Journey to Mexico

Goodbye Hello

2007-07-09T18:08:00.000-05:00

This morning I was sitting on the covered patio of the dining area at Mar de Jade about 75 feet from the ocean. Each wave rolling in seemed to bring with it memories of the past four weeks in Mexico. Friday was our farewell “Casa Contenta” fiesta. The day began with Azlyn coming into our bedroom to let us know that her tummy hurt. Four hours and several barfing episodes later, she began to turn the corner and my worries about hosting a party with a sick child began to dissipate. We had no way of contacting people to cancel. I then tried to visualize and attract as much health as possible as well as fervently prayed that her troubles were food born rather than viral. I didn’t want three other barfers on the bus ride to the beach the next day.

We hosted a party with 40 people counting our family plus Lamberto, the school dog. There were people from HP, the school, new friends from local shops and the market, Pablo, Guadalupe and her nephew, Luis. It was raining hard and the roads were treacherous so it is amazing that the turn out was so good. I know that the family from Zapopan that gave us the ride home from Trompo Magico had a hard time getting to the party. More accurately, a dangerous voyage due to flooded roads. They were persistent and finally arrived a little after 10:00 p.m. The flooded roads were so severe that they made the front page of the newspapers the next morning.

I had cooked most of day preparing pork and two cakes, doing laundry and packing for our departure. The menu consisted of pork, bread for tortas ahogadas, tostadas, guacamole, tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, tossed salad, refried beans, fresh salsa and the desserts. Guadalupe had Maria clean the house earlier in the day so that it was fresh for the party. I had printed out a picture that Jaydn took of Maria (our housecleaner) and I a few days earlier. I gave it to Maria as a gift during our final day together. She presented me with two pillow cases that she had embroidered with a beautiful floral scene. This gift from her brought me to tears.

I had purchased fresh flowers, candles and the girls picked out a lovely piñata in the shape of a star to suspend over the courtyard. Things looked perfect. Unfortunately the guests didn’t get to see the set-up before it started to rain. We had to take down the piñata and bring the tables inside.

It was still a very lovely evening. Lorenza’s sons presented me with an exquisite bouquet of flowers upon their arrival. This was after they had already donated thirty loaves of bread from their bakery for the tortas ahogadas. Maria, the woman from the dollar store, and her daughter Brenda, presented me with a lovely necklace that they made. Generosity, once again, showering down on me stronger than the torrential rains.

Everyone ate too much and stayed up until 1:00 a.m., but we were happy. I milled about the party visiting with all of the guests. At one point, I sat down with Guadalupe, Pablo and Luis. Guadalupe said “I think you are meant for Mexico.” This was her way of telling us that we really fit-in well here and would be welcomed back. Several times during the day as we prepared for the party, Guadalupe used a Spanish term, which I cannot remember, to describe herself as my “almost mother” and me as her “almost daughter.” I think the sentiment behind the term is similar to calling your mom’s best friend your “aunt” in the United States. When I can’t have my own family, Guadalupe and family proved to be the next best thing!

At one point during the evening, it was raining particularly hard. Lorenza told me that the “sky is crying because you are leaving.” More generosity from Lorenza.

We finally re-hung the piñata in the rain because we had no choice. All of the kids took their whacks and the candy mixed with the rain as it fell from the sky only to be quickly collected by the eager kids.

The guests began to leave, making their long journeys home. Lots of hugs and “muchas gracias.” As the family from Zapopan left, Angelica (another Angelica) the teenage daughter whom we had not met before said, “Please e-mail me. I hope that we can be friends.” Martha, the mother, said “Next trip no California. Next trip – Idaho!!!” I look forward to that day.

Pablo arrived the next morning to take us to our bus. We quickly said “goodbye” to Manuel and company of “Tacos Manuel.” He looked sad. We were sad. Guadalupe wasn’t with Pablo due to space restrictions with all of our luggage. I insisted that he drive us by their house because I couldn’t bear leaving with out giving her a hug. I wore my sunglasses so she wouldn’t see my tears.

We arrived on our very air conditioned (52 degrees) Mercedes bus and began our next journey with ease. About an hour into the beautiful bus ride our driver stopped under and underpass on the highway and picked up a man carrying two coolers. The man boarded the bus and began selling tacos that were being kept warm in the coolers. At first we weren’t going to buy any but he convinced me when he said “I bilingual. Good food. Good price.” The tacos were four for $2 US and they were simply delicious. The man rode along for about 20 miles, serving food in the isle like an airline flight attendant. When we were all full, the bus driver stopped and let him off. I wonder how he got home. The busses to the beach pass by this stretch of highway about every hour so I’m sure he would make the round trip several times that day serving tacos to hungry travelers. This kind of unrestricted freedom is something I love about Mexico. There doesn’t seem to be as many rules and regulations and if a man chooses to wonder the highway boarding busses to sell tacos it is his right. Everyone seems pretty content and I haven’t seen any dead people due to lack of health inspections.

We got off the bus at Las Vares and went from a 52 degree freezing bus to 100 degree stifling humidity. As soon as Jaydn stepped off the bus she said “It is hard to breath!” She spoke the truth.

We hailed a cab and made the 10 kilometer trip to Mar de Jade. This place is remote, secluded, literally “where the jungle meets the ocean,” and really damn hot. Mar de Jade’s owner is a doctor who runs a medical clinic and after school program for kids in a building about a fifteen minute drive through the mango groves from here. Mar de Jade is a for-profit business that supports this non-profit organization. A lovely concept.

The food is amazing here although it feels like eating is all we do. The stretch of beach is wonderful although not long enough to get very much exercise on. Besides, who can exercise in this heat?

The only other people here are an older couple from California who are both educators and world travelers. They are trying to convince us to move somewhere with an international school for our girls. There is a single woman from California staying here too. She is also a teacher and the purpose of her trip is to volunteer at the children’s center attached to the clinic. We might join her on Friday although she said it is kind of a rough group of kids. Translations: “Are you sure you want your girls around them?” I think it will be a great learning opportunity for them and we’ll be there to help.

There aren’t many people here because, did I mention it is hot?!!! Also, there are lots of mosquitoes. Our first night, we shared our room with two tap dancing crabs that we had to lead out of the room, and a dog that broke-in and refused to leave. One of the men who works here literally had to carry the 80 pound over-heated canine out of our room.

I am having a hard time getting into the extremely slow-paced way of being here. I don’t want to move because I am so hot but feel sloth-like from my lack of movement. We are trying to limit our sun exposure today because we are all sunburned from yesterday.

Yesterday, we began our day with a trip to the beach. Chad’s prescription sunglasses were stolen by a wave. Two hours later, I found them 4 feet deep and 30 feet out. Truly a miracle. I just kept visualizing one of us finding them and thankfully, the sea cooperated. No prescription sunglasses would have made a rough week for Chad and caused a $300 sting to our checkbook upon return.

We share the pool areas here with large iguanas, crabs, hummingbirds and an assortment of insects. Last night, we had lizards on the ceiling in our room. I had a hard time sleeping thinking of lizards falling on me, the girls falling down the spiral staircase from the loft, and the sound of the waves in my insomniac state kept bringing images of the big Tsunami of a couple years ago into my mind’s eye. I think the heat is affecting my brain!

I will do my best to enjoy the beauty through the heat for the rest of our stay here. The other couple is contemplating leaving early due to the heat. I think that I am simply a bit homesick at this point. I will look forward to our return home on Saturday. Our return to high temperatures but at least it will be a dry heat. And, it will be home.

Why is it that Fresh Baked Bread Always Makes a House Smell Like a Home?

2007-07-05T23:20:00.000-05:00

I was woken up by beautiful singing at about 5 a.m. this morning. (Better than the extremely loud fireworks we have heard each morning for the past couple of weeks during the Festival of San Pedro.) I looked out our bedroom window and saw a small parade of people carrying candles as they sung and prayed their way down the street, approximately 8 feet and one wall between us. At the end of the parade of people were two priest, their robes and collars lit by candlelight. It was a beautifully serene moment.

Our time is quickly running out in San Pedro Tlaquepaque. I am sad to be leaving. I feel like now is when my Spanish learning would really take off. We have been trying to cram a lot into our last few days. We took another trip to the balnearios on the 4th of July and experienced a new kind of Independence. We splurged with an extra $2 U.S. and entered the spa area. We took a mud bath. First time! I made a joke in Spanish about it to the natives at the spa. I said, "No mas Rubia." Loosely translated translated means "I am no longer a pale whitey!" The joke seemed to translate.

That was actually my second joke in espanol, I think? The other night at the coffee shop, a woman selling cologne came in and spritzed a little something on the hand of the barista. I grabbed his hand to smell it and it wasn't so attractive. I didn't want to be rude so I mimed "so, so." His colleague smelled it and didn't try to hide her adverse reaction. This was my chance! I said, although I couldn't remember whether I was supposed to use "por" or "para," "Por un viejito!" Loosely translated means "For a much older man!" They laughed but it could have just been at me.

One day this week Pablo, Guadalupe, and cousin/neice/Azlyn's babysitter, Claudia came to "Casa Contenta" for a lesson in baking bread. We made my favorite Hearty Multi Grain Seed Bread. It was a very special day. One of my favorite singer/songwriters, Brooks Williams, was playing on my laptop. Guadalupe had spritzed up the house by adding new throw pillow and arranging my favorite type of flower, which she had purchased a huge bouquet of for me, all over the house! The smell of fresh baking bread and laughter permeated every crevice of the house. For a moment, I felt like I was absolutely home. I felt as though "Casa Contenta" was actually my home. Claudia, who loves to cook, and I agreed that if I returnd, we are going to open a cafe called "Claudia y Vashti's."

When the bread finished baking, we made the absolutely most delicious sandwiches I have ever had. Another day of blissful carb-loading.

During the course of the day, Pablo told me about getting pulled over by the police for running a red light. He admittedly did it intentionally. He and the police officer were amiable with one another. The cop let Pablo know that he couldn't overlook the ticket because it wasn't an accident. He informed Pablo that the ticket would be $600 in pesos (about $60 U.S.) When given a ticket in Mexico, the offender has several days to take the ticket to a bank and pay the fine. Pablo said to the police officer "What would my other option cost me?"

The police officer replied "The economic situation is very hard right now."

Pablo said "How about $100 pesos?"

The officer agreed and they happily parted. Yes, I am talking about a bribe. A very common situation here. Pablo told me that police officers aren't paid enough to live on and the only way they make it is by this method. Yet another example of the difficult economy of Mexico. I felt a lot of compassion towards this police officer. What are his other choices given the situation here?

The police officers have all been extremely friendly, which is good because there are lots of them and they carry very large, machine gun looking guns. (What do I know about guns?) From my experience, this is a peaceful place with little crime. I don't really look at the bribe situation as corrupt.

Tomorrow is our final day here. The girls and I spent today shopping with Guadalupe for supplies for our big fiesta tomorrow. We are having a "Going Away Party." Turn out is expected to be good - around 30 people - Chad's colleagues from H.P., friends from the school, Pablo, Guadalupe, Claudia and their family and friends, the people who gave us the ride home from Zapopan, Lorenza from the puesta de pan and her family, Angelica and her family, and probably a few more! I have a pork roast slow cooking right now. We purchased a beautiful, large pinata and other party favors. Pablo will bring a sound system and possibly a DJ. Tomorrow Guadalupe and I will bake two cakes and make fresh salsa. I, of course, plan on taking a large group photo.

After all of the shopping was done, Lorenza and her family arrived for some conversation practice. We popped popcorn and chatted for a while. We then went out for Posole and fried tacos. She took us to a very authentic, local place where I was eaten by mosquitoes. I ended-up with about fifteen bites. The cook told me that the mosquito bites were free of charge. Lorenza mothered me by placing lime juice on all my bites, a sure cure in her mind. The father in the family who owned the restaurant noticed my problem and came over and told us about a special cream that I needed to buy. Everyone was very concerned. I was fine. As we left, the father wanted to know my name and wanted to make sure I knew his - "Rudy." He also wanted me to know that his son was born in Oklahoma. This fact was very important to him. Somehow, positive association with the U.S. is very important here. I can't understand it when so many U.S citizens are less than compassionate towards Mexicans. I listened to his story and thanked him profusely for the lovely evening. Lorenza, once again, insisted on paying. We were very uncomfortable with this.

