En Querétaro

Following last Sunday spent with the caravan in Irapuato, we were exhausted.  I know that a day of shopping and then distributing our purchases can not possibly compare to what the migrants are feeling each day, but we were emotionally and physically drained.  Regardless, we knew that there were more groups coming, and we wanted to be a bit better prepared for the next arrivals.

Before I go on, I’d like to address some of the negative media reports that some of you may have seen.  The main topics have been A) the migrants have turned up their nose at the food and water offered to them, B) they have left a mess behind at each resting place, and C) they are dangerous criminals who will use force to breach the US border.  This has not been our experience in the days spent working with these groups.

A) I have seen a couple of videos on YouTube showing members of the caravan saying that they don’t like beans, and wishing they had soda instead of water. While I’m sure this is true of some members of the group, every person that we offered food to was extremely appreciative. Although some of them seemed suspicious of the unfamiliar foil packs of tuna (and the gringa trying to convince them it was “muy rico”), and beans don’t seem to be a staple of the Honduran diet like they are in Mexico, people who didn’t want them politely declined.  They loved the apples, protein bars, and boiled eggs, and most of them gladly accepted the hot meal that was served by a Mexican government organization.

No more eggs!

B) I have seen photos of the trash left behind at a couple of the sites. When the first groups began arriving, there really weren’t any services in place for them. Porta-Potties were brought in after their arrival, but I didn’t see any trash bins.  Each morning at 4 a.m., the caravan is woken up by their leaders with megaphones and told to clean up their area.  People have to choose what to continue to carry with them, and many people don’t have backpacks or bags.  When new (used) clothes are distributed, the crusty clothes that have been worn for days or weeks are often discarded since there are no laundry facilities, but some are hand-washed and hung up to dry.  I can personally attest to the fact that each time one of us grabbed a trash bag and picked up a wrapper off the ground, everyone in the surrounding area pitched in to help.

Trash Pickup:

Laundry:

C) In any group of thousands of people, there will be some “bad apples.”  The closest thing I have personally witnessed in the two days spent with two different groups is a few tough guys who cut the line.  The majority of people were willing to wait in orderly lines for an hour or more, not knowing if there would be anything left when they reached the front.  We were thanked a thousand times, even when we had no more boxer shorts, lip balm, backpacks, shoes, socks, hats, gloves, or other things they were desperate for.  Aliya went with us to Querétaro, and of course I kept a watchful eye on the situation, but we had no problems whatsoever.  I am afraid of what is going to happen at the border, when the pressure from both sides erupts, but the groups have been peaceful when we spent time with them.

Lines, lines, and more lines:

Now back to Querétaro.  On Thursday night we found out that a large group of about 2,000 people would be arriving the next day.  CC, Poppy, Noah (Poppy’s son), and I went out shopping at Bodega Aurrera (Mexican Walmart) that night, and bought 38 umbrella strollers, yoga mats, blankets, underwear, hats, gloves, scarves, packets of cooked beans, boxes of milk and juice, tarps, diapers, wipes, baby food, and some little toys.  I had ordered backpacks, mylar blankets, and lip balm, but those didn’t arrive until we were already in Querétaro, so they were delivered to Irapuato on Saturday.  We also had donations of clothes and shoes from friends, neighbors, and the coffee shop next to our house – Geek & Coffee.  All of this was made possible by friends and family as far away as Canada and as close as my next-door neighbor, and we so appreciate the generosity.

One of my favorite moments was when this cashier looked at what we were buying and asked if there was going to be a party at our house.

The next morning after a few conference calls for work, Poppy, Aliya, and I headed to Querétaro.  A lot of the supplies had been transferred to two other vehicles, so we had plenty of space to stop at Costco and load up on protein bars, socks, Ibuprofen, cough drops, cheese sticks, apples, and yogurt drinks.  We also had 90 boiled eggs that Ben hooked us up with, plus water, toilet paper, and backpacks that we found at Soriana, and we had hit several pharmacies for the tiny tubes of lip balm that are 3-5 pesos each.  Friends were simultaneously shopping in other stores for small tents, blankets, and other supplies.

