Tag Archives: Moving to Mexico

Cinco de Mayo… Huh???

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It’s Cinco de Mayo – which means almost nothing here in Mexico unless you are living in the town of Puebla.  May 5th marks the Battle of Puebla but it is NOT Mexican Independence Day which many Canadians and Americans mistakenly think.   While you’ll be eating giant tacos and sipping giant tumblers of tequila while wearing giant sombreros – well that’s just another normal day here in my neighborhood.

We have, however, seen two other very Mexican cultural celebrations take place this week. The first was Children’s Day – Dia de Los Ninos – which always takes place on April 30th.  It’s a day where families and schools celebrate and honor children with parties and pinatas and candy and everything else KID.  We attended the Children’s Day Party held at Manos de Amor which was led by the students of one of the local universities.  It was a blast and we walked away covered in face paint, hotdog condiments and sticky candy remnants.

 

Manos de Amor Fiesta!

Almost 300 children attended the party at my local church

May 3rd is known as Day of the Holy Cross and it is a tradition that was brought to Mexico by Spanish missionaries centuries ago.  Mexican construction workers have taken this celebration as their own, and as we drove around our neighborhood we saw that every construction site – no matter how big or how small – had a cross erected, decorated with colorful flowers and paper streamers.    At the end of the day we saw crews of workers enjoying some food and ‘adult beverages’ together on the worksite in the shadow of the cross.   An expression of gratitude and a request for blessing and protection.

Mexicans love to party.  They love to eat and drink and dance.  Everywhere you look you see the rich symbols of Mexico’s culture displayed and celebrated.  The recent movie “Coco” is a great depiction of just how deep and passionate Mexican traditions run.  They love to honor one another – everyone has a day and a party and I can’t wait until it’s my turn on May 10th when we celebrate Dia de la Madre – Mother’s Day!  In the meantime, enjoy your Cinco de Mayo burrito – I lift a toast to you and VIVA MEXICO!

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Gloria Builds a House!

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I’d like you to meet my friend Gloria and her husband Adrian.  In fact, I’d like to invite you to join me for a Fish Feast at their new home!  I know Gloria won’t mind if you come with me – she’s proud of her new home and loves to cook and entertain.

 

I met Gloria at Manos de Amor.  She works part time in the kitchen and helps clean the home.   She speaks no English, but we are friends and I have been cheering her on for the last year as she and Adrian build their dream home down the river on the outskirts of town.

Life has not been easy for Gloria.  Just over a year ago she lost her oldest son in a car accident and she has never fully recovered.  What mom could?  Her oldest daughter has a learning disability.  But Gloria is strong and resourceful and over the past few years she has been paying tiny sums of money each month to buy a piece of land.  Her dream was to own her own home, so she would not have to pay rent.  On her small salary, the rent was killing her, and she was determined to create a better life for her family.

Finally, the day came when Gloria announced to us she had paid off the land and she was ready to start building.  And by ‘ready to start building’ I don’t mean calling a general contractor, and an architect and an engineer and an interior designer and a bunch of crews for different trades.  I mean she was literally ready to start building.  She and Adrian took a saw and some machetes and headed into the bush near their land.  They cut down trees to form the posts that would hold the structure.  Over the next few months they accumulated some cement blocks and a friend donated money for a roof.  They created two bedrooms and a tiny kitchen area for storage of food and dishes.  The cooking and eating will be done outside.  In fact, as in most Mexican homes, most of the living is done outside with family telling stories gathered around a fire.  Adrian dug a hole that will be their underground pit oven for cooking birria.  Birria is a spicy Mexican stew usually made from goat, a favorite dish from the state of Jalisco which is just a few miles from Bucerias.  The rocks in the bottom of the pit will be heated and a clay pot full of meat and chilies and other spices and covered with maguey leaves will be roasted for many hours.  Gloria also planted a garden to keep her family supplied with the important Mexican salsa ingredients – tomatoes, avocados, chilies, onions and cilantro.  To ensure her late son was not left behind as they moved into this new chapter, Gloria hung pictures of him in every room – there is no doubt he is still a big part of her family and even in her new joy, she continues to mourn.

