RIP Hannah

Today we said "goodbye" to Hannah, a.k.a. Hannah Banana. She was rescued off the streets of Sacramento with her friend Harrison. Harrison only lasted a few weeks, then passed due to a tumor. You could tell she missed him. She would suddenly wag her tail and march outside in a futile attempt to find him. 

She eventually became our most loyal dog. Always wondering where we were and wanting to be with us. When we adopted our dog Waylon, she made it clear that she was in charge. He still has an injury on the side of his head from when she kicked his ass.

She was a great travel dog. On our long 4-day road trip from San Francisco to Guanajuato, she was a trooper – resting calmly and comfortably in the car and eagerly exploring each rest stop. Unlike the other two dogs, who were terribly anxious.

When we adopted her, they told us they thought she was 6, that would have made her 11. But vets since then have told us she seemed older. We tried for a few days to keep her going, but she couldn't fight the infection. She was a good girl and a tough, old, broad, and we miss her.

Vacu nación

I've been told by family that in the U.S. they're giving away vaccines like candy right now, and few people are taking them. You can even choose what vaccine you want – and you might win a bunch of money. Here in Mexico, things are different, and the vaccines are still being rolled out to different age groups.

For the most part, though, things are moving ahead steadily and efficiently. Mexico has public health care, but it isn't exactly the kind of public health care you get in the UK or Canada. Still, for basic stuff, its fine and free. If you get a serious disease (like you need a respirator because you have COVID serious), and you aren't wealthy, you probably have a much better chance of dying than if you lived in many "advanced" countries. Perhaps that's why so many Mexicans want the vaccine, and there is far less reluctance here than up north.

There is a system to register online, and the vaccines have been made available throughout the country. In Guanajuato, they started vaccinating people age 40-49 this month. We finally got our first shot this week, and here's how it went down ...

People were encouraged to download their vaccination form from the registration site. The three locations in the capital were publicized in the days before vaccines would be made available. We opted for the Centro Acuático location – a facility with indoor swimming pools, as well as a few outdoor playing fields. It is a bit above the dense part of the City, and we thought it would be difficult for a lot of Guanajuatenses to get there, since a lot of folks don't have cars here. That may have been true, but we didn't drive by the other locations to check. 

There were plenty of people at the Centro Acuático anyway, including a number of folks arriving by bus and taxi. A line outside formed a long, compressed "s" in front of the gate. There were maybe 150 people waiting. We walked up to the end and looked around, wondering how long it would take, and comparing our appearance to the other 40-somethings standing around. Or at least, that's what I was doing: Do they have more or fewer wrinkles, more or fewer grey hairs; are their clothes equally wrinkled?

The line moved quickly. They took 72 at a time, for some reason. 

A camouflage hummer arrived with Mexican military dudes. The military is helping with the distribution of the vaccine here. I'm really not sure how. These guys just kind of stood around. But their presence was oddly reassuring – this was the real deal, they weren't going to just be giving out expired vaccines and asking for bribes.

Within about 40 minutes we were through the front gate. We walked through a parking lot, and passed a woman giving out numbers – she probably had only as many numbers as available vaccines – they didn't seem to determine any order to receiving the shot. We continued beyond a rock-climbing wall, to sit in some bleachers facing a playing field. Then our group of 72 was moved to a second set of bleachers at an adjacent field. Finally, we were directed to the big show.

It was simple and well organized. A young woman at a folding table, set out on a tennis court, took my form and filled out the brand – "Pfizer" – and some other information. She struggled to tear it in half – kept one part and handed me the other (I would need that when I returned for my second shot, I was told). She then directed me to a different table, where a different young woman stabbed me with a needle about 20 seconds later. Holding a cotton ball against my wound, I was then directed to an area where we were told to sit for fifteen minutes. There appeared to be some medical personnel around, and an ambulance was parked outside, so I think they were ready for any medical emergencies. But I felt fine; and we were done.

I almost enjoyed it, or at least felt compelled to write down what I remembered. I felt a sense of community as we walked out of the Centro Acuático, among hundreds of people I did not know, most of whom grew up in a different country, with a different culture. Women, men, people with disabilities, and most, I judged, with more wrinkles and grey hair than I – we were all at risk, and all willing to wait our turn, and then line up together to do something about it. A year-and-a-half on lockdown, and most people hadn't lost hope. Indeed, many of us had gained something: an appreciation of our loved ones, yes, but an appreciation even beyond our immediate friends and family. Those of us who hadn't doubled down on our individualism and distrust had learned, or had this reinforced: We are all in this together.

