Stop That Cough

Anyone seen My Big Fat Greek Wedding? My husband loves this movie, because "They're just like my family!" There's one important difference, however. My in-laws know that Windex isn't actually a cure all. That's ridiculous. Anyone with a brain can tell you Windex is only good for cleaning glass and killing ants. No, no. The real cure-all, of course, is Vick's VapoRub (be sure to pronounce that as in Spanish).

Yes, VapoRub is good for whatever ails you. Rub it on your chest, back, and feet at the first sign of a cold. They say it stops bug bites from itching. They say you can rub it on your abdomen to stop a stomach ache. They say you can melt a spoonful and drink it as healthful tea. And (get ready) to stop a cough, just dab a little on your anus.

I'll give you a moment to think about that.





I should be clear that I have never tried this remedy, nor do I plan to, so I make no claims about its efficacy. However, I'm all for passing along tips to my friends. Some of you might be suffering from a cough even now, so consider this information a holiday treat from me to you. Enjoy.

Mexico's Worst Mother

I'm daily reminded what a terrible mother I am. Here are ten reasons this is so.

I never dress my baby warmly enough. This freezing Mexican climate calls for hats and coats at all times.

I sometimes bathe him even when he's sick.

He's already six months old and not yet eating tortillas.

I nurse him, which is unhealthy for him and also very tacky of me.

I don't dress him in shoes.

I haven't bought him a walker thingy to play in.

I carry him too much and now he's used to it.

Sometimes I dress him in too many stripes, or, worse, in pink!

I let him suck on his fingers.

I haven't baptized him.

Oh, and here's number eleven - I take him to places where the goblins are without proper protection! For example, I took him up to the mountains yesterday, and that's prime goblin habitat.

I'm basically Mexico's worst mother.

Hiking

Happy Solstice, y'all.

Yesterday we went for a hike in the mountains above San Juan. It was great. Turns out San Juan is way prettier from a distance. Even from the Racket Club, the gated community on the hill, San Juan looks a lot nicer, and the lake prettier too. From the very top of the mountain, it's stunning.

Hernan and eight teenage boys and Hanix and I hiked to the tip top of the mountains. I haven't done anything that could really count as physically challenging since probably August of 2009 (um, except childbirth, I s'pose) so I was prepared for some serious huffing and puffing and maybe a little dying. I was pleased that I managed to keep up, though I admit that was probably mostly out of pride, and the knowledge that if I pussied out I wouldn't ever be invited again. Hernan, of course, led the pack despite being saddled with Tubby Baby and suffering from TB, or Pneumonia, or Swine Flu or Dengue or whatever it is that's throwing a phlegm party in his lungs. Still, he couldn't get beat by a pack of teenage boys. Talk about macho.

Anyway, we ascended by trail through the cactus and scrubby brush, and up at the top is a grove of oak trees. It's beautiful. And the view of the lake is amazing. We could even see Guadalajara at one point!

Once at the top, the boys started a game of Hide and Go Seek, which is kind of adorable, since they're all teetering between boyhood and macho manhood. We had sandwiches and soda pop and then came back down the hill.

I really love hiking, and even though it maybe sorta kicked my ass, I'm getting ready to go again.

Oll Raigth

This is awesome. OK, so maybe all I do now is just post videos I want the world to see, but hey, that ain't so bad.

"An Italian singer wrote this song with gibberish to sound like English. If you've ever wondered what other people think Americans sound like, this is it."

It's kinda catchy. And pretty much great. Oll raigth!

See more funny videos and Music Videos at Today's Big Thing.

Galloping Octopus!

If you read my blog you clearly have too much time on your hands, so you should instead spend it watching this video of octopi galloping away with coconut shells and then hiding in them, because it's pretty much fantastic. It has a number of good qualities. (1) It involves animals doing a surprising and clever activity. (2) It involves scampering. (3) It involves hiding. (4) It's educational. Kinda.