Yesterday Gloria invited us to her home for a feast of grilled fish, homemade spicy sauces, beans and of course corn tortillas.  The entire fish was brushed with a spicy sauce made of garlic and chilies and flattened on the grill.  It was delicious and there was something comforting and liberating about pulling the white meat off the fish bones and licking the spicy sauce off our fingers.  Some of my friends popped the cooked eyeballs into their mouths – I drew the line there!

Grant and I tried to keep up with the Spanish conversation but mainly we just enjoyed sitting back and celebrating success with this family – including their 2 dogs, some cats and 2 baby parrots.  They still have work to do.  They don’t have lights yet.  Eventually they’ll have windows.   But this is their forever family home, built with their own hands and dreams and love and we say SALUD GLORIA AND ADRIAN!

 

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So the World May Hear

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When you move to a new place – especially a new place like this! – you are constantly stumbling into new experiences, new places, new people.  This month we took part in a project that was outside of our normal areas of involvement with people we had never met before.  And it was very cool!

As we have been helping to raise funds for our little deaf friend Gael, we have been searching out contacts within the hearing loss community – doctors, therapists, and other service groups who just might be able to help us.  We have been learning and stretching into a whole new world that we really didn’t even know existed.  Which led us to meet Enrique and the Lions Club of Puerto Vallarta.  They were holding a Hearing Aid 30777117_10155413869121198_2007058191_nbenefit in conjunction with the Starkey Hearing Foundation, a charity that was created by Starkey Hearing Technologies and its founder William Austin.   Austin is a leader in the Hearing Aid industry who has worked with a number of US Presidents and other celebrities.  He now spends his time giving the gift of hearing to those in need.  This amazing group has donated hearing aids to people in over 100 countries and its goal is to provide 1 million aids in this decade.   This month they were in Mexico and we saw that they needed volunteers for their outreach in Puerto Vallarta.  Wanting to know more about this whole area and to meet some people who might have advice for us and for Gael, we offered to help.  We literally had no idea what we were volunteering for, but we showed up at 6:30 a.m. as requested, ready to lend a hand.

30429685_10155413870136198_1784692417_nAs we predicted, we were the only volunteers to show up at 6:30.  We noticed many Mexicans already lined up at the front door of the convention center, but when our new friend Enrique motioned us to follow him to the volunteer area, we saw we were the only ones there.    2 or 3 more arrived around 7:30, the majority after 8:00.   Why am I still surprised and why am I still showing up on time for things?  At about 7:40 Enrique’s wife came to us and said, “I am so sorry you are on time”.  You and me sister.

But finally, at around 8:30, a bus load of people wearing red T-shirts with the Starkey Foundation logo arrived and the front doors were opened to allow the long line of waiting people in.  My job was to work with the hearing specialist at the first point of contact.  As people filed in, the red shirted lady looked in each of their ears and indicated to me whether their ears were clean or not.  I had to take their application form, check a SI or NO as to clean ears and sign the paper before directing them to take their form and their little white card to the next station where their forms would be inspected.  Grant then led them to their next station – the ear washing place or the hearing aid fitting place.

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Over the next 4 hours, I marked and signed forms for 400 Mexican people.  800 ears inspected.  The youngest was 5.  The oldest was 103.  All poor.  All needing help to hear.  All excited to be receiving free hearing aids that day.  They came from around the states of Nayarit and Jalisco – from Tepic down to Manzanilla.  Some came on buses.  Some had other disabilities.  It was amazing and beautiful and I was so pleased we had showed up to see this miracle.