I then suggested "Let's go out for ice cream, our treat!" Once we got our ice cream she used her superior dual language abilities and cunning ways to pay. And again, we were uncomfortable. I expressed this to her and she told me that I have know idea what our friendship has meant to her and that we have made them feel so special. I don't understand it and I really don't understand why we are so special in her eyes. She is one of the most vibrant, humble people I have ever met. In just 4 short weeks, I have really grown to love this woman and her family. Her oldest son is the one I spoke of in an earlier post that wants to be a veterinarian. She told me that he seems depressed and is afraid he'll give up on his dream since his brother was on the list of students accepted to the University of Guadalajara and he isn't. I am going to try to do some research and see if I can help him find a way to go to school....somewhere. I have to try. They will be at the fiesta tomorrow and I plan on greeting them with a gift. Perhaps, with a framed photo of her family I took, or, of all of us together.

We have just finished the beginning stages of our packing. As Jaydn climbed into bed she said "I am really sad to be leaving here and to be leaving all of our new friends!" Mission accomplished. Jaydn has enjoyed and learned enough from this cultural exchange that she will miss it.

I know that tomorrow there will be a few tears in my tequila as I say "good-bye" and try, inadequately as it will be, to express my gratitude for all of the kindness extended to our family. Some many friends made in four short weeks. Guadalupe put it something like this - "The personal relationships that human beings form with one another are the only path to understanding and peace." I can't wait to give this more thought while making new friends at the beach. I need to go have a good cry now.

Karma, Speaking With The Dead at the Lavanderia, Chad's a Genius, and Other News

2007-07-03T22:01:00.000-05:00

This weekend, I felt like I was in a blender. We had many great experiences but it wasn't taken at a toddlers pace and getting lost didn't help.

On Friday night, I prepared dinner and fed the girls while Chad went to the Lavanderia to begin washing clothes. We both agreed that it would be great to cross that chore off our list as we had a big weekend planned. After the girls and I finished carb-loading on bruschetta and mashed potatoes, I walked the girls to the Lavanderia to relieve Chad so he could come home and eat. Bruschetta AND mashed potatoes? We needed energy for the weekend and it was the first food that had been greeted kindly by our stomachs in days. Perhaps it didn't need to be a chaser to the big donut I had earlier in the day but that is now in the past and it does no good to focus on it.

This was my second trip to the Lavanderia. I really miss my own basement Lavanderia! Both times, I had broken conversations with the other women washing their clothes. Each day I am able to communicate a bit more. We talked about how there is always mucho laundry and it seems to always be the women doing it. I swear, when those other women saw Chad working on our laundry, they saw light shooting out of the top of his head and began looking for an aberration of the Virgin Mary to appear in soap suds.

In between conversations while waiting to transfer my clothes from the washer to the dryer or while folding clothes, I had lots of time to read and think. The weirdest thing happened both trips. I thought about dead people. I almost felt like my granddad and Chad's dad were right there with me doing the laundry. It was great to feel their presence. I don't know why they would visit me in a Mexican laundry mat. I guess I'll have to let it be a mystery. The only thing that I can figure out is that my heart has been overflowing many times on this trip. So many loving acts of kindness have been directed at me and my family since arriving. I suppose when a heart becomes so filled with love, that is a fertile place for a deceased loved one to make an appearance. I guess I should have looked more closely at the soap suds. Their faces may have actually appeared there.

With the laundry done, we were ready for our weekend. A gross, tourist weekend. I had to do it. I couldn't bear to come to Guadalajara without seeing certain touristy spots such as Mercado Libertad and the Orozco showcase at the Cabanas and the Government Palace. Saturday morning, Angelica, her sister and her daughter showed up at our door. I had tried calling her twice the day before to invite her on our Saturday excursions. No one in her house speaks English so I'm sure the only message she got was "English speaking person called and said blah, blah, blah, Angelica, blah, blah, blah Angelica." Her family also assumed that since I had called twice that something was wrong and I needed help. They had Angelica on the first bus to Tlaquepaque the next morning ready to assist me with whatever I needed. I told her that we just wanted to invite her to spend the day with us, which she did.

We took a bus into Guadalajara for a second trip to Parque Agua Azul, which was just as lovely the second time. Although, while Angelica and I went to get snacks for everyone Chad abandoned the playground and was found playing tag with the kids. I asked him why they weren't playing on the equipment and he said that tag was a safer game. I'm guessing that Mexicans aren't litigious an Mexico isn't filled with ambulance chasing attorneys. These playgrounds would never be allowed by insurance companies in the U.S.

After that, we bussed to downtown Guadalajara for a quick bite to eat and then more sight-seeing. First, we went to Mercado Libertad. Mercado Libertad is the largest indoor market in the Americas. Thousands and thousands of vendors. You can buy ANYTHING here. It was frenetic. We took a peek. Took some pictures then got out of there. There was one huge section of electronic equipment and movies. The DVD's for sale here are hilarious. "Shrek the 3rd" has already been "released" in Mexico. The copy of "Happy Feet" that was loaned to us was like something from a Seinfeld episode. The pirate (pronounced PEE-RAH-TUH) who filmed it was seeing tracers or something. The camera was all over the place. My favorite part was watching the heads of the movie patrons seated in front of Mr. P.

Once we left Mercado Libertad, we walked through the Central Joyero on our way to the Cabanas. Joyeros are jewelry stores. These are unbelievable. There are five or six huge building that are three and four stories high packed with jewelry vendors. And it is all relatively inexpensive. I'm sure that many Americans make purchasing trips down here and return to sell the jewels dramatically marked up in the U.S.

We arrived at the Cabanas and looked at the amazing Orozco murals for as long as the kids could stand it. Orozco lived from 1884 - 1949 and is as important to Mexican History and art as Diego Rivera. His paintings depict his critical view of the Mexican Revolution. They are incredible to see in person. They are dark and violent but astonishing. The Cabanas houses over 50 of his murals as well as a collection of scale drawings for the murals. Prior to becoming an art museum, the Cabanas, the construction of which began in 1805, served as a shelter and workshop for orphans to learn a trade. Later, during Mexico's war for independence, it housed soldiers, horses, and arms. Eventually it resumed its humanitarian mission and several years later, became an art center.

After visiting the Cabanas, we made one last stop at the government palace to look at another Orozco mural, "El Grito de Independencia." Astonishing.

We arrived home fairly late and settled in. Guadalupe stopped by to say "hello" after the girls fell asleep and ended up doing Chad and my numerology calculations. How interesting and accurate in its depiction of our personalities. Except the part where she said Chad had the numbers of a "genius." Wouldn't a genius know that wiping the counters down is part of doing the dishes? Oh! Did I just make a cat sound? Sorry. Okay, so, (swallow, swallow, grit teeth) as hard as it is to admit, the boy does have some genius qualities about him.

We woke up Sunday morning and lounged around a bit before heading to the opposite end of the city - Zapopan. Here is where I get lost, crabby, and generally unpleasant to be around. I misunderstood my teacher Julia. She is from Zapopan and agreed to show us around this unique part of the city and take us to Trompo Magico, a state of the art interactive children's museum. After a smooth bus ride, where we coughed up the $2.70 USD to ride first class, we arrived at the center of town circling, of course, a large cathedral. I had taken notes from my last e-mail correspondence with Julia and was prepared to meet her at the rotondo by the cathedral. Everyone, including the genius Chad, told me that what I had written down was the rotondo in downtown Guadalajara by the big cathedral there. No! I insisted that we were supposed to meet Julia in Zapopan. It is now 15 minutes past our agreed upon meeting time and I'm beginning to realize something is wrong. I decide it is time to call her cell phone. At least I was smart enough to bring the number with me.

In a very snappy manner, I leave Chad and the girls at a Gazebo and walk towards the street market near the cathedral where I see some pay phones. The problem is that these pay phones take a special card. I have no idea where to purchase this special card and have suddenly forgotten all Spanish. Here is where what I can only categorize as some good Karma kicks in. A vendor sees me struggling (probably being rude to my family) as I try talking to two young men playing with three cell phones between them. I just needed to make one phone call. Well, thank the Virgin of Zapopan this vendor who was watching me spoke some English.

"Hello! My name is Fernando. How can I be of help?"

I wanted to kiss the old guy. I told him our situation, all the while my aura emanating mujer estupida, and then he convinced the two men with three cell phones to let me use one of them. All the while, the genius and our two offspring patiently letting me navigate this. I got the bilingual, super smart, 24 year old Julia on the line and told her I was in Zapopan. (Note to self: Must learn second language.) She was as patient as someone who had e-mailed me photos and exact titles of where we were supposed to meet could be. She was in downtown Guadalajara. However, when she asked me where I was exactly I had to hand the phone back over to my new lover, Fernando. He spoke with her for a few moments and walked my seemingly retarded self with my nice family to the exact location where we she would pick us up. As I thanked Fernando over, and over, and over, and over, he said "Listen, I hope to go to the United States one day and I know I'll need help. Hopefully, I'll find some."

Julia arrived with her super smart bilingual boyfriend and younger brother. (Note to self: Must learn second language.) It was now so late in the afternoon that they had only enough time to drop us off at Trompo Magico before going back to downtown Guadalajara to see a play they had tickets for. So, to sum it all up, they spent their afternoon burning fossil fuels trying to locate us only to act as a taxi. They dropped us off at Trompo Magico and I alternately thanked them and apologized over and over and over and over before we said our good-byes and headed inside.

Trompo Magico was amazing. As state-of-the-art as any children's facility I have seen in the U.S., although hard to navigate being a one language wonder such as myself. (Note to self: Must learn second language.) A tropical storm strength rain arrived as we took a break from museum seeing to eat hamburgers. We resumed our activities until the museum closed at 7 p.m. We weren't looking forward to walking to a bus stop in the downpour and asked some other parents with a child playing in the same area as our girls if it were possible to get a taxi here. I forgot to mention that Trompo Magico was as far away as we could possibly be and still be in the same zip code, or whatever it is called here, as Tlaquepaque.

The couple spoke less English than we do Spanish. They offered to give us a ride home. This was no small gesture as "Casa Contenta" is at least a 40 minute drive from Trompo Magico. Chad and I both prayed that they didn't think we were asking the for a lift. We kept saying "Taxi, no problemo. Grande Problemo para ti," whatever that meant. They insisted and after the museum closed, their three children and our family of four piled in their mini-van for the long journey. Martha, Salvador, and their three children were incredibly nice. They tried to stop at a restaurant for posole but in was unfortunately closed. I so wanted it to be open so we could buy their dinner in repayment for their kindness. During the journey home, we learned that they had recently driven from Guadalajara, to California, to Missouri and back to visit family. They said, as far as I could tell, that no one in the United States was very willing to offer them assistance on their journey. This made me sad. It also made me think of Karma again.

I distinctly remember making a deposit in my Karma bank not so long ago back home. A very pregnant refugee from Africa sat at a bus stop during a heavy rain, no umbrella. I absolutely could not just pass her by. It took me over an hour to figure out where she lived due to the language barrier. It was less than three miles from my house but over 60 minutes when the only common language was hands. I can't help but think that somehow this offer of transportation was connected to the generous gift we received this day. I also realized that I should look for more opportunities to make deposits into my Karma account. It is no fun to be lost, far from home, inept at the local language, and having a bad day.

We invited our new friends in to "Casa Contenta." They came in for just a moment and I made sure they left with bananas, crackers, and sandwich bags filled with Cheerios for the journey home. It was the least I could do.

They let us take a photo with them, then we offered to take a photo of just their family and promised to e-mail it. Since they seem to enjoy driving so much, we invited them to come to Idaho anytime. I honestly think they will take us up on the offer. We exchanged information and hugs and parted ways.

Tonight, I went to Farmacia Guadalajara and for $1.50 USD had 3 photos printed in about 5 minutes. I then went to the street market and purchased a frame. I have decided I can do better than e-mail even if it means getting lost again. Tomorrow, somehow, I will get this beautiful framed photo of this beautiful, kind family all the way to Zapopan as a "thank you." Wish me luck.

From the Outside, Looking In - Part 3 (Final)

2007-07-01T11:50:00.000-05:00

More dialogue between me and the universe:

Universe
Is this experience you are having changing you?

Me
Definitely.

Universe
How?

Me
I guess I feel upside down. I'm not sure what reality is.

