Doctoring south of the border

Felipe and I went to the dentist yesterday and had our teeth cleaned. For both of us it was less than $30. Pretty awesome considering neither of us have dental insurance and we usually pay $120 each. She really didn't do a great job on my teeth, basically just scraping all the plaque off but not polishing them or anything but I figure as long as I go once a year in the US for a heavy duty clean I can manage to skimp a little and come down here. She did spend more time on Felipe because he hadn't been to the dentist in over a year (ugh!).

Yesterday my sore throat that I had before coming here came back in full force so today Felipe and I went to the doctor in town. He was quite young, probably in his 30's which surprised me but was very nice. Basically asked a bunch of questions (which Felipe answered of course) and then looked quickly at my throat and gave me amoxicillan and two other pills. And what did the consultation AND medicine cost? About $25, barely what my copays in the US would be. Not too shabby. Although I think there must be something stronger in the medicine here because my stomach doesn't feel so hot after taking the pills. Oh well!

Felipe and his nephew Neto just loaded the pinata with candy and are trying to figure out where to hang it. I think we are going to the plaza around midnight to see all the fireworks. Hopefully some of my pictures will turn out because I don't really have the knack for taking night shots yet. All right, I better get back to the family. Happy new year everyone!

Lots of visiting

Here is a picture of our pile of treats from the posadas on Christmas Eve. Totally crazy and not nearly enough chocolate for me but lots of these things called chicharones that are sort of like a cheeto without the cheese and with either a salt and lime flavor or chili flavor.

Here is Felipe with his younger sister (30) Ely on Saturday after we went to a Quinceniera (15th birthday party) for a distant relative of Felipe's called Astrid Linely who was actually born in the US and lives in New Jersey most of the time. It was a giant party with at least 500 people in this family's back yard. His sister thought a party like that probably cost about $10,000 which just amazes me. That's more than our wedding cost! It was totally fun to get dressed up with his sisters and neices Gaby and Deysi and go to the party though. There was barbacoa, beans and rice to eat and I did eat the meat (beef) even though I was sick last time in Mexico both times I ate beef. Luckily, I didn't get sick this time. They had great green salsa. We didn't stay for the giant cake but we did stay to see the first dance where the Quinceniera dances with her chanbelanes (her closest guy friends- you can see one in the white jacket here) which was to Whitney Houston's "I will always love you" so at least I understood the words. We took a movie but those don't show up on the blog. Then there is a coronation where she gets a crown put on her and then they change her shoes which symbolizes her changing from a girl to a woman. It is hard to see the girls dress in this photo but it was very pretty. I guess the Quinceniera is a good tradition for a girl because it gives you an opportunity to be princess for a day besides your wedding.

Other than that we haven't been doing much except sitting around and visiting. Felipe and I are getting a little restless with not much "action" as F likes to say. Every day consists of sweeping and mopping and cleaning and more cleaning. Washing dishes and clothes by hand certainly takes more time than loading a washer at home. My feet are horribly dirty and dry and do not come clean no matter how much soap I put on them. I think they only look so much dirtier than everyone else's because they are so pale compared to everyone else's. His family is going to come for New Year's but it isn't as big a production as F remembers. His sister Abelina (Andrea) did get to talk on my computer with her kids and grandkids and see them which was nice for all of them. Hopefully we'll be able to do that again. I showed his sister Ely how to use Skype so hopefully we can talk to them that way from now on instead of paying for phone cards.

Well, that's all for now. I'm getting more sore throat back (I had one for 10 days before we left) which is unfortunate since spicy food doesn't agree with it and I don't have any of my pain medicine with me. Ay que lastima as F would tell me (too bad!).

Christmas Eve in Tetelilla

So Christmas Eve is like the grand finale of the Posadas. It is kind of like Halloween on steriods with the baby Jesus and lots of praying thrown in. We walked around town for 3 hours searching for processions and then when we saw one we would run to catch up to it and squeeze into the house listening to the prayers until it was time to put Jesus in the manger. Then everyone pushes and squeezes out the little door to get the bag of treats which are a little more impressive on Christmas eve. We got tamales, chicken tortas (sandwiches), marshmallows, punch, pop and tons of other stuff.

Here is the punch that we had to drink. It has sugar cane and lots of fruits that I don't know the name of because we don't have them in the US, except guavas and cinnamon. They simmer it all day and then add some tequila. It was delicious! We also had atole which is like a think drink made of ground up rice.

I gotta run now. I'll write more later.

Lights and sparks... and more animal crackers

Yesterday we went to another posada celebration, actually two... the first one was the same as before but the second one was a little more exciting. They were going to hang pinatas up and someone thought it was a good idea to connect the rope to the roof on one side of the street and to an electric wire on the other side. A couple guys were playing with the rope in the middle trying to get ready to hang the pinata and I was taking a picture of a house on the corner with lights when all of a sudden there were sparks down the street. I thought it was fireworks but the everyone started screaming and running and Felipe was yelling my name. It took me a second to figure out it was the electric wires. I figured it out quickly when the bulbs started flashing and then went out in all the houses on the street. It was quite hilarious after the initial fear of electricution was over. Then we came back to Felipe's house and sat around eating our animal crackers and waiting for his sister Ely to come home from work.

Today is Christmas Eve but it doesn't feel like it since it is warm and sunny and not cold and snowy. Kind of like the Christmas we spent in Florida. Just not quite right... Right now his sisters are preparing for the afternoon dinner. Felipe and I made tuna noodle salad for them but I'm not sure what they will think of it. They have wireless internet and I was going to hook up to it so I could use Skype and talk to my parents but it needs a password and they don't know what it is so I can't connect. Oh well. Maybe his nephew will let us download Skype on his computer for two weeks so I can use it. We'll see. it would be kind of fun for my family to see Felipe's and vice versa. Maybe they'll figure out the password and I can use my computer. Anyway, we should go help cook if they will let us. Have a Merry Christmas everyone! We are thinking of you.

Surprise in Mexico

Here we are again in Felipe´s hometown. We left at 6am on Sunday (after about 2 hours of sleep) and finally got to his town at 7:30pm. When we got there his sisters weren´t home but as we went over to the gate and were standing there trying to decide what to do, his dad suddenly opened the door and looked right at us. He was quite surprised and tried to open the gate thinking we had our car (which we wish we did). I was totally surprised that the house was decorated with lots of Christmas lights. We were able to haul all our stuff into the house we stay in and then sit and talk to his dad for awhile before his sister´s Filo and Sofia came back and his 8 year old niece Arlin (who is completely crazy about him!). I think his poor sister Filo almost had a heart attack when she saw us and they both were so excited. We went to bed before his sister Eli (the one that is my age) got home and his sister Filo didn´t tell her we were there so last night when she got home from work we were able to surprise her as well. It was very fun to see how surprised and happy they were to see us. They also had kept it secret from his sister Andrea so we had gone to visit her in the afternoon and surprised her. Felipe asked her why are lunch wasn´t ready... He loves giving his sister´s a hard time and they totally laugh and say ¨Ay hermanito¨ which is kind of like saying Oh Little Brother and they have huge smiles.

Last night we went to a posadas celebration (This is our nieces Gabi and Deysi - who was at our wedding) and it was very nice. A lot of ceremony which I can´t figure out is Mexican or Catholic or both since there is probably little separation in a country that 95% of the people are Catholic. We went to one house and took some candles and flowers and walked in a procession while some people carrying a statue of Mary and Joseph (very similar to the Good Friday Procession, although with different characters of course) and everyone was singing. Then we walked around for about 15 minutes and went to someones house and there were people inside singing pretending to be the innkeeper and then the people outside pretending to be Mary and Joseph trying to find a place for the night. When they opened the gate to let everyone in it was like a herd of cows pushing. Probably like going shopping on the Friday after Thanksgiving in the states. Once inside there is a little more singing and praying and then the host family hands out glasses of corn water (Felipe can´t remember the name - maybe atole de granillo) and then everyone lines up to walk through the house and get a bag full of treats. Mostly the treats are animal crackers but Felipe remembers when he was little they got mandarin oranges and sugar cane also. It was very nice and I´m glad I got to see it since I´ve been fascinated with the Posadas since I read about them in Spanish class.