When we arrived at the stadium mid-afternoon, I was afraid we were in the wrong place or that the group had changed course.  Unlike Irapuato, we saw nobody headed toward the pit stop.  It turned out that we had just beat most of them there.  Once we finally found our way to the right parking lot and found Wesley (the van), Rebecca, and Sam, we were able to pull in beside them and get set up just as larger groups started arriving.  Mexican government organizations were serving beans, rice, and tortillas, and providing foam mats and blankets, which the members of the caravan set up just outside of the stadium.  A tanker truck full of water was parked by the rows of Porta-Potties, where people could try to bathe albeit in full view of everyone and in freezing cold water.

Food on the left, mats on the right:

Bathing facilities:

One of the things that struck me was that except for the meal and mats provided by government organizations, the people who were distributing supplies were all people that I know.  Rebecca and Sam were with Wesley, informing people about the process for legally asking for asylum and the dangers that would likely lie ahead, while handing out snacks and water and letting people charge their phones in Wesley’s charging station.  Our SUV was mostly emptied within a couple of hours, as was Lindsey and Charity’s minivan.  Shortly after that, Richard and Andrew showed up with a bounty of backpacks, underwear, t-shirts, shampoo, soap, and other needs.  Sher, Gary, and Sandy showed up from the UU community with lots of food.  After dark, Richard disappeared and came back with 250 hot tamales which were gladly received.

We didn’t have to deny any families a carrito this time!

The used-clothing distribution was a little less orderly than the rest:

There were several groups of people on-site from different organizations.  Two men from a humanitarian organization helped keep the line in check while Aliya and I emptied Richard’s trunk.  I spent some time chatting with 5 immigration officers, which is a story for another day, but when I asked why they were there they said that they would help anyone who wanted to go back to their home country, and they were also there to protect the volunteers.  After that, I did notice their vigilance.

The guy in the red hat (Abraham) was a huge help keeping the line moving.  He thanked us profusely for being there, and asked if he could hug me at the end (I almost never turn down hugs).

It’s hard to get beyond the logistics and the sometimes-inaccurate media reports and help people understand what it is really like to be there, but I hope the photos help.  I can’t conclude without mentioning Aliya (my 17YO daughter).  The kid was a rockstar, among all of the other rockstars who were there to help.  With her Spanish ability and teenage energy, she worked tirelessly to match what we had with people who needed it.  When a guy arrived late in the day with plastic slides (sandals) and no socks, she found a pair of fleece socks that she had hidden away earlier.  He was thrilled.  When a mom walked into the stadium in just her socks, there was a pair of sneakers for her.  Babies and toddlers with no shoes, socks, pants, jackets…she hooked them up.  A guy who REALLY needed a backpack got one.  And at the end of the day, she sat and chatted with a group about politics, their plans, the US, music…you name it.  Everyone was completely respectful and appreciative.

Aliya chatting with new pals:

The lady on the right walked in with no shoes:

This little boy was wearing only a shirt and a diaper:

The need for shoes is never-ending:

The guy in the poncho asked if I had a clean t-shirt but I told him all I had was a ladies’ shirt.  He looked at me like, “Uh…I’m wearing a crocheted poncho.”

We drove the hour+ home emotionally and physically spent, but already making plans for how to prepare and what to buy for the next group that passes through.  We don’t know when that will be, but they are coming.  We wish they would not continue to the border, but most of them won’t be deterred by our warnings.  They would rather die reaching for a better life, than die staying at home.  They think that God will protect them.  I cry when I think about what is ahead of them, but at least they will know that in Central Mexico there were people who cared about them and tried to ease their journey.

Rebecca doing her thing:

La Caravana de Migrantes

I aspire to be one of the helpers Mr. Rogers’ mom told him to look for.  I’m not a firefighter, a paramedic, or a full-time helper, but I try to help when I can.  For the past few weeks we’ve been hearing talk of a caravan of migrants headed toward us, as they make their way toward the Mexico-US border.  We didn’t know when or where they would arrive, or what they would need, but I thought we’d have a little time to prepare.  It didn’t turn out that way.

