No Delta-Wing Has Been Here Before

6:30 came early. Practically before the dawn cracked. Granola, yogurt and fruit accompanied by a small swallow of coffee was to fuel the hike. Everything takes longer than expected here, so we didn't actually leave the house until like 7:40. Jose was wearing Zach's shorts in which he felt considerably uncomfortable. No one here wears shorts, and he said he felt like he was wearing a kirt. By that he meant kilt, but skirt would have communicated the jist. We snuck past snuki and through the neighbors front yard straight into...town. Yes, although it seems like we are in the country driving out here, just beyond the neighbors house is town. Concrete galore. We walked to the left and then directly ahead. We walked, and walked, and walked. Then we turned right. And walked directly ahead. We walked and talked. Then turned right again and then left and then went straight. It was easy to tell where we were going. It was where the huge mountain was. Our journey cleared out of fields and opened up to the base. I still had my jacket on at this point, and was comfortable. We determined that the only path we saw - which led in a straight line to the top - was going to be too steep and so we decided to take a little trail and find our own way. We skipped around some mud pointing out various tracks - dogs, donkeys, cows. At one particularly interesting track Jose crouched down and exclaimed with all sincerity "Some one has been here before. And that person is wearing Adidas!" It was just too much, the expression, the pride in his eyes shinning from behind his strikingly Harry Potter-ish glasses. I laughed and laughed and laughed. He looked at me confused - and told me. "Kim! That was real, it was not supposed to be a joke." This is when Zach informed him that sometimes I just laugh - especially at "mi hermano" who is not funny. I defended you Cade - as best I could through gasps of laughter. And I will have each and every one of you know that Zach did laugh at Jose's discovery. :) We were still gaining altitude, weaving around little shrubs, scrambling over rocks and trekking on. At some point in the journey the trail evaporated - or disintegrated perhaps. Nevertheless the going was fine. There wasn't anything too arduous in front of us. But our progress was relatively slow, as this was a good climb. The pace was fine and we were greatly enjoying ourselves, and the occasional glace behind to see how far we had come and how small the town was getting. (Imagine best Mr. Bean impression here) Suddenly... we came to a halt. The terrain had changed drastically. The occasional shrub had turned into a wall it seemed - of surprisingly thorny and daunting bushes. Slower now we pressed onward. Zach leading the way sort of stomping a trail, I following closely - but not close enough to get slapped in the face by the branches when they whipped back. And Jose - wait where is Jose? And then I hear it. A mixture of surprise, frustration, and a gallant attempt at maintaining a positive attitude. "WAHHA this plant will strip me naked!" We turn to see Jose completely on his own in what looks like a sink hole of thorns (side note - I can hardly type for the tears in my eyes and the bouncing of the computer from the laughter at the memory of this). He was not at all following us but instead "Trying to find my own plan" That plan had landed him in quite the mess - every time he tried to move, one thorn would grab his blue stretchy kirt while another stabbed a free appendage. He would tug at the kirt only to have his arm stabbed, his head would then shoot up eyes wide and mouth in a perpetual OWWW shape. He would disappear slightly once again and some rustling would be heard and then his face appeared once again. The fight in his eyes was tremendous. And low and behold Jose emerged. Rubbing his legs and expressing his wish for his long pants. He managed to work his way over to follow us as we once again started forward. We paused a few times trying to calculate the best route. We were probably 50 meters from the top of one of the little peaks - from where our plan was to follow the ridge to the highest high. With every step the brush thickened. We were advised by our native friend to "If you see a poisonous plant...keep stomping it" Thank you Jose. Zach was now spending five to ten stomps trying the clear each step. Now 15 or 20. Jose suggested we sing "To make this trip more pleasant." He couldn't think of any songs except for "Ring of fire" Maybe his legs were still stinging from the thorns. Now 50 stomps. Now 100. And then it happened. The wall was 7 feet tall. We could see over it where the ridge was, but to the right and the left and even behind us it seemed we were surrounded. Some sort of mesquite breed. With tiny little thorns - sharp little buggers. We tried to go through, tried to go over, tried to go around, tried even to go under. But to no avail. We humbly accepted our defeat (20 minutes later) disappointed to have come so close, but worn and content with the nice progress we did make, we turned back to get to a spot with bushes shorter than our necks so we could take some pictures. And then we started down. For those of us without Aaron Brown ankles, going down the mountain is almost as laborious and definitely more precarious than going up. Jose flitted about jumping off edges that made me turn green, and urging me to do so as well. I opted out of the broken ankle prescription in favor of a slightly less risky walk of switchbacks. At one point Jose asked us if we had brought our delta wings. Unfortunately we all forgot to pack them in the sack. Neither Zach or I could- for the life of us- think of what a delta wing was. And so it must have been a combination of our befuzzled faces that got Jose explaining. A delta wing is like a hang glider. Jose decided to almost demonstrate how our journey would be if we could then just "Jump!" Fortunately he slid only one foot off a rock and startled himself enough to say "OH I almost did" From then on he was a little less bouncy. We made it back down to the fields. Took a picture next to a Mexican scarecrow, and trudged home.
We arrived and then I left. To get tortillas and salsa; I will not try here to speculate on how far the trip was but it was certainly far enough to make me not so excited to walk to town to get the vittles. I returned, crashing my delta-wing into the couch. Marina prepared enfrijoladas and they were marvelous. We lazed around for a bit and Jose went to his house. I opted to seize the sleep that fled from me this morning...
We went to town and met the adolescents. Oti was there. We waited, waited and waited. A few others came. I haven't had very many object lessons come to mind, and this has been disconcerting for me because I want this time to be meaningful for the kids here. I walked around and found two old blankets. What better object for the Exodus than chariot races in the auditorium. So we began and and everyone seemed to have a good time. I then gave them the book of Exodus in 17 minutes. I prefer telling the story over reading verbatim out of the the text.
Afterwards Zach went to the classroom building for a mens bible study, and I played hacky-sack with Oti. When she had to go, I settled back into crocheting until Lulu came to get Pedro and Miguel (her sons) and we talked for the remainder of the time. She is a really neat lady. She has worked very hard to make a comfortable life for her sons, and they are very good sons to her. Her husband left them and does not provide any support, but Lulu had a very good job for 18 years working in the archeological industry. She talked of her journey to the church. Her brother Felix introduced her and she brought her sons. They are all relatively new (perhaps a year and a half) Pedro and Miguel were both baptized on Mothers day of last year - she said that was the best gift a mother could ask for. I too was baptized on Mothers day. We thought this was a neat and unique thing to share. Once the men were finished, they gave us a ride out to Gerardo's house. When we got there it was a full house. Gerardo and his wife Alma Rosa have two children - their daughter is married and has a little boy of her own (who was quite entertaining). Their son Toti is 15 or 16. They were all sitting in the living room talking and watching the baseball game on TV. There is a kind of "world series" going on in central and south america. Oaxaca's baseball team was playing (in town) in the semifinals. They won the game (much to everyone's excitement) A smeal (small-snack-meal) was prepared for us - Hot Dogs with diced tomatoes on top, and tomato sandwiches. And sprite (it is clear when bought in 3 liter bottles).
I had coffee as well, and gelatin. We sat eating and watching the game, joking and enjoying Gerardo's grandson and his shy antics. When the game finished we had watched the end of a very strange movie with Pierce Brosnan and Liam Neeson, former fleeing from the latter in the desert while the former shoots the latter, then gives the latter the gun to shoot him, but instead the latter ops to die, yet the former helps the latter to his feet and they walk off in different directions the former throwing a Bowie knife into the ground. Like I said, strange. It was during the credits, which I'm not certain were due, that I was called to preach.
My audience was none other than Gerardo's sister-in-law and her son who are Catholics. Gerardo invited then to ask me any questions about protestant faith they had. Thankfully they were a bit shy at the beginning, giving me a brief opportunity to gather myself, but they asked sincere questions about infant baptism, the Old Testament and I was able to share some of my stories and experience. I was asked about miracles and forgiveness of sin; it was quite a doctrine check on my part. I very much wanted to smooth the rocky path Gerardo had paved for them. The first road is always rocky but must be done and is probably the hardest work, the one who comes after is very grateful for the path established. The night ended amicable with the conversation having been a dialogue. Gerardo and Toti gave us a ride back to the house as it was approaching one o'clock. It was a long and beautiful day.

