Lazy Days

Been back to Baja for a week now and the pace has slowed considerably since I left.  Temperatures came down to where it's time to get out the big fluffy comforter for nighttime.  For the first time I wonder if M is warm enough in his doggie-bed outside at night.  Havent heard any crying or scratching at the door, so I guess he's good during the night.  E is done having a day job for the next few months or so and is spending most of each day studying and doing homework for a work-related class he's taking.  seems intense.  My homework on the other hand is currently stalled in the paperwork phase of project prep so I'm without daily studying for the time being! This freedom and both of us home means the days are passing lazily but they somehow still feel as though they're flying by. 

We took a walk down to the windy waterfront to see the tree (see pic) and decorations.  We gave M a bath.  Went to the beach with some friends, E speared some fish we plan to fry tonight.  Catching up on laundry.  Continued E's American Cultural education by making him watch "Wedding Crashers" - which he really enjoyed! One of our neighbors (we can't figure out which one) got a goose to guard their house, so we hear squawking sporadically throughout the day and night.  Our immediately to our left neighbors just moved in and have a very pretty older black lab, that looks like she could be M's mom.  She visits with us at the gate when we come and go.  Neighbor to the immediate right finally decided to tell us that earlier in the year she saw neighbors up the street pushing puppy M out into the street, trying to get rid of him.  So now we know sort-of where he came from.  I wonder if they realize the strikingly handsome well-behaved and adjusted dog they see in our house is the same scrawny puppy they abadoned.  Wow, lots of neighbor-related news to report.

Will try to be better about updating.  My two followers are hungry for stories, I'm sure :)

Distrustful Morning

Last night we had friends of ours over to visit and hear about their recent trip to the U.S. They managed to visit several cities and see lots of stuff in only a few weeks and their photos were gorgeous!  E and I listened attentively to their stories and impressions of the States and I was so happy for them that they felt welcome to America during their stay.  No crazy immigration, customs stories.  No racism poking its head into their trip.  During these last few years, I've listened to many different friends talk about their recent experiences in the States and I'm always happy to hear that they were developing positive attitudes about Americans and the country.  However, a little part of me remains insanely jealous.  That these friends, while all intelligent, employed contributing citizens of Mexico were able to get travel visas without issue.  And Edgar isn't.  Then my anger turns towards the government.  Not because we have borders, or that we "thoroughly" screen visa applicants (some more than others...).  But that the U.S. government makes it so complicated and difficult.  Having to wade through paperwork cascades on E's last visa interview left us spinning.  It's a wonder we arrived at the moment of the interview at all. 

But the whole process left me speechless.  Countless examples of the government trying to make it absolutely as difficult as possible to merely come and spend tourist dollars.  The filing fee is crazy high for most people wishing to visit.  Then there's conflicting information about which form you need, and what supportive paperwork you need to present as evidence.  The actual in person interview requires a trip to the embassy in a major city (which some applicants may have to WALK to) and another obscene amount of money to be, in E's words, "treated like a farm animal" once inside the embassy.  Add to this equation that the paperwork is in ENGLISH. and not layman's terms either.  What does the average citizen without an american girlfriend/interpreter do?

Hard to believe that with this awful experience a few years ago, we're almost poised to do it again.  And we're the lucky ones.  We have the resources to run around to complete the paperwork, pay the fees, arrive to the embassy.  And I like to think too that we have strong enough convictions and characters to withstand the humiliation of the process and the possible rejection.  I try not to be cynical about the U.S. government.  I would love to believe that it's doing great things and helping lots of people.  I love my country and all that it's allowed me to do, the priviledges it allows me in the world.  But I can't help but begin to distance myself and feel rejected by a government that doesn't let me live the life I want.  Especially since this life doesn't hurt anyone, doesn't break the law and aims to contribute to a better world.

Happy Campers

With E's birthday on Saturday, we were hoping to get a short camping trip in to celebrate but with his work schedule it doesn't look like it's going to happen.  So I was looking back at some camping photos from previous trips.  By sheer luck, I got to spend my birthday this year not only in Baja but also waking up on a gorgeous beach.  We spent the day fishing, snorkelling and lounging around.  E is a genius at "cooking" on the beach, with or without a flame or single burner stove.  He's taught me lots - how to keep the top of the cooler (your work surface) intact as you realize you have to open the cooler for a forgotten ingredient, how to wash dishes with sand and the art of cooking in a single pot. 

