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:

I don’t have Writers’ Block.  Every day I see things or have thoughts or feelings that I could write about here, in order to remember these experiences and share them with our friends and family. In the past, I’ve often gotten stuck, and written less than I’d like because I was too busy, but this time it’s a little different.

The last week of September I heard the terrible news of the sudden death of a friend – the husband of one of my closest friends. A few days later I heard that another of my closest friends had just found out that her daughter, a college sophomore, has cancer.  How can I write about fireworks and tacos when my friends are facing such life-changing challenges? On the other hand, I’m positive they wouldn’t want me to stop writing. I know they are both avid readers of my blog and I could even boldly hope that reading it might give them a very short break from their daily routine.

So, I will get back on the horse. But before I post another photo of my amazing tortilla soup or share the highlights of San Miguel’s holiday celebrations, I will write about what it was like to go back “home.” When I got the call about my friend’s passing, my immediate feeling was helplessness. I couldn’t do ANYTHING to help and I felt VERY far away. Within less than 10 minutes I had made the decision to fly to Boston so I could be there in case there was something I could do, and to attend the services. I had a business trip planned for the following week, so I changed my tickets, found a bed in the ‘Ham, and left Ben and the kids on their own for 10 days.

Traveling from Mexico to the US was no big deal. I have my temporary resident card so I had to figure out how that works, but it was simple. The airport is about an hour away from our house, and I had a shuttle service pick me up. The airport is small, but modern. I flew out of Leon, but there is another option nearby – Queretaro. It’s about a 2-hour flight to Houston, and then maybe 3 ½-4 hours to Boston, followed by a bus ride to Framingham.

It was on the Logan Express bus that it hit me. I was going home. But was it still home? How would it feel to be in such a familiar place, running into people I knew? I felt stressed knowing that I would be so close to our house, with access to any “necessities” that I might want to take back to Mexico. Would it be odd to see someone else (a friend) living in our home? As the bus passed through the Weston tolls and drove the last 5 miles on the Mass Pike, I cried. Was I crying because I would soon be seeing some of my best friends? Would leaving them again be as heartbreaking as our departure in July? Was I crying about my friend who lost her husband so suddenly? Or because of the close proximity to our house, and our “stuff,” which has often felt overwhelming? Was I rethinking our decision to move?

Looking back I think it was a combination of all of the above, and a much-needed release of the pressure that had been building since I had received the news a few days earlier. My 5-day stay in Framingham was emotionally exhausting in many ways. Of course I felt my friend’s pain, but I did what I could to help. I can’t imagine not being there for her. I went to our house, and though I did feel the weight of the stuff we had been accumulating for decades, so many tasks left undone, and so much history, it only made me appreciate our uncluttered life even more. I spent time with a lot of friends, and spontaneously attended a 5K race at our elementary school. As I stood at the finish line yelling the names of my friends as they crossed, they each looked at me with shock, confusion, and excitement. Finally the family cheering next to me asked who I was and why I was such a surprise for so many.

It felt a lot like Homecoming Weekend. You’re off at college having a great time, but you miss your family and friends at home, your favorite hang-outs, certain foods. You come home for the weekend along with everyone else, catch up on news and get lots of hugs…laugh, cry, realize how much you love these people, and then head back to your new normal.

Quite a few friends have asked what the future holds for us. Are we coming back to the ‘Ham, or are we staying in San Miguel? Honestly, I don’t know the answer, and that may be another reason I have not written on my blog. Although we miss our people, we do love it here and pending approval from work I think we’d like to stay longer. Forever? I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve spent the last 10-ish years just trying to survive each day. Waking up in a panic because I was already behind – even though the day had just started. Yelling at my kids to get out of one sports uniform and into another. Stressing about schedules, traffic, field-trip forms, work, the condition of our house, and so many other things. Shopping for Halloween costumes, Spirit Day props, birthday-party gifts that nobody needed, and re-purchasing items that were lost somewhere in the house. Just trying to get through each day without forgetting something that would cost me my job, the house, or result in a kid being left somewhere on the other side of town without a ride home. I don’t know how I managed the stress.

Life is not perfect now. The kids still bicker (and the parents), my people still have to be reminded to pick up their dirty clothes, the dog still pukes. The internet is a little slow, the neighbors’ dogs bark, the construction that has been going on next door since we moved in still isn’t done.  But this town is magical. Colors so deep and vibrant they soak into you, joyful celebrations of anything that could possibly be celebrated, music and art all around, the challenge of a new language to learn, glorious weather, a fabulous school where the kids are thriving, fresh and delicious food, and lots of friends to share it with. The year we had planned here won’t be enough time to take it all in, or to give enough back.

