McLErvin' Around the World

Santa in GDL

2011-12-23T11:40:00.000-08:00

It was a leaner but not meaner Santa this year who came to visit during this year's posada, which caused some skepticism from Ruby at first. She took one look at those scrawny legs and called the bluff. Iris went straight to his lap, however, and her older sister, once she realized that Iris might dominate the negotiations, took her turn cheerfully too. By then, Santa had retucked his pants into his boot tops, which didn't hurt either. Santa was sweet and gentle and we really appreciate him coming to Guadalajara. Ruby recently suggested that maybe Santa would like some carrots and celery instead of cookies on Christmas Eve, as he must get a little tired of cookies that night. She seemed to buy the story regarding the skinny legs and lack of belly that maybe Santa had thought a little bit about his health and started eating better this past year. The trickier questions of late involve exactly where he parked his reindeer the day of the posada.

The turtle wars

2011-12-20T13:23:00.000-08:00

Chalk one up for the school on the turtle wars. Let's hope it doesn't end in a lawsuit in which their small victory becomes a huge defeat. Guess what they gave out at the end of our school's Christmas posada? Nasty little salmonella carrying turtles. Those of you who have long memories and have actually read this blog over the course of our tour here know that I've been on the warpath about the turtles before with our school. The sale of turtles with shells of less than four inches in width has been prohibited since 1975 because, yes, they carry salmonella. The bacteria apparently flourishes naturally on their skin and shells. A cursory search online will yield the news of various salmonella outbreaks in recent years in the U.S. that have been traced back to turtles. When Iris first began attending, our school had turtles in an open tank in the babies' classroom. Granted, we were not in the U.S., but a health regulation that has stood the test of time for forty years there (and numerous salmonella outbreaks have been traced back to turtles in the U.S., in spite of the ban) might be worth considering when one, you are a school that desperately wants more foreign, and especially English-speaking students, and two, you've got a mother of just such students who patiently explains why it's not a good idea, over and over again. It took me the better part of six months to convince them to remove the little beasts. At the time, I explained to no less than three administrators, including the owners of the school, why allowing bite size turtles in an preschool classroom was a bad idea. I was clear. I was concise. I was polite but insistent, in both languages no less. They understood. Or at least I thought they did, until they took the remarkably irresponsible action of giving away the gods only know how many turtles today. And to make matters worse, in a moment of parental panic (not wanting the girls to be upset, not wanting to appear ungrateful after all the work the school's teachers had put into the posada, which was great, and just generally not wanting to be those disagreeable gringos), we took two turtles home. By the time we had gotten to the house, tremendous remorse and utter despair at what idiots we were and not a small amount of annoyance with the school had set in and we had decided that the turtles were not staying. The girls, ironically, did not seem to care one way or another. After all, we have a huge dog who is ultimately a lot more interesting, entertaining, and affectionate than a reptile could ever be. Those fearing the worst for the turtles should be reassured. Mike headed back to work with plans to dump the turtles at the school with apologies and a subtly phrased reminder that they were not the healthiest of gifts for a preschool to give out, but our door guy already has two and wanted to expand the turtle family. Happy ending. We also avoided an awkward moment with the school's administration at the end of a very nice day on which we would prefer to appreciate their hard work. But yes, you might guess that I am secretly hoping that someone from the school sees this (I have a feeling they take a peek every once in a while, especially after last year's politically incorrect posada). So if you're family or a friend or someone in the FS or thinking about the FS who is curious about our life or just one of our stalkers, you can probably stop reading right here. If, however, you happen to be someone from the school, you should click on the links below and learn about salmonella. I know you can read English if you've gotten this far, so do it, for the sake of the children you take care of at your otherwise quite wonderful school, and also for the sake of the pregnant moms and grandparents and anyone with a compromised immune system. Salmonella can at the very least make one miserable and in the worst case scenario, it can kill. And there are enough food-borne illnesses in this country that we should take the precautions to eliminate another factor, especially among a vulnerable population like our children. Take a look at these sites to learn more:
Center for Disease Control Healthy Pets
or
US Food & Drug Administration Salmonella and Turtle Safety
And while I'm ranting, I bet there will be a lot of little turtle deaths within the coming weeks as a result of this ill-conceived gesture, accidental and otherwise. The directions for care that came with them were inadequate and while a turtle is not an expensive or difficult pet to maintain, asking parents in this economy, in this country, to lay out the cash for an appropriate tank, rocks, a filter, etc., a week before Christmas, knowing that half those families will go on vacation, was just not smart. I don't care for them, but they are living creatures after all.

Iris in her Tapatia tacones

2011-12-11T07:27:00.000-08:00

You know your daughter has been living in Guadalajara too long when she dons loads of jewelry, the obligatory shades and her "tacones," or high heels for any outing. She can even run in the heels, which is more than most Tapatias can do, but that may be a reflection of her rather more practical heel height, coming in at a whopping inch rather than the six inch stripper styles favored by the local ladies. The panda bear instead of the Gucci bags also seems like a wise choice for the fashion forward toddler.

Colombo 2013!

2011-09-09T08:05:00.000-07:00

In the midst of R&R, the chaos of visiting with family and friends and eating everything craved in the last year and soaking in the sun and clean air and shopping like crazy in anticipation of the coming year and of course, tangling with a two year old and a four year old without the respite of school or babysitter, we submitted our bid list. It was a tough balancing act (not so much because of the vacation with small children) but more for the need to find some sort of equilibrium amongst the factors we had ranked as crucial to us, in the hopes that the powers that be would show mercy in making the assignment. A reporting job for Mike (meaning a job as either political officer or in a pinch, econ officer) had to be offset by the need to find posts where we could live reasonably, (meaning we hoped to avoid a horrible security situation, be able to purchase milk and other basic necessities, find adequate medical care and send the girls to a decent school). We had axed most of the places on Mike's list where anything greater than a cold required a medevac, the only English speaking school boasted a dirt floor, car jackings occurred on a daily basis, or milk sometimes absented itself from the store shelves for months at a time. We had, however, compromised by listing a number of places with such attractions as malaria, packs of wild dogs, and milk at over $10 a box (which isn't even close to a gallon). Our top ten included posts in Africa (north and sub-Saharan), Asia (and there we covered virtually every sub-region) and eastern Europe. Most were what are considered by the State Department to be hardship posts, meaning that these are still developing economies with all the challenges that living in such places can bring. Much to our surprise and relief, we got our first pick, Colombo, Sri Lanka. It's a place that neither of us know much about, but it appears by all accounts to be remarkably livable, albeit at a great distance from the U.S. So the plan for now is to leave GDL next summer, spend roughly 7-8 months in DC, where Mike will study Tamil and do some training. I'm currently on the fence about studying Sinhala or just taking that time to reorganize, enjoy DC and figure out how to put together 2500 pounds of consumables to ship to Colombo--more on that later. Ruby will start kindergarten in Arlington, hopefully at one of the Spanish immersion schools in the area and we'll have to confront the frightening expense of some sort of school in the area for Iris as well. And of course, we now have to face the conundrum of housing for such a weird period of time in DC. The State Department makes it easy in some ways with its contract with Oakwood corporate housing but there are other much nicer options available if one is willing to deal with the enormous hassle of negotiating the kind of lease that we require, which must include strange rent arrangements to account for shifting per diem allowances and a diplomatic clause allowing us to get out of the lease as necessary if Mike's assignment changes. There's much to ponder and plan for, which is one of the reasons why we have over a year to figure out how to handle the DC end of things, and even more time to make arrangements for Colombo (right hand drive cars, for example!).

Low tide

2011-08-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

Cousins at low tide, crab in hand.

Sandfish spotted.

Water warrior.

Getting wet.

She eventually just got naked.

Nate found an eagle feather.

Trevor captured a hermit crab.

Mike enjoyed his coffee and felt cool in his new t-shirt.

The Marine Life Center in the 'ham

2011-08-31T13:57:00.000-07:00

Mugga and the cousins with the critters in the touch pool.

Irie entranced.

Ruby underwater.

Snack time in the treehouse

2011-08-31T13:54:00.001-07:00

Blueberries and edamame.

High tide

2011-08-31T13:54:00.000-07:00

Grandpa Bob came to visit us at the tree house. He brought a tent for the beach.

Three generations in the morning sunshine.

Irie, pixie-like, joined us to play fairy tea set for a while.

Iris, pouring tea for fairy friends. It's all fairies, princesses and mermaids these days..

Ruby, looking ethereal herself. Is there such a thing as a beach fairy?

The third and final leg: Tree house, beach house

2011-08-31T13:53:00.000-07:00

We spent the second week resting and recreating on the Lummi peninsula just minutes from Bellingham. As my sister's house is in the midst of renovation upheaval, we rented a luxurious little casita built up in the trees with views of the northern Cascades and the Strait of Georgia. We searched for stones and shells and ate blackberries from the brambles growing along the path down to the water. A pair of great blue herons graced us with their presence, nesting somewhere up behind the house in the enormous trees and croaking over us in the night. We slept looking out onto the bay, watching the lights of passing ships slide by while bats dipped and swung after the mosquitos and awoke to the calls of the gulls as they flew in to feast on clams and crabs at low tide. It felt like home, even if it wasn't our house, in the way the northwest has always felt like home to me, a refuge from the stark cornfields of the midwest. And for now, it will be what the girls call home, even if it isn't a fixed location but rather a feeling, the chill in the air of the desert night on the east side of the mountains or the dampness of the ocean on the west side, smokey sockeye on the grill, the sweet summer berries, the pungency of evergreens everywhere, the verdant produce at a farmer's market, and that strange cultural blend of hippies and loggers and dot.commers and happy transplants like myself doing their thing in the PNW.

