March 08, 2006
Okay, I had some more pictures, but they're not wanting to load, and I need to get some sleep - going to be a long day tomorrow.
Some pictures
Tacuba Nueva
San Cristobal Vendors in the town square
Mexico City volcanoes at sunrise
San Cristobal town square at night
Tacuba Nueva - cooking tortillas
San Cristobal Vendors in the town square
Mexico City volcanoes at sunrise
San Cristobal town square at night
Tacuba Nueva - cooking tortillas
(Okay, we're at the Mayol's house in San Cristobal again today, so taking advantage of his fast connection - so many stories to tell, so many pictures to share, and just not enough time. More coming as it is possible. Not tomorrow though - we're going to be way out in the...out there, up in the mountains near Pueblo Nuevo...actually, in another little town/village near it that's up on a mountain I believe. I'll find out. Hey, here's a little picture)
3/8/06
Days are long here, and when you visit a lot of people, you have to eat a lot of food. I must have had about six meals yesterday. But we went to a lot of cool places, met a lot of wonderful people, and saw some beautiful sights. I'm kinda paying now for how much I ate yesterday though I think. It's a bit difficult -- you have to balance gratitude for hospitality (shown by eating the food), with wisdom in knowing how much you can handle when you still have three more meals to eat in the next four hours. Luckily, the portions are not too large. There seems to be a kind of rhythm to a visit -- when we get wherever we're going, there is a warm round of welcomes, with handshakes, hugs, and kisses occasionally. Then the wife (or wives if it's a community, not a home) go off to the kitchen to start preparing some kind of food. Once in a while if there is a daughter old enough she will have this task, and the mother will stay with her husband to talk, get news, and share what's happening with her as well. These meal-snacks can be as simple as a soda or café de olla and cookies if the visit doesn't fall anywhere near a mealtime, or as elaborate as a complete meal. As an example, the last family we visited last night before we headed back to San Cristobal, in Chilon I think it was, made friend plantains for us -- well, the teenage daughter did. It's not like whoever is cooking goes far away though -- most residences are fairly small (though some are quite large -- the socioeconomic strata, if that's how you could describe it, is vast, and often exists next door to one another), and so the woman is making the food usually just a few steps from the dining table that we sit at to visit. One story that Chuck has to keep retelling over and over is that of Emiliano's murder. Everyone seems shocked by it, but in a way, not really. Religious violence is somewhat common here -- not quite as bad as the Catholics and Protestants in Ireland, but similar at times. The town we are in at the moment, Chalchihuitan, is part of the...county, I guess would be equivalent,... where back when there was an uprising and the people kicked all the catholic priests out (or killed them), they also took a sixteen year old boy and crucified him, to kind of make their own version of Christianity, combining their old ways with some of what they had learned from the Catholic church. Nowadays, they still have this combined practice, which includes having what amounts to witch doctors in their church, who will divine why whatever is wrong with you is happening, and if it is a curse, they will take and do some kind of opposing incantation, or sacrifice a chicken, or various other things like that. These kind of religious buildings are marked by a grouping of four or five blue wooden crosses, usually about five or six feet tall, that have circles beyond the ends of the cross points. Actually, I'm sitting in the van right now, because Chuck and a couple of other guys are having a pretty serious conversation and making lots of plans, and I can't follow along at all. I didn't notice when we parked, but there is actually a grouping of the blue crosses right behind the van, five of them, cemented into the ground just to the side of the road. What's interesting though, is that even though there is this history of this created religion here, mixed from Catholic and ancient pagan type of practices, there is also a decently strong Christian presence here as well. And that's why we're here.
As for all we did yesterday, I hardly know where to begin. Well...we had had the day pretty much planned out, but then all the plans fell out. We we're going to Chilon to meet a woman who could direct us to the house of the pastor there, but she had though we we're coming the day before, and so had actually gone to Yajalon (where we had just come from) to visit someone. There was something else we we're going to do, that didn't work out either, so we were just going to get an early start back to San Cristobal to have some down time, when Chuck saw someone he knew from way back when. He and his wife and daughter were waiting for their ride to get back home (there are pickup trucks here with a kind of cage built over them, open in the back, that people ride on and in kind of like buses). But, Chuck offered to give them a ride, and so the adventure began. They lived in Tacuba Nueva, which is a small town that Chuck had wanted to visit, but it is way out in the middle of nowhere, about thirteen miles or so along a narrow (we almost slid off once, because it was a loooong way down), extremely windy, pothole decorated dirt road. It took something close to an hour to get there, and the ride made a trek on a camel look like a Sunday jaunt in a Cadillac. Actually, the way my neck was reacting to the holes makes me think of that rap song lyric, "Break ya neck." In truth, it was fun though, and you learn to roll with the flow.
The village, well town actually, though it almost feels like a village, was smallish and simple, mostly board houses where we went, but the people were wonderful. We got there and Chuck greeted all the people that he hasn't seen in two years, and we were shown their new church (btw, I have pictures of all this stuff I'm talking about), and the guys started talking. I follow what I can, and if it's general stuff, I do alright, but complicated stuff I don't get enough to really make sense of what is happening. So, I went out and did like often do, which is to make friends with the kids. Language barriers become much smaller somehow. They, of course, were quite shy around me, and kept running around corners and bushes, then creep back to see if I was still there. I'm guessing they don't see too many gringos there. Finally, one of the little girls who was carrying around her younger brother left him where I could snap a shot. I have to say, cameras are the greatest ice breakers, especially digital cameras. Slowly, one by one, the kids became curious about what I was doing, and I guess about why after each click I was looking at the back of my camera. One of the little girls came forward, and I asked her if I could take her picture, and she nodded yes (I asked by pointing at the camera, and then at her), and I did, and then showed it to her. This sent her into a fit of giggles, which brought one of her friends over, and the process was repeated, and before I knew it I had at least two dozen kids rioting around me, calling out "Hermano, hermano," trying to get my attention to take their picture. I would point to where I wanted them to go, saying, "Aqui," and they would rush over like a school of fish, and then try to elbow their way to the front. After they heard the snap, they would all rush back en masse, crowding around the little 1.8" screen trying to see themselves, laughing the whole time. After a couple of attempts at posing them, and a whole bunch of just point and shoots (I ended up just switching to auto on the camera, so a lot of the pics are just snapshots), I finally got them to sort of line up and pose one at a time for a photo. One of the grandma types came out of the kitchen/eating area to see what was going on, and the kids convinced her to let me take her photo as well. She stood there stoic and unsmiling for the shot, but at the snap she broke out in laughter, so I snapped again and caught it -- it's one of my favorite shots, and something I really wanted, as she was dressed in the traditional garb of the area (it's a Tzeltal area, more old-school than Yajalon). Anyway, I knew how hard it was for the kids to see their pictures, so I grabbed my computer form the car and downloaded them and out it on slideshow so everyone could see the pictures. That gave me a chance to go inside one of the buildings, the kitchen/eating area actually, and I was really glad I did because the women were inside making fresh tortillas over an open fire. I'd wanted to see this, but in town this is all automated in little tortillarias (they use a machine to make their tortiallas, which actually is kind of like a fortune cookie machine) that actually deliver the tortiallas (wrapped up in the ubiquitous pale pink paper) to your house for 60 pesos a kilo (it works out to about 2 cents a tortilla -- and these are all the small, corn type). Tortillas are served pretty much with every meal, and often take the place of silverware. I haven't mastered that yet -- chopsticks are way easier.