One of my challenges is that I like to know exactly what the plan is, or to have enough information to make a plan.  When I heard that the caravan needed socks, socks, and more socks, my brain immediately started questioning the logistics.  What size socks?  What if everyone brings socks and there is no food or water?  What if we bring socks and people are wearing flip-flops?  Organizing is one of my strong suits, but it can also be my downfall.

Before I go any further, I want to address the elephant in the room – especially since there will likely be friends and family reading this who do not share my political views.  While I certainly have my opinions about politics and immigration, my involvement in the relief efforts is not a political statement.  I’m not going to argue or defend my position.  For me, this was a humanitarian effort, not unlike assisting any other group of displaced people in need.  Thousands of people were without the basic necessities, and I had the means to fill some of those needs.  If you want to talk politics, I’m happy to do that over a glass of wine.

Rebecca and Wesley (there’s another photo of Rebecca being interviewed near the bottom of this post). Photo: Zélie Pollon

Last week, I went to the screening of a documentary called The Only Home I Know, which profiles 6 “Dreamers” who are living in the US.  After the video was shown, our friend Rebecca – a US immigration attorney – was asked to answer questions for the group of maybe 150ish people.  As I watched her standing there, fielding questions about the current immigration situation and what the caravan would be facing at the border, I was touched by not only her expertise on the topic, but also the depth of her commitment to the people seeking asylum in the US.

I had taken Rebecca with me a few months ago when I met a young Honduran couple that was preparing to sleep on the street with their two adorable little girls.  I could understand what the family needed – blankets, hats, food, and a request from the girls – Barbies, but I knew that trying to convince them not to continue to the US border was beyond my current Spanish abilities.  Rebecca talked with them and confirmed the mother’s fears that children were being separated from their families at the border.  We gave them what we could, supplies and money for bus fare, as well as the address of the safe house in Celaya.  I hope they did not attempt to cross into the US, but we will never know.

So, back to last weekend.  On Saturday afternoon I saw a Facebook post from Rebecca telling friends in SMA that the time to help was at that moment – the caravan was streaming into a stadium in Queretaro – about an hour away from San Miguel de Allende.  Although my first instinct was to jump in, we were totally unprepared.  We had no supplies, and I was on my way to the campo to drop off kids that I would have to pick up again in a few hours.  After trading messages with our friend Trish, we decided to help at the caravan’s next stop, Irapuato.

Trish and her husband Dick are a force to be reckoned with.  They – like many, MANY members of the over-70 crowd here in San Miguel, work tirelessly to improve the lives of others.  Actually, I’m sure they’re exhausted, but they just keep moving forward.  They are role models for living life to the fullest, and using the available resources to make a difference.  I hope that when I’m retired and my kids no longer need me to check their homework and drive them to soccer practice, I’ll be able to do great work like Trish and Dick, and all of the amazing examples I see around me.

Here they are!

 

These 3 photos were posted by Trish and Dick.

When Trish asked me to drive to Irapuato, I have to admit, I felt some trepidation.  In San Miguel we live in a bit of a bubble.  During daylight hours (and occasionally at night), I can expand that bubble to Queretaro, Celaya, and Dolores Hidalgo, but Irapuato isn’t really within my normal comfort zone.  But how could I complain about the dangers of driving an hour and a half into unknown territory, when the thousands of people in the caravan – men, women, children, babies – are braving untold dangers every single day as they trek thousands of miles to the north?  Plus, Trish and Dick were going!  If I’m going to grow up to be like them, it’s time to start working on it!