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As we were about to leave, Enrique’s wife came to us and said, “I would like you to meet Mr. Austin – he is a very important man.”  Now at this point, we had no idea who he was.  We knew nothing about his company, about his work with Presidents, about his billion-dollar net worth, about his philanthropy around the world.  We only knew he was offering free hearing aids to 400 Mexicans and we were happy to meet him and tell him about our small project with Gael.    His response was not what we expected.  He told us that perhaps he could help Gael with a hearing aid.  He said that he had the best hearing aids in the world and just maybe he could help.  Just maybe Gael could hear if we brought him to meet him that day.   Well you can imagine that we didn’t need to hear more.  We phoned our friend Francisco and asked him to track down Gael – we’re coming to get him and bring him here.  Just maybe…..

It took around an hour to drive back to Bucerias, pack up Gael and drive back to Puerto Vallarta.  The crowd was still large when we returned but Mr. Austin dropped everything to look at Gael.  He tried several different aids and Gael sat quietly, curious as he watched all the people in chairs around him putting these strange devices in their ears.  He seemed to understand what was happening and was very cooperative.  After 30 minutes or so, Mr. Austin said what we had already believed.   Hearing Aids will not help Gael.  He just doesn’t have enough hearing in either ear to create discernible sound.  I admit I shed a tear or two.  Even though we were receiving confirmation of what we had already learned, a tiny bit of hope had landed on my heart that afternoon.  Perhaps this was the miracle we were hoping for.  Instead we were encouraged to stay on the path we were already on.  To find a way for this little guy to have the Cochlear Implant surgery.  To help him learn sign language so he can begin to communicate while going through the whole process of surgery and speech therapy.

 

But then, as we turned away and prepared to leave, the miracle arrived after all.  It just looked different than I was expecting.  As we turned around, a young woman and an older woman were standing behind us.  They had been quietly listening.  And waiting.  I saw the name tag on the younger woman.  It said, “Sign Language”.  The older woman introduced us to Isabel and told us that she is a sign language teacher.  She lives in San Vicente and is willing to do private lessons.   Would you like her help?

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Well yes. Yes we would.  And just like that another piece had fallen into place.  Isabel now comes to Manos de Amor 3 days a week to teach Gael, his mom, and one of the Manos caregivers how to sign.  We have wanted this for a while but had no clue how to find someone who would come to us.  Had we not taken Gael to see Mr. Austin, we never would have found Isabel.

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As always, things happened exactly as they were meant to.  For Gael and for 400 other Mexicans who now have the Gift of Hearing!  Thank you to William Austin and the Starkey Hearing Foundation.

https://www.starkeyhearingfoundation.org/

 

 

Should I help? How? How much?

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My husband Grant has written some great thoughts about how to help people when you live in a place that can overwhelm you with need – a place like Mexico, a place like our neighborhood.   I think he nailed it!  What do you think?

Sick of being asked for a handout every day? I wrestle constantly when I encounter people with needs looking for a handout—whether it is the guy with no legs on a hand peddle cart, or the woman with deformed legs being pushed in a wheel chair, or the woman and child begging on the bridge, or the guy yelling “hey mister how about today?” or “Can you loan me some money?” I constantly ask myself….”how much today? How much tomorrow? The change in my pocket?” “Do these people make more that the average person working at an average job in Mexico?”

Then there all the charities and the organizations—the ones for animals, for children, for seniors, for the handicapped, for orphans, for schools/kindergartens, for Christmas, for nature, for wildlife.….

And of course the special circumstances—”need money to go to my mother’s funeral, to have an operation, to buy a uniform for school, a dress for kindergarten graduation”, ……

When there are no social safety nets these questions will never go away. So I have narrowed it down to a few questions/thoughts for myself:

  • Will supporting this change a life profoundly? Or will the need always be there, never corrected? A medical operation that will allow someone to see, or to hear that now cannot—that is life changing. A surgery to rebuild the body so that it can work again is correcting a bad situation that will not repeat itself.
  • How responsible does this person need to be to correct this situation? Or are they a victim of things beyond their control? Giving to the wino or drug addict probably will assist them in not hitting bottom and being forced to change their life and get help. Giving to the orphanage that cares for abused and abandoned kids, who are in no way responsible for where they have found themselves may definitely help correct a bad situation. Giving to the kids forced by their parents to sell on the beach and streets so they do not have to work or because they want to buy alcohol – that is a mess—give the kids food and support an organization that gets kids off the street and into school.
  • If I help this person are they of a character to give back in the future to others or will what I give be wasted to no end, and will the need be perpetuated by lack of personal responsibility? Helping the mother that has repeatedly abandoned her kids leaving them hungry will not solve the problem. Reporting the problem to DIF (social services) may correct the problem. Supporting the relatives or organization that helps the kids also is very useful.
  • If I don’t give money, will this person find another way to meet the need? Don’t be the quick easy answer to someone else’s struggle. Maybe give them a small job so they don’t fall into begging…. or stealing….
  • Is there something here that will give me or others great personal satisfaction? Will seeing the child in the kindergarten dress (that looks like a wedding dress) give me happy memories and a feeling of satisfaction? Buy it. If not don’t.

So this is what I have decided:

  • Give the change in my pocket randomly to those who seem to be in a retracted long term need. ie. The guy with no legs, the crippled woman, etc.
  • Give what costs me little to the one that will probably squander it soon. ie. An old pair of beach shoes to the addict with no shoes. An old bed to the person who lost their’s from being kicked out of the last house for not paying rent…..
  • Save my larger amounts for those in legitimate emergencies or for those that will experience a profound life change. Profoundly changing a life gives me great satisfaction…that’s when its time to give.
  • Organizations that make profound change in the lives of those who do not deserve to be where they are get the long term support.

I would love to hear your thoughts as to how you deal with this yourself. Please comment and share….

Currently there is one life that I am working hard at helping change. He was born profoundly deaf to a young single mother and a system that has no means to help him. No fault of his own, and giving can make a profound difference. Without a cochlear implant this profoundly deaf child has no hope of a regular normal life. Put in an orphanage by his grandmother as he has become too hard to handle, and not even the resources to get to a school for the deaf. With an implant and a couple years of speech therapy this child becomes like any other with a hope for the future….and a much higher likelihood that he will then want to give back when he can. Please check his story—www.youcaring.com/gaelsgiftofhearing

Sunday is Market Day

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Sunday is one of my favorite days.  Many Mexican people work 6 days a week, and since Sunday is their only day off, it is a real family day.  A day for errands and fun and rest and food and shopping.  We have decided it will be the same for us.  Turn off the computers and get out into the community.  If we have children staying with us, they are dragged along, and we feel like a real local family.  We always start with church – a lively bilingual experience with young Mexican families and old grey-haired gringos.

The afternoon is for the pool or the beach, but first is the market – the tianguis as it is called here.  This area of Banderas Bay is interesting because it is a real mix of developed Mexico (Walmart and Home Depot and Costco) and undeveloped Mexico (dirt roads and horses and chickens).   We live in a very Mexican neighborhood and have chosen to do most of our shopping at the local shops and stands – the fruit store and the fish store and the many taco stands and street restaurants.  And on Sunday it’s the tianguis in the dry river bed.  Blocks and blocks of tables set up to sell produce and clothes and toys and tools and electronics and miscellaneous junk.  New stuff and used stuff.  This is where we go to buy our fruit and vegetables each week – giant bags of bananas and pineapples and avocados and even eggs that add up to $10 or $15.  Enough for the entire week.

I thought you might like to see some of the sights we see each week and to watch the video of us driving through the neighborhood on our way home from the market in our little blue golf cart.   It’s long – 5 minutes – and it’s bumpy, but it shows exactly where … and how… we live.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now, jump in the golf cart with us….

 

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This is certainly not the life I expected to live here – but it’s the life we love!   Thanks for joining us on the ride.

It’s Raining Coconuts

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Our poor little Azulita has had a lot of issues from the potholes and speed bumps and curbs in our neighborhood – and today from the skies.

