Blood and Internet

My streak of bad luck continued this morning when I was running for the bus.  I was just approaching the bus when I stepped on a piece of gnarly plastic that punctured the sole of my sandal (which doesn’t take much) and embedded itself into my foot.  Yes, I’m sure it was plastic and not a piece of rusted metal, and yes, I’m up to date with my tetanus shot.  When I discovered I was bleeding on the bus, I took out the only absorbent item I had, a panty liner, ripped it in half, and put it in my sandal catch the blood.  Once at school I rinsed the laceration with bottled water and put the other half of the panty liner in my sandal.  I cleaned it out again once I arrived home and put some antibacterial cream and an actual band aid over the cut.  If it’s not looking and feeling better in a day or two I’ll go see the nurse at school. 

HOWEVER, the guys from Cablecom actually came to install my Internet when they were scheduled to appear!  I almost forgot I was in Mexico!  They were the same guys who installed the internet in two of the other teacher’s places in my apartment complex.  One of them spoke a little bit of English—probably about the same amount of Spanish as I can speak, so we talked a little bit about Querétaro, where I was from, how old we were, weather—typical HS Spanish topics.  So I’m currently enjoying video steaming with consistent Internet and I’m excited to actually Skype with video too!  DEBTET!

Hunting for a Church

This morning I attended Unidad Cristiana—affiliated with CFN Fellowship of Ministries and Churches.  I heard there was a church across the street from Walmart (about a 10 minute walk from my apartment) from Maribel, the Human Resources gal, but I didn’t get up the nerve to wander over there until this morning.  My friend Valeria sent me an email with information on the church because she knew I was looking for a Christian church.  Because I wanted to sleep in this morning, I decided to go to the 11:30am service over the 8am.  Being the punctual person I am, I showed up 10 minutes before the service started (note to self: TIM so I don’t need to be early anywhere outside of school).  I was immediately greeted at the front entrance by a nice lady who (I think) asked if it was my first time here; I told her I didn’t speak much Spanish, and she said welcome and waved me toward the main room with the stage and chairs.  The main room seats upwards of 800 people (my best guess) including the small balcony above where I sat.  The room was pretty bare, but by 11:50, the place was packed.

I didn’t understand most of what the worship leader said, but I was able to decipher much of the songs that we sang.  One of the songs was “Lord I Give You My Heart” in Spanish, so I was able to sing along in English and then follow along in Spanish.  I truly believe that the Holy Spirit is able to communicate our hearts to God, even if it’s in a language we don’t know.  While I didn’t comprehend all of the words I was singing, I understood that I was singing praise to God, and that’s all that matters.  What a joy to be able to worship my Father in a different language, in a different part of the world.  God is alive in Mexico!

 

The sermon was even more difficult to understand.  All I was able to glean from the hour long message was that our relationship with God can be hindered by our heart and that we need to examine our hearts.  I’m sure there was more than that, but that’s all my limited knowledge of Spanish could pick up today.  I don’t do well sitting for that long either—I wasn’t expecting a 2 hour service.  What helped me get through the service was knowing I had nothing else really important happening today, and that it was a blessing to be with others who love Jesus.

 

I don’t know if this will become my home church while I’m here in Querétaro, but God has led me here for now, and it’s only a 10 minute walk from my apartment.  Dios es bueno todo el tiempo! (That’s the Spanish translation for Carla’s GIGATT!)  And thanks for the recommendation, Val! 

It's all about the Students

Students are the reason I teach.  All the planning, all the meetings, all the difficulties in this profession seem to wane once the kids show up. 

I have 104 rambunctious, polite, and eager students that I get to see every day for 45 minutes each class.  I teach four classes of 26 students each, and that time just flies by!  Being used to 90 minute block classes where I see the students every other day, this change in time requires some calibration in my teaching strategies, but I think I like it.  Every day my schedule is different.  These students have 11 classes in their schedule; some they see every day, some they see a few times a week.  They receive instruction in English for Science, Social Studies, Language Arts/English, and Music.  They receive instruction in Spanish for History of Mexico, Civics, Geography, Math, Spanish, PE, and Art.  I don’t know how the students keep track of their schedules, but they do!  In addition to the 11 classes, students also have an Optitiva (Elective) the last period of the day on Thursdays.  I get to teach the kids how to play Ultimate Frisbee for my Optitiva.  Originally, the principal wanted me to run a book club, but when she heard I knew how to play Ultimate, she told me I could do that and they’d just get rid of the book club.  SCORE! 

