Thanks to all who have submitted resumes for the writer-in-residence jobs we announced two posts back. Quite an impressive group. From Random House authors to Playboy magazine columnists to Fulbright research fellows to Sundance film screenwriters, the competition has been fierce. (Well, as fierce as a bunch of writing geeks can be.) We've already offered one professorship and will soon rudely though metaphorically slam the door on further applications. This is the last call. If you're still considering whether to apply, here are more details:
The University of Papaloapan is part of Oaxaca's state university system. The campus is a web of stucco edifices and cobblestone walkways in a manicured tropical garden that is surrounded by rainforest and just ten minutes outside of the state's second largest city Tuxtepec. The lush terrain here is gorgeous and fertile. It produces fruits, veggies, and meats with a quality and abundance found in few other Mexican locales. There are modern supermarkets, movie theatres, dance clubs and a department store. Only an hour away, the Sierra Norte climbs from palm trees, hummingbirds, and iguanas to cool Oregon-ish rainforest then frosty pine forest.
Working here feels like a permanent vacation, plus the university cafeteria has great coffee from a local finca. Even as I type this, I feel a little guilty for inhaling such fresh air and slouching in my office without a care in the world. Most of the therapists that gringos go to could use a little of the therapy we get here. No, I'm not overselling it. I'm leaving out lots of good stuff. (For example, the local mosquitoes are so huge that it's easy to kill 'em.)
Unlike Canadian and American universities, there's no expectation that your published writings be politically-correct or approved by a consensus of nerdy academics. You get paid to follow your muse. Though I shouldn't toot my own horn, working with a department head who is easy-going and life-loving is a serious job benefit, when there are so many miserable bastards to work with in this world ... or so I hear.
On the weekends, one can visit museums of Olmec sculpture, swim under jungle waterfalls, tour cigar-making companies, or listen to Jarocho music at a pineapple wine festival. That's all the info I can think of at the moment. To be considered, rush a cover letter and resume in an email with scans of your university degrees and passport info page attached to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
Monday, November 7, 2016
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
I hate to disappoint you folks, but unless we stretch the topic to a breaking point this address will not be about the assigned theme of “community and belonging.” In fact, you have to hand it to this festival’s organisers: inviting a renowned iconoclast to speak about “community and belonging” is like expecting a great white shark to balance a beach ball on its nose.
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Forboding creeps into my heart as the bus nears Copacabaña border crossing. I'm taking a gamble. All the other passengers are European, because Americans are supposed to get visas before entering Bolivia with a two-way plane ticket, but I'm relying on the schmoozing powers that have so magically transported me across many frontiers.