Over all the weather now is just about perfect. We no longer sweat just sitting in the shade. His poor family is wrapped in sweaters and shivering and Felipe and I are in short sleeves telling them they don´t know what cold is! I´m sooooooo glad it´s not as hot as before. Today we took the bus to Cuautla (about 15 miles away) to go to the big grocery store and get some vegetables like green peppers and carrots and potatoes that they don´t have in his town right now. We did find a place with our favorite ice cream and got a little and also saw a bakery with the largest cakes you´ve ever seen for weddings and quincenieras (15th birthdays). I took some pictures but I think the lady was kind of mad but I just gave her a blank look and she left me alone. The whole family is coming over to his dad´s house tomorrow because they celebrate on the 24th with a big dinner. It will be nice to have everyone in one place and hopefully I´ll be able to take lots of pictures and video. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and I´ll try to put up more pictures.

Is there any truth in an infomercial?

I am a firm believer in NOT believing anything I see on an infomercial. Whether it is a super chopping knife or an ab roller or turbo ladder or magical age reversing make-up. I would never buy anything from QVC or by dialing an 800 number I saw on TV. It's the same reason when someone calls me at the office claiming to be from the Fireman or Police something or other looking for donations I think it's a scam (which news reports have found it highly likely to be one).

While those commercials are targeted at my wants and needs and are easier to resist by convincing myself they won't work or I don't need them, some of those 90-second to 30 minute segments are not so easy to ignore. Instead, I usually turn the channel out of skepticism or pure guilt. I'm thinking of the ones where "for the price of your daily cup of coffee you can make adopt a child" in Africa or Latin America. I have such a strong resistance to being sold something on TV but I never could stop wondering if that money would really make a difference and how much of it would actually reach the child.

Since returning from Mexico this spring I have been reading every book and article I can about the history of Mexico and about the current economic status. The facts about starvation and malnutrition are eye-opening and frightening. Studies estimate that almost 50% of the children in the country are malnurished (and almost as many adults). I've heard statistics about malnutrition in other countries but I've never really understood how far those effects stretch. There are disturbing pictures of indigenous school children from Felipe's state next to children in private schools in Cuernavaca. The children from rural Morelos (Felipe's state) are visibly shorter and frailer than the middle/upper class children. You can actually see the effects of having not enough food and that disturbed me a lot.

Unlike the US, schools to not provide any food or snacks to the children. When kids show up hungry, with no breakfast they have no energy. They fall asleep in class and don't learn. If they don't learn, they are put on the path of only finishing the US equivalent of junior high. In fact, that is all that is required in Mexico which surprised me.

I feel like someday I would like my mission to be finding out a way to make sure every kid that goes to school gets a good breakfast. Maybe by making sure that kids get at least one full meal a day, five days a week, it will give them enough energy to stay awake in class and study. For Mexico to rise in power, technology, and economical status in the world I really believe they need to start out with more focus on education. I tried to figure out the cost to provide each kid with eggs, tortillas, milk, and fruit and guess what it comes out to? The cost of a cup of coffee. I guess I've become a believer after all.

Lead, lead, lead...

Oh yes... I'm talking about the metal here, not the verb. I have a warning for all traveler's to Mexico who want to bring back some beautiful pottery as a souvenier... Don't plan on using it to cook! I'll blame ignorance for this expensive mistake. The thought never crossed either Felipe or my mind when we were buying our 80-piece dish set. We were so in love with the pattern and after an hour of walking around and discussing it we decided to purchase the dishes as our big present to ourselves. It wasn't until I got back to the US and showed them to my mom and a friend that they asked about lead. I had no idea! So after many months of the dishes sitting in boxes I finally found the business card from where we purchased them. Felipe called and asked the lady if they used lead in their glaze because I had read online that in the last three years a lot of places had stopped due to health awareness. The lady told Felipe they absolutely do not use lead in the glaze and you can even microwave the dishes and cook in them. WRONG!

Just to be sure, I found a place in St. Louis Park that would test a plate for $30. I did it as a formality since I didn't think the woman in Puebla would lie. I mean it's not like we would be able to return them anyway! The tester guy called and told me there is indeed lead in our plates and we should NOT heat them in the microwave or cook anything in them and should also not store food in them. Wow. Talk about a sad kick in the gut.

The guy said it would be safe to eat off of them occassionally because food doesn't sit long enough on the plate between when you serve and when you consume it for any lead to leach out. The problem is if you heat it or chip it or if you let things sit on them overnight in the fridge. Serving dry things like crackers or bruschetta toast will not absorb any lead so I can at least use them at parties and for holiday meals. As long as we don't use them daily or cook on them there is no real danger. We never planned on using them for actually cooking anyway, just serving, but it is still disappointing.

Lesson learned... thinking of buying pottery to eat off of? DON'T! Even if you ask the people at the store in Mexico they may either lie or not know the truth themselves (I'd like to give them the benefit of the doubt). Just buy pottery with decoration in mind! At least we have a beautiful set of special occassion dishes and apparently a really, really expensive kitchen/dining room decoration. Now we need to find a hutch cupboard to display them in I guess!

Day of the Dead - a little early

For the first time, Felipe and I went to an event celebrating Day of the Dead. Ironically, it was a celebration held at the MN History Center which I personally found a little odd.

There were a lot of activities meant to entertain kids and then events which Felipe personally doesn't connect to the celebration like Aztec dancers (though the costumes are amazing and it's hard not to enjoy the dances). However, the ofrendas were very similar to the ones in Mexico. In Mexican households and in the cemetaries each family creates an altar with all sorts of things that remind them of the deceased loved ones. Traditional items left at the ofrendas vary by state but there are basic similarities throughout Mexico. One such item is the pan de muerto, bread decorated with bone shapes, which can be found everywhere. Also, the bright orange cempasuchil flowers, similar to marigolds, are the "flowers of death" and are used all over the country. Celebrations start on what we Americans celebrate as Halloween with Mexican families setting up their altars and preparing for the deceased spirits to visit. The spirits of the children or angelitos (little angels) are supposed to revisit their families on earth in the early hours of Nov 1st.
Deceased adult spirits come to visit their families in the early morning hours of Nov 2nd. Usually the favorite foods of the dead person are laid out for their spirit to taste. Tamales, atole (a thick cornmeal drink), beans, rice, chocolate, a glass of tequila, etc, are some examples. Candles are lit and incense is burned. The families spend the evening and days remembering their passed loved ones.

Sugar and candy skulls are also sold in mass along with little candy coffins. In Patzcuaro, where the countries, most famous celebration is held, they sell skeletal figurines all year long. We saw them in March when we were there.

These traditions, although seemingly Christian in nature, actually date back to pre-Hispanic rituals dedicated to Mictlantecuhtli, the Mexica (Aztec) lord of the underworld, and Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec war deity to whom many people were sacrificed. In an attempt to convert the natives of Mexico, Spanish priests moved the date to coincide with All Soul's Day. I guess the Aztec dancing does come in to play....

Though Felipe's family has been honoring his mother on Day of the Dead for 16 years, this will be the first year for his sister Hilaria who died of cancer last December. They also honor all the grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, etc. Felipe also has a sister who died at age 7 (who was older than him) and a brother who I believe was still-born (he isn't counted on his mother's line of births that's on Felipe's birth certificate though) but the details are fuzzy on that since it was way before Felipe's time and his family doesn't really discuss things like that. I hope next year we can go to Mexico during this time because I know Felipe would like to be part of the memorial/celebration after being gone for so many years. I personally, think this is a wonderful idea and told Felipe I hope we would do this tradition in our house when we have children or that we should even do it now. How nice to spend at least one day a year remembering those you love who are no longer with you. Something I bet not a lot of us take time to do after the initial grieving period is over.