Covid Contemplation

Twenty-twenty was basically fine until March. Hell, we even had hopes for a Bernie Sanders presidency that first quarter. Then the virus hit and we started searching around for masks. My first was made by my husband, and looks pretty silly in retrospect. I can't believe I wore it out of the house. We've come so far in that respect. But we didn't think we'd have to at that point. We thought, maybe we'll have a summer, then maybe we'd visit family for Thanksgiving, and now, in 2021, again, maybe we'll have a summer. Time is ticking, and although people are getting vaccinated, a lot of people are still dying.

We also transitioned, awkwardly, from President Trump to President Biden. That is a positive development, even if Trump's horribleness was overstated by liberals and Biden's horribleness understated. For me, the idea was never that we could push Biden to the left, as much as it was that Trump was courting and empowering the right in ways a Biden administration never would. We shouldn't have any illusions about Biden; but even if his victory was not a victory for the left, Trump's loss was clearly a loss for the right.

Post Trump is weird. Liberals can relax again, instead of suffering in (what they imagined was) Trump's totalitarian hellscape. Biden is doing plenty of bad stuff, but he doesn't tweet stupid stuff, or mock anyone. He appears competent, like a CEO of a large corporation, or the author of a book about cars who's independently wealthy. The right turned their bigotry into a festival of rage for a few weeks, then they refused to wear masks in supermarkets, then they disappeared into parlour or something. 

Leftists are all over the place. Some have balanced their righteous anti-imperialism and working-class fervor with  outrage over "cancel culture" and "wokeness." Mostly, I think, we're all hyper-online; maybe some of us are unemployed. Anyway, that certainly makes it easy to complain. If enough people complain, some companies might decide not to publish something, or may even pressure someone to resign. That is cancel culture. Really nothing new, just amplified by social media and more accessible to ordinary people. Wokeness seems to be, caring about identity-based justice, beyond, simply, condemning obvious bigotry. The problem with the leftists complaining about these concepts is they tend to equate corporations, establishment politicians, prominent universities, and the like, wielding these tools, with ordinary people, poor people, working people, oppressed people, doing the same.

Other leftists are rightly focused on violence inflicted on poor people and people of color by police, the border patrol, and employers like Amazon.com; also growing calls to waive patent rules for vaccines, among other things.

Speaking of vaccines, I realized I've spent more time in Mexico under quarantine than not. My country-specific, quarantine observations are that Americans are more resistant to masks, social distancing, and vaccines than Mexicans. But there was plenty of that here as well, though a lot of Mexicans had no choice but to leave their homes and try to survive. As a much poorer country, Mexico had very high death rates, even when people went to the hospital (some never did). Still, outside of the hospital system, which I've yet to have any experience with, I saw a lot of positives: mask wearing, even outside; schools closed; restaurants, stores, and places of public accommodation imposed limits and requirements; and testing became widely available. Vaccines are being rolled out slower than in the U.S., but more rapidly than in many parts of the world. I'm hoping I'll get my first shot sometime in May.

We were lucky. We brought our car, which is not necessary here as you can get everything you need walking into town, or for certain items, by having them delivered. Our house here also has a decent-sized garden, unlike most homes here. Unlike many similarly sized cities in the U.S., Guanajuato is fairly dense, so for epidemiological purposes, it felt riskier to just take a walk here than it might in the suburban sprawl of many cities up north. But we could always get outside in our garden, or drive to some open space for a hike.

Just before the pandemic, in February of last year, we visited our first archaeological site in Guanajuato: Peralta. Throughout the pandemic, then, we've visited three more. For the most part, you can't get to these places by bus. You might be able to take a taxi or Uber, though it would likely be expensive. If you don't have a car, the best thing might be to hire a guide who could drive you, or find a friend with a car who also wants to go. But with the pandemic, those options also expose you to hours in a car (likely closed in, as it was often warm/hot outside). JC and I could go on a whim.

Most people think of Mayan ruins in the Yucatan, Teotihuacan outside of Mexico City, or possibly Monte Alban in Oaxaca, when they think about archaeological sites in Mexico. However, there are five sites excavated and open to the public within the state of Guanajuato. Incredible to me, because there isn't much of this in the U.S. - maybe they were destroyed, or yet to be uncovered. I visited cliff dwellings as a boy and I've read about the various mounds in the U.S., but pyramids, playing courts, and temples? One of the things I like about Mexico is its celebration of, and close connection to, its indigenous past. Even its flag has its origins in Aztec legend. The U.S., on the other hand, feels much more identified with whiteness. The U.S. is actually a much more diverse country, but institutionally, anything other than white, protestant, ideals register. I think a lot about how brainwashed I was growing up in Texas. The simple truth - that Texas independence was largely, though not entirely, motivated by the desire to own slaves - was never talked about in grade school, and considered almost sacrilegious in college.