The second leg: Ellensburg

2011-08-31T08:26:00.000-07:00

We headed east along the Colombia, hanging a left somewhere after a pit stop at The Dalles' Burgerville (uh oh--second round of fish and chips, along with truly northwestalicious blackberry shakes) to snake through the wine country of the Yakima valley and up over the hills and down again toward "Elsenburg," as Ruby still calls it. We spent a few days in the 'burg catching up with dear old friends (thanks for the lovely meal and the quake advice for our bid list and sorry the girls were so crazy with colds and vacation fatigue, Marie and Stephen!) and spending time with friends who are newer (but feel like old ones anyway, although we wish we had met them sooner when we were still in town). We did the obligatory nostalgia tour of our old house and campus and our favorite neighborhood park, leaving souvenir cocktail sticks from Tonala here and there, and yes, believe it or not, we ate Mexican food. If you asked Ruby, she would probably say those enchiladas from El Caporal were the best meal she ate the entire vacation. She hummed to each quesolicious bite. The rest of the time we spent just hanging at Sarah and Derik's beautiful house out a ways in the valley, on what was essentially a three day playdate for Ruby and Iris with their girls, Lanie and Lily. Lanie and Ruby go way back, along with their friend Alice, who came over to play one day too. It didn't take the girls long to renew the bonds of friendship.

The first leg: Portland

2011-08-30T13:35:00.000-07:00

Is that a fairy in the garden?

Ruby, reunited with her first man crush after Daddy, our friend Andrew.

A trap, constructed by Ruby with Andrew's assistance.

Elephants!

The girls traveled like troopers all day on the first leg of our R&R, with a brief respite in Seattle to pick up a car and grab some fish and chips at Southcenter Mall, of all places. The food court there looks out upon Mt. Rainier, which was hiding that day, although we had seen it in all its monstrous glory from above before landing at Seatac. The mall felt like home, in astonishing ways--home because it was a familiar mecca of American consumerism, and home in a GDL kind of way, because easily a third of the people there were speaking Spanish. We walked out into the parking lot and I kid you not, the first vehicle I happened to fix upon was a gigantic black Escalade with a silvery decal declaring its owner's love of Guadalajara, Jalisco. I hate to sound like a sappy character from Grey's Anatomy, but seriously? Yes, seriously. Anyway, we hopped in the car and headed south, past Tacoma which has apparently gotten quite a face lift since I last drove out of Seattle that way, past Olympia, down the Colombia, to PDX, where we spent the next few days indulging in too much of everything, in that glorious, northwest summer at its height kind of way. We finally got our hands on some of Pok Pok's famous wings, which apparently do deserve the acclaim they have earned, and practically made ourselves sick grubbing takeout from Chennai Masala and Hoda's. There was home brew and excellent wine and greens from the garden and zero sales tax and a trip to the zoo, all of which which added to the fun. We just generally lounged and lingered at the home of our dear friends Andrew and Robyn, catching up and playing with girls and enjoying the respite from our minor rat race in GDL.

"Irie birthday two!"

2011-08-11T08:25:00.000-07:00

The above phrase must be uttered while thumping one's chest, followed by a laborious show of two fingers for her two years, which took her a while to get the hang of this past week. Iris turned two a few days ago past, with much ado from friends and family and more to come when we head up the PNW in two days. She's confused by the fact that she shares her birthday week with a grandpa, her father, and an uncle too, and keeps insisting, when other's bdays are mentioned, "Irie birthday mine!" Here she is, enjoying cupcakes and ponies and of course, her beloved sister on her special day.

R&R in the PNW

2011-08-08T14:34:00.000-07:00

It's R&R season for most of us here in GDL are rotating through this foreign service ritual. Many friends have already made the trek north to various parts of the U.S. and we are anxiously awaiting our turn to head up in a matter of days. Iris is looking forward to the plane ride, while Ruby remembers enough of cousins and doting friends of ours and hers and good food and fresh air to turn herself inside out while waiting for the trip to begin. There's a reason why so many, although not all, posts have R&R. You really do need to get out once in a while and recharge your batteries after the grind of life in a foreign country. Even if GDL is foreign service light compared to what we will likely see on the next tour, I'm really looking forward to a break from the narco news, the grind of traffic and less than civilized drivers, the grime, etc. Most of these matters aren't all that grievous, but like many things in this country, one wonders if a little effort couldn't make it so much better. And that's a daily frustration that one sometimes need to walk away from for a spell in order to take on another year. So bring on the organic heirloom tomatoes and all the splendor of summer produce at the height of the Pacific northwest summer, bring on the spunky red wines and the hoppy microbrews, fish and chips or maybe breakfast at Etta's down in the market, Vietnamese at Tamarind Tree in Seattle's Chinatown, the Lebanese joint in SE Portland our friends always take us to, a spree at Target and Nordie's Rack, the inevitable trip to the mothership REI, and a gazillion other consumer pleasures, but most of all, bring on the company. We can't wait to see you all!

Doggie delight

2011-07-27T08:00:00.000-07:00

Feliz cumple, Chu!

2011-07-26T06:45:00.000-07:00

Chucho, our first baby, turns ten today. We got an early start on celebrating with cupcakes yesterday. Ruby and Natalia, our sitter and Chu's best friend these days, as she is his only hope of ever getting walked, made one especially for the beast. It was gone in a matter of seconds, but he enjoyed the sprinkles afterward, licking them out of the carpet with all the care he usually gives to his vacuuming responsibilities around the house. We're hoping to take him to DQ this afternoon for a birthday treat as well. We don't normally devote this much attention to the poor dog, but ten seems like an achievement.

The list

2011-07-21T14:57:00.000-07:00

"Got the list. Might be late." was the text I got earlier this afternoon. Deep breath on my part, as the arrival of the list in Mike's hands is only the first step in a waiting game that plagues the lives of foreign service officers and their families every two to three years. This list contains the jobs available for bidding for our next posting. We've got another year here, but it's never too soon to start packing or purging or preparing in one way or another, and fortunately, the DOS needs all that time to figure out not just where people are going but to get them and their stuff there in a reasonable fashion. This initial version of the list is a bit cruel, as perhaps as many as half of the posts (virtually all of the ones in developed countries with good food, good health care, good education, etc.) will disappear in another week or so, taken by those officers coming out of Iraq and Pakistan and other posts that are considered high hardship places. Then it will be up to us to figure out which of the remaining places work best for Mike's career, our family, the dog, etc. It's a complicated calculus that one could waste hours of one's life worrying about, but it might be smarter to simply say, well, there's a bunch of places that we really don't want to go to and here are a bunch that we're willing to try on for size. Health care matters a lot when you've got small children but maybe education is not so crucial at this point. Would be nice if there's decent food available locally, as I don't care to feed two small children and myself imported mac and cheese for two years. Not sure if we want another Spanish speaking post or if we should head into some new linguistic adventure. I am just going to accept the fact that we will inevitably end up somewhere harder to live than Guadalajara, and I can also embrace the fact that somewhere new and novel rather than a country you are already acquainted with holds a certain attraction, even if it will be more challenging.

On the sisterly bond

2011-07-12T08:25:00.000-07:00

These girls, for the time being anyway, simply adore each other. Iris's first word each morning and upon waking from her nap is usually a querying "Buby?" and Ruby, in turn, can hardly bear to let her sister sleep in or take that very necessary nap for too long. At school, the teachers have confessed that Ruby regularly begs to visit Iris and of course, because she is persistent and because they are indulgent about that sort of thing, she does so on a regular basis. I have also learned of late that Ruby begs the babysitter, who is a sweetheart and reluctant to put her foot down, to let her sleep with Iris. If Ruby had her way, she'd be in the crib with Irie, but they sometimes settle on Ruby in the bed next to the crib. They will share a room soon enough, and I bet that Ruby will sneak down from the top bunk to snuggle.
Summer school has just begun and the girls are together in a group of kids ranging from Iris's age to six. Ruby is taking her big sister duties seriously, as I asked her to keep an eye on Iris with the bigger kids. Two boys pulled a stick gun routine on Iris yesterday, but Ruby put her foot down about that immediately. She was a little disappointed that they then turned their guns on her, but it sounds like she took it in stride as pretty typical on the part of some of her little male companeros. She served herself and Iris their lunches, out of lunch bags they are so preciously proud of as the normal routine is that of a group lunch. Never mind that the tops didn't make it back onto the pasta salad containers when the bags came home. Iris reported, with no small sense of import, that "Ruby sit wif Irie."
They are fast friends and budding co-conspirators, hiding together, plotting together, playing together. I walked into the kitchen the other day to find them chanting "caca caca chucha" to a snappy little tune, which roughly translates to "poopy poopy p_ _ _ y." Ruby took the news pretty well that it was not an appropriate thing to sing, confessed she had learned it at school without having the faintest idea what it meant, and agreed that Iris would soon embarrass us in the grocery store or somewhere else if they kept singing it. We'll see if it resurfaces. In the meantime, we are enjoying the sisterly love while it lasts.

Parque Colomos, 9:15 am

2011-06-21T12:45:00.000-07:00

Stillness bordering on cool, for the first time in months. Skunk, pine, the dryness of the needles compressed by a tropical storm edging its way upland from the coast. Meat and onions, morning prep for comida and a merciful absence of cologne. A few middle-aged men out to stave off the premature heart attacks and various ailments plaguing their generation. Mostly women, youngish mamas and older, with remarkably few babies in strollers. The deep green of dry trees awaiting the imminent rain matched by equal amounts of the dusty ochre of the season, both punctuated by bougainvillea, lilies and the bright, tight tee-shirts sported by the park's visitors. Joggers among the younger set, speed-walking among the older crowd and those too top-heavy, by choice in this town, to handle the rigors of a run. Quiet, without the weekend crowds and children and chaos, the clouds cushioning the dull crush of the city beyond the trees.

Last lonche!