Like all 6th graders, one of the biggest difficulties so far has been opening lockers.  Despite being given directions in Spanish and English, being shown multiple times, and being given visual aids, some students still cannot open their lockers.  But this is one of the many reasons I love 6th graders.  At the beginning of the year, I always wonder if these kids will ever be successful.  Everything is a struggle, and they seem so young and incapable of accomplishing everything I set before them, but they eventually figure it out.  I think that 6th graders show the most growth in middle school in terms of social/emotional growth.  Given enough scaffolding, these kids become more independent and capable of success on their own.

Female teachers go by their first names here, so I am “Miss Kari”.  This isn’t a sign of disrespect, it’s just how teachers are addressed here.  Every once in a while I refer to myself as Ms. Kiser—that’s who I’ve been for the past five years.  It will take a while for me to adjust.  I will say it’s pretty darn cute when the kids say my name though.  Because of Spanish pronunciation, my name sounds like “Mees Car-ee”, or sometimes they call me “Tea-chair” if they have forgotten my name.  Out in the halls, students greet me all the time.  Some have already taken to giving me hugs—another adjustment I’m going to have to make, it’s ok to hug the kids.  It’s going to take me a while to get all of their names, yet I have all the American/Canadian kids’ names memorized.  I suppose it helps that there’s only three of them in all of 6th grade… 

I’m excited to see how this year is going to progress.  I definitely still need your prayers and encouragements, and because of those I’m feeling better about my time here.  Thank you!

Bare Necessities

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.  Thomas Haynes Bayly may have made this phrase popular, but I associate a different meaning to this old cliché than distant relationships with people.  I’m referring to the simple bare necessities of life such as running water, a healthy stomach, and unlocking doors.  Now that these things have resumed their normal positions in my life, I can merrily sing along with Baloo.      

One of the neat things about my new school is that every student has a mentor teacher for the year (hopefully all three years if the teacher stays).  I will have 13 kids that I get to meet with outside of class to get to know on a deeper level.  Some teachers may look at this as another task to complete, but I look at this as an opportunity to invest in students’ lives beyond just my subject area. 

We had a training session for being a mentor, and we got to role-play with puppets!  The puppet I chose was a dog/ferret type creature and the problem I drew (I was the mentee) was that I liked a boy but didn’t know how to talk to him.  My “mentor” (Valeria) chose a witch puppet and her problem was that she liked to hug and hang on the mentee (which in moderation is perfectly good here).  The fact that Val’s puppet was a witch was that much more disturbing!  It was hilarious!

Classes start tomorrow and I get to meet my kids.  From my limited encounters with them earlier this week, I’m really looking forward to getting to know these students.

And I'm Locked Out

So it turns out someone in my complex turned my water off.  I don’t know if the water bill is all connected or what, but my theory is that someone thought I was flushing the water too much and decided to turn it off to save him/herself some money.  I’m sorry that my case of Montezuma’s Revenge inconvenienced your water bill, whoever you are...

Water problem fixed.  Getting into my apartment to use the water, problem.  My top lock doesn’t work from the outside, which hasn’t caused me any problems because I can’t lock it from the outside.  Somehow the maintenance guy who came to fix my water managed to LOCK THE DOOR FROM THE OUTSIDE!!!  I tried calling all of the numbers I was told to call in case of a problem and no one answered.  Jo emailed a few people hoping they would check their email and call me.  Finally I got a text and a call telling me that the maintenance guy would be back to fix the lock.  He ended up going to my next door neighbors' and crawling onto their roof and over to my patio and unlocked the door from the inside.  He then proceeded to take the lock apart, mess with it a bit, and then put it back together in the door—this took him 20 minutes and didn’t change a thing.  Then he explained to me in Spanish that the lock only worked from the inside of the door.  Really?!  I could have told him that (well, not in Spanish)!!!

Trying to focus on the positive, at least my cell phone was working so that I could call the half a dozen people I did tonight.  My dad has an acronym that he uses to explain the happenings in Africa; I’m going to steal it and change it to TIM—This is Mexico. 