Of course, I still feel more American than Mexican (not ethnically, but it still feels more like home up there); and I miss California and Texas. But at the moment, I'm enjoying my time here. Maybe I'll stay forever.

Running El Orito (and driving there and back)

Not that I was always out and about before, but since we're in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic, I've been spending a lot more time at home. But I'm still running. I've been trying for once every 5 days, and I've settled on a natural area in Guanajuato called "El Orito" as my "go-to" spot.

It's on the other side of town, so I have to get there by car. I drive towards the city center along Pastita Creek, under an old aqueduct, and by the local baseball stadium. The aqueducts - in pieces in a few spots around town - were used to bring water to the city, but in particular to bring them to the haciendas working on the materials brought from the many mines in the area. Pastita Creek flows through an urban canyon, as you drive along it you can look left and right and see the narrow roads and alleys stretching away and up the hillsides. I continue and get a glimpse of the Las Embajadoras plaza to my left - the park normally full of families is still busier than it probably should be during a pandemic, but still noticeably sparse. I pass the small hole-in-the-wall peluquería (barber shop) I used to visit every three weeks for a trim - now opting to make a horrible mess in my bathroom by cutting my own hair. The little shop opens to the street and I can see that it is surprisingly busy. I notice the barbers are not wearing masks.

Just beyond I turn right into a tunnel. Guanajuato is known for its tunnels. As I understand it, they were originally built to move water under and around the City, which was previously prone to flooding. Then some greater engineering feats directed the water away from the City and the tunnels were opened up for vehicles. Anyway, this part of the drive goes through a series of tunnels. In the brief openings to sunlight, you can look to your left and see the dome tops of churches and the main basilica in the Centro. When you finally emerge entirely from the tunnels, you're hit with one of the many traffic circles in town. Figuring out who has the right of way in the circles, or glorietas, is often an art form.

There is a second, larger, glorieta before you turn off the main road, and wind your way up through a residential area, and eventually along a driveway like path to what appears to be the entryway of an abandoned, planned community. It could have been called Valenciana Heights, or something, but the developers ran out of money before a single home was built. The entryway, with what might have been intended as a guard booth is a decent place to park and stretch, though I rarely see other runners parked there.

One of the first things you notice when you park here and prepare to enter the natural area is cow turds. You get the feeling you are entering a ranch, rather than a park; and you eventually realize that the area is, indeed, used for cattle grazing.

The main trail through the park is more of a dirt road, and there is often a car or two, maybe a motorcycle or two, using the road to get to a picnic area, or possibly one of a few private properties adjoining the distant parts of the park. My usual starting place has a barrier preventing cars, but not motorcycles, from entering. The road is rocky, and I've ordered a pair of trail running shoes in hopes they will shield the bottoms of my feet better from sharp, protruding rocks. There are views of the City or of Templo la Valenciana in one or two spots, but mostly the view is of hillsides up, canyons down, and along the way, cacti, mesquite trees, and thorny bushes. The main trail is also fairly level, following, roughly, the same elevation, but curving along hillsides.

My run includes a much rougher trail that goes out and back from the main road, towards the nearby community that is possibly called Santa Ana, sitting adjacent to the Presa de la Soledad. I have run all the way up this rough trail to the paved road going into this community, but that was a bit much for me to repeat; at least regularly. The part I do run, quickly climbs up, and twists and turns along a creek where my god-son and I found a huge field of rock crystals - maybe quartz? - while exploring one afternoon. This trail catches a lot of rain water, and so it is also full of one and two foot deep chasms that would twist your foot off your ankle if you weren't careful. For quite a stretch, the brush is short and the trail moves away from the shadows of the surrounding hills, meaning that it is a brutal, upward, slog through the hot sun, dodging various hazards before you get to turn back.

I turn back at a small, flat area that appears to be used for the occasional hiking break area, and watering hole for wild animals, cattle, and horses; it is flanked by that creek and covered with a decent amount of shade. All the way back down, my knees take a beating, but the rest of the run is just about endurance. On one run, at this point, I came across a rancher moving his cattle along the narrowest part of this path. No big deal, except, I did not know how tame those cows were, some had horns and maybe they were bulls, and I had my dog with me. I stopped my run, held my dog close to me, and carefully walked down the trail. Main thing - I didn't want to freak out any horned animals; and I succeeded. Plenty of people walk through the park with their dogs, and the cows appear used to them.

