For the past month, I’d been torn up with trying to plan our escape from Mexico. This was not because I hated Mexico. I quite liked it. The people were good, kind and intelligent, I liked Spanish, and I loved the food. I lived in an apartment I liked, in a nice part of town close to a grocery store, good restaurants, bus stops, and a huge, beautiful park.

But the strain over visas become overwhelming. We had come to Mexico to teach and therefore needed FM3 work visas. Our school had taken our paperwork - apostilles, tourist visas, immigration forms - and our money, promising to have a proper visa soon. Weeks went by and no visa. Months went by, and no visa. We told the people who run the school over and over that we wanted out visas, that the time on our tourist cards was running out. Then it did run out. No problem, they said. The paperwork is in. We’ll pay the fine for overstaying your tourist card.

More months went by. No visas. Finally, faced with the avalanche of lies and bad business practices used by the school, we left. We were promised the return of our papers, the money we’d given for the visas, our last pay. We got nothing. Derrick Woods and Dan Martin at Thinking in English language school had ripped us off, just like they had done to almost every other teacher who had ever worked there.

Regardless of them, though, there was the very real problem of what to do. We were in Mexico illegally. We didn’t have the paperwork anymore to try and get FM3s. There was a huge fine racked up which, while not out fault, was still attached to our names. We didn’t even know if we could leave Mexico and come back with new tourist cards. If we tried and couldn’t get back in, our cats were stuck.

So we decided to just leave and not come back, which opened up another whole set of problems. How to get out? No one would let us drive a rental car over the border. One-way drop offs were incredibly expensive. But if we flew, it would open the door to all kinds of questions about out immigration status.

After days of trying to work out every kind of plan, I decided to just hack the Gordian knot down the middle and fly. At least it congealed all our problems into one place, instead of spreading them all over the states of Chihuahua and Texas. We bought tickets. It took a lot of our savings, but I was just thankful we had the money. It was a blessing from God, because my husband had gotten, without applying and totally out of the blue, a grant from his school. Then I waited, praying every day to Our Lady of Perpetual Help and driving my friends crazy with hysterical emails. I laid awake at night, and got distracted during the day, worrying.There were so many ways this could go wrong. Immigration could catch us before we left. We could get deported - what would happen to my babies? The airline could refuse to let us leave until the fine was paid. We could miss our flight. There could be something wrong with the paperwork for the cats.

The day loomed. We still didn’t even know how we were going to get to the airport. One by one, all the people we knew became unavailable. Then my husband called a taxi service and got someone who spoke English. We arranged to be picked up, and the taxi was not only not late, but a little early. We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare. We walked up to the check-in counter, ready to admit we had no tourist visas and get things settled in plenty of time, only to be told there would be no check in for another two hours. So we waited. I prayed. I played a video game. Then I prayed some more. My poor cats, trapped in their carriers, also waited patiently.

Finally, the time came. The airline searched our baggage. They looked out the papers for the cats. They charged us for the pet carriers, but not the overweight fee they were very much entitled to. The people who worked for the airline were never anything but kind and polite, and just when I thought it was all over, they dropped this: “You can’t go through security yet. You will have to wait for the man from immigration to come. He will be here about 1:20.” Almost an hour and half.

So we sat obediently, outside of the security area. I prayed. I said the rosary. I read the Bible. I went to the sparkling-clean bathroom about six times. I tried not to think too much about what would happen when the immigration guy came, or if he was late. At last, a young, clean-cut man in a shirt which read INS walked by. This was him.

We went up to the counter. He asked us why we had overstayed. We decided it would be the better part of discretion to not go into the whole sad saga, so we simply said we had lost them. He scolded us, gently, for overstaying a tourist visa and warned us to not do it again or they would levy the whole fine. We had to pay for new tourist cards. And then we were free. He was courteous and compassionate. He even got scolded by one of the airline staff for making us even pay for new tourist cards, which I was thought generous. Security was pleasant and sweet to the cats, checking the carriers by hand and not making us get them out of running them through the x-ray machine. We walked to the gate. Even though the flight had not yet left, I felt like it was over. The nightmare was over.

We didn’t even realize until we got to the gate that a plane had been hijacked in Cancun earlier. All these people had been so sweet and accommodating on a day when security and worry must have been high.

I had done my best, but there was and is no doubt in my mind that this was all the mercy of God. I had done my best, but so much was out of my hands, and I knew it. I didn’t make the grant come through. My charm had influenced the intellect of the immigration guy. It wasn’t my snazzy luggage or personal magnetism which had led the airline staff to be so courteous. It wasn’t me working in everyone’s hearts. It was God. God had saved us. God had led us out safely. Everything had been because of God.

