Goodbye Hello

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?

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

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)

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

The dialogue continues:

Universe

What is generosity?

Me

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?

Me

[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

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?"

ME

[ 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."

ME

[ 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

(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.