Shopping Trip

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I went to the grocery store yesterday. A little bit more money than usual had come in and I had $500 pesos to spend anyway I wanted to on supplies. Its called El Mendado here, the weeks supply of groceries, when you can afford that much, or the days supply when that is how you live. That’s where most of peoples paychecks here in Mexico go to, food. It had been a while since I shopped in a store of any size, this one being not one of those that is a threat to mind and body upon entering, but a medium one. Calimax, there is a chain of them here. This one is right off tourist row downtown, but they stay to their own street, so very few adventurers come in. I skipped the fruit and vegetable section right off, since I buy fresh from the Indian vendors who set up on the street corners in my village. Then on to the dairy section. I picked out some milk, since the carton was almost empty at home. No cheese because I buy goat cheese from a neighbor. I checked out the yogurt, but the flavors sounded scary and there was no plain. I didn’t get any sour cream, which I use on vegetables instead of butter because I already had one I got from the little market a quarter block down from me. It has one aisle and a big refrigerator, unlike some of the smaller stores here where you stand at the window and point what you want. Then on to paper supplies. I picked out colored napkins, that was a treat, I don’t use paper towels but I found a new bright green sponge. And then on into the canned food section. I put four cans of beans in the cart, then took out two, how many can beans can you use when your use to making your own. Noticing that I was a good deal of the way thru the store and had hardly anything I went up and down this aisle again. I found canned whole tomatoes that I could use in case the tomatoes were to ripe from the vendor and I did not want to buy them, I could still make what I was going to. There was such a variety of salsas I finally decided on three, one for the bottle and the buffalo on the label, the other because it was so inexpensive and the third because it was what I used anyway. I didn’t bother with the bread, tortilla and cereal row. Cereal always reminds me of cow feed and I don’t like it. I prefer fresh fruit and bakery products. I go almost every evening to the bakery right down the hill from me to buy hot rolls, whatever is just out of the oven, and fresh milk. And every morning an old man pushes a wheelbarrow by with fresh tortillas, so no need to leave the house for them. This being a modern store it had its meats already cut and packaged on display. I dislike this type of meat and distrust where it came from. I go to a meat market where they raise the meat themselves and you just tell them how much you want. And the rest of the time I buy fish down at the harbor or the fishermen on their way home. Then I went thru the store one more time, just because I was there and thought I might as well make the most of it. I bought a brand of soap I never used before, it was on sale in little buckets. Buckets are useful. A jar of mayonnaise, although I had not run out yet and some mustard, which I have not had in years. Not sure what I will use it for, it makes me think of hot dogs. At the check out stand I received about three fourths of my money back. So still feeling rich I tipped the old man sacking groceries well and the old man guarding the parking lot. That was nice. Maybe if I don’t go broke before then I will have the leftover money still to use next time I want to do a shopping at the big store. It could last a long time this way.

Animal Shows

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I went to the dog show yesterday. They are still quite rare here. It was put on by Aquas Caliente, the famous dog race track here in Tijuana. It and all the other casinos are owned by Hank Rhon, the mayor of Tijuana. He is an animal lover. His office is filled with animals, parrots and monkeys, dogs, big cats. And at his race track he keeps enough animals to be called a private zoo. Lots of them are gifts and rescues. There are hundreds of sheds and stables and barns. But its not set up like a zoo, its all very casual and you have to explore around to discover all the types. I was noticing how just common chain link fence is used to keep in the lions and tigers, I thought it took more than that. My husband and the worker and I were walking between two rows of cats that seemed to be mostly sleeping. Then half way down we came to a cage where one leaped up and charged the fence and hit it with his paw. Suddenly the next cage four tigers crouched and acted like they were creeping up on my dog, staring at her. All three of us ran back down the narrow dirt path and far from those cats, terrified. But my dog was never scared, I suppose because its in her heritage to hunt jaguars. She got her championship papers this time around, next she will go for grand champion. I have always had strong feelings of revulsion for "beauty contests" and a heavy dislike of dog clubs until I moved to Mexico and learned to see another side of this part of the dog world. Not that I have changed my mind on the American version, I still compare it to Hitler and his master race. The fact is, breeding weaknesses into dogs in order to maintain certain looks is a crime against nature. And of course America has taken this love of dogs and wanting to maintain them and taken it to far, so far that it is a menace more than anything else. But here in Mexico, all this is brand new, this pride in a dog and realizing its worth. I support these shows in every way I can. It is a civilizing factor for a people to learn to respect animals. When a person can care about the suffering of an animal it makes them so much more aware of the suffering of mankind. It develops a side to a person that enables them to look beyond themselves. When I first moved here to this part of Mexico there was no dog food. Most dogs were just fed tortillas and scraps and left to fend for themselves. Now, over 25 years later all the markets sell dog food. Even the little ones in handfuls in a plastic sack. There use to be one vet only, he was very old fashion, now there is a dozen or more really good vets and a vet hospital. It makes a child different growing up being good to animals, instead of immune to their sufferings, or causing it. I think this is a really important thing and that is why I have always worked with people and their animals and am in that field now. Being in touch with animals opens the mind and leads to a better life. It has been very satisfactory seeing these improvements here.