Anyway, back to Tacuba Nueva -- watching the woman make the tortillas was very cool, and I think I got a couple of good shots with some nice lighting -- there are cracks between the boards in the wall, so some light was coming in through there, and also through the open parts of the roof, and also from the fire. I think it was pretty cool. The women go pretty self-conscious quickly though, and when the kids noticed I was shooting again the ran over to try to get in the shots, so I only got a couple of the tortilla process, but still, it was quite cool. Speaking of cool, when I came into the building to download to my computer, the kids got me a frozen popsicle type treat that was quite yummy -- I think it was basically just frozen water and coconut, maybe with some coconut milk, but it was really good.
You know, something else that has really surprised me is that fact that souther Mexico is so absolutely lush and verdant. In the plane flying down to Mexico City all we saw was desert, which is what I've always thought of Mexico as having, but once we got out of there and headed south, the landscape has just gotten greener and greener. I don't think it quite is able to be classified as a tropical rainforest, but it's a far sight from the deserts of the north.
I keep getting off my topic, which is Tacuba Nueva. I'm not sure what else to say though -- it's just a really wonderful place. Like Chuck said, one of the hardest parts of the job is having so little time to spend in to many places. For the people, their life is pretty much the same day in and day out, and so someone from the outside visting is a big deal, and when you can only stay two hours or so, it feels kind of anticlimactic -- I mean, we pretty much drove for as long as we stayed there. Don't get me wrong though, even if the people down here lead simple lives, they are by no means simple and uneducated. One fo the houses we stayed at, their eighth grader was working on her physics and chemistry homework. In general, it seems that the Mexican education system is one of the better ones in the world. Life down here is just different, much more relational, much more family-oriented. Life is much more about the group rather than the individual.
(If the description of real-life violence offends you, don't read the next two paragraphs)
I mentioned religious violence, and I've alluded to Emiliano's death, which turned out to be a murder, but I haven't elaborated on it yet. Basically, Emiliano was the president of the missions group down here that Chuck is a part of, but he also was a kind of leader in his community, and as part of that he was asked to act as a kind of security, along with his brother and cousin, at a town celebration. Someone got drunk and was shooting a pistol in the air, kind of towards the celebration, so Emiliano and his brother and cousin went and disarmed him and put him in some kind of holding cell, presumably to sleep it off. His family heard about what happened, for some reason became enraged about it, and came and found Emiliano and his brother and cousin, and beat them. Emiliano and his brother both died as a result. The thing is that the police, very likely, will do nothing about it. Down here it's all about connections and who you know, and being a Christian is really not popular in certain areas. About 50% or more (the government has admitted to the 50% figure) of the police force is corrupt, and you have to grease the hands of the right people to get anything done, or know the right people [like have your son married to the police chief's daughter, or something like that]. And money down here is a real scarcity -- the average wage (there is a huge disparity, but we're talking average here) is about three dollars a day. Some people make a lot less. For example, today we passed by number of houses that were drying coffee beans in the front yard, and Chuck was saying they might only be able to produce two 100 pound bags per year, which sells at about 80 cents a pound. That 160 bucks might be supplemented to a degree with construction work in town, or something like that, but really, that's the base salary for a lot of people. So, you can see how getting money to get the police interested could be really difficult for his family and community. The thing Chuck worries about is how his family will be able to handle it. Just think how difficult it would be to sit by and watch the people who murdered your father get off scot-free, with the police doing nothing. It's a really difficult situation, with no easy answers.
There is another somewhat related story actually, that pastor Jose was telling the congregation this last Sunday when we first got down here, that Chuck explained to me just the other day when he realized I hadn't caught what was going on. In a neighboring town, I'm not sure where, a man was kidnapped, not for money, but because he was a Christian. His kidnappers took him out to the woods, tied him to a tree, and hacked at him with machetes. They took a large chunk out of his thigh, and cut his arms up pretty bad also. Then they left him there. When he was almost dead, they came and got him, and threw him out on the ground in front of his house. His family found him and took him to get medical help, and he's gotten a good bit better and it looks like he'll live, but he'll probably never walk again. So yeah, there's a price for being a Christian, and in some parts of the world it can be your life. Just a little reminder.
---Okay, leaving the stories of violence now.
One of the big things that sets Christians apart down here is not drinking. Alcoholism is a huge issue down here (the first couple of people I saw passed out on the side of the road I thought were dead, till I realized that they were passed out. Actually, last night on the drive back to San Cristobal we stopped when we saw a guy passed out right in the middle of the highway, that gets driven on at about 65-70 miles an hour. I was driving, and luckily already slowing before I even saw him, because I thought there was a topé coming up [topés are really harsh speedbumps that you need to go over at a crawl -- they have them on each side of each little town that sits on the highway, and several within the towns as well], and so I didn't even get close to hitting him, but he literally was passed out in the middle of the road. I stopped the car and Chuck got out and dragged him off to the side to sleep it off. Even that's kind of dangerous though, because if they wake up they might think you're trying to rob them or something, or just try to attack you if they don't know what's going on. This guy was pretty out of it though -- I pray he made it okay) -- okay, that was a really long insertion of information. Anyway, alcoholism is a big issue. Sociologists have kind of linked it possibly to the historical use of alcohol in indigenous culture, where is was used as a means of having a "religious experience" -- getting drunk, having dreams and visions, etc. The point is that drinking was always done to get drunk. It used to be a very controlled thing though, only done at times of religious festivals and such. So, some people reason, that's why down here the only reason you drink is to get drunk. It's been likened to the use of peyote by Native Americans in certain of their religious practices.
Beyond that, there is really a whole spirit of subjugation down here, that expresses itself in many ways, and seems to be rooted in the fact that the people of Mexico have been conquered so many times, and so brutally, historically. There is a slow change happening, I think, but especially in the older generation, or in the more traditional families, they don't look you in the eye, but rather keep their head bowed down. They look away when you look at them. The handshake is a constant presence, especially when meeting anyone new, but it is weak and limp, almost more of a brush. I'm kind of getting into a whole can of sociological, economic, historic, and a whole mess of other issue that I don't fully understand, but I'm just relating what I've learned, been told, and observed myself.
One thing that can't be denied is the amazing hospitality everyone down here has shown us. In the states it's all about quantity, flash, show, and social standing. Down here, it's about quality, content, realness, and relationships. The kids down here are some of the poorest you'll ever see. I watched some today that were using a string tied around one end of a woven plastic type of bag, like something you'd buy a hundred pounds of rice in, to give each other rides along the pothole filled street. They are poor in so many senses of the word, but they are rich in family, in the time their parents spend with them, in love, and in knowing they are loved. So many of the conceptions we have of Mexico and it's people are false, and not every place is poor and destitute. Poverty does not equal laziness, nor does it equal unintelligence. The culture down here is different, but there are certain aspects of it that I'd like to see incorporated into my life, and some parts of my life that I'd like to see become part of life down here. You have to realize though that it's not your job to change people, but to love them. That's what Chuck being down here is all about.
In Agape...