2011 Birthday-Morning View!



M's first Road Trip & Camping Trip - we were alone on this beach for 2 days.
Saw Dolphins from the beach every few hours!



One of my all time fav's - washing dishes.
M was still afraid of the ocean then

An Oldie - this is E and mine's very first trip camping together. 
This is the same trip as the "octopus in its own ink" incident for those who know it!!!

Fishermen cleaning lunch  - my first camping trip with the whole banda (group) - 2008

So much fun to have everyone there!

Hum-Drum Week

Compared to our dive adventure last week this week has been a little excitement-free.  The dog and I have been hanging around the house more than usual this week in an effort to save on gas.  Every morning between 330am-4am the neighbor's roosters (yes, plural) start crowing.  They have very distinct calls and usually take their turns 1-2-3 but occasionally the third rooster gets too wrapped up in his calls and breaks the pattern.  I know this because although rooster #1 has an low, short call and rooster #2 has a mid-level, longer tone (classic), rooster #3 has a high-pitched squawk that sounds as if someone is chasing it with a butcher's knife.  Which someday, somebody probably will, but not likely at 4am.  E and I have joked that this rooster sounds as if it is arriving from hell every morning, banshee-style.  Now, once the roosters have woken you up, you have to get up and pee.  The walk to the bathroom in the dark house is punctuated by the roosters' crows that get louder as you get to the bathroom because this room is at the back of the house and it's tiled so the sound echoes as well. 

This is just one of the sounds that greet you in the morning.  After the roosters wake up all the other animals, the labrador and german shephard start barking from the same neighbor's yard.  And they bark every 30 seconds or so until their breakfasts are served - which is not until 8am or so.  Add to the crowing and the barking, our neighbor to the side's chihuahua which starts whining upon hearing the bigger dogs barking from over the fence.  Our bedroom window faces this side neighbor's yard so we get the full effect of the whine.  The whine wakes up the neighbor, a woman in her early 40's, who then turns on FULL BLAST one of her 2 favorite CDs at the moment.  Take your pick between "Creedance Clearwater Revival's Greatest Hits" or an album I can't even imagine what its name is but is basically a collection of 1 young female singer, singing in spanish (and with non-corresponding lyrics - so annoying!) pop hits from the 80's and 90's.  The CD contains, "Every Breath You Take", "Piano Man", "Unbreak My Heart", "Total Eclipse of the Heart" among others.  I think I actually prefer the CCR album if only because it's the original versions of the songs.  The younger mexican singer on the second album makes you think you're hearing the original versions but it's not as satisfying.  And because our neighbor hasn't figured out all the words to the CCR album so she can't sing along as she does with the Cover Songs Album.  And she sings at the top of her lungs, usually adding a poetic, "ay! ay! aaaaay!" to the particularly sad moments of "Unbreak My Heart". 

So once her music (and possible singing) are added to the mix, we know it's time to get out of bed and for E to go to work. Once M hears our activity in the house, he starts crying and scratching at the front door for an early playtime.  Sitting on the patio reading emails and blogs after E leaves, I still bear witness to the cacaphony.  The singing neighbor goes to work, but her chihuahua continues to whine.  The roosters continue regularly until about 10am.  The neighborhood comes to life as the sun comes up over the mountain.  Cars and trucks without mufflers race through the neighborhood (for the first time in my life I find myself thinking, "slow down! there are children and animals playing here!"), some busses ramble through. And the pick-up trucks selling various produce and products start winding their way through the streets, playing either their jingles or loug voiceovers to announce that they're on their way.  The pick-up truck selling big containers of water is the most punctual.  I nearly always clock them between 7:32-7:34am.  Scattered throughout the morning, we are also offered tomatoes, bananas, propane tanks, ice cream and the occasional Christian outreach.  All this activity gives M plenty of opportunities to race down the length of the yard to see who is passing by the gate. 