Universe
[Invites me to lie down on the big couch]
And how does that make you feel?

I've often wondered how the place of our birth is chosen. Why wasn't I born in Darfur, Chiapas, Mexico, or on the other end of the spectrum, into a royal family somewhere. I guess, as singer/songwriter Iris DeMent says I'll have to "let the mystery be."

Even as I live my life inside of this great mystery, I still have to figure out how best to navigate my path. Over the past three weeks, the Universe has opened a new window and graciously let me take a look at another small piece of the big picture. Sometimes, the view is spectacular, but sometimes, the breeze that blows through the window chills me and I find myself wanting to hide under the covers in my bed.

As I stare out of this new window, the complex issue of immigration keeps waving at me as it passes by every couple of days. Ever since we were approached by Jimmy and Angelica on our first day here regarding their immigration problems (see post from Monday, June 11), I have been asking questions. I am trying to understand the immigration debate from this side of the border. I read the headlines at home and don't pay a great deal of attention to the issue because I figure that there is nothing I can do. Or, perhaps the truth, although a not so pleasant admission about myself is that I listen to the soundbite of the day and contemplate the issue for 30 seconds or at least until the NPR story is over. Then I head to Starbucks and go about my comfortable, complacent, American life.

When I think about the verb "immigrate," I understand the very literal meaning but long to understand the cause and effect. As I consider the act of immigrating, I also have to explore questions such as "How much is enough?" and "What is home?"

(Disclaimer - this is non-scientific) Here are some things I have learned:
1) On the Center for Immigration Studies website, I learned that the average Mexican immigrant makes $18,952 per year, less than half of the median salary for native U.S. citizens.

2) Immigrants send a large percentage of their income back to their family in Mexico.

3) Angelica has told me that many illegal workers are often working twelve hour days, six to seven days per week, and I would assume, without benefits.

4) The near $19,000 annual salary seems to be five to six times that of a local factory worker, retail worker, or house cleaner. For example, Angelica's sister works six days per week from 9 a.m. - 4 p.m. at a local factory. She brings home $70 USD per week. Maria, who is hired by Pablo and Guadalupe to clean our house, makes $100 pesos ($10 USD) for 2 - 3 hour cleaning session at our house. If it is a day where the linens are changed she is paid an extra $2 USD.

5) Laborers in Mexico work long hours and lots of days. Lorenza at the puesta de pan (bread) in the daily market in Tlaquepaque, told me that she works seven days a week. The only days the market is closed for are Christmas and New Years. Two days off per year. People that Chad has talked to have confirmed that it is nearly impossible to get a five day a week job. Most are six and seven.

6) There seems to be a big gap between the economic classes here, just like in the United States.

7) I asked Pablo what a relatively decent job would be here. He said that engineers and other professionals in the beginning of their careers would make $2000 USD per month ($24K per year) on the very high end.

The cost of living is lower here but certainly not that low. Julia, my Spanish teacher, said that it is only the very, very poor who risk everything to immigrate. Both Julia and Pablo agree that people who are educated and are able to get relatively decent jobs have no desire to leave. They love their country and are deeply connected to their family. Julia is probably an example on the other end of the economic spectrum. I don't know this for a fact, but would assume that she comes from a family with a high income for Mexico. She is very educated. She attended private schools and then the University of Guadalajara. (Her education amazes me. I sit in class in awe of her twenty four year old self!)

Pablo also told me that there are a higher percentage of people from the country than from the city that immigrate. He said that his observation is that it becomes a pattern. A grandfather did it. His son did it. His son's son did it, and so on.

Guadalupe said that besides economic pulls, some Mexicans want the "American Style." As I stated in an earlier post, perhaps Americans have set the bar for standard of living way too high. I don't think most Americans are any happier as a result all of our material possessions. I wonder if Mexicans (or the rest of the world) understand that many, many Americans are living way above their income on credit that is way too easy to obtain to attain this life style?

Just like many places in the world, you can find lots of American influence here. There are pockets in the city that resemble Any City, USA. I would guess that a person could travel to a number of places in the world that seem homogenized by globalization. I am grateful that we are in a traditional Mexican neighborhood because we came to experience something different. I didn't fly down here to hang out at McDonald's. My girls are presently watching the Disney channel which I justify because it is overdubbed in Spanish. It is "language training."

Americans, myself included, seem to want to buy things as cheaply as possible. We want cheap produce, cheap hotels, and most Americans aren't willing to be pickers, dishwashers, and hotel maids. We enjoy the benefit of this "cheap" labor yet is difficult, if not impossible for many of the workers to get a work visa. American companies want to pay as little as possible, consumers want to pay as little as possible, and all of this still equals a better wage, although far from fair, for many Mexicans. All of this encourages illegal immigration. Indirectly, we all encourage this - American consumers and businesses alike. We seem to rely on one another but can't seem to find a way to make it work in every one's best interest. We are neighbors. In a nation of primarily Christians, I am wondering what has happened to "'Love your neighbor as yourself." In a way, many Americans are getting richer at the expense of our Mexican neighbors.

Another thing that I have noticed is that the street vendors expect Americans to barter with them. I am slow to make purchasing decisions. My experience has been that vendors think that my slow decision making is a game I am playing and they quickly lower the price. I pay the price as marked and sometimes a little more. Yesterday, I was purchasing some art work from a street vendor and he tried charging me less than what was marked. One item was marked at $100 pesos and he told me to pay $80 pesos. A difference of $2 USD for me, a big difference for him. I paid full price. I refuse to barter, especially with someone who has spent their time and talents creating something so beautiful. To me, bartering feels like exploitation. I would feel like I was taking away a piece of someone's dignity.

My new friend, Angelica, seems desperate to leave Mexico. I have been to Angelica's house. It is a nice home. It is quite large. Her family has been there for twenty years. Her mom and dad and several siblings live in the area. Her needs seem to be met. Based on my observations, I wouldn't say she is in dire straights.

To refresh your memory, her husband is working in the United States illegally. Her daughter was born in the United States while she was there illegally. The little girl has U.S. citizenship but Angelica can't seem to get a visa to go to the U.S. She doesn't want to raise her daughter in Mexico. She has a meeting with the U.S. Consulate on July 12th to try again. If she can get a three month vacation visa, she will stay indefinitely. Until she gets caught, I guess. I asked her "Is all of this worth it? Why doesn't your husband just come back and try to make it work here, where you can all be together and be with your extended family?"

Her firm reply was that she doesn't want to be in Mexico. She wants to raise her daughter in the United States and will do whatever it takes to make it happen, even if she has to cross illegally with her daughter. I believe she will risk her life to live in the United States. Each time I see her, she says "Please pray for me."

Two Sundays ago we were invited to attend the weekly extended family meal at Pablo's house. His roots are deep here. He has never considered leaving. He is educated, employed, and lives in a large family home where he grew up, his mom grew up, her mom grew up and at least two generations before that were raised. This is something I have rarely seen in America. Every Sunday about twenty extended family members get together for dinner in their courtyard. Their motto is "If you don't have something better to do, please join us. If you have a better plan, go!" Nothing fancy - a very traditional Mexican meal. We didn't eat on fancy dishes that matched. Most of the dishes had chips. No one cared. I often notice at gatherings in the United States that perfect presentation is a focus. Here, just being together seems to be the focus. This family is generally happy but has their ups and downs just like any family. However, they are very committed to one another and the Sunday meal happens without fail. It was lovely to be included. Mexico might not be the economic force that the U.S. is but commitment to family is unbelievable.

Maybe part of the human condition is thinking that, as the cliche goes, "the grass is always greener." It must be a mirage. Some Mexican people immigrate because they are desperate and have lost hope of making it in their own country. Some immigrate because, as Guadalupe put it, they crave "The American Style." I think that any American who spent much time here would begin to crave the feelings of security that come with such a rich heritage, deep roots, and amazing commitment to family. This seems to be where much of the wealth lies in this country.

Which brings me to a question that all human beings should spend more time contemplating. How much is enough? In whatever world we exist, we all have our struggles. Every human I know thinks the grass is greener somewhere else. Perhaps that is part of the reason I made this trip. I am beginning to learn that the only place the grass is greener is on the inside. Until I am willing to cultivate that which is deep inside of me, to nurture the non-physical, I will not find happiness. More money, a move, a successful career, none of this will bring happiness.

Perhaps if we all defined "enough" and lived moderately within those boundaries (with an occasional piece of dark chocolate), the distribution of resources would even out and maybe, just maybe, the scales would be tipped dramatically on the side of happiness. Perhaps humanity would finally achieve peace, both inner and out. I don't know. This is just me, standing on the outside, trying desperately to look in. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to ask Manuel of "Tacos Manuel" if he'll be my guru. I think it is possible he has mastered the art of living.

From the Outside, Looking In - Part 2

2007-06-28T16:34:00.000-05:00

The dialogue continues:

Universe

What is generosity?

Well, uh, (clearing throat), um, Dictionary.com Unabridged says:

gen·er·os·i·ty
1.
readiness or liberality in giving.
2.
freedom from meanness or smallness of mind or character.
3.
a generous act: We thanked him for his many generosities.
4.
largeness or fullness; amplitude.

Universe

Well, I can see that the teach to test strategy worked well for you throughout your education but, no. That is not what I mean. What is YOUR definition. What does generosity feel like?

[chewing gum, rolling eyes and sighing in a teenager-esque way]

I don't know.

Universe

[mature, patient and loving without a hint of annoyance]

Perhaps it is time to make it personal.

I am coming to the realization that I do not yet fully possess the virtue of generosity. The generosity and amazing acts of kindness in a country where money is hard to earn overwhelms me. I will try to paint a picture of the lessons in generosity available to me here but I fear it will be more of a botched paint-by-number than an Orozco masterpiece.

A couple of days ago, Jaydn and I went to the market. The girls and I are frequently offered free breads and cookies as we pass by the puestas and today was no exception. Our last stop in the market was the tortilleria. As we stood waiting for our order of tortillas to be complete we watched a woman skillfully form the dough, flatten it into perfect circles with a wooden tool, and then cook them on a grill directly in front of us. Freshness like this isn't always speedy. Jaydn and I had an arm full of goods from the market, including a litre of freshly squeezed orange/carrot juice. I set it down on the counter for the duration of our wait. Once our tortillas were done, we headed for home. I didn't realize that I had forgotten my fresh juice until the woman who made my tortillas walked two blocks from the market to carry it to me. I'm not even sure how she found me. Her tortelleria was extremely busy but she took the time to locate me two block away from the indoor market where she works to make sure I had my juice. Albertson's never does that. I stupidly tried to offer her a tip, which she refused. I hope I didn't offend her. Later, I wished I had just given her a big hug. She was generous with her time, concern, and kindness.

Later that night, I met my friend Lorenza and her two adult sons, and her one daughter, age 10, at Cafe San Pedro for conversation practice in both English and Spanish. Maria, an employee of Waldos (the $1 store), and her thirteen year old daughter Brenda also joined us. Most people I meet are eager to learn and practice English and often propose similar meetings. No one is hatefully yelling "If you're going to be in my country learn Spanish." Instead, I repeatedly hear "Teach me." We might very well have a country filled with bilingual people if we changed our mantra. However, I learned a lot more about life in Mexico than I did Spanish this night.

I suggested Cafe San Pedro because it is very close to my house and I don't have a car or confidence in my ability to navigate the buses. I was sort of thoughtless with this suggestion. It is a cafe that seems to be designed for tourists. It is much like a Starbucks or another upscale coffee shop. It isn't cheap, especially, I would presume on the average Mexican salary.

Lorenza and her kids all ordered frappachino-like drinks and I had an Italian Soda. Maria and Brenda didn't get anything, which I felt bad about afterward. During the conversation, I learned that Brenda loves studying geography. I learned that Maria lost both of her parents when she was a very young girl. She and her daughter seem to be quite alone in the world. She has a sister in California and would like to learn English in hopes of moving there one day. A very difficult proposition in light of the immigration debate.

I learned that Lorenza's entire family works in the bread baking business, with the exception of her oldest son, Ivan. Ivan would like to become a veterinarian but apparently, there aren't enough schools to meet the demand for young Mexicans wanting to train for professional careers. The University of Guadalajara is a government school that is basically free but can't possibly accommodate all of those wanting to attend. Lorenza told me there are are spots for less than half of the applicants. Ivan would like to learn English in hopes of going to the United States to go to school. I could tell that Lorenza thought that this would be much harder for him to accomplish than he thinks (going to the U.S. for school, that is). Another thing we take for granted - the relative freedom of choice we have for education and professional training.