Days are long here, and when you visit a lot of people, you have to eat a lot of food. I must have had about six meals yesterday. But we went to a lot of cool places, met a lot of wonderful people, and saw some beautiful sights. I'm kinda paying now for how much I ate yesterday though I think. It's a bit difficult -- you have to balance gratitude for hospitality (shown by eating the food), with wisdom in knowing how much you can handle when you still have three more meals to eat in the next four hours. Luckily, the portions are not too large. There seems to be a kind of rhythm to a visit -- when we get wherever we're going, there is a warm round of welcomes, with handshakes, hugs, and kisses occasionally. Then the wife (or wives if it's a community, not a home) go off to the kitchen to start preparing some kind of food. Once in a while if there is a daughter old enough she will have this task, and the mother will stay with her husband to talk, get news, and share what's happening with her as well. These meal-snacks can be as simple as a soda or café de olla and cookies if the visit doesn't fall anywhere near a mealtime, or as elaborate as a complete meal. As an example, the last family we visited last night before we headed back to San Cristobal, in Chilon I think it was, made friend plantains for us -- well, the teenage daughter did. It's not like whoever is cooking goes far away though -- most residences are fairly small (though some are quite large -- the socioeconomic strata, if that's how you could describe it, is vast, and often exists next door to one another), and so the woman is making the food usually just a few steps from the dining table that we sit at to visit. One story that Chuck has to keep retelling over and over is that of Emiliano's murder. Everyone seems shocked by it, but in a way, not really. Religious violence is somewhat common here -- not quite as bad as the Catholics and Protestants in Ireland, but similar at times. The town we are in at the moment, Chalchihuitan, is part of the...county, I guess would be equivalent,... where back when there was an uprising and the people kicked all the catholic priests out (or killed them), they also took a sixteen year old boy and crucified him, to kind of make their own version of Christianity, combining their old ways with some of what they had learned from the Catholic church. Nowadays, they still have this combined practice, which includes having what amounts to witch doctors in their church, who will divine why whatever is wrong with you is happening, and if it is a curse, they will take and do some kind of opposing incantation, or sacrifice a chicken, or various other things like that. These kind of religious buildings are marked by a grouping of four or five blue wooden crosses, usually about five or six feet tall, that have circles beyond the ends of the cross points. Actually, I'm sitting in the van right now, because Chuck and a couple of other guys are having a pretty serious conversation and making lots of plans, and I can't follow along at all. I didn't notice when we parked, but there is actually a grouping of the blue crosses right behind the van, five of them, cemented into the ground just to the side of the road. What's interesting though, is that even though there is this history of this created religion here, mixed from Catholic and ancient pagan type of practices, there is also a decently strong Christian presence here as well. And that's why we're here.
As for all we did yesterday, I hardly know where to begin. Well...we had had the day pretty much planned out, but then all the plans fell out. We we're going to Chilon to meet a woman who could direct us to the house of the pastor there, but she had though we we're coming the day before, and so had actually gone to Yajalon (where we had just come from) to visit someone. There was something else we we're going to do, that didn't work out either, so we were just going to get an early start back to San Cristobal to have some down time, when Chuck saw someone he knew from way back when. He and his wife and daughter were waiting for their ride to get back home (there are pickup trucks here with a kind of cage built over them, open in the back, that people ride on and in kind of like buses). But, Chuck offered to give them a ride, and so the adventure began. They lived in Tacuba Nueva, which is a small town that Chuck had wanted to visit, but it is way out in the middle of nowhere, about thirteen miles or so along a narrow (we almost slid off once, because it was a loooong way down), extremely windy, pothole decorated dirt road. It took something close to an hour to get there, and the ride made a trek on a camel look like a Sunday jaunt in a Cadillac. Actually, the way my neck was reacting to the holes makes me think of that rap song lyric, "Break ya neck." In truth, it was fun though, and you learn to roll with the flow.
The village, well town actually, though it almost feels like a village, was smallish and simple, mostly board houses where we went, but the people were wonderful. We got there and Chuck greeted all the people that he hasn't seen in two years, and we were shown their new church (btw, I have pictures of all this stuff I'm talking about), and the guys started talking. I follow what I can, and if it's general stuff, I do alright, but complicated stuff I don't get enough to really make sense of what is happening. So, I went out and did like often do, which is to make friends with the kids. Language barriers become much smaller somehow. They, of course, were quite shy around me, and kept running around corners and bushes, then creep back to see if I was still there. I'm guessing they don't see too many gringos there. Finally, one of the little girls who was carrying around her younger brother left him where I could snap a shot. I have to say, cameras are the greatest ice breakers, especially digital cameras. Slowly, one by one, the kids became curious about what I was doing, and I guess about why after each click I was looking at the back of my camera. One of the little girls came forward, and I asked her if I could take her picture, and she nodded yes (I asked by pointing at the camera, and then at her), and I did, and then showed it to her. This sent her into a fit of giggles, which brought one of her friends over, and the process was repeated, and before I knew it I had at least two dozen kids rioting around me, calling out "Hermano, hermano," trying to get my attention to take their picture. I would point to where I wanted them to go, saying, "Aqui," and they would rush over like a school of fish, and then try to elbow their way to the front. After they heard the snap, they would all rush back en masse, crowding around the little 1.8" screen trying to see themselves, laughing the whole time. After a couple of attempts at posing them, and a whole bunch of just point and shoots (I ended up just switching to auto on the camera, so a lot of the pics are just snapshots), I finally got them to sort of line up and pose one at a time for a photo. One of the grandma types came out of the kitchen/eating area to see what was going on, and the kids convinced her to let me take her photo as well. She stood there stoic and unsmiling for the shot, but at the snap she broke out in laughter, so I snapped again and caught it -- it's one of my favorite shots, and something I really wanted, as she was dressed in the traditional garb of the area (it's a Tzeltal area, more old-school than Yajalon). Anyway, I knew how hard it was for the kids to see their pictures, so I grabbed my computer form the car and downloaded them and out it on slideshow so everyone could see the pictures. That gave me a chance to go inside one of the buildings, the kitchen/eating area actually, and I was really glad I did because the women were inside making fresh tortillas over an open fire. I'd wanted to see this, but in town this is all automated in little tortillarias (they use a machine to make their tortiallas, which actually is kind of like a fortune cookie machine) that actually deliver the tortiallas (wrapped up in the ubiquitous pale pink paper) to your house for 60 pesos a kilo (it works out to about 2 cents a tortilla -- and these are all the small, corn type). Tortillas are served pretty much with every meal, and often take the place of silverware. I haven't mastered that yet -- chopsticks are way easier.
Anyway, back to Tacuba Nueva -- watching the woman make the tortillas was very cool, and I think I got a couple of good shots with some nice lighting -- there are cracks between the boards in the wall, so some light was coming in through there, and also through the open parts of the roof, and also from the fire. I think it was pretty cool. The women go pretty self-conscious quickly though, and when the kids noticed I was shooting again the ran over to try to get in the shots, so I only got a couple of the tortilla process, but still, it was quite cool. Speaking of cool, when I came into the building to download to my computer, the kids got me a frozen popsicle type treat that was quite yummy -- I think it was basically just frozen water and coconut, maybe with some coconut milk, but it was really good.
You know, something else that has really surprised me is that fact that souther Mexico is so absolutely lush and verdant. In the plane flying down to Mexico City all we saw was desert, which is what I've always thought of Mexico as having, but once we got out of there and headed south, the landscape has just gotten greener and greener. I don't think it quite is able to be classified as a tropical rainforest, but it's a far sight from the deserts of the north.
I keep getting off my topic, which is Tacuba Nueva. I'm not sure what else to say though -- it's just a really wonderful place. Like Chuck said, one of the hardest parts of the job is having so little time to spend in to many places. For the people, their life is pretty much the same day in and day out, and so someone from the outside visting is a big deal, and when you can only stay two hours or so, it feels kind of anticlimactic -- I mean, we pretty much drove for as long as we stayed there. Don't get me wrong though, even if the people down here lead simple lives, they are by no means simple and uneducated. One fo the houses we stayed at, their eighth grader was working on her physics and chemistry homework. In general, it seems that the Mexican education system is one of the better ones in the world. Life down here is just different, much more relational, much more family-oriented. Life is much more about the group rather than the individual.