For anyone interested in learning more about the Day of the Dead celebrations in the Twin Cities I will let you know about a few things I know that are going on. All of the events are FREE>

Friday the 31st - Dia de los Angelitos Traditional Aztec Danza at the Nighborhood House, 179 Robie St E, St. Paul. Starts at 7pm and is followed by music and food.

Saturday the 1st - 1-3 pm Sugar Skull making and information about history of Day of the Dead at the gym in the Neighborhood House (address above).

6pm - Gathering at La Placita, 175 Cesar Chavez St, St. Paul. A procession through the neighborhood starts at 6:30 ending at the Neighborhood house (address above) with music, food and a bonfire.

Sunday the 2nd, at Global Market in Minneapolis there is free Mexican food from 2-5 and I'm guessing some ofrendas will be there on display. I'm sure there must be events held at Mercado Central on Lake & Bloomington as well but I haven't seen any information on those.

Different status, same reaction

Tired and a little freaked out by all the news coverage of America's "crashing economy" and the "next depression" and how my Roth IRA, although fairly minimal, is probably plummeting lower and lower as I type this, Felipe and I flipped, first to BBC News and then to Univision so we could find out a little bit about what is going on in the rest of the world. Immediately on Univision I saw the common picture of Police with ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement?) on their back conducting raids. What I found surprising is my stomach clenched in the same way it has for almost 7 years. From the time I got to know Felipe (Oct 2001) first as a friend, then falling in love (not sure exactly when that part happened), I have had a knot in my stomach at the mere mention of Immigration Raids.

There was a point in our relationship where we both had to make a conscious decision to move forward, knowing the difficulties that would be ahead due to his status (although we didn't really understand them until a year before our marriage when we met with an attorney). I knew before our first date his situation but I refused to let that bother me since he was a nice guy, always polite and respectful with a big smile. My friend Conchie confirmed that he was a good guy, didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't have lots of girls.... he broke from my stereo type of a Mexican man (which, unfortunately, was always fairly negative).

I honestly cannot say enough good things about the type of person Felipe is... He is so generous with his time, loving to volunteer at Ronald McDonald house or with church. He always makes me feel loved and beautiful and never criticizes me (except the occasional complaints about my nasty habit of leaving dirty Kleenex around). He strives to succeed and worked hard at his English classes, even before he met me. He worries about my family as if they are his own. He feels a responsibility to take care of his dad and my parents as well as they age. He is honest, loving, a great cook... A hard worker, sometimes having 3 jobs and working over 100 hours a week. yes, he's also incredibly stubborn, getting a little sassy, and a picky eater but nobody is perfect.

I suppose you are wondering what my point is with this rambling about Felipe's good qualities. Every time in the past 7 years that I have heard of an Immigration raid I panic. My stomach would clench so tight I felt nauseous and my mind would race trying to figure out where Felipe was if I wasn't with him at the time. I would cry as the news caster would interview the spouse and children of those arrested. I would get angry by the unfairness of it all. Usually people were arrested at work, trying to make money for their families, having no previous criminal history. To be fair, I completely understand the argument that "they came here illegally so they are all criminals." I do see the point. It is true in the literal sense I suppose. However, as a spouse who knows what an incredible person her husband is, how he helps others, pays taxes, learned English... I just don't see how we can put any group of people in a box and have a blanket way of dealing with them.

It frustrated and angered me that I knew, even though Felipe's spouse was a US citizen, even though he is an honest guy, etc., if he was ever caught in the middle of a raid it wouldn't matter... They wouldn't take that into consideration. They would rip him out of my life, maybe without even allowing him to call me. That fear was constant in our lives. It was especially terrible during the beginning of our relationship when I respected Felipe's wishes and didn't divulge his status to anyone (or almost anyone). I had no one to share my fears with. The nights I laid awake after the raids at Swift and in southern MN in sheer panic, I had no one to call. Acid burned in the back of my throat as I listened to anti-immigrant people call in to radio shows and make ignorant comments about how "all" illegals abuse welfare, don't know English, don't pay taxes. These are the same people who would assume they knew a person's story just by the color of their skin. That assume all Latinos are Mexican and all Mexicans are illegal.

Felipe never wanted me to tell anyone about his status because he didn't want to be judged by it, and I knew he was right. It made my heart hurt to think people could hate Felipe without even getting to know him at all... Without even caring about the type of person he is... Those people think the only thing that matters is how he got to the US. I just will never be able to agree to that. Never. I believe there is such a thing as forgiveness, and if you can show that, even though you may not have got into the US the correct way, you have done nothing but good things since you've been here, you deserve some. Thankfully, the government did grant forgiveness to Felipe on April 17th, 2008. I hope some of those ultra-radical anti-immigrant activists can open their minds to the idea of forgiveness and close their minds to some of the hatred that they seem to emit from their pores.

Even though I know Felipe's status is now pretty iron clad (unless he commits a felony worthy of having his green card stripped) I still feel panic when I see the ICE people on TV kicking in doors and holding guns. I still feel violated in a way. Unsafe. Like my family is in danger. I do still know many people who are in danger from those raids and maybe that is why my gut tightens. I don't know exactly. I do know that I hugged Felipe tightly last night, long after he fell asleep and thanked everyone I could think of who supported us in our trip this spring for making his forgiveness possible. Everyone who wrote letters, read our blog, sent encouraging emails, prayed, thought good thoughts, towed our PT.... All of you are blessings in our lives and I think every day how you all helped Felipe and I take away some of our daily fear of forceful separation. You all showed us how much we are loved and encouraged from our family's, friends, co-workers of family =), Trinity members.... Thank you from the bottom of my heart and the pit of my stomach.

Hispanic Heritage Month

Some of you may or may not know that Sept 15th - Oct 15th is Hispanic Heritage Month. Interestingly, I am more excited about this than Felipe. So far I've tried to get him to go to the Independence Day celebration on Lake Street (although that was technically on the 14th) and a free Flamenco Dance event in Minnehaha Park. Both times I was shot down. I've already printed off tickets for a Latino Family Day on Oct 11th in St. Paul which I'm sure we won't go to either. I will put my foot down on Oct 26th when there is a Day of the Dead event at the MN History Center and go without him if I have to.

I've told him that I would like to explore different Latino outreach events because when/if we have children I think it is incredibly important for them to feel a part of the Latino community. We have talked about living in Mexico for 6 to 9 months when/if we have kids when they are about 3 to 5 so they can really become fluent in Spanish and, more importantly, get to know Felipe's family and town. We both agree on this point and hope our jobs at that time would allow us to do this. I think it is crucial that any children we have would spend time in Mexico and I believe it would help them appreciate life in the States a lot more.

Since when/if the day (still way in the future) comes to have children and decide to raise them I think these discussions about Latino/American culture will become a lot more at the forefront of our lives. I don't force Felipe to attend events even though I am interested in them and try to support him by going. The only one he does enjoy is the Cinco de Mayo celebration in St. Paul. Trying to blend our cultures is very difficult and I feel like his Mexican heritage is always getting watered down. We only speak English together, don't dance to salsa or reggae music (we don't dance at all actually!), don't attend many Quincenera's (girl's 15th bday parties) or huge baptisms parties of strangers like his family does... The only thing we really do is cook Mexican food and try to share it with others.

Felipe seems generally disinterested in events here, mainly because he views them as not really "Mexican." I won't say he is ashamed of being Mexican because he is definitely not. He's just not the type who pastes a flag on the back of his car or flies one over his house. When we were in Mexico he enjoyed listening to music in Spanish, talking in Spanish, telling me stories about Mexico. When he is in Minnesota he focuses his thoughts here. What he should be doing here to be successful, to communicate, etc.

