Hey folks,I am in Mexico and I am happy. I promised a "long email" and this gives a new meaning to that description, so either delete it or grab a cup of coffee and come experience Mexico for a bit.Flying into Mexico City , Marlene and I were so excited, but watching Jesus’ excitement was even more fun. He fell asleep before we took off from Charleston and slept through the landing in Atlanta , so when we got on the flight to Mex City , it was his first knowledge of our trip. We had been singing a Spanish song to him in the airport… “Volamos, volamos”…and when we got on the plane it was as if for the first time he realized why we had been singing that. He gasped, his already big eyes opened even wider and he threw himself across the three seats to the window. There he stayed, nose pressed against it, only turning every few minutes to gasp and show us what he was seeing. He fell asleep after about 30 minutes and slept soundly until I woke him up to see our landing in Mexico City .
We went easily through customs and were given visas for 180 days. I understand that is quite unusual. Generally, they only give you exactly the amount of days you’re asking for ( 17 in our case). So, maybe I’ll stay for 180…We were met at the airport by Yuri, a friend of Marlene’s from her Compa days who I have known only through facebook and email. It was sweet to watch their reunion after a year apart. Jesus’ family appeared shortly after Yuri. In true Mexican style, they came aunts, uncles, grandparents, babies, and second cousins twice removed. He went to them easily. I had more trouble letting him go than I thought I would. We ate lunch with Yuri and then jumped on a 2 hour bus ride to Cuernavaca . Once here, we took a taxi to David and Martha’s house where I saw another sweet reunion. This family loves Marlene so much and easily accepted another guera (white person).
David and Martha are incredibly Christians and so humble, loving, and genuine. They love other cultures and want their kids exposed to them. They are a beautiful to watch as a couple and take so much joy in being parents. None of Martha’s sisters have been able to have children, so each of these four are a miracle. There are four kids: Sheyla (10), Diana (7), Davidcito (3), and Daniel (14 mo.). All of the children were shy of me for the first hour or so, but slowly Sheyla and Davidcito and I began to make friends. The baby cried when I looked at him for too long. Seeing blue eyes for the first time must be quite traumatic. Diana is just very shy in general. When she talks, you have to lean in as it is just barely above a whisper, but boy does she have a lot to say! We have become very good friends in the last 24 hours. Davidcito adores me. He is spoiled rotten, though, and that has caused us to have a few minor disagreements. For example, I have the nasty characteristic of being the only person in the family to say “no” to him on a regular basis. Yesterday we had a major battle over taking turns, after which we ignored each other for a solid hour. I think we were mutually disgusted with each other. Then, slowly he began sneaking up to me and saying, “hola Mandi”, slipping his little hand into mine, until finally at bed time he asked me to forgive him and told me he loved me. What’s not to love? He also wears a superman costume, complete with the cape, 24 hours a day. He will not take it off to bathe, so he smells a bit nasty and there is a thin brown crust on most of the outfit, but couldn’t be more loveable. The baby has decided that blue eyes are actually an attractive quality in a friend, and even cried and tried to follow me when I left the room today. I foresee a return visit to this place in the future. : )
Yesterday morning, we ate a typically healthy Mexican breakfast. Martha is very health conscious and cooks with little salt and fat, including lots of fresh fruits and veggies in every meal. That’s a great change from Honduras . Since this email is not going to any of my Honduran friends, I will say that Mexico is growing on me in ways that Honduras never did. I am seeing things here that were missing there. Granted there are things that I am missing about Honduras , like knowing my way around the city and how much a taxi driver should charge for a ride to the centro, but overall I like Mexico more than HN. Marlene and I went for a run through the city Friday morning before breakfast and for the first time, I noticed the altitude affecting me.