2011-06-16T12:55:00.000-07:00

The school year is winding down, with just a few days remaining for Iris and another week beyond that for Ruby. Today was Ruby's last lonche, which in my opinion is real reason to celebrate. Mike was up at six making 48 dinosaur turkey cheese sandwiches and I had made my Costco trip earlier in the week to round out the meal with with baby carrots and because it was her last time this year, juice boxes and chocolate chip muffins for a treat, in direct violation of the "suggested guidelines." But I figure we had already violated school policy by having a father participate, as the school handbook specifically tasks "mamas" with this not so small job (update to the 21st century, please, bc I know someone out there from our lovely school will read this!). I've been on the fence about this piece of school life all year, especially once Iris started attending too. The idea is to have each mother (and yeah, I know the reality is that it is the mamas, but c'mon, let's at least set the expectation for fatherly participation--which has happened quite a bit in our household) provide lunch for the children in your kid's classroom once a month. That's 25+ kids in Ruby's class, and in Iris's case, because she is in a smaller classroom, it's twice a month for about 15 kids. We don't have a cook, as some of the families clearly do, and I only farmed it out once when I felt the pressure of actually providing the dish that we had been assigned and I of course had no idea how to make it. It was, in short, a lot of cooking. But making lunch every day would have been a ton of work too, so I'm not sure the grass is greener. We made lots of soup and veggie mac and I occasionally tried to approximate what I had been assigned but I always worried that Ruby might feel the sting of sending food that was just a bit weird. By the end of the year, the school had recognized the cultural challenge and often assigned me things like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which ironically, I resisted sending because out of my own gringa paranoia, I didn't want to be responsible for sending some child into anaphylactic shock. It all worked out though, and both girls are better and more adventurous eaters for the exposure to others' cooking and I hope the other children's parents would say the same. But I'm glad for the break now and we'll see how a little summer school daily lunch-packing feels in comparison.

Cuadro!

2011-06-07T13:00:00.000-07:00

Ruby, our budding artist, showed her first painting (hence the cuadro! of the title) in a show. Her art studio, of which there are several branches in the ZMG, asked students to submit one of their paintings. Ruby chose her Monet, which isn't half bad for a four year old. The opening was held in Cafe Martinique, which aside from its lovely terraced dining area downstairs, also possesses some great space upstairs for just this kind of event.

Yes, we ditched Iris for this event too, as she has become a holy terror in the past few weeks and we wanted Ruby to feel the full glory of her first show. And honestly, Ruby deserves a medal for the many cheeks she has turned to Iris's smacking, hair-pulling, toy-taking and just general toddler style reign of terror. More on Iris later, as she, in addition to being a bit of a stinker, has also moved into a riotous linguistic phase which helps take the edge off her rapidly developing ego.

As you can see, it was a pretty swank affair, and I've gotta say, either the teachers do a fantastic job or there's a whole lot of artistic talent out there or both. And seeing the takes of kids ranging from three to fifteen or so on Van Gogh, Morrisseau, Monet, Warhol and a bunch of others was really pretty wonderful.

Not surprisingly, the highlight for Ruby was not all the praise from us or the glitz of the opening or seeing her work up on the wall, but the lollipop.

Miss fish

2011-06-02T09:12:00.000-07:00

We took a chance on a decrepit hotel in San Pancho last weekend. The surf is pretty rough there--I'm still digging sand out of my ears from a very short-lived venture into the waves and an equally short-lived confrontation with my own mortality, which I curtailed by heading for the pool and a beer to quell the adrenalin overload. Iris was absolutely terrified of the crashing surf and stayed well away, while Ruby ventured out for a little digging and wave tag but preferred the pool as well. In spite of the general state of decay around the joint and in our rooms, the pool itself was absolutely perfect for our purposes, with a few crabs for ambiance, a fantastic view, and pretty decent food at the little restaurant. The delightful company of lots of friends and their respective little ones, all of whom were staying in a house nearby made for two great afternoons floating around in the sun. Miss fish mastered the art of swimming to the bottom of the pool to fetch her little dollies, who now have swimmers' hair from all their time soaking in the chlorine. Both girls played so hard they almost made themselves sick, but they have of course recovered and are begging for a return trip soon.

GDLicious: Oh la la!

2011-06-01T14:23:00.000-07:00

A large Mexican family (extended version, of course) goes through a couple kilos of tortillas a day. No meal is complete without them, no matter the hour of the day, and most people will tell you they prefer the corn ones, which are indeed healthier. But as much as I love a steaming fresh tortilla, sometimes those Euro-peasant roots kick in and what I really want is a crusty, holey, yeasty baguette. Folks in this town eat a fair amount of bread, mostly the bolillos sold in the stores and out of baskets on street corners, and the larger supers have bakeries where the bread at least looks appetizing. However, most of it is made with the most extraordinarily refined flour, often with a large helping of lard or margarine to keep it from turning into a brick within the day. It took us a good half a year to find a not just good, but great bakery. We went out for a huge St. Patty's day dinner at Lula Bistro (the chef, Darren Walsh, is an Irishman) and they served little rolls that had us back a few weeks later to investigate their origins. I was happily shocked to learn they were not made in house, and that a mere citoyenne like myself would be able to get her hands on them at Oh la la! (Av. Sebastian Bach 2074). Of course, there's a Frenchman involved. In addition to some rather dangerous chocolate croissants, you will find the crustiest baguettes in town there, along with a very respectably chewy pain de campagne and whatever else they felt inspired to make that day. Bon appetit!

GDLicious: Dip de atun

2011-05-20T12:32:00.000-07:00

Once I got over my obsession with the salsa that comes with Juanito's roast chicken (Providencia between Labrador and Alberta, take out and delivery, tel. 33.1149.4005), I moved onto a new fixation, the chipotle tuna dip served with totopos at Santro Pez, also on Providencia but on the opposite side between Labrador and Virginia. The restaurant is really more of a watering hole. You ask for a drink and two or three always arrive, as the place thrives on specials and a very lengthy happy hour. The food's decent and not very expensive, with the quesadilla de camaron and the doradito de marlin being favorites in our house. There are better and cheaper fish taco places in town, but this place is a real restaurant rather than just a tent or a stall, and in their favor, they play truly decent music. No classic rock, no pop, just burning salsa most of the time. Anyway, to get back to the dip, the stuff here solved one of the mysteries of Mexican cooking for me. While Mexico was recently recognized as a world cuisine by the UN, and certainly deserves the honor when one thinks of regional cooking in Oaxaca or the Yucatan or a few other places, one walks into most grocery stores and is struck by the enormous variety of two products, to which entire sections of each store are devoted. First, you've got the salchicha section. What on earth do they do with all those hot dogs? I still haven't figured that one out yet. Second, the tuna section is usually pretty massive too, along with a whole variety of olives, pickled veggies, and other kinds of canned and often smoked seafood. Some of this you can chalk up to the Spanish influence, as throw together a plate of that stuff with some jamon serrano, a little cheese, some bread, and you're good to go for a light cena. And I haven't touched tuna in years, given the overfishing issues and the fact that they scare the daylights out of you about eating it when you're pregnant. In fact, I hadn't had any in so long that I didn't realize what the dip was made out of when I finally asked the waiter for the ingredients. It's not exactly a healthy recipe, but is it ever delicious with some chips or even better yet, the tostadas found in every little tienda or super too. All you need is a can of tuna, drained, some chipotle peppers (adobados), a ton of mayo, more than you would really think is reasonable or smart so that it takes on a more dippish rather than sandwich spreadish consistency, a squeeze of lime juice, and then whatever else you might want to throw in, like cilantro, to brighten up the flavor. Whip it into a consistent paste, chill, and then serve. Provecho!

Missing the swamp fan

2011-05-19T18:52:00.000-07:00

Hindsight is 20/20, and nothing could be a truer truism for that moment in the foreign service when you finally get all your stuff and start cursing for having given this or that away, or sent this or that box to storage. The cursing is not all self-directed, as there are often plenty of other people to blame along the way too, like those in charge of pulling or placing all this stuff in and out of storage somewhere in Maryland. I've gotten over the fact that we did not get our Christmas ornaments but did get somewhere in the ballpark of a couple hundred pounds of docs, pics, and the minutiae of the past that we really didn't want to see for a decade or so. Recently, I've been doing some belated mental self-flagellation for not having held on to a certain appliance that was indispensable at the height of the Ellensburg summer: the swamp fan. I have to admit, purchasing it was a serious leap of faith for a midwesterner who had never really cared for the humidity of southwestern Michigan as a child and spent most of my grad school summers in Pittsburgh holed up in the library, an air-conditioned cafe or office, or in my bedroom with the window unit cranking. The idea of simply blowing water into the air seemed pretty crazy, but lo and behold, it worked. And get this--I was at the fancy mall the other day, and they've essentially installed the equivalent of a grocery store produce section mister system for people. You walk under these little metal hoops and they squirt a fine mist out from time to time, which is refreshing but pretty short-lived in terms of providing relief, unless you plan to just stand under the jets. The heat index also explains why the mall that was formerly the nicest one in town still does at least a brisk pedestrian business, as it has central air. The heat is not unbearable, but it is enough to make people jockey over shaded parking spaces and hot enough to keep the kids inside most afternoons and hot enough to require some serious watering to keep the garden from turning to dust in the matter of a day or two. The one rainfall we had, heavy enough to fill our lidless recycling can with a good six inches of water, made me feel like the bubble boy the next day for what it did for the air quality. So while I'm not complaining (we have friends in Oman who are helping me keep a little perspective on the matter), I do kind of wish I hadn't ditched the swamp fan.

Baby Gaga

2011-05-18T09:47:00.000-07:00

This is what happens on weekend mornings while I sleep in (or try to anyway). It's a coffee and snack cup fueled dance party downstairs. And all of you who were at Old Jack's last weekend know where she gets it from, and yes, you should start inviting him to all the crazy concerts you go to for a good sideshow.

The cheese series

2011-05-10T17:22:00.000-07:00

Iris, who has recently approached near calm on the teething front, seems happily disposed to display the full set of choppers at the "cheese" command in front of the camera. Here are some before and after pictures displaying the effect of this simple and magical word on her demeanor. We start with some sisterly photos, with princess balloons, of course, in the first set. And for those of you in the FS, yes, I really do need to do something about those couches.

Now witness the magical effect of the word with Mugga, who braved all the hype of the US news media to make the journey here (and guess what, she didn't even hear a gunshot, let alone get caught in a firefight!). We had a lovely time between swimming at the club and staying out of the heat at our place and just generally enjoying the grandma magic that she knows so well how to turn on for our girls. They were completely enamored of her, to the point where Ruby's masterpiece pictured above, which could rival some very fine cave paintings in France, I believe, figured Mugga as the central stick figure.

