Category Archives: Things I’ve Learned

A Crappy Week? Or a Great Week?

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No point lying – this week was difficult, with more bad situations than good.  Or at least that is how I felt at first.  Bad things always take more of our attention, more of our energy, more of our focus. If we’re not careful they will settle in our hearts and become larger than they need to be.  That was my test this week.  Was it a crappy week or was it a great week with a couple of crappy moments?   I mostly failed the test, but when I sit here and think about how to recap our week, I remember we had a lot of great experiences too.  So for the sake of being real I will share some of the bad stuff – but no need to dwell on the details:

  • We had some stuff stolen and lost some stuff – the golf cart keys, Grant’s phone, a watch, a big tub of bungee cords from the back of the truck. Aargh…..
  • I didn’t feel so great.  I had an ear infection and pink eye – painful, plugged ears and red, goopy eyes.
  • We had to take baby Alison to the hospital twice – she had a bad flu and seems to have an allergy to milk. The pediatrician tried to convince her 15-year-old mama that she needs to nurse the baby but she’s embarrassed to discuss that.  She’s 15.
  • We first began the process of importing Grant’s trailer full of tools in September. We have hit roadblock after roadblock.  Months of bureaucracy.  Come back in 3 months.  Bring more papers. Bring different papers.  Pay more pesos.  We finally made it to the final stage of getting the actual plates but needed one last inspection.  We took all the papers – stamped by every imaginable Mexican department – to the inspection place.   And then….. No.  The serial number on our Saskatchewan registration form does not match the serial number on the paperwork done at the border in Nogales.  WHAAAT??
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    Doomed inspection

    In all these steps no one had noticed that the trailer manufacturer had placed 2 VIN stickers on the trailer.  Saskatchewan had recorded one of them.  Mexican had recorded the other.  And they don’t match.  “Okay but senor, you can see both stickers are there.  It is clearly the same trailer.”  No sorry – you will have to take the trailer back to the border and start over.  Have you ever seen 2 gringos stand and just stare blankly at a Mexican official – no language, no emotion.  Just unbelief.  Our only hope is that he said to come talk to his supervisor on Tuesday – maybe he will have a solution?

 

BUT, we had some fun too.  Yesterday we went roller blading AND boogie boarding.  One afternoon we took the golf cart and the Bucerias map and drove up and down a whole bunch of streets and neighborhoods we had never experienced before.  Everywhere we went people waved at us and children ran alongside our cart.  We found new restaurants, new tiendas (stores), new potholes and speed bumps and dirt piles.

Friday we bought a piñata for little Kevin.  Last week when we picked up Jose, his little 2-year-old nephew Kevin kept saying he wanted a piñata.  I have no idea where he got that idea from but he was very serious in his request.  So I told him I would bring a piñata on Friday when we came back.  Of course, I promptly forgot my promise and on Friday morning Grant reminded me.  My first thought was “Oh, he won’t remember I said that”, but after Grant gave me the look of incredulous shock, I remembered how important it is for these children to be able to trust our word and to be able to depend on us.  So we went piñata and candy shopping in a little shop in San Vicente.  The only piñatas they had were far bigger than Kevin but I filled that giant Spiderman with a pile of candy and we delivered it to Kevin.  He was so excited – I expect Kevin has never had anything given just to him.  In a few weeks his 16 year old mama will give him a brother and he will have even less for himself.  We couldn’t stick around to play with him as we had to take baby Alison to the hospital but before we drove away I saw a whole bunch of 2 year olds – most with few clothes, no shoes, droopy diapers – gathering to have their own piñata party in the dirt.

Last night we had good friends over.  I grumbled about our week.  I think I whined.  But as we sat in our candlelit garden sipping coffee and eating cake, I remembered that I really love living here and believe I am placed here for a purpose.  I don’t love everything that happened this week, but I know that every good thing comes with opposition.  I believe in spiritual battles.  And I believe in being bold in spite of it all.  I believe that this week Kevin needed a piñata and that Alison needed to get to a doctor.  I believe that 12 children will have better lives because they learned a couple new English words and were kissed on the forehead by Maestra.  I believe in the Good Shepherd who leads me through the valley and to the still waters on the other side.  So I just step out in faith and say “This was a good week”.