I’m not saying this because I want to portray God as a magic genie who granted me all my wishes. I’m saying I was in trouble, deep trouble, and while I endeavored all that was possible for me, the rest was the grace of God. I didn’t force him and I didn’t deserve it. God didn’t help me because I was so worthy and superior. But I turn to him, every night, every day. And I did turn to the Blessed Mother. And that is the lesson: in all things, turn to God. I hope the experience had allowed me to embed this lesson into the deepest part of me, so that I do it in all circumstances and not just when things seem their darkest.

You may have noticed I haven't posted in a while. Sadly, we have had some trouble and have had to leave Chihuahua.

Mexico is a wonderful place and the Mexican people are intellignet, kind and generous. But the people we worked for at Thinking in English language school in Chhuahua are, to put it bluntly, scumbags.

We were lied to. We were ripped off. We were manipulated. Derrick Woods, who is somehow the owner despite not being able to manage money, doing no work, and being the most reprehensible human I have ever meant, never came through on a single thing he promised. We got no work visas, our overstay fine was not paid. He stole our last pay.

Looking back on it, Derrick Woods and Thinking in English lied to is about almost every single thing since we got there, and then put us in the horrible situation of being in the country illegally through no fault of our own. We trusted someone who is being, and has been in the past, sued for bad business practices and not paying salaries and taxes. He's been accused of rape. He's assaulted teachers.

If you see an ad and are thinking about coming here, Do NOT Work at Thinking in English in Chihuahua, Mexico.

Thinking in English is a small, American-owned language school in Ciudad Chihuahua. It is a horrible, unprofessional, demeaning place to work, and anyone who thinks about teaching there should be warned what they are getting into.

A lot of promises will be made and lot of manipulation attempted. Here are only a few of the things which happened there:

*They promise to help with you with your visa. I worked there ten months, with my apostille, visa money, and paperwork ready the first month I was there. They never got me my visa and kept the money they took from me to get my visa. They also promised to pay the fine incurred for overstaying a tourist visa, then did not do it. They ripped me off for my last pay as well.

* Never paid on time, not even once.

* Derrick Woods bragged about ripping money off from other teachers in the past when they dared to give notice they were leaving.

* Constantly promised things they didn't do, such as put new A/Cs in the classrooms. The air conditioners already there barely work and they make you open the doors and windows during class so that mosquitoes and other bugs get in.

* Promised free Internet, then made us pay for it.

* Promised free breakfast, then never had any.

* Promised free lunches, then many times had nothing, even knowing some teachers would have no time to get anything else to eat before class. Or they bought a half pint of rice and a half pint of chopped meat to feed four or five people.

* Never ordered books for the students until after the course had begun, which resulted in students not having any books for three or more weeks into the courses.

* Never had basic supplies, like markers for the whiteboards or even working CD players in all the rooms.

* Would not maintain the printer, so teachers could often not make worksheets or exams because the printer did not work/was out of paper or toner.

* Will not pay taxes and benefits teachers are entitled to by Mexican law.

* Do not assign classes to the teachers until the day the course begins, so teachers have no time to plan, then changes the schedule repeatedly with no notice. I've seen classes have four or five different teachers in one course, which is three months.

* Derrick Woods downloads pornography onto the only computer at the school.

* No supplies for the kids classes save for one bag of crayons and one box of markers.

* Derrick pays absolutely no attention to suggestions made by teachers, even when he asked for them. He also lies about pretty much anything ("The swine flu shut us down for a month!"- lie: the flu shut the school down for six days) and will not keep any promise he makes. Over and over again, I saw him promise people he would be in the office at a certain time to pay people or discuss things and then not show, without even calling and giving an excuse.

* They promise free satellite TV - that's because they're pirating it.

* They'll promise free accommodations if you live at the school - DON'T. Two out of the three "apartments" at the school are hotel-size rooms, bed and bath, nothing more. The other is a bit bigger, but also, no kitchen. And they can't even make up their minds about whether they'll keep these or tear them up to make new classrooms, so if you go there expecting to stay at the school, be aware that you may be evicted any time. In fact, be aware of that anyway, because Derrick is so unstable he can never be trusted to not show up at any time and threaten you, like I know he has done to other teachers.

* Most of the teacher editions of the textbooks were stolen.