News from Venezuela

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The post below is from a relative, just back from Venezuela. It shows a side of this country not often seen.

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Venezuela is so relaxed. When was the last time you EVER thought you could relax around cops?! The Venezuelan military [all over the place] are young men and women from the barrios who operate like the Peoples Liberation Army did in China in the 1950's, 60's, 70's. They talk to people, help people carry their groceries; place telephone calls for you if you look the slightest bit confused. They are the ones who went and got President Chavez when the right wing kidnapped him from the presidential palace. The army parachuted onto the island off the north coast of Venezuela where he was being held. Now this is impressive. They had to go get the plane, etc, etc.
We traveled around in the interior of Venezuela for two weeks, on a bus, stopping at places our guides chose, lived in. The communes we visited were cooperative villages that are now self sufficient, completely, and they make things for Cuba, other nations and give quantities away. Cuba sent 20,000 doctors and Venezuela is just seeing their first graduating class of doctors coming home from Cuba.
We heard 7 women speak about their group of 14 who one day went and took over a middle class medical clinic, with machetes! They went in and told the rich doctors to leave. Loud but productive conversation. And THEN they phoned the military for back up..
We went to a chocolate collective. Same family that has farmed this land [42 hectares] for 350 years. It was a slave colony originally. What beautiful Black people, just awesome. They speak English, French, Spanish and Portuguese, and Creole. We saw cattle that were a cross between local mountain stock and French Brahama cattle; very hardy; very good looking; docile and well adapted to hot climes.
All the dogs look the same; wild type. Hogs, chickens, etc, have all been improved for high yield. The farms have small lakes that supply water everywhere. Can't make big lakes [but there is a huge one in central Venezuela] because the hard rains wash everything. It has the highest rainfall in the western hemisphere
Oil: Venezuela is building a pipeline from their oil fields/refineries, to Buenas Aries. The oil will be exchanged for other products; no even exchange expected.
When Haiti recently inaugurated Rene Preval as President, a tanker of Venezuelan oil, which had pulled into their harbor the day before, was unloaded. The Haitians don't have to make any payments for 2 yrs., then they have 25 years to pay for it, at 1% interest. that's a gift.
We visited a factory, really a commune, where shoes and farming clothes were being manufactured. We saw 10,000 boxes of work shoes ready to be sent to Cuba. Venezuelan people have health care in their neighborhoods. Every few blocks there is a brick round house, with a visiting room on the first floor and above is where the Cuban doctor lives. He is on call at all times; does workshops every day about preventative medicine.
I saw maybe 10 old people during the whole trip, other than the bunch of oldsters who were part of the tour. Dengue fever, yellow fever, cholera, malaria and those are just the ones I know about. Not a place I could live, I don't think. But the Venezuelan people we saw, in many towns, were healthy, not over weight and hard workers. The teenagers were awesome: attentive, helpful, hard workers, proud of their lives.
Venezuela makes their own trucks, buses, motorcycles, bicycles, all motor driven things.
Oil: Venezuela is cleaning up that huge lake in the interior, that the oil companies from outside, for years, had just dumped in. The govt. is lifting huge barges that just sank when they couldn't travel anymore; finding barrel graveyards and bringing these things to the surface; filtering escaping oil eddies, blown by the wind.
We were there when the World Social Forum was happening. Went to a workshop, featuring about 15 speakers over a few hours, giving views on how to build examples for extracting and refining oil in an environmentally considerate way. It's not new science; the govts. just have to make the effort.

I´ll Never Return

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"I'll Never Return"

By Meena (1957-1987)

founding leader of

Revolutionary Association

of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA)

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I'm the woman who has awokenI've arisen and become a tempest through the ashes of my burnt children

I've arisen from the rivulets of my brother's bloodMy nation's wrath has empowered me

My ruined and burnt villages fill me with hatred against the enemy,

I'm the woman who has awoken,

I've found my path and will never return.

