A Funny Bus Story

I know eventually you are all going to get tired of hearing all about the wonderful bus system in Mazatlan, but I think I can get a couple more in before that happens. I had a meeting with the director of the English Teachers today downtown at a wonderful coffee shop that I will be visiting more often, but not too often as the coffee is 18 pesos...a little pricey for my budget. Anyway....when I finished I decided to have lunch on the beach, I hadn’t been to the beach yet at all...I know! I can’t believe it either. So I eat and sit on the beach and read a book for a bit and then decided to head home. So I do my whole “WalMart?” thing....I know! I should just memorize one sentence already...”is this the bus that goes to WalMart?” how hard can it be. He says “Si” I get on...off we go. Halfway there I decide to change my plans, about 2 blocks before we get to WalMart is an office supply store where Lydia suggested I buy a serge protector so that my laptop does not blow up, so I decide I will get off there. Remember a few posts ago I said that these bus drivers pay special attention to all their passengers and their needs? You thought I was being sarcastic right? The bus stops very close to the office supply store and I decide to get off, bus driver does not let me off...nope...he points up ahead and says “fhjsfhjsaWalMart” and points to the closest seat wanting me to sit down, and closes the door, so I sit down. We go a little further...just past the store, he stops to let some other people on and I try to get off again, and he says “fhjshfjshfhWalMart” and points up ahead again, by now I can see the big WalMart sign, I so desperately want to say “oh but wonderful man, I changed my mind, I want to buy a serge protector at the store we just passed” but I can’t.....by now a old man sitting in the front row has joined in and is also pointing to the seat wanting me to sit down and relax already...because we’re not there yet! ...I know that’s what he said. So I sit down....bus driver stops right in front of the main entrance and open the door, look at me and smiles and says “WalMart”. I smile and say “gracias” so now I don’t want the bus driver to see that I am not actually going into WalMart (I have no idea why that mattered to me) so I just stand there until I think he can’t see me anymore....(yeah, that looked so much better) From there I walked my 2 blocks to the store and back again....walking off my creama. ...it’s all good.

First Visit to Casa Damasco

Yesterday I met with some people that do some work at Casa Damasco (link on the left of the page) a wonderful couple from Canada, Bobby and Frank and another lady whose name I’ve forgotten and a local lady named Mariana. I had wanted to get my hands dirty while I was here and this seems like just the place, it is beyond dirty and so are the people. It is a drop in and drop off place for the people that have no where to go. Hospitals will drop patients off that are ready to be discharged but have no one to pick them up, police will drop off people that they don’t know what to do with. All of these people have some type of mental or physical disability and they all require constant care and attention. Today there were 11 people, 10 of which are permanent residents. They were all men except for 2 ladies, there is one teensy tiny little old lady that is 94 years old and is such a sweet heart, she grabbed me (has a good grip too) and covered me in kisses. I will usually back away from this type of affection but I had no choice, I’ll get used to it I’m sure. I’m not totally sure what her story is or why she’s there. The other lady is younger, hard to guess how old but I’d put her in her 40s. I’m told she is bipolar and schizophrenia, she sits by the door all the time with all her belongings packed, which mostly consists of crushed empty milk cartons that I have no idea what she plans on doing with. She wears a big black winter coat and long pants, apparently she does not make sense when she talks (not that I would notice....I don’t make sense either) She won’t let anyone touch her and will not move from her seat by the door. Just before we left she had a screaming fit and was talking very passionately about something, I asked Mariana what she was saying but she just hung her head and said “it’s just all very very bad things”. How can I help these people if I can’t even understand them? I can see this will be very frustrating for me. The rest are all men with various disabilities, a few that are deaf and mute, one missing a leg, another that had such a horrible infection that he may yet loose a leg, a few that just don’t comprehend or understand anything at all, they just sit in the same chairs day after day waiting for someone to bring them their meal and walk them to their cot at the end of the day. They have to be taken care of like small children. Makes me wonder if I will be in that condition some day, and if so, how would I want to be treated? What would make my long days more bearable? Do they have expectations even though their minds aren’t functioning?
I was told to just acknowledge them all, introduce myself and to touch them, these are people that no one wants to touch and they know that. Once they get to know me and trust me I can perhaps interact more with them.
We helped with lunch and served them their meal and cleaned up after wards. They have a wonderful couple that live there and have dedicated their life to take care of these people they must have come straight from heaven, they are giving and doing whatever they can but the whole place is filthy dirty and I feel that it doesn’t need to be that way. I would love to have the freedom in that house to scrub it down but I’m afraid they would be insulted by that. The dishrag that I attempted to wash the dishes with was so slimy it kept slipping out of my hand and it smelled very sour, could I at least bring new dishcloths I wonder? Or, could I offer to take theirs home to wash it (they have no hot water) and then loose it along the way somewhere. I think that’s the plan.