Here's a little before and after during the horse show with Daddy. It's a good thing she doesn't sustain this grin, as it hurts my face just to make it for a few seconds.

And finally, we have "las hermosas," as they are frequently called, at home and enjoying themselves, with lovely smiles that morph with the first "cheese" and then into even more hilarious grins with a double dose of the "cheese" effect.

Hammock angel at Hacienda El Carmen

2011-05-08T19:43:00.000-07:00

We joined friends outside of town this Mother's Day afternoon at Hacienda El Carmen for a leisurely meal and some rambling around the grounds. We did a terrible thing and abandoned Iris with the babysitter at home, which did mean we actually sat through most of our meal and Mike was only called upon for some minor child-chasing with his fellow father, while I and my fellow mama killed the obligatory Mother's Day bottle of wine under a jacaranda tree in full bloom. It was a treat of a cloudy day out there, as full sun would have made for a scorcher. We didn't explore much of the interior, but the patio spaces abound and the greenery was nothing less than spectacular.

Ruby especially enjoyed the hammock under the mango tree. She's just a joy these days, whispering, "Mommy, I love you more than outer space" and other such hilarious endearments not only on Mother's Day but all days. She's pretty civilized too, about trips to the bathroom (which used to instill such terror in her), eating in a restaurant without causing a scene (which used to instill such terror in me), and just generally acting like a pretty lovely little human being. Iris, by the way, was no worse for wear for having been left behind, as she is rather enamored of the babysitter at the moment, and got in a nice three hour nap which made our abandonment of her seem all the more sensible.

And, since it was Mother's Day after all, a rare photograph of the elusive subject herself, who is usually behind the camera rather than being sought by its lens.

Nuevo Vallarta Workation: Day 2

2011-04-25T10:12:00.000-07:00

Recover from the night out before, which really only took two espressos and a lot of bacon (By the way, that was a great dinner at the Vista Grill if only for the view, although the food, drinks, and company were excellent as well). Back to the grind for a few hours, with a luxurious mid-morning nap as a think break on a tough section. Lunch buffet (can't imagine doing this to oneself for more than a couple of days--would take months to undo the damage). More writing. Give up late afternoon to go lounge on the beach for a couple of hours. Quick run, then yes, unbelievable, more food. Bad TV for the first time in days to top it off, as I was fried mentally. Quick pack up, heartwrenching conversation with M, who reported that when Irie went into her crib that night, she laid there and repeated "Mama home, Mama home" over and over as he closed the door, and then a good night's sleep in preparation for the potentially nightmarish drive home (which was in fact, a cakewalk in comparison to the drive down). Feeling productive and close to capping off that chapter, and refreshed mama-wise too.

Nuevo Vallarta Workation: Day 1

2011-04-23T08:47:00.000-07:00

Sleep, uninterrupted. Eat. Run, or well, truth be told, walk and run, on that glorious beach. Think, seriously, about how the heck to finish this bloody chapter that has been dogging me for so long. Massage. Eat again--buffets have come a long ways since the last time I was at an all-inclusive. Write like a maniac. Sinus-cleansing, bikini-malfunctioning body surfing session to make me feel like I am 23 again. Shower. Resist temptation to start drinking before dinner with a view and lovely people in PV. Short-lived attempt to stay out much later than I should have. Sleep again, knowing that at least the hangover will be ameliorated by the fact that I don't have to get up at any particular time.
Plan for Day 2? Less food, less booze, less company but more writing, more waves, more running, more missing M and the girls.

Water bug

2011-04-19T19:36:00.000-07:00

That deafening silence

2011-04-19T19:29:00.000-07:00

It seems to happen to most of us, the foreign service bloggers, whether officers or the spouses and partners of officers, at the moment when the chaos and novelty subsides and routine takes over, especially when you calculate in the kid factor. Let's face it, no matter where you live on the planet, dealing with a couple of little monkeys is largely the same drill of diapers and snacks and naps and oh phew they just went to bed but what a mound of dishes and laundry awaits us and so on and so forth, punctuated of course by the delight of seeing them learn to speak and swim and a multitude of other things in their generally hilarious, occasionally mortifying ways. The girls have finally settled into a happy routine with school and are flourishing in English and Spanish, in their relations with teachers and friends, and with all the benefits of what they learn there spilling over into their time at home (wow, both can actually pick up their own toys!). I've won what for me were the most pressing battles with same school, which were ultimately small but significant victories on matters of basic hygiene and safety--the first being get the freaking salmonella spreading turtles out of the babies' rooms as my child has already had parasites twice and we really don't need a round of anything more serious at this point, with the second being stop feeding those same babies popcorn before I send the wrath of the entire American Pediatric Association on choking hazards for children under three their way. No serious issues with Ruby's room for a while, much to their credit. And as for myself, finally slipping into that routine after so much work in the house and in getting the girls settled and dealing with this and that other detail for the first six months here has meant the possibility, or inevitability, of returning to that much loathed but necessarily doable project, the diss. So the fact that I'm not dinking around in blogolandia is a good sign in many ways. In all honesty, I'm also following a bit of motherly advice too, which is that if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all. Because at that very moment when things settle down into some sort of daily normalcy, many of us out there also begin to realize, or perhaps just admit and acknowledge, that the culture surrounding us is, well, rather annoying or insane or simply incomprehensible. Such rhythms have been well documented by those with more experience than myself in globe-trotting every couple of years, and there are more stages to come, much like those of grieving or the cycles through which relationships pass. This moment is the one when the honeymoon ends and reality sets in--more on what that all means when Chapter 4, or at least a passable draft of it, has been sent northward to a patient and hopefully merciful reader.

Spring festival in motion

2011-03-18T10:32:00.000-07:00

That's my girl, heading straight for mama. She had heard me being interviewed earlier by one of the kids on the microphone about what the sun does for us--a little on the spot Spanish mortification for me--and had burst into tears down at the other end of the court. So she knew where I was as the parade set out in rather chaotic fashion. We rescued her carrito and made a couple more rounds before hanging out to wait for the promised treats of paletas.

Spring festival

2011-03-18T10:19:00.000-07:00

Today was Irie's moment in the sun as the babies did their annual spring festival parade. Good thing a neighbor and friend had clued me into the fact that this was an event requiring some serious Martha-ish investment of time and tissue paper. We were squarely in the middle of the costume and decorated wagon/trike competition, neither lame nor over the top, which was a good place to be as the sometimes clueless expat mom. Poor Rub missed the whole affair, after an episode of projectile vomiting yesterday, but that was probably just as well, as I had apparently not gotten the message that her class was dressing up as well, if only to observe the babies in action. That could have been a serious motherly misstep on my part.

Irie is ever the fashionista with the rakish tilt of her hat, or accessorizing with a berry popsicle while hanging with her crew. This was only the beginning of the sugar fest, as cake awaited them back in the classroom for someone's birthday. I ducked out of the sure to come sugar-induced chaos to pick up some saltines and soda for Rub, who is feeling much better, and spotted one of these glorious trees on the way back to the car. They are blooming everywhere in the city, but I can't figure out if they are mimosas or the famous jacarandas of GDL, or something altogether different. Happy spring!

Rain dance

2011-03-15T21:07:00.000-07:00

With clouds gathering on the horizon, accompanied by some unexpected rolls of thunder this afternoon, Ruby thought it appropriate to dig out her rain suit and rubber boots in preparation for the coming rainy season. In spite of some rain-inciting arabesques, we did not get even a drop, although I felt a few sprinkles while out watering the garden later that evening. Iris joined in by donning her hoody. It will rain soon enough, judging from the springtime signs of trees flowering like crazy all over town and the anticipation shown by the ants, mosquitos and other bichos who are now showing up in the house with greater frequency. I'm not sure whether to view this change in season with joy or trepidation, but certainly everything could use a good wash and hopefully the pollution levels will decline a bit with the rain too. Ruby, having grown up in Ellensburg with its paltry levels of rainfall in comparison to what one usually expects of the Pacific Northwest, will have to be convinced that rain is not a cataclysmic event. A single springtime in DC was not enough to divest her of that notion but I think what we are about to experience will do the trick with some coaxing from us.

The seven month itch

2011-03-09T18:55:00.000-08:00

You know you are well-suited for the foreign service when you've been somewhere for all of seven months and you are practically salivating for a glimpse of the next bid list. It's just a list, but it's a list of the most tantalizing and terrifying possibilities, and it governs the two to three year cycles of life in the service. I've got an even worse case of the itch than most probably get, as Mexico and I have a bit of a history, and while it hasn't been a complete disaster, let's just say I never felt the flutter in my heart that some feel for this country.
I didn't really want to do my dissertation research here, but it made sense. Fate had conspired to force me in that direction, what with the untimely loss of a much beloved advisor who might have kept me working somewhere in the Andes and the clear-headed advice of the new advisor (also now much beloved, may he forgive me for my horrifyingly slow progress), who was smart enough to know that Mexico was really the only option for someone wanting to do a historical project on tourism, as his own ex-patria wouldn't let me near the necessary docs. So I ended up here, in Mexico City, which I did learn to love for its megalopolis-ishness, and in Quintana Roo, which has its charms but lacks many as well, and now in Guadalajara. And everywhere I go in Mexico, I find myself vaguely annoyed not so much for the actual defects of this country, which does indeed offer much in terms of its physical beauty, its architectural history, its cultural diversity, its culinary delights but rather for what it is not.
My ambivalence about my current country of residence might just be a question of nostalgia for Ecuador with a taste of Colombia, Peru and Bolivia thrown in for good measure, the terraced mountain sides, the garlic, cilantro, sweat and diesel infused odor of a switch-backing bus ride, the sharp citric burst of that first bite of ceviche made that afternoon on the beach or in a favorite dive in Quito which is probably no longer even there, for the canelazo carts serving stiff but warm shots of booze at 6 in the morning or at a late night festival, for the peasants who were burning tires on the Panamerican highway at a moment that now with hindsight was the birthing of the indigenous movement that has recently had presidents and multinational oil corporations on the run. And maybe that nostalgia is just that, the fond recollections for the time and place in which I more or less became the person who I am now, politically, emotionally, and intellectually.
We're hoping for a posting somewhere in South America next time around, and I might end up horribly disappointed. The early/mid 1990s were a long time ago, and those places for which I harbor such fondness have changed a ton, and let's face it, living somewhere with the kids is a rather different endeavor than the footloose travels of my twenties. But bring on that bid list--we can't wait to obsess, along with hundreds of other foreign service families who love and dread the "season" as it's called among those in the biz.