I've opened closed doors of ignorance

I've said farewell to all golden bracelets

Oh compatriot, I'm not what I was

I'm the woman who has awoken

I've found my path and will never return.

I've seen barefoot, wandering and homeless childrenI've seen henna-handed brides with mourning clothes

I've seen giant walls of the prisons swallow freedom in their ravenous stomach

I've been reborn amidst epics of resistance and courage

I've learned the song of freedom in the last breaths, in the waves of blood and in victory

Oh compatriot, Oh brother, no longer regard me as weak and incapable

With all my strength I'm with you on the path of my land's liberation.

My voice has mingled with thousands of arisen women

My fists are clenched with the fists of thousands compatriots

Along with you I've stepped up to the path of my nation,

To break all these sufferings all these fetters of slavery, Oh compatriot,

Oh brother, I'm not what I was

I'm the woman who has awoken

I've found my path and will never return.

Keeping it in mind

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Sometimes I feel it slipping. My hatred of America, my horror of it and my disgust. Here in a country where life is good, freedom is real and principals still count it is easy to forget the corruption that is right up there just north of my border. The border is a festering scar, but better a separation from America and its creeping ways, then wide open to their total abuse. Open it for work, but don't jeopardize the Americanization of this country, what has rubbed off already is destructive enough. But this is not my life, I don't live this, this view of America and its underhanded murdering ways must be searched out. They try to hide their dirty truths behind words of brainwash and glory to their gods but if you watch a little, add it up, its real apparent. But why should I care, my life is good, I live good, and where I live is good. Is it because I was born in America and am angry at my own people, or perhaps because an evil of that scale overpowers the whole world and is a threat to all. Reasons can be so many.
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I feel hating America is something all caring people should do. Hate evil, what else is that emotion for but to cause an abhorrence. To think that hate means killing, revenge, acts of destruction is wrong. One can hate calmly and cleanly and deeply and do nothing more than feel it and voice it. It is a force that is in humans to use and to be told we are not allowed to weakens us. So does turning the other cheek.. America should be hated, and that force, like love when it is used right, will build and overwhelm if let be. Hate without evilness. If we do less than this for a country that is murdering people daily for their own money driven agenda than we are part of that evil.
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So as easy as it would be to just slip into the goodness in life I must retain a part of myself, to give my hate to America or I have failed to take a stand. I think about it now, that land that has warred, murdered, raped and destroyed for what it has, never changing, always evolving into something worse. My constant hope, may it do itself in with its excesses and let the world move on.

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"So many gods, so many creeds,so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs".

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox, American poet, 1896

The Event

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Sunday I went to an event here, east of where I am, inland in the valley of Gaudalupe. It is known as the wine country now. Dia Del Caballo , horses, art and wine. A great combination in beautiful surroundings. A big ranch in the middle of grape vineyards out in the middle of nowhere. Two thousand people showed up. Even tourist bus loads. And they all came down the miles of narrow bumpy dirt roads and had to follow the map of all the turns till they finally got there. I'm not use to crowds so the noise that many people make surprised me. We were under Arabian style tents, maybe they hold the sound in. My booth this time had my puppies in a big pen with hay, they looked so good. I felt sort of overwhelmed by all the people wanting to look at them and waiting in line to get information on them. I even sold one of my book to an elderly German couple who did not speak English very well. When I wrote the book, it was my first, a practice one and I based it on my own life, because that seemed easy enough. But now I must tell people when they ask what it is about that it is about my life, not just a story. Sort of an exposed feeling, but I can't think of anything else to say. I still can't get use to the part they want me to sign it, it never really comes to me as what to say.
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One of the best parts about the event was the way the Mexicans were dressed. This was an event for rich people as it cost $20 to just get in. Women's cowboy boots come in so many styles, and so do their hats. And the men had on shirts with horses and ranch scenes and pearl buttons and huge, really huge, belt buckles. The children too, all decked out like modern day cowboys. Then there was the Indians in comparison who looked like they rode in right out of history. The performers on the horses had on traditional outfits, the big sombreros and spurs, pants with silver buttons down the legs. Flamenco dancers in so many colors and their hair done up in combs and shoes with taps. There must have been five hundred tables spread out all over with people drinking wine and eating all kinds of food cooked up there from all the food booths. Drinking but no drunks.
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This event was to benefit the children here with downs syndrome and I donated part of my puppy sales to them, so this felt good too. These children came and looked at my puppies and I let them hold them and have their photos taken with them. It was strange to see how they took to each other.
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Such a positive day with so many beautiful sights, even nature put on her display of such perfect early summer weather. My husband and my sixteen years old worker and his two eleven and twelve years old brothers were with me. It was very wonderful to be able to witness this and being part of it we were there from early morning to sunset and did not miss a thing. I even got to seem my friends the Indians, down from the hills selling their baskets and artwork, and that is very special to see them always.