Jesus dice: Don't Spit Nor Throw Trash.

Dreamer's Log: I have never in my entire life so earnestly and fervently with such desperate and persistent longing desired the permanent and ultimate demise of any living creature ever as such did I feel for one dog who without regard for time of night nor the audible ability of any passer or sleeperby proclaimed his own stupidity for hours without cessation. With such an intensity, peaking with the internal soul-shattering scream, did I desire said offender to be the paint on a 18 wheelers' wheels' palette, to be consumed by the very dirt and poo it was standing in, to be snuffed out completely, for his entrails to become his extrails, for a wormhole to open up and send him to an alternate universe where he would be forever tormented by his own wanton and profligate groanings, cries and otherwise obnoxious noise-making. Having that off my chest, I now feel better.

The prospect of Tortas from Gerardo's stand was beckoning us as we awoke. Our departure was not so hasty as to prevent a bit of blogging and gathering of the things we would need for the bank et cetera et cetera. We boarded the bus and found seats directly behind a decal of a Caucasian Jesus who was bearing a sign asking us to please not spit or throw trash. We rode into town right up to Gerardo's stand. He was not there, but was on the phone with the nice lady behind the counter when we arrived. Zach spoke to him and we were invited to his home after bible study on Friday night. Zach ordered us tortas and coffee. The tortas are a sandwhich made on a big roll with quesillo and meat and jalapenos and avocado and tomatoes. You can choose the meat you have - we both opted for a sort of ground sausage (chorizo). After our brunch we walked to the graffiti wall that presented messages of social well being, one main theme being gender equality and the cessation of domestic abuse. Jose was supposed to join us and he arrived after a bit and we set off to the Llano to pay a mysterious electric bill that appeared on the gate of the house.
After a quick stop at the bank that required a passport to change bills, we arrived at the office of the electric company. They have touchscreen machines to guide you through the payment process, but after scanning the bill we received with the threat of having our electricity shut off for a month, we discovered the bill had already been paid. We stopped by the bus station to see how much a ticket to Puerto Escondido was - something to the tune of 280 pesos one-way (not a bad deal). Jose mentioned there are vans that run daily to a town that is 40 minutes from Puerto and are cheaper than a bus. So we went to the van place which is further past the Zocalo than I have ever been on foot. Kimb was on the prowl for fabric to do some sewing and crocheting while we are here, and Jose pointed out some different places where these items could be had.
We made it to the van place and found out that the trip is about 150 pesos. I can definitely see this trip taking place. Just 3 or 4 days in the sun on the beach, in the surf, eating octopus...
Jose left to see his mom, and we ambled our way back toward the Llano, since we were to meet Jose at the church building at 5 (giving us just over 4 hours to kill). We stopped and at a stand where they had horchata in a plastic trash can so I got a liter. Unfortunately they put cantaloupe in it before I could stop them. Horchata is a sweet rice water drink not normal or traditionally prepared in a trash can. Even though I threw down 3/4, I returned it to the place from whence it came; that's probably the last time I'll drink out of a trash can, probably.
We went into the fabric place and spent an hour (probably more) looking, feeling and smelling the fabric. We got 3 sq meters of flannel for less than $5 with two shirts for me in mind. We didn't find any fabric that Kimb wanted to make a dress out of but we'll keep looking (I've never been so excited about flannel before in my life). We stopped also at a crochet and knitting store and bought a hook and some yarn to make a tam. We stopped for some Michoacan ice cream, Kimb having the cookie and strawberry for me, both of which were good. We decided to go to the Llano and sit on a bench and rest awhile before meeting Jose at the church. It was the most comfortable iron wrought bench ever. About that time a huge limb fell (off of or out of?) from an enormous tree not 15 meters behind us. I'm glad it wasn't above us because I wasn't about to share my iron throne with any amount of wood and leaves.
During our otherwise peaceful sitting siesta. I noticed a young girl ride by on a bike. 10 minutes later an old man rode by on the same bike. My first thought was, "What a crooked old man to steal a bike from a little girl!" but then a bit of rationality kicked in and I assured myself that he somehow knew the girl; that's when I came to appreciate the old man. Here I don't use the phrase old man as to denigrate or sentimentalize a person, this person who has seen so many years because as I watched him ride this kids-sized bike he smiled, and weaved, racing around trees, up small ramps, and around the park, he rode in circles, with one hand, enjoying the breeze of movement and the movement of life. It was here I was reminded that "it's just like riding a bike." He hasn't forgotten, and though he may have been a faster, more daring and better balanced bike rider one day long ago, it doesn't matter because he is a master bike rider. Even now he shows his skill not in some need to prove his worth or ability, that has been done, but to enjoy the simple pleasure of one more ride. I marveled at this man long after he and I were both gone and wondered if ever I could, in some way, be like that. Yet, he astonished me further. Having returned the bike, he walked alongside a young boy with a skateboard/scooter. It was a small skateboard with a pipe and handle extending from the front so one could ride it like a scooter. The old man did not ask to take a ride on the expansive flat surface, no the light in his eyes, visible from 30 meters, and the bounce in his step carried him to the top of the ramp. Now don't here overestimate the old man it was a handicap ramp not over 6 inches tall, dropping over a distance of 4 meters, but do not underestimate him for this was his first ride and he put much at stake to do so. He bravely mounted the board and took a light kick-push down the ramp, he wobbled having both feet on the board and had to step off and stop to keep his balance but he made it down the ramp, a champion. I think it is one thing to compete against other people who are willing to do the same thing and win, and it is completely different to enter an arena none other would and come out victorious. This man, old man was the latter. I couldn't believe it.
We met, not Jose, but Miguel at the church who turned us up the street to meet Jose and company at the pool hall. En route we passed a restaurant owned by a woman from the church. She invited us in for a cool lemonade which we did not pass up. After a short sit we continued up (literally) the road and came to the pool hall. Jose wasn't there, but his cousin was. We started a game without him after hearing he was on his way. The good ole stripes and solids. Five or six or maybe seven games were completed (Jose showed up after the first) and by this time it was nearly 7:30. We walked with the gang back to the bus stop (by McDonalds - the only one I have seen in this area) The guys waited for a bus back towards their houses while Zach and I boarded a bus to Cafe a Pan. A coffee shop on the way to Tule where we wanted to buy beans from. We were there just a few minutes before 8 and glad to see that the shop was still open. We bought a Liter (or maybe a kilo?) of beans for about 11 dollars. Almost the price of a ticket to the beach... Then we walked a short clip to the Tlyuda lady and enjoyed a meal and fresca. We managed to hail yet another bus to Tule. We were really pretty chilly at this point. WEATHER NOTE for all you interested in that sort of thing. It has been barely 80 degrees here each day, and gets down to the low 60's at night. It rains maybe one little storm each day, but apart from the first few days, we have had a good bit of blue sky and sunshine. It is really wonderful - we will be very spoiled coming back to the muggy 90's. (thats an interesting thought in relation to the era...) Anyway, the sun had already set, and as we waited for the bus it was pretty nippy. We boarded and I had my first adventure moon walking. At least thats what I assume it might feel like. Lifting one foot to take the average step (what 3.5 or 4 feet) and instead covering a distance of half-a-bus-length. I practically flew to the back seat and was thankful no one had already occupied it. We sat chatting about nothing at all, giggling (at least I was...as usual...even though Cade isn't here life is still pretty funny) and suddenly a man two rows in front of us puts up his hand as if to wave to us. He gestures (with a full hand - no lone fingers) twice - smiling at us and then turns away. A few moments later we realize he is trying to assure that we pay attention to the stops so we don't miss Tule. Zach is very good at navigating the city and we haven't been lost yet, so I don't worry, but am thankful for the nice gestures of this man.
I can't imagine being here without Zach. It is interesting the dependence and trust I am learning. It is one thing to trust someone when you have confidence from a previous knowledge or completion of such a task as that you are entrusting to someone else. But when you have zero confidence, experience or knowledge, it means something entirely different to trust. Zach is a brilliant man. His mastery of the language is something I am both astounded by and very thankful for. He has been excellent at not only getting us where we need to be, but translating for me, communicating for me, and ensuring that I do not feel alone in this strange tongued land. I am blown away by the variety and broadness of the Kingdom of God. To think that this entire world made of millions of tribes and tongues and nations is all his. Thanks be to God for the reminder of how big this world is, and how vast his Kingdom.
We make it home safe and sound, and get some laundry started while we wait for Jose to come. Our plans had been made for him to spend the night so we could all go hiking in the morning. He comes after not too long. He and Zach sit on the small couch and talk while I journal and continue the laundry. Jose is a good friend with such an earnest heart. I am encouraged listening to his thoughts and so honored hearing my husband listen and pour from his own heart and thoughts. It is a good night. One we try not to make last too long - as we are excited for our trek in the morning.