Things to love about Mexico: Percheros

2011-03-01T12:33:00.000-08:00

Walk into any of the more upscale restaurants in this town and the waiter will bring a purse rack, a sort of mini version of a coat rack, to your table, even before he hands you the menu or offers you a drink. Their ubiquity must owe something to the metal working done in and around Tonala nearby. The custom is also likely the product of the culture of conspicuous consumption in Guadalajara, where the gente bien would not dream of tossing their very expensive purses on the floor or hanging them over the back of a chair. The perchero ultimately facilitates the see and be seen piece of Guadalajara's tremendous dining scene. I'll treat on a tequilito for the first GDLer to name the place pictured here.

First delivery from Tierra Santa

2011-02-23T09:38:00.000-08:00

It's not easy, but not impossible, to find organic food in GDL. The health food stores are a loss, as they mostly stock large quantities of strange sesame and amaranth snacks but not a lot of real food, along with many supplements that one should be truly wary of trying, as there's virtually no regulation of such stuff here. Purorganiko stocks a larger variety of actual food, much of it imported and therefore sold at rather astronomical prices (for the consulate crowd, it just makes more economical sense to order most of this stuff online). The dry goods selection is decent and they do receive produce on Fridays, although the variety is limited. You can often find better produce, especially lettuce, celery, carrots and occasionally some other things at Costco.
I had heard through the grapevine that someone was delivering CSA boxes of organic produce in town. It took me a while to track down the website of Tierra Santa, and I started calling and emailing them just after Christmas, to no avail. After a couple a weeks, I went back to the friend of the friend who had sent me their website and she forwarded a bulletin with some different phone numbers and emails. After further persistence, I finally got a response. It took another two weeks to get them to actually set up the deal, but we finally got our first delivery yesterday. They are very nice and dedicated, but apparently lacking in some business sense. The poor guy told me that they had expanded from 20 clients to 80 in the past few months, and I just kept thinking that if it took me a good month and a half to finally make this happen, how many clients had they lost in the meantime? Anyway, we were very excited to get the box of goodies, and here's the breakdown of what we received:
Lots of citrus: limes, lemons, grapefruit and oranges
Two boxes of lettuce, one mixed and then one labeled spinach but more likely arugula
avocadoes
zucchini
onions
tomatoes
bananas
plain yogurt
two dozen eggs
tortillas
I'm not sure how reliable the certification of everything is, but they are certainly trying to provide legitimately organic or close to organic stuff, and to have all this delivered to my house for about US$35, well, I can't complain. We were hoping for a chicken, but they are apparently hard to get a hold of right now because of the cold spell in northern Mexico, and we might add some cheese or some other optional goodies from time to time. Each week they send out a list with additional items that you can choose for that delivery. If you're local and interested in trying it out, there's a 500 peso membership and then a 250 peso deposit to get things rolling. After that, you can make arrangements to either pay when they deliver or make a deposit at Banamex to cover your box each week. Try this number if you'd like to sign up (and if that doesn't work-let me know and I can dig up some others): 33.1111.0276.

Well worth the 50 pesos

2011-02-21T13:05:00.000-08:00

I mean the caterpillars were worth the 50 pesos, not the Cantarito that I was waiting for at the little bar. (Recipe: Tequila, orange, lime and grapefruit slices and a dash of grapefruit soda over ice). Bet most of you can guess which tequila house we were at on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon. No tours or tasting for us this time in Tequila, which is about 45 minutes out of GDL, as we spent most of the day chasing the girls. The best find was a playset tucked in a bougainvillea-covered courtyard.

Mas playa!

2011-02-18T09:54:00.000-08:00

Be free, Irie, be free! Notice the beginning of a gallop at the end, which is now her preferred mode of locomotion whenever there's room to move.

Ruby's snorkeling trick, which if it were just audio, might sound more like a heavy breathing prank phone call.

Our beautiful friend Robyn, entertaining Iris and demonstrating her infinite patience with our sometimes demanding kids.

Playa!

2011-02-17T10:10:00.000-08:00

Five glorious days in Nuevo Vallarta were just the ticket for a little mid-winter break from the routine of work and school. Much missed and vitamin D-deprived friends joined us from Portland. There were hours of bocce and beer and playing in the sand on the beach. Ruby, who has clearly inherited the waterbug gene from my side of the family, had to be periodically dragged from the pool to eat and rest and let her pruney little feet dry out a bit (video of Miss Fishiness to come). The guys could barely get through a game without a little unsolicited advice or outright intervention from the local Canadian Italian community. Perfect weather, with a nice breeze in the afternoons off the water, and whale tails and spouts spotted most evenings from our patio overlooking the bay. Can't wait to get back down there--any takers?

Things to love about Mexico: Beer

2011-01-20T18:35:00.000-08:00

Although I was much more of a wino in the PNW, as who can resist all those rich and stinky Washington cabs, not to mention the smoother Oregon pinot noirs and all the other reds in between, I do also miss the good beer en el norte. As for Mexico, well, it's still nearly virgin territory as far as microbrews are concerned, although I get the sense that some folks, especially west coasters in places like Baja California (mmmm--go figure), are getting into the hops and whatnot. Mexican beer tends to be lighter lagers and pilsners and the dark ones hardly pass muster for those accustomed to drinking the flavorful petroleum produced by U.S. microbreweries. But what is marvelous about Mexican beer is the myriad ways in which it is served--cheladas, micheladas, and around here, rusas, pictured above--add spice and ice and a bit of salt to the brew. Micheladas usually involve tomato juice, lime and some mix of chile and/or maybe a salty sauce like soy, Maggi's, worcestershire or tamarind pulp. In some parts of Mexico, a chelada will get you a variation of that, or in others, simply lime juice and a salted rim. I think the ice is what gives pause to most gringos for its seeming sacrilege, although once you try it, you realize that it really is refreshing and with such light beer anyway, what's wrong with it being watered down a little further? A chelada around here is a rusa, which happens to be my standard. As for the beer of choice for that chelada or rusa or whatever it might be called, I am generally a Pacifico kind of gal, although I like Indio and Bohemia just fine. Tecate, well, it just seems a bit too much like Bud and Negra Modelo and Dos XX remind me too much of a Tex-Mex restaurant I waited tables in ages ago (you Portlanders know which one!). Salud!

Things to love about Mexico: Nearly free pilates

2011-01-12T08:56:00.000-08:00

Not everything in Mexico is cheap, as many goods are still imported and in spite of NAFTA, the import taxes plus the IVA (a value added tax of 16%) make many purchases painful (toys, clothes, appliances, many imported food items, etc.). Gyms tend to work on exclusivity, in a country-clubish sort of way, with a sometimes significant fee paid up front and then not so cheap monthly dues to keep the riffraff out. The last time I belonged to a gym was while doing my research in Cancun, and I believe I talked them into halving the initial fee to a couple of hundred bucks and then paid a good hundred or so per month (I was pregnant and not about to work out outside in July there with temps in the 90s with matching humidity, so give me a break on the self-indulgence). So imagine my delight when I found a neighborhood pilates reformer studio, meaning the fancy machines not just mat work, where I can take a month of classes, five days a week, for about a hundred bucks. I just checked the Arlington pilates studio where some friends and I contemplated trying it out while the hubbies were in DC for training, only to find that a similar package of classes would run close to two Gs. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to walk tomorrow after today's class, but I think that's what it's going to take to get me back in shape, with the added benefit of not paying something like a house mortgage to attain such a goal.

Feliz cumple, Ruby!

2011-01-10T12:28:00.000-08:00

It's been days of celebration for Ruby's birthday this year. We started with presents before breakfast, unwrapped at the speed of light and a special chicken dinner from Juanito's, one of our favorite local joints on her actual birthday. Iris was especially impressed with a crucial gift, some new undies, as the old ones had been provoking many a wedgie because they were too small. We called her princess of underwear for the rest of the morning.

A pizza party with friends and neighbors followed the next day, which is a lovely idea for a party but next time, we'll be ordering the pizzas, not making them by hand (live and learn, Martha--sometimes it's just better to get takeout). The girls went back to school today and it was Ruby's turn for lonche, which means we bring food for all the kids in her class. This happens about once a month, and as it was also her birthday lunch, we made chicken soup per her request and lots of pinkalicious cupcakes. They sang her many songs and each child gave her a birthday hug and some sort of wish or thing I like about you comment. And then they all took turns asking her about her favorite color, her favorite food, her favorite toy, and so on and so forth, and in spite of the stage fright, she even managed to answer mostly in Spanish. It made me love the school at least for today, in spite of all my doubts about it at other moments.

So she is now officially four and taking it very seriously, as four-year olds do not behave as three year-olds do, let alone two-year olds do. She led Iris into school with smiles this morning (and it worked--Iris didn't even blink when snatched from my arms!) and has made many a wise decision in the past few days. We're seeing far, far fewer tantrums and lots of pretty sensible behavior recently, although Iris seems primed to take over the toddler tantrum routine even as I write. And although it's been a long ride since we left Ellensburg, with lots of stress and change, what a pleasure to see Ruby really thriving here. Happy fourth, mi hija!