I hope that I’ll be able to laugh about this later to make up for all the crying I’m doing now…

Fútbol, Heartaches, and Agua

Saturday afternoon I attended my first live fútbol game.  Man, do these people love the game or what?!  Outside of the stadium people scurried around, trying to buy tickets from the booth or from anyone who had extras.  Just before entering the stadium I found several booths lined up selling Gallos’ (Querétaro’s team) jerseys.  I had to pass through three security checkpoints just to get into the stadium.  Once there, I joined the other international teachers in the fenced in Gallos section—cheers and songs rooting the team on welcomed me to my seat.  The group I was with sat in the section framed in by fencing and barbed wire.  Polícia surrounded the field, in complete combat gear with shield.  I didn’t have to ask anyone why—Mexico is famous for its fan fights.  I enjoyed the atmosphere, and the cheers.  Val, a National teacher at my school, explained that one of the cheers was “Roosters with balls”; everyone in our section who knew the cheer was singing it, even the little kids.  Whenever the crowd was upset, they would throw their 32 oz cups of beer into the rest of the crowd—I only got a little sprinkle at the end of the game.  Gallos ended up losing 1-2.  Over-zealous fans combined with cheap alcohol did not end well.  After the game, a few fights broke out in the stadium, but the worst of it was outside.  We ended up running for our car because the Polícia and some drunk teenagers were throwing rocks at each.  One of the teachers who wasn’t with my immediate group took video footage and posted it online:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oWeWAFaW6o

After the game we went to Sarah’s apartment (same girl who gave me the pills), then to another girl’s place to have a drink before going downtown for dinner.  My drink was a coca-cola.  We wandered around down town, and again I was struck by the two extremes in Querétaro:  poor vs. rich.  The streets are lined with beggars and cripples, especially outside of the churches, and people pass by them without even a second thought, bent on spending their money on food, drink, and entertainment.  Even sitting down at an outdoor restaurant, children come by trying to sell little trinkets, or beg for money for their blind mother.  My heart breaks for these people, and I know that giving them money will not fix their problems.  All I can do is pray for them as I pass by.  I’m sure I will get more used to this contrast, but I hope that I don’t become desensitized.

This morning I managed to drop my clothes off at a Lavandería, or Laundromat where they wash and dry it for you, procure a 20L garrafón of water and haul it back to my apartment.  The ladies at the lavandería were nice and told me I could pick up my clothes after 7pm tonight or tomorrow any time after 8pm.  I told them tomorrow, they gave me a receipt stating it would be $59 pesos for about 5 kilos (about $4.75 US for about 11lbs); I thanked them and went to see about water.  The old gentleman at the little shop was very nice and patient with my limited Spanish.  I said, “Hablo un poquito español” (I speak a little Spanish), and he replied, with a big smile, “Perfecto!”  I was able to tell him I wanted water but I didn’t have a jug to trade.  He told me I would have to pay $77 pesos ($22 pesos for the full jug of water and then I had to pay for an empty one since I didn’t have one to trade, which was $35).  The shop was only about two blocks from my apartment, so it wasn’t too difficult.  

This evening I get to meet my 6^th graders and help with team-building activities, opening lockers, and building Sundays!  I’ll let you know how that turns out!

As always, thank you for your prayers and encouragements—they mean a lot to me!

Got Water?

(*Disclaimer: I still intend to inform you all of my harrowing experience of transporting 20L of water back to my apartment, but due to the development of TD (Traveler’s Diarrhea) this past week, I have not yet attempted this feat.)

My “Word of the Day” app on iGoogle details “odoriferous” as today’s word.  Is this a coincidence???

I’ve gotten into the habit of showering every other day for water conservation and because I’m lazy.  So Thursday was my shower day, and Saturday was going to be next.  I spent Saturday morning resting and reading one of the books I’m going to be teaching, oh and running to the bathroom every so often with a case of TD.  Once I finished the book I went to take a shower; turning the knobs produced nothing but some strange noises in the wall.  I tried flushing the toilet and running the faucets in the other two sinks, but nothing.  I texted the person I’m supposed to contact about such things, but it is now Sunday morning, my apartment smells like urine and fecal matter, and I still have not heard back from her.  One of the other female teachers who lives in my apartment complex, Jo, graciously offered the use of her shower this morning.  But while I am now clean, my apartment is still odoriferous.  The combination of no running water and TD is NOT an ideal one.  And trying to manually flush my toilet did not result in the end effect I would have wished… I ended up using most of my remaining drinking water and only managed to wash half of the contents down the hole…

On a brighter note, Sarah (teaching 6^th grade Science at JFK and one year veteran of the school) gave me some pills last night to help with my inner plumbing, and I’m feeling great today!  AND the bank card the school set up is finally working!  