Can I Be Content?

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The last months have been a tug of war of emotions – and I am the one in the middle of the rope that keeps getting pulled back and forth over the line in the dirt.  We spent much of the winter and spring settling into our Mexican neighborhood before returning to Canada in April to get our house finished and up for sale.  We headed back to Bucerias at the end of June to prepare for the arrival of Team Restore – the great group of warriors who joined us to work their butts off at the orphanage and surrounding communities.    But it was a quick trip and we are back in Lumsden to finish packing.  Grant’s business here is sold but he has a LOT of tools he will be taking to Mexico to assist in his business there – Banderas Bay Enterprises.  Grant would not be himself without his tools, so he has been sorting and boxing and I have been cataloguing and valuing them for the Mexican border people.  We have also been sorting and selling our personal stuff, and this week we really got serious about it all, packing in final boxes and recording every item in my fancy Excel spreadsheet.  Nothing is ever easy in Mexico, and importing our belongings will be an uncertain adventure.

It is in this area of material possessions that I have been struggling.  Our house in Mexico is simple.  The road out front is dirt so the house is often dusty.  It is hot and noisy and the kitchen is tiny and I have a clothesline instead of a dryer.  The shower spits at me.  The kitchen sink has no cold water.  But I love it and feel totally comfortable there.  Then I come home to this beautiful home that my husband built with his own hands and it is clean and quiet and peaceful.  The kitchen is amazing with every type of convenience.  Not only do I have a dryer but it has a million settings and sings a pretty song when it wants my attention.  The shower has 6 jet things and an overhead rain shower.  And a hand held faucet just to be sure.  I love it and feel totally comfortable there – and that makes me feel really guilty.  So I have been processing this a lot.  I know in my head poverty is not something to strive for – it is not more holy or more loving to be poor.  So how do I reconcile my two worlds?

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Recently I read a Scripture verse that really put it all in perspective:

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 

I have read that verse a million times – and I always focused on the importance of being content when life sucks, when I am sick or broke or someone has let me down.  But when I read it last week it hit me that it is also important to be content when I have plenty.  It is okay to just appreciate the blessings when they appear – to be thankful and grateful and most importantly generous with them.

ensuite-home-for-sale-lumsden-saskatchewan-medium-6278443So tonight I think I’ll relax in the Jacuzzi while I watch a movie in my spa bathroom – and tomorrow I’ll pack up more of my ‘stuff’ in anticipation of the day when I will wrestle with some Mexican border guy about why I need all this crap!

My Other Favorite Country

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Not sure why, but for some reason I am happiest when I am hanging out with cute Spanish speaking children – and last week I was able to visit my other favorite group of kids in Cuba.  This was the 5th year I have taken a team of divers to train at a Sports school in Matanzas, Cuba.  This is part of my job which I think is pretty dang cool.  Some of the Cuban divers have been at the school since the first year and they seemed as excited to see me as I was to see them.  Lots of hugs, lots of kisses, lots of Spanglish charades.

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Cuba reminds me of Mexico in many ways, but under the surface it is really completely different.  There seems to be a common attitude within the people of Latin American countries– a love of family, a simplicity of lifestyle, a lack of material expectations, a pride in music and culture, a unity with the outdoors, a joy in friends and life, a curiosity and acceptance of us visitors.  But there are also differences.  Mexico is very entrepreneurial.   Old women set up a couple of tables in the street and call it a restaurant, teens juggle on street corners, children sell gum on the beach.  For good or bad, everyone works to earn a small wage because there is no such thing as government social services.  If you want to eat, you have to work.  In Cuba, the government takes care of the basic needs of its people and it is very difficult to get ahead in any way.  The people are provided with the necessities but the provisions are sparse and there is little opportunity to have or do anything beyond the bare minimum.    In both countries, the children I work with are very poor but for different reasons.