This is Irie

2011-01-03T18:30:00.000-08:00

This is Irie, as we see her from the vistas of grown up land. She's always reaching, inquisitive, affectionate and demanding. The nickname originated from her sis, but has been embraced and appropriated by Iris herself, who runs the halls announcing "Irieeeeee, Irieeee." If she's giving you the gesture seen here, the most common utterances accompanying it are "up-pi" for up please, or the eternal favorite, "moh," meaning more of whatever you may have in your hand, up your sleeve, or on your mind. She'll take it all, as what she really wants is just more of life in general. Now if only she would sleep a little better....

Politically incorrect pageant

2010-12-23T14:45:00.000-08:00

Every school holds a posada for Christmas, which typically involves a pageant. Some schools are more traditional (read religious) in their themes. Our school is a Montessori, which makes it a bit of an outlier in terms of the Mexican educational system and in keeping with their place among the Catholic schools, they chose a secular theme, "it's a small world." You can easily imagine the third-graders doing a samba for Brazil and the fifth-graders singing a classic cowboy tune and some Russian dancers by another grade and so on and so forth. Ruby's class was China. I wasn't too concerned when the kids came out in red shirts (without any irony there either--it was just holiday spirit) and conical hats a la your typical Chinese peasant. The song, written in the 1930s (but perhaps recorded a couple of decades later) was popularized by Cri-Cri, a famous Mexican crooner of children's tunes. The lyrics, at least the ones in Spanish, tell the story of a Chinaman, (well--let's be honest, a little Chinaman) who is trapped on the side of a pot or vase. It would appear (as I cannot figure out the Chinese parts of the original lyrics) that he mouthed off to authority and therefore remained trapped in or on the jar for all of eternity. The song does not appear to be too problematic per se. Imagine my mortification when what had begun as an effort to teach tolerance and diversity turned into an exercise in racism. When the kids got to the Chinese lyrics, they squinted up their eyes, stuck out their top front teeth, and did their best imitation of a kung fu movie. Upon closer inspection, I realized that some of the parents had even painted slant eyes on their kids. I suspect I was perhaps the only parent there to be alarmed at the message too. And sadly, it's a nice school, so the fact that they did something so lacking in taste makes it all the more painful when otherwise, they at least try to do a decent job of teaching the children values along with their letters, etc. When Mike watched the video later that day, he noted how easy it is to teach racism. Ay, Mexico lindo--you've come so far but you've got a long ways to go, baby.

El chinito estampado
en un gran jarrón
fue acusado de decir:
¡Yan -tse - amo - oua - ting - i
pong - chong - kí.
El chinito fue llevado
ante un mandarín
y al llegar le dijo así:
¡Yan -tse - amo - oua - ting - i
pong - chong - kí.

El chinito no quería
ya vivir en el jarrón
pues estaba dibujado
en las garras de un dragón.

El chinito fué obligado
a volver allí
pero antes dijo así:
¡Yan -tse - amo - oua - ting - i
pong - chong - kí!
¡mow- sang - li...¡¡kóu kao!!
Cierto día que pasaba
el emperador
el chinito le gritó:
¡Yan -tse - amo - oua - ting - i
yan - CHONG - CHONG!

Cien puñales apuntaron
a su corazón
pero el pidió perdón:
Yan tse amo oua ting i pong
chang chung fong.

El monarca con clemencia
a sus guardias ordenó
-¡Le concedo la existencia
más no sale del jarrón!

Por mil años el chinito
se quedo allí
y jamás volvio a decir así:
¡Yan - tse - amo - oua - ting - i
pong - chong - kí!.
Hai - lák - ¡Ni sei lok sei lok!

Ruby getting into the holiday spirit

2010-12-22T06:14:00.000-08:00

Ruby's been getting a lot of practice with the pinatas at the numerous birthday parties so far this year. At the consulate posada, you could tell she'd been improving her techniques as she worked out some pre-holiday frustrations with the stick.

Ticklefest

2010-12-22T05:52:00.000-08:00

Another one for the baby lovers. That laughter must be one of the best sounds in the whole world.

Treasure from Tonala

2010-12-21T19:08:00.000-08:00

A friend and I have made a couple of runs out to Tonala in the last week for holiday shopping and general hooky-playing before the kids go on vacation (and I go temporarily insane). Today's mission was a metal tree that she had been obsessing about, having seen one at someone's house here in GDL. It took two trips to find them, but one look and I understood. Had to get one myself and both the girls and even Daddy-o oohed and ahhed appreciatively. No one came home with the metal Elvis, but I couldn't resist the picture.

Guess who came to the posada?

2010-12-06T08:17:00.000-08:00

We attended the consulate posada on Saturday at a lovely little retreat with horse rides for the kids and a real playground not built over cement, which is key in these parts. After lots of great food and drink, we were in the midst of pinata-smashing when Santa appeared. He was patient and sweet, albeit a little over-dressed in this clime. Ruby was smitten and could not for the life of her tell him what she wanted, while Iris immediately screeched upon approach. We couldn't even get her near the poor guy, let alone on his lap for a pic with her sibling. She recovered quickly once the treat bags were doled out, however.

Anxiously awaiting heirlooms

2010-12-06T08:01:00.000-08:00

One of the foundations of Mexican cuisine is the tomato. And Mexico grows a large share of the tomatoes consumed in the U.S. as well. The state of Sinaloa's license plate sports a tomato as testimony to the fruit's commercial significance, but perhaps that's just because a meth lab would be in poor taste. Sadly, as Mexican agriculture has gone the way of agro-industry, the varieties of tomatoes available here have gone the way of those mealy, flavorless hybrids that we complain about in our grocery stores up north.

Add a gardenless summer in DC, where the farmers' markets, while nice, made us homesick for our own messy but productive garden back in eburg and the glorious and mostly organic produce available at such markets all year round in the PNW and I couldn't resist the year-round growing season here. My first attempts at some urban container gardening were fraught with mishaps. It was too hot to start lettuce and bok choy and other fall crops, so it all bolted. Whatever was left was absolutely devoured by all sorts of bugs in our tiny backyard as it was till the rainy season and they were out in force. Slugs and some kind of caterpillar were the worst offenders. So I relocated everything up and away from the bichos once the weather had cooled a bit and aside from a nasty round of whiteflies which are hopefully under control now with a homemade oil soap remedy, we look like we are in business. The tomatoes are setting, we're sowing a second round of greens, and I also found some lemongrass plants here through our local vivero, which are nearly ready to harvest for the occasional Thai or Vietnamese dish. The new year should bring some tasty insalata caprese!

GDLicious: Cocina 88

2010-12-04T07:07:00.000-08:00

We lingered at Cocina 88 last night with friends, first over mojitos, then over seafood and steak and lovely desserts. As usual for us gringos, we were a tad on the early side, so the place, which is set in a beautifully restored mansion downtown, was on the empty side when we first arrived. Hours later, the place had filled up with families and couples and more than a few refugees from the FIL, Guadalajara's annual book fair, which brings thousands of writers, book buyers, and book lovers to town. We were spoiled by our early arrival, as the owners, Gustavo and Enrique, were able to dote on us before the rush. We toured the day's catch with Gustavo, and later, Enrique talked us through the menu, suggesting the ceviche and several fish dishes. The ceviche, made by their Peruvian chef, was a citric sensation and we would return for that alone. Add the lovely company of our friends and the attentive service and it was an evening worth repeating some time soon.

Things to love about Mexico: Affordable medical care

2010-12-02T14:00:00.000-08:00

I'll get to the crazy photo in a minute, which is the downside of the medical scene here. We're suffering through our first round of sinus and not so first round of ear infections for the littlest of us, which is not surprising, given that it's cold and flu season here. Of course, the germs are aided by Guadalajara's abysmal ranking in terms of air pollution these days, and locals would also blame the cold and dry climate. I'll concede it's dry this time of year, but as for the cold, I'm still waiting for it, even as the thermometer dips to a bracing low 80s during the day. Anyway, I've spent a fair amount of time in various doctors' offices lately and it's been a pleasure to experience a very different kind of medical economy after years of living in a town that suffered from a severe shortage of medical practitioners, on top of all the usual problems of American health care, like inflated costs and gatekeeper insurers, etc., etc. We very much appreciated our doctors, but they were overburdened and facing tremendous pressures from the client load, the malpractice insurance, and again, all the usual woes of the American health system. So wow, what a breath of fresh air to spend a leisurely half an hour or more with the pediatrician for the whopping sum of about $40 (and he's on the pricey end of things), or to waltz into the office of an ENT specialist after calling for an appointment that very morning. The latter visit, which included some very interesting procedures on my nose that I shall not detail here, set me back a whopping $45, and would have easily run upwards of $200 after waiting weeks for an appointment in the U.S. These docs are all U.S. trained, keep up on the latest research and practices through their connections in the U.S., speak lovely English, which is very nice when you are sick or dealing with screaming sick children, and are apparently able to actually take the time to speak with their patients.

So what's the downside? Well, it's no small irony, given that so many Americans seek to buy cheaper prescription medications here, that the real problem is with those very same prescription drugs. There is a huge contraband market here in pharmaceuticals, some of which are poorly manufactured, some of which is expired, and some of which should not be sold without a prescription but is nonetheless available if you know where to look. Mike was invited to witness the public burning of a huge cache of confiscated pharmaceuticals, seen in the photo above. Here's to hoping that our current round of antibiotics are the real thing (and more later on the porqueria surrounding the recent implementation of a law requiring a prescription for antibiotics).

Feria del Maestros del Arte

2010-11-28T10:22:00.000-08:00

As part of the hunt for xmas ornaments, Ruby and I took a drive to Lake Chapala, where they hold an annual art fair on the yacht club grounds. There were weavings from Oaxaca, paper art, loads of just astonishingly gorgeous ceramics, which Jalisco is renowned for, Huichol beadwork, paper mache, and many other forms of artesania. We dined at a lakeshore seafood joint (but not on fish from the lake, which would surely kill you, now if not later) and generally enjoyed the gorgeous weather and views.