I’m still not sure why I feel so different here/now – especially on weekends. It’s not like we’re sitting around relaxing all day – we still have responsibilities, places to be, things to do, challenges to meet. We still have 3 kids who need to be shuttled around, who leave their underwear on the floor and the cabinet doors open, and who seem to find joy in bickering with each other – ALL DAY LONG. There’s still a backlog of work to do, a basket of dirty laundry, and bills to pay. We don’t have any home maintenance here but we do have our house in the ‘Ham to worry about.

Despite all of the similarities, I feel like a different person. I am much less stressed. I feel less pressured, and therefore I spend less time yelling at my people. I know the flexibility of “Mexican Time” has something to do with it, because when I have a scheduled event that requires me to be on time, I feel the familiar flow of adrenaline and cortisol. I think I spent so much time under stress that I had grown accustomed to it…now I notice it and sometimes I can even stop, take a breath (or 100), and move forward.

Yesterday was a busier Saturday than we have had since we arrived, but I don’t remember feeling stressed at any point. We woke up around 8 to the sound of a hot air balloon RIGHT over our house. At first I couldn’t figure out what the noise was – we have a baby monitor in each of the kids’ bedrooms so we hear every noise in the house and the street noises in stereo. After about 4 or 5 whooshes I realized what it was and ran out on the terrace – the balloon filled the sky right above us. Thank God the balloon riders were probably tourists who will go home and never meet me on the street and say, “You’re that lady who was running around the terrace in her underwear yelling, ‘OH MY GOD! – BEN! COME OUT! – HURRY UP!!!!!!!!’ ” By the time I ran back in, put on shorts, scared the crap out of Ben, and grabbed my camera, the balloon was a lot farther away and higher, but I will try to get out there on the second whoosh next time (wearing pants and holding my camera).

We were thinking about making breakfast and Ben asked when the churro place would not be busy. It’s so popular there is often a line in the afternoon and evenings, but my guess was that if we went first-thing we wouldn’t have to wait. They open at 9 and it’s doubtful that the tourists would be getting up and heading straight for Café San Augustín. At the mention of churros over the baby monitors (I can talk to the kids by pressing the button like a walkie-talkie), everyone jumped out of bed and got dressed in record time. I took Annie for a walk while Aliya finished getting dressed, and Ben took Adlani and Norah to get a table. It’s about a 6-block walk from our house to the café – everything in the “centro” area is super-close to us.

We have been to San Augustin’s a few times, but yesterday was a special treat because the owner, Margarita Gralia was “in the house.” We had noticed the photos of her all over the walls on past visits – she is a 60YO Argentinian actress and has been in plays and Mexican telenovelas (soap operas) and appeared in the Mexican version of Playboy. People were asking her to take photos with them and she was very gracious about it. She went to each table to check on the customers and make sure everything was good (“todo bien”). Ben kept threatening to go have his picture taken with her – I knew he was serious when he asked Norah how to say “selfie” in Spanish (the trending term is “autofotito.”). Aliya and I were not on board with that idea and were relieved when Margarita left the restaurant, but when Ben realized she would be passing the window where we were sitting, he stopped her and asked for a photo. He and Norah climbed over, under, or through the metal bars across the window (my face-palm prevented me from observing their method of escape) and stood with her on the street while Aliya took the photo. Hopefully that’s off the bucket list so we can leave the woman in peace on future visits.

 

Aliya was meeting friends to go to Geek & Coffee, and Ben had to go to pick up Norah’s soccer uniforms, so I took the kids in a taxi and left Ben to fend for himself with his limited Spanish – he has mastered, “yo soy un hombre” –
“I am a man.”  I told him he might want to learn some more useful phrases besides stating the obvious and he’s working on that – we’re starting Spanish classes tomorrow! At least he’s not afraid to try and doesn’t let his single Spanish phrase stand in the way…he just speaks English louder and eventually people either get it, completely misunderstand, or run away. Anyway, the taxi dropped Aliya at her friends’ house and drove the rest of us to the animal shelter. Normally we would walk but it would have taken about 45 minutes and we were meeting friends there at 11. On the way we saw a woman riding on a 4-wheeler with a big minion piñata, a little dog wearing a hat, and a group of about 50 Harleys rumbling into town. The other day Ben and I saw two men carrying a giant cake down the street. Last night we saw a mariachi band dressed in bright green heading to the square. There’s always something to see.

 

The animal shelter is still one of the kids’ favorite activities and I love it too. When we arrived they were just opening and the kittens were all at the door of the kitty area meowing and jumping up on their treehouse to look out the window at us. I knew their excitement wasn’t because they had missed us – one of the first volunteers to arrive gives them canned cat food and they thought we were there to feed them. When Norah opened the door to the kitty room, the kittens poured down the steps like a waterfall of meowing furballs. I gathered them back up and they climbed all over Norah and I – Adlani was in the big-cat room where the kitties were happy to see him but not quite so exuberant.  There’s one cat in particular that Adlani likes – Isaac – who looks a lot like Wally (our cat who escaped) except he had to have his tail amputated because he got hit by a car.  He’s a total sweetie.