Viva Mexico, life is so good here.

My Nightmare

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My sixteen years old worker brought a movie tape to me yesterday to watch. My husband gave him a video machine for Christmas and he and the neighbors trade off tapes all over the neighborhood. This particular one he said is very popular. The Day After Tomorrow, I think that is what it was called. The tidal wave over New York looked very real and I admit it was exciting seeing the statue of liberty drowning but the best part, and the reason to be watching it, is when all the evacuated Americans make a run for the Mexican Border. This few minutes was an attention getter here. Hoards of pushing shoving rude Americans demanding entrance into Mexico as their own country failed them. Ever since Americas nine eleven day I have had this fear, this mental picture of that very thing. Even dreams about it. They would be coming here by the thousands, for one reason or another. Seeing it on a Hollywood film was very visual. And then nature herself added to it by being a heavy cloud cover day here and so very unusually cold and then an unexpected storm in the night. Wind and rain from all directions, very violent and mixed right in with my dreams. The thought of America come this way in a panic is a very bad thought because I live only 75 miles from the border. Americans don't like to hear no for an answer and feel those who have less than them have less rights so I know how they would be acting. Sometimes Hollywood predicts future truths just by following where things will likely lead. I sure hope this time it never comes true. All those Americans, so many of them, living out what they helped to cause. I'm glad I don't watch movies hardly ever and sleep better because of it. Even though moving a lot further south might be better, you never know.

Adaptable

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Being an American in Mexico makes for a life where you are always aware of the fact that you are different. Even in the midst of discovering how alike your are. Eventually one becomes not really an American, but not a Mexican either. Drifting in a rather free spot somewhere in between. Between cultures. It is a good place, if your not looking for confines. It is good to shed what is not really you, but just a nationality, leave it behind. I think I would always choose to live where I was different, its very good.

It is true that I am like most of my neighbors, just trying to live day by day. Unlike almost every single American here, my husband nor I bring in American money thru some American source that is sent to us. Americans don’t come here to work, not unless they are high up in some company with a very American wage and a very American place to live. In the 26 years I have lived here, we have had to work for our living. This has been the great experience, hard but what made Mexico open up. Living it as the people do, the daily struggle for existence, the challenge to make it. On the inside and competing.


Being close to the edge lets you look at life closely too, there are few disguises and smoke screens. One of the better ways to make a living in Mexico, as many do, is to have many ways to do it, flexible. One can really be creative and free this way, doing what can be done at the time. It is important how we make our money, since most of us seem to have to take a lot of our time to do that. This process, making a living, should stem from what you do in life anyway enhanced to the point where it makes profit. One needs to like what they do or they are compromised. Money made from regretted effort can spoil that which it touches.


It is good to live in a country where one is free to be poor and free to enjoy it and free to choose what they like best to survive and free to be not one thing or the other. So much space.

Blogging

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My mind keeps wandering back over a post written on a blog I enjoy reading. Its about writing blogs and contact. There is such a difference in presenting oneself to people between here in cyberspace, or face to face in many ways. All we have is our thoughts, flowing down from our minds sorted into the order of our words methodically typed out on a screen to send off. But that process perhaps distills a clear stream for many. Whoever we write as, here in cyberspace must be one of ourselves, so then much is according to how divided we are. Some fool themselves thinking they are doing it to fool their public. Which is more real, that within, or that without when you are looking at yourself? Talking in person with people supports so much more complications to hit on reality and not get side tracked. Here we are communicating more to ourselves than anyone else, the audience becomes vague in the effort. It can be very personal with no one to face, no personality in front of us to bounce the words off of and watch and listen to responses and judge opinions. We can just sort of rattle loose inside ourselves. Provided we look inward, but some only see what others might see of them, the cover, and they work on that. But for many, the cover is all they are, so this is true too, the act.
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And as to knowing people here, we can know them, if we are selective. But like anywhere, if we collect them up and try to put people where we need and want them, it will be disaster. This space should be an extra one, to further oneself, not a means to fill a hole that has always gapped. Peoples essence comes through, you can feel them, and if you don’t let your needs get in the way, you can tell who they are. But like in life, friendship is rare and a gift when it does come, internet or not. If a person is honest with themselves it comes through anywhere. Writing on blogs makes another extension of ourselves and we can make that as meaningful or not, as we desire. Its all according to what you want to fill your life with.