A large brown mass

Jose had said he would like to join us for breakfast, so we made ourselves ready for a relatively early guest. He didn't end up joining us for breakfast, but came closer to noon. We enjoyed a quiet morning and a meal of pancakes. When Jose did come, Zach shared pictures from his computer - a wide variety from Casey's Seniors to tubing and rock night oh ten. They brought out Aaron's trusty guitar and took turn playing tunes and looking up tabs on the internet. My first venture with coffee making did not go quite as planned. Latisha had warned me if I didn't get the cup propped properly the filter tank wouldn't drip and coffee and grounds would just start pouring out from the top. I made sure not to let that happen, but a few moments after I flipped the brew switch here came the cafe waterfall. Ah! Zach and Jose helped me investigate the problem and concluded I had forgotten a filter. I made a quick search and located the filters and started over. Kind Jose made sure to tell me that this pot of coffee was very good. Around 4 Jose had to leave for a birthday celebration. We decided we would walk to the bus stop with him and then take another stroll around Tule.

Update: Codename SNUKI.
A whistle woke me though I hadn't been sleeping hard, it was the kind of sleep that knows you are supposed to wake up for something at sometime but not so specific as to set an alarm clock. The whistle I knew was from the wood man so I hopped out of bed made it three paces and the went ahead and took her down to the floor as the black clouds of blood rush took control of the bridge. I thought it better to hit the deck that pass out and be hit by the deck. A short respite and I find shorts and T-shirt making my way outside to make sure it wasn't a dream whistle (which having stayed in Mexico a few days could happen, the official languages here are Spanish and whistling). Opening the door I found a pile of mud sitting outside the gate, odd I thought but then most of the road was mud. Then a curious thing happened the backside of this pile began to wag. It was only then that I faintly made out eyes, nose, caked ears and mud stump legs. SNUKI had returned after what appeared to be a long, hard night working the streets. I failed in this instance to give her the prodigal treatment, though I was a bit relieved to see her and hoped she learned her lesson. The wood guys were there so I gave them permission to do what they wood.