As you've probably guessed by now there are no noise ordinances in this town.  No noise "pollution".  Which means we cannot report our neighbors for their barking dogs or music that blasts until 6am.  E was surprised when I first brought up the noise issue - he could hardly believe someone could actually be fined or go to jail for making noise on their own property.  The noise used to really annoy me but I think I've grown used to it now.  Makes it feel more cozy around here if you just know how to combat the noise (e.g. earplugs, turning fan on to make white noise, closing the windows, etc).  Writing this now, I'm reminded of one particularly rowdy night we had at the house.  Several friends were over and we were singing, yelling, playing music and carrying on and I must've said something about how much noise we were making, as it was pretty late.  E said something like, "Oh who cares?? All our neighbors make so much noise at other times, it's our turn!!" And he started barking like a dog! Then another friend start crowing like a rooster, another making engine "vroom" noises.  I stared in disbelief. Then I joined in - "baaahing" like the goat that our neighbor had at the time.  We made quite a symphony!  Some pics from our Sunday -

Swear Words

Back at it after being unable to write for awhile...had an interesting conversation with a friend this past weekend on a subject that E and I have been discussing lately.  In my education in the spanish language I've memorized many things.  Grammar and vocabulary aside there's been so many lessons rooted in mexican culture, body language and slang words.  I learned the framework and the grammar rules in high school spanish and a lot of if came back (and there's a lot I'm still waiting to "click").  But I really feel like I didn't start learning the language until I became immersed in it.  So many little quirks are not teach-able in a classroom. 

Things like introductions and greetings are so straightforward when read in a textbook, but become muddled with situation details when experienced in real life.  How to address different people in the world when meeting for the first time, the second time, etc.  How to greet someone in a loud bar vs. at a business meeting.  And I don't mean the mere "tu vs. ud" stuff - how shake hands, where to look, phrases to use.  I tried to learn these rules when I came and then realized that beyond the rules, every person is different.  For more examples - how to excuse oneself from a conversation, how to make offers to people or invite them to a place or do to something, how to talk on the telephone (yes even that feels different).  I was blindsided by these things when I arrived and am still learning the technicalities each and every day. 

Additionally there are so many language and cultural nuances that I'm convinced cannot be taught at all.  One must just feel them.  E has told me before that when he watches american movies or tv and a character says a swear word, that he doesn't feel anything.  The word is just a sound to him, it doesn't carry any weight.  This was so interesting a concept to me.  I thought about when I use strong words in spanish and how I feel the same way.  E and I have had to ask each other to rank the "weight" of a bad word, e.g. "How bad is this bad word? Is it worse than <insert other bad word here>? Would I say it to my mother?"  Somehow our mothers have become the barometer for common conversation acceptability. When I hear swear words in english, I feel something because I've grown up knowing the weight of those words.  In spanish, I sometimes wonder if I speak too strongly.  E has told me the basics of swear words and their usage, but it takes reading the situation to know what kind of language is acceptable.  And it appears there are unlimited "kinds" of spanish - as there are of english as well.  Difference being that because english is my native language, it's more inside me than spanish.  I can call on it without thinking, read between the lines of dialogue someone else is telling me to infer meaning or dishonesty or easily relate the words to other conversations or ideas I've had.  Some days it feels like this ability is out of my grasp and lightyears away from my understanding of spanish. 

Just thinking about this while writing has stirred up so many other "language barrier" stories that E and I have shared.  Perhaps future posts...Until then some pics from our dive trip last week - no language needed underwater!

Get on the Bus!

Our truck needs a new starter so until E's day off when we can get it towed and go to the mechanic together, it's back to taking the bus.  (or the bicycle, but I informed E that I only ride a bicycle November-March because of the heat).  Busses run in and out the city mostly on main roads.  They converge in an area of the city's center that is full of hardware stores, clothing boutiques, food stands, paper goods stores, plumbers, electricians, dry goods stores and a few restaurants.  If you want to go from one end of the city to the other, you have to stop and get off the bus at this point and try to figure out which bus will continue to the other side of the city.  I have had to do this, alone, and have asked the nice policemen-like bus officers that stand with their clipboards and whistles and direct bus traffic in and out of the intersection.  They seem to think there is a discernable "schedule" to these busses; they make one leave every time another arrives.  But the further you get from that crossroads, the less the bus drivers stick to any type of schedule and route.  Usually the bus approaching you as you stand on the corner (they'll pick you up anywhere, not just at marked bus stops) has its route written on the windshield...sometimes not, or sometimes it's not planning to follow what's written. 