I asked him once if he knew what his heritage was, what kind of Indian was in his blood or how much Spanish. He says they are all mixed and has no idea what kind and no interest in finding out. To me it would be fascinating to know if his Indian blood was Aztec or Mayan or Incan or some other tribe. Just like I traced my family tree back to see what country all my ancestors came from so I can tell you exactly how much of everything I am (except for 1/16 that is up in the air between Danish and French/Canadian due to birth certificate discrepency). I think many Americans can identify exactly what their heritage is and Felipe has no interest in that discovery and really no resource to find out even if he did want to know.

In Mexico, for hundreds of years full-blooded Indians were the lowest class and then mestizos (a mix of Indian and Spanish or African) were the next lowest. There is still a definite divide in the country between these groups, especially when looking at income level. Most of the poorest people in the country are the indigenous people. I guess that is why Felipe never really thought about what parts had made him a whole... In Mexico you are a Mexican first and you don't really want to draw attention to the other parts of your heritage, especially the indigenous ones.

Hopefully, Felipe and I will find a better balance between the American and Latino worlds here in Minnesota because part of what makes him special to me is his culture and his past and I want to help him keep those things alive and appreciate them with him... As much as he'll allow me to I guess!

Feliz Dia de la Independencia

Happy Independence Day to all the Mexicans out there! Yes, September 16th is Independence day, NOT May 5th like many Americans may think, due to the big Cinco de Mayo celebrations we tend to have here in the States. Here is the summary of the movement as I understand it.

In 1808, Napoleon invaded Spain and got rid of Ferdinand VII, replacing him with his own brother Joseph Bonaparte, which further agravated the colony of New Spain, which was already extremely unhappy with the crown. In 1810, after more than 300 years of rule by Spain, often violent and oppressive to the indigenous tribes and any one who was not a true Spanish-born Spaniard, the Independence movement of New Spain was beginning. By this time most of the land was owned by the powerful Spanish- born or Spanish descended residents of New Spain.

There was a group of young people who had a "literary club" in Queretaro and they had declared that Dec 8, 1810 would be the date to proclaim Independence and they gathered weapons and ammunition, seeking allies across the country. With only 3 months to go, news leaked and some members of the group were arrested including Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez who managed to get news out to the others before she was taken away and jailed. Dona (an even more polite version of Senora or Mrs.) Josefa is considered the heroine of the Mexican Independence movement.

The plotters decided to advance the date. Three days later they pronounced Mexico independent. Just before dawn on September 16, 1810, the priest of the town of Dolores (near San Miguel de Allende and Guanajuato where F & I visited), Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla raised the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe and gave the cry of Independence (now known as the "grito de Delores" by Mexicans). There is no record of exactly what he said but the most repeated version is "Viva la religion! Viva nuestra Santissima Madre de Guadalupe! Viva la America! Y muera el mal gobierno!" or "Long live the religion! Long live Our Holy Mother of Guadalupe! Long live America! And death to bad government!" The other sentence that is often quoted is "Death to the gauchupines (Spaniards)"

Hidalgo was 57 and a criollo, which means he was born in New Spain of Spanish parents. Not a mestizo (mix of Spanish, indigenous and even African blood) which was the underclass, indio which was a full-blooded Indian- the lowest class, or a peninsular which was someone actually born in Spain - the highest class at the time. The Virgin of Guadalupe became a symbol of the revolution, the Holy Mother with the Brown Face. Her face is dark like the indigenous people and was proof to them that God loved them, while Spaniards used them, killed them and enslaved them. Hildalgo led troops under a flag of the Virgin with the grito written on it.

They had victory after victory as they marched. The army was 50,000 strong when it marched on Guanajuato, one of the richest silver cities of the time. On Sept 28th there were 500 Spaniards and criollos with their fortunes inside the stone walls of the towns public granary, now becoming the Spanish fortress of Guanajuato. The forces fighting for independence threw stones and shot at the walls of the granary but they held. Finally they piled wood at the gate and lit it on fire. At 5 that night the angry crowd burst through the the burned door and violently killed everyone except the women and children and looted all the valuables. The looting and killing went on all night, by a frenzy of angry, impoverished people.

After months of battles across the country the leader, Hildalgo, was captured on March 21st in a trap set by the Spaniards, along with three other leaders, Ignacio Allende, Jose Mariano Jimenez and Juan Aldama. They were taken to the Federal Palace of Chihuahua City, jailed, probably tortured, and sentenced to death. Allende, Jimenez and Aldama were found guilty of treason and executed on June 26, 1811. In the end, Hildalgo recanted and apologized that he had not controlled his troops. He apologized for the madness and the slaughter that the poor had done. Though he apologized for the bloody turn of the revolution, he remained determined that Mexico should be freed. On July 30, 1811, Hildalgo stood before the firing squad, refusing to be blindfolded. He put his hand over his heart to give the executioners a target. The first volley wounded him in the arms and legs and one passed through his hand but did not kill him. He lay on the ground, bleeding and in pain until someone pointed the gun straight at his heart and killed him.

The heads of all four men were hacked off and put in metal cages where they were sent to Guanajuato and hung on the four courners of the walls of the Granary. The heads remained there in metal cages for 10 years, which is how long it took that priest to lead his worshipers of the Virgin of Guadalupe out of the strangling embrace of the Spanish crown. New Spain's independence was finally recognized by the Spanish Empire on September 27, 1821.

To decide a new name for their independent country, they looked in to their history, back before the conquest by Spain, to the great city of Tenochtitlan or Mexica (the city in the middle of the lake where Mexico City now stands). Mexico, the name of a warrior god, one of the names of perhaps the most beautiful and orderly city in the world at the moment of its destruction (early 1500s after the Spanish came). However, the people who lived in the city, who built it, who were mostly destroyed, were called the Mexica. If everyone in the country was going to be a Mexican a new name had to be created for the Mexica. They were the people we now know as Aztecs, renamed because one of the stories of their origin said they came from a place called Aztlan.

How did Felipe celebrate Independence Day as a kid? On the night of Sept 15th, the President of Mexico reenacts the Grito de Delores by ringing the bells of the National Palace in Mexico City, repeating the words of Hildalgo with the addition of "Viva Mexico!" "Long live Mexico." Up to 500,000 spectators gather in the Zocalo (main plaza) of Mexico City to watch this. At dawn on Sept 16 there is a parade and the day is full of festivals all around towns throughout Mexico and ended with fireworks displays even in the smallest of towns.

Back to school

Well, I guess I don't go back to school after Labor Day and we don't have any kids that do but something just seems changed once September hits. Felipe has started accelerating his efforts in school in hopes of graduating next June. He still has a lot to learn about US History, Language Arts, Algebra, Economics, American Citizenship and Biology... I anticipate biology to be the hardest with all the long science words. A whole new English vocabulary!

As a foreign born person who completed school but does not have any university education, Felipe is required to take 36 trimesters of US high school courses in order to receive a US diploma (typical high school students take 72, I believe). From my calculations he has about 14 done with about 9 months of work so it will be a push to finish the rest by June but I'm confident he can do it. Felipe always tells me in a tone of great surprise how many Americans are in his diploma classes. They are mostly younger than 30, either girls who had kids in high school or, for the middle-aged men it seems to be ones who have been injured at work and now have to find a new career where a high school diploma or computer skills are now necessary.

I volunteer at the Elk River diploma and ESL (English as a Second Language) programs once a week and have been for two years, starting my third year this month. I greatly admire all the people who attend classes and try to improve their education or their understanding of English. Some nights there are so many students that there are not enough teachers or volunteers to help everyone. One item that is overlooked in the talk about making English the US's official language is the need for more funding and more volunteers at these ABE/ESL locations. There are students who come only one or two times and then do not come back because they are frustrated with their lack of attention. From June 1, 2007 to May 31, 2008 there were over 250 students who attended classes in Elk River for at least 12 hours. Amazing the need for help. However, there are only 1 or 2 teachers who can sign off on assignments and maybe a two or three volunteers who help students with questions during each class time.