* Used to present itself as a Christian missionary school, until Derrick ripped off so many people that the orhanization pulled its funding. He also lied about this repeatedly, saying the school was still Christian and that he stopped being a missionary because of ideological problems. I imagine their reluctance to keep dealing with a thief and a liar, who on at least one occasion attacked a teacher, might be considered an ideological problem.

* Has been sued in the past for trying to rip off employees for pay and benefits. Is currently being sued for trying to rip off employees for pay and benefits.

Most of these things I witnessed myself, but some I had to find out from people who used to work there. I am not some newbie who's never taught before and likes to complain. I have a US state teaching certificate, have taught in schools in the US for five years and have taught EFL for another six years. This is the worst school with the worst people running it I have seen in three countries. Go there at your own risk.

The church we go to in Chihuahua (which is called Espiritu Santo, I found out finally) has some quite nice stained glass in the ceiling and on the walls. The most obvious ones document the Way of the Cross, with an extra at the end of Jesus' resurrection, common in Mexico (I like this. Good to remember the story has a happy ending.)

Even though the Way of the Cross is usually promoted during Lent, I can't wait that long. I thought I'd share some photos of the windows in Espiritu Santo.

Number One: Jesus is condemned to death

1. Milagro is getting better. He's obviously stronger and more alert, even though he still doesn't walk. He wants me around all the time, preferably holding him, but he'll settle for lying on a clean towel next to me. What a tough little guy. I really can't believe someone basically tossed him away like a piece of trash.

2. Pico hurt his tail yesterday. I have no idea how, but he somehow managed to get a few blood splats about seven feet up the wall. He's been resting and already he's feeling better, too.

3. Pepper is fine and feeling haughty.

4. The big boys have taken the presence of a new kitten very well. Pico has made it plain that He Doesn't Like It, but he hasn't done anything mean or aggressive, and Pepper is the Zen Master: "New cat? Whatever."

5. We went to Evil Mart on Monday and pretty much didn't buy anything we went there for. We did, however, purchase some dumbbells. This was my idea. I love lifting weights, and I've wanted to join a gym for a long time but things have been so unstable that I didn't want to commit to a monthly fee for it. Viola! Home gym! I've been lifting all week, hammering out a routine, and I LIKE IT.

6. New painting is almost finished. It's the first in a series of paintings based on the mysteries of the rosary. So number one is, of course, the Annunciation. Pics when it's done!

7. Kevin has pointed out there are now more cats than people in our home. I clapped. I've always wished to live in a kitty house.

More Quick Takes Thingies at Conversion Diary.

Saturday is usually our deportiva day.  We can go on other days, but on Saturdays, we HAVE to go.  So, last Saturday, we put on our walking clothes and went, crossing Universidad and going on to the park.  I made my best time yet around the entire thing, had some very nice whole wheat cheese gorditas, and started back home.

When we got to the Universidad crossing, there was a surprise awaiting us which had definitely not been there when we had first crossed: a little gray kitten.  The kitten was obviously sick and in pain, his legs flat, his back hunched oddly, his eyes scabbed over and shut.  He didn't move but meowed weakly.  My heart sunk.  I love animals, especially cats, and I couldn't believe someone would just leave a sick kitten on the side of a busy street like that. 

The light turned and it was our chance to go.  We crossed, and as soon as I reached the other side, I started to cry.  I wanted to do something, but what?  He was going to die no matter what, and I didn't want to bring anything into the house to make Pepper and Pico sick. 

But still, it gnawed at me.  OK, so he was going to die.  Was it better for him to die on the side of the road, in the heat, surrounded by cars and concrete, or in a quiet, safe, clean place with a full belly, with people who loved him?

I turned back.  "I'm going to get him," I said.  Kevin, who knows me very well, agreed.
When we got the intersection, there was a couple of farmer kids selling things during the lights.  "Is this your cat?" Kevin asked in Spanish.

"No," said the kid.  "It's dead."

But the kitten was not dead.  He looked up weakly.  I pet him and tried to determine the best way of picking him up without hurting him.  I finally got him up and held him in both arms all the way home.  Once there, we put him in a box on a bed of fresh towels and gave him food and water.  Then he slept.

I pretty much expected him to die before evening, but he lived.  He lived Sunday, too, and several times I cleaned his eyes, changed his bedding, and gave him food.

He's still here, getting stronger.  He ate more food today then ever before, and looked around and seemed more alert then I've seen him.  He still can't move very well, and I don't know what happened to him, but he's safe and clean and warm and petted.

So I named him Milagro.