I also asked Lorenza for her opinion as to why the economy of Mexico is so much worse than that of the United States. Mexico is a big, beautiful, diverse country with just as many, if not more natural resources than the U.S. She said "That is easy. The government is corrupt and takes the money." I'm not sure if it is that simple but I'm sure it is a part of the problem.

After about an hour, Maria and Brenda needed to leave. Lorenza, her children and I talked for a bit longer. It was time to say good-bye and I asked for the check. Lorenza said "I pay." She said it with such graciousness that I felt it would have been extremely rude in that moment to turn down her offer. I humbly thanked her. I didn't realize what a big gesture this was. That is, until I went home and did the math. My Italian Soda was probably around $2 USD (20 Pesos), about 2% of her weekly salary. The entire evening was probably 1/4 of her weekly salary. These encounters at the University of Perspective Check - Tlaquepaque, Mexico are beginning to personally define generosity for me. I have to ask myself if I have ever given to the point of my own discomfort or personal sacrifice. The answer is a shameful, resounding "no." Everyday, people living on the opposite end of the economic spectrum from me, set a wonderful example. Presently, I might ride the short bus to the "School of Generosity," but real soon, I'm hoping to join the Gifted and Talented program.

Tomorrow, the Universe asks me to think more about the economy and how that partially defines "home."

From the Outside, Looking In - Part 1

2007-06-27T15:20:00.000-05:00

One of the purposes of this trip is to begin to learn a new language. The greater purpose is, perhaps, beginning to learn a different culture - a small glimpse at another small slice of life on Planet Earth. In some ways, the the time is passing too quickly. In other ways, it seems as though we have been here for a very long time. There are things I miss about home, but there are also many things I am learning to love about life in Mexico. I will have a hard time giving up some of my recently discovered new ways of living.

Each day, the Universe seems to present me with new questions. The dialogue goes something like this:

ACT I

Scene 1

UNIVERSE

[ A booming James Early Jones type voice ]
Student of life? Are you ready to listen?"

[ A small, squeaky mouse voice ]
"Are you talking to me?"

UNIVERSE
"I am always talking to you. You aren't always listening. Are you ready now?"

ME
"Yes."

UNIVERSE
"What is time and how should it be spent?"

ME
"I don't know. Please tell me."

UNIVERSE

[ Sternly but lovingly ]
"It is for you to figure out."

[ whisper ]

"I will try."

Mexico is offering multiple lessons in time. Time as I know it, is different. I might ask someone, "What time does the parade start?" They reply "Oh, ten or eleven."

This doesn't mean they don't know what time the parade starts. It means that the parade will start sometime between ten and eleven. There seems to be no such thing as tardiness. Whether I am attending a parade or have scheduled a time to meet with an individual, no one seems to be in a hurry. The said gathering patiently waits for the last participant to arrive and then begins. Ain't nobody hurrying nobody. In fact, it seems to be an important cultural trait NOT to rush a fellow human, at least in the colonial area where we reside. Perhaps the inner metro area is different. This non-rushed attitude is very different from my concept of time at home. Of course, this is just what I see from the outside looking in.

The question of how to use one's time also seems a bit different, at least in my neighborhood. Many people here work very hard for very little money. It astounds me that Manuel of Manuel's Tacos, just a beans throw away from my front door, seems to employ about four other people besides himself. This seems to be accomplished by selling fifty cent tacos for about six hours per day depending on the rain.

Two young men arrive sometime between 6 a.m. and 9 a.m. seven days per week and begin setting up the stand. Manuel and co-chefs come later, at a non-specified time, and begin cooking. In between bursts of busyness as well as during the rush, the team seems to genuinely enjoy being together. When you order your taco and then immediately offer to pay, they say, "Please, sit and enjoy. Pay after you are full."

We are greeted multiple times during the day as we come and go. I feel like Manuel is always watching over "Casa Contenta" for us. The taco stand is disassembled, leaving no trace of its existence, and everyone heads home for the 3:00 main meal. This is how they spend their days - in fellowship with one another and with any hungry hombre that approaches. No one seems interested in climbing the corporate ladder of Manuel's Tacos, nor does becoming wealthy seem to be a priority.

I have to wonder if I would be a more peaceful person if I used my days like this instead of being inside the hurricane of senseless busyness where I normally reside. For many of the people I observe here, "Give us this day our daily bread" is granted and that gift, served with super size portions of companionship and conversation, all happening at a gentle pace, seems to be enough. Of course, this is just what I see from the outside looking in. (Tommorow, the Universe has asked me to contemplate generosity.)

La Vida Bonita y Tranquila

2007-06-25T07:35:00.000-05:00

(See photos from Day 15)

Here is a riddle: What is joy-filled, tired and red all over? Answer: The Summervill Family after a weekend in the remote mountain town of Tapalpa, Jalisco. It is almost eleven o’clock on Sunday evening and we are just settling back into “Casa Contenta.” Once again, Pablo and Guadalupe have overwhelmed me with their hospitality and generosity. We almost declined the invitation because we have all been tired as result of all of our adventure seeking. Thankfully, Guadalupe would not take “no” for an answer.

We left on Saturday around noon. I was happy to note that once we left the metro area of Guadalajara I could use the adjective “safe” with the verb “driving” in one sentence. I try to convince myself every couple of months that we “need” to buy a minivan in order to continue to function. For the journey into the mountains, Pablo, Guadalupe, and our family of four piled into the Mexican version of a Volkswagen Rabbit, only slightly more compact. Four adults, two kids, five or six back packs, some food, and two mountain bikes. My thoughts of a minivan are forever gone.

Two and a half hours later, mas o menos, we arrived at Guadalupe’s brother’s summer vacation home. This was one of the rare weekends when it wasn’t occupied so we moved in. The home is nestled in a secluded community of summer vacation homes that each sit on at least an acre. In each direction, there is a view of lush meadows, mountainsides, and on a clear day, the volcano at Colima. We parked the car by the front gate and had to walk down about ten large stone steps to get to the front door. My first glimpse of the house launched me into a day dream where I hired a realtor, sold my house, packed my bags and moved permanently to the Tapalpa area. I immediately told Chad about my day dream and his reply was “I hope you will write?!”

We walked into the house and the best word to describe it is “tranquil.” The house was simple, clean, and peaceful. I was hugged by adobe and bathed in sunlight filtered through bamboo attached across windows in the ceiling. Soft tiles massaged our feet as we inhaled fragrant, clean air. A lovely deck overlooked a garden area filled with raised beds for vegetables, a variety of flowers, including one perfect red rose, and lots of interesting succulents. This earthy dwelling blended so perfectly with Mother Nature that it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other began. The contrast from the bustling, dirty city was stark. (Footnote: Pablo thinks Guadalajara is nearing 7 million people now) On one hand, the area resembled many of the majestic areas I have had the privilege of visiting in the northwestern United States. On the other hand, it had enough different characteristics to make an (ex) home-body, like myself feel like I was tucked in the Andes or Kilimanjaro.

We unloaded our bags and headed into town (about 5 minutes) for la comida, the 3:00 p.m. main meal of the day. As soon as we pulled into the pueblo, I knew we were going somewhere special. The town sits at nearly 7000 feet and is filled with lush, green trees and other vegetation. Agriculture seems to be the main industry. Much of the chicken, beef and lamb, is grown locally and lots of cheese is produced in the town. The town is built into a hillside and the streets are made of individually placed, random-sized rocks. There is no speeding through this town (it is one big speed bump) which is symbolic because the pace of life is about half the speed of what I have come to accept as “normal.” The streets are shared with horses, beautiful chickens, an occasional dog and lots of adorable donkeys. The center of town surrounds a beautiful Catholic Cathedral. The businesses of the town make a square around the church and a plaza. We ate a very traditional Mexican meal in a second story restaurant that overlooked the church. We topped the meal off with a cup of coffee that was better than the Starbucks I had the day before. We paid our bill, which was $560 pesos ($56 USD). The bill included a feast for six, complete with the coffees and some cookies, AND a pair of shoes for Chad. He had wondered down to the shoe store below and found a pair of Mexican soccer team shoes and was told to pay for them in the restaurant. We were all stuffed so we took a brief stroll around the shops and looked inside the Cathedral. We picked-up a few necessary items before going back to paradise.

Azlyn was exhausted. Pobrecita, Azlyn (poor Azlyn)! This is a lot of traveling for a three year old. I lied down with her and read a few pages of a book on meditation techniques until she fell asleep. Once she was asleep, the rest of us decided to play games. Pablo wanted to play “Cuban Dominos.” We hadn’t heard of it but didn’t mind learning. We soon discovered that “Cuban Dominos” is what we call “Mexican Train” in Estados Unidos and we had played it many times with Chad’s Dad. We had a very good laugh over this. We decided that in Cuba they must play “Miami Train.” We made up names for the game for several countries deciding that the only rule was that it has to be named after a country other than the one you are playing in. We ate popcorn, walnuts coated with a delicious sugary substance, tostadas and Modelas. After the games, we stood out on the deck and watched a firefly ballet before retiring to bed and falling asleep to a chorus of frogs and chicharas.

We awoke to a pot full of coffee and Guadalupe preparing a breakfast of frijoles with freshly made chili and cheese, fresh fruit and some sweet bread. Chad and Pablo rode the mountain bikes into town to the tortillería and came back with warm, fresh tortillas that were then dipped into the freshly made frijoles, filled with more frijoles, then topped with Adobera cheese and the freshly made chili. We ate breakfast on a patio right outside the kitchen. I have never had a breakfast like this and it was fabulous. Guadalupe has promised me a Mexican cooking lesson! After breakfast, Chad and Pablo took about a ten mile bike ride while the girls played ping pong, looked for exotic bugs, and Guadalupe and I talked about spirituality. (Note to Chad: Apply sunscreen.)

When Chad and Pablo returned, we decided to take another journey. Azlyn was too tired so she and Chad stayed in the house and relaxed. The rest of us went to Las Piedratos, a meadow filled with giant boulders that some believe fell from the sky. We hiked around the boulders, took a mini-siesta on one, people watched, and drank agua de coco and then ate the coconut meat coated with lime, chili and salt that we purchased from a puesta that sat at the entrance to Las Piedratos. We also bought a plate of fruit that included tuna. “Tuna” in Spanish is not fish. It is the fruit of Nopalis, a type of edible cactus. It was delicious. (Note to self: Apply sunscreen)

We returned to the house and picked-up Chad and Azlyn. We then went to another restaurant that was basically a large, covered deck with a buena vista! It was a delicious meal that began with lamb consome (soup). It began to rain during our meal. One minute, it was dumping full force, almost like a cloud burst. The next minute it would be only a trickle. It would alternate between the two as though God was sitting in contemplation with her hand on faucet not realizing that she was turning it right and left, much the same way a mortal plays with a pen while lost in thought. I think I have an idea what God was planning during the spastic rain. God must have been designing the spectacular sunset that lit our path back into Guadalajara as the six of us laughed, talked, inhaled the love put into the sunset, and then exhaled little pieces of it into one another. In just two short weeks Pablo and Guadalupe have become our family far away from home. I wonder if God planned that gift during another rainstorm? Mi corazón está lleno! My heart is full.

Mexican Sushi and Buddhist Sangha

2007-06-22T19:04:00.000-05:00

We had a very interesting evening last night. Pablo's cousin, Claudia, came to babysit the girls. We met her last Sunday when we were invited to attend their extended family's weekly Sunday meal. I have grown to respect and trust this family so much in the short amount of time that we have been here, that I did not hesitate to use her babysitting services. Frankly, she was probably a better parent than I last night. I think the girls were sick of the sight of me and we were mutually ready for a break from one another. Is it a bad thing when your kids start asking for a baby sitter? I am growing to appreciate our telecommuting set-up back in the States as Chad leaves each morning at 7:45 and doesn't return to "Casa Contenta" until about 8:30 p.m. It doesn't leave much time for a mommy break. Besides the schedule, the girls are a bit homesick.

I think they feel more isolated than I do with the language barrier. Face it. I will find a way to communicate. I could make a friend with the dude at taco stand #137 in a matter of moments. There is a lot that two people can discuss with broken Spanish, your hands and playing something that resembles Pictionary on scraps of paper. Yes, I have done this.