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Many stories.  Funny, irritating stories.  First the keys lost in the ocean which led to a tow truck to the dealership which led to the smashed windshield which led to many weeks of Mananas.

     A Crappy Week of Mananas

     The Car Adventure Continues….

There was the especially giant speed bump hidden in the shadows in San Vicente one night which led to the broken radiator which led to the broken air conditioner which led to many more weeks of Mananas.

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A few weeks ago there was the curb that jumped out of nowhere which broke the radiator again and the air conditioner lines again which led to the welder guy which led to the backwards welding which led back to the welder guy which eventually fixed the problem.

 

20180119_104729And then today.  We were driving home from the Immigration office celebrating the issuance of our new green residence cards.  Heading to a celebration breakfast date. On the beautiful and smooth tree lined streets of Nuevo Vallarta.  What could possibly go wrong here?  And then the sky was falling Chicken Little.  As Grant slowed for a speedbump, a coconut fell out of a tree, smashing our headlight and bouncing down the road spraying its refreshing water along the way.   Sigh.  Here we go again.  On the up side, our windshield wasn’t smashed, our convertible roof was up, Azulita’s body wasn’t dented.  Just a headlight.  And probably many weeks of Mananas!  The adventure continues.

Just in Time…

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We’re officially Mexicans for 3 more years – the last step on the road towards becoming Permanent residents. It has been a surprisingly easy process, although not without typical Mexican bumps – the most annoying being the Bureaucratic Lineup from Hell. This last process meant 6 trips to the Immigration office to present application forms, bank receipts and fingerprints. The Christmas break created an expected slowdown but last week the awaited message showed up online saying everything had been registered and we could come to the office to be fingerprinted – the final stage before issuance of the card. It did seem silly since we had been fingerprinted in the same office 1 year ago, and 1 million copies had been made then. But I have learned to follow Mexican bureaucracy without question and I was not going to start ‘whying’ at this stage.

Normally we would not be particularly concerned about the timeline. Mañana would be just fine. But I must leave for Canada on Tuesday to attend meetings and I can’t leave without my renewed card in hand. Time matters this time so when we got word that our application was ready for fingerprints we headed to the Immigration Office in Nuevo Vallarta. The office opens at 9:00 and we arrived by 9:30 only to find we were already 42nd in line. Seriously. 41 grey haired gringo couples ahead of us. All clutching a dog eared file folder full of papers to be sorted, shuffled and stapled.

We had no choice – I was running out of days. We bought a cup of coffee from the nearby coffee shop and settled in for the wait. Which turned out to be 4 hours long. The clock read 1:30. 4 long hours. Waiting to be told that the application was not ready. WHAT? My online profile told me to come, it would be ready. No senora…. maybe tomorrow. Well of course it wasn’t ready.

We returned the next day – at 8:15 – to take the 10th place in line. By 9:30 we had been fingerprinted and today we returned to pick up our coveted card. With one day to spare. Tuesday I fly out as a Mexican resident, a green card with an unsmiling photo to prove it. All is again well.

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For the next 3 years we will be considered Temporary Residents and then we will automatically become Permanent Residents. And by automatically I mean 6 appointments, long lines, more papers and fingerprints and payments. But we are approved, accepted, welcomed, official. Just in Time!

An Uncertain Christmas

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Generally, I like change.  I like when surprises sneak up on me.  I like when things are new, unexpected, adventurous, unknown.  You can’t move to Mexico and expect things to look even remotely familiar.  But Christmas is different.  Christmas is about tradition, about recreating memories, about things staying the same.  And for that – well this Christmas I was just a bit sad.  This is the first Christmas that we have not been with our own daughters.  Flights were too expensive; job vacations were too short.  This year it didn’t make sense.  Still, reason and common sense gave way to se24899711_10155086227796198_3210385353696014323_nlf-pity.  After all, this was the year I thought we would finally build a proper family Christmas.  Among our 3 loads of belonging, we had moved our big old Christmas tree, our stockings, our ornaments.  Snowmen and stockings and candles and the tiny Nativity scene.   My roasting pan and that old gravy bowl.  My tablecloths and napkins and those cute little snowball place card holders.  Everything I needed to finally make a family Christmas dinner in this new home.  Familiar.  Safe.  Traditional.