We live rather close to the Chihuahua city deportiva, an incredibly nice park and fitness facility run by and paid for by the city. It's a big, gorgeous park, filled with trees, bike paths, jogging and walking trails, baseball diamonds, and (wait for it) an Olympic pool. You have to buy a membership to use the pool, but everything else is free, even some classes like yoga and pilates.


It was our first trip there this morning, so we just walked, amazed. It's clean and large and filled with nice, polite people jogging or walking or watching their kids play ball. At various places outside and inside the deportiva, there were vendors selling healthier snacks, like whole-wheat gorditas and 100% juice. We couldn't resist getting some of that.


Then it was on to the Soriana for some grocery shopping, but first a stop at Dona Flors, a craft shop recommended to me by a student. I had never been here before, either, and I was astonished. It was the best craft shop I had ever seen in my life - all in one place, yarn and needles and cross stitch floss and paint and brushes and canvasses and about a million other things. I held myself back to buying some cross stitch stuff, as I want to do more of that, but I could have spent practically all day and a lot of money there.


We bought tasty veggies and fruit from Soriana, stopped for a cold drink at a little snack stand close to our new church, which I believe is called Our Lady of Guadalupe, but I'm not sure about that. I hope so. I love La Virgen de Guadalupe.


And now for a pic of my latest painting:

I've made a new blog for all things Mexico: http://ay-chihuahua-amber.blogspot.com/ I'm still going to post here, of course, but this is going to be my All Mexico blog. I'm kinda sick of all the Mexico blogs I see being made by rich retired people who live in Yucatan. Viva the working class!

A few months ago, I decided I HAD to get a bilingual Bible. I actually have two Bibles in Spanish, but after seeing another person's bilingual Bible (even if it was a Protestant one), I knew I had to have one. It hadn't even hit me that such a thing existed until I saw it, and then it was all like YES! I WANT IT.

I tried to just find one in Chihuahua, pero es no va (no go). After a bizarrely long time, it occured to me I could order one online, but all the ones I looked at were rather expensive, even before the international shipping costs. (Note to US vendors - quit giving shipping breaks to Canada and not Mexico, you racist capitalist swine.) And at last I thought of my new favorite online bookstore, Better World, which not only has a good selection and inexpensive shipping (less than $4 per book, anywhere in the world), it also gives part of all sales to literacy funds and rescues used books from extinction. Huzzah! Get good and make good.

So I went ahead and ordered a very nice-looking leather-bound Catholic bilingual Bible from them, and began to play the waiting game. This is the part I hate, because every time I order books, I want them NOW, and every day I am in a fever of anticipation and mild fear that they won't arrive. Or that when they do, no one will be around to accept them and they would get to the downtown post office and require all sorts of wheeling and dealing in order for me to get a ride down there to retrieve them. Or get hung up at customs for no particular reason (Guangzhou never did release my $50 copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows). You're so vulnerable when you're in love.

Every day for the past three weeks, I've danced around the mailbox trying to catch sight of the book or a "pick up" slip, but every day, nothing. Until today! Hooray, it has arrived!

Thus, I must sing a song of praise to Spanish and Mexico. I've already covered Better World Books. Dig 'em.

1. Spanish is connected to Latin in a much purer way than English is, and I love it when Spanish words for things are like the more high-level English words. Example: yesterday, one of my adults classes asked me what "behavior" meant. I gave my usual sort of stuttering explanation until the light dawned. "OH," one of them said, and wrote down in his notebook, "Comportamente".

I love that.

2. People in Mexico are WAY more polite than Americans, and, strangely, Korea. Everyone, and I mean everyone, greets each other with "Buenos dias" or "buenos tardes". Men hold the door openfor women. If you drop something on the floor, someone else rushes to pick it up for you. All conversations start with inquiries into how you are feeling and how your family is, and people are genuinely interested. And something happens in Mexico on a daily basis that I saw maybe five times the whole year I lived in Korea - men give their seats to women on the bus, even teenage boys. Doesn't matter the age of the woman, males get up and offer their seats with a gentlemanly flourish. I saw this happen maybe five times in Korea, and always to old or pregnant women.