After a weekend of food poisoning, a sick baby, a house under construction, non-stop fireworks and a gang of mosquitoes in my bedroom... this video made me smile!

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8408233.stm

Making Lemonade

I admire my dad. He's a cool dude. He was down here in January with my mom and took this photo. I suggest you peruse what else he has on this site, because the man's got some skills. It will probably also motivate you to get out of whatever ugly place you find yourself in and head for the hills. Or the desert. Or the coast. Today, though, I'd like to dwell on this particular shot. We were on our way back to San Juan from a trip around Mexico, and we were trying to make it back to Lake Chapala for some sunset shots. We were rushing and wouldn't have made it at all had I been driving instead of Hernan. Let's hear it for Mexican driving and passing on blind curves.

So, we made it to Ajijic, barely, and my dad took this shot. As I remember it, we were right next to a sewage treatment plant and there were all kinds of trash in the water. But you don't see any of that here. Instead, it looks quite lovely.

Besides giving my dad his propers, I wanted to write about this for another reason. For years I've been annoyed by happy, perky people. Shouldn't we be suspicious of such unwarranted exuberance? A recent study, as reported by the BBC, supports my gut feeling that miserable, gloomy individuals are maybe also more astute, or better at certain thinking tasks anyway. I couldn't find the paper online, but it's called "Think Negative!" and it's by Forgas. Here's something else you can read about it to see why now that I'm an optimist I'll make for a crappy writer and also why all you managers should make your manatees miserable. And, yes, I did just say "manatees".) Think about it this way, you must have missed something if you're that happy. You must not have been paying enough attention. If you had been, you would wipe that perky, contended smile off your face and start bitching and moaning about the sewage and the rubbish. You'd be thinking about pesticides, unregulated dumping, chemical runoff, and the poor, mutated fish.

Or maybe not. So, let me explain how this relates to this pretty photograph. It's not that all the rest of those things aren't important, but maybe they're important too. See how I made that word blue so it would stand out? Good. That is to say, the garbage and all is important, but so is appreciating a beautiful moment. The good things are also important.

There. Did I just blow your mind a little? If you're one of those happy, perky people, then probably not.

So, maybe not all optimists are insufferably perky dim-wits. And maybe not all critics do themselves a favor by focusing on their critiques. And in the end, criticism is useful, but sometimes it gets old. After all, one has to bitch and moan creatively if one wants to make a career out of it, and most of us moaners aren't half as talented as we need to be.

So I could say I gave up my friends, my career, my lifestyle, everything to end up living with my in-laws in poverty in an un-finished house surrounded by rats and cockroaches and dirt and raw sewage, and a highway, and no butter in sight. But, obviously, I'm living with my man-candy husband and am getting to better know his wonderful family, and I spend every day with my beautiful son, and I get to take one day at a time and shake things up and experience some new things. And have I ever mentioned the chilaquiles my mom-in-law makes? They're excellent. It's all perspective. Silver-colored glasses and rose lining and all that. It's whether you include the garbage in the photograph or not.

So I'm remaking myself into an optimist. I should be a great candidate, because Americans make such good optimists. You ever want to meet a pessimist, go to Hungary. Budapest has been conquered by pretty much everyone and their brother Béla. You ask a Hungarian how things'll turn out and you're not likely to hear roses. (What does a rose sound like, anyway? Maybe a chirping sound?) Of course, Hungary has boasted a great many artists and intellectuals, so maybe that backs up the study I mentioned earlier. But optimists supposedly live longer (see this article about a recent study and for a photographic example of an annoying perky person) and Hungary has boasted the highest suicide rate in the world for many years over the last century. (Yes, Hungarians did actually boast of this to me. A few even seemed miffed that they'd come in second to some other country that year. Denmark? Finland? The internet also tells you so. Hungarian Suicide Prevention Project. And if someone randomly finds this blog through some kind of internet search - Don't kill yourself.)