Some nights Felipe is at school for 3 hours and does not get a chance to talk to a teacher. At least he has the benefit of a college educated wife and a native English speaker at home to help him with projects. However, there are many things that need to be done in the classroom and only a licensed teacher can actually sign off and give credit for work. Felipe gets frustrated when he has things to turn in and is not able to do it. The teachers in Elk River are incredible though. The main teacher's name is Pam and you can tell she was put on earth to help people. She is friendly and generous and always giving, genuinely concerned about her students and interested in their stories and lives and helping them achieve their goals. However, no matter how wonderful and hard working someone is it is impossible to handle so many students with so little help!

Most of you who read my blog (about 99.9% of you) are native English speakers. I would encourage you, if you are looking for a volunteer opportunity, maybe you are retired and looking for something to fill part of your days, please consider helping in an ESL classroom or with diploma students. School was so long ago you're not sure you remember much? That's ok! Lots of ESL students need help with simple reading and speaking and pronunciation skills. Information for your local ESL/ABE program should be posted in your Community Education Guide or email me and I'll help you find a program close to you! It is amazingly rewarding to help people who are motivated to learn! Happy volunteering!

Warning: long entry ahead

Ok. Strap your reading glasses on. After talking about my writing class I figured I should publish one of my writing exercises. Keep in mind I'm terrible at apostrophies (as is my sister apparently, according to an article published at her 40th birthday party... must be in the genes). I also have not proofread this completely so I do expect my mother to comment on my misuse of desert vs. dessert or where vs. wear at least once. However, it is about 7:15 and I have been at Panera mooching free internet for about 3 hours so I figure I better publish this and get home. I never wrote very much about the day we left Tetelilla. It was a very emotional day and was very hard for both of us. Here is what I've written so far about it.... I welcome any and all comments and feedback, even grammatical ones (if you must).

THE MORNING WE LEFT HOME
Felipe and I awoke slowly that day. The warmth of morning was hugging the fruit trees and it seeped into our room, stroking our faces and arms, causing us to groan with the realization it will be yet another steamy day. With a loud whinny, the scrawny horse announced it was her time to be fed. She seemed to know the instant the sun broke above the horizon, and immediately begged to be led down the road to her feeding ground. I was never sure why she was so anxious because the dry, brittle grass of the field seemed as if it wouldn’t satisfy a pocket gopher, let alone a full grown horse.

Felipe reluctantly lifted himself out of bed, kissing me lazily on the nose. I grunted and rolled on my side, sounding like one of the twin pigs his sister was raising in the backyard pen. Something darted quickly down my arm. I sure hope that is sweat, I thought worriedly. Keeping my eyes closed a moment longer, I tried to remain calm. Slowly, I rose to check the mounds of mouse “food” Felipe had put out three days before. His attempt to get rid of the unwelcomed visitors. Sighing with relief, I realized some had disappeared. Wait. Was it actually moving? Squinting down at the blue tiles I saw the small, poisonous fuchsia pellets marching under the refrigerator. I looked on the other side and saw a little pile of our defense system surrounded by ants. Damn, we lost again, I muttered. I guess Mexican mice are smarter than Minnesotan ones and Mexican ants will eat anything.

Felipe’s father had told him that mice had only been around town for the last few years. My theory on the situation was the large packs of dogs roaming the streets had created a complete scarcity of cats, causing the mice population to flourish. Thankfully, due to the meticulous cleaning of Felipe’s sisters, there were never any mice in the kitchen. Felipe and I were so used to our pest-free American lives that, upon arrival, we did not think twice about bringing a pile of snacks into the room, including granola bars and mini bags of chips. However, after noticing holes in multiple granola bars and the corner of four bags of Harvest Cheddar Sunchips (a surprising mouse favorite over the Cheetos and Cheese Doritos) our error in judgment was discovered. The remaining time in Tetelilla was spent battling the rodents, realizing our repeated losses when we would daily find new mouse droppings on the bed which the food had previously sat on.

My casual attitude throughout this war surprised me, since I would not tolerate rodents, insects or any animal in my own home, placing traps or calling an exterminator at the first buzz heard or black pellet found. However, here in Mexico, in the heart of this impoverished country, the problems of drought, heat, and hunger, of poverty, unemployment, and lack of education seemed to drown out the sounds of those scurrying feet.

The metal gate clanked as horse and husband started their morning procession for the last time, snapping me out of my daze. Feeling slightly defeated and very annoyed by my ant discovery, I grabbed a towel, slipped on flip-flops and made my way across the yard to the shower. “Buenos días,” I said to Felipe’s father as I walked past. His teal plastic chair was already sitting on the uneven stones outside his bedroom door. “Sí,” he replied and chuckled, not so quietly. I know I didn’t pronounce that wrong, I thought. After three weeks, I no longer took his laughter personally though, knowing he spoke little and laughed a lot. Sitting in his chair with gray polyester pants and plaid snap-buttoned shirt, a white cowboy hat throwing shade on his wrinkled, warm brown face, I could not see his crippled hand and leg.

Giving him another smile, I continued down the dirt path towards the bathroom. I pushed the curtain aside and took a hurried shower, trying to conserve as much water as possible because I didn’t know how much was left in the tank today. It was only 7am and the water needed to last, through all the day’s functions: showers, dishes, hand washing, toilet flushing, and plant watering, until 1 in the afternoon. Like in any U.S. city, Tetelilla has a main city well that pumps the water from underground, pushing it through pipes that run under the city’s cement and gravel streets. The difference in Mexico is that each street only has water coming down the pipes for an hour every day. Each family is allowed one private pump to bring the water for all the day’s chores into large holding tanks and barrels hoping it would be enough for the next 24 hours. It never is.

When Felipe was young, his family who lives on the north side of town, had the ability to pump more water throughout the day if it was needed and his family’s yard was full of fruit trees and flowers. However, people on the south side of town did not even have enough water for cooking, due to poor pumping systems and pipes. Since this process of water rationing was started in recent years, as an effort to provide water equality throughout town, most of the trees have shriveled in his dad’s yard. In fact, if a person in town has actually has healthy trees or a lot of green plants and flowering bushes, a neighbor will likely report them to the water authority who will inspect the yard, making sure the household is not using any extra water pumps.

Walking back to our cement house after my quick shower, I noticed my father-in-law was preparing to leave. Each day, he took a taxi to the neighboring town to sit in the plaza, people-watching with his friends. I was surprised when the first morning we woke up in Tetelilla, his father was already gone.

“Doesn’t he want to stay here and talk to you,” I had said, slightly indignant. After all, Felipe had not been back here in over 13 years, wouldn’t his family want to spend every moment possible with him?

“That’s what he does,” Felipe had said, not seeming to be bothered in the least. “He likes to talk to his friends.”

Hmph, I had thought, seeing my imagined scenes of this visit burst and pop like fireworks in my head.

”Felipe,” I whispered now. “Does your dad know we are leaving today?”

“I don’t know,” he said, taking out his shorts for the third time and refolding them, nervous about leaving.

“Maybe you should tell him,” I said. “He would want to know.”

Looking out the wrought iron window bars at his dad, I saw Felipe’s eyes start to water. Blinking rapidly, he folded his shorts a final time, laid them in the suitcase, and zipped it closed. He crossed the dirt yard to his father and spoke to him. My stomach knotted, hoping his father would not leave, knowing that this time Felipe would be saddened greatly. He did not leave. In fact, for the first time since our arrival he joined us in the kitchen for breakfast, though he sat against the wall and not at the table, listening and not eating. Only Felipe’s oldest sister, Filogonia (Filo for short) was home today, since his youngest sister, Eli, had gone to work early this morning. We sat around the table in silence picking at our scrambled eggs mixed with green beans, folding and unfolding the warm corn tortillas, afraid any words would bring tears. I mixed a spoonful of instant NesCafe into my mug of hot water, sniffing the faint aroma of coffee.