My hood at night

I went out a bit to early, it was just getting dark and some people hadn't plugged theirs in yet. There was also still men on the roofs putting more blow up things up (they love those here) I didn't want to look like such a complete tourist so I was sneaking pictures which is hard to do in the dark when your flash goes off. I think you get the idea....it's decked out big time (except for our house)

I'm getting really annoyed that I can't seem to choose where where my pictures land, I can't even line them up straight. If you click on them they get bigger, much much bigger and of course I don't know how to change that.

In search of a dead beheaded featherless chicken

I decide to cook supper for Lydia and I even though there is a palapa seafood restaurant right next door, I had supper there the day I arrived and it was really really good....eating there everyday would totally destroy my budget. They don’t open until 9am-ish which is normal for a lot of the Palapa places but I need coffee a little earlier than that. Lydia does not have a coffee maker; if I stay here much longer I will be buying her one. Anyway.....I went to the market yesterday to do some grocery shopping, I thought I’d buy some meat and some vegetables (Lydia informed me she does not like beans....how can you live here and not eat bean is beyond me) I go through my whole “Mercado?” routine to all the bus drivers. I wonder if they get annoyed by me flagging them down, making them stop in busy traffic and then not even getting on.....I don’t think so, they all seem so nice, I really wish I could understand all that “dhjhfsjdsdblah blah” they say as they drive away. I’m sure they’re just wishing me well. I get to the market with the help of an 80 year old lady sitting beside me on the bus. I head to the meat first, once I have meat I’ll know what I’m making. The beef looked a little complicated to work with, a whole cow was cut into about 8 big pieces, and it didn’t look too appetizing. I passed on the beef even though the beef guy was very persistent in trying to sell me some. I moved onto the chicken lady. She had chickens without heads or feathers; I was most pleased and bought a big chunk of chicken breast for 34 pesos (conversion link on the left). From there I wandered over to the vegetable stands and discovered that everything is sold by the kilo, being the great Canadian that I am I have no clue how much a kilo is (I looked it up as soon as I got home...I will be prepared next time) The Spanish that I have is useless to me when the people talk so fast with their heavy Spanish accent, I do know how to count, or I thought I did, they can understand me but I can’t understand them. This goes back to some of my other problems that I have; those of you that know me well are already saying “yes, Mary does not listen so well”. So......I need some cheese, have no idea how many kilos I want, the lady beside me is buy a piece that looks like the right amount for me as well, so I point to her cheese and give a thumbs up signal to the man. (As I’m writing this now I’m thinking how ridicules...thumbs up?!) At the vegetable stand it was a little more complicated, the normal procedure is that you tell the man how many kilos of tomatoes or whatever you want and he takes them and weighs them and puts them in bag and then you pay. So I just started gathering some tomatoes, carrots, onions, peppers, he didn’t seem to mind. I also found some garlic further along, bought some coconut for my yogurt in mornings. Aside from the chicken I can’t remember what this all costs me, next time I go I’ll write down what it cost just for curiosity’s sake. As I’m leaving the market I realize I forgot to buy soap, I had come to the market yesterday to buy soap and had also forgotten. I may have to visit WalMart yet, I’ve told to buy a serge protector, apparently the power of the electricity fluctuates a lot and can blow up my laptop...well, I don’t think it will actually blow up up but it does wreck your battery. This whole little shopping trip took me 2 hours; it’s the waiting for the bus thing that takes so long. There has to be a sheet of paper or something somewhere that tells you which bus goes where...I must find that information soon.
I cooked a very fast chicken stir-fry that was very tasty, garlic bread would have been nice but I hadn’t bought bread...if I have 2 hours to spare tomorrow I might go get some, and soap. Lydia said it was the healthiest meal she has had since she came to Mexico (4 years ago) I could tell she doesn’t cook much, all her cooking utensils were covered in dust when I pulled them out. I don’t mind being the cook, I love cooking and once I know how to talk in complete sentences I think I’ll make a lot of friends at the market. I have a sneaking suspicion that it is not cheaper to buy groceries than eating in restaurants though; I will however research this a little further. If I was in Canada I would seek a government grant to help fund this very important community economic study.

Once again my pictures are on top....isn't that chicken breast massive?