3. Mexico - they work hard and they play hard.

4. La comida! I know I've praised Mexican food before, but you can never praise it enough.

5. Menudo (the boy band) WAS NOT FROM MEXICO. In a related note, Bruce Lee was not Japanese.

6. Rosaries a'poppin'.

7. Mexico has day care centers, children's hospitals. extended close-knit families, babysitters, etc., but Mexicans never seem to be under the impression that raising their kids is ultimately anyone's responsibilty but their own. They're not always looking for ways to blame the school or teachers for everything their kids do, and they don't scream and threaten litigation to get everything their own way for their own needs, all other people be damned. Ejemplo: I was doing an activity with a high-level class in which they had to imagine they were hotel managers and had to come up with solutions to some problems in their hotel. One problem was there was nothing for kids to do and they ran around the hotel aimlessly. i did this about a thousand times in China, and my students there came up with good solutions involving hiring nannies, building playgrounds, etc. - pretty much what I figured were the "right" answers. But my Mexican students, all women with children, unanimously came up with ideas to educate people on how to take care of their own kids and how to spend more time with their own families. Bravo!

8. The kids I see in Mass are the most well-behaved kids I have ever seen in church. Ever.

This has gotten a bit away from my Bible, hasn't it?

I have somehow been surviving the great swine flu epidemic (rolls eyes), even doing such dangerous things as riding the bus, eating in restaurants with *gasp* other people, and giving classes. I know this sounds callous, but give me a break. Every time there's some new strain of whatever, everyone in America goes out of their minds with hysteria, and what ends up happening? Pretty dang little.

I understand the people of Mexico freaking a bit more, as there have been more than a few deaths in the country, but holy crap. School's cancelled, the government's pretty well shut down, all Church activities have been suspended, including Mass (!!), and not a single case has been detected in Chihuahua. The husband and I ate in a completely-deserted restaurant yesterday that oddly had the TV turned on to All-Panic TV News, and they did nothing, nothing for the entire hour we were there but jabber incessantly about the flu. The fact that it could be avoided by washing your hands regularly, not touching things and then sticking your hands in your mouth, and airing out your house/room/office was fairly ignored.

I've got to admit that I'm enjoying having a bit of class time off (not much - the maquilas - companies - still wanted their classes and I got sent to all maquilas this past week), but the lunacy concerning this thing is just amazing. I think people, in Chihuahua at least, are actually getting tired of the whole thing. Earlier this week, the streets were deserted and you saw almost no one out on the buses or driving, stores closed, etc. But more and more people have started creeping out as they saw for themselves the world wasn't ending as TV news so devoutly hopes it would, and yesterday and today, I noticed a lot more people out, shopping, getting ice cream, riding public transport. generally going on with their lives.

Looking back upon the latests string of mutant illnesses, I've noticed something and think I have a solution, a way to stop any more of these things from happening: GO VEGETARIAN. SARS - came from exotic cats people were eating in Guangzhou. Mad cow - cannibal beef. Avian flu - chickens. And now the poor pigs. Revenge of the animals! Planet of the apes! It's a madhouse, a maaadhouse!

One of the things I find rather charming about Mexico is the travelling guitar man. I've never seen a woman do this, so I'll stick to the male gender for the time being. Anyway, I've seen this both in little cafes and on the bus: a guy with a guitar, usually very cheap and old, comes in, sings, asks for some change, then is on his way. I love being serenaded while I eat or sit on the bus. It also seems to me to be a very pure way of making a living: no flyers, no marketing, no merchandise. Just the man and his art.

I'm sure it's hard to busk around this way, but I like the music. I hate people who treat other cultures as interesting little experiments for them to observe for their amusement (almost always obvious in the way these people use the pronouns THEM or THEY to refer to the native people giving them money and hospitality: Oh, isn't it funny the way THEY do things? I'll never understand the way THEY think), but this does play into some of my more romantic presumptions about Mexico. Nice, warm weather, hot Latin guys, and someone singing romantic songs on an acoustic guitar. Yeah baby.

Still feel good on the veggie diet, but started getting tired tired tired. And my legs started feeling even more like they weren't working right. I'm sure this has a lot to do with the pinched nerve, but still, it was kind of a bring down. Then, yesterday, while I was shopping for some junk for the last kids' class, I had an epiphany. I bought some 100% ornage juice and a nice big bunch of bananas. While everyone else around me had pizza and cookies and ice cream, I ate bananas and drank orange juice and was not only totally happy but felt much better and energized. I didn't even had much of an appetite for cake when one of my students brought some to class (I did eat a piece, though. Hey, I'm not made of stone.). So this, I think, is the key: FRUIT. Especially bananas. And I am so totally not going to argue with that.

I got a new company class this week, which made me sad because it meant I had to stop going to daily Mass. On the other hand, it opened up a whole new adventure for me, because I have to take the bus.