Bad Man

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Put a Stake

Through Freud's Heart

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Asia Times Article. I like this article on Freud. It holds many of the same opinions I have of him, so naturally I like it. I never can understand in a world were enlightenment is available how the majority of people sway towards someone as off balance as this man was, and still is. The mans mind was twisted and he made a lifestyle of it, a way to see the world. Sex and drugs sell though, so this could be a reason for his popularity. People tend to stray away from thoughts that one should guide oneself and that the power comes from within, not from who you follow. What if we were not followers but found our own paths and realized our own truths. There would be more room for harmony because real truths are simple and the natural conclusion to come too. So many false leaders and people hanging on their distorted words, trying to force them on what they do not fit till all is obscured. How can we live right if mankind allows themselves these views of men who could not even solve their own problems and became obsessed with them and passed that obsession on. I am glad to see such a fine article detailing the crimes against balance of this man and his followers. I hope many that should, read it

The Book Event

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I took my book to the American book fair Saturday. It was a book signing for the authors who live in my area and write of Mexico. I am trying to sort out what to think of the whole thing. Beautiful resort right on the ocean and lots of plants and flowers, exotic. A nice place to launch my book, along with the cyber world. An American event, and I noticed that alcohol was a major theme. A full bar, wine tasting booths and in the evening tequila tasting. I don’t drink. I could tell they were getting very tipsy towards the end when I left early, loud and friendly and they have an odd way of making jokes right off and your suppose to respond in kind. Which I never learned how too. It was my first full on gringo even in 25 years here, so it was kind of like culture shock. I observed them.
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My husband has many ways of making money here in a country that is hard to make money in. Unlike most Americans, we must make our living here, no other money. If one business is lagging usually one is doing ok. So my book booth was more then just my book. It is also an information booth on these and our friends businesses. What was interesting as we passed out this information in an attempt to attract new customers, I was selling them a book that will offend them most likely. A little to much talking bad about Americans, although its very mild. Courting them while bashing them. It should be interesting to see how they react. The worst they can do is not give us our business, and who cares, it's just money.
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I had to sign the books that were sold, I had no idea what to say, so I simply said, enjoy and signed my name. I think I should have dated it, but did not think of that until today.
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I have noticed this before. These Americans are Animal Lovers and into animal rights. It seems like all of them are, like a fad. They worry over the street dogs and the worse the condition the more they get into the description and the disgust. They take great pride in finding these dogs and healing them. They form organizations and clubs. It sort of has a religious feel to it, their belief in it making them better people, like atoning for some American sin. Killing people in Iraq and saving dogs in Mexico, such an odd people. They don’t do that much for their own homeless on the streets. Some dogs just don’t have it so good, that’s a fact.
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But back to book, it was good to sell it, that’s what I wrote it for, to help make a living here. Next book though, I don't think I will hold back and just tell the more digestible stories, there are much deeper truths to reveal.

Prison of Nationalism

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It is hard to tell where one leaves off what they left behind and becomes not that. I feel my roots, they can't be transferred even if my mind and body are elsewhere.

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Schooling, it clings. Held captive. Threats on parents you must have your child there, or else. Everyone must get brainwashed, no child left with a clean mind. It is more of a process of unteaching what you naturally learn, than teaching what you need to learn. Hard experience to shake off.

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Left when I was seventeen. I loved the orient, I saw life is whats around you, and that’s so changeable. A few visits and stays back where I had left served to remind me it was not real. False life, empty lies of America. Then Mexico, 25 years now. So good. But I'm still me, but that is good too. But all of it is me, so I am American, in parts. It is sort of like a crime, but sort of like a victory, to overcome it. A lifetime of seperating it. Can one escape oneself?

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I confess to being a proud example of what I am not. I have been thinking all this week, so full of boycotts and demonstrations, of what it means. This singling out, pushing down, putting aside, of one type over another. After all, we are just all people, so what.