(If the description of real-life violence offends you, don't read the next two paragraphs)
I mentioned religious violence, and I've alluded to Emiliano's death, which turned out to be a murder, but I haven't elaborated on it yet. Basically, Emiliano was the president of the missions group down here that Chuck is a part of, but he also was a kind of leader in his community, and as part of that he was asked to act as a kind of security, along with his brother and cousin, at a town celebration. Someone got drunk and was shooting a pistol in the air, kind of towards the celebration, so Emiliano and his brother and cousin went and disarmed him and put him in some kind of holding cell, presumably to sleep it off. His family heard about what happened, for some reason became enraged about it, and came and found Emiliano and his brother and cousin, and beat them. Emiliano and his brother both died as a result. The thing is that the police, very likely, will do nothing about it. Down here it's all about connections and who you know, and being a Christian is really not popular in certain areas. About 50% or more (the government has admitted to the 50% figure) of the police force is corrupt, and you have to grease the hands of the right people to get anything done, or know the right people [like have your son married to the police chief's daughter, or something like that]. And money down here is a real scarcity -- the average wage (there is a huge disparity, but we're talking average here) is about three dollars a day. Some people make a lot less. For example, today we passed by number of houses that were drying coffee beans in the front yard, and Chuck was saying they might only be able to produce two 100 pound bags per year, which sells at about 80 cents a pound. That 160 bucks might be supplemented to a degree with construction work in town, or something like that, but really, that's the base salary for a lot of people. So, you can see how getting money to get the police interested could be really difficult for his family and community. The thing Chuck worries about is how his family will be able to handle it. Just think how difficult it would be to sit by and watch the people who murdered your father get off scot-free, with the police doing nothing. It's a really difficult situation, with no easy answers.
There is another somewhat related story actually, that pastor Jose was telling the congregation this last Sunday when we first got down here, that Chuck explained to me just the other day when he realized I hadn't caught what was going on. In a neighboring town, I'm not sure where, a man was kidnapped, not for money, but because he was a Christian. His kidnappers took him out to the woods, tied him to a tree, and hacked at him with machetes. They took a large chunk out of his thigh, and cut his arms up pretty bad also. Then they left him there. When he was almost dead, they came and got him, and threw him out on the ground in front of his house. His family found him and took him to get medical help, and he's gotten a good bit better and it looks like he'll live, but he'll probably never walk again. So yeah, there's a price for being a Christian, and in some parts of the world it can be your life. Just a little reminder.
---Okay, leaving the stories of violence now.
One of the big things that sets Christians apart down here is not drinking. Alcoholism is a huge issue down here (the first couple of people I saw passed out on the side of the road I thought were dead, till I realized that they were passed out. Actually, last night on the drive back to San Cristobal we stopped when we saw a guy passed out right in the middle of the highway, that gets driven on at about 65-70 miles an hour. I was driving, and luckily already slowing before I even saw him, because I thought there was a topé coming up [topés are really harsh speedbumps that you need to go over at a crawl -- they have them on each side of each little town that sits on the highway, and several within the towns as well], and so I didn't even get close to hitting him, but he literally was passed out in the middle of the road. I stopped the car and Chuck got out and dragged him off to the side to sleep it off. Even that's kind of dangerous though, because if they wake up they might think you're trying to rob them or something, or just try to attack you if they don't know what's going on. This guy was pretty out of it though -- I pray he made it okay) -- okay, that was a really long insertion of information. Anyway, alcoholism is a big issue. Sociologists have kind of linked it possibly to the historical use of alcohol in indigenous culture, where is was used as a means of having a "religious experience" -- getting drunk, having dreams and visions, etc. The point is that drinking was always done to get drunk. It used to be a very controlled thing though, only done at times of religious festivals and such. So, some people reason, that's why down here the only reason you drink is to get drunk. It's been likened to the use of peyote by Native Americans in certain of their religious practices.
Beyond that, there is really a whole spirit of subjugation down here, that expresses itself in many ways, and seems to be rooted in the fact that the people of Mexico have been conquered so many times, and so brutally, historically. There is a slow change happening, I think, but especially in the older generation, or in the more traditional families, they don't look you in the eye, but rather keep their head bowed down. They look away when you look at them. The handshake is a constant presence, especially when meeting anyone new, but it is weak and limp, almost more of a brush. I'm kind of getting into a whole can of sociological, economic, historic, and a whole mess of other issue that I don't fully understand, but I'm just relating what I've learned, been told, and observed myself.
One thing that can't be denied is the amazing hospitality everyone down here has shown us. In the states it's all about quantity, flash, show, and social standing. Down here, it's about quality, content, realness, and relationships. The kids down here are some of the poorest you'll ever see. I watched some today that were using a string tied around one end of a woven plastic type of bag, like something you'd buy a hundred pounds of rice in, to give each other rides along the pothole filled street. They are poor in so many senses of the word, but they are rich in family, in the time their parents spend with them, in love, and in knowing they are loved. So many of the conceptions we have of Mexico and it's people are false, and not every place is poor and destitute. Poverty does not equal laziness, nor does it equal unintelligence. The culture down here is different, but there are certain aspects of it that I'd like to see incorporated into my life, and some parts of my life that I'd like to see become part of life down here. You have to realize though that it's not your job to change people, but to love them. That's what Chuck being down here is all about.
In Agape...
3/7/06
I spoke a little too soon. I can sleep through anything, but getting to sleep is slightly harder when your lullaby is a chorus of barking dogs and crowing roosters. In reality though, you acclimate quickly. Plus, I was tired. At any rate, sleep came fairly quickly, but so did the morning. I woke up about 4;30, but didn't really get up till about 6:30. Chuck was still asleep, but I went into the kitchen and had some café de olla, and Adin and I tried to converse, using a Spanish/English dictionary and a phrase book. As seems to happen, our plans for the day got changed, partly because a road we were going to use was not in good enough condition I think, and so we ended up having the day pretty free and unstructured. So, Chuck decided to show me Tila, a city about 40 minutes or so from Yajalon. It has a very famous and beautiful church on the top of a tall hill (let me tell you, it was a hike to get up to it) in the middle of town. It's a catholic church though, and he said that if we were local Protestants, it might not be safe, since our visiting it might be considered an insult. As foreigners and unknowns though, we were fine. I think a guy did kind of follow us around in the church though, but I think that was just because I had my camera slung over my shoulder, and pictures of Señor Tila are not allowed. Señor Tila is...well, it's kind of complicated. When indigenous people were conquered and forced to build churches, sometimes they would place their idols in the walls of the church, or their religious symbols in its design, so that when they went in to worship, they'd really be worshipping their gods. Or, other times, they would take and combine their beliefs with the beliefs that were brought or forced upon them. The original Franciscan monks truly tried to teach Christianity to the peoples, but then conquering became more important to TPTB (you might not get that if you're not up on your recent pop culture), and religios conversion became forced as more and different orders of monks and such came to Mexico. Anyway, Señor Tila is...it's kind of difficult to explain, as I don't quite understand fully...but, it's kind of like he's supposed to be a special manifestation of Christ that is unique to that town. Like a real presence or visitation that stays. Kind of like how in the catholic church they believe the bread and wine of communion become the real flesh and blood of Christ. Kind of a poor explanation, but I don't understand it enough to say more. Needless to say, it is a very special church for the people, and is fairly famous I think. Anyway, it is a very beautiful city, but the streets are extremely steep, and I was sweating by the time I got to the top. Before we went in to the church we rested in the town square (every town has one, and they're all supposed to have a church next to them) and I grabbed a few shots. I only wish I could have seen the place at sunset -- from a distance, since the church is the tallest thing in town, and because it is painted such a bright golden orange-pink, it catches the last rays of the setting sun and just glows -- or so I was told. It's very easy to imagine.
Anyway, on the ride back, Chuck missed his turn, and since turns are only every several miles, we drove for 40 minutes before he realized it. Finally we got to a town that we we're supposed to, and turned around. Chuck said I better not tell anyone, but since it was almost the first thing he told everyone we visited the rest of the day, I'm sharing. He was so embarrassed, since he lived here for 15 years. He needs to be cut a little slack though -- he hasn't been here for 2 years, and the last time he was here the road we accidentally took was just dirt. He was just thinking that since it was paved, it was the right road -- it's not like there' that many roads around that are paved and in decent condition.