While I may not feel like I can handle all of the difficulties that have been thrown my way, God has been gracious in only giving me a few problems at a time.  Do I still freak out and cry?  Yes.  But I know that I am not alone in this adventure, and all these minor discomforts make for great anecdotes for others to enjoy!  

Spanish, Fire, and EXTREME POWERPOINT!!!

Alabado sea Dios!  Today was a much better day!  I started the day in Philippians 4 where it talks about being full of joy and not worrying about things but praying about everything.  It’s not really about what happens during the day but my attitude and reaction.  By starting my day in the Word and placing my focus on God, I was able to see clearly His mini miracles.  My cell phone works now!  I don’t know why it decided to let me call out, but I can.  I only have four 50 minute classes and three 50 minute free periods a day (except Thursday when I get to play/teach Ultimate Frisbee for “optitivas” or electives), whereas some teachers only have one or two free periods a couple times a week.  Some of the international teachers live further away from shopping centers than I do.  I am really quite blessed with my location, what I’m teaching, and how God has provided thus far.

And because I was in a better mood, I found today’s training especially amusing… Claudio (the head of safety in the MS) put together a PowerPoint presentation for the Fire Extinguisher training today.  He was not actually giving the presentation—another guy was.  To paint a portrait with words of Claudio, think of the SNL “Two Wild and Crazy Guys” skit—slicked back hair, starched shirt, fashionable pants (yesterday they were very shiny), and he thinks he’s all that—I hope you get the picture.  So this PowerPoint, just like all his others, is an EXTREME POWERPOINT (just for you, Mary!).  All of the words are animated, all of the pictures are animated, all of the arrows pointing to the pictures are animated, and the best part is that the slides didn’t really amalgamate with what the other guy was talking about (from what I could understand!).  They did have a translator today, but she kind of forgot to translate what the presenter was saying.  My perception is that the translator knew what the guy was saying so she just assumed the rest of us non-Spanish-speaking people did too.  People would ask questions in Spanish, and the translator would just stand there looking at the presenter (I couldn’t blame her though; the guy was cute).  Anyways, back to Claudio: he would put the next slide up on the screen and then he would walk around with his cell phone and take pictures of us audience members.  He had to have taken at least 25 pictures, and I think many of them were of his animated PowerPoint slide!  That’s not even the best part.  After 1.5 hours of that, they herded us outside to the blacktop area where they had a bunch of dry powder extinguishers and a metal trough.  They then put wood in the trough, drenched it in gasoline and lit it.  Two staff members at a time were to rush up and put the fire out using the extinguishers.  Then the presenter guy lit a match, through it in the trough, and threw on it to get it going again for the next batch.  Two thoughts entered my mind during this fire and powder frenzy: “These guys should be using diesel, not gas” and “This would NEVER be allowed in the US!”  During this fire act, I relinquished my extinguisher to another International teacher who really wanted to put a fire out (maybe relates back to that whole boys-want-to-be-firemen-when-they-grow-up thing) and retreated to my room for a bit more planning before the end of the day.

Stay tuned for my next blog about my harrowing adventures of hauling a 5 gallon jug of water to my apartment from the corner OXXO store!

Culture Overload

Sitting in meetings presented entirely in another language with little translation makes you think about interesting things.  Well, maybe not you, but me.  And because I don’t want you to miss out on my thought patterns, here’s an example: I’m glad I’m not having the bug problems that others are having…la cucaracha, la cucaracha—cockroaches are gross!...This two hour presentation could have been done in 15 minutes tops… What does entonces mean again?... 

Coming from a culture that values time, I’m finding it difficult adjusting to a culture that values relationships.  It’s not that I do not value relationships—one of my primary love languages is quality time—it’s that I’m feeling like I’m not being efficient enough.  If I give up a little bit of time in one place, I have to give up that time somewhere else.  Yet in this culture, time doesn’t reign supreme.  Yes, I need to be to work on time and retain that professional quality (unless the school provided bus is late…), but if my meeting runs long at the end of the day, I’m not going to miss my bus because 2:45pm could mean 3:05pm or later.  If the meeting is supposed to last one hour it probably will go over, but whatever I have to do will be there later.  Procrastination is the name of the game here in Mexico, but not necessarily in a bad way—it’s just the way it is.  Now whether my punctuality results from time oriented parents, working at a school, or is just some wacked out trait I picked up on my own, the consequences are the same: time oriented person + people oriented culture ≠ a happy ending.  One of the two elements has to change; any guesses as to which one it will be?