This doesn't sound very exciting, especially since I had so many bus problems in Korea, but it is. I don't have to wait for someone to pick me up or bring me home. I don't have to listen to someone else's crappy choice in radio or obnoxious chit chat. If there's no class for some reason, I can turn around and come back on my own. I can see all kinds of things in Chihuahua I've never had a chance to see before. I'm free! Free!

Also, the bus ride is rather pleasant. The weather here is nice (VERY nice - it's been in the 70s and 80s for weeks), the morning traffic at that time is not bad, and the bus never gets too crowded, at least not by Asian sardine-can standards. I almost always get a seat, and the trip from the bus stop to the company only takes about 15 minutes, not an hour. No one's stomped on my foot so hard it swelled up and turned purple yet, and the route goes all over, so the more familiar I get with it, the better I'll know the city.

Of course, I'm doing my usual fine-tuning of the bus stops and times. I keep getting off too early or too late and so adding a bunch of walking, but it hasn't been too bad. My students find it highly amusing I'm so pleased to be taking the bus, as most of them think the buses here are horrible. How wrong they are! A few days jammed together on the Hwaseong bus system would change that attitude, but I don't wish that on these kind people.

In cat news: Pico has grown these odd white eyebrows. They're really long and curly and look like something out of Dr. Suess. I'm also pretty sure he's related (probably the son of) El Gato Negro. They have the same naughty face and big ears. I've let the son of the enemy into my house! Pico seems to have no inkling of this, however, and regards Pepper as his daddy, rooting for The Boy whenever Pepper has to go kick some black cat butt. Kevin has pointed out that the older Pico gets, the more he looks like a Chihuahua dog. So now I have a cat who acts like a dog but looks like a cat, and a cat who looks like a dog but acts like a cat.

I finally uploaded some more pics to Hola Mexico. Go there to check 'em all out, but here's a preview:

The Boy:



The Kitten:


The Tamales:


The Mexican Sushi:

Yeah, I was too lazy and not in the mood to do these yesterday. It was...not a good week.

1. A good week to remember my Buddhist training, though: breathe and let go. My class schedule got changed twice, with two companies I thought I was doing well at and had a good rapport with the students basically saying they didn't want me there. It was really just the usual shifting around the school likes to do every four or so months, and it wasn't as bad as them actually refusing me, but it felt like it. This probably doesn't make any sense, and I don't feel like going into all the details, but suffice to say I was quite displeased.

2. The Husband has his birthday this week and told everyone he was a year older than he is, because he really had forgotten how old he was.

3. The weather is nice but I still haven't had a chance to go to Adoration because of my schedule being jerked around so much.

4. Pico has been, behind my back, growing. He started looking a lot less like a wee kitten and more like a little cat. He also still eats like a pig and won't quit attacking Pepper and biting him. If Pepper's fur wasn't so thick, I'm sure he would be doling out the butt whuppin's even more than he already is.

5. We made tamales again last Sunday and, while they were good and we ate them for breakfast all week, they were a bit too soft. I think I used too much liquid. Let that be a lesson to you!

6. After I mentioned never having had them in class, one of my students brought me a bag of sweet tamales. This is a thing whose time has come. I can't believe they're not easier to find in America: raisins, nuts, and pineapple. Whoa baby.

7. I finally got the Bishop Fulton Sheen book I ordered, Peace of Soul. Is there anything the man says that is not wonderful and exciting and true?

and a bonus track:

8. The school isn't going to set up Spanish lessons for us this term, so I have to find my own. I'm thinking about going to a school around the corner from us, which will mark my first foray into taking a class in something at an actual school in quite a while. I am a swotty little Hermione of a student, though, so if I get in a class, it should present no significant problem.

Hasta luego!

1. The Husband and I finally went to a sushi stand we've been wanting to go to pretty much ever since we got to Chihuahua. Yes, it's a little roadside cart, not a restaurant, although with nice comfy chairs to sit in and many condiments. We got the Mexican roll, which, while certainly not Japanese, was extremely tasty, with cream cheese and avocado. Yum.