 

The Sports school we visit each year is a residential facility housing children who train in many different sports:  swimming, wrestling, track and field, soccer, basketball, water polo, synchro swimming, gymnastics and of course diving.  These children are aged 8-18 and have come from all over the country, identified as children who have exceptional talent and potential in their sport. Some ride buses 2 or 3 hours to visit home on the weekends, but many live too far away and only see home and family a couple of times a year.  These children have 1 or 2 outfits to wear, 1 bathing suit, 1 pair of shoes.  They live in bare dorms and eat simple meals.  Each year our Team Sask divers bring many suitcases (we call them Love Suitcases) filled with gifts from Value Village and Dollarama and our own closets to share with these sweet children.   They have much pressure on them to succeed – if they win a medal at an Olympic Games or World Championship, they will receive income for life.  This will completely change the lives of their families and I remember one little boy who said he wanted to be a good diver so his mother could move out of her small home with dirt floors.  Their coach will also get that same amount of lifetime income for that medal.  The income we are talking about is small.  Coaches, who are employees of the government, earn $20 per month.  A gold medal, will mean $100 a month for life.  But that does not mean they will be rich.  It is true that the government provides housing to the coaches for a couple of dollars a month, and provides a small food ration, but a pair or running shoes costs $100.  5 months’ salary for a coach to buy a pair of runners.  T-shirts are $14.  A litre of gasoline is $1.50.  So $20 does not go far.  That medal is coveted.  My good friend Jorge, who is now a coach, finished in 4th place at the Olympics – can you imagine the pain of 4th place when 3rd would give you basic security for life?

IMG_20160404_093459My favorite little boy is Roberto.  I met Roberto 4 years ago when he was 10.  For some reason he and I just hit it off and became fast friends.  I send him letters and gifts when I know a Cuban coach is coming to a meet in Canada.  I tell him to always work hard in diving and in school and in life.  Last year he gave me a little sculpture that had my name painted on the bottom.  “To Karen, Love Roberto”.  I have gotten to know his mom, who brings me fruit and sandwiches when she comes to visit Roberto at the school.   I know she misses her son as he has lived away from her for at least 4 years.  But I know she hopes perhaps he will win that medal.  Will he secure his future with this sport?  The odds are slim – but it is really the only hope they have.

 

Roberto and I in 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016 – he’s gone from a young boy to a handsome teen and always asks to take a picture with me. 

Cuba is changing …. the people are uncertain if they want the change.  They worry that they will become greedy or materialistic.  I worry for them too.  Changing a culture is hard.  In the meantime, Roberto and I each shed a tear as we said goodbye.  I gave him a leather bracelet to remember me by, he asked when I would be back.  Next year right?  Yes Roberto, next year.  Maybe I will come back sooner this time.  I will try.  Te amo mi amigo.

This is another new friend.  I met Charlie and his mom Daylin last year.  Daylin is trying to learn English and I am trying to learn Spanish, so we promised to be email pen pals. Charlie is one of the top divers at the school – he has a shot at that medal.  I cross my fingers for him… I cross my fingers for them all.

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Charlie and Emmanuel trying on their wrist guards we brought for them – an important piece of protective equipment that can’t be purchased in Cuba.  At first I wondered if I was being manipulated last year when Charlie’s mom asked if I could get him wrist guards – but what mom doesn’t want the best for her child?  What if there was just no way to provide the best except to ask a stranger for help? 

Adios Cuba.  Adios my friends.  I miss you already.

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Happy or Sad?

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This was a very “kiddy” week – it was fun and frustrating and exciting and sad – and I wonder if I will become numb to the roller coaster or if I will always feel such a range of emotions. On one hand I love the openness and apparent joy of Mexican children – they laugh loudly, hug warmly and embrace strangers with curiosity and openness. That makes me happy. On the other hand, in those same children I see pain and poverty and sickness and illiteracy and that makes me really mad. Today I felt a lot of mad. I think ‘mad’ is really just ‘sad’ mixed with particularly open eyes that sneak up on us every now and then. In this area of Banderas Bay, a place that is theoretically prosperous with the ever growing influx of tourist dollars, I expect the children to have enough. I am wrong. So we do what we can to make a difference and this week we had some great opportunities to deepen our relationships with our little friends.

One of our new tasks was to drive 5 of the Manos de Amor kids to Futbol Americano practice – not soccer but football. Grant and I have always believed that sport is important for children – it teaches discipline, structure, self-awareness, confidence, physical awareness and the ability to relate well to authority. Our daughters were gymnasts and we saw all of those things develop in their lives over many years of training and competition. Many of you have heard me joke (am I joking?) about opening a Gymnastics club down here. To invite Canadian and American teams to hold training camps here which will fund my real dream of providing sport to children who cannot afford it. So when Veronica asked if we would help drive some of the children to football practice 3 times a week we quickly agreed. I know this will be good for them – to run, to train, to compete.