So when we agreed to postpone our family time until spring this year, I admit I was disappointed.   I briefly… really briefly…. considered flying north to them but I knew that was not right either.  We were needed here and as December unfolded, I began to see the plan emerge exactly as it was meant to.   Since the last weekend of October, we have enjoyed opening our guest rooms to three little girls who need a home and as Christmas approached, I realized our tree and our decorations and even our stockings still had work to do.

Of course, as often happens here, the road became bumpier and more uncertain the closer we got to Christmas weekend.   It looked like we would have the girls for the weekend.  We shopped –  for toys and groceries and surprises.  We hung our own daughters’ stockings in preparation for Santa’s arrival.  Nope.  They’re going with mom.   Tears from everyone.  Nope.  Mom changed her mind – please come get them.  More tears.  More pain.  So much pain.  But finally, it was Christmas morning and I looked around our breakfast table and rejoiced that our chairs were full and our table was overflowing with Christmas treats and Christmas love.  Unlike my own daughters, these children hadn’t even considered looking under the tree or looking in the stockings.   I had however found a letter under the tree on Christmas Eve written by 10-year-old Marely.  “Santa, they say you’re not real but I still believe in you.  If you are real, please tell me the truth -Yes or No”.  Over breakfast, when Grant said, “I wonder if Santa came, she actually looked pretty angry.  “No.  There’s no Santa”.  “Well, let’s look”.  They ran to the stockings and I was elated with the pure joy on Marely’s face “He came, Santa came”.  I don’t know what she really believes, but for this year at least, she got to experience being a child with a stocking full of treats and gifts under a tree.

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Christmas Eve Candlelight Service

 

 

Christmas morning surprise!

That evening, we had a traditional Canadian Christmas meal in our tiny garden.  On Friday I thought there would be just 5 of us, but by Monday night our family had grown to 13.  Canadians, Americans, Mexicans of all ages.  Spanish and English jumbled together.  So different than our normal tradition.  So exactly the same.

 

As always, the happy stories are mushed together with the painful stories.  The joy of a Christmas weekend is paired with some truly difficult moments and I have new respect for all foster moms and adoptive moms who love children who come from difficult places.  The same little hands and arms that gave generous hugs of joy, left painful bruises and scratches when they realized mom wasn’t coming for them.  Gifts that were purchased with love were stolen and hidden away.  So much laughter mixed with so many tears.  But that is the whole point of the Christmas story.  A baby coming into a broken world.  Love wrapped in flesh.  A father to the fatherless and the orphans.  Peace that passes understanding.  Not the Christmas I expected but oh the Christmas I will cherish.   Joy to the World!

More Chasing After Illusive Papers

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This week we tackled the next step of our legal residency and while it was eventually successful, it was not without the expected challenges.  As our first year of Temporary Residency comes to an end, it is time to renew our residence status for 3 more years and renew our Temporary Import Permit (TIP) for our truck.   The good news is that there is lots of information online as to how to do both of those things.  The bad news is that absolutely none of it is accurate.  Rules change here often, and online advice has not kept up.  We decided to start by heading directly to the Immigration Office to get the correct papers and procedures.  The process is pretty simple, even though it will mean 5 trips to the office in Nuevo Vallarta:  One to get the correct papers and instructions;  two to deliver the papers and photos and many copies of everything and to get the form that must go to the bank;  three to take the financial paper to the bank and return with the receipt and again many copies;  four to get our fingerprints taken when the application has been approved and; five to pick up our new Residency card.   The clerks at the Immigration Office are friendly and helpful and although it is time consuming and really poorly organized, it is not difficult and hopefully we will get an email next week saying we are approved for 3 more years and can come to give our fingerprints (which we just did a year ago and …. uhhh… they haven’t changed).