Finally we got back, and visited with several different families after picking up our stuff from Amin's house. Chuck promised me that I would lose weight on this trip, but if we keep getting fed everywhere we go, that's not going to happen. It's good food though, and the people are simply wonderful. Everything is simple, but shared with an open hand and a smile, even with a "no entiende" and "poquito comprende Española" gringo like myself.
Wow -- there's so much more I want to write, but we have to get going again. We stayed the night at Pastor Jose's house, but he just left to go up to his coffee plantation (I think he has about 15 acres...or maybe it was 8 acres...anyway, it's a pretty big size farm for around here. He gave us some coffee that he grew before he left. I hope it gets through customs okay. We need to go get Pastor Amin to go to a church over in Chilon. Couple other stops, then back to San Cristobal for tonight. I haven't spent two nights in a row in the same place yet. Good thing I can travel light and easily. Anyway, I should have internet connection again, so I plan on posting this, and maybe sending some more pics by email. Probably will wait till I get home to post things on my web site. Anyway...
Bonish (bow-neesh -- "goodbye" in Tzeltal)
I spoke a little too soon. I can sleep through anything, but getting to sleep is slightly harder when your lullaby is a chorus of barking dogs and crowing roosters. In reality though, you acclimate quickly. Plus, I was tired. At any rate, sleep came fairly quickly, but so did the morning. I woke up about 4;30, but didn't really get up till about 6:30. Chuck was still asleep, but I went into the kitchen and had some café de olla, and Adin and I tried to converse, using a Spanish/English dictionary and a phrase book. As seems to happen, our plans for the day got changed, partly because a road we were going to use was not in good enough condition I think, and so we ended up having the day pretty free and unstructured. So, Chuck decided to show me Tila, a city about 40 minutes or so from Yajalon. It has a very famous and beautiful church on the top of a tall hill (let me tell you, it was a hike to get up to it) in the middle of town. It's a catholic church though, and he said that if we were local Protestants, it might not be safe, since our visiting it might be considered an insult. As foreigners and unknowns though, we were fine. I think a guy did kind of follow us around in the church though, but I think that was just because I had my camera slung over my shoulder, and pictures of Señor Tila are not allowed. Señor Tila is...well, it's kind of complicated. When indigenous people were conquered and forced to build churches, sometimes they would place their idols in the walls of the church, or their religious symbols in its design, so that when they went in to worship, they'd really be worshipping their gods. Or, other times, they would take and combine their beliefs with the beliefs that were brought or forced upon them. The original Franciscan monks truly tried to teach Christianity to the peoples, but then conquering became more important to TPTB (you might not get that if you're not up on your recent pop culture), and religios conversion became forced as more and different orders of monks and such came to Mexico. Anyway, Señor Tila is...it's kind of difficult to explain, as I don't quite understand fully...but, it's kind of like he's supposed to be a special manifestation of Christ that is unique to that town. Like a real presence or visitation that stays. Kind of like how in the catholic church they believe the bread and wine of communion become the real flesh and blood of Christ. Kind of a poor explanation, but I don't understand it enough to say more. Needless to say, it is a very special church for the people, and is fairly famous I think. Anyway, it is a very beautiful city, but the streets are extremely steep, and I was sweating by the time I got to the top. Before we went in to the church we rested in the town square (every town has one, and they're all supposed to have a church next to them) and I grabbed a few shots. I only wish I could have seen the place at sunset -- from a distance, since the church is the tallest thing in town, and because it is painted such a bright golden orange-pink, it catches the last rays of the setting sun and just glows -- or so I was told. It's very easy to imagine.
Anyway, on the ride back, Chuck missed his turn, and since turns are only every several miles, we drove for 40 minutes before he realized it. Finally we got to a town that we we're supposed to, and turned around. Chuck said I better not tell anyone, but since it was almost the first thing he told everyone we visited the rest of the day, I'm sharing. He was so embarrassed, since he lived here for 15 years. He needs to be cut a little slack though -- he hasn't been here for 2 years, and the last time he was here the road we accidentally took was just dirt. He was just thinking that since it was paved, it was the right road -- it's not like there' that many roads around that are paved and in decent condition.
Finally we got back, and visited with several different families after picking up our stuff from Amin's house. Chuck promised me that I would lose weight on this trip, but if we keep getting fed everywhere we go, that's not going to happen. It's good food though, and the people are simply wonderful. Everything is simple, but shared with an open hand and a smile, even with a "no entiende" and "poquito comprende Española" gringo like myself.
Wow -- there's so much more I want to write, but we have to get going again. We stayed the night at Pastor Jose's house, but he just left to go up to his coffee plantation (I think he has about 15 acres...or maybe it was 8 acres...anyway, it's a pretty big size farm for around here. He gave us some coffee that he grew before he left. I hope it gets through customs okay. We need to go get Pastor Amin to go to a church over in Chilon. Couple other stops, then back to San Cristobal for tonight. I haven't spent two nights in a row in the same place yet. Good thing I can travel light and easily. Anyway, I should have internet connection again, so I plan on posting this, and maybe sending some more pics by email. Probably will wait till I get home to post things on my web site. Anyway...
Bonish (bow-neesh -- "goodbye" in Tzeltal)
March 04, 2006
Okay, I got most of them, but a few keep popping up. When you see funky characters, that's because I'm typing all this up in Word as I'm able, and then copy-pasting to post it. Blogspot doesn't like the special characters that Word uses...so some gibberish shows up every once in a while. I'm too tired to fix any more, so just be aware that that's what is going on.
Hola!
(have a fast connection at the moment, so doing some posting)
3/4/06
Wow, what a trip so far. By the time I got to Mexico city last night, I was to tired to write anything. After I finished my last entry I watched my movie, or half of it anyway (the original 1925 "Metropolis"), chatted with the people seated across from me (a middle-aged woman, and a maybe-twenty year old college student, who both happened to be named Lorna. Ended up getting in to Bakersfield almost 20 minutes early, but luckily Chuck was just walking up as I stepped off the train. We stopped to have dinner at a little burger joint called Zorbas (in Oildale?), and then we drove to his house - which happens to be something like 37 miles outside of Bakersfield, way out in the country, with windy roads almost the whole way. Chuck knows the way well though, and just flew over it, with which lane he was in being quite an arbitrary thing - luckily, there was hardly anyone else on the road (now that I'm down in Mexico, I understand why he drives the way he does). Got to his house by 8:30 or 9:00, met Ramona his wife, and she sat me down and told me what to expect while traveling Chuck - I guess he has a tendency to push hard, but I'm doing good so far. Got to my room, but of course didn't get to sleep till late (about 1:00), and then had to get up at four to get everything in the car and get back down to Bakersfield to catch a 6AM train to LAX to catch a 10:30 flight. Everything was going fine until I tried to check in, and the birth certificate that I had brought was not a "legal" birth certificate (it was issued by the hospital, no the state). So, we had to do a mad dash to a different terminal, find the notary republic, and have him make me an affidavit of citizenship. We made it to the plane ten minutes before it backed away from the gate. Lucky us - they can cancel your reservation a half hour before take-off if you're not there. I had started to stress over it when she said "This isn't acceptable," but then as we were running I just stopped and let go because I realized God was in control, and if I didn't go, I didn't go. But...it all worked out...I hope....I'll find out for sure when I try to reenter the states.