So here we are sports parents again – but how different it looked this time around. By the third day, the other parents were welcoming us and talking to us, kindly smiling when they realized we could not understand much of what they were saying. The field was certainly not turf but a hard, uneven field of dirt. The stands we sat in were not bleachers but a pile of tires. When one of the boys needed to go to the bathroom, one of the other moms showed me where he could pee behind a car. When poor Jorge fell and cut his lip, there was no first aid kit, or ice, or even a Kleenex. He just spit blood on the field and kept going after I kissed his sweaty hair.   I noticed that our children brought glasses from home rather than water bottles, so thanks to a donation from our Canadian friend Sean, we bought them water bottles (with the cool ice thingies inside). We also bought a football and Grant went over this afternoon to play catch with the boys and help them work on their plays. I don’t really know if there are any star football players in the group, but they had fun and worked hard and I was proud and happy. Go Pirates!

Working hard on the field

Cheering from the ‘bleachers’… thanks Sean Westerman of Bloom Church for the water bottles and practice football!

Getting in some extra practice

On Friday, while Grant practiced football with the boys, I went on a walk around the block with some of the girls.  This was a walk with a purpose as Michelle, the only bilingual staff member at the orphanage, took her English lessons out of the classroom and into the neighborhood.  Note the pretty flowers they picked for my hair!

Today was the last day of school before Easter vacation and the children that have families that can take them went home for 2 weeks. We drove Jose, Laurentino and Isabel home to San Vicente with a bag of food we had brought from Vallarta Adventures.

Heading home for vacation – Jose always takes a nap on the ride

That’s when I got mad. Blocks and blocks and blocks of houses made of cardboard, and tarps and pallets. Dirty black moldy water standing in the streets with disease hidden within. My little Lupita with skin infections and bloody open sores on her legs. A dead rat lying right by the front gate. And yet giant smiles and hugs because Lupita does not know that this is not how all children live. She is thin and next week I will try to take her to a doctor to get some cream for her legs. Maybe some children’s multi-vitamins to strengthen her body. I know that for the next two weeks these children will be home with little adult supervision as their mom works many hours a day. I worry if they will be okay alone.

Lupita greets us
Pallets for walls
Lupita and her little dog
Family first
Note the dead rat under the bush

Soon we will be heading home to Canada for a few weeks to pack up the rest of our belongings and Grant’s tools to finish the move we have started. I can’t imagine leaving these children even for a few weeks. Will someone be able to drive them to Futbol? Will Lupita’s family have enough? Will the many children in the orphanage who have been abandoned by mothers and fathers understand that we will return as fast as we can?

We are happy here – and we are sad here. Maybe that what makes life beautiful – to see the ugliness of a broken world but to know that God’s love can touch a heart and bring joy in the midst of it all. And to know that sometimes I get to be the one to deliver His message in the form of a hug or a kiss or a ride in the back of a little blue convertible.

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Learning to Share

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Today we were invited to help Veronica and some of the Manos de Amor children with a task they do 3 times a week. We have told Veronica to assign us tasks that will make her life easier and this is one she has chosen for us. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday she takes a few children in the late afternoon and heads to Vallarta Adventures, a tour and excursion company that takes tourists out on crazy adventures. Every day, Vallarta Adventures piles people on boats or in open jeeps and take them snorkeling, sailing, whale watching, scuba diving, zip lining, touring tequila factories, hiking, horseback riding, and pretty much anything a tourist is willing to pay to experience. They are really a top-quality company – and today I found out they are also a generous company.

Most of the tours they offer provide lunch, which means lots of leftovers – and Manos de Amor is fortunate to be one of the beneficiaries of the excess food that returns to the Vallarta Adventures office in Nuevo Vallarta each afternoon.

