OEM #3: San Cristobol de las Casas

We arrived in San Cristobol de las Casas on Halloween night. There were kids trick-or-treating at stores we passed. I tell you, Mexico is confused. For this very reason, our kids weren’t allowed to wear costumes to school: “los niños no pueden venir disfrazados…si los alumnos vienen disfrazados van a confundir Halloween con Día de Muertos.”
Early the next morning, we drove to San Juan de Chamula, where they were celebrating Dia de Muertos. We were not only the only white people there, it felt like we were the only ones from planet earth. Many of them spoke either no Spanish, or heavily accented Spanish. We were a spectacle to them as much as they were to us—I could almost taste their xenophobia. This man (below), whom I secretly adore, hated my camera. Notice him yelling at me with love and affection. Also notice he is wearing the typical clothes for the town: a poncho made of furry wool. The women wear skirts and shawls made of this material. We were told that they cost upwards of $300 each, for those of the best quality.

We had to pay a fee to get into the central church, where photography was strictly forbidden. Even if I had taken pictures, I’m not sure they would have come out. The chapel was filled with billowing incense. Candles lined the floor in front of effigies. There were no benches nor chairs and the floor was covered with a thick layer of pine needles. Processions headed by bands filed into the church and the drums competed with wailing prayers. The church was technically catholic, but I’m not sure the pope would have approved.
Here are some pictures I snuck of the outside of the church and the huge market in front of it:

 As you can see in the next 2 pictures, there was a long line in front of the church, only a fraction of it can be seen in the pictures. At first I thought it was a line to get into the church.

But looking closer, the first man in the line is holding 3 long ropes attached to each of the bells in the steeple of the church. They were waiting to ring their dead back to visit them.

Back in San Cristobol. David’s choice of hotel (Tierra y Cielo) wasn’t lavish this time, but the restaurant in the hotel was some of the best food we’ve had: mole, chia seeds, tamales, tortilla soup, gorditas, cocao cake.

 David and Iris chose to get into the spirit of the trip. Iris parroted “hola” to everyone all the time. David’s theme was “ripe.” He made goals relating to shaving, showering, and brushing his teeth and hair. These were NOT hygienic goals, quite the contrary. Both people are still in the traveling spirit.

OEM#2: Palenque

The city center:

David wanted to sleep in luxury. The hotel he chose opened recently and the owner (whom we talked to for a while) was a Mayan scholar; he designed the hotel with huge pyramids and wooden replicas of Mayan art. The pools overlooked a pond that was full of white garzas (the origin of the surname Garcia, according to the brain of David).

The hotel resteraunt was beautiful too (see center below), but the food wasn't stellar, although E tried rabbit for the first time and claimed to like it.

Palenque ruins

This was the system of ventilation they used. The "T" shape was the symbol of the wind god.

This is the last picture of Claire smiling.

Nursemaid’s elbow. Heard of it? Claire is well acquainted. Me too. “Nursemaid's elbow, Babysitter's elbow or Pulled elbow is a dislocation of the elbow joint caused by a sudden pull on the extended pronated arm, such as by an adult tugging on an uncooperative child, or swinging the child by the arms during play. The technical term for the injury is radial head subluxation.” I have dislocated my kid’s radius twice in the past year. I was taking her off my shoulders in Palenque when I heard a “pop” and screaming and more screaming. For anyone out there who maims children, the following is the solution:

After a speedy exit from the ruins with the dislocated arm, which was soon resolved after a call to my bro, we continued on our journey, making a few stops on the way.

First stop: Waterfall of Misol Ha

Hiked behind the falls:

Second stop: more waterfalls at Aguas Azules

Elijah makes friends absolutely everywhere. He played in the mud with a few Israeli men who told us, "Your kid started speaking to us in Spanish, which we don't know, but his English is pretty good."

Then, the journey continued. Most definitely the worst 3 hours of the trip--through windy mountainous shoddy roads destroyed by numerous landslides. Our stomachs revolted. Third stop: the waterfall of Elijah.

We drove through several pueblitos with people walking in the middle of the street, carrying huge loads on their backs, hung by chords across their foreheads. There were also speed bumps at every turn and people selling at most speed bumps. The highlight of the horrible trip was when we came to a certain speed bump with a little girl standing next to it. As we drove towards her, she lifted a blue rope across the street so that if we continued, we’d either break the rope or her hand which was intertwined in it. We thought she needed to tell us something urgent, but no, she just wanted to sell us peeled oranges. David regretted not giving her money for the ingenuity.