This morning (Sunday), we walked the city for a little over 4 hours and it felt like as much of a workout as when I run a few miles in the morning. We came back to the house hot and sweaty, only to find out that the water tank is empty. The water has still not come this morning.On Friday afternoon, we drove out to Atlatlaucán with the family. It is a small pueblo about 2 hours from Cuernavaca . We went in the family’s car in true Mexican style. David drove, Marlene in the front seat with Sheyla on her lap. Martha was in the back with the baby on her lap, I held Davidcito and Diana was in the middle of us. It’s a small car, but I thought we could handle the heat and being pressed up against each other for a short drive. However, we had not yet reached the car’s passenger carrying capacity, so we stopped to pick up Martha’s sister, Jilly. I looked around the car and was not exactly sure where we could put her, but somehow the door opened and next thing we new, she was in. Now I had a sleeping, drooling, and very dirty “Superman” on half of my lap, while the other half of me was wedged under Diana. There was bad traffic and it felt like a 6 hour ride, but when we got there, I couldn’t even remember why I had complained. This pueblo is like what you see in a movie. Typical flat, two story Mexican houses with animals grazing outside, mango, plum, fig, orange, and lime trees growing out over the yard, giving perfect shade to sit and talk for hours…which is pretty much what we did…for two days. : )The kitchen for the house was a separate building outside, where they made us delicious food over a fire pit stove. We climbed trees, ate fresh mangos, walked into the village for tacos, toured a beautiful old Spanish church, and rode into the campo in the back of a truck for a festival. Again, in true Mexican style, the festival was supposed to begin at 9am. We arrived promptly at 12:30 and didn’t see hide or hair of any other festival goers until 2:00. When they did come, though, they came with all the enthusiasm of a Mexican celebration.
We had carne asada (long, thin strips of seasoned meat on a grill), homemade tortillas, and jalapeno sauce, accompanied by a full Mariachi style band who made a long, loud appearance for the occasion. The lead singer was a toothless old man with a decent voice, but a beer bottle always in his hand. After a few songs (and a few more beers), he got up the courage to come talk to me. My blue eyes have a hypnotic effect on Mexican men. He leaned across the table, droopy eyes beaming, and spraying spit with ever toothless grin. “What is your name?”, he asked in English. Here I must interject that “Mandie” sounds an awful lot like “mande”, the Spanish word for “huh?”. So when I responded “Mandie”, he politely leaned even closer and, raising his voice and speaking ever so slightly slower, “WHAT EES YOUR NAIME?”. “Mandie”, I said, louder and a little more annoyed than before. This is a common conversation to have with Mexicans. “WHAT IS YOUR…”, was all he got out before Marlene leaned over and said, quite frustrated and slowly, “Her name is Mandie. It sounds like Mande, but it’s Mand – IE.” He proceeded to talk to me for a good while, telling me how beautiful my eyes were, how good his English was, and finally dedicating a song to me. He talked through the whole song, though, so I don’t know what it was. The rest of the afternoon was spent absorbing good natured jokes from the family: ¨Please invite us to the wedding…, etc¨. I was so pleased that they joked with me. That = acceptance in a Mexican pueblo.Yesterday was spent walking, walking, and walking…learning my way around the city.
In the early afternoon, we went to the home of Marce. She lives in the kind of housing that reminded me of the drug bust scene in American Gangster, but without all the shooting. Though, last week they arrested the man upstairs for killing his mother and keeping her in a pod on the stove for almost a year. Anyway...Marce's house is the gathering place for a fun group of single girls in their late 20’s. Since Marlene worked with mostly college age and young professionals here, these girls were her close group of friends. Marce cannot leave tha house as she cares for her mom who had a stroke a few years ago. Since Marce can´t go out, the girls come to her.
Doña Pali can barely walk by herself, but is so full of joy and has an incredible gift for recognizing sadness in others and then reaching out to them. She only says one word, “paratopera”. She made it up herself and it means whatever she needs it to mean. We watched a movie together, the 8 or nine of us, in a room smaller that many bathrooms. It was beautiful to be there with those girls, with Marlene, with Doña Pali. At one point she looked over at me, a stranger in her house. I smiled and she reached for my hand, stroking it for several minutes. She looked deep into my eyes and whispered, “paratopera”. I knew what it meant.Wow. Talk about a long email. I may or may not write a long one like this again. I have had little time to journal on this trip, so this email has served to help me process much of what is happening, leaving room for me to let Jesus do more. He is redemming many past experiences through the experiences in the trip so far. For that I am grateful and ready for more and more and more.