Enter my good friend CC, who immediately offered to go to Irapuato with me, while our friend Poppy cheered us on from her sickbed, despondent that she couldn’t come along.  Trish has raised thousands of dollars to help the caravan through a GoFundMe campaign, and between the money she set aside for me, and donations from Poppy and several other friends, CC and I had a budget of $1,500-$2,000 US to spend.  But what to spend it on?  We had some suggestions from people who had been to Queretaro to help the day before, including Rebecca, who was there with 3 other American lawyers offering advice to the caravan.  I had to silence the “what-ifs” (what if we bring the wrong stuff?), and forge ahead.

On Sunday morning, I picked CC up at 10 and we headed to the UU service to grab some donations from members who had pulled together clothes, shoes, and other supplies at a moment’s notice.  From there we filled the gas tank, stopped at the ATM to take out as much cash as it would give me (16,000 pesos), and headed to the tianguis – which is like a big flea market that sells everything from prepared food to new and used clothes to parakeets and electronics.  In less than an hour we had wheeled and dealed to purchase 72 pairs of socks, a giant pile of hats and scarves, 10 pairs of used sneakers, and 14 fleece jackets.

Our next stop was the local grocery store – La Comer, where we bought 8 umbrella strollers, baby food and wipes, sanitary napkins, yoga mats, backpacks, medicine, all of the rain ponchos they had on the shelf, and a lot of small fleece blankets.  We knew that the weather forecast for the next few days called for temperatures in the 40’s (F).  Then it was off to Celaya, where we stopped at Home Depot for tarps and rope to make tents or to use instead of sleeping directly on the ground.  We grabbed dinner at Subway for the legal team, and made a final stop at Costco for protein bars, foil packets of tuna, pain reliever, and lollipops.  We hadn’t spent our entire budget, but we were running out of car space and it was now about 3 p.m. so we had to leave for Irapuato and save the rest of the money for the next wave of people.

 

Irapuato was about an hour’s drive from Celaya, and as we entered town we started to encounter people walking, asking the passing cars for food, water, and pesos.  We were blindly following a pin called “Rebecca’s Location,” where we found Rebecca and her team with her beloved 1985 VW Westfalia named Wesley, which had become a gathering spot and charging station (you can read about the past travels of Rebecca’s family and Wesley here).  We pulled into the dusty parking lot that was filled with vehicles and hundreds of Central Americans, as well as many of our SMA friends (you know who you are) attempting to distribute supplies in some sort of organized manner.  CC and I weren’t sure where to begin.

Photo: CC Stark

We were immediately approached by a few men who were desperate to know if we had shoes that would fit them.  I was struck by the migrants’ feet – a shocking number of people were wearing flip-flops, plastic slides, and in some cases – no shoes at all.  Some wore sneakers or other shoes, most of which had seen better days.  They were clearly not dressed like backpackers setting off on a journey covering thousands of miles and at least 3 countries.  Imagine that you woke up one morning, threw a few belongings into your kid’s school bag, grabbed whatever cash was in the house ($20?  $100?), and walked out the door carrying your baby in your arms.  Your husband has your 2-year-old on his shoulders.  You’re pregnant.  You don’t know where you’re headed or how you’ll get there, but you trust God to get you to your destination safely.  Traveling with others is safer than traveling alone, and safer than staying at home.  You’re willing to risk it all to make it to the US border and apply for asylum, for an opportunity to get a job – any job, and hope that your kids can go to school in relative safety.

This is the line behind my car. This photo and the photos below were taken by Zélie Pollon.

CC and I grabbed some protein bars and tuna pouches from the car and walked around offering them to whoever was interested.  The tuna pouches were unfamiliar to them and there was a definite preference for sweets.  We got a little more comfortable and started to offer some of the larger things from the car.  A crowd quickly formed, and I jumped inside to hand things out, while CC held down the fort outside.  For the most part, people were patient and respectful, calling us “madre” (mother) or “tia” (aunt), and asking for specific things that they needed.  At one point a police officer came over to help get people to line up, but none of the police or soldiers interfered much with the goings-on.