Just call me Martha

2010-11-28T08:51:00.000-08:00

Once it sunk in that our Christmas ornaments would not emerge out of the chaos of our HHE (household effects for those of you not living the vida loca of the foreign service), I entered a period of denial for a while. And then it was November, and then it was Thanksgiving, and then it was time to panic. So Ruby and I have been combing the art fairs and markets for ornaments (and scored quite a few) but I also felt compelled to try my hand a remedying the situation at home too. I found these little sequin appliques in the downtown merceria district (all things related to sewing, knitting, etc.) and then just did a little felt backing for them to augment our growing ornament collection. A word to the wise--glue guns are very dangerous, especially in the hands of a crafting amateur!

Let's talk about animals

2010-11-12T10:41:00.000-08:00

Catrinas

2010-11-08T09:36:00.000-08:00

On the Day of the Dead, after a tasty breakfast at Cafeto (salsa poblana to die for, no pun intended on such a day), we took Ruby downtown to see the catrinas. The Day of the Dead appears to be a more private affair here than in Mexico City, where public altars abound, but we did find a beautiful one dedicated to journalists at the Museo del Periodismo. Mexico has recently earned the ignominious honor of being perhaps the most dangerous country in the world for journalists to practice their craft, so there was more than the usual poignancy here due to Mexico's current paroxysm of violence.

When in need of a little extra oxygen...

2010-11-06T07:53:00.000-07:00

...take a walk in Parque Colomos. This is our neighborhood park, just a few blocks away. There is an entrance fee, a whopping four pesos, that goes to maintain this beautiful green space (to pay the gardeners who are responsible for its half-wild, half-manicured look, along with the bike cops who make it very safe). And given Guadalajara's pollution levels, which have worsened dramatically in recent years, I'm not entirely kidding about the oxygen. You must stay on the trails, as it's an ecological reserve as well. On the weekends, families mingle with joggers with most of the former headed for the horse rides and Japanese garden with its overfed turtle and koi population, while the latter hit the trails. The hills, plus the altitude here of about 3000 meters, make the running tougher than one at first imagines but the refreshing scent of the pines and eucalyptus put a little pep in your step too.

Domingos de via recreativa

2010-11-02T15:23:00.000-07:00

On Sunday mornings, Guadalajara shuts down traffic on two major avenues downtown so that its citizens can stretch their legs on foot or on wheels. Iris and I cruised with the stroller, while Ruby tested her treads and Mike worked his. It's not a bad workout, if you figure it's more like interval training than a sustained run. This past Sunday's ride was punctuated by catrinas positioned along Avenida Vallarta in honor of the Day of the Dead.

Arachnaphobia!

2010-11-01T08:56:00.000-07:00

We found and remorselessly killed our first black widows on Halloween, of all days. A mama and her little man had made a home behind a pot on our patio, all too near to Chucho's bed. I confess the size of the mama, with a jelly-bean-sized abdomen, took me aback, until I heard just how huge they can get later that night at a trick-or-treating gig. Ours was apparently quite puny, I now understand. Much to my chagrin, keeping them and all the other bichos at bay seems to necessitate dousing at least the entryways with a bit of poison now and again. Ugh.

Una hada muy bonita!

2010-10-30T11:21:00.000-07:00

Mexicans have taken to celebrating Halloween in recent years and Ruby's school was no exception. As for candy, well, the take was impressive, as Mexicans are also very indulgent with their kids in the arena of sweets. Ruby did indeed make for a very pretty fairy and came home exhausted by the excitement and sugar high, and that was just the first day of four of Halloween-related festivities.

In the zone

2010-10-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

That glazed look in their eyes is the result of cable after a two month hiatus. Even little Iris, who at her age, should have better things to do, followed her sister's example and plugged right in to the 'toons. And given that we were still drowning in boxes, one of which had also contained the TV, I didn't feel guilty in the least since it bought me a little time to unpack.

Things to love about Mexico: Cheap valet parking

2010-10-25T09:18:00.000-07:00

After dealing with the financially painful parking scene in Seattle on our various trips for cultural and culinary refueling from the other side of the mountains for many years, it's just fabulous to pull up to a busy restaurant in GDL on a Friday or Saturday night, or for that matter, breakfast on the weekend, hand over the keys, and sail right in to eat, all for the whopping sum of anywhere between two and three bucks a pop. That's living large south of the border (and they actually bring your car back too!).

GDLicious: latina i and Anita li

2010-10-24T08:45:00.000-07:00

Last night we took a drive down by the railroad tracks on Inglaterra, where a couple of restaurants with just the right dose of west coast kitsch and fusion sabor have taken the food scene by storm here in Guadalajara. We took a table upstairs at Latina i with a view of the piggies (scroll through the photos to find them) behind the bar and sipped a "negrony" and some delightful kiwi vodka concoction, accompanied by spring rolls with a kicking chile verde peanut sauce and some really fabulous cachos, or scallops, also with a divine sauce, before moving on to the sister restaurant down the block. Anita li is a little more upscale, a little flashier, with lots of crystal chandeliers and decor by lolo!. There, while Mike inhaled an espresso and a creme de vainilla, I headed straight for one of their very popular entrees, the flauta del mar, which was delicately doused with simply one of the best green salsas I've ever had the pleasure of trying, made on this occasion with chile guero and avocado. Aside from the refreshingly unstuffy ambiance, what I really loved was the vodka maracuya. Passionfruit is one of those flavors that always transports me back to my first encounter with Latin America, some (gulp) nearly twenty years ago, where the juice was served at nearly every little family restaurant and cafe in Ecuador. We'll go back (to both the restaurants and South America) as soon as appetite and opportunity combine.

Trash and treasure at El Trocadero

2010-10-17T19:35:00.000-07:00

I took a break from unpacking our junk to look at what kind of trash and treasure the local tianguis, or market, known as El Trocadero, had to offer this fine Sunday afternoon. Costume jewelry, antique metalwork, Hot Wheels and Barbies, angels and skeletons, old movie posters and the occasional box of puppies lined the sidewalks of a park nestled inside Av. Mexico. After the last two weeks' confrontation with our material existence, I was, needless to say, just looking.

What a week!

2010-10-07T09:48:00.000-07:00

Our HHE came Monday, Iris suffered her first bout of Moctezuma's revenge which required the full ped/lab/pharmacy routine in the midst of the movers coming, I made lunch for 25 kids at Ruby's school today, and they decided to paint our entire house, after our stuff came of course, starting next week. Add in a couple of cable guys, a nervous dog (who did calm down once his favorite bed emerged from a box), and some wrecked antiques, and you can tell it's been a load of fun. The girls are thrilled, however, as the stash of toys that we've had with us for the last six months had grown rather stale and every box reveals new/old wonders. Iris is now sleeping well in a real crib for the first time in several months and Ruby, who has spent the last few days riding her purple bike dressed in a matching fairy costume, wings and all, collapses with relief into her fortress bed at night. I can almost see the floor in the living room, our kitchen is nearly unpacked, and I'm awfully happy to have more than two or three pairs of shoes to choose from each day. If only I could find the Christmas ornaments, but there are still boxes to be unpacked, and therefore, still hope on that front.

Hilarious posting: Signs you might be in the foreign service

2010-10-01T09:16:00.000-07:00

Check out this very funny posting "Signs you might be in the foreign service" on Beyond the cornfields, another foreign service spouse blog. We were fortunate to not have nearly as much to contend with vaccination wise here, although this did remind me the girls are probably due for some more shots soon.

Things to love about Mexico: Going out for breakfast

2010-09-30T05:29:00.000-07:00

And preferably with a crew of colleagues or friends. Guadalajara runs on a more traditional schedule than Mexico City or northern cities like Monterrey. Here, much of the day's business begins at breakfast meetings around 10:00, when the city's restaurants fill up and it can be hard to get a table without a reservation. On Fridays, "las damas que desayunan," the equivalent of "ladies who lunch" make the competition for a table even tougher. I passed by one of the popular restaurants in our neighborhood, Cafe Barra, on a Friday morning and had to laugh at the sea of senoras y mamas escaping domestic tedium. Tomorrow, I plan to join them with a few gal pals of my own to caffeinate, chow down on chilaquiles and discuss the insanity of three year olds.

Heard on the radio this morning

2010-09-28T12:28:00.000-07:00

"Be sure to bring a hat, wear sunscreen, eat a nutritious breakfast, and do not carry sticks, pointed objects, or stones." The Universidad de Guadalajara, Mexico's second largest public university, is organizing a protest tomorrow morning of its students to demonstrate against the governor's refusal to release certain funds that the U's administration insists they were promised. The conflict has subsumed the media in recent weeks, in part because the students can, and probably will, bring the city to a standstill tomorrow. Here's hoping for a huge and peaceful march.

An ode to Mexico City

2010-09-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

CD. DE MÉXICO, video documental from EARRANGOIZ on Vimeo.

Things to love about Mexico: Bookstores

2010-09-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

The old-fashioned, snotty, substantive ones that stock more than just the pop garbage filling up the big "B" chains en el norte. Not that there's anything wrong with a good pulp novel now and again, but the overall quality of the selection in those places has really gone downhill, and it's virtually impossible, outside of the occasional university bookstore and a few institutions like Powell's, to be able to browse through academic books. I spent the morning at Libreria Gandhi and the Fondo de Cultura Economica, remembering why I used to love bookstores. These stores are found all over Mexico, and while their organization, often by editorial (publisher) rather than by subject, can be a bit frustrating, they are marvels of the cultured world found here in Mexico. I'm off to read my first Mario Bellatin novelita (he's apparently all the rage in literary circles here).

Hairdo!

2010-09-26T19:55:00.000-07:00

When we moved to DC, Ruby went through a couple of tough weeks not long after we arrived. True to form, the temper tantrums and three going on thirteenish behavior kicked in two weeks into the move to GDL. She's coming out of it, and has been justly rewarded with things like the bungee jumping seen previously, and this past weekend, a trip to the locals kids' hair salon, where they specialize in fancy peinados for birthday parties and the like. The stylist balked a little at the hipster bangs, but once her hair is down again, she will not look remotely like a boy. The trick will be convincing her that she cannot live a la Bo Derek without her hair falling out or turning to dreads, but that's a conversation we will save for another day with her.