Anyway, we finally got on our way, had a perfectly fine flight (only a little bit of crying from one baby), got in a little late, (about four in the afternoon, or about two in California), got a taxi (which only cost 20 dollars - really good for how far we went), and made our way across Mexico City to the seminary (you know, I'm still tired - I just typed "cemetery" without realizing it), settled in, got some dinner, and went back to the seminary. It's an interesting place - it used to be a lot bigger, but it has slowly shrunk over the years, and only has a couple buildings now. Where we stayed is at the top of a 10 story apartment building of very unique design. It was designed many years ago by a young architect just starting out, who has since become quite well known. Basically is a round shape, and very narrow, with only three rooms one each of the first 9 floors, which are rented out to generate income. The tenth floor houses some of the people who are involved in the ministry. I got to go up on the roof and could see the cement water storage tanks on the roof, and see the city from that high vantage point as well. On one side, just a couple blocks away, I could see the old Olympic Stadium (from 1968 I think?), and further away a huge soccer stadium that Michael Jackson has filled multiple times, that holds something like 150,000 people. I haven't downloaded my pics yet, but hopefully I got some to turn out.
After dinner, I was just so tired, that while Chuck talked with Noe about memorial plans and related stuff for Emeliano, I ended up going to my room, and fairly quickly falling asleep - I had a cot that I put a blanket and a sleeping bag on and slept soundly till Chuck woke me up a little before 5AM. Took a shower (quite interesting - I didn't think I was going to get any hot water, but just as I had gritted my teeth and plunged in, it started to warm up. That was a huge thank you God, cause that water was C-O-L-D. I also broke my shampoo bottle, but whatever...), finished getting ready, and we were on our way by about 6AM. A short stop to have breakfast about two hours out in Peubla, and then 600 miles and twelve hours later, we drove into San Cristobal de las Casas, in Chiapas (Mexico City is in Districto Federal, which is kind of like Washington D.C. - the other states we drove through on our journey included Estado de Mexico, Veracruz, and Tabasco). We didn't take the most direct route, but rather the fastest one, because we used toll roads, which are (for the most part) in fairly good repair. They are crazy expensive though - to drive that six hundred miles the tolls (casetas) were well over a hundred bucks. The cheapest one was like $1.30, and the most expensive one $14.50. But, they kept coming and coming, what seemed like every few miles. If there weren't other circumstances that required a vehicle, it would be much cheaper to simply fly down here. Oh, I got to drive in Mexico - about 430 of the 1,000ish kilometer trip. Fun times. Driving out in the country is fine, but to drive in Mexico City... I think you need to have titanium-reinforced steel cajones, with a Kevlar coating. Seriously, the people in town drive insane. It's like the lane markers don't mean anything, and the color of the light means just a little more. Forget about a speed limit, or using your blinkers, or waiting for the light to turn green before honking for the person in front of you to go. I'm telling you, our cabbie knew the light was going to turn green a half-second before the light itself did. Yet, somehow, the people are surprisingly courteous as well.
The food down here is really quite good, but you don't get anything that you associate with Mexican food back home - like burritos, for example. They really don't have the same thing down here. They do have Burger King, McDonald's, and Starbucks though, as well as Costco and Wal-Mart. I just had some home-cooked food though,, here at Ricardo Mayol's house (he's one smart guy - went to MIT for his masters in Urban Planning, and he has a PhD also). His wife Doris (also incredibly smart, and finishing up her PhD right now I believe) made some refried beans and rice, with some tortillas, as well as a cauliflower (?) and cheese soup. She just made me some coffee, some café con leche, to drink as I type this. The speak English, but most conversation is with Chuck in Spanish, so I follow along as I can, picking out words here and there to get 20-30% of the gist of the conversation. It's real fun not knowing the language when you go into a restaurant and try to order from a menu that doesn't have any pictures. Basically, I'm just trying to find something that has some words that I recognize in it, and order that, hoping for the best. Maybe my Spanish will be better before I leave. I can already puzzle out most of the road signs.
The ride was a great time to talk with Chuck and get to know him, hitting on all the fun hot-button topics like politics and religion. Got a little past-history stuff from him as well, from back when he knew my parents before they were married. Tomorrow's going to be another early day - we'll be going to Yajalon for church, and also we'll be spending the next couple of days there, and in Chilon, which are both Tzeltal towns (Tzeltal is one of the indigenous languages, along with Tzotzil and Ch'ol, in this area).
I don't want to get too much into our plans until they happen, plus this is getting really long, so I'll end here for now. Just to post this (Ricardo has a fast connection), download my pictures, and try to get a good night's rest. Hasta Manana.
3/4/06
Wow, what a trip so far. By the time I got to Mexico city last night, I was to tired to write anything. After I finished my last entry I watched my movie, or half of it anyway (the original 1925 "Metropolis"), chatted with the people seated across from me (a middle-aged woman, and a maybe-twenty year old college student, who both happened to be named Lorna. Ended up getting in to Bakersfield almost 20 minutes early, but luckily Chuck was just walking up as I stepped off the train. We stopped to have dinner at a little burger joint called Zorbas (in Oildale?), and then we drove to his house - which happens to be something like 37 miles outside of Bakersfield, way out in the country, with windy roads almost the whole way. Chuck knows the way well though, and just flew over it, with which lane he was in being quite an arbitrary thing - luckily, there was hardly anyone else on the road (now that I'm down in Mexico, I understand why he drives the way he does). Got to his house by 8:30 or 9:00, met Ramona his wife, and she sat me down and told me what to expect while traveling Chuck - I guess he has a tendency to push hard, but I'm doing good so far. Got to my room, but of course didn't get to sleep till late (about 1:00), and then had to get up at four to get everything in the car and get back down to Bakersfield to catch a 6AM train to LAX to catch a 10:30 flight. Everything was going fine until I tried to check in, and the birth certificate that I had brought was not a "legal" birth certificate (it was issued by the hospital, no the state). So, we had to do a mad dash to a different terminal, find the notary republic, and have him make me an affidavit of citizenship. We made it to the plane ten minutes before it backed away from the gate. Lucky us - they can cancel your reservation a half hour before take-off if you're not there. I had started to stress over it when she said "This isn't acceptable," but then as we were running I just stopped and let go because I realized God was in control, and if I didn't go, I didn't go. But...it all worked out...I hope....I'll find out for sure when I try to reenter the states.
Anyway, we finally got on our way, had a perfectly fine flight (only a little bit of crying from one baby), got in a little late, (about four in the afternoon, or about two in California), got a taxi (which only cost 20 dollars - really good for how far we went), and made our way across Mexico City to the seminary (you know, I'm still tired - I just typed "cemetery" without realizing it), settled in, got some dinner, and went back to the seminary. It's an interesting place - it used to be a lot bigger, but it has slowly shrunk over the years, and only has a couple buildings now. Where we stayed is at the top of a 10 story apartment building of very unique design. It was designed many years ago by a young architect just starting out, who has since become quite well known. Basically is a round shape, and very narrow, with only three rooms one each of the first 9 floors, which are rented out to generate income. The tenth floor houses some of the people who are involved in the ministry. I got to go up on the roof and could see the cement water storage tanks on the roof, and see the city from that high vantage point as well. On one side, just a couple blocks away, I could see the old Olympic Stadium (from 1968 I think?), and further away a huge soccer stadium that Michael Jackson has filled multiple times, that holds something like 150,000 people. I haven't downloaded my pics yet, but hopefully I got some to turn out.