One thing I noticed was that no one seemed to be hoarding food or supplies – they took what they needed at that moment.  They didn’t just take for the sake of taking – as far as I could tell, they weren’t grabbing things to trade or barter with.  Considering that none of them had any idea where their next meal would come from, I don’t know how they were able to keep their survival instincts in check and share the bounty.  It was a relief when we had given away most of the larger items and things calmed down a bit.  We were able to chat with some of the people hanging around the car, and with our friends who had also given away what they had.

I am a very emotional person – it’s a curse.  I empathically feel the emotions of people near me, and my desire to help means that it hurts when I can’t fulfill a need.  Looking back, I’m surprised that I didn’t cry all day.  The closest I came was when a few mothers asked if we had “carritos” (umbrella strollers) and I had to tell them that they were gone.  They were disappointed but resigned to the fact that they would have to carry their children again the next day.  If we had been there earlier I would have made a second run to buy more strollers, buckets of lip balm and cough drops, more tarps, more sneakers, underwear, and small boxes of milk and juice.  One little boy asked if we had any toys.  Oy – my heart.

CC and I finally headed back to San Miguel – about an hour and a half away.  We were exhausted and hungry, but it was impossible to complain in comparison to the thousands of people camped out for the night.  The next morning they would break camp at 5 a.m. and try to catch rides in the backs of trucks or on top of flatbeds loaded with cargo, and head to their next stop – Guadalajara.

This is my account of one day – a teeny drop in the bucket.  Here are a few links if you’d like to learn more about the migration from Central America:

Thank you to all who donated funds for us to shop with on Sunday.  I will let everyone know if/when there is another opportunity to help.  Whenever you can, whatever your cause, wherever you are, whoever your people are, be a helper.

More photos taken by Zélie Pollon:

El Camión Ha Llegado

113 Boxes

The big news of the week is that our truck full of stuff from Framingham has arrived in San Miguel de Allende.  To be honest, some of the boxes and bins looked they had been involved in a roll-over crash, and there are random scratches here and there on the furniture.  You get what you pay for, I guess.

Several people have asked about the details of a cross-border move, so here they are.  Originally we weren’t planning on moving anything, except what we could fit into our Honda Pilot (which is not that much when you have 5 people, our regular luggage, and the cat).  I don’t know what we thought we were going to do with it all if we didn’t move it, because we didn’t have time to organize and sell it.  We ended up donating a ton, because the tax deduction results in more money in our pockets than a yard sale.  Some of our furniture we left for the new renters to use.

A few months ago, we saw a post on the local SMA Yahoo group – someone was driving an almost-empty 16-foot truck from the Boston area to Laredo, Texas, in order to tow a car to San Miguel.  He was willing to drive the truck, but we would basically be paying for it (the truck, but not the car trailer).  When we headed from MX to MA, we stopped in Laredo to meet the customs agent who would process our stuff across the border if we decided to go forward with this plan.  He seemed like a good guy, and at that point everyone was excited about packing up their treasures and bringing them to San Miguel.

Over the next couple of weeks, we realized that we couldn’t meet the empty-truck driver’s timeline, and we didn’t think we could get the proper paperwork from the consulate to move the stuff across the border without paying the 17% duty, so we told the empty-truck driver that it wasn’t going to work.  When we went to the consulate for our visas, our favorite consulate employee – Concepción – told us that we could get the necessary paperwork, so we started thinking about Plan B.  Maybe WE could rent a truck and drive it to Laredo.

Seems like a crazy idea, right?  Ben driving a truck from MA to TX, with me driving the Pilot.  Well, we’ve been known to do crazy stuff, and everyone already had their favorite items picked out.  Not to mention that the cost of the stuff we could fit into a 16-foot truck was way more valuable than the cost to transport it.  On the way back from a trip to Vermont, Aliya and I saw an older lady driving a Penske moving truck with a dog on her lap, so we figured it couldn’t be that hard.  ONWARD!