Ruby's faves so far

2010-09-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

Ruby has taken to life in Guadalajara with her usual aplomb. Here she is in the midst of two of her favorite activities so far, the bungee jumping at our fancy mall, and then on a carriage ride through downtown. Today Mexico, tomorrow the world!

Date night downtown

2010-09-18T11:42:00.000-07:00

We had more or less given up on date night in Ellensburg, as how many times can one really go to the Valley Cafe (as much as we loved it and miss the spicy shrimp!), but first DC and now GDL have given us some inspiration. Last night's venture included a visit to the ex-convento de Carmen, downtown GDL, for an exhibit featuring artists from the state of Jalisco and their works in honor of Mexico's bicentennial. It's hard to say what was better, the art or the gorgeous architecture. Then we noshed at il Diavolo, a very popular pizza and salad joint, at the almost respectable dinner hour of 8:30 or 9 (GDLers don't eat until after 9 usually, and sometimes don't even order until 11 or midnight when they go out) before turning in to face Ruby at 5 this morning.

Iris on the move

2010-09-17T14:51:00.000-07:00

Toro, toro!

2010-09-14T13:44:00.000-07:00

GDL is more a charro town (rodeo to us nortenos) but apparently the locals enjoy other forms of animal abuse like bull-fighting. As you can gather, I'm not a fan of either, although I do admire the skills and bravado of those who do choose to participate in such sports. I came across these young men while out for a run in our neighborhood park the other day and I confess that at first glance I thought they were perhaps theater geeks or day trippers or who knows what. It turns out that Alfonso Hernandez (aka el pali) and Misael Ortiz (you can Google images of them for kicks of you have loads of time on your hands) were the real deal and todo caballero about my request to film them for a minute. Stay safe, guys!

Plants are indeed cool

2010-09-10T13:54:00.000-07:00

Our neighborhood plant store boasts the sign above, "Plants are cool." We find this sign to be hilarious and very true, as this vivero does indeed stock a lot of very cool plants. The guy who helped me pick out some greenery for the house this morning told me a story that made this sign all the funnier. Apparently about a year ago, signs with a bearded guy giving the ol' thumbs up appeared all over GDL with the declaration "Jesus is cool." The owner of this plant place thought it would be humorous to do something similar with an old photo of himself, and hence, "Las plantas estan chidas."

Su Perro Limpio

2010-09-10T13:28:00.000-07:00

This is definitely going to be one of my favorite local businesses. These guys roll up in a truck and give your dog the most exacting haircut ever. I actually had to tell the poor "estilista" yesterday that Chucho looked terrific but had suffered enough. Today, Chucho was chauffeured to his new vet to get a nasty case of dermatitis checked out--nothing to do with the shower and shave of yesterday but rather the consequence of either his brief but traumatic incarceration upon our arrival and/or the cheapo food he had to make do with until we found something akin to his usual cuisine.

The gated life

2010-09-08T08:25:00.000-07:00

Everyone, Mexicans and gringos alike, is obsessed with security here. In some ways, that's nothing new, as the most likely crimes to fall victim to are property-related, so the middle and upper classes here have long resorted to shards of glass on top of the thick walls surrounding their homes, gates locking their cars into the carports at night, barbed wire, etc. We have slightly fancier versions of such methods, like an electric fence at the top of our backyard's easily two meter high wall. But what's the best part of living the gated life? Miss R and Miss I running around on our little street with (almost) no fear of getting plowed over by a car. That's pretty fabulous.

Mariachis at the mall

2010-09-08T08:14:00.000-07:00

Guadalajara is big on mariachis and we just witnessed our first annual mariachi festival, which meant they were everywhere, even at the mall. I wouldn't go so far as to call mariachi music the Mexican equivalent of country, as it's a bit more sophisticated and some of the songs are deeply rooted in Mexican history but it is still an acquired taste in large doses. Maybe the tequila makes it easier to take for hours on end?

More on driving etiquette

2010-09-07T13:55:00.000-07:00

I realized the other day, mid-hand gesture toward a driver who was attempting to blow his stop sign in order to cut me off, that doing such things to men driving huge and hugely expensive American trucks may not be the best idea in the world, as those kinds of vehicles are favored by fellas in certain lines of business, if you know what I mean. Thankfully, I was later informed that the hand gesture that I had employed is typically interpreted as a gesture of thanks rather than something more along the lines of "what on earth do you think you are doing?" Phew!

Illegal turns

2010-09-02T20:31:00.000-07:00

I am feeling more at home now with GDL, especially since the car arrived and I've had a chance to explore a bit, both with and sans the girls. After a week of driving here, I felt comfortable enough to turn right from the far left lane on a three lane one way road in front of the other cars while the light was still red. No one even honked, although apparently the Transito, the traffic cops here, are pretty tough, so it's not likely to be a regular event from this mostly law-abiding gringa.

Tlaquepaque

2010-08-30T16:45:00.000-07:00

We spent an afternoon in Tlaquepaque this past weekend, strolling the main street, peeking at antique shops, and patronizing the street vendors for tchotchkes with which to entertain Miss R. It is not the DF's San Angel on a Saturday morning but we ate a great family-style meal (one enormous platter involving many forms of masa, meat, and cheese), admired some rather gorgeous pieces of furniture, and drank a lot of horchata once the heat kicked in late afternoon.


Notice mother's little helper, a la Mexicana, crucial for getting me through a meal out with two little ones.

Our very festive restaurant, which, like many in the area, was set up al fresco on a gorgeous patio inside of colonial or perhaps pseudo-colonial building.

La diablita herself, looking oh so angelic at this moment.

To the men of Mexico, I am not the time lady

2010-08-25T08:48:00.000-07:00

Somehow, it has become universal custom for men in this country to use the excuse of asking what time it is as a means of engaging me (and countless other gringas y otras extranjeras, no doubt). The question may be put in Spanish, English, some strange mix of both, or on occasion, with even a smattering of French or German thrown in if I am sporting some Euro-ish outfit. I never, ever wear a watch and rarely have a phone out, so why asking me such a question appears to be an acceptable form of engagement is beyond me, especially when the conversation occurs beneath a large public clock or they themselves are sporting a functioning timepiece. Ay, the joys of being la gringa again!

An open letter to dear friends in DC (and FS wannabees, gonnabees, etc.)

2010-08-24T14:24:00.000-07:00

Dear, dear amigas: With two weeks under our belt in Guadalajara, I wanted to sit down and write a note, both sentimental and practical, to all of you back in DC awaiting the first transfer. We miss you all very much, but we are also finding an easy comraderie here with neighbors and colleagues. We are all well so far, and with filtered water in the sink and coming out of our rather nice fridge, we hope to stay that way, although baby I's penchant for eating things off the ground and sucking on shoes will no doubt lead to some problems eventually. The house is terrific, better than I expected, and we are very much enjoying the protected street of our community for scootering and running around with the neighbor kids. The neighborhood, well, honestly, it makes Rosslyn look almost provincial. There are restaurants and bars and more Starbucks than one can imagine. We found a school for Miss R (and Miss I when she can walk, which is the informal entrance requirement here for preschools), a Montessori with a nice green space and a relatively rigorous academic program, with a few consulate families in attendance already, but not too gringified so that she can learn her Spanish and we can meet some folks outside of the usual circles. The cost up front was a bit of shock (it's common in most of Latin America and perhaps other parts of the world too to ask for a large sum for something akin to a registration fee and then smaller monthly payments, and for those of us with preschoolers, that's out of pocket). Mike is loving his work and making lots of contacts and generally living the vida loca lunching at the country club and going out for breakfast meetings (you can imagine that all this went over like a lead balloon when I was stuck with the chicas for two weeks straight with no break, trying to clean the house and unpack the UAB and find groceries and so on, but I survived and will have my day in the sun soon too). On that note, a number of things have come to mind since we arrived that may be of use to you all as you prepare for the first voyage abroad, albeit to very different parts of the world.
First, my mistakes:
1. Letting M do the packout.
2. Letting M do the packout (yes, that's number 2 too, because that meant that things like sippy cups and stools for little ones to reach the faucets and my spices and the contents of our medicine/bathroom cupboard did not make it into the UAB as planned. Fortunately, we are spoiled by access to Costco and Walmart and really, really fast parcel delivery, so between the first two and then Amazon, we have since saved the day.
3.Not packing crucial things like cleaning supplies and sheets and a tool kit and all those things that everyone says you should have in your UAB or maybe even in your suitcase. They threatened to take away our welcome kit after a couple of days, but fortunately, they seem to have now forgotten about it, so we are surviving just fine for now.
4. Not planning ahead for the hard, hard floors in most of these houses. I had shin splints after the first couple of days! One, it would be worth thinking about how you will get them clean if you don't care for the broom and then mop routine used in most of the world, so stick a vac in your UAB or take Swiffers or some more environmentally sound means of getting them clean. The cleaning supplies available here are stinky and toxic but wow, do they ever kill germs! The other issue is for those of you with little, little ones who are on the floor all day long--perhaps some Flor tiles sent ahead or small rugs stashed again in your things to ease the transition? Miss I has black and blue knees and is working on walking but we are still on this hard floor all the time.
5. Letting M do the packout. Well, poor guy, but really, most of the above would have been resolved if I had left a really, really anal list rather than just talking him through it.
So, one last thought for all of you on language, language, language. Mi espanol is a tad rusty but still quite passable and it's nonetheless been very stressful figuring out how to find things and get the girls into school and so on and so forth. I hope you will all find a way to study beforehand as much as you can and then you'll really need to lean on your CLO for support once you land. Otherwise, it's a hundred times worse than the A-100 routine when they all just disappeared for nine hours a day and you had to deal with kids and everything else on your own, having just moved to DC where at least we all could communicate and get around without too much trouble.
FYI, our UAB was here two days after we flew in, and the car will hopefully show up tomorrow relatively intact. Must be the proximity of Mexico but here's to hoping for similar timing for all of you, even at other ends of the earth!
Anyway, that's all for now. Miss you much. Abrazos. M