“¿Quieres papaya?” Filo asked me. “No,” I said. “¿Sandia?” she insisted, pushing the watermelon towards me. Unsure how to explain that sadness had killed my hunger, I smiled and took a plate full of fruit. Abelina, Felipe’s second oldest sister who lives a five minute walk across town, suddenly appeared and we were glad. She had come to say goodbye, but everyone pretended otherwise.

I listened to the rapid Spanish as I looked around the kitchen I would not see for awhile. Terracotta cooking pots of all sizes lined the wall and they glowed softly in the morning sun. The hot breeze was starting to gust through the glassless window openings cut in the cement block walls. After finishing my plate of fruit, I fingered the curvy, delicate edge of the small plate and stared at the pale pink flowers trying to decide what I should do next. Breathing in, I pushed back the white plastic chair, the scraping against the concrete floor making goosebumps rise on my arms. I left Felipe talking to his sisters and father and went back to our room. Carefully, I finished copying the Thank you letters I had worked on for the past three days from my notebook onto cards. Years of being shy in Spanish class had left me with terrible speaking skills, but I could write almost perfectly and was hoping to express my deep gratitude and joy to his family in a way I hadn’t yet been able to say.

It was 9:30 when I finished and I went back to the kitchen. “We should go see Sofia,” I suggest quietly to Felipe. “Where is she?” Felipe asked his sisters in Spanish. “At her house making tortas for a party at the school,” they replied. Abelina decided to come with us and we went out onto the rough cement street and three houses down, entering his sister Sofia’s gated yard. She did not look up when we walked in to the kitchen. Understanding, and not eager to start the process of farewells either, we each took a station, Sofia cutting the perfect bread rolls, Abelina scooping the tinga – chicken with red chile and garlic, Felipe slicing avocados, our niece Deysi putting on lettuce and tomato, me wrapping the finished sandwiches in tinfoil. Unfortunately, we finished quickly that way and paused not knowing what to do next.

Felipe and I went in to the next room where our niece Gabi was changing her baby cousin’s diaper. Felipe gave her a hug, saying we were leaving. I handed her the card I had wrote and felt my throat clench. I hugged her tight and left the room unable to speak. Felipe and I stood in the hallway for a minute, sobbing from somewhere deep inside and clinging to each other tightly, trying to squeeze the pain from our bodies. Felipe’s face reflected a deep despair I had not seen before and feelings of sorrow pierced my heart. With my arms around him I whispered in my broken voice that we would return soon. This time leaving was different. Whatever the outcome of that interview in Juarez, he would be back soon to see his sisters and his father. It would not be 13 years. Don’t be afraid sweetheart. We will come back together.

Breathing deeply, Felipe and I returned to the kitchen red-eyed and sniffling, causing his two sisters to burst in to tears. After more long goodbyes, words of thanks and promises to return soon, we walked out of Sofia’s house and back to his dad’s. There the process of farewell was repeated with his dad and oldest sister. Filo clasped me to her chest repeating words of love and well wishes which I understood perfectly. Holding her tightly to me, I knew that my lack of language skills would never hinder my relationship with Felipe’s family.

The feeling of love that surged as I put my arms around each sister told me our introduction had been successful. My heart ached at leaving them as much as it had when we left my own parents in El Paso, Texas. After six years together, constantly fearing the judgment of Felipe’s family in Mexico, three short weeks had truly made me a part of them. Even through the language differences, they were able to see my deep love and respect for Felipe and his culture. That was my test I realized. Not how rapidly I could answer questions or how well I could conjugate verbs. It did not matter that I was American. I wasn’t too pale or too plump, my hair wasn’t too thin nor my mannerisms offensive. My worries and insecurities were gone in that instant, pushed out of me by the warm embraces of my sister-in-law. Mi cuñada. All that mattered was my love for their younger brother and his love for me. Reluctantly I released Filo, handing her the card I had made. “Regrasamos muy pronto,” I said. We will return very soon. And I meant it.

3-0 is it

Not much to report from the birthday evening except a lot of greasy food and a little too much fun at the Karaoke station... Just watching of course. Even with 30 years of practice, my pouty lip did not score me an extra beer. Felipe is just so responsible! =)

Happy birthday to Me!

Well, I guess it is only fitting that I put some pictures up on here. Today is it. The big 3-0. I know my mother will love to comment on here so I am making a blog entry just for her. So even though my grandma (the one who turned 100 on Monday) called me a little rosebud when I was born, Felipe thinks I look more like a cross-eyed little alien. Whatever, I say! Hospital pictures are never cute.


Then there is my lovely godmother who sang happy birthday to me today and has started calling me old lady. This is a picture of her and her husband (Marlene & Butch) my godparents, at my baptism in Sept 1978. What a little angel I was. Yes, she is my mother's best friend and has been for almost 50 years so she has the same lovely sense of humor as my mom. Though I am still less than half both of their ages I will let them have their fun for a day.
Here I am at my 3rd birthday lovin' the blonde. Why does hair have to darken as we get older? And then gray on top of it? So very sad. Though I have many pictures in cowboy attire from this part of my life, I chose the fun loving daredevil on the monkey bars to show what a brave child I was. Plus this is part of the brief period in my life before I started to wear glasses (right around my 5th birthday).

What birthday post wouldn't be complete without a senior picture pose? Ah yes, a young 17 year old getting ready for her last year of high school. Luckily, I had discovered contacts by this age. I do have a series of photos with a gorgeous display of 80's glasses styles and hairdo's but, fortunately for me, I have control over this blog and choose not to post them.

Tonight I will celebrate entering my 4th decade of life by going to the fair with my hubby and best pal and eating all my favorite foods. At least with three of us it's only one third the calories, right! Oh well... I will console myself today with the fact that my lovely sister is in her 5th decade and all my friends (except 1) are closer to 31 than I am! =)

8's are lucky

Well, somebody says 8's are lucky. I guess I always thought of 7 as a lucky number... or 21 since that's my birthday. Although 8 is the month I was born so it was very lucky for my parents and big sister (they may agree on somedays and not agree on others). Two of my sister's kids were born in the 8th month also. My brother-in-law was born in the 8th month. I would consider that lucky for my sis and for me since he's been around since I was 3 and I got an automatic big brother. My grandmother was born on 8-18-08 and is celebrating her 100th birthday TODAY! The same date 8-18-08 but a whole century later. Amazing! I told my dad he's got good genes and I look forward to his 100th in 31.5 years but he doesn't seem as excited as I am about that. Apparently living to 100 isn't a goal of his although I'm trying to convince him to make it one.

Today also marks 4 months since Felipe and I crossed back in to the US. Now only 2 years and 8 months until he can become a citizen. You better believe I am counting the days... probably more than he is! Though it means more money and we are still reeling a little bit from the fees and 4.5 months of him not working. I certainly understand the process of legalization is not one to take lightly or a decision to be made quickly. With $4500 for the attorney (worth every penny!) $2500 in fees to the US Immigration Service, $9600 in Felipe's lost wages from not working, and over $6000 in travel expenses it is not a process for the faint of heart. True, we could have saved $3000 by having me stay home but I would have had to probably spend that much on phone bills and ulcer treatment from all my worries. I have heard news reports recently criticizing undocumented workers for not coming forward and trying to do things the right way. In my experience, the people I know send almost all of there extra income back to their families in Mexico to support them. They do not have the luxury of being able to save over $20,000 to then go to Mexico and take the risk that they may never come back. That is every penny of a years work for many of them. This is not to brag about how frugal Felipe and I are or how much money we were able to save. We worked very, very hard and had to do it over more than 3 years. He worked two full time jobs starting at 6am and finishing at 11pm Mon - Fri for the first year of our marriage. I am writing these figures because if you know anyone going through a process similar to ours it is important for them to understand the real costs before they get started. While that $9600 of lost work is not a number we had to PAY someone it was a lot bigger loss of income than we had predicted. People starting the process should be given accurate numbers by their attorneys so they are not blind-sided by the cost of legalization.