OEM #1: Veracruz

Operation Experience Mexico (OEM) is our attempt to suck the life out of our remaining days here in this beautiful country. So far, OEM has included a monsterous road trip, visiting Veracruz, Palenque, San Cristobol de las Casas, San Juan Chamula, Oaxaca, Puebla, San Miguel de Allende, Atotonilco, Queretaro, Mexico City. The trip was fun, but the “road” part of it, not so much. The kids inherited my weak stomach and vomit was to be had everywhere.
On that lovely note, let the pictures begin:
The kids had been begging to go to the beach, so for their week off for Dia de los Muertos, our first stop was Veracruz.
View of the main square from our hotel room.

A hurricane was hitting the Yucatan when we were there, so it was a tad windy.

Proud members of the NRA:

Fort San Juan de Ulua. It was a fort, presidential palace, armory, and prison.

Much of the fort was made from coral reef.

The prison was considered the worst in the country since the cells were so humid: see stalactites/stalagmites:

The beach was short-lived since it was so windy.

Party bus. We were told the bus wouldn't leave until there were more people. So the kids and I did a recruiting dance...and surprisingly, it worked.

Temple of Veracruz:

The funny thing about this dress is that David bought it for Claire the day before. How do they grow so quickly?

Joblessness

I don’t like to be defined by an event. That’s why I dislike pregnancy. People (including me) see a pregnant woman and all we can do is talk about names, how many weeks, you really wanted a girl didn’t you, breastfeeding makes me giddy, and especially birthing horrors (I bled like a confederate soldier, almost died, but don’t worry, you’ll be fine-type of talk), you get the picture. The point is that I shun labels or stigmas: I keep them hidden for as long as possible. Then when I can’t hide, I lie. I have been dishonest and/or secretive with many people for the past 3.5 months, but I’m coming clean now.

David was a casualty of the economic downturn, dare I say recession. He was laid off.

At first we thought it’d be a nice vacation—time to kick back, enjoy life, throw down a brewskie or maybe a few tacos instead, and love laziness. If only that were so. Every man should go through unemployment so he can sympathize with PMSers: unexplained mood swings, feel like staying in pajamas all day, why me, let me delicately bite your head off, all resolved by sugary and/or lardy foods plus a chick flick.

Not to say he didn’t hunt; he hunted hard. David has always had a healthy relationship with the computer and phone, and the job hunt turned it into a passionate love affair. I won’t bore you anymore with the intricacies of joblessness and the search, but will say that David became a Cuban Globetrotter, visiting each of the following if not once, several times: Houston, DC, California, Chicago, Arizona, NYC, and then back to DF. The search was punctuated by hope, desperation, and in the end, divine intervention.

The result is that after almost 2 decades, Arizona will welcome me home once again. My family moved there when I was about Elijah’s age and I absolutely loved it (wore black and didn’t talk to my parents when they told us about our move to NOLA). Because of my fond memories and an over-abundance of Arizonan Udalls, David was a little surprised at how passive I was in the job decision-making process. We had 3 offers to choose from and I didn’t throw in my 2-cents very much since I felt my point of view was superficial: “We should live _____ because it’s so totally gnarly,” or “_____has rad weather and bodacious blondes.” But now that David has decided GE Capital is for him, I will revel in the fact that he might finally work normal hours, we will buy a house, and I can do what I’ve always wanted (and have already done in spurts): fully take advantage of (i.e. use and abuse) nearby family members, hoping they will do the same to us, of course.

Alas Mexico, I will miss you, because really, where else could I find tacky gems like these:

I’m still trying to decide whether they are sacrilegious. But the advantages might tip the scale if He gives me the evil eye while I’m eating greasy Arizonan TexMex, "Last Supper?"

A different kind of violence

After the last post, the following information might surprise you: we are alive and our heads are still connected to our necks.
In other news: I have been dreading today for several months.
The parent/teacher conferences.

This summer I strategized for the battle and bought a fresh bevy of parenting books. Now, I will divulge that I have ADHD (attention deficit and HYPO-activity disorder) and therefore merely skimmed parts of some of them. One that I did pay particular attention to was quite liberal—David called me a Democrat after the conferences (I think that was meant as an insult?). Anyway, I gave myself several pep talks beforehand. My heart was racing, fingers fidgeting. Of course the meeting with Claire’s teachers was amicable with a touch of light humor. They said she has a “strong personality,” meaning she screams, pushes, pulls hair, and even bites when she doesn’t get what she wants, but for the most part, is linda and tranquila. No surprises there.