The busses themselves are a hodge-podge of old baby school busses, long modern city busses, vans converted into busses with the sliding side door made to be automatic. You never know what will come rambling down the road.  Or who will be inside.  The bus drivers own their own busses, and just pay a tax to the city to drive the route and make a stop at the city center crossroads of busses.  The bus driver is usually male, 30-60 years old wearing jeans, boots and a t-shirt.  Sometimes they have cowboy hats! They're usually very nice and patient when you ask them if they are, in fact, planning to take the route marked on the windshield.     My favorite people to ride with are children (provided they're well behaved and they usually are) and elderly people.  Somtimes it's a bonus and I get to observe a grandmother with her grandchild the whole way to my destination.  Busses make excellent opportunities for people-watching. 

Dust to dust

A cool(er) cloudy day in Baja means it's a fine time to get some housework done...and my mother taught me to start cleaning at the top of a room and finish with the floors (see mom? you taught me something about house cleaning!!) So I tackled the top of the fridge - always a daunting task but here in Baja even more so.  Because we're out here in the desert (and I'm convinced also because there are no laws about car emissions and blue smoke can frequently been seen coming out of tailpipes), things can get a little dusty.  The fall wind is welcomed of course, after a hot summer, but dreaded because of the battle that begins over sand and dust on EVERYTHING! The tops of any object (counters, desk, chairs, tables, books, etc) get it the worst because it just settles down with gravity.  So on this cleaning day, the top of the fridge was a dust-bunny terrarium.  Then came the desk top and all the little odds and ends that don't belong anywhere else in the house and always seem to end up on the desk in the living room.  Those that know me well will recognize how much this "catch-all" concept bothers me!!! I think if left alone, E would turn this whole house into a "catch-all".  But that's good for me; I like to organize!

The other goal for the day was to bathe M - but he got lucky.  Though we have indoor plumbing water every day that comes from our huge cistern on the roof, the city sends water to the cistern and to our outdoor plumbing (garden spiget/hose) only about every other day.  As with many other things here in Baja, this is unpredictable and not to be relied upon.  Today is the "every other day" and alas, no water.  M's bath will have to wait....or maybe we'll just go to the beach :)

Totally worth the bloodshed

Just got back from a morning at Baja Dogs! This was my second trip out to the dog refuge and i feel very accomplished this morning - we got a lot done! Went on 4 walks around the property, had puppy play time and spent a good 10 minutes petting and scratching each dog.  Unfortunately, the little puppy nails on one pup carved up my wrist pretty good! But it's all superficial, no need for alarm - just a red squiggly scratchy mess.  Where did I put the antibiotic ointment?

When I arrived to the refuge this morning, there was one dog outside her kennel, running free around the fenced in property.  As I came up the gate (still locked), she showed me how adept she was at scooting underneath the flexible fencing and coming out onto the desert road.  Houdini! Come to find out this dog, Smokey, actually climbs out her 10 foot high chain-link kennel enclosure on a regular basis! She even taught another dog, Pointer, how to do it.  Mid-morning, with her walk all done, we saw Smokey standing on top of the covered area of her kennel - about 6 feet off the ground.  As we got closer she lept off the rooftop and flew through the air like she was part monkey!

Now, back home, M is having a heyday sniffing my clothing and finding all the dogs' individual scents - must drive him crazy, huh??

Mornings

Though I'm not what I would call a "morning-person", the early hours of the day are magical in Baja.  It could be that this is so because the sun hasn't arrived yet and the temps stay low.  But it seems to hold a special limitless feeling; like the day could go any which way from there.  It is my favorite time to walk on the Malecon or go take M to the beach to run around - which he does a lot of.  These are some pics from our walk yesterday

First Post

I'm always kind of awkward after a person asks me a question about Baja.  I usually end up answering their question and then rambling on about a side story or a funny experience.  The person listening does not know the places or friends I'm describing, but just talking about them gives me a happy feeling so I usually go on and on without realizing the person has stopped listening. Or they've raised their eyebrows in surprise, or furrowed them in concern, or cocked one of them in confusion.  This is when I uncomfortably realize I've talked too much. 

The truth is, I could probably go on for days about this place and its people.  About how I'm as shocked as the person listening that my life took this turn.  That I alternate between having to pinch myself as I get off the plane and feeling like I'm exactly where I should be. 

So I won't go on and on now. Just wanted to establish a first post. Get it out of the way.  I'm thinking of codenames for those to be mentioned in these writings so that I can retain some anonymity, goal #1 with these writings.  (I would try to do Aztec warrior names, but those have way too many letters.) Goal #2 is to not sound too rambly - because of the aforementioned story and the fact that, upon review of emails I've sent to my best friends over the years, I realize I can write a run-on sentence like nobody's business.