Alright, enough pontificating (I've been wanting to use that word for weeks!)

My final call for 8's being lucky is the fact that today, 8-18-08, Felipe is starting his new job with the company Bon Appetit, where he has been trying to get a job since coming back. They are a corporate food service company with excellent benefits and an excellent track record of employee treatment. He starts today at the Medtronic location. Bon Appetit also provides food for Target, St. Olaf College (Um Ya Ya), and Cue at the Guthrie to name a few.

All right- I gotta run and check on a house but everyone send out a birthday wish for my grandma Dorothy (who I am named after, by the way).

8-8-08, New beginnings

Someone told me that 8-8-08 is considered a lucky date by the Chinese, a symbol of new beginnings. It is one of the reasons why the opening of the Olympics was chosen to be today. I wouldn't say this week was full of new beginnings but it was definitely interesting.

To just add one more thing about the previously mentioned horrible one-day boss of Felipe's... He went to get his check for one day's work since the guy wouldn't give it to him the day he went to quit. Once he was there the boss argued with Felipe and said "I already paid you, why are you here?" Felipe said, "You didn't pay me you told me to come back." After a few more minutes of arguing with the "boss" Felipe said "Do you think I'm an idiot?" and the guy finally gave him a check for the day. The one day Felipe had worked he was told by co-workers that Latinos usually only last a week at the restaurant. I found that surprising since, in my experience, Latinos are hard workers and would rarely quit a job with good pay (which it was). I guess I now understand why they don't stay!

Anyway, enough about that guy. Shameful that an immigrant would treat a fellow immigrant so poorly but Felipe will hopefully never have to see him again and we CERTAINLY will never go to the restaurant to eat.

This past Sunday, one of my Mexican nieces turned 6. To celebrate the day Felipe and I went with some of his family to Prescott, Wisconsin to a park near the river. I must say his family always has the most amazing food! Even at a picnic they bring guacamole (which never seems to turn brown like mine), tomato and cilantro salad, Mexican rice... we grilled corn and cecina, which is thinly sliced, salted flank steak. Absolutely delicious! Very lean and sooooo good. They also put the tortillas on the grill to warm them up, because one would never be able to eat with a cold tortilla!! =)

We were celebrating and eating at one picnic table and there were many other tables of Americans around (pale ones like me =). After lunch Felipe and his family were playing beach volleyball. I was sitting at the picnic table with his niece Eugenia's neighbor chatting and I saw the group of American's start tossing around a volleyball and look over at the net. One of the guys, in his 40's or so, volunteered to go over to the Mexicans and see if they could use the net. As he went over and started talking to Felipe and Chencho (his nephew-in-law), the people at the picnic table exclaimed "he's talking to them!" like it was some sort of miracle. They repeated it a few times until I looked at them and said "they do speak English and they don't bite very hard." The Americans laughed and actually challenged Felipe's family to a volleyball match.

They played three games against each other and everyone on both teams had a great time. Then after they all shook hands and congratulated the winners (the Mexicans!) we each went back to our picnic tables. It turns out they were also celebrating a birthday and sang the Happy Birthday song almost at the same time we did. Each table cheered for the other after they sang.

It was a moment I needed to see after the sourness of Felipe's work experience. A moment of Americans, though skeptical at first, becoming open to the Mexicans. Not afraid. Enjoying their company, even experiencing some comraderee (not sure how to spell that). The American's fear and hesitation disappeared once they opened themselves up to my Mexican family. I hope more people will do this. Truly open their minds and hearts to another culture. Put aside their preconceived notions and play together. It seems very possible as I sit here watching the opening ceremonies of the Olympic games. Dozens of countries joinging together for 17 days, putting aside most political disagreements and just enjoying the event, striving to do their best.

Are my ideas of America's subcultures truly joining together idealistic? Maybe. Impossible? I hope not.

Well, I haven't posted anything for a long time and thought I should get one more in by the end of the month. These last couple weeks have been crazy. Felipe is working at his old job but he also worked at a restaurant in NE Minneapolis for a day. While he was at work the owner asked him about his wife, if she was American, and had he married me to get his visa. He asked these questions multiple times and in front of other employees. Now let me just vent for a little while...

First of all, clearly if he had met me he would quickly realize Felipe married me for my charm, humor, intelligence, good looks and all that other stuff... =) What really pisses me off is that because I am American and he is Mexican, people belittle our entire relationship and think Felipe had a motive for marrying me (other than the above mentioned wonderful qualities). Never mind the fact that I was the one bringing up the marriage issue after 5 years of dating and Felipe was content to continue our relationship as it was. His parents were together for over 20 years and had 12 kids and were never married. Marriage is for the "rich" in Mexico, Felipe says. The person you love and are with is your husband/wife with or without the ceremony.

Another thing that I find completely offensive is when I say my husband/boyfriend is from Mexico 80% of people respond with the question "Is he legal?" What kind of question is that? What about "How did you meet?" "How does he treat you?" "What does he do for a living?" "How old is he?" Even complete strangers will ask me that question. Doesn't anyone else think that is offensive? Is legality or illegality all a Mexican citizen has to offer for an identity? I feel like the people who ask me that question are waiting for an answer from me and, based on that answer, they will already have their opinions about Felipe formed without even setting eyes on him or starting up a conversation. For me that question is as personal as asking to see someone's tax returns from the previous year, or quizing them about details in their sex life.

One of my other favorites is "How did he get here?" People ask that question and it seems like they are waiting to hear of a harrowing trek through the desert dodging bullets and almost dying of thirst. It seems like such a morbid question. Why not ask him "Why he came to the US?" "When did he come?" No one asks "How." ummm... a plane, bus, car, taxi.... really... "How" is about transportation and I wouldn't ask someone from England or Australia to tell me "How" they got to the US.

I realize I'm ranting so I will stop at this point. I just have been very upset by that boss of Felipe's. Felipe came home feeling like absolute crap. Like he was worthless. Like his 8 years of cooking skills didn't matter. His 13 years of learning English didn't matter. We both felt dirty, sick, sad, like our love didn't matter. Like all the challenges we've overcome these past 8 years and especially past 6 months were for nothing.

All because some jerk decided to put us in a box and judge us by our nationality. That's the power of a "pendejo," pardon my Spanish.

Going North to find South

What in the world does that mean you may be thinking.... True, I'm not even sure myself. Currently, I am amid towering red pines and lairs of woodticks near Cloquet, Minnesota. When I saw the ad for a Travel Writing class taught by Catherine Watson, former travel editor of the Star Tribune, I couldn't resist. True, my vacation days for 2008 number almost as many as my work days. However, that just seemed to increase my urge even more. Catherine is a writer I have admired for many years, partly due to the fact she was a lead female in a typically male profession, and partly do the the lyrical quality of her writing and the place it puts me in when I read it.

This very blog is what stirred the deep desire to spend a week away from home writing. I know a number of people have read this online journal since my return, probably as many as read it while I was away. I look back now at my writing and cring at flatness and lack of detail. I am sure I will now spend the next week or so obsessively going back and adding for my March and Aprel entries, hotel and place names, antecdotes I had been to rushed to mention and spell-checking for goodness sake, a feature I really wish google would fix on this website.

Through a week of constructive feedback and an amazing support group of writers, I have learned how to better capture the emotions of Felipe and I's journey. Maybe I was too fearful before to put them on the page because I felt like putting them in black and white would make them harder to get through. Now I know I have a larger story to tell. Not just of a couples driving trip through Mexico but our trip through the immigration process. The decisions we had to make before and after we were married, the risks that were involved, the actual laws that stood in our way. I look forward to expanding on these topics and hope the momentum I feel from this week of class will carry me through the future weeks and help me to flesh out the feelings and bring our reality to others. I'm not sure if this will happen on the blog or not. Maybe snippets here and there. Only time will tell.