Today was our training day. Veronica showed us how to fill plastic tubs and plastic bags with chicken, rice, turkey, salad, vegetables, buns and soup. It looked delicious and I would be lying if I said we packed it away without sampling a bite or two. The children worked hard, filling bags and carrying empty trays to the kitchen. But what was most impressive to me was the final destination of all of this food. Much of it of course was for the children at Casa Hogar. Veronica packed up enough food for them for tomorrow’s meals. Then she packed up many more bags to give to the women who work at the home and to the many poor neighbors who live in the streets surrounding the orphanage. She encouraged me to fill two large bags to deliver to our family in San Vicente. In the midst of receiving a blessing, she became a blessing.

I love that instead of filling the freezer and hoarding supplies, Veronica is teaching the children to share what they have with others who need help. To share. I know that we are super fortunate to have social programs in Canada that seek to care for the marginalized in our country. And let’s face it, it makes me feel less responsible or compelled to help when I know our government will provide. But that’s pretty much a crappy attitude. What if we all just shared our excess with others? Sometimes I go to Safeway and buy 3 or 4 tubs of Peanut Butter or 72 rolls of paper towel or a case of soup because hey, look at all the Air Miles! And then I stock my pantry and it sits there until I spill enough stuff to need 72 rolls of paper towel or make enough toast to eat 8 litres of peanut butter. I don’t even really like soup.  What would happen in our world if we kept enough for tomorrow, or even for next week and gave the rest away? What if we were to share what we don’t need with those who don’t know how to face an empty tomorrow? Instead of implementing more government social programs to fight poverty, what if we, who have so darn much, just gave away our stuff?  What if finally just learned how to share? Another day of being humbled by Mexico and learning a new way to live.

 

Hashtag Where’s Jose?

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It’s hard to believe we’ve only been back here in Bucerias for 4 days –  our feet have been moving since the airplane wheels hit the tarmac!  Friday was our re-entry day….. get the rental car, start unpacking the zillion suitcases, fill the fridge, meet the new baby that had been born to our neighbors in our absence, and go to two different taco restaurants to get things started.  Friday night was the start of the sleep adjustment period – which means NO SLEEP due to the heat and the animals.

Saturday was a friend day.  We met Chris and Darren in Old Town PV for lunch and then headed to the airport to pick up our first houseguest Klara.  She may have thought she was coming to rest, but within a couple of hours of her arrival, we were all busy at work at the fundraiser for the orphanage Manos de Amor.  The children’s home depends completely on donations and fundraising, so this event Rhythm and Ribs is absolutely vital to its existence.  It was an amazing event to see – hundreds of people arrived to listen to the fantastic band Luna Rumba, buy silent auction and raffle items and eat ribs.  And I mean eat a LOT of ribs.  My job was to collect tickets at the Rib stand (Klara was working at the taco stand!).  Hundreds of people lined up to exchange 5 tickets (50 pesos = $4 Canadian = $2.75 American) for a small plate of delicious ribs.  Now let me just say one thing …..  if you go to a fundraiser for orphans, do not yell at the ticket taker because you think you should get all-you-can-eat ribs for $2.75.  Seriously – that’s dumb.

 

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Collecting tickets for Ribs

Karen collecting tickets for Ribs

 

IMG_20160221_125025 IMG_20160221_125328Sunday we went to church and then over to the market at the marina in La Cruz to get our giant shrimp and some veggies and pasta.  Sunday dinner was tortilla soup and guacamole and a beautiful beach sunset.

 

 

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The final task to feeling settled was a giant wash down of the house on Monday morning.  Because we had left windows open to keep the house from turning into a raging inferno, we had a month of dust on every imaginable surface.   And one really bad smell to track down.  Note to self:  do not put a package of frozen fish in the cupboard for a month….. frozen things should be in a freezer at all times.