After dinner, I was just so tired, that while Chuck talked with Noe about memorial plans and related stuff for Emeliano, I ended up going to my room, and fairly quickly falling asleep - I had a cot that I put a blanket and a sleeping bag on and slept soundly till Chuck woke me up a little before 5AM. Took a shower (quite interesting - I didn't think I was going to get any hot water, but just as I had gritted my teeth and plunged in, it started to warm up. That was a huge thank you God, cause that water was C-O-L-D. I also broke my shampoo bottle, but whatever...), finished getting ready, and we were on our way by about 6AM. A short stop to have breakfast about two hours out in Peubla, and then 600 miles and twelve hours later, we drove into San Cristobal de las Casas, in Chiapas (Mexico City is in Districto Federal, which is kind of like Washington D.C. - the other states we drove through on our journey included Estado de Mexico, Veracruz, and Tabasco). We didn't take the most direct route, but rather the fastest one, because we used toll roads, which are (for the most part) in fairly good repair. They are crazy expensive though - to drive that six hundred miles the tolls (casetas) were well over a hundred bucks. The cheapest one was like $1.30, and the most expensive one $14.50. But, they kept coming and coming, what seemed like every few miles. If there weren't other circumstances that required a vehicle, it would be much cheaper to simply fly down here. Oh, I got to drive in Mexico - about 430 of the 1,000ish kilometer trip. Fun times. Driving out in the country is fine, but to drive in Mexico City... I think you need to have titanium-reinforced steel cajones, with a Kevlar coating. Seriously, the people in town drive insane. It's like the lane markers don't mean anything, and the color of the light means just a little more. Forget about a speed limit, or using your blinkers, or waiting for the light to turn green before honking for the person in front of you to go. I'm telling you, our cabbie knew the light was going to turn green a half-second before the light itself did. Yet, somehow, the people are surprisingly courteous as well.
The food down here is really quite good, but you don't get anything that you associate with Mexican food back home - like burritos, for example. They really don't have the same thing down here. They do have Burger King, McDonald's, and Starbucks though, as well as Costco and Wal-Mart. I just had some home-cooked food though,, here at Ricardo Mayol's house (he's one smart guy - went to MIT for his masters in Urban Planning, and he has a PhD also). His wife Doris (also incredibly smart, and finishing up her PhD right now I believe) made some refried beans and rice, with some tortillas, as well as a cauliflower (?) and cheese soup. She just made me some coffee, some café con leche, to drink as I type this. The speak English, but most conversation is with Chuck in Spanish, so I follow along as I can, picking out words here and there to get 20-30% of the gist of the conversation. It's real fun not knowing the language when you go into a restaurant and try to order from a menu that doesn't have any pictures. Basically, I'm just trying to find something that has some words that I recognize in it, and order that, hoping for the best. Maybe my Spanish will be better before I leave. I can already puzzle out most of the road signs.
The ride was a great time to talk with Chuck and get to know him, hitting on all the fun hot-button topics like politics and religion. Got a little past-history stuff from him as well, from back when he knew my parents before they were married. Tomorrow's going to be another early day - we'll be going to Yajalon for church, and also we'll be spending the next couple of days there, and in Chilon, which are both Tzeltal towns (Tzeltal is one of the indigenous languages, along with Tzotzil and Ch'ol, in this area).
I don't want to get too much into our plans until they happen, plus this is getting really long, so I'll end here for now. Just to post this (Ricardo has a fast connection), download my pictures, and try to get a good night's rest. Hasta Manana.
I'm Off
3/2/06
Well, it's a little after two in the afternoon, and I'm actually and finally on my way to Mexico. I really don't know what to expect, what I'll find, or what I'll do, but I'm on my way. As with all things, it's in God's hands.
I'm on the train at the moment, just left Martinez, CA, and am on my way to Bakersfield, where I'll meet up with Chuck. In the morning we're taking the bus to Los Angeles, where we'll take a plane down to Mexico City. We're going to spend the night there at a seminary, then drive something like 600 miles down to San Cristobal de las Casas. Then for the next two weeks we'll be going about, I'm not 100% sure what yet. I know for a couple of days we'll be meeting up with a team from Illinois that's coming down to build a retaining wall for a church that is kinds of slipping down its hillside. Couple fo the names of the places that I can remember as being on our list are La Ceyba and Simojovel. On the last day Chuck is going to do the tourist thing with me and take me to Palanque, which, I think, is a famous Mayan ruin site.
I don't really know what else to say at the moment. I'm discovering that typing on the train can be a little bit of a challenges as it rumbles over its tracks. I have five hours before I reach Bakersfield though…so I'm glad I have my computer. I am only able to bring two carry-ons, including my camera bag and computer stuff, so I had to pack somewhat creatively. Actually, I picked up a cheap duffle bag, put my camera pack in that, and was able to pack half my clothes around it. Between that and the small suitcase that I had, I was able to make it all work. I just sure hope Chuck was right when he said we'll be able to wash clothes somewhere, else I pity the person sitting next to me on the plane ride back.
Life in general - it's going pretty good. God's really blessed me with the work on campus - and I thank him for whoever the generous law school benefactor is. It's so nice being able to pay your bills without having to squeeze out every last penny to cover them all. Now if I was only able to do this full-time, I'd be sitting pretty, and would possible be able to swing a small mortgage. Not quite yet, but my goal at the moment is to be back in my own place by my birthday.
I'm happy for my friends, but sad that they're all going to be leaving. Andrew and Lynette both are accepted at at least one school now to get their PhDs. Where you get in and where you don't is so weird. For example, Anya just got rejected by…I think it was someplace in Texas, but she was accepted at Harvard and Yale. It's a weird world. At least Sale will still be around, but Stanford law is really working him over. IN a couple years I'll be calling all my friends "doctor." We'll maybe in a couple after that I'll be there as well. Who knows. Actually, I would be just as happy if I could just go directly in writing, and create a couple of best-sellers. I'd even settle for subsistence writing. It's like that joke, when the writer died…I'm forgetting the background, but the gist of it is that he was able to choose if he wanted to go to heaven or hell, and was able to preview each. First was hell, and in it, where he would go, it was a tiny room cramped full of people chained to a desk and forced to type all day. Heaven looked the same when he got his preview of it, and when he said, "Hey, what gives" to his guide, he said, "Oh yes, they're the same, but in heaven you get published." So yeah, I'd just like to get published. Bestseller wouldn't be bad though either.
Really, I don't know what these next few years will bring me in my life. Right now I'm just kind of focused on getting a job, paying of my bills and student loans, and if at all possible, getting a house. Even a tiny little one - just something to call my own, just something to get my foot in the door. Hopefully, in a couple years, I can go back to school. If I don't though, it's not the end of the world. I have plenty of smart friends that love me, and I don't need to prove anything. There are a lot of expectations and pressures though when you go to an Ivy League. That's not the expectation that I need to live up to though - the expectations that I need to live up to are God's. Still trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with my life that will serve Him. I have decided to get more involved in my church though. I'd been thinking that I was going to be moving pretty soon, so I'd avoided putting down much in the way of roots. Been kind of thinking about one of the things God's said to me though, and part of it was to step into my calling now, and I felt that part of that was to get more involved at church. So, I've started teaching Sunday school again (the "young professionals" [i,e, the 20-30 age group], which is a far cry from the 5-8 year old group I did the last time I taught Sunday school). I've also set up a blog site and e-mail group, which I'm still trying to get everyone used to using and contributing to. Setting up that stuff was easy, but teaching is a challenge, that's for sure. I've never really wanted to teach, like in a school, but I might need to at some point. I've always hated any kind of public speaking, but I've always tried to stretch myself. I guess that's why I do half of what I do. Anyway, the Sunday school thing is not a project that I'm doing by myself at all. Bruce and Dave had started a separate Sunday school for our age group at the end of last year, and I'd said I'd be willing to help out if he wanted. He did ask, once we got into this year, so…anyway, I'm trying, since I plan on staying in the area now, to really work on building the community that we have at church, as well as making it ready to grow. I've taught three times now, and will start up again the week after I get back from Mexico. Planning on working our way through Foster's "In Celebration of Discipline." I'm thinking about another book for after that, called, "Slaves, Women, and Homosexuals." It comes highly recommended by Glen, as it takes on all the hard issues directly. I really thin Sunday school should be more than just getting together and sharing what you think about something - it should be about learning, about growing, about being prepared to take on and live in the real world. I don't know what I can do, but I'm going to do whatever I can. Also, I'm planning on doing a half-day retreat when I get back - use the same format for the one I organized for Chi Alpha, and perhaps go up Mt. Diablo. Would love to do a beach trip, or an extended trip, but I want to start here. If possible, I'd really like to start up a once-a-month potluck kind of thing in our group. That's a little bit more difficult though, since I don't have my own place to start with and invite everyone to. We'll see if changing that is in God's plans for me though. For me to get any kind of place would be a real miracle, so really - if I get in someplace, it'll totally be God.