So why am I rambling about photographs and roses and Hungarians? It's because I'm an optimist now. I'm going to join the ranks of the perky (coffee, please) and keep on the sunny side of life. This is, of course, mostly a lie, because I'm sure I'll continue to bitch and moan. It's a habit I won't soon shake. But, I'm all for living it up here in sunny San Juan.

Or something.

Lessons From A Sales Woman

My mother-in-law owns a little shop she runs out of the front of our house. She sells all kinds of things, from baseball caps and hair gel to clothes pins and kids' toys. Every couple of weeks she has Hernan take her up to Guadalajara to buy more merchandise. We visit the marketplaces and street vendors, searching for bargains, and return laden with bags and bags and bags of stuff she can mark up for a few pesos. The profits are small, but she makes enough to put tortillas on the table.

Here are some things I learned today while accompanying her to Guadalajara.

1. Even if you're holding a baby and many large parcels, sprint across the street, because the taxi cabs will not slow down for you, though the driver may honk. He will hit you.

2. Even if you're holding a baby and many large parcels, get out of the way of the ladies with push carts. She will not slow down; she will not honk; she will hit you.

3. All women evidently fit into a B-cup bra size. This is the only size bra my mother-in-law sells in her shop and the only size we saw for sale in GDL.

4. Why wear tight jeans when you can wear spandex leggings designed to look like jeans?

5. Only buy baseball caps that come with tags and stickers. These indicate that the cap is new. Dudes in San Juan pay extra so they can sport caps with tags and stickers still attached.

6. Girls' clothing must be pink.

7. Next time bring snacks.

Wal-Mart Campaign | International Labor Rights Forum

Wal-Mart Campaign | International Labor Rights Forum

Posted using ShareThis

Roughly a year ago Walmart opened up down here in San Antonio, outside of Ajijic. While many expats rejoiced, Hernan and I groaned.

When we say we miss things about the States, we mean our friends, our jobs, and dark beer. We don't mean big box stores that abuse their workers. That's part of American culture I'm not pleased to see is gaining ground in Mexico.

What I didn't realize is that Walmart de México seems to also own Bodega Aurrerá, Superama, Sam's Club, Suburbia, and Vips.

According to the website, "for the seventh year in a row [Walmart de México] was recognized as a Socially Responsible Company by the Mexican Philanthropy Center". So I looked at the Mexican Philanthropy Center's website, and found that "Philanthropic Institutions" are determined by "voluntary self-evaluation and self-regulation". Weak.

Canned Beans - Say What?

I like to read other bloggers' posts about what they love about their lives in Mexico. I'm by no means content to live out my days in San Juan Cosalá, and the very thought fills me with fright, but I still appreciate a lot about life here.

Most of my examples of what I like about being down here, though, I've come to realize, can actually just be summed up by "I like my in-laws" and "I like having more time and no commute".

I like to stumble across other good things about life here. They're unexpected little presents. Today I found one hidden in my silverware Tupperware (Tupperware is to keep the roaches off my spoons, yo).

When I got here I couldn't believe that my mother-in-law didn't own a can opener. "Is she that poor," I thought, "that she can't even afford a can opener??"

I finally got it, though. This morning I was putting silverware away and saw my can opener buried under everything else. I realized - we hardly ever eat anything out of a can. She doesn't own a can opener because it would be pointless to have one around. There are a few canned foods we use on occasion, but these come with pulltops. Everything else, though, we eat fresh, from veggies, to our own boiled beans, to homemade soups. I'm so used to making my own pasta sauce from scratch, I don't even think twice about throwing a pot of tomatos on the stove to boil down.

That, I most definintely like about life here.

Fixed!

This afternoon our geyser of poo was fixed! Now my house no longer smells like the neighborhood outhouse. I am beside myself with gratitude for the good folks who unclogged the sewer.

See, I knew this was a good day.