Monday evening, after a relaxing day at the beach, Klara started preparing our shrimp and pasta feast while I was determined to get back in a proper workout routine.  So I threw down a yoga mat and put on a pilates tape and got to work.  About halfway through, Klara told me I had guests out at the gate.  Being as I was just heading into the Plank series, I was more than happy for the interruption.  Standing on the sidewalk were Isabel and Laurentino and two of their friends.  Normally these children, who live at Manos de Amor, go home to their tiny tarp house in San Vicente for the weekend.  Because their mom really can’t care for them, they get on a bus on Monday, along with their 5-year-old brother Jose, and head back to the orphanage for the week.  Sometimes they get off the bus close to our house and stop in for a visit, so I wasn’t totally surprised to see them.  But when I asked what they were doing they said they were looking for Jose.  (Thus the title of this blog #wheresjose?)  And could they have a glass of water.  Seems they had gone to the home of their friend before going to the orphanage, and Jose had disappeared.   Two hours ago!  HE’S FIVE!  So we panicked a bit.  Grant panicked a lot.  I suggested we get in our car and start driving up and down all the streets.  Grant yelled at me to call the police.  I looked at him incredulously – I don’t have a clue how to call the police!!!!  GRANT:  “Five year olds shouldn’t be lost for 2 hours!”  ME:  “no really, I don’t know how to call the police” (so now I know something else I need to learn).  So we started driving around and hollering “JOSE” out the window on every block.  At one point, Isabel told me she had forgotten her money at her friend’s house so we went back there – and as we pulled up the gate opened and out came Jose.  I jumped out of the car and scooped him up and softly said “Jose, where have you been?”.  “Sleeping” he whispered.  “Where were you sleeping?”  “En una cama” (In a bed).  So while we were searching for him everywhere, panicking that maybe he had crossed the highway, he had found a bed and was busy doing whatever it is that 5-year-old boys do in IMG_20160102_123859dreamland.  We drove them all back to the orphanage and went home for Klara’s delicious meal.  But my heart struggled to settle.  In Canada I often grumble about over-protective helicopter parents who won’t let their children out of their sight.  Here I love little ones whose parents can’t – or won’t – meet even their basic needs.  Here I drive up and down the streets wondering #where’sjose?  I am so grateful for organizations like Manos de Amor – and there are others – that provide a home for these lost children.  I am glad to know they feel safe to come find us when they need help.  And I am glad I spent 3 hours arguing with drunk gringos about the price of ribs so these children can have food and clothing and schooling and love.   Mostly I am just really glad to be home where I belong!

 

Not Better….Just Different

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Because we have not completely wrapped up the zillions of details of our move south, we are back in Canada for three weeks to finish taxes, finish construction, and finish packing.  There are a lot of ‘finishes’ before you can truly experience new beginnings.  Last year when I met with a Career Coach Warren, he told me my Kolbe Index indicated I love to brainstorm and start projects, but I get bored with the carry through.  I am strong in “Fast Start” and not so strong on “Follow Through”.  (Mind you he told me I should NEVER be an implementer, working with my hands and now I’ve laid tiles and sawed stuff with a power saw….).  The point is that I am pulling at the reins to get going, but I know that we need to finish well.  So we are back in the North doing Follow Through stuff that must be done.

It is impossible not to compare my two homes – and I don’t mean our physical houses (although there are some serious differences between my fancy new house with all the fancy new appliances and my simple Mexican home).  No, I am thinking about the differences between the world I have lived in for all of my life and this new place I am trying to be accepted in.  Maybe I am mostly thinking about the differences in me and in Grant and in the things that we now value.  Not better.  Just different.