Back on the main road/trail, I continue on.

At one turn, several big, beautiful, agave plants mark the area. Further along, you start to see some infrastructure: old picnic tables and park equipment; some still usable. You may start to see some families enjoying the shade of a mesquite, if not picking some of the mesquite beans to eat. I often pass the same man and boy, probably his son. The man is on horseback and the boy on a donkey. Depending on the time of day, they are either riding towards nature or towards town. A lot of people use this trail to commute - it is a kind of shortcut between two parts of town if you're on foot or on a bicycle, and many people also walk up to or down from the Presa de la Soledad area.

At the other end of the main trail is a more built up area, with a church and various businesses nearby. It is here where I see more locals walking into the park to exercise, and parking their cars to stretch and go for a jog. And sometimes I start from here as well, but I find the other end of the park a better place to rest and look over the town.

From there, I reverse course back to where I began, passing some of the same people and cows I passed before. Perhaps I'll see a roadrunner or two, or some Inca doves - definitely plenty of lizards and red wasps.

The drive home is different, since there are many one-way streets and tunnels, you can't go back the way you came. Ever. It was trying to get back home that forced me to learn some shortcuts through the tunnels. The tunnels aren't just short spans that connect one side of a hill to the other; they have intersections (no stop signs) and branch off in various directions. One way to get home from El Orito, is to drive through one of the subterranean roads that cuts through the heart of Guanajuato. In some areas, it is open to the air above, and the backs of buildings have been suspended over the roadway, possibly held up only with some, hopefully, sturdy wood planks. Eventually you turn into a fully-enclosed route, then turn left at a 4-way intersection, then right, then stay right at the Y, then right again, and finally out to the fresh air of a glorieta, simply to go almost completely around it, turned in the opposite direction, and back into a long tunnel, emerging not far from the baseball stadium mentioned before.

Guanajuato is not a big city; some might even call it a town. But it is dense, and can be hectic. The drive to and from El Orito can be smoggy, full of traffic - buses, police roadblocks, stray dogs, and pedestrians - and also confusing. My run is a welcome escape from the city, without driving miles away from the city in search of nature.

With Sanders Out, Is There A Good Reason to Vote for the Democrat in November?

The Sanders campaign finally came to an end, so there was no longer any argument to make about waiting to see what happens, or that there were still a lot of delegates to go; the only argument that remains in presidential politics, left of Fox News, is: "We Must Beat Trump," and "What About the Supreme Court?" I can't say my advice would be to vote 3rd party or just not vote, but I find it really difficult to publicly support, or even cast a ballot for the Establishment - and that is what Joe Biden represents.

I know, there is no Establishment. But, maybe we have different definitions. I don't believe the Establishment is the center of a grand conspiracy, and I don't believe its members meet in one secret location. It is simply the reflection of concentrated power in American politics. Bernie Sanders, although a U.S. senator, nevertheless built a campaign of diffuse power - lots of small donations from nurses, teachers, Uber drivers, grocery store employees ... you know ... "essential employees." The Establishment is made up of the people and institutions who have the most political power because they have access to material wealth in enormously disproportionate terms. The Establishment is mostly the largest, wealthiest industries that influence policy in Washington, and the politicians and organizations who listen to them and help them execute their agenda. The Sanders campaign railed against many of them - and you knew he meant it. This is incredibly rare for a Senator, or even a Senator's intern's cat's vet.

In the end, you can write all kinds of think pieces about why Sanders failed to win big enough early on to justify staying in this race, but if one steps back, it is kind of amazing he made it as far as he did. His campaign harshly criticized - and in some cases made it clear that President Sanders would implement policies that would do great harm to - insurance companies, pharmaceutical companies, healthcare companies, defense companies, petro-chemical companies, Wal-Mart, Amazon, billionaires in general. In short, Sanders and his campaign made pretty much every powerful enemy one could make in this country.

If you think those powerful enemies were just sitting on the periphery twiddling their thumbs, and that the DNC and corporate media were just playing a fair game in the middle of all of this, then you are the dumbest person who ever lived. Are you a baby?

Then there is Joe Biden. As I say, the Establishment isn't as coordinated as it would like, and I suspect many of those within that world did not have him as their main choice for beating back Sanders and taking the nomination. But he seems particularly ill-suited for this moment.

Even before we were all locked in our homes, and morgues were above capacity, there was a crisis brewing. The economy was not, and is not, working for most people, especially younger people who have plenty of debt but don't own homes or have pensions. Australia was on fire, and much of the rest of the world was alternating between devastating fires and receding coastlines. Migration was increasingly criminalized, and ...