The new WalMart Girl

Mexicans have a habit of asking personal questions when they first met you, it’s a cultural thing. Every Mexican I’ve encountered in the last 3 days has asked me where I’m staying, assuming I’m at a hotel. When I tell them I’m staying with a friend they want to know where, I don’t want every person in Mazatlan to know where I live so I try to skirt around the question without being rude even though I feel they are the ones being rude by asking all these questions. What I would like to tell them is “Not that it is any of your business but I live in Santos Tomas, which is near the Walmart” but I can’t say all that in Spanish so I say “WalMart”. Yup, I’m the WalMart girl, just like in the movie, “Where the heart is” I Just haven’t stolen anything. If I don’t find my own apartment soon I may just go live there. Lydia got a lead on a place that might be available on Stone Island, which is where I wanted to live in the first place, we were going to check it out tonight but now she has to go to a funeral tonight. Not that I don’t mind staying at Lydia’s, she has a beautiful town house in a very upper class Mexican colonia, it’s very clean and safe, we leave the door open all the time. I mean open open not just unlocked. It’s decked out like Candy Cane Lane, people here love Christmas decorations on their roof, there are men on the roofs all day long hanging lights and putting up those blow up things.....lots of blow up things. (Must come from WalMart) It’s a nice place but I would like my own place, just because. Here are some pictures taken in the day, they unplug the blow ups during the day and then they deflate, I’ll get some more pictures in the evening when everything is lit up.

......ok, only one picture, click on it to make it bigger if you want, and it's on top of the page not here on the bottom where it was supposed to be, I have to figure out how this works but for now this will do. This is a lot of work by the way so I hope you all appreciate this. I know I have a lot of grammar and spelling errors but I don't have time to worry about that if I want this to stay up to date.

A new appriciation for bus drivers

So, I didn’t do any walking yet, I rode a lot of buses and I have learned some things. I have learned not to be intimidated by strangers, I know you’re thinking I’m this confident worldy traveler, not afraid of anything or anybody....well, truth is I have always been afraid of getting on a crowed bus and having to sit shoulder to should with total strangers. I never know what proper bus etiquette is, are you expected to greet and make conversation with your seat mate, or are people just wanting to get to work or home from work in some peace an quiet? They may have worked all day, or all night, they’re not all on vacation like me. Or is it rude to not introduce your self and make conversation? So I have always tried to sit in an empty row by my self and just minding my own business but today my business became other peoples business as well. I am after all like a 2 year old now, I cannot speak in full sentences (yet) and I don’t know which bus goes where and to make things even more complicated Lydia, whom I am staying with for now lives in a new colonia, it is so new nobody knows where it is. When I tell the bus drivers I want to go to Santos Tomas they look at me like I’m, well.....a moose or something. Luckily Santos Tomas is directly in front of Mazatlan’s newest and most prized landmark, Mazatlanecos are very proud of it, and make sure they tell you about it, which surprises me that Santos Tomas did not become famous when it was built, it is WalMart, yes we have a big new shiny WalMart, and I live right in front of it. When I get on a bus I ask the bus driver “WalMart?” in a question like tone, because I don’t how to say “is this bus going to WalMart?” When I was at the church this morning getting a bus to come home the bus had WalMart written in white marker on the window, most do have the destinations written on their window, this is most helpful to me, but not all do. That particular one must have disappeared into that hole where the good buses fall into when you never see them again. Later when I wanted to go from my house (WalMart) to the market to buy some groceries (I was planning on cooking supper) I waited and waited for a bus that had market written o n it but none did, so after a while I would ask the bus driver “merchado” in my question tone, finally a wonderful bus driver says “yes, Mercado” so I get on, find a seat in the middle of the bus by my self, trying to look out the window looking for familiar landmarks so I know where to get off. Finally the bus driver stops, turns around, looks right at me and points for me to get off.....how nice is that? I always thought bus drivers kinda drive in a daze, not remembering who gets on or off. Turns out they love their job, and pay attention to each and every passenger and their needs, I hope they have bus driver appreciation day here. So I finish at the market, shopping for my very first meal (tell ya about it later...I have pictures too) Now I need to get back to WalMart again, so again I wait for that bus that had WalMart written on the window, it doesn’t come, it’s still in the hole. So again I ask the bus drivers “WalMart” they say no, no, no, the whole time there’s a gentleman leaning against a wall beside me not saying a word or even looking at me, I thought he was asleep. Just when I thought all the buses in Mazatlan had passed me, which is impossible because there is a never ending supply of buses in Mexico, I don’t know where they all come from, but they just keep coming and coming, sleeping man wakes up and flags down a bus and asks the bus driver “blah blah blah ... ,blah WalMart” bus driver says “blah blah blah si WalMart” I’m thinking “this guy lives at WalMart too” he steps aside and ushers me on, and leans against his wall again, when I looked out window as we were driving away he was sleeping again. This time I sit beside a lovely lady but now I can’t see out the window, so I greet the lady “Buenos nochas, WalMart?” she smiles says “Buenos nochas, si WalMart” and lets me now when we get there. I love these people! Bus drivers are soon going to wonder why I am travelling back and forth from WalMart 8 times a day.