So here is a preliminary comparison

The Obvious Stuff

  1. It is cold in Canada! There is great irony in that fact that my Canadian friends are rejoicing that this has been a mild winter (usually warmer than -15) and my Mexican friends are lamenting that it has been a very cold winter (in the mid to low +20’s).  The human experience is just very tied to weather and no matter where you live, every conversation begins with a tiny bit of complaining about the weather.
  2. The food is unbelievable in Mexico! We often ask ourselves IMG_20151231_195141what food we miss from Canada, and the list is pretty small.  A Tim Horton’s coffee.    Houston Pizza (the really thick meaty kind).  Spring rolls from Viet Thai Restaurant.  My zoodles since I couldn’t pack the spiralizer last time.  A pumpkin pie.  That’s about it.  When we are in Saskatchewan we constantly whine about the lack of proper tacos – or any Mexican food – in Regina.  Taco Time doesn’t cut it after eating Chilaquilies at Ponchos or Mole Enchiladas at Taco Itzel.   We are slowly raising our picante level and are making our own Green Sauce now which makes everything delicious.  Still can’t stand cilantro however which eliminates me from every being a true Mexican foodie.
  3. The noise level is hilarious in Mexico. I have told many stories about the joyful celebrations in our neighborhood in Bucerias.  First Christmas, then New Years, then the Patron Saint Festival, then some teen girls Quince, then some random dude’s birthday, then the 9 hour Karaoke party, then……  You get the picture.  At the end of our 6-week relocation trip we were just beginning to ignore it all and sleep at night.  Then we got to our house in Lumsden – a new ICF home (Styrofoam and cement) – super insulated and unnaturally silent.  No traffic in the valley after 9.  No music in the streets.  Total silence.  And then we couldn’t sleep there.  We laid awake the first night home, unable to sleep because of the eerie quiet.  It was beautifully peaceful, with the moon sparkling on the house rooftops – the complete opposite of the loud joyfulness that surrounds our Mexican home.  Not better….. just different.
  4. $$$$$$$. Much of Mexico is poor.  I know that there are many poor people in Regina as well.  There is addiction, child abandonment, child prostitution, poverty, illness…. It’s in every city in every country.  But in Canada we have social networks of government that at least make an effort to close the gaps.  We have medical care and education for everyone who will show up.  There are welfare programs and food banks and intervention programs to try and save the children who are lost in family dysfunction.  In Mexico, the money that should flow to those who are struggling is blocked by crazy systems and non-existent programs.  Children are not mandated to go to school – and in fact there are crazy bureaucratic barriers that make it difficult or even impossible.  Children must show a birth certificate before they can register for school.  Only a mother can get this birth certificate.  Many did not get one at birth and now cannot afford the $200 it will cost.  Or children who have been abandoned by a mother have no way to get this piece of paper.  And so they cannot go to school.  Those who need it most cannot access education.  Wages are unbelievable low.  Minimum wage has just been raised to $73 pesos (that’s about $6), not for an hour but for A DAY!  $6 a day to raise a family.  How can a family or a community prosper in this environment?     It has been inspiring to watch both the Mexican community and the many Gringo associations step up to care for the people who have needs and I am super excited to be part of organizations such as La Fuente Riviera Church and Manos de Amor who care for the poor, and especially the children in Bucerias and many surrounding towns and villages.
August, 2015

August, 2015

The Not So Obvious Stuff

  1. We move a LOT slower in Mexico. Those of you who know Grant and I in Canada will not recognize us in Mexico.  We are slow …. Bordering on lazy. IMG_20160112_183407 I suspect this is somewhat temporary.  We arrived in Bucerias in mid-December really tired (especially house-builder guy Grant) and we have taken some time to rest and vacation.  We sit on our balcony or in our garden and read and play Candy Crush and talk and maybe even nap.  While I expect that to change, I am pretty committed to guarding our time here.  We are definitely planning to be involved in the orphanage and the church, but we are not going to organize every minute – we are going to leave time to just play with the children and to open our home for fun stuff with our new friends.  Grant is ready to start building our dream home and I am continuing to do my job from a distance so that will be enough structure for us.  The rest of the time will be for beach picnics and boogie boarding and watching hummingbirds in the garden.  I welcome you keeping my accountable for this plan!
  2. My heart is very soft. I am now a crybaby.  I cry at everything.  I cry because the hibiscus bloomed.  I cry because Lupita is too cute today.  I cry because every child should have their own dad, not just an old white guy from Canada who throws them around.  I cry because I knew I shouldn’t have tried the ‘mas picante’ sauce.  I cry at the airport and bus station because the kids are here.  I really cry at the airport and the bus station because the kids are leaving.  I think mainly I cry because I now have time to feel stuff instead of just rushing to do stuff.
  3. Home is wherever you are today. When I am in Mexico I refer to Lumsden as home, when I am in Lumsden I refer to Mexico as home.  Today, I am trying to embrace the snowy day, the beautiful new home I am in, the friends I have missed, the family I will soon spend time with and I will make sure I get a Tim Horton’s coffee and a springroll and some pumpkin pie. I will try to figure out how to import butter into Mexico.  In a couple of weeks, I will pack 6 more giant suitcases with the stuff I haven’t been able to buy in Mexico, like my zoodle spiralizer, and I will head to my new home.  I will try to embrace the crazy noise and the humid days and I will build a new life.   And I will be home.  Not better….. just different.
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Our simple Mexican kitchen

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Our fancy Canadian Kitchen


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Our Mexican yard

Our Canadian yard

Our Canadian yard

 

What Makes a Home?