We spent about an hour at the SPA with some friends who have a son in between Adlani and Norah’s age. They have been traveling for about 18 months, after selling their home, cars, and other belongings. We have met 6 families here who have done some version of that – leaving their life in the US behind and hitting the road or moving south of the border. After the SPA we made a quick detour to drop Norah downtown to help Ben get her uniforms (he was supposed to pick them up at 11:30 but they still hadn’t arrived) and then went to Geek & Coffee with Andrew, Pati, and Ethan (you can read about their travels here).  Aliya found a baby (Eli) so she was in her glory.  The kids played in the big grassy yard while the adults sat around for a few hours eating, drinking agua fresca, and chatting. There were a bunch of kids there from our kids’ school (Ethan is in Norah’s class), and it was so cool to see our kids hanging out with new friends. We REALLY miss all of our “old” friends – in fact, so far that is the only thing I miss and we miss them A LOT!!!

We walked home from Geek & Coffee and then up to CaminArte in el Jardin. All week I’ve been terrified of the beautiful art, jewelry, and other treasures that would be calling my name this weekend – there are 3 different events where artisans are selling their work. I was very proud that I resisted making any purchases at CaminArte (I bought 2 paintings last time!) but there are still two gauntlets to get through today. You might be thinking – “why not just stay home and avoid the temptation?” Not an option!!  🙂  After we walked through el Jardin, Norah, Ben, and I sat on a wall, ate popcorn, and people-watched – Aliya was still with her friends and Adlani was at home. There are ALWAYS interesting things happening in el Jardin. Sometimes we don’t know what the heck is going on – like the fancy woman dressed in a military hat posing with a moji while a band serenaded them – but it’s never boring.  I was intrigued by the fortune teller at CaminArte but I was afraid he might tell me I should stay in SMA forever.  Or that he would tell me I should go back to the ‘Ham.

 

When we had gotten our fill of people-watching, we walked down the hill, bought some fruit from a lady on the street, saw a bride and groom headed to their wedding (yes, they were riding together) and walked home. After a couple of hours of reading/napping, we walked Annie, bought blue soccer socks for Ben, ordered a uniform to replace the one that he borrowed, and went to the pharmacy for athlete’s foot spray. Normally these purchases would not merit a mention in a blog post, but it’s quite a victory when we cobble together enough Spanish (especially without Aliya) to say “foot fungus” and order the right color uniform. To celebrate our small victories we went to Los Milagros for a dinner-snack, completing the trifecta of meals eaten outside of our house in one day. It was more like 3 big snacks, plus 2 small snacks (fruit and popcorn) and it cost less than a quick stop at BJs where we always seemed to buy enough granola bars to last for 6 months but not enough variety to make a full meal. There were two guitarists playing at Los Milagros who were GREAT!

We got home around 9, Aliya came home from the movies around 10 (a movie ticket costs 60 pesos – $3.75), and we were out cold shortly after.  It feels good to be tired out from being active and having fun, rather than whatever used to tire us out.  This morning we woke up to fireworks at 6:30 a.m. – a very common occurrence. Today we are going to Ben’s first Mexican soccer game, the artisans’ gauntlets, and the kids have an assignment from me to write about their first week at school which I will post later. ¡Buen dia!

Every Friday we buy a copy of Atención – a local bilingual paper that has great articles about San Miguel but also includes a calendar of events that we check religiously to make sure we don’t miss anything awesome. One section lists volunteer opportunities, and the SPA allows volunteers every day except Sunday to come in and play with the kittens, cats, puppies, and dogs that are waiting for a home. Of course my little band of animal lovers was dying to go and play.

We finally went today and it was GREAT! The facility is nice and clean – the animals are well taken care of. There are about 50 dogs and 20 cats who really seemed to love the attention. We met another US family there who sold their house, bought a sailboat and are living on it. San Miguel isn’t near the ocean…they’re here because it is super-hot in the Sea of Cortez in the summer, so they’ll be here until the weather changes and then they’re heading to Panama. They have 2 daughters – 10 and 12. It’s amazing how many adventurous families we’re meeting.

The kids are already begging to go back to the SPA…I just hope we can continue to volunteer without ending up with another pet. Our friends Sam, Laura, and Violet, who are heading back to NYC this weekend, are trying to figure out how to take home a puppy they fell in love with.

Just look at these happy campers (both human and feline/canine)…