The Canadian moose arrives in Mazatlan

I arrived safe and sound in Mazatlan but certainly not without incident. My plane had come from Phoenix the night before and had sat at the Edmonton airport all night. We were idling down the runway when we suddenly stopped, for a very long time. Apparently there were some parts that were frozen even though the pilot told us he had started it early and let it warm up longer than usual but being a desert plane it could not deal with the cold....I can relate. So back to the gate where some mechanic did his magic but of course by then we had idled away 2 hours worth of fuel so we had to refuel and by now it was snowing and we had to de-ice, meanwhile I missed my connecting flight in Phoenix. So the airline put me on a later flight and I asked “has my luggage been informed of the flight change as well?” The lady said “don’t worry your luggage always follows you” hah.....it does.....but a day later. So I arrive wearing long black pants, a t-shirt that I’ve already worn for 2 days, wool socks in closed toe hiking sandals and a black hoody and a heavy knitted wool sweater that would keep an Eskimo quite toasty.....yup..I now have a new travelling rule (new to me) always have an extra change of clothes in your carry on. I know the experienced worldly travelers have been saying that to us newbi travelers forever...do I listen? noooo. I will now, it was 27C this morning at 9 am when my black pants and I were having breakfast.....and no, I did not race to the beach as I had planned, I would have looked like a retard.

The next morning after my favourite breakfast of huevos Mexicana (look it up, I’m not going to explain everything to you) and cafe con creama....yes real cream, none of this 2% or 10% or even 18%......100%, so good....hey, don’t be shaking your head at me and I know you’re imagining how cute I’ll look coming home...needing 2 seats to accommodate my creama lovin body, I can totally justify this, I walk lots and lots when I am here....well, not today or yesterday, but I will....soon. Anyway, after breakfast I stopped at the church where I will be doing some volunteer work to meet with the volunteer coordinator, Kathy. We decided I would head to Casa Damasco (link on the left of this page) with a lady named Bobbie tomorrow. I have agreed to help out there as much as I can, what exactly I will be doing there I will find out tomorrow. I pray that God will lead me and use me in some amazing way so that I can make a difference in these people’s lives. God will really have to talk to me in a very loud voice and lead me with a very heavy hand because I have no idea what I am doing or what I have gotten myself into. You all thought I left High Level with a plan, didn’t you, haha, I have no plan. (Except having cafe con creama every morning.)

While I’m at the church I need to use the bathroom, I could not use the toilet in the office because you need a bucket of water to flush the toilet and they were out of water so I go across the street to the church part (separate from the office) as I go into the bathroom stall I smash...yes smash, not hit, my head on the door. The Mexican people are for the most part shorter people and in the past they built their buildings accordingly, so most old building have lower doors that do not accommodate this Canadian moose very well, I had my sunglasses on top of my head which went flying into the .......oh you know where, the toilet. After I discovered that my head was in fact still intact, and I still had teeth, I proceeded with the unpleasant task ahead of me.....I couldn’t leave them there!

From there I head of to meet Jackie, the “champion” of the school that I will be teaching at. My champion is my “go to” person at the school. The FOM (link on the left of the page) sponsor 6 schools in Mazatlan, these are all schools that are located in poor colonias (neighbourhoods) of Mazatlan. Of the 6 one of them is located in Fransico Madero, known as the tolerance zone, this is a colonia where the local authorities look the other way at any criminal activity, they feel that if it stays in one area it will not seep into the rest of the city and it is working. The city of Mazatlan is for the most part, taking some normal precautions very safe, except for Franisco Madero. Guess who is the new grade 3 English teacher there...yup, me. I start on Thursday; I was given my curriculum and lessons today. Am I scared? Nope....I believe there is a reason why I was chosen to be there, I just hope that reason will be revealed to me soon....would be nice if it was before Thursday. I am comforted though, I am reading a great book (thank-you Pastor Ray) it’s called “Chasing Dragons”, it had been given to my friend Lydia 4 days before I got here, she hadn’t even read it yet, I spied it on her book shelf about 10 minutes after I walked in.....coincidence? Not! It’s all about trusting God in situations where you don’t have clue or a plan of any kind.....sound like some we know?