Right now, the rest of the trip looks like:
-A conference tomorrow night on emotional violence
-A trip to Acapulco so Marlene can rest and I can surf (Google “ Acapulco clavadistas”, we’re going to see them, too)
-a possible trip to Mexico City with Yuri to visit history and art museums
-crepes tonight and a movie with the girls at Marce's
Much love to you all and thanks for reading the world’s longest email (there will soon be pictures on facebook),
Mandie
We went easily through customs and were given visas for 180 days. I understand that is quite unusual. Generally, they only give you exactly the amount of days you’re asking for ( 17 in our case). So, maybe I’ll stay for 180…We were met at the airport by Yuri, a friend of Marlene’s from her Compa days who I have known only through facebook and email. It was sweet to watch their reunion after a year apart. Jesus’ family appeared shortly after Yuri. In true Mexican style, they came aunts, uncles, grandparents, babies, and second cousins twice removed. He went to them easily. I had more trouble letting him go than I thought I would. We ate lunch with Yuri and then jumped on a 2 hour bus ride to Cuernavaca . Once here, we took a taxi to David and Martha’s house where I saw another sweet reunion. This family loves Marlene so much and easily accepted another guera (white person).
David and Martha are incredibly Christians and so humble, loving, and genuine. They love other cultures and want their kids exposed to them. They are a beautiful to watch as a couple and take so much joy in being parents. None of Martha’s sisters have been able to have children, so each of these four are a miracle. There are four kids: Sheyla (10), Diana (7), Davidcito (3), and Daniel (14 mo.). All of the children were shy of me for the first hour or so, but slowly Sheyla and Davidcito and I began to make friends. The baby cried when I looked at him for too long. Seeing blue eyes for the first time must be quite traumatic. Diana is just very shy in general. When she talks, you have to lean in as it is just barely above a whisper, but boy does she have a lot to say! We have become very good friends in the last 24 hours. Davidcito adores me. He is spoiled rotten, though, and that has caused us to have a few minor disagreements. For example, I have the nasty characteristic of being the only person in the family to say “no” to him on a regular basis. Yesterday we had a major battle over taking turns, after which we ignored each other for a solid hour. I think we were mutually disgusted with each other. Then, slowly he began sneaking up to me and saying, “hola Mandi”, slipping his little hand into mine, until finally at bed time he asked me to forgive him and told me he loved me. What’s not to love? He also wears a superman costume, complete with the cape, 24 hours a day. He will not take it off to bathe, so he smells a bit nasty and there is a thin brown crust on most of the outfit, but couldn’t be more loveable. The baby has decided that blue eyes are actually an attractive quality in a friend, and even cried and tried to follow me when I left the room today. I foresee a return visit to this place in the future. : )
Yesterday morning, we ate a typically healthy Mexican breakfast. Martha is very health conscious and cooks with little salt and fat, including lots of fresh fruits and veggies in every meal. That’s a great change from Honduras . Since this email is not going to any of my Honduran friends, I will say that Mexico is growing on me in ways that Honduras never did. I am seeing things here that were missing there. Granted there are things that I am missing about Honduras , like knowing my way around the city and how much a taxi driver should charge for a ride to the centro, but overall I like Mexico more than HN. Marlene and I went for a run through the city Friday morning before breakfast and for the first time, I noticed the altitude affecting me.
This morning (Sunday), we walked the city for a little over 4 hours and it felt like as much of a workout as when I run a few miles in the morning. We came back to the house hot and sweaty, only to find out that the water tank is empty. The water has still not come this morning.On Friday afternoon, we drove out to Atlatlaucán with the family. It is a small pueblo about 2 hours from Cuernavaca . We went in the family’s car in true Mexican style. David drove, Marlene in the front seat with Sheyla on her lap. Martha was in the back with the baby on her lap, I held Davidcito and Diana was in the middle of us. It’s a small car, but I thought we could handle the heat and being pressed up against each other for a short drive. However, we had not yet reached the car’s passenger carrying capacity, so we stopped to pick up Martha’s sister, Jilly. I looked around the car and was not exactly sure where we could put her, but somehow the door opened and next thing we new, she was in. Now I had a sleeping, drooling, and very dirty “Superman” on half of my lap, while the other half of me was wedged under Diana. There was bad traffic and it felt like a 6 hour ride, but when we got there, I couldn’t even remember why I had complained. This pueblo is like what you see in a movie. Typical flat, two story Mexican houses with animals grazing outside, mango, plum, fig, orange, and lime trees growing out over the yard, giving perfect shade to sit and talk for hours…which is pretty much what we did…for two days. : )The kitchen for the house was a separate building outside, where they made us delicious food over a fire pit stove. We climbed trees, ate fresh mangos, walked into the village for tacos, toured a beautiful old Spanish church, and rode into the campo in the back of a truck for a festival. Again, in true Mexican style, the festival was supposed to begin at 9am. We arrived promptly at 12:30 and didn’t see hide or hair of any other festival goers until 2:00. When they did come, though, they came with all the enthusiasm of a Mexican celebration.