We walked to town with Jose, I listening to him about some of the more pressing matters in his life, feeling glad he is comfortable to share with me. SNUKI accompanied us on the walk and saying goodbye to Jose, we pressed on to take a trip around the tree (Tule is known for an enormous and ancient tree in the town square). SNUKI did her best to innocuously approach a young squatter, he was tottering back and forth chasing after his fleeing family; he didn't even see her approach from behind. His eyes widened with surprise and awe pondering for a brief instant the possibility of touching this wagging wonder. He quickly determined that would not be in his life's best interest so he set off slapping the pavement at mach 1. His mom caught him up in her arms, telling him to wave goodbye to us, after 30 paces he finally did so. We wheeled around back to the house, grabbed the things we need for the Bible study and went to the bus stop.
Where we were picked up by the same guy who gave us a ride the day before (small world, small city of 750,000). - "Central Periferico central" - Disembarking, we walked up the street only to be greeted by the honking of a car stopped at a stoplight; contrary to my personal set of rules I turned my head because the honking seemed to beckon me. Turning, there was Gerardo and Alma Rosa in their car. We ran over to them and greeted them, Gerardo telling us to get in, so we got in. We chatted a little bit and made plans to come by tomorrow for some tortas, and they stopped at the caseta (their stand where they sell foods and drinks). We said goodbye and went in search of a place to make copies for the study. We did so and arrived only 20 minutes late.
The study went great. Our time was topped off with a finale of a chicken and chili on top of tostadas, coffee and sangria flavored refresco. We walked Abuela to the place so she could catch a bus. Then we booked it to the bus stop to hopefully catch our bus to Tule. We made it with a few moments to spare, and rode the bus all the way to follow the brown dirt road home. It was quite dark, and we stepped lightly trying not to trod in too much mud or otherwise. Fortunate, indeed we were.

Pygmies y La Santa Biblia

Update Codename: SNUKI
Yesterday (the day of the Guelaguetza) we had the doors open in the house and a peace offering crossed our threshold. With large unassuming eyes and the gait of a church mouse entered the notorious wing-thief. She casually meandered until we firmly asked her to go outside. Minutes later the same dance appeared and exited to the same music. Little did I understand the craftiness of her infiltration, as she had manage to trespass and even claim a small beachhead just inside the side door. A small step but one I know could lead dastardly deed of daring do. More to follow...

The day began with the late rising of the sun (or maybe we were late), and Marina the housekeeper for the Serranos came. I stepped out of our room to meet her and found myself standing in wet. I followed this trail of wet to the bathroom, to the sink with the broken pipe, to the sink with the broken pipe that was running water down the drain and into the floor. I almost panicked. I knew it hadn't been on for long because I had left our room earlier that morning and there was no water, but knowledge is nothing when your cup runneth over into someone else's floor. I turned the knob to know avail, I emptied the bucket in the shower and replaced it to catch more water, but still the current is strong, finally I kneel before Marina and beg her help, she calmly fords the river (while I with my Indian guide choose to caulk and float), approaches the sink and turns the knob ever so slightly toward the on position cutting off the flow and saving all insect life that lives on the bathroom floor as we know. Nothing says good morning like trying to decide whether to barricade yourself with in your room or try and build an ark with your heart-rate jumps to 215.
Marina is a wonderful cook as I remember from last year, and I wanted to learn something of her cuisine if only the basics, so I asked if she would show me how to prepare Juevos Mexicanos. She was happy to do so, and I was happy it was so simple: onion, tomatoes, jalapeno, salt and eggs. With tortillas and salsa it is a breakfast favorite.
After our morning ritual of email checking and blog writing, we decided it would be kind for her and good for us to take a walk down to Tule with SNUKI, besides we had a couple of errands to run: delivering a ladder and some magazines to a neighbor and mail a postcard. We made our deliveries with no problems and walked around the plaza. Many vendors were our with their wares on display, and while we were passing a particularly eclectic shop we were ambushed by three natives, pygmies perhaps by their sizes, who danced death around SNUKI. Bursting with anxious hesitation yet overcome by curiosity, their little hands would reach out to touch the quivering mat of curls. On contact they would jerk back with exultation of delight calling to more of their clan to come behold their courage. Another approached fear pale in his eyes as he tentatively asked the sky, "Muerde?" (Does it bite) With a nod of assurance that it does not bite (that we know of) from the sky people (that's us), he leaped with a determined ferocity to pat the crown of the now deified SNUKI. Lifting her nose to examine her worshiper, set him reeling backward falling with a mixture of honor to be deemed worthy as a sacrifice to the pagan goddess teeth but grateful for having escaped a painfully slow and no doubt halitonical death (from the derivative halitosis). Alas, it was time for the great goddess to move on, but following in the example of all good leaders of nations when the meet a new God the chief crouched and asked of the sky people, "Como se llama?" I stepped forward with this pagan deity on a leash and proclaimed to the people, "SNUKI, se llama SNUKI!" and they bowed low to the ground with fear and trembling....... actually they just waved and yelled see you tomorrow.
We wheeled around to the house where I settled in to a book and Kimberly wrote in her journal. We had a late lunch and spent time tooling around the house, Kimberly instructing me on a few of the quirks the house of which I was still unaware.
Leti had taught me how to wash and prepare vegetables so as to not receive Montezuma's Revenge by consuming them. It was 2 hours until we were to be picked up to go to bible study at this point, so I set into my task, knowing it would take a bit of time. I washed out the sink - scrubbing with soap - first, and then filled the shining basin with tap water. (this seems counter productive, when the water from the tap is the very source of the problem) But nevertheless I followed my instructions. A cap full of bleach was added to the water, as well as some drops from the tiny dropper perched by the window. I mixed this around with my hand, rinsed any dirt or large particles from the lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, cucumber, broccoli, apples, and grapes (in the other half of the sink) and then set them into their soak bath. The water covered everything nicely. About 30 minutes later I took everything out, rinsed (with drinking water this time) and patted them dry. I then stored the treasures away in the refrigerator. More journal-ing, more reading. Then it was 10 minutes until we were to be picked up. I changed my clothes and freshened up, and again picked up my journal to wait a few minutes for our ride to come.
Flor and her husband are relatively new to the church. They host a small bible study at their home on Monday nights. (this week it was moved to Tuesday so that Zach and I wouldn't have to miss out because of the Guelaguetza) The study starts at 8, but since neither of us had a clue as to where we were going, Flor said that she would pick us up at the Serrano's house at 7:30. At 7:50 we hear a car pull up and someone whistle. Zach hops up to see about it (it is pretty dark at this point) It is a worker who is helping with the neighbors yard. He needs the neighbors number - which we dont have. We settle down, Zach buries his nose back in Pi, I sit slightly on the edge of the couch, minutely concerned that something has happened to sweet Flor. 7:57, another whistle. Zach again hops up this time to find that the worker wants to unload the wood and tools he has for the neighbor in our yard and then pick them up in the morning. Zach helps, I hold Snuki on the leash so that she won't get out or get into too much business. She is excited to have activity going on, but I pet her and she calms down. It is 8:10 the Mexican phone rings. Flor is calling to say she is on her way. Phew, I had begun to think we would have to go looking for her. And that would have been quite a daunting task considering we have no idea where she was coming from. It is true what I learned in Missionary Anthropology - my sense of time is much different than many places in the world. Flor comes and we manage to convince Snuki to stay although she desperately wants to come too. Flor speaks wonderful English, but I encourage her to speak Spanish so I can learn. Her husband, Miguel and Pedro are waiting for us when we arrive. We sit down to a study from Hebrews about following the shepherds and leaders of the church and respecting them for all the work they do. (I know this because Zach and I reviewed the lesson earlier in English) We (by we I mean they) finish up discussion and Flor tells us she would like us to stay for Coffee and treats - some kind of bread she wants to fix. We sit around the table while she prepares it. I can catch a lot of the conversation, and can hear improvement even in the few days I have been here. I opt not to try out any Spanish though. But rather settle into listening. Flor makes a really tasty bread - it is kind of like a croissant with quesillo and ham inside. She calls it pasta I think. Her two sons join us and as a group we eat 6 mini loaves. There is also a sweet bread and some lemon wafers to enjoy. We talk and laugh, and I am told I should visit Monte Alban before I leave Oaxaca. It is a site of ruins that is very famous in this area. Only 40 minutes from here. Flor pulls out some encyclopedia type books with pictures that are all about Oaxaca and the culture and the history. I look through them and the boys venture into the other room to play FIFA. Flor and I talk (in English now) about her life and her studies and her family. She is a really beautiful really neat lady. After a while we get back in the car so that they can take us home. When we get back it is almost 1:00 AM, Zach tells me he got pummeled at the video game and feels much less Mexican and slightly less masculine. Time for some rest.