Claudia arrived with games, crayons, coloring sheets and a few other toys and the girls didn't mind our departure what-so-ever. We rode with Pablo to downtown Guadalajara's Buddhist Center. We were late due to traffic. The meditation portion was first. Poor Pablo. Wait, I know this phrase in Spanish. Pobrecito Pablo! He walks into a community of his friends calmly meditating, late, with two gringos. Chad tripped and fell over a meditator as we made our way....Just kidding! It would have made for a better story though. Although I couldn't understand the talking portion of the evening I'm sure that "tell the truth" was in there somewhere so I won't embellish. Our entrance wasn't too bad. We were able to participate in about 20 minutes of the meditation and then we listened to The Master speak for an hour and a half. And much to my dismay, there weren't subtitles.

The Master, his name is Tony but I can't remember his last name, lives in Mexico City. (Foot Note: People in Mexico just call Mexico City "Mexico." A bit confusing for me at first.) The Master's talks are recorded onto DVD and then they project them each week at Sangha. I don't know exactly what type of Buddhism this is but I saw pictures of the Dalai Lama if that helps clear things up. I didn't get much out of the recording as my Spanish has not progressed to that level in the past week. I'm sure it went something like "be a good person, blah, blah, blah, watch your tongue, blah, blah, blah, meditate, spread love, blah, blah, blah." I certainly don't mean that disrespectfully, I just don't know what to write about the speech because I understood about 20 words over the course of the hour and a half. It is interesting to sit in a room with 30 other people who actually understand what is going on and to hear them laugh at something funny. I didn't want to appear uptight so as soon as they started laughing, I used my best acting skills and joined in. I didn't want to be the only person in the room who didn't "get" the joke. I do wish I could have understood the speech because just from watching the way the man spoke, I could tell he was an engaging and dynamic speaker.

Afterwards, a gentleman asked me in English where I was from. I told him and he asked me how I found out about Sangha. At the risk of embarrassing Pablo, I told him we came with Pablo. He asked if I spoke Spanish. I, of course, replied "no" as I have learned not to embellish in regards to my skills. I did this once at an audition when asked if I could tap dance. There are just some things one cannot fake. When I told him that I didn't speak Spanish, he first gave me a look like "Are you loco? Why would you sit through something this long that you can't understand?" I then saw a shift in his eyes and he said "Good for you." At that moment I felt brave and adventurous. I have surprised myself over the past couple of weeks. I haven't traveled much and I find that I am brave as I seek out and try new things each and everyday here. It isn't always easy but I am enjoying it immensely.

We spoke (sort of) with several people at the conclusion of the meeting and then Pablo asked if we wanted to go out to eat. He said "Let's go to sushi, for a change!" Chad and I love sushi, so off we went. The restaurant was about to close and I don't think they were too happy about serving us but did so anyway. Ordering from a menu that is Japanese translated into Spanish was very difficult. Mexican Sushi is slightly different. Chefs put cheese in nearly everything here, including sushi. Sin queso, POR FAVOR! Also, we had to ask for wasabi. The Mexican version is salsa de soya con jalepenos! Muy caliente, but not the same as wasabi. We also had a bowl of yummy miso soup that came with fresh lime. Lime and chili powder accompany everything here. Even the candy at the end of the meal had a delicious (choke) chewy chili center. The meal was fine and the conversation with Pablo was superb.

We enjoyed the experience of both the Sushi and the Sangha. We are grateful to Pablo for not only letting us tag along when we invite ourselves to Sangha, but for inviting us to do many, many things here. While writing this post, he stopped by to ask if we wanted to go to his uncle's cabin in the mountains this weekend. Next weekend, we have been invited to go to a ranch near a remote village with Pablo and his friends.

Today, Guadalupe took the girls and I to Parque Agua Azul. A lovely excursion filled with exotic birds, a mariposaria (butterfly house), an orchid house, our first banana tree sighting, and of course, juguetes para los ninos (playground equipment). Several children were fascinated with Jaydn and Azlyn at the playground. One ten year old girl in particular was playing detective and trying to figure out where in the world the "blondies," as she referred to us, came from. Guadalupe translated for a while and then the girl and Jaydn began playing together. After a few minutes detective girl determinedly walked up to Guadalupe and asked her some questions. Guadalupe translated for me. The girl had asked Jaydn "Who is your mother?" in Spanish. Jaydn replied "No se." Jaydn just meant that she couldn't understand the questions. Detective girl was immediately concerned thinking that Jaydn did not know who her mother was. Perhaps she thought I was the nanny, adopted mom, or child abductor. Who knows! Unfortunately, I forgot to bring the camera, but we will definitely be returning to Parque Agua Azul. Guadalupe then took us to a vegetarian buffet that was lovely. The girls ate with much less complaining than normal. I actually think I saw joy on their faces as they gobbled down some sort of vegetarian sopa (soup).

We walked around downtown Guadalajara a bit until we found an Indian clothing store where the girls and I each purchased a beautiful cotton wrap that we can use after swimming and for lying in the sand at the beach. As a momento of my sushi/sangha night, one has a Buddha surrounded by vibrant colors that resemble the colors of the birds we saw in the park. All of the wraps are so beautiful that two out of the three of us have agreed to trade them around. We are still in negotiations with the toddler. And then, (cue the angels, beam of sunlight, and the hallelujia chorus), Guadalupe, the saint, took me to a Starbucks. I have missed that homegrown mega-corporation! I walked in and immediately heard the "F word." Some lovely Americans were sitting at the first table. Can't say as I've missed that word and since we haven't gotten to the chapter in Spanish Class with Spanish cuss words yet, I am blissfully ignorant to sailor talk around here.

Pablo and Guadalupe are people that Chad and I will be friends with for a long time. Que suerte! We are very lucky! The arrangement with "Casa Contenta" has gone way beyond business. I'll bet some chili powder and lime that at least Pablo will come visit us in Idaho within a year. I certainly hope so!

Of Healing Lakes, Virgins, and the Lady in Red

2007-06-20T21:30:00.000-05:00

I returned to an empty house after an hour of step aerobics amongst beautiful Latinas with suave hips accustom to salsa moves. My rhythm resembled that of Steve Martin in "The Jerk." I got the usual looks of curiosity for being the only "Rubia" in the room and perhaps a few extra glances for my robot hips. All this was made worse when I got home and looked in the mirror and noticed that I had not one, but about ten black specks in between my teeth from the grilled corn on the cob I had purchased from a street vendor and consumed prior to aerobics. I might have just looked a little, well, special in a "she must ride the short bus" sort of way.

I took advantage of being alone in the house and took a long, reasonably hot shower. I even took time to shave my legs. I don't want to end up gordita and hairy. Before my shower was complete, I heard the familiar voices of my family returning. Jaydn and Chad came directly into the bathroom to tell me a story. They had been riding some small, carnival-like rides in the street (as dangerous as driving). These rides are here for Feria San Pedro Tlaquepaque - a festival that as far as I can figure is the equivalent of a town in the U.S. having a yearly celebration with a parade, carnival, rodeo, a fair, etc. I'm assuming there is a lot more night time activity than usual. Downtown is fairly crowded. A young woman wearing a red shirt and with a baby in a stroller approached Chad and asked him for money to buy milk for her baby. He was caught a bit off guard and said "no pesos." The same scenario happens with those on the street at home anytime you are downtown. We have always offered to buy food but don't usually give money directly. Right or wrong? I don't know. I struggle with what my response should be to those asking for money. Look them in the eye? Don't look? Stop and talk and try to get their story or keep walking? Hand them money? Buy them a meal? I know that many people face these same questions on a daily basis.

As the woman walked away, Chad knew he had done the wrong thing. He did have pesos. The girls knew he had pesos. The girls had pesos to ride the overpriced rides. He said that the baby did look hungry. He knew immediately that he did not respond the way he should have to this situation. The girls wanted to continue to ride the rides but Chad just kept thinking "I did the wrong thing. I need to make it right." The girls reluctantly agreed to leave the rides and look for the woman. They did not find her and came home. When he and Jaydn relayed the story to me I felt a small pain at my core. I said "Would you like to go and try to find her?"

His reply was "Would you mind? I would like to do that." He had wanted to ask me but felt guilt about leaving because he had been gone all day. Before leaving he poured Azlyn a glass of milk and this small act in the midst of this situation was painful. What if that were Azlyn that needed milk?

He left and as I finished my shower I exhaled a small prayer that went something like:

"God, if that child is really hungry and if that mother is experiencing anxiety and pain about where, when, and if she is going to find her baby's next meal (a worse plight I cannot think of), then please, please, let them find one another."

Chad returned about ten minutes later. Before searching for her, he bought some milk and yogurt (there is an act of faith!), all the while, he kept hoping to make the situation "right." He walked to the carnival area and did not see her. He walked to an area near El Jardin where a band was playing and tried to think of where he might go if he were in her shoes. He decided that he wouldn't be listening to a band and from El Jardin, looked down a couple of other streets. He decided to walk down Independencia Avenue, a pedestrian only street that is busy this time of night - even more so with the festival activities. He thought this might be the logical place for her to go seeking shoppers with change from recent purchases remaining in their pockets. Tents temporarily housing a variety of vendors lined the center of the street. He could have chosen to walk on either side of the tents. He chose to go on the right side of the tents first and within a few moments there was the woman in the red shirt with the hungry baby continuing to ask people for money. She was wearing the only red shirt in a sea of people. A Mexican woman was reaching into her pocket for pesos for the lady in red, something Chad noted he has seen repeatedly. We have rarely seen a Mexican person turn down someone asking for money. Their hands seem quick to go in their pockets and share what they have. He waited until she was done receiving the money and then handed her the bag of needed groceries and walked away.

People here seem to speak of the Divine as freely and as often as Americans seem to discuss professional sports. In a week and a half I have already heard of the healing powers of Lake Chapala, the presence of spirits at El Refugio, and of the miracles that occur in the presence of the Virgin of Zapopan. Was this a miracle? I don't know. The chances of him finding the lady in red again were fairly slim. So, perhaps yes, this was divine intervention. Chad was soothed by being able to correct his response. A better example was set for our daughters. A baby was fed and a mother's anxiety was quelled if only for a night.

Perhaps the miracle is that the Virgin of Zapopan seems to be bonking us on the head reminding us that giving is the most important lesson in this life. Just as we are in the beginning stages of our Spanish studies, we seem to be beginning students in the art of giving. We have so very much to learn. Perhaps the miracle is recognizing this and trying to genuinely change the ways we respond to all those in need. I am waiting for that miracle to happen.

A New Routine

2007-06-19T23:09:00.000-05:00

This week began a routine, mas o menos (more or less). That is, as much of a routine as one can expect with the unpredictability of a toddler and the weather. Chad returned to work this week and began commuting to the HP site in downtown Guadalajara. The rainy season came in like a lion on Sunday night. Rain was falling like I have never seen. It rained all night long and well into the morning. There was an inhundacion (flood) in a tunnel on the way to Chad's work. This gave him two hours to get to know the woman who has graciously offered to be his ride for the duration of our stay. Thank goodness they get along. The commute should have only been 30 minutes. Traffic was gridlock and they ended up walking the last 20 blocks after being at a standstill for nearly two hours. He missed his first meeting of the day but at least he had a good excuse.

The girls and I began our Spanish classes yesterday. It was great to be a student again. I am in a class with two other chatty women so we often digress from the teacher's charted course, but, man, we learn a lot of vocabulary! I do find it difficult and wonder if I could ever be fluent. I sit in my desk, carving on the top (Vashti hearts Chad) and sticking my gum under the seat and marvel at my 25 year old teacher's confidence as she navigates not one, but two languages perfectly. She not only speaks them perfectly but understands structure. I will probably learn just as much about English structure as I do Spanish. At least I won't have to Google English sentence structure terms or sheepishly ask my daughter's second grade teacher to remind me what an adverb is when my assistance is needed on her homework. I have been daydreaming about the possibility of moving to Mexico for a year (Don't worry Mom, it is just a year). I do think that is the only way I could really learn the language. My girls might start a coup. They are doing okay in class although they say they don't really like it. They are the youngest students the school has ever had. They are in a class that consists of just the two of them. Ages 7 and 3 are hard to mix in a class. The teacher does a good job and even if they claim to be bored I know that they are absorbing so much. Even if they don't attempt to speak Spanish out loud, words, rhythms, and sounds not found in English are being stored somewhere in those little active minds.