At this point in time, I think I’ve reached culture overload.  Not only culture as in a different country, but ever sense of the word.  New school.  New boss.  New standards.  New curriculum.  New apartment.  New people.  New language.  New stores.  New food.  Those of you who know me even a little know that I DO NOT deal well with change.   And as much as I’d like to convince you (and me) that I had no preconceived notions of what this move and job were going to be like, the overwhelming truth shows otherwise.  Disappointment is the key indicator.  I’m disappointed in my job, how I’m interacting with others (or lack-there-of in some instances), and how slowly I’m adapting and picking up the language.  While I realize that culture shock is part of every move I’ve ever made, I guess I thought it would get easier.  Some of you may be saying to yourselves, “How could you expect moving to another country would be easier?”  Great question!  The world of denial causes many types of people, especially Kisers, to do untold of, crazy and stupid things.  Personally, I blame my parents for a defective reasoning gene, but that’s a whole other blog entirely… :)

Have no fear!  This diatribe of disappointment is not an indicator of quitting.  As long as I’m not in any physical/emotional danger, I’m not leaving—I signed a one year contract and I’m going to see it through.  Plus I know that this is only the beginning.  Eight days is not enough to determine the outcome of an entire school year, especially since I have yet to meet my students.  But while I may be a stubborn person, it’s going to take much more than that to make this year a success.  I deeply request and covet your prayers, especially for these next few weeks.  Specifically for the following:

·         Boldness and confidence in and outside the classroom

·         Becoming more relationship oriented

·         Interactions with my peers that still allow me to be a shining star and follow Philippians 2:12-18—this is difficult because my interests are vastly different than those of the majority of my international colleagues.

·         Time with God and finding a church

Oh, and notes of encouragement are always good too! 

Life in Queretaro

WARNING: this entry will be a bit long, so you may want to prepare yourself for boredom or plan breaks at several intervals.

Since arriving in Querétaro six days ago, much has happened.  I have not had much time to process and decompress until today.  My mind has been a sponge, absorbing massive amounts of information in a short time.  It is difficult to describe what I’m experiencing, but I’ll attempt to do so with this entry. 

Querétaro is a growing city.  Most of the people I’ve met are not from here but have been here for many years.  The vast majority is from Mexico City, but others are from Sonora and other boarder states and towns.

This city is a conglomeration of old and new.  Old churches fill the skyline downtown; new malls are scattered around the periphery of downtown.  Small homes and stores intermingle along streets; larger businesses and condominiums push the city’s boundaries.  Compared to other places in Mexico, this city is very clean and safe.  The police officers, for the most part, are not looking for bribes, streets and buildings are swept/mopped/power-washed regularly.  Markets are clean and mostly organized.  Streets are narrow and sidewalks even more so—to walk two abreast on a sidewalk is a very cozy feat.  Traffic signals and speed limits are merely suggestions—the drivers are extremely aggressive, even compared to Californian drivers, so it is best to stay on the sidewalks.  Shops and houses intermingle, leaving me to wonder which is which often. 

People are friendly and helpful, so much so that even if they don’t know where something is they’ll think about it and give you an answer.  Lesson learned: if they don’t answer right away, it’s probably best to ask another person.  Also, it is very important to great every person at school individually, and if you're close to them, give them a hug and airkiss next to their face.  This is a hugging, touching culture.  It is going to be a switch from my American mindset of "touching a student, however harmless, may end in being fired", vs. making students feel loved and accepted here by hugging and tussling hair.

Transportation is fairly inexpensive.  The busses cost $6.50 pesos (about $0.50 US), but are a bit confusing to figure out at first.  There are bus stops, but you can flag them down where ever and get off where ever.  Once I master the bus routes, I’ll take them whenever possible.  Taxis charge for the zone only, so if I want to take a taxi from my apartment down town, it costs about $40-45 pesos (about $4 US).  So far I’ve never been offered the “gringo price”—if you ever have to pay $100 pesos for a ride around town, you know you’ve been taken.