PS. Felipe was offered a job this week (3 actually). After 10 weeks of looking, his old job at D.Brian's Deli in downtown Mpls actually created a position for him, offering him a 9% raise. He took the job for now because it will provide him with enough time to continue his pursuit of a US high school diploma. Something he hopes to have by next June. It has been strange to be away from each other for 4 nights after the daily contact we've had since the month of February. I guess I should have left home earlier to write! Time apart can be a little bit of a blessing I guess.

What's in a name?

I guess neither Felipe nor I knew how hard it would be to find a job after he returned. Ironically, employment seemed to come much easier before he got his permanent residency. I guess it could be a sign of the economy. Of course I have started to get suspicious because we'll see a new job posting online for a restaurant and it says to apply in person and he'll go the very next day and when he walks in they say "sorry, we aren't hiring." I don't know the proper term for my suspicions... it's not pessimism... I can't think of the word... not really skeptism either. ugh! whatever the word is it is FRUSTRATING.

I hate the assumption people make about him from his appearance or voice or name. He has told me repeatedly that he wants our kids (when and if we have them... don't get excited, I'm NOT pregnant!) to have my last name which makes me a little bit sad. We discuss it very seriously because I think his family would think that it was my fault and absolutely horrible to not take on their father's name. I feel like we would be denying their Mexican heritage and teaching them a very bad lesson in balancing their bi-culturalness from the start. Felipe's arguement is that he doesn't want people to judge them immediately from seeing their name on paper. That is what he has always dealt with and is feeling it rather painfully now. Of course if they have an American first name like Fred or William (FYI- neither of those are ones we'd consider) instead of Frederico or Guillermo it might balance out the Latin last name.

It makes me ponder why I decided not to change my name. I mostly did it for business reasons but also, out of sheer laziness. The thought of contacting all the places my name is and changing it just exhausted me. Plus, Felipe was begging me to keep it. I still don't fully understand why. I could have done in the "Mexican" way and become Erin Dorothy Dominguez Johnson so in the US I would be Johnson but in Mexico I would be Dominguez. But again, out of laziness I did not. Contrary to what some people may think, my maintaining my last name had absolutely no feminist undertones. I didn't do it to "maintain my identity as a woman" or anything like that. I have never been much of a traditionalist on marriage as far as dreaming of my wedding day, big family, etc. I always wanted to be married, maybe have kids, be happy, etc, but never focused much time on it. However, as we talk of children this last name thing does become and issue. Luckily we still have plenty of time to discuss it and come to a decision before any kids are on the horizon...

This issue does remind me of why I was going to start the blog in the first place, before this whole visa process turned us upside down. Though most of you come to our blog through "erinandfelipe.com" the true title is "Minnesota & Mexico mix" and was supposed to be about cross-cultural bumps between the two of us. Names are apparently one large "tope" around our house (that's a "speedbump" for those of you who don't remember my irate typings from the road in Mexico).

Anyway, that's all for the evening. Best of our thoughts and prayers go out to our friends Amber and Alberto as they start this process this upcoming week! We're thinking of you!

The land of "plenty"

Or, more fittingly, the land of too much of everything. Here in the middle of the desert are dozens of mega-hotels with 2000+ rooms each, enormous buffets on every corner, neon lights and spot lights and glowing slot machines… The pure amount of consumption that happens in Las Vegas is absolutely insane. On our trip to the Grand Canyon we met a couple from New Zealand who said they just can’t believe “America.” They commented that they were not able to find any place that wasn’t stuffed with people and that Americans seem to consume so much. The said there is nothing in New Zealand like Vegas and there, for entertainment, most people do outdoor activities like kayaking and hiking. Felipe and I tried to explain that Vegas was not the city to judge America by. However, we started talking about it over dinner yesterday and decided maybe the Zealanders weren’t so far off.

In Mexico, where water is scarce (which is in almost the entire country) the use is strictly limited on a daily basis. You have one hour to pump as much as possible into your water holding tank. In the US, we see desert and decide to build one of the most energy-sucking, water-consuming cities in the country there. Why? Maybe gambling and girls were the only thing that could get people to visit this dry, wickedly hot area. Now there are dance clubs, “gentlemen’s and ladies clubs”, and free drinks while you gamble. I must admit that Felipe and I did take advantage of the last one but penny machine hopping and pretending to gamble until the drink lady came our way. Of course, by the third margarita I really did put my $5 in the machine but luckily 500 pennies really do last a long time...

PHOTOS- Gardens inside the Bellagio

It will be a long time before we come to Vegas again (don't tell Felipe I said that!). Felipe does love it with all the lights and things to do and I like to come here because it makes him happy. We usually go to shows like Cirque de Soleil or comedy shows but we decided to spend our “fun” money on the Grand Canyon excursion instead this time. It was a good choice since we both had wanted to see it for years. The business trip was worth it and I wish I was attending the classes the rest of this week but unfortunately I didn’t have time in my schedule. We just are not dance or clubbing or drinking people so Vegas does have a limited appeal. It is amazing to see the large size of the casinos and the fact that construction keeps going on. And the shopping would be great if I knew (or cared) anything about fashion. Everything from Jimmy Choo shoes, Armani suits, and $4000 prada purses! You can walk around for hours just looking at everything there is to see and being amazed, overwhelmed and slightly disgusted.

Oh well... We just ran in to our friend Karla at the airport here in Vegas. Small world!

A few follow up notes: There were a ton of people selling time shares to condos in Vegas. We were attacked at the entrance to every hotel and casino with the question "Are you two married?" finally, after the 4th day I said to one of them, "Yes, but not to each other." He didn't really have a response to that and Felipe and I walked away without being bothered. Totally annoying!

This was part of the memorial put up to honor the firefighters and police of September 11th outside of the NY, NY hotel. Of course I took the photo for my dad but I thought it was a neat memorial too.

One last thing... Our hotel Excalibur is home to the "Thunder from Down Under" show featuring Australia's hottest male exports. I couldn't quite convince Felipe to go though =)

Live from Las Vegas

Yes, we are in Vegas. I surprised Felipe with the trip and luckily I'll get to write it off as a business expense! I was at an investment real estate class two weeks ago and the instructor kept referencing this additional class and when I looked it up I saw it is only offered 3 times this year... Vegas, Arkansas, and Pennsylvania. Needless to say I jumped on the chance to take it and surprise Felipe since that is something he was really excited to do (go to Vegas). I was intending to upload some pictures but the internet kiosk I'm using does not accept USB ports. We got a steal on a tickets/hotel package (because we are staying at Excalibur which is a cheesy, medieval theme and very kid friendly. It is also a very good business opportunity for me as well or I wouldn't have done it. After this class I will be able to become a CRS (Certified Residential Specialist). Of the 1.4 million members of the National Association of Realtors only about 37,000 have a CRS designation. It requires 75 career transactions or $10 million in sales volume (I have both) and 120 hours of specialized real estate classes. And of course, as with any sort of "club", a hefty annual fee.

Anyway, we flew in Saturday evening and got to our hotel about 7. We then took a taxi over to the Rio and waited in line for an hour to go to the seafood buffet. Both of us ate about 4 pounds of crab legs, not to mention shrimp and mini lobster tails. It was pricey but awesome! This picture is of Felipe with only HALF the legs we ate. Delicious on one level, disgusting on another! Surprisingly, neither of us got sick.

Today (Sunday) we took a bus tour to the Grand Canyon since my deal with Felipe was we would not gamble more than $30 each the whole 4 days. It shouldn't be too hard since we are going to be in class all day Monday and Tuesday and attending networking events in the evening. We fly back Wednesday.

The Grand Canyon was absolutely beautiful! We were excited to go since we had been to the Copper Canyon in Mexico which is longer and deeper. They are completely different experiences though. CC is full of pines all the way to the bottom while GC is all red striped rock. The time on the bus was a little long but we got the tickets at half price by buying them online instead of on the phone. I can't remember the website.

This picture just makes me think of the Shrek movie when Donkey says "I'm a donkey on the edge." There aren't many bigger edges than the Grand Canyon!