One thing that I have learned about Spanish is that if you don't want to be offensive just make it diminutive. For example, instead of calling a person "viejo," which means old, call them "viejito." It somehow softens it and makes it cute. Next time you want to comment on someone's sumo-like figure don't call them "gordo." Just say "gordito." Yeah, cute. The first time I hear someone throw the word "gordita" my way I'm hoppin' the next plane back to the states.

After our first day of classes ended my sole mission was to find "comfort food" for the girls. They have not been eating and have had the digestive curse common in many travelers. We found the closest supermarket to the school and hoofed it down there. The store put us at least a mile from "Casa Contenta." We filled our cart with Ritz Crackers, Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, Special K Dark Chocolate Snack Bars, American process cheese (individually wrapped), potato chips, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios and an assortment of other items. Can you say "gordita!" I think that the allure of foods from home blinded us to the fact that we were walking. The girls were troopers although I don't think I was their favorite person by the time we lugged all of those groceries the one-plus miles home. We got in the house and I let them eat whatever they wanted from the pile then we watched a movie. I made a dinner of pesto pasta with vegetables, which was a welcome change from tacos and/or beans and had the girls in bed by 8:30. It was just the kind of day the kids needed minus the long walk with 100 lbs. of groceries. Hey, buck up little campers, I was fine with tacos and beans!

Our second day of class was today and was just fine other than the fact that we were late and I brought the wrong notebook. Geez! I felt like a 15 year old making excuses to the principal only I am 35 and my teacher is 24. I'll get it right, teacherito!

We came and ate some more salty, fat filled foods with no anti0xidant properties what-so-ever and then had one of the best days we have had since arriving. Pablo and Guadalupe picked us up and we braved the highways yet again (this is no joke - I wouldn't be surprised if I have to blog about a car accident before we return) and landed at Lake Chapala. Amazing! It is the largest lake in Mexico. We were at San Juan Cosala's Balnearios. Balnearios are hot springs. Guadalupe kept referring to this as a "healing spot." It was truly lovely. There are five different swimming pools, a large hot tub, two jacuzzis and a cave for steam baths. For an extra $15 pesos ($1.50) you could get a massage and get into a clay mud bath (another day!). All of this at the lakes edge with a spectacular view of the mountains. We had a nice lunch. I had a heaping plate of fresh fruit (found everywhere here although I eat it minus the traditional lime juice, salt, and chili powder) and the girls had hot dogs and french fries (why stop now!). We spent five or six hours surrounded by the "healing powers" of this magical place before heading home. The girls needed a snack for the road so we stopped at "Donas Donuts" in Ajijic, another lake town, and got them donuts frosted in chocolate and topped with sprinkles. Dang! I think I'm going to call social services on myself. What are these children eating?!!!

The lake was so spectacular that I think we'll rent a car and hit another balnerios. There is apparently another lovely spot on the other side of the lake and higher up in the mountains. If we can convince the girls to drive the two hours it takes to get there we just might make a weekend of it!

I will leave this post describing my dinner. Chad got Tacos Charlie for the two of us to eat. I requested chicken. In the photo, you'll notice a small carcass. I swear, this thing must have been taken out of the egg. These are itty, bitty, tiny-ito, chickens. I see little tiny eggoritos at the market that must come from these small birds. Chad first tried just placing the entire thing onto a corn tortilla. Small bones are still hard to swallow. I just watched, thinking I would learn from his mistakes before figuring out the best way to consume the chicken. We learned that the best way is to first rip it's pencil thin neck off and then peel the small amounts of meat it offers and place that on a tortillas. It was pretty good once I got past the visual. Tomorrow I'm going vegetarian - Ritz Crackers piled high with processed American Cheese (de-wrapped) chased by a Special K Dark Chocolate Snack Bar or two. Life is good!

Random Observations After One Week

2007-06-17T19:29:00.000-05:00

1) I am definitely in germaphobe therapy here. I might even come home a reformed germaphobe.

2) Safety doesn't seem to be as big of a deal here. I will reiterate that pedestrians must really watch out for themselves.

3) Farmacias (Pharmacies) are different here. You can buy many things without a prescription and there seems to be a Farmacia on every corner. Many of them have big mascots of a cartoon-like pharmacist dancing to loud music on the sidewalk outside the store. Azlyn loves one in particular and always tries to get a hug from him. Seems like something you would see at a car dealership or Little Ceasar's Pizza in the U.S. Some have doctors with whom you can consult with for around $15 U.S. Sometimes there is no line. Sometimes there is a very long line. We, thankfully, haven't had to use a doctor. We are told by our landlord that you are often better off to avoid them. Then there are places called "Botica Nueva." These are little shops filled with plant based medicines. Pablo told us that these are the only kind of pharmacies that used to exist. We visited one to get a topical for mosquito bites. It worked well. My instincts say to trust this ancient knowledge and those who work in "Botica Nueva" more than what appears to be a modern pharmacy.

4) You often have to pay to pee here. No kidding. At many of the public restrooms at places like the large markets, there will be an attendant sitting outside at a table with stacks of toilet paper that has been torn off in about one foot sheets. You give her $2.50 pesos (about .25 cents) and she gives you some toilet paper and permission to use the facilities. Which segues to my next observation...

5) Plumbing. Ay Caramba! I guess it is better than no plumbing at all but the plumbing is definitely different here. Toilets are very slow to refill after a flush so you better get it right the first time. Hot water is very rare. We have it in our shower (thank you!) but don't seem to have it in the kitchen. We have to boil water to do our dishes. We have one sink in the kitchen (not double sided) but it doesn't have a plug. We wash our dishes in a bowl or pot usually. We were told that we should use a small cap full of bleach when washing vegetables and fruit. Honestly...sometimes I do this and sometimes I don't. No one has died yet. We do stick to bottled water only for drinking and brushing our teeth. Another interesting proposition. Do you rinse your toothbrush in the tap in the bathroom or haul water from the kitchen's 5 gallon water jugs in a pitcher to the bathroom and pour water over your toothbrush. I have rinsed my toothbrush in the tap and seem to be okay. I use the pitcher for the kids. Most houses seem to have a double sided sink in the courtyard. One side has no drain so we use a yogurt container to scoop out the water. This sink seems to be used mainly for cleaning the house, although I have seen people using it for dishes and hand washing.

5) Electricity is also interesting here. Chad has been shocked several times. We have a three pronged adapter in one room with a surge protector for the computer. This is the only place we can plug in a blow dryer because of the polarized plug. A very interesting and quite scary thing happened yesterday. We were all sitting in our office and heard a sound like a chair scraping across a floor. Only, it was very loud. Like God's chair scraping across the floor of heaven. You felt this sound in the core of your body. Once the shock (pun intended) wore off, we all went to our front door. Everyone on the block was standing in the doorways of their homes and shops dumbfounded. From what we could tell, two of the electrical lines had touched. One woman said that fire raced down the lines as it happened. Odd. I can't help but look up and check-out the power lines as I walk down the streets. There are lots of wires and cables overhead.

6) I am very uncomfortable yet grateful to have a housekeeper. Maria comes to clean our house twice per week. She changes all the linen on one of those days. This service comes with the house rental. It seems as though most people have house cleaners here. I have never been comfortable having someone else clean my messes up. I don't know why this bothers me so much. On one hand, I am enjoying the break. On the other hand, I feel really guilty about this. I know that they aren't paid very much here. We will get her a gift of some sort.

7) We don't have a washer/dryer. It was finally time to do some laundry yesterday. Chad took our clothes to the laundry mat where you could either do them yourself or leave them to be done. We left them there and about four hours later picked up 2+ loads and paid about $8 U.S. Another lovely treat that came with some guilt.

8) In an earlier post I said that things weren't as cheap here as I assumed they would be. Okay. Let me retract that. We blew a couple hundred bucks, mostly on food, before we learned how to live here versus be a tourist. Pablo showed us his favorite street taco stands that he said were safe. Taco's Charlie and a Gorditas Stand. I personally love the Gorditas Stand. About .50 cents per gordita. Two make a good meal for me. We have Manuel's Taco's about 5 feet from our front door and Chad says they are good too. Pablo says that Manuel's specialty is Tacos Lengua. That is pig or cow tongue. It is a delicacy here. I think that Chad has tried it. I haven't. Not sure if I'll brave that one. Although, Manuel is very nice and I look forward to our exchanged greetings each day. When we received all of those tortillas as a gift the other day we gave some to Manuel to use. He graciously accepted them. Can you imagine a restaurant in the U.S. accepting food to use from a stranger. I don't think they have health inspections here!

9) Kids will invent things to do when they don't have the abundance of toys they are used to. I have watched my girls entertain themselves with a balloon for a long time until it kissed a cactus in our courtyard and was no more. The other night the girls each sat on their respective twin beds and played catch with a shirt. They seemed to have a great time doing it!

10) Jaydn was lamenting the fact that she doesn't yet know Spanish. I told her that she was absorbing more than she thinks. She said "Ah. Yes. It is like when you put some glue on paper and then sprinkle glitter on it. You turn it upside down and some of the glitter sticks and the rest falls away. That is me. Some of the words stick and some fall off." I couldn't have described trying to learn a language any better myself!

11) My final observation for today is that the Mexican people are the warmest, friendliest group of people I think I have ever met. In America we hear stories about Mexico being a dangerous place. There are dangerous spots in the United States, Europe, Africa, Mexico, everywhere. It certainly is not a dangerous country from what we have experienced. They have welcomed us with open arms in spite of our being a part of a country that hasn't treated them very well. When I look someone in the eye and say "Buenas Tardes" I am greeted so warmly in return. Jaydn was a few feet in front of me where she could get a better view at her height at a parade this morning. Those standing around her didn't notice me behind her. She was in my sight the whole time. I saw several people become very concerned and begin to keep an eye and one hand on her as they looked around for a parent. Within a matter of seconds I made eye contact with one of the gentleman standing right next to her. He alerted those around that I was right behind them. I really felt at that moment that if Jaydn had been lost they were prepared to look out for her. Another interesting thing happened on our bus tour the other day. Chad stood up to leave and a fellow Mexican passenger said something to Chad. Chad thought he was just saying "Goodbye" so Chad waved. The man said "No, cacahuates!" Chad had a bag of peanuts and the man wanted some. Chad quickly passed the bag to him and he took a handful and passed them back. I can't imagine that happening in America. For one, I can't imagine someone asking as though they were your brother. Secondly, I can't imagine feeling safe accepting food from a stranger on a bus. This just isn't something we do at home. With that said, it was a very nice exchange. It was just the brotherhood of man sitting on top of a bus in the middle of downtown Guadalajara having a snack. Share and share alike. That is what it is like here. We could use a little more openness and a little less fear in America.

Went to a Bull Fight

2007-06-16T23:43:00.000-05:00

I went to my first bull fight today. It was a real Mexican experience - just what we hoped to have. I'm not sure the event is one that I'll choose to attend again, but it was interesting.

It sure started out well when I got in for free and was greeted by two beauties with a shot of Tequila! That's the way we should greet guests at theatrical events!

I took about 220 photos and have picked out some good ones for you. Not too gruesome, but you should know that the bulls do die in the end. No happy endings.

» View the photos

Olé!

Journey Deeper Into Mexico (Day 6)

2007-06-16T12:42:00.000-05:00

I am sitting in our officina at almost 10 p.m. The girls are struggling to go to sleep. Sleeping and eating are proving difficult for both of them but especially for Azlyn. I have just bribed them with pancakes for breakfast (yes! I found a vegetarian restaurant with whole grain pancakes on the menu) if they will please, please, stay in bed.

There has been a tenor voice (not Chad’s) wailing in the background for the past two hours. His vocal cords must be bleeding and near rupture. It is a beautiful voice, just louder than perhaps healthy. The singer in Chad, perhaps it is tenor envy, can’t help himself. He just wandered next door, Negro Modela in hand to listen. He came back into the office just as I was beginning to type this post and relayed his experience. In his broken Spanish (God bless him, at least he is trying), he says to the bartender, “I live in house next door and I hear. I come to kill.” Clarification. He meant “I come to see.” Afterwards he thought he said “I come to kill,” but upon further investigation he actually said “I come to die.” None of it good. Morir/Mirar. A few small vowel changes, one big meaning change. In the spirit of painting a clear picture, I will recap. Scrawny, balding, white guy carrying his own beer walks into a bar and approaches four Mexican patrons who are enjoying singer/guitar player and says to the bartender…..Get the picture?