Update: Codename SNUKI
Upon arriving home, the gate was ajar and SNUKI was gone. More as the story develops...

Gobs of Gobs and the Suspended Wave

Bugs are a part of life. But what on earth was the mosquito created for anyway?
We ran out of water. Water for washing dishes and showering and flushing. Not drinking water. It was only noon, but luckily we weren't going to be spending most of the day at the house anyway, and could turn the well pump on when we got back in the evening. Fortunate for us we had already showered and washed dishes. The journey to check the water level is not one for the faint of heart. The ascent begins by going through the door of the loft to the roof deck. Then one must balance on a 5 inch thick wall and jump up to grab the slanted roof. Shimmey up onto his (I elect not to do this) stomach and then step up and walk up the slant to the tank. From there its cake...until you have to come back down. Aye aye aye. We downloaded pictures, charged the camera battery, blogged, and got ready for our first venture into the city alone - To the Guelagetza. It's a short walk up the dirt road to the bus stop. We barely stopped before the bus did too. We hopped up as the bus began driving once again. Everyone here is nicer than nice, but it must not be custom to wait for your patrons to be seated or even secure footed before pressing onward. Zach payed for our ride. 4.5 pesos each. Riding on a bus is not as frightening as riding in a car. In fact, the bus is quite comfortable, once you are seated at least. The nice man in front of us told Zach where the best place to hop off (literally) would be. But first we stopped for more passengers who were also headed in the direction of the "Central" and also dropped a few off. The driver wanted a snack too, so we stopped in front of some sort of stand and the guy riding the door purchased a sandwhich sized bag of some sort of treat. Latisha had let me try this one out before the family left, so I recognized it. It starts out as a bulbous root, fat like a big onion, but colored like a potato, and with a single tap root looking thing. It is peeled to reveal a hard white interior, a texture mixed between an apple and an uncooked potato. It is pretty bland, but there is a special spice (kind of like Tony's) that is sprinkled all over it - giving it a nice blood red color. It is eaten in little strips like french fries. I must have had an odd look on my face when the bus driver purchased this, because he offered me a taste. I was kind of embarassed to have been starring, so I declined, as politely and un-flustered-ly as I could. Not a long while later Zach nudged me to get out of my seat and hurried me to the back of the bus. (fully in motion mind you) I pushed the button, but not until I was hanging on tightly. And the bus came to an abrupt halt, the door at the back opened and Zach said hurry, jump off. His feet had barely left the bus before it was 10 meters down the road. We walked back a short ways and crossed the street, headed down a cobble stone road/path towards the soccer stadium. Right off the main highway there was a little oasis. A pond with a grassy bank on one end, and back up to a 60-70 foot rock wall on the other. Our walk took us past a little playground, more shops and food stands, and then to the stadium. We had seats in section B3. As we came through the security check we were handed two straw cowboy hats with "Guelagetza 2010" on them. We were then given pretty cool T-Shirts, and pointed in the direction of our seats. We opted for seats a few rows back between a nice couple on my side and two women on Zach's side. We were only 45 minutes early this time, and saw a woman sing about Tuxtapec, and a band (with first-grade trainees) play. Then it was time for the dancing to begin. This time of year is kind of like a 4th of July, but lasts for a few weeks. There are different festivals and parties and things that happen each day from what I understand. It is a big tourist time. While we were sitting waiting for the show we saw two couples who were on our plane from Mexico City to Oaxaca. It's a small world. The show was to consist of 13 dances representing 13 cultures/cities/regions in the state of Oaxaca. Each had different costumes and different songs. It was really neat to experience such a cultural thing. I can't relate it really to anything in the United States. A little more than mid way through all of the performances the National Song of Oaxaca played, and everyone waved their hats and sang along. At first we didn't realize what was happening, but everyone had their hats in the air so we figured we should do the same. The gentleman sitting next to me leaned over and said "This is the national song." We were glad to join in.

Here are a few pictures:







When you think about it there are a few things that are common in the global community: family, music, pizza and The Wave. It was after the 6th inning (of 13 dance groups) that the section that held the general public became restless. During the exhaustive performance of one region's traditional wedding ceremony, the public decided it was time for something more rousing and participatory. It began in the section directly behind us and went the full length of the semicircle. One cultural additive was the applause made from the sections where the wave had past. It went back and forth for some 10 minutes drawing much attention from the field-level crowd, but regardless, the ceremony went on and on. Finally a deep voice came from heaven to address the swirling masses interrupting the narrator of the eternal wedding ceremony; the voice asked that all present act with a kindness and dignity that the Guelaguetza deserves and that they furthermore "suspender la ola." (Suspend the Wave). How classic.
As there were many powerful and fun dances bursting with color, rhythm and the thrust of the big band, I began to notice another theme. In many of the dances the dancer would carry something in one hand while they danced, many of these things being items associated with their specific region. Some would have tobacco, others pots, woven items, baskets of this and that, but little did I know that Oaxaca is the land of the guajolotes (gwa-ho-low-te). There was a quorum of dancers strutting their stuff with a live turkey in tow; some dances had two turks. Unbelievable, but quite entertaining.
The night flew on and some groups would tell jokes and I would understanding the opening lines and have no clue as to the punchline. The night ended with a spectacular fireworks display that lasted over 10 minutes. As they were dismissing certain sections to leave, I noticed that many of the dancers had come back on stage during the fireworks show and that some people from the audience were joining them, so I grabbed Kimb's hand and we climbed up on stage. I was able to take pictures of Kimberly with some of the different individuals, unfortunately no one with a turkey was out on stage.
We made our way out of the stadium, and found a taco stand across from the church. Having replenished our vitamen T, we found a taxi and made our way home. Kimberly got to sit in the backseat with two strangers while I got to share the front passenger seat with another guy. The driver seemed comfortable enough in his own seat by himself, just him. We made it home just before midnight and had successfully navigated our first day solos in Oaxaca.