American women are believed to be “easy” here.  Thanks to MTV and Hollywood movies, we are sluts.  Also dating an international person is considered a status symbol, so altogether I’m quite popular here with my blond hair and blue eyes…

Nightlife reigns supreme.  Bars and clubs flourish.  Age limits seem to be flexible, especially if students have fake IDs.  It’s common for our students to be at popular places, yet one more reason for me not to go there.  This current group of International teachers (ages 22-27) seems particularly interested in exploring the nightlife.  I think that’s great, but I am not a late-night person and never have been.  The other teachers probably think I’m a hermit, but that’s ok.  I’m hoping to befriend some National (Mexican) teachers at school and learn things to do in the afternoon/evening.  But at night, since I’m very near a university, I put my earbuds in and listen to piano music to help me sleep.
It’s difficult and sometimes frustrating to be surrounded by a language I barely know.  Already I’ve used more Spanish than I thought I knew, so that’s encouraging.  I hope that with the start of Spanish classes I’ll become more fluent quickly.  Until then I’ll keep practicing my limited knowledge and smile when others laugh at me.

Links to pics on FB:
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150340032086419.398586.596911418&l=586ed32962&type=1
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150336725486419.397708.596911418&l=678a608158&type=1

Bienvenidos!

The past few days have been a whirlwind.  There is so much to see/do/learn and it’s difficult to know where to begin.  The lifestyle in Querétaro contains fragments of familiarity: the necessity for food, transportation, and shelter.  The elements are similar, yet the utilization is what sets the US and Mexico apart (among many other things).  Since my arrival two days ago, I have seen poverty, affluence, donkeys beside the road, rolling green hills, cobblestone streets, Nationals laughing at my attempts and Spanish, and an overwhelming sense of friendliness even to a “gringo” such as myself.  Culture shock has not knocked me off my feet (yet), but it has pushed me further on to understand people who are different than me.  I do not feel at home yet—that will take some time, but I am content.

Currently my priorities are: purchase a pay-as-you-go phone and figure out how to get internet at my apartment... oh, and groceries would probably be good too!

And the Journey Begins... or Continues

After an outdoor church service, my parents and I ate a quick lunch of leftover chicken enchiladas (my last dinner at home that I prepared) and we headed south.  We stopped by the hospital in Everett so I could say goodbye to my grandpa who had open heart surgery last week, and then we fought Sea Fair traffic and won!  That is to say, there wasn’t much traffic…  Anyway, we got to the airport a little over four hours early, thanks to a weird relationship between Continental and United Airlines, the bag check-in experience was a bit arduous.  I tried to check my bags at Continental, with whom I purchased my plane ticket, and the screen told me it couldn’t accept checked bags more than four hours prior to the flight.  So I was going to wait a bit longer (about five minutes) and try again when I overheard someone tell another passenger that since she was technically flying United that she needed to take her bags down to the United counter and check them there.  My parents and I packed up the roughly 138 pounds of gear plus two carry-on items and hauled them down to United.  Upon trying to check my bags there, the screen told me that the flight may only allow one checked item per passenger and that I had to wait for an agent to assist me.  This caused a mini melt-down because I had paid for three bags the previous night online.  To help dissipate my fears (after I swore in front of my mother and almost burst into tears), I ferociously zip-tied my luggage while my dad checked the weight—miracle/proof God is with me #1 all of my luggage was under weight (barely)!  The agent came and miracle #2 he tagged all of my items and put them on the conveyor belt without question!  Next I bid a tearful goodbye to my folks and headed into the security check line—miracle #3 no problems and my fears of being strip-searched were for nothing!  Approaching my gate I noticed that my flight was delayed 40 minutes, which then bled into being in a holding pattern just outside San Francisco for 20 more minutes due to weather, and shortened my layover time by half.  Yay!  Oh, and as a side note, the people I sat next to on my flight I nicknamed Los Besos—‘nuf said… 

Thanks to a training in Vancouver BC last year, going through customs wasn’t quite so scary this time.  Nothing to mention for the flight from SFO to MEX other than I had difficulty sleeping.  So for now, I am going to find a quiet(er) corner in the E2 hall and try to sleep for a bit.  Thanks for all your prayers!  GIGATT!