Onto what I really set out to write about. Today we had an exhausting outing. There were a few times when Chad and I both wondered what we had gotten ourselves, especially our two young children into. We received an invitation to the home of Angelica and her family. Angelica was the woman I wrote about meeting on our first day here. Remember? The woman who can’t get back into the United States with her daughter to be with her husband and perhaps thinks there is some way we can help her. With some trepidation, I phoned her two days ago to accept her invitation. I accepted it to be gracious. I accepted because I am a warm person always ready to make a new friend. I accepted so there could be no mistaking me for a “snobby American.” I guess I have appointed myself as a “Diplomat on behalf of U.S. citizens who think the immigration debate is filled with shades of gray, consider all human beings worthy of the same rights, and think the border wall is one of the dumbest ideas ever to be implanted in human gray matter.”

I felt nervous about accepting the invitation because this woman seemed so desperate and I’m not exactly sure what she wanted/wants from us. There is nothing that we can do. The appointment was made and we needed to keep our word. We met her in downtown Tlaquepaque. We walked several blocks and caught a bus that the locals use. It cost $9 pesos, approximately .80 U.S. cents for my family of four to board. The driver does not wait for you to be seated before he practically floors it down the street which is the equivalent in width and repair to a shabby ally but with cars parked on the side, lots of pedestrians, and other cars in motion trying to share the road. We traveled by bus for about 25 minutes east past the center of Tonala. I spoke with Angelica a bit on the bus and learned that she gave birth to her daughter in her house in America, aided by her sister. She was too scared to go the hospital in the United States because she didn’t speak English and I would assume, didn’t have the amount of money needed to pay what I am sure would have been an exorbitant hospital bill. I’m not sure if she was in the country legally or not at the time.

We journeyed to a very different neighborhood than the one where we are living. There are virtually no tourists in this area. The roads were made up of uneven, sharp rocks. When we asked Angelica if this was a safe neighborhood at night without hesitation she said “No.” We got off the bus and walked with her and her four year old daughter several blocks to her house. We were relieved to see a cheery yellow house with beautiful flowers painted on it. It looked inviting. I had asked her the names of her family members and practiced them prior to our arrival. We met her younger sister, Blanca (age 10) and her younger brother, Jose (age 15). After a few moments, her mom, also Blanca, joined us in the front room and greeted us warmly with a hug. Her father was at work and the rest of her 7 siblings no longer live at home. Two of them are in the United States working.

Blanca invited us to sit and offered us beverages. Conversing was exhausting because as we have demonstrated, our Spanish is quite awful, and the only one of their family to speak any English is Angelica and her’s is quite broken. We hung in there and made progress though. Blanca offered to give us a tour of her home which we graciously accepted. All of the homes that we have seen here are quite large. Not fancy, but large. Extended family often lives together. We even went on the roof where their two dogs live. It was very enjoyable to see their house. Blanca was curious as to why we only have two children after twelve years of marriage. God only knows what we communicated on this topic. Afterwards, it donned on me that she is Catholic and wouldn't think of birth control. Chad was able to say that we wouldn’t have a house big enough for a family of 10. It seemed to please her that her house was larger than ours.

I asked her if she has ever been to the Estados Unidos. She said “no.” Angelica then said “She doesn’t like America.” The discussion turned a bit political at this point. Perhaps a bit tense. Her demeanor turned slightly angry. We are a part of something that she sees as unjust. I’m not sure if we understood this correctly or not but I think she said that United States has wasted a great deal of money on war but they pay Mexicans so little for their labor. She then asked us why we elected George Bush as our president. Chad and I both emphatically exclaimed that we have never voted for him (no offense to those who did) and that the election was very close and Americans were quite evenly divided at the time of the election. She softened a bit but still seemed upset.

She was cooking for us throughout this conversation. We learned today (I think) that Mexicans eat their big meal of the day at 3 p.m. Dinner was almost ready but Blanca needed to go get tortillas. Her brother and sister have side by side tortilla stands at her community’s market. One makes tortillas de maiz, the other tortillas de harina. She wanted to introduce us to them. A conversation ensued between Blanca and Angelica. I asked Angelica what they were saying. She said that she asked her mom what she was going to say when people asked “Who are they?” Her mom said, with a touch of bitterness “We will tell them we are their employer!” (Chad and I read this differently. He thinks it was all in fun.) In the spirit of being humble and as gracious as possible, I said “You bet! Tell them I am your house cleaner!” She seemed to soften. She introduced us to her brother and sister both of whom gave us samples of their lovely tortillas. Her sister sent us with two free packages worth. A very generous gift.

We returned to their home and sat down to a meal of thin steak, cucumbers, napol salad (cactus, tomato, onion, cilantro) beans and tortillas – all delicious. There was no silverware on the table and I thought they had just forgotten to put it out. Angelica got a fork for me but no other silverware. She then explained that they usually use their fingers and tortillas. I politely put my fork down and joined in. The kid’s stomachs have been a bit upset and they aren’t that adventuresome when it comes to food anyways. Blanca insisted that they try everything. I begged Jaydn with my eyes to please comply so as to not offend them. She was a trouper and let Blanca shove cactus in her mouth. We talked, as best we could, about life. About why we came to Mexico. About our need for diversion from what have been a challenging couple of years. We spoke of Chad’s dad’s cancer and passing. We spoke of my cancer. Blanca and I discovered that we both think pesticides play a big role in cancers. During that conversation no one was thinking about being American or Mexican, we just became a group of human beings speaking about life. We all have no choice but to continue the journey forward through illness, death, birth, celebrations, family dynamics regardless of ethnicity or economics.

The girls played very well with Angelica’s ten year old sister and four year old daughter. The language barrier didn’t seem to matter. They all knew the language of play and that was all that was important.

We ended the meal with some galletas (cookies) that we had picked-up as a gift to bring. It was time to depart. We thanked and hugged Blanca repeatedly. Angelica offered to take the bus back with us. We politely declined. We didn’t want to take up that much of her time and thought we would enjoy the challenge of navigating the bus on our own. She wrote down the bus number to take and told us to tell the bus driver “Bajame en El Parian,” which basically means “Drop me off at El Parian” – a courtyard filled with restaurants practically next door to our house. She walked with us to the bus stop. We said good-bye and she asked us to call her and she would go with us to Tonala to see where many of the wonderful handicrafts are manufactured.

All things considered, the day was friendly and did add some good to the world – perhaps a little understanding. I believe we are friends.

Barranca Oblatos - The Canyon

2007-06-15T23:18:00.000-05:00

Our friend and landlord, Pablo, took us on an excursion to the canyon just East of Guadalajara - Barranca Oblatos. The kids were thrilled to not need car seats as we went speeding through the city. The views were stunning and the exercise was a welcome change to our routine.

The canyon creates a natural border for the city and prevents unchecked growth on all sides. They have built the city up to the edge of the canyon, but thankfully, it appears to be relatively untouched.

Enjoy the photos from day 5.

Chad

More Tales from Tlaquepaque and Beyond

2007-06-14T14:16:00.000-05:00

Each day presents opportunities to glean bits of information that make communication easier. On Tuesday, we stayed close to home. We don’t need to go far to find new experiences. Observing daily life in our own little community provides plenty of opportunities for learning. As I stated in an early post, we are definitely having an immersion experience. I feel like a small pebble surrounded by ocean. To really emphasize how much we stand out in this community, imagine a bunch of zebras standing in the plains of Africa and then imagine that four of those zebras are fluorescent pink with electric green stripes. The girls especially attract attention. Quite often when we pass someone on the street, they seem unable to stop themselves from lovingly touching the girls golden locks and/or round faces. The girls take it in stride. The attention given them is much the same as the attention I find myself doling out when I see a baby with beautiful mocha skin and a head full of black hair.

There are so many little shops and street vendors. It is hard to imagine how they all stay in business. Some of the shops seem empty most of the time. Like the herbal pharmacist we visited for a topical to treat the kid’s mosquito bites. It doesn’t seem like it gets many shoppers. (By the way…the topical worked wonders!) I finally found a small shop that was a natural food store of sorts. After a couple of days of searching, here I finally found brown rice. Arroz integral!!! Very difficult to find. My youngest eats so few things that eating here has been difficult for her. Peanut butter is one of her staples. This was like panning for gold. Even after I learned the Spanish term, crema de cacahuates, it was still hard to find. I found a small jar at the dollar store. Perhaps it would have been better to go without it.

I have also had some difficulty explaining other food items I have been searching for. It took forever to figure out that the word for spices is “especias.” We were looking for spices such as cumin and chili to add flavor to our beans – a definite staple. The kids have actually uttered “Beans again?” several times. Panchito has the best stand in the market for spices and beans. Thanks to Lorenza from the bread stand. She walked around the market with me and acted as my personal translator. Still an interesting endeavor; if I am a Kindergartner in Spanish she is a First Grader in English. A step above me but communication is still rough. Lorenza and I are going to get together to practice conversation in both languages.

Chad said to me “Vashti, you make every encounter a lesson!” I try. I am eager to learn this language. It makes for a slow trek through town though. I’m sure I sound like an idiot most of the time. I do think I provide amusement for the locals. Once I master a phrase I just use it over and over with people as I pass them on the street. “Que la vaya bien! Que la vaya bien! Que la vaya bien! (basically means “have a good day.)” Chad thinks that when we aren’t using a phrase that we know to be correct that we just sound like Borat does speaking English, only more polite, I hope!

As we wondered around town on Tuesday, my oldest daughter kept asking “Is this a poor country?” Many places appear to be very run down. There is lots of dirt, trash and graffiti. However, the streets are narrow so it isn’t as if you could get a street sweeping truck down them. There is a team of workers who push garbage cans around carrying brooms like I’ve never seen before. They sweep up at the end of each day. Also, this is a much older place than we are used to in the Western United States so of course, things look different. With that said, I know that the economic situation is very different here. When my child asks “Is this a poor country?” The easy answer is “yes.” However, I have begun trying to define “poverty” for myself. I don’t know how to answer this question posed by my daughter. I don’t exactly know how to articulate what I am trying to figure out so I won’t ramble. I will leave this topic with one thought. The American standard of living has set an unattainable bar for most of the world’s population and for the planet’s capacity. In the eyes of a middle/upper class American child, does anything below this standard of living equal poverty to them? I have often thought that with the privilege, abundance, and blatant excess that is my world comes a great deal of responsibility. One of those responsibilities is giving my children a global education. Perhaps this journey is just a drop in the bucket of global knowledge but it is at least a place to begin.

There seems to be just as much discrepancy between economic classes here as there is in the United States. On the tour of Guadalajara on Wednesday, once we left the historic downtown area (which I hope to see more of), we ended up in a very Americanized area. Mercedes dealers along with other auto dealers. Holiday Inn, Burger King, McDonald’s, Chili’s. That was the part of the tour I didn’t enjoy. You see one strip mall, you’ve seen them all. We all couldn’t wait to return to Tlaquepaque. Plus, there was a recorded tour guide with a Texas accent pointing out everything along the way. As Chad put it, it felt like we spent four hours with George Bush as our guide.

We are very lucky that the Tlaquepaque experience is the authentic immersion we hoped for. It was like playing slots on the internet to find this place. With basically zero knowledge or recommendations we ended up here. After our tour yesterday we see just how good we have it! Que Suerte!

The final experience I will write about on this post happened on Tuesday night. Our oldest daughter was invited to attend English classes with local kids. It ended up being a great experience for all the children. Jaydn will be more comfortable attempting to speak Spanish after watching the efforts of the English students. The students loved Jaydn. It was great for them to have an English speaking conversation partner. The highlights were playing hangman with English words and asking questions about one another’s likes. They wanted to know what our favorite movies are. I said mine are “The Princess Bride” and “A Christmas Story.” Hmmm…..no recognition. We asked them their favorite movie and one girl exuberantly said “Mas Barato por Docena!” The other kids in the room enthusiastically agreed. We had no idea. The teacher tried to translate the title. She said “cheaper, dozen.” Jaydn and I both exclaimed “Cheaper by the Dozen?” The kids immediately recognized this and began clapping. A great moment of a shared favorite. Even if it is a silly, American movie with Steve Martin! What an ambassador and bridge of cultures that guy is. Wonder if he knows? More tomorrow!

