A Quick Update

In 2010, we moved back to the small town in Colorado that I never stopped missing while we lived in Mexico. Now I sometimes miss Mexico, but I wouldn't travel as freely as we did when we were there, camping out in remote areas and so forth.

Mexico today is in a period of change, and in many ways it is more dangerous now. That said, I have plenty of American friends who still live there very happily, just taking a few more precautions than they did in the past.

Just to say!

Rosana

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May 9, 2006 — Yesterday Kelly and I went out in the afternoon, in our little Toyota motorhome, Cando, which is our only vehicle here. We drove across San Juan Cosala to Ruben’s restaurant, right next door to the big hot spring the town is famous for. I had been to Ruben’s last week for a women’s meeting, and at that time Ruben had invited us all to his big 60th birthday party. So that’s what Kelly and I went for. We took the motorhome rather than walking or taking the bus because we did some shopping too — getting a couple of floating pool toys from a stand in the street by the hot spring and getting some groceries. We are thinking about what kind of car to get, but we may want to get it in the US later this summer, we’ll see.

The party at Ruben’s was in full swing when we got there. A mariachi band in elegant light blue clothing was playing. There was food and drink. People were mostly sitting at tables, listening to the music and chatting. I waved at several of the women I had met last week, enjoying the feeling of knowing some people! We joined some of the women I’d met at one of the tables.

Ruben was everywhere, the gracious host. I don’t know his whole story, but he was born in nearby Jocotepec, he became an American citizen with excellent English somewhere along those 60 years, and now he runs this restaurant and is a bridge between the two cultures. The party reflected this, as there were both Mexicans and foreigners present, at least 150 people, I’d guess. Someone pointed out the mayor of Jocotepec to me.

So that’s one Mexican man.

The other? On our way home, we drove up a narrow street, with just enough room to drive between the curb on one side and the vehicles parked on the other. That was fine until we reached a point where a gray-haired man in dirty clothes was lying on the sidewalk, with his feet in the gutter. I got out and asked some kids if someone could help the guy move out of the street. The boys tried but he kicked at them drunkenly. I went over and spoke to him but I doubt he could understand my accent and I certainly couldn’t understand what he said, though I got the general drift and it wasn’t printable.

Backing up wasn’t an option as we had just barely gotten by a wide truck just before this.

A man appeared at the corner ahead and he began motioning to Kelly to drive forward past the drunk and his feet. Inch by inch, Kelly moved forward, just clearing the feet, which at least weren’t moving much. I found it harrowing, but we got past okay.

Two lives.

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