B-b-b-bird-bird-bird-bird and The Word

One thing about Mexico (at least in my limited experience): no early service. If you've been you know and if you haven't you can chuckle like you have. Had the All-American breakfast Nestle's chocolate ball cereal, a comfort food from last summer, and lactose free room-temp milk. Coco (Jorge) gave me the rundown on a few items to keep an eye on, weedeater (don't get to use the machete this year to cut the grass (unless something happens to the weedeater)), well pump on the roof (I will not be checking the levels frequently and certainly not in the morning as it requires a grand amount of balance some 25 ft up in the air followed by a precarious climb onto a slanted wall), lights, breakers, and the rest of the regulars.
The family was packed and ready and we were on the road to church after I lifted a version of La Santa Biblia from upstairs. I was excited to get to see everyone at church particularly Gerardo and his son Toti as well as the other young people I was able to work with last year. Not many were there when we arrived but we greeted those that were, giving me the pride and pleasure of introducing my wife to them. Greeting everyone there is really important, so after making a precautionary sweep of the immediate environment, we stationed ourselves by the front door so as not to overlook anyone though there were few who passed by that I couldn't look over. Many friends and faces came through including Gerardo (Toti wasn't there), lots of young people as well. Service started and we sang many songs as well as my favorite Spanish hymns En la Cruz (near the cross). A sister was baptized that day. During Coco's sermon I couldn't help but notice the chirping of some innocuous (and I use that word (having just looked it up) because the church there could have service through a tornadic-avalanche with a 20 car pile up on top while class 5 rapids rush down the aisle toward the pulpit) bird. This bird called his friends in and after a while there was quite the aviarian (not a bird supremacy group) choir. It was at this moment the catchy title for today's blog popped into my head, clever I know.
After service we went outside to get a picture with the family before they left. I went to the adolescents class to set a time for an activity later in the week and shared a brief lesson about David being both a young shepherd, who had nothing and was of no importance, and a king who ruled over everyone, and while his station in life changed what he was to be about in relation to God did not. He had the same mission his entire life: to be faithful to God and His action here on earth. We then went and joined the college age group and listened to them talk about the last year and how they've grow, what they've done and what this group can do in the coming weeks.
After class we went with Jose and Isidro (two of the jovenes (college kids)) to have lunch at El Biche Pobre we order a Botana (sampler) and tried a few new things. I had a delicious limonada to drink. After filling ourselves to the gills we went walking in El Centro toward the Zocalo (town square). Many vendors were out and about because this is the high season for tourism particularly now because of the Guelaguetza (which is the cultural festival of the state of Oaxaca). We walked looking and listening, talking about things we might want to do or try while we are here. Coco's sister-in-law gave us tickets to show that night; a theatrical presentation of Donahi. The show wasn't until 8, so we stopped for a drink and a rest. Kimb and I had Italian sodas, mine Strawberry Kiwi and her's blueberry. We talked about this and that. I asked Isidro what he is doing right now with school or career; he is an architect (at 17 years of age), working in design. Jose and I are the desempleados and Kimb is going to school this fall. Jose asked me about my decision to be baptized and I told him my story; he asked Kimb and she related her's. I asked Jose about his and he shared and talked about the various struggles he had at the beginning in his decision and is having now. He looks back and realizes how little he new when he made the decision to be baptized and understands the importance of baptism, doubting some in degrees about his baptism. I shared a few examples from Scripture about times of doubt, and how God, who is all-providential, makes room for doubt in the relationship so that we can grow similar to a potted plant who needs more space or it will die. So God provides everything: life breath, love, companionship, guidance, confidence, room for doubt, tears and anger. He is El Shaddai the many breasted God.
Miguel and Pedro met us as we left Nuevo Mundo coffee shop, and we walked around a bit more. Zach and I got to go inside a Cathedral. It was very large, very beautifully decorated, and very empty. One elderly lady sat a quarter of the way down from the back. Gazing. Zach and I walked towards the front and sat for a brief minute in a pew on the left, I am thankful our God inhabits our hearts and not buildings constructed by man. As we walked out the guys (who were waiting just outside the doors) started hum-singing the wedding song. We laughed and skipped out to meet them (cheezy?) We continued our walk to where Pedro and Mike had parked, and stopped once more to sit on a short wall in front of Santo Domingo. This is HUGE. Mike tells me he works here, on the night shift every other night, as a guard. He tells me something about a little boy that runs through the halls. Being gullible is unavoidable when you dont understand a language very well. The thing is, I'm still not certain if a little boy runs through the halls or not. Regardless, we take a picture in front, and Zach and I decide we would like to come back some time later in the trip. Jose was especially excited about Zach's camera, and asked to take a few more pictures. The rest of us remained on our perch while he snapped candid shots. Shortly - after hopping up from the short wall - we continued walking back through some of the tents set up. At many of the little booths the vendors are actually making the items they are trying to sell. One woman was making really pretty necklaces - tying knots in some string to make neat designs and dangling a jewel from them. Pedro was price shopping for a bed spread. We found the car. Jose is putting something in the trunk. At first I am uncertian as to how we are all going to fit, and so I ask "Is Jose riding in the trunk?" Zach shakes his head no, but Mike says "What? Jose is Drunk?" We laugh and I tell them the Trunk is the back of the car. He still doesn't say it exactly right. We all pile in. I sit on Zach's lap, and we begin racing through town. We decide to go ahead and go to the soccer stadium (where the show is to be at 8) even though it is only 6. Anyone with a long history of car sickness would be wise to avoid Mexico at all cost. They tell me I will get used to it. My knuckles are perpetually white. Our parking selection is really close to the entrance, just a short walk down the sidewalk of a road that has become a mud pit (maybe it is under construction?) As we approach the stadium Zach and I laugh at the carnival rides, one of which (an upside down one) I admire and he shakes his head at me telling me it would certainly be the barf ride. Pedro notices us looking at the rides and asks me if I like things like that. I tell him I love rides and roller-coasters. He shakes his head and tells me "I want to be healthy this week" I laugh and ask him what he means - which leads into a story of how the last time he rode one of those things, he felt sick to his stomach for 3 days. We dont ride any. :( We walk on, zach in search of a bottle of water, and everyone laughing and joking. We stop to purchase water. Jose gets a black sprite (he assures us it is just the bottle that is tinted black - I remain skeptical) Zach gets water, and from behind me Mike (Miguel) boasts a cup full of orange drink that he has been given for free. I laugh and tell him to get me one if he is so astute at getting free stuff. He says I have to get my own because the lady will recognize him. We all get a little cup of orange soda. As we continue our walk to where our seats are, Zach steps in something quite unpleasant. Unfortunately for both of us, he doesn't realize it at the time. It isn't until we have been sitting for a few minutes that he sniffs and tells me he thinks he has had an unfortunate mishap. Mishap indeed. As he is trying to cross his legs the other way...he kicks me with the poo-shoe! AH!
The pre-show reminds me a lot of standup comedy. (not because I understand it, but because of the reaction Tio Larry is getting from the crowd. When we first come in he is dressed in drag. He changes costumes a few times, once to a Mariachi outfit, in which he comes to the side where our seats are, and Zach exclaims to me "Get the Camera. That looks JUST like Uncle Larry!" This is true. His facial expressions are fool proof. The next act is a real Mariachi band. Finally the performance begins. This is a neat show. The script is read (or perhaps a tape) over a loud speaker, and the dancers on stage are kind of acting out what is supposed to be happening. The story is sort of a Mexican Romeo and Juliet. The spirit dance at the end closes with a brilliant display of fireworks that are so close people have to actually dodge little balls of fire raining down. It is fantastic. Once the show is over the flood gates open and it is a mass exodus. It is easy to keep track of Zach at least. He and I are taller than most everyone. No one gets lost (unbelievably) and we walk back to the car. The mud pit is being explored by a family on a four wheeler. We survive without any mud-spray. Back in the car we drive towards a Tlyuda shop Pedro likes. At one point we are stopped (at a red light) behind two police cars. No one is moving in the space of the road for cars going the other way, so Pedro pulls out , races past the policemen, dodges out in between a bus and a car in a space that surely isn't 2 feet wide (why the long faces?) and out in front of traffic the other way. We survive. Not even a scratch. LAND! I could kiss the solid unmoving ground once we get to the Tyluda shop. Our orders are placed and we sit at the table inside I am asked how old I am. No one can believe only 20. I am an eighth of the way through mine when zach spills a salsa-fall of salsa on his kakkhi pants. Muy mal. Back in the car. First we head to drop of Isidro. I am still in Zach's lap, and trying desperately not to bump my head on the ceiling as we rocket over the topes. Once I do, and Pedro says "Careful" I tell him it is awfully difficult not to bonk my head with this Crazy driving. Aye Aye Aye. He thinks that is hilarious. Mike starts saying Drunk and Pedro Bonk. They have a wonderful time. And we are still flying at mach 1. I decide to try out my spanish. "Qual es la fecha de navidada?" Everyone laughs. I am trying to ask Mike when his birthday is, but instead I ask him what is the date of Christmas. I was thinking natal like prenatal which is because of my latin back ground, and the only n word I can come up with is Navidad! Oh dear. They teach me how to say it the right way. "Cuando es tu Cumpleaños?" First blunder. Second comes just before we drop of Isidro. There is a speed bump (tope) that has a speed bump on top of it. So I exclaim "Doble Tupe" Everyone laughs again. Thankfully Tupe doesn't translate into anything in spanish. The rest of the trip goes without a hitch. We are home before long, and ready for a good nights rest.