2. Speaking of food, the reason why we ended up finally going there was because we tried, for the 999th time or so, to go to a place practically across the street from our house called 80's Retro Burger. We saw the sign many times while walking to and from the grocery store and wasn't sure how accurate the words "80's", "Retro" or "Burger" were. In China, just because something was on a sign in English didn't mean the words had anything at all to do with what went on inside. (I found this rather charming.) Retro Burger has an odd business model: it's never open. Almost never. Once, just once, the stars were in alignment and we actually caught it open and got two tasty burgers (with avocado, naturally) and fries and basked in the ambience of the place, and it was indeed both 80's and retro. The wall were covered in designer jeans ads and album covers from Loverboy and Menudo, and a steady stream of 80's hits flowed from the CD player. As repulsive as I found the decade to live through, as a restaurant theme, it was strangely amusing. Nothing goes with el doble especial like "Dancing With Myself".

3. My school has decided its educational philosophy is doing exactly the opposite of what would make anyone's lives easier or what might be a result of common sense. Classes start Monday for the new semester. No one has any idea who is going to teach them or what classes they will have, and I can guarantee you they won't have books in stock for the students. Sigh. Language schools.

4. Pico wants to bite things 24 HOURS A DAY. Right now, he's chasing a grasshopper. I've been waking up to find him biting my chin.

5. Oh wait, now he's eaten the grasshopper.

6. Working my way through Barron's Spanish Now! Level 1 book. Me gusta. I think I should order Spanish Now! 2 as soon as possible. I also want Spanish classes to start back up, which means my school is going to make is as difficult for me to go to them as it can. I LOVE understanding things and being able to read and hold tiny little conversations in another language. I was so passive in China and Korea because I just couldn't say or understand much. No mas!

7. Mundo Fox has a neat little games page, where, among other things, it features one called "Jason, El Conjeo". This is Jason, the Bunny, and it's a rabbit with a chainsaw going on a killing spree in a little fishing village. I hate games that treat animals getting killed as fun and entertaining, but this is so silly I just have to laugh. http://www.mundofox.com/mx/juegos/birmania/jason

I made - dare I say it? - tamales.

And they were GOOD.

Tamales, I discovered, are the dumplings of Mexico - something you make with the whole family during the holidays. So when we went to Alsuper yesterday, there was this humongous display of tamale-makin's - corn husks, cans of hominy, and instant maseca mix, which is corn meal with all the good tamale-dough stuff already mixed in.

I already (thought I) knew the basics of tamales, and here was all we needed, except a pot. You need a steamer for tamales, and we didn't have any way to steam.

After deciding it was worth the expense (the tamale ingredients were themselves incredibly cheap), we bought a nice big pot with a steamer rack, and the tamales were GO.

Making the dough and the filling was super easy. The dough recipes always call for lard, and not only did I not have any, there was no way I was going to use any, so I used plain ol' soybean oil and it was fine. I also used about four cups of veggie broth made with vegetable bouillon, tomato-chipotle and tomato-garlic. I used beans and some leftover rice for the filling (too late I realized could have used TVP), soaked the corn husks, made some ties. The only tricky thing was actually filling the tamales; I kept making them too big and stuff squirted out the ends. I finally started getting the hang of it, (Kevin made some good ones, sensibly folded over at both ends, but no, I had to be traditional and leave one end open) and then we steamed them. They take a while to steam (1.5 to 2 hours), but it's pretty low-maintenence - you just check them every once in awhile to make sure the water hasn't boiled away completely.

After two hours, we ate until we were full and still had enough left over for a tasty lunch today. And I only used about half the masa mix. Cost (including the whole bag of corn meal): about $3.

I have had a rather strange past three days.

December 12 is a holy day known as Our Lady of Guadalupe, or, as they say in Mexico, Dia de Virgen. It celebrates the visitation of Mary to Juan Diego in Mexico, where she left an image of herself on Juan's cloak that is still bright and clear to this day. There's a huge basilica in Mexico City where they still have the cloak, and Our Lady of Guadalupe is popular indeed. She's wonderfully popular in Texas as well. thanks to Mexican immigrants (and I do mean THANK YOU), which is good, because the painting is incredibly beautiful and Texas needs all the help it can get.

All right. Then Dia de Virgen in Mexico should be quite the hapy day, no?

Well, not for me.

I'm trying to see this all as chances for my personal growth and development, i.e., God making me into a better person. And I'm glad he cares enough to spend so much time making me better. All the same, I'd like a little rest now.

It actually started Thursday when the taxi slated to pick me up at my apartment and take me to my morning business class never showed up. This was not my fault, but nevertheless irritating, especially since I knew everyone was trying to figure out a way it WAS.

Then, Friday. A holy day, no classes scheduled, should be great. Yes?

No.

We planned to go to Mass, which in theory was not a difficult undertaking. It being a holy day of obligation, there were a bunch of extra classes scheduled, one at 8 am, 12 pm, 6 pm, and 8 pm. I passed on the 8 am one because Kevin couldn't go, thinking we'd have plenty more chances.