I'm thinking that pretty much covers what's going on with my life at the moment. I'm not going to put any of the "personal relationship" kind of stuff on the web - though, there's not really too much that I could say anyway. I don't know which would be a bigger miracle - finding a woman of getting a house. I guess it would have to go to finding the right woman - with enough time, money enough usually comes to get a house, whereas there are no guarantees when it comes to finding a wife. If I could have two miracles, personal miracles for myself, those would be them. I don't stress over it anymore though - what is, is, and what will be, will be. I'm trying to live in the now, because that's where I am. And right now, I'm on the train, bouncing along a track (you would think a flat rail would make for a smooth ride, but nooooooo), and I'm going to have a little late lunch, then sit back and watch a movie or something. Adios.
Well, it's a little after two in the afternoon, and I'm actually and finally on my way to Mexico. I really don't know what to expect, what I'll find, or what I'll do, but I'm on my way. As with all things, it's in God's hands.
I'm on the train at the moment, just left Martinez, CA, and am on my way to Bakersfield, where I'll meet up with Chuck. In the morning we're taking the bus to Los Angeles, where we'll take a plane down to Mexico City. We're going to spend the night there at a seminary, then drive something like 600 miles down to San Cristobal de las Casas. Then for the next two weeks we'll be going about, I'm not 100% sure what yet. I know for a couple of days we'll be meeting up with a team from Illinois that's coming down to build a retaining wall for a church that is kinds of slipping down its hillside. Couple fo the names of the places that I can remember as being on our list are La Ceyba and Simojovel. On the last day Chuck is going to do the tourist thing with me and take me to Palanque, which, I think, is a famous Mayan ruin site.
I don't really know what else to say at the moment. I'm discovering that typing on the train can be a little bit of a challenges as it rumbles over its tracks. I have five hours before I reach Bakersfield though…so I'm glad I have my computer. I am only able to bring two carry-ons, including my camera bag and computer stuff, so I had to pack somewhat creatively. Actually, I picked up a cheap duffle bag, put my camera pack in that, and was able to pack half my clothes around it. Between that and the small suitcase that I had, I was able to make it all work. I just sure hope Chuck was right when he said we'll be able to wash clothes somewhere, else I pity the person sitting next to me on the plane ride back.
Life in general - it's going pretty good. God's really blessed me with the work on campus - and I thank him for whoever the generous law school benefactor is. It's so nice being able to pay your bills without having to squeeze out every last penny to cover them all. Now if I was only able to do this full-time, I'd be sitting pretty, and would possible be able to swing a small mortgage. Not quite yet, but my goal at the moment is to be back in my own place by my birthday.
I'm happy for my friends, but sad that they're all going to be leaving. Andrew and Lynette both are accepted at at least one school now to get their PhDs. Where you get in and where you don't is so weird. For example, Anya just got rejected by…I think it was someplace in Texas, but she was accepted at Harvard and Yale. It's a weird world. At least Sale will still be around, but Stanford law is really working him over. IN a couple years I'll be calling all my friends "doctor." We'll maybe in a couple after that I'll be there as well. Who knows. Actually, I would be just as happy if I could just go directly in writing, and create a couple of best-sellers. I'd even settle for subsistence writing. It's like that joke, when the writer died…I'm forgetting the background, but the gist of it is that he was able to choose if he wanted to go to heaven or hell, and was able to preview each. First was hell, and in it, where he would go, it was a tiny room cramped full of people chained to a desk and forced to type all day. Heaven looked the same when he got his preview of it, and when he said, "Hey, what gives" to his guide, he said, "Oh yes, they're the same, but in heaven you get published." So yeah, I'd just like to get published. Bestseller wouldn't be bad though either.
Really, I don't know what these next few years will bring me in my life. Right now I'm just kind of focused on getting a job, paying of my bills and student loans, and if at all possible, getting a house. Even a tiny little one - just something to call my own, just something to get my foot in the door. Hopefully, in a couple years, I can go back to school. If I don't though, it's not the end of the world. I have plenty of smart friends that love me, and I don't need to prove anything. There are a lot of expectations and pressures though when you go to an Ivy League. That's not the expectation that I need to live up to though - the expectations that I need to live up to are God's. Still trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with my life that will serve Him. I have decided to get more involved in my church though. I'd been thinking that I was going to be moving pretty soon, so I'd avoided putting down much in the way of roots. Been kind of thinking about one of the things God's said to me though, and part of it was to step into my calling now, and I felt that part of that was to get more involved at church. So, I've started teaching Sunday school again (the "young professionals" [i,e, the 20-30 age group], which is a far cry from the 5-8 year old group I did the last time I taught Sunday school). I've also set up a blog site and e-mail group, which I'm still trying to get everyone used to using and contributing to. Setting up that stuff was easy, but teaching is a challenge, that's for sure. I've never really wanted to teach, like in a school, but I might need to at some point. I've always hated any kind of public speaking, but I've always tried to stretch myself. I guess that's why I do half of what I do. Anyway, the Sunday school thing is not a project that I'm doing by myself at all. Bruce and Dave had started a separate Sunday school for our age group at the end of last year, and I'd said I'd be willing to help out if he wanted. He did ask, once we got into this year, so…anyway, I'm trying, since I plan on staying in the area now, to really work on building the community that we have at church, as well as making it ready to grow. I've taught three times now, and will start up again the week after I get back from Mexico. Planning on working our way through Foster's "In Celebration of Discipline." I'm thinking about another book for after that, called, "Slaves, Women, and Homosexuals." It comes highly recommended by Glen, as it takes on all the hard issues directly. I really thin Sunday school should be more than just getting together and sharing what you think about something - it should be about learning, about growing, about being prepared to take on and live in the real world. I don't know what I can do, but I'm going to do whatever I can. Also, I'm planning on doing a half-day retreat when I get back - use the same format for the one I organized for Chi Alpha, and perhaps go up Mt. Diablo. Would love to do a beach trip, or an extended trip, but I want to start here. If possible, I'd really like to start up a once-a-month potluck kind of thing in our group. That's a little bit more difficult though, since I don't have my own place to start with and invite everyone to. We'll see if changing that is in God's plans for me though. For me to get any kind of place would be a real miracle, so really - if I get in someplace, it'll totally be God.
I'm thinking that pretty much covers what's going on with my life at the moment. I'm not going to put any of the "personal relationship" kind of stuff on the web - though, there's not really too much that I could say anyway. I don't know which would be a bigger miracle - finding a woman of getting a house. I guess it would have to go to finding the right woman - with enough time, money enough usually comes to get a house, whereas there are no guarantees when it comes to finding a wife. If I could have two miracles, personal miracles for myself, those would be them. I don't stress over it anymore though - what is, is, and what will be, will be. I'm trying to live in the now, because that's where I am. And right now, I'm on the train, bouncing along a track (you would think a flat rail would make for a smooth ride, but nooooooo), and I'm going to have a little late lunch, then sit back and watch a movie or something. Adios.