Day 4: Blatant Tourism

2007-06-13T22:24:00.000-05:00

Hello everyone. We did it. We became the American Tourists. Me with my camera and Ma' with her kids, we all settled in for tour bus blitz. 4-5 hours later we were hot and tired and longing for our quaint little home in (relatively) quiet Tlaquepaque.

I'm convinced that we needed to go through the painful excursion so that we wouldn't do it on a crowded weekend or leave MX and wish we'd seen more.

Guadalajara is a wonderful, bustling city. But it's no place to take your kids in the middle of the day on a slow tour bus.

Here are our mandatory tourist photos.

:)
Chad

Day 3: A Photo Album

2007-06-12T19:35:00.000-05:00

I've put together a short photo album of the 12 best photos of the day.

We saw several street musicians and lots and lots of kids. Both of the musicians you'll see in the photos happened to be blind. The lady we met appeared to be singing with her son who played guitar as they harmonized. She held a tin cup (litterally) on her lap. The man playing the saxaphone was part of a traveling (wandering) group consisting of two marimbas, snare and timbales, and a roving front man carrying a large tin cup.

We entered a restaurant for late lunch and were greeted by four young teenagers with a hand-written sign. It said, "Hugs for Free," and they went to each of us and energetically hugged us with mucho amor. I've never been greeted so kindly.

There is some beautiful art on display here in Tlaquepaque. You will see some of my favorites in today's photo album.

:)
Chad

Our home in Guadalajara (Tlaquepaque)

2007-06-11T18:18:00.001-05:00

Here is a short video tour of our home in Tlaquepaque, Mexico.

Enjoy!
Chad

Did I just agree to teach your son English? And, other communications (or mis) from Dia Dos

2007-06-11T17:00:00.001-05:00

Mantequilla. Mantequilla. Mantequilla. That is me repeating myself in writing in hopes of learning the word for butter. I thought I was communicating effectively but came home with sour cream. One of many of today's communication errors.

Much of today was spent gathering the necessary supplies for "Casa Contenta." It was exciting, stimulating, and exhausting all rolled into one. We spent much of today at the traditional market. Stand after stand of fresh fruta y vegetales, pan(bread) y meat. We avoided the meat stands as there appeared to be no refrigeration in sight. Slabs of meat sat in the humidity and warm weather for hours. The germaphobe in me just couldn't bring myself to purchase any. When eating at home I think we will be consuming muchos frijoles. We did come home with fruit, vegetables, fresh salsa verde, and fresh bread and tortillas. I think we have almost figured out Pesos.

We were approached by several people today and for reasons that frankly, surprised me. At the market, a woman and her son purchased fruit beside me. They followed me to the cremeria, which, incidentally is where I finally found butter, uh, mantequilla.
At the cremeria she began talking to me. I could tell she was asking questions but I really hadn't a clue as to what she wanted. The woman working at the cremaria noticed and was humored by our conversation. She beckoned a young man to come to my assistance. His English was a step above my Spanish and he attempted to translate. I still have no idea what was communicated. I sort of think she told me she was coming to our house and I was going to teach her son English. I thought I told her over and over again that I was not an English teacher but rather a student of Spanish. She was persistent. I think she will show up at our door.

The other two people that approached us today made me sad and left me with many more questions than answers. The first woman had a four year old daughter. She was very nice and helped us find some flip-flops. A few minutes later, a group of 14-15 year old boys was interviewing us as part of their English studies. The woman and her daughter approached mi esposa and asked to speak with us privately after the interview was over. We sat on a park bench with her for quite a while and listened to her story. Her daughter was born in the United States and is a U.S. citizen. Her husband is working in the United States illegally and she can't get permission to go across the border. She told us about his six day walking journey to get into the United States. A very dangerous trek without food or water. She was on the verge of tears and seemed very desperate as she told us about her daughter's longing to be with her father. A very sad story of separation that I am afraid is repeated thousands of times here. She invited us to her home to meet her parents and gave us her phone number. She wasn't asking for money. I think she thinks that because we are American we can somehow help her get into the United States. I think that she knows that we can't but somehow talking to us made her feel connected to her husband. I don't know. We will send an e-mail to a friend of ours who is an immigration attorney simply to get information and to educate ourselves. I don't think it will help. We will call our new friend and share a meal with her family while our little girls play together. That is all we can do.

The next person that approached me was a gentleman named "Jimmy." He had been caught illegally in the United States. He voluntarily (with the help of an attorney) came back to Mexico. He was given a paper from the US Dept. of State. He spoke English very well but could not read it. He asked Chad and I to explain the legal document that he was given by our country and told to give to Mexican immigration. He is trying to get through paper work and get back to his wife, son, and house back in the United States. Once again, he asked for nothing more than for us to explain this paper to him. We also tried explaining to him that we basically need a translator ourselves to wade through American legalese. We parted. "Mucho gusto. Que la vaya bien!" He crossed the street and as we were walking away he quickly ran back to us and asked "Is there anything you need during your stay? Anything I can do for you?" All of these experiences will bring a new level of profoundness to the headlines back home we so often see about the immigration debate.

We made our way to the school today just to check things out. It will be a lovely place to be. One teacher made friends immediately with the girls. She is teaching English here but is from Indiana. The school will be a nice community to be a part of. She also has a friend who lives nearby and commutes to the same office mi esposa needs to go to. She is going to see if she can arrange a carpool. Es bueno!

I even ventured out by myself to pick up the last of our supplies that we forgot. Geez! Try to communicate "lighter" or "matches" when you don't speak the language. I'm quite sure that the natives think that I'm some chain smoking fiend. I just want to be able to light my stove and a few candles (another problem word to communicate). It was made even more complicated by the fact that I needed one of those long, trigger lighters so as not to get burned when lighting the gas stove. God only knows what they thought I wanted. Really long cigarettes? I finally found an encendedor y velas (lighter and candles). I found them at Waldos - a good old dollar store. A woman heard me talking (pointing and saying nonsense syllables rather). She looked Mexican to me so when she approached me I fumbled with Spanish. Well, turns out she is from New Mexico and came to study Spanish. When she saw me in the store (remember how I said we stick out?) she immediately knew who I was. Turns out the school told her about me this morning. We will be classmates beginning next week. There might be a third woman joining us but that's it. The girls will basically get private lessons as no other children are currently enrolled.

Our pot of beans is done for our evening meal. My oldest is riding her bike around the courtyard. The youngest is naked, running around alternating between fit throwing and singing songs about her body parts (yes, it is as bad as it sounds). No nap. It is also a problem preventing her from drinking the tap water. She just doesn't get that sucking the water out of her hair is the same as drinking it from the tap.

My allergies have subsided. What a relief. We have food and COFFEE for breakfast (found a great coffee shop today too). An even bigger relief. I'm am ecstatic to be here. I feel excited to be learning. I learned more today than I think I did in three years of college. And, as for the ear plugs. A MUST HAVE to sleep. This is the loudest place I have ever been. A teacher at the school said "It is a loud country." At least I don't have to worry about my three year old's bi-polar expressions disturbing the natives. She is just one small picollo in the crazy symphony that never stops.

Arrival

2007-06-10T19:09:00.000-05:00

We are at the beginning of our five week immersion experience. Our journey here went well with the exception of an unbelievable attack of allergies I seem to be having. I'm quite sure that I used an entire tree's worth of paper products mopping my face today.

The moment we stepped out of customs and into the main part of the airport in Guadalajara I felt like we stuck out. Let's just say there will be know blending in with the crowd especially with my blond haired, blue eyed hijas. So this is what it feels like to be a minority. Of course, we are here by choice. As most of you know, I'll chat-up anyone. The language barrier hasn't stopped me from trying here although in our first five hours on the ground I have found myself pretending to understand so as not to appear rude. A couple of street vendors were trying to explain something or other to me (lucky yellow birds - I think) and I just smiled, nodded my head, and kept repeating "Ah! Uh, huh!" As if I understood more than two words. I almost found myself bowing repeatedly Japanese style as I tried to back away and back-out of conversations. Yes, I retreated from a good chat.

The cab ride was smooth. We just handed the driver a map after we pre-paid at a kiosk inside the airport. Carseats?! We could only find one seatbelt. In the spirit of protecting the young, we gave it to the youngest. She was thrilled to not be in a carseat and the oldest was more than thrilled to not be buckled. There was only one close call as two lanes merged together.

We arrived a "Casa Contenta" - the "Luxury House." I would use many words to describe it but perhaps not "Luxury." It is very old. Pablo and Guadalupe (son and mother) are our landlords. Pablo said that this used to be his grandfather's house and was built in the late 1800's. The location is very bizarre. All of the streets are narrow and extremely busy with both pedestrian and car traffic. FYI - cars DON'T yield to peds here. It is every man, woman and child for herself! Our "house" is a part of one, big, long building. I think there is another home to our left and some kind of restaurant to our right. It is very difficult to tell what is inside these places from the outside. Our very front door is about twelve feet high and wooden. Once you step inside another five feet you are greeted by twelve foot high wrought iron gate which leads to a courtyard filled with many potted plants and the largest aloe vera I have ever seen. The courtyard sits in the middle of three sections of home, basically. There is the main living space which includes a dining room, small living room, small kitchen and a bathroom sandwiched between two small bedrooms. There are ear plugs on the night stands. I'm a bit worried about what that means. We'll see! Off the other side of the court yard is another bedroom with a desk from where I am presently typing. Off to another side is a set of stairs going up to another bedroom with a balcony overlooking said courtyard. In other words, from two of the bedrooms you have to go outside to come back inside to use the bathroom. It has many interesting qualities. I would describe it as an authentic Mexican place. It is like nothing I have seen before. Once we figure out what the earplugs are for, get some wash cloths, dish cloths, and dish towels, it might just put the "Luxury" back into "Casa Contenta - Luxury House!"

Now that the scene is set I will tell you that this will be nothing less than complete immersion. We are definitely living in a community where I saw very few tourists as we took our first tour. As I mention earlier, we stick out like a hairy mole, so we figured, what the heck, we might as well carry our big ol' camera around on excursion numero uno. I have read enough to know that asking permission prior to taking a photo is good manners so we politely "asked" (pointed and said nonsense syllables) permission of everyone we photographed. We will continue to do so because some people in Latin American countries believe that having a photo taken of you steals your soul. With that knowledge, photo taken without permission is more than bad manners, it would equal some seriously bad karma.

We walked around a bit. This area is definitely a spot where people sit and people watch, drink, eat and shop. There are several eating places complete with Mariachi Bands. Two were in the restaurant we just finished eating dinner in. At times, they were playing less than 20 feet apart. It was in stereo except two different songs at once.

Any misconception that we might have had about things, uh, uh......pardon.....lost my train of thought and a portion of my hearing do to passing vehicle with booming Mexican Bass I felt clear to my kidneys....Oh....I was saying that any misconception I had about things being "cheap" here was blown out of the water. Dinner was $55 American Dollars. It was a good meal and get this....our waiter lived in our hometown for 6 years. I discovered this when we asked him how he learned English so well. Also, he worked at and his brother owns Casa de Mexico. There are at least three in our hometown, one just a few block away on 13th. Do you here "It's a small world after all?" However, we'll be finding a market and cooking in for the majority of our time. Also, everyone to whom we have said "we plan on using the bus system" to just snickers at us. With that said, we are going to have to figure out how Chad will get to and from work for our middle three weeks. It's looking like it will have to be a taxi which could run $20-$25 bucks per day. Pablo and his mom are going to try to find a "friend who is a taxi driver" to commit to being Chad's personal chaufferto and from work for $15 per day. We'll see how it all works out.

There are courtyards, parks, gathering places, street vendors, and artisans everywhere. I look forward to updating everyone as well as making sense of the experience myself through daily, or near daily blog entries.

For now, I will say Buenos Noches, pull my kids away from the Spanish Disney Channel (I hear your sighs of disgust but what can I say, it was a brutal travel day para mis hijas. No more though! Unless I need to blog!) Please send a good thought that these allergies disappear because if not, it will mix a little misery in with my immersion. More tomorrow!