Nope.

I went to Spanish class and had a good one, except oue teacher informed us that not only was this the last class until January, she wasn't coming back. We'd get another teacher then. This is standard stuff and I was pretty much expecting it, but it still made me want to cry to lose my Spanish teacher. She helped me so much.

Then it was confirmed that we had to (ugh) go out and hand out flyers for the school, starting at 12:30, so the noon Mass was out. I'd been told about this in advance, but it still didn't make me happy. I was even less happy when we all went out and I finally figured out that "handing out flyers" was a euphemism for "darting around in traffic". We took four sides of a major intersection and had to go up to cars when they stopped and hand flyers out to anyone who would take one. I'd somehow pictured merely standing in more or less one spot on a pleasant pedestrian promenade, not jumping up and down off a traffic median and hobbling among cars. The people themselves were kind and polite, much more so than Americans would have been, but I was in a foul mood. Also, this went on for two hours. My knee was in a foul mood as well after an hour, and when the torment finally came to an end, I was limping badly, even with Kevin taking most of the work and leaving me to only cover one side of the road.

We did go to a tasty Chinese buffet, though. Nothing beats real Chinese food, but it was a good try.

SO we planned to go to 6 pm Mass, still a little tricky as Kevin had a class from 7 to 9, but doable - until we got a call asking me to take over for another teacher at the same place. No way could I hobble back and forth to church, make it back before 7, and still be in any shape to teach.

Luckily, class went well, although the taxi scheduled to come back for us never showed and we had to hail our own. BUT God showed his mercy - there was a taxi stand right across the street and we had an amusing ride listening to commercials for Dee Snyder's "House of Hair" radio show. Of all the things I pictured myself doing later in life when I was a snotty little thirteen-year-old watching Twisted Sister videos on MTV, living in Mexico, teaching English, and hearing Dee Snyder while riding in a taxi was not one of them.

God is good.

Lest you worry about the state of my soul after missing a Holy Day of Obligation, I assure you I went to confession this morning. In Spanish, making it the third foreign language in which I have gone to confession. I actually did it in Spanish, too, with a little preparation via Spanish Dict's online translator.

Oy.

And a word about confession in Mexico: the priest was gentle and kind and confession was wonderful as always. But I have NEVER seen a line of people waiting for the sacrament like I have here. Two lines, across the foyer, up the stairs, out the back. Teenagers, older people, children (I saw one kid, obviously making one of his first confessions, get scared and chicken out), everybody. And it's not just because it's Advent: Kevin went alone several weeks ago and said it was like that then, too.

People taking confession seriously. VIVA MEXICO!

I had the presence of mind to remember to bring the camera today when we made our trip up Calle Francisco Villa to go to Mass, so I've snagged a bunch of cool new pics of Chihuahua and our new parish, San Antonio de Padua.


Go to Hola Mexico (link somewhere in my sidebar) to see them all in their glory (more pics of The Boy to come soon).

One of the many wonders of Mexico is that Fox Mundo shows Simpsons episodes five times a day during the week. I try to catch it as often as I can to improve my español, of course. REALLY.

Therefore, I have had occasion to notice some things about the Simpsons in Spanish/Mexico:

- name changes. Homer is Homero, Armand Tamzarian is Armando Pereda, Baby Gerald is Carlito, and I have yet to figure out what they renamed Chief Wiggum but it ain't Clancy.

- the better an episode it is, the funnier it is in Spanish.

- instead of putting the meanings of sign in subtitles, a guy with a calm voice comes on and reads the signs.

- In the "Lisa's Sax" episode, when Homer & Marge are trying to get Lisa into a tony preschool and the director says they only give scholarships to minorities, Homer begins speaking Spanish and then says, "Ah so" in faux-Japanese when she turns him down. In Mexico, Homer begins speaking Italian and then just says, "Ah Dios!" I am on Bumblebee Man watch; I don't know if he will speak is his usual Spanish in the Spanish episodes or if his language will get changed. Wait and see.

- 'burlesque' in Spanish is 'boorl-es-kee'.

In general Mexican-TV-watching news, I have also discovered that movies here, at least western movies, are not cut. At all. I learned to say, "Shut up" and various other colorful expressions from a few minutes of 8 Mile (called Road of Illusion) yesterday, and a few weeks ago they showed Boogie Nights, and let me tell you, they didn't cut a thing. Not even...you know.