Elijah’s was all-out war. There were 3 of them (the 4th was unable to attend) and one of them was a French witch, so I’d count that as roughly 500 against the 2 of us, but you might as well have put David on their side. David= “Yes, oh wise demons, I wrote a sonnet praising your astute judgments.” So, me against 501. The highlight was when the school director said we needed a “specialist” to teach us how to deal with our son. I snickered and swore in my mind. “Why don’t we just bring him to the local lobotomist, is that the kind of specialist you are referring to?” Oh, how I wish I had the guts and vocabulary to say that out loud in Spanish.
“Lobotomía,” for future reference, should have guessed that one.

Gameplan= I created a spreadsheet that I plan on updating daily (unless my ADHD starts acting up again) to detail my efforts and the progress of “the child.” This democrat has a plan and YES WE CAN!

PS. The school director and the French demons didn’t attend the conference for Claire. But, in E’s conference, the demons freely admitted to getting down in E’s face in order to yell at him a few weeks ago. They were surprised that 1) Elijah hadn’t told me about the incident and 2) usually kids cry when the demons yell; he didn’t flinch.
That's my boy! Together we can thrust those demons into the swine.

Worms

When I was a missionary, I was served a beautifully delicious plate of steamed cauliflower. Yum, Yum, give me some, until my companion pointed out the steamed worms attached to the stems. They were very hard to notice, tiny, and the same color as the cauliflower. Since I am a cruel person, I pulled rank and whispered, "Hermana, here's a little lesson on how not to offend our hostess."  I downed the rest of my steamed invertebrates and she reluctantly picked at them. Now, here's the perfect opportunity for a metaphor.

 As our time in Mexico most probably grows thin, I am making lists. Lists of things I love, things I'll miss the most, things I've learned, and I'm filled with the warm fuzzies. Mexico, you are a delectable, gourmet head of perfectly seasoned, steamed cauliflower.  I have tried, I promise I have tried so hard (most of the time) to eat through your worms. But lately those worms have resurrected and are writhing and as I'm about to push them down my throat, they look me in the face and say, "Fear me." And then they cackle and spit and bleed. Isn't that pleasant?  5 severed heads dropped outside of an elementary school in Acapulco. 35 bodies (and later, 11 more) dropped in the middle of traffic in Veracruz. 2 tortured, naked bodies hanging from an overpass in a border state, 52 people burned alive in a Monterrey casino. These are just some of the news stories from the past month. But what has been keeping me up at night--literally, is the shootout in our neighborhood restaurant a few weeks ago with 3 dead and a few more injured and then the 2 heads found 2 miles from our place on Monday. The heads had a lengthy note attached from a cartel. The message was clear: we have arrived in Mexico City. 

So Mexico, although I'd love to savor your tasty florets, those are some nasty worms crawling up your stem, and frankly, I’m not sure how much longer I can stomach them.

Caveat: I read over this and it seems overly negative. I don’t feel this way most of the time (yes, violence is horrible, but living in fear is not my path). It was a rough night. After a hot shower and a bowl of cereal, those worms can party on in my stomach.

Quotidian life

No wonderful trips to report this time, just chronicles of our quotidian life.
Iris is toddling and destroying.

  This is why the kids don't like her in their room.

   "Mom, did you really think you could hide the marbles? I dug and now I will partake."

Claire has started making representational drawings: according to her interpretation, our family is full of ballooned heads and stick legs. Quite insightful, except I'd argue my stick legs are more of a goal than a reality. Enjoys school, although she still refers to it as "Elijah's escuela."

Revving up for halloween. Her collage of snot and marker is the work of a true artist. 

Elijah stuck a pencil in a classmate's eye. Nurse's office, ER, ophthamologist. Mexico is full of hyperbole, nevertheless, I felt bad for the child and of course we apologized profusely to the parents on several occasions.

Karen fainted at the pulpit a few Sundays ago.
The dishwasher, whom we affectionately refer to as "Caroline," continues to wash dishes. all.day.long.
While Iris is still malleable, David is trying to convince her that she loves him more than me. She agrees most of the time, for now.