As we were packing boxes I had to number each one and make a list in Spanish – Box #1 – ropa (clothes), Box #2 – cosas para la cosina (kitchen stuff), Box #3 – juguetes (toys), Box #4 – libros (books).  For all electronic items I had to note the make, model, and serial number on the list.  None of the items could be new, and we could not transport any consumables like paper towels or food, and no guns, etc.  When the list was complete, we had to write a letter in Spanish and take 4 copies of the letter, list, my passport and visa to the consulate.  Concepción took care of us right away, and gave us 3 signed and sealed copies of our “menaje de casa.”  I think the cost was somewhere around $125-$150.

Some of the boxes on the list did not fit onto the truck, but apparently that’s ok – we just couldn’t have anything in the truck that was not on the list.  Concepción pointed out that when Ben gets his new visa (which was separate from ours – another story), we could get ANOTHER menaje de casa in his name to move the rest of our stuff.  I’m not sure I’d want to go through it again, but maybe in time I’ll forget how hard it was and decide to empty the garage.

Once we arrived in Laredo we handed the contents of the truck over to a customs agent and hoped for the best.  I had gotten prices for the Laredo-to-San Miguel leg of the trip which ranged from $2500 to $8900…you can probably guess which one we chose.  The cost of the 16-foot Penske truck for 10 days, including gas and tolls, was around $2000.  We paid our extremely motivational movers/Tetris experts $500 to load the truck in Framingham.  So for a little over $5000 total we moved a sofa and loveseat, a chair-and-a-half, a reclaimed wood cabinet, an old sewing machine cabinet, Norah’s dresser and bed with 12 drawers underneath (a beast), Adlani’s bed, our king-sized bed, 2 TVs (one big), a DVD player, 4 big rugs, some miscellaneous artwork, and 113 boxes of random possessions.  We also had some new things and consumables (including 4 containers of maple syrup), but those rode in the Pilot.

Now that our things are here I feel like we might actually settle in at some point.  We still need a few pieces of furniture, but mostly we need some storage pieces for our kitchen stuff.  It’s pretty easy and economical to have that kind of furniture built here, but meanwhile I need to get Ben to stop unpacking boxes of things that I have no place to put.  Wish me luck.

Living Room in Progress

Bienvenidos a San Miguel

Bienvenidos

Looking out our front door into the garden.

I can’t believe it has been a week since we arrived back in San Miguel.  It has been a whirlwind of catching up with local friends, hanging out with visiting friends, and getting acquainted with new friends we had known only virtually.  The kids immediately jumped back into the sleepover scene, and we have already hosted a pizza party and a Chinese food feast, along with several other gatherings.  I’ve also had to get back into work-mode and get through a huge pile of emails.  It has been a little crazy, but no complaints.  Well, except for the scorpion who came to visit (and left in a body bag).

The trip from Matehuala to San Miguel was uneventful.  We took our time leaving Las Palmas (the hotel) and had a good breakfast before heading out.  As soon as we hit the road, I let go of all of the tension and anxiety of the previous weeks and thought, “If the car breaks down now, I can call Dan the Man to come get us.”  Dan the Man is the best tour guide / driver EVER, and it was a relief to know that help was a phone call away if we needed it.

Luckily, we had no problems on the road, and we rolled into San Miguel around 3 p.m.  I almost cried at the welcome from our friend Eucled and his 2 boys (one of whom is the beloved novio of Aliya)…a homemade pasta dinner, fresh bread, margaritas, wine, and breakfast provisions for the next morning.  Other friends (CC & family) showed up with a cake, some plates, and a stack of plastic chairs, since we have almost no furniture.  Our landlord did leave us several tables and chairs, which have come in really handy.  I can’t even think of all the “gifts” we’ve received this week…toilet paper, flowers, fresh pomegranates, paper plates, a giant sack of limes, a loaned frying pan and a pot, lots of entertainment for the kids – we’re so grateful.

We are currently camping out in our beautiful and gigantic home.  I feel a bit like the Beverly Hillbillies except our truck full of random stuff hasn’t arrived yet.  It’s supposed to come Friday or Saturday, and the kids are really excited to be reunited with their treasures.  We’ve been working on putting away what was stored here and packed into the Pilot.  We need to buy a few pieces of furniture, but we’ll have the basics covered soon.  Our housekeeper, Ana, has been washing floors and windows and cleaning bathrooms – it’s a big house and had undergone a lot of construction work before we arrived.  Our gardener, Fernando, will be here soon to keep the foliage at bay.