Ahhhhhhh........ (that's me breathing deeply again)

2010 California Marriage Protection Act

November of last year Californians voted on Prop 8 - to take away rights from a segment of the population. Some would say that that was wrong. Others might say, "Why stop there?"

"RescueMarriage.org is the brain-child of concerned Christian and political activist John Marcotte, who felt strongly that Prop 8 did not go far enough in protecting traditional marriage. With the help of attorneys and friends, Marcotte is attempting to ban divorce in the State of California."

2010 California Marriage Protection Act

And, if you're one of the many who seem to not quite get satire, go here.

The Sun'll Come Out

And it's a new day!

My mother-in-law was right, and this morning I heard the cuetes, but they were farther away from the house, and my baby slept through them this time.

The water is back on, so I can wash laundry.

And the sun is out so I can dry laundry, too.

And I feel inspired to get the sewage cleaned up.

And the day is off to a good start.

Yesterday was clearly a day for ranting. That probably is about half the point of blogging for me. I don't really vent to anyone down here. Hernan and I agreed to not get ourselves down by focusing on what we don't like or what we miss about our old lives in the States. And it would be pretty rude for me to rub it in his family's face that San Juan isn't exactly the cat's meow. So, I turn to the great world of blogging for a little venting from time to time. Ah. Now I can move on.

So I'm back in the game, people. Ready to make the world a better place (and wash the laundry?)

San Juan's Rivers

We're going on three weeks now, three weeks of raw sewage overload. Three weeks of inescapable shit perfume. Three weeks of the Bog of Eternal Stench. Three weeks of living in a porta-potty, on the last day of the county fair, the one located next to the chili dog stand.

My house is flanked by two bubbling streams of human excrement. One is just a few feet from our back door, the other is two properties away in the other direction. There's a third a few properties over from that, as well.

The foul water isn't just slowly oozing its way straight into the lake, either. It's a non-stop stream.

Hernan took this video last week and sent it into Primero Noticias, a morning news show that sometimes airs photos and video that viewers send in.



Our hope is that they'll air this video and shame someone in Jocotepec (our municipal capital) into finally fixing this. We've already tried reporting it ourselves to various people. But no one seems to care.

These Rivers of Retch exist all year long, but normally they just trickle along, and one only notices the stench when one has to jump across to pass by. For the last three weeks, however, and periodically throughout the year, something clogs up the poor pipes and the filth just comes geysering up. We can't escape the smell, not even in my bedroom, a room without windows. It's ever present, and really foul.

And it's going straight into Lake Chapala.

Water, Water Everywhere, Except Not in Our Pipes

Last night it started pouring rain, which was unexpected because we're in the dry season now. This bummed me out because I'd foolishly, foolishly left the laundry to hang on the lines. The clothes and diapers weren't quite dry, so I'd left them up over night. Now everything is soaked and filthy.

It's still raining, 12 hours later, and there's water everywhere. Except in our pipes. We have no water. Again. This happens about once a month, at least. Thank goodness for the water tank on the roof!

5 AM Fireworks and the Virgin

At 5:00 this morning I was reminded that it was December 1st. Fair or not, here are two generalizations about Mexicans. One, they really like the Virgin of Guadalupe. Two, they also like cuetes, those fire cracker rockets that go up in the air and go boom. Put the two together, in San Juan, and whadda ya get? Rockets going up in the air and going boom right outside my bedroom on December 1st. At 5:00 in the morning. Every ten seconds. For forty-five minutes. Every morning for twelve days.

I remember this from last year. It wasn't until about day ten that I complained about "those damn kids setting off fireworks in the middle of the night" to my mother-in-law. She laughed at me and explained that the fireworks were to "celebrate", but were really used to wake people up so they'd go to mass.

Last year was annoying, but this year it's worse. They startled Hanix and made him cry. And that almost made me cry, because I'd only just gotten him to fall asleep. Hopefully he gets used to the noise fast, because we've got eleven more days of it.