We had carne asada (long, thin strips of seasoned meat on a grill), homemade tortillas, and jalapeno sauce, accompanied by a full Mariachi style band who made a long, loud appearance for the occasion. The lead singer was a toothless old man with a decent voice, but a beer bottle always in his hand. After a few songs (and a few more beers), he got up the courage to come talk to me. My blue eyes have a hypnotic effect on Mexican men. He leaned across the table, droopy eyes beaming, and spraying spit with ever toothless grin. “What is your name?”, he asked in English. Here I must interject that “Mandie” sounds an awful lot like “mande”, the Spanish word for “huh?”. So when I responded “Mandie”, he politely leaned even closer and, raising his voice and speaking ever so slightly slower, “WHAT EES YOUR NAIME?”. “Mandie”, I said, louder and a little more annoyed than before. This is a common conversation to have with Mexicans. “WHAT IS YOUR…”, was all he got out before Marlene leaned over and said, quite frustrated and slowly, “Her name is Mandie. It sounds like Mande, but it’s Mand – IE.” He proceeded to talk to me for a good while, telling me how beautiful my eyes were, how good his English was, and finally dedicating a song to me. He talked through the whole song, though, so I don’t know what it was. The rest of the afternoon was spent absorbing good natured jokes from the family: ¨Please invite us to the wedding…, etc¨. I was so pleased that they joked with me. That = acceptance in a Mexican pueblo.Yesterday was spent walking, walking, and walking…learning my way around the city.
In the early afternoon, we went to the home of Marce. She lives in the kind of housing that reminded me of the drug bust scene in American Gangster, but without all the shooting. Though, last week they arrested the man upstairs for killing his mother and keeping her in a pod on the stove for almost a year. Anyway...Marce's house is the gathering place for a fun group of single girls in their late 20’s. Since Marlene worked with mostly college age and young professionals here, these girls were her close group of friends. Marce cannot leave tha house as she cares for her mom who had a stroke a few years ago. Since Marce can´t go out, the girls come to her.
Doña Pali can barely walk by herself, but is so full of joy and has an incredible gift for recognizing sadness in others and then reaching out to them. She only says one word, “paratopera”. She made it up herself and it means whatever she needs it to mean. We watched a movie together, the 8 or nine of us, in a room smaller that many bathrooms. It was beautiful to be there with those girls, with Marlene, with Doña Pali. At one point she looked over at me, a stranger in her house. I smiled and she reached for my hand, stroking it for several minutes. She looked deep into my eyes and whispered, “paratopera”. I knew what it meant.Wow. Talk about a long email. I may or may not write a long one like this again. I have had little time to journal on this trip, so this email has served to help me process much of what is happening, leaving room for me to let Jesus do more. He is redemming many past experiences through the experiences in the trip so far. For that I am grateful and ready for more and more and more.
Right now, the rest of the trip looks like:
-A conference tomorrow night on emotional violence
-A trip to Acapulco so Marlene can rest and I can surf (Google “ Acapulco clavadistas”, we’re going to see them, too)
-a possible trip to Mexico City with Yuri to visit history and art museums
-crepes tonight and a movie with the girls at Marce's
Much love to you all and thanks for reading the world’s longest email (there will soon be pictures on facebook),
Mandie
Posts
1 comment:
It occurs to me now after re-reading my post, that I talked about Jesus without explaining who he is. Jesus is the 16 month son of my friend Lupe. Lupe is from Mexico, but because of her job, has not yet been able to take Jesus back to his native country. So... I offered to take him with me. We got all of the official paperwork together and made it in and out of Mexico with no problems whatsoever. In fact, he was such a fun little travelling companion that Marlene and I would both gladly take him on any future adventures. : )
Post a Comment