Our next step is to get our visas finalized, and to transform the house from a big empty shell into a home.  School starts on the 7th, and the kids are really looking forward to going back.  I’ll be happy to get back into a routine, although I’ve been doing fine with work due to the flexibility of my job.  My work website has been getting a lot of recognition lately and I think most people finally understand what I do and why (that’s a relief).  Our fabulous property manager has found a tenant for our Framingham house, so they will be moving in September 1st.  It’s all falling into place.

I will post some photos of the house soon!

South of the Border, Again

Map

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Today really couldn’t have gone better, which was a welcome relief after the delay in Texarkana.  Last night’s hotel was about an hour and a half north of Laredo, where we had to go to drop off all of our worldly possessions.  The earliest we could meet the customs agent was at 9, so I sent Ben and Aliya ahead to find the warehouse and get the unloading process started, while I got things packed up at the hotel and the car loaded.

When I arrived at the warehouse, the unloading was well underway.  Our mover was not there and neither was his agent, so it was one of those times when you just have to trust that it will all work out.  Ben was in the truck handing boxes to Juan and Mario, who were piling them inside the warehouse and on the dock.  The truck was unloaded in no time, and meanwhile I worked with Luis to get all the paperwork squared away.  Hopefully we will see our stuff sometime next week.

By 11ish we were headed to Penske to return the truck, and after a quick stop at the ATM and trip through the Wendy’s drive-through, we were headed to the border.  We didn’t really know what to expect…there were a lot of variables.  On the US side we just had to pay the toll to get across Bridge 2 ($3.50).  On the Mexico side there was no line, no waiting…I pulled up at Customs and the guy opened the back of the car, unzipped one duffel bag (Aliya’s), stuck his hand in, asked me what I do for work, commented on how expensive San Miguel is in comparison to Neuvo Laredo, and sent us on our way.

After a few wrong turns we found our way to Migración, where the kids and I needed to get the form that gives us 30 days after entering the country to finish processing our permanente visas.  It took about an hour but there was a super-helpful guy and a couple of officers who got us through the process.  Ben’s temporal visa is still valid so he was able to stay outside with Wally.  I had all of Wally’s paperwork ready but nobody ever asked to look at it.

There is a checkpoint not far into Mexico where they are supposed to review your documents, but when we passed through there were no officials in sight – only 2 men begging for change.  We continued through without stopping, and then we had to make a decision.  We could stay in Saltillo which was only a few hours away, but there were no reasonable hotels that would accept Wally.  Or we could continue to Matehuala, about 5 hours away, where Wally was welcome.

After a quick detour to hit the ATM for pesos, we decided to go to Matehuala and stay at the Las Palmas Midway Inn, and we’re so happy we did.  This hotel is like a motel from the 60’s…very quaint and retro, but also very safe and clean.  Our car is parked right outside our window so we didn’t have to unload everything.  The restaurant was open until 11, so we just had a great dinner.  The bellmen ride around on bikes because the hotel is a bunch of 1-story buildings on a pretty large piece of land.  Norah already has her eye on the pool, and there’s also mini-golf.  I suggested staying for a few days, but they wouldn’t go for it.

On this trip, it has not always been easy for me to just go with the flow and not be able to plan where we’re sleeping, eating, etc., but everything has worked out so well – even with the short delay.  We will arrive in San Miguel tomorrow afternoon, and we CAN NOT WAIT to see our new house and all of our friends – both the local ones, and the ones who are currently vacationing in San Miguel.  We’ll be camping out in our house for the next week or so until our stuff arrives and we can buy whatever else we need, but WHO CARES?  The last 7 weeks have been SO LONG, with many unknowns and so much work – physically, mentally, emotionally…I may just crawl into my sleeping bag and stay for a while.