Adamsapple

Rest was very refreshing last night. I think the phrase "I was sleeping before my head hit the pillow" would apply here. We had breakfast with the family - biscuits, eggs and bacon accompanied by either coffee or juice. Emy told Zach "You are a monster!" after his second biscuit. But he ate 4 anyway. We all piled in the car and drove to the church to drop off some boxes and things, and then Jorge went to get automotive things finished and we went with Latisha and Emy to run errands. Our first stop was the ATM. Our first withdrawl in the thousands. We aren't high rollers. Since Jorge was going a separate way, we met up with Laureta and her son Jonathan (who is 6 (and definitely bright enough to be), but is the size of a 3 maybe 4 year old) to go to the market and the grocery and do the things we needed to do. Our first stop was a garage sale by two American couples who are a part of Wycliff Bible Translators. My gift from them was a book "Oaxaca - a Jem" a Oaxaca for dummies! :) The market is like first monday in Canton or the swap meet in Tucson or just a market for tourists. The vendors sell clothes and jewelry mostly. The grocery is a lot like walmart. There were a few fruits that looked like something off of Avatar, and one section of the meat department is not refrigerated but just has all kinds of raw meet out in big cardboard bins. (that isn't the only way to buy it, but many people do) We got produce and Latisha taught me how to wash it with special drops and bleach water. The rest of our purchases were an assortment of yogurt and granola, bread and of course pepsi. oh and marshmellows? After we finished at the grocery we drove to a chicken shop to pick up a roasted (rotisserie) chicken and sides - elbow noodles which are just known by the word for elbow, cactus and chilie peppers, and some steamed veggies. This is where our errands ended and the journey home began. Traffic is a different breed down here. Speed limits, stop signs and seat belts are not in existence. Zach and I were sitting in the back of the car (toyota camry maybe?) with Jonathan and Emy in our laps. Jonathan was scouring over an Eye Spy book, and Emy was playing mario kart on her nintendo D.S. The radio was on, and Latisha asked us "Is that too loud for your ears" Zach's instant reply was "No, but that chicken is too loud for my nose" Laureta thought that was pretty silly...and the giggles began. Some how Jonathan became entranced by Zach - his hair, his beard, his... adam's apple. Jonathan put his fingers on Zach's adam's apple and asked "Como se dice?" "How do you say this" I told him "Adam's apple" he repeated it back "adamssapple" (really fast with emphasis on the ss's - with a slight shrug of his shoulders) Okay, now for the complete picture. Jonathan is miniature but really bright, which is accentuated by the fact that he sports a smart looking pair of glasses - its a mix between completely adorable and hilariously nerdy. Well that was enough to make not only me laugh, but Zach and Emy too. Once he realized it was silly he would say "Otra ves." "again" and I would say it and he would repeat it, each time with a slightly more exaggerated shrug as if he was boasting that he could name this odd protrusion, and say it in such an intelligent way that we all would chuckle. He is quite the character.
We arrived safely at home and prepared for lunch, I filled my plate and asked for more salsa, always more salsa, always more tortillas (that's the best policy for any meal). I cut more chicken and found a rude and amusing projection. I've seen a roasted chicken or two and none of them had a tail of such magnitude, however after further examination and inquiry I had the wrong end of the chicken; the growth was in fact the neck. Nothing weird, just different.
The afternoon settled into blog editing, guitar playing, coffee drinking, and phone chatting interspersed with music listening and day dreaming. We left briefly to meet a neighbor named Judy and her two small kids. Judy goes for walks in the morning up a nearby mountain and has a picture on her phone of the sunrise with clouds filling the valley taken from above. I hope we can make the summit once or twice or many times this trip. We came back home and someone left the front door open. The armed sentry posted there was asleep and has since been court-marshaled, but if a chicken bone is a flag then our flag was captured even though it was cleverly hidden in the kitchen trashcan. The reconnaissance mission was completed by a solo operative: code name Suki. Suki is the family pet though she has been banished to the outdoors and has since been denigrated on charges of promiscuity, however she is an excitable and generally happy little pooch. It was out of the corner of my eye that I caught the mission walk (more of a fast jog) of Suki toward the kitchen. I thought it odd when she spent all of 4 seconds in the kitchen and then departed just as quickly, though on exiting I also noticed the remnants of a proud (and tasty) bird hanging from her yap. This made the rest of us excitable as we ran confused, wondering whether we should detain the culprit or go straight to damage assessment and clean-up (but we determined BP was to big for us). I opted for clean up while la culpable received a vicious verbal assault from 3 angles at ranges of 5, 18, and 33 feet. Undeterred and after a 4 minute respite, the ninja assassin now known as Snuki (Combination Sneaky and Suki) leaped into action and grabbed my neck, running for the door again; I found my voice and in my most authentic Spanish accent, dropped to a rich contra-bass level, I reprimanded the thief who was putting the finishing touches on my first chicken neck. Though it was a great personal loss, in time I will forgive her.
We walked to downtown Tule and found the meat shop and tortilla shop (two places we will frequent). We saw the Great Tree and everyone who was out and about. Menacing clouds begin to sweep through the valley toward us so we headed for home with sliced turkey and quesillo in hand (in a bag, in hand). Now, after a riveting round of Guitar Hero, we sit and eat sincronizadas and sip Mirinda (Pepsi-made orange drink). Everyone is packing, and Kimberly and I are just sitting and wonder what the next month holds.