The vehicle was a little trickier.  There were so many different opinions online as to how to renew its TIP.  We asked the Immigration officer and she said we needed to go to the Customs office (Aduana) in Puerto Vallarta – across from Costco, beside the wine store.  Okay that works – I need groceries, I need wine, we can make a day of it.   When we walked into the Aduana office I stood in shock – there were DOZENS of people waiting for an appointment – maybe HUNDREDS.   It was a huge building with SO MANY PEOPLE and none of them appeared to be speaking any English.  The first woman we talked to told us we would have to take the truck back to the border.  Ah no.  Another person please.  Finally the English-speaking supervisor appeared, gave me the form we needed and told us she couldn’t help us.  We needed to go to the Aduana office at the airport.  They could help.  Sigh.  Every post I had read online said the office at the airport was absolutely NOT the place to go.  But I was more than happy to get out of that madhouse –  the airport was the next stop.

When we got to the airport, we wandered around for a while looking for the Customs office.  We found the Immigration counter – but no Aduana office.  We approached the Information Desk and a Spanish clerk directed us to the office we were looking for.  “Go outside and turn left.  Go to the end of the building, go around the corner and walk until you find the only grey door.  Knock on the door until someone comes and then tell them you want the Aduana office.”  Okay – sounds easy.  Even in Spanish, I thought I understood.

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Imagine eyes staring through that slot!

We eventually found a grey door, but there was literally nothing on it indicating it was an Aduana office.  In fact, as I stared at the door, I notice a tiny slot in the door with two brown eyes staring at me.  After jumping out of my skin, I told the eyes that I was looking for the Aduana office.  “Uno momento”.  And the slot slid shut – was I at a government office or a rent-by-the-hour motel?  After waiting for 5 or 10 minutes, a Customs officer opened the door, and we explained what we wanted.  He took our papers and began looking through them.  And I mean ALL of our papers.  Papers in our file folder that had absolutely nothing to do with this process were inspected.  “Okay, let me get someone to help you.”  Big grey door slam.   After we waited in the tiniest triangle of shade for 15 or 20 minutes, another Customs Officer came to the door and we told her our story again. She looked over our papers and told us we needed 2 copies of these papers, 3 copies of those.  Again, the copies.  “There is a copier in the middle of the airport.”  Okay we will be back with our copies.  But the desk in the center of the airport said “No Copies.  Maybe at the nearby business mall.”    Which meant leaving the airport parking lot.  We had, of course, parked in the absolute last stall of the parking lot, and when we got to our car we realized we had forgotten to pay for our parking at the machine – INSIDE THE TERMINAL, at the furthest spot from where we were now standing.  We trekked back to the Arrivals area of the airport, paid to get out and drove a mile or two to the mall where we indeed found a copy store.  After getting our copies, we headed back to the grey door.  We knocked on the door, spoke to the eyes, waited 10 or 15 more minutes in the blazing sun and eventually another Customs Officer – now our 3rd – came to the door, inspected the papers, shuffled the copies around and told us to wait a few minutes.  It was now 2:00 – we had left home at 9:00 – and we were hot, thirsty and hungry.   But in another 10 or 15 minutes the grey door pushed open and the Officer handed us our papers – with the needed stamp.   Our truck is in – again.  For 3 more years.   And I am considering taking donations, so Customs at the Airport can have a sign, maybe even a desk and a chair, to help weary travelers who don’t want to stand outside in the parking lot while papers are being shuffled.

3 times waiting – at least – and we’re all fighting for that one triangle of shade

As we have worked through all the steps to live in this country, I have been frustrated but I am also super excited.  No one would ever go through all of this craziness unless they knew they were meant to be here, unless they were already rooted in the soil and breathing the air.  We have been grumpy, we have been angry, we have laughed, we have cried – but we have never doubted.  And that makes me happy.