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I’ve told you about setting up our house – buying kitchen utensils and towels and creating a garden.  But when does a house actually turn into a home?  Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe it has nothing to do with towels after all.  I have decided that a house becomes a home when people know they can find you there.  When friends knock on your door and join you for a laugh or a snack.

If that is true, then yesterday our house became our home.  I guess it already was since our children had spent lots of time eating and laughing here.  But yesterday I was thrilled to receive surprise guests.  We were in the kitchen doing some tidying up, when I heard a little voice calling my name. “Karen.  Kaaaaren….”   Grant and I looked at each other, not quite sure what we were hearing.  We looked out our kitchen window – which looks through the garage and out to the grate dividing the sidewalk from our home.  There peering through the gate and calling my name was little Jose, with Isabel and Laurentino beside him.  Apparently they had been given a ride to somewhere nearby and were walking back to the orphanage.  Remembering where we live, they had stopped in for a visit.

I was super pleased and ran out to give some hugs and invite them in.  First stop….. fruit bowl in the kitchen.   Second stop….. Wii game console.  We went for a walk, played some games, bought some caramel popcorn and then the kids announced they had to go.   Grant drove them home – and I felt like a real Abuela (a Mexican grandma).

It was only a few minutes later that our invited guests arrived for our first dinner party.  Gregory and Martita and their sweet children joined us for a Mexican feast.  I made the guacamole – the enchiladas and burritos and sopes were brought in from the neighborhood restaurant.  Soon I’ll be making it all myself …. maybe……  Again we ate and laughed and raced Mario around the track.  We laughed at them for wearing sweaters and complaining it was cold (only 75 degrees!) and they laughed at us for using a dish cloth instead of a sponge to wash dishes.  Our cultures and languages collided and melded and became a new kind of friendship – one where we know we are different but we choose to be united anyway.

That is what I think home is.  People coming together to enjoy one another in a place where they feel safe and comfortable and loved, whether they have been invited or just happen to be wandering by.  Yesterday we were lucky to have both – and now I know this house can be our home.

PS  Today we had a surprise guest too – a hummingbird joined us for breakfast in our garden.  How cool is that?

Ready for Liftoff

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KitchenWe did it – we survived the last few weeks and we’re sitting at the airport waiting for our flight to be called.  It’s been a crazy ride. Our main task was to get the house we’re building done – it’s our financial plan for this new life.  It came down to the wire – we stopped working at 2:30 yesterday, appraiser came at 3:00.  House is officially done.  Except for all the little things that aren’t.  But enough that we can breathe and head out.  It wasn’t easy.  Last week saw flat tires, computer erased reports, scratched hardwood that had just been laid and had to be relaid (3 times), big challenges at work, large bank deposit that ended up in the wrong account, and little sleep.  We were so intent on getting it done that I actually used power tools…. twice…..

So we’re at the airport ready to go.  Meigan is at the airport in Vancouver and Brett is on a bus from Guadalajara.  By tonight the Swansons will be a family in our new home.  A great start to a new life.  As always Grant and I see it differently.  I say we’re moving today.  He says we’re “starting a transition”.  He won’t see this as a move until his tools are with him.  I guess we all have our attachments that define home.  As long as I’m on a beach by tomorrow he can call it anything he wants.  We will return to Canada sometime in January to finish up final house details, get taxes done, file year end business reports, etc.  So maybe transitioning isn’t so far off.

TimsThe very final steps of this move were obvious – have some comfort Canadian food.  So last night we met the Williams family for a quick supper of poutine.  This morning a final Tim’s coffee.  Now all is ready.  And I know the suspense is killing you….. yes the pig made it!  It seems kinda ridiculous but I just think we’ll need a friendly familiar face smiling at us while we sit in the garden.

Pig

A pig and some more hats

Merry Christmas friends!  If I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, we will be back in January and will do another round of goodbyes.  My word for 2015 was JOY and although it has been a year of many ups and downs – as life always is – focusing on finding joy in the journey has truly made me grateful for every single moment.  Can’t wait to see what 2016 holds for all of us.  For me, it starts with guacamole.