Destinos y Conquistas

I left my cloud at 5:40 am. Not very early, just early enough to have made it to a full four hours of sleep as packing does take some time and generally some more time when done the night before. Dallas traffic was a warm-up for Oaxaca, and check-in and security went so smoothly I wondered if that was not foreshadowing for other stop-and-go laborious activity running too smoothly later. One small ordeal that should be shortened to 'deal since it was so insignificant; we didn't have our boarding passes from Mexico City to Oaxaca, so we went outside to the airline's check-in station, got our boarding passes, and passed back through security in time to have a torta and...
He stood a menacing 2'1 complete with pumpkin bib and pumpkin sized head that he would use to begin his drunken jog, with a tilt of the noggin' he would plunge forth with a swagger barely sufficient to keep him from eating rug. It was in this manner that he approached me and my beautiful wife. Casting a glance of supreme confidence at me as any Conquistador of Mexico would do with a slight disregard in his eye for what he saw, he stumbled forward to place his hand inexcusably and ever intentionally on Kimb's knee taking time for a slow stare first at me and then Kimberly. It took all I could to not punt this smirking 23 pounds of pud across the terminal, but I eyed him calmly and rested content and confident in my wife's commitment and satisfaction with our relationship. His guardians came to take him away but he would not budge, apparently stuck in a new addiction, as he was planted firmly in the ground unable to break the intoxicating contact between his grubby little mitt and my wife's flawless knee. What's more he locked eyes now glazed in the euphoria of a distant existence with me, as his people's beckoning became more fervent the more ground his little meat hooks covered leaving the knee and finding the thigh, Kimberly's confident laugh was all that held me in check as the tottering toddler was broken away from his enchantment by his smiling mother and whisked away with more than a half-liter of drool leaking from his chubby little pie-hole.
We left shortly there after and found our gate and found our plane and found our home for the next month. Nuestra destinación se hace nuestro destino.
Oaxaca is cold and grey...today at least, and apparently has been so for the past few weeks. Something about the tropical storms. I was instructed on the plane to respond "aprendo" when asked if I spoke spanish. "I am learning" I am. Learning that I am nowhere near as smart as Emy who can effortlessly transition from spanish to english and back again before I can rack my brain to remember what "llamo" means. She is 8. In customs I handed the kind lady my customs form and she told me to "push the button." It flashed a huge red sign. I was randomly selected for baggage search. Luckily it consisted only of setting my bag on the table so she could un-zip and re-zip it. Emy and Jorge picked us up at the airport, we flew through town (there is no speed limit here, it was explained to me that the "speed limit is...how would you call it...dumb" instead there are enormous speed-bumps. Ah. We spent about an hour at the house, drinking coffee and chatting. Then we went to the church where a group of the young men (Zach's age) were meeting to decide how they would divide responsibilities while Jorge was gone. Everyone is more than loving, more than welcoming, more than unreasonably (but thankfully) understanding of my insane ability to only speak one language. It is common, proper, respectful even to greet people with a handshake and a kiss on the cheek. It is really actually very nice. Our evening closed with hugs and a trip to the store for things for breakfast tomorrow. Then we stopped at the infamous tlyuda stand. Zach has told me over and over again how truly wonderful this experience is. I find myself somewhere between excited and desperately wondering "What is a tlyuda?" We stop alongside the road and step out in the drizzle (which is actually quite nice, although a wee bit chilly) to a stand covered with a tilted tarp. A kind woman is quickly and accurately spooning beans, spreading cheese and lettuce, slicing avacados and tomatos and altogether concocting a delightfully smelling "tlyuda" (its like a big quesidilla with guac and avacados and lettuce and tomatos and beans and quesillo(another type of oaxacan cheese)) it was indeed wonderful. We made it home at about 10. Leti gave me the tour and "run down on the quirks" (the coffee pot is broken so the big cup has to be tilted just right, the water will run out so the well has to be switched on for 20 mins in the evening, the dog is pregnant and since no one can remember or recall how long a dog's gestation period is we aren't sure if puppies will come while we are here or not, and the spiders on the wall stay on the wall, and they are friendly, they eat bugs...) Their house is BEAUTIFUL a really open plan, high ceilings, great tile, stucco. It is really a great place, and more than comfortable. Tonight ends with guitar hero having just been shut off, and goodnight hugs from Emy and Aaron (10). They are great kids. This is a great family. I'm excited and very grateful to be here.