Oh yeah, what about the kids in cages? I'm glad liberals and centrists pay attention to such things when someone they don't like is in power, but there were children in cages when Obama was president, and if Biden, or some corporate Dem who takes his place before November, becomes president, there will be children in cages still. The argument here comes down to minimizing harm. If we elect the Democrat, there will be less suffering. And, who can argue with less suffering?

But, honestly, the water is pretty muddy here. Most notably, what about the long-term damage caused by letting the Democratic Party reset to its moderate position? The Republican Party is a lost cause, so for those of us who care about human rights and the planet, all we have as far as official, US politics is concerned, is the Democratic Party. Say what you will about Joe Biden, his party remains the political party of AOC and Ilhan Omar, and I can't imagine them existing in the Republican Party. But, if the Democratic Party is moving rightward with a Biden nomination, why give them a vote of confidence. If we overwhelmingly go out and vote for Biden, why would the never-Sanders Establishment feel the need to lift a finger for the things we care about ("we" meaning the people who want universal healthcare and a green new deal, but aren't into imperialism). Even if Biden were marginally better than Trump in the short-term, is a victory for him essentially like taking one step forward and two steps back?

Well maybe if we're talking about the meta-struggle between the left and right wings of the Democratic Party and the effect that a victory for one would have on politics long-term, but the Supreme Court throws a wrench in everything. Supreme Court justices serve for life, and that is pretty long-term. That is decades in which quite a bit could change, but the same, crusty, Trump-appointed majority could be derailing any positive change enacted by President Ocasio-Cortez's successor.

Sadly, this is a tough one. It is, probably the most compelling reason for me to vote Democrat (if I lived in a swing state). But, there are two major problems with it.

First, it is not new, and it is always, conveniently, an urgent matter. Perhaps if, some day, progressives have a solid 6 or 7 justices on the Court, all in their 30's, we won't hear this argument anymore; but there is always a chance that one or more progressive justices are going to die or retire, and there is always a reason to ensure that the Court doesn't move in the conservative direction, even by a single justice. So there will always be a reason for centrists and the Democratic Establishment to shame the left as they put forward another third-way, conservative by global standards, careerist, as our only hope to stop fascism. It is an argument I've heard all my life, especially when Ralph Nader was running promising campaigns with the Green Party. If you have any hope of political change by electoral means, this argument will always be the cudgel for the status quo - so either stop caring about that kind of change or ignore this argument.

The second problem with the Supreme Court argument, is that it is uninspiring. It's the old, "Vote Your Hopes, Not Your Fears," in reverse. And yes, I'm familiar with the retort: "the Supreme Court makes life or death decisions for millions of people, so fuck you if you need to be inspired." But the inspiration I'm talking about is not the tingly feeling you get when you see a good movie, or the awe you feel when you see someone on the street you've only seen before on TV. I mean the inspiration you feel when you see a path to a better world.

It is a feeling I had for a couple of weeks when Sanders was doing well; it's also a feeling I've had whenever I witness, or am part of, a powerful movement for social change - the Arab Spring, Occupy Wall Street, Black Lives Matter, for example. I've never met Bernie Sanders. He seems like a genuinely decent person, which was a big part of his appeal. But I could care less if he became president, or a half-eaten bag of potato chips became president, if it meant that someone (or something) was going to fight for policies (and their corresponding values) I care about from a position of political power. I could care less about the person running, if I thought their victory might bring incredible, positive political change. That's the inspiration I'm talking about - the feeling one gets when they feel that something could improve in a big, sweeping way, not just for them but for millions if not billions of people. That inspiration is so rare; and it doesn't come in the form of "vote against someone who will appoint bad justices to the Supreme Court (and will likely succeed in doing so even if the Democratic Party wins back the Senate)."

So, yes, if you live in a swing state, you should probably vote for the Democrat in November. But here's the inspiring message for a possible Biden (or Cuomo?) win: He will be terrible, as expected, but they generally all are. I have thoughts about why meaningful protests have not been very successful with Trump in power. One of those thoughts is that a lot of us feel somewhat powerless as it seems unlikely such protests would have much effect on his administration. Like an undisciplined child, he seems to not distinguish between good attention and bad attention. With a Democrat in the White House, especially the typical kind who care about their legacy, or something, activists have no excuse. The two biggest American social movements post-Iraq war - Occupy Wall Street and Black Live Matter - happened when Obama was in office.

Ultimately, that is probably the best argument for voting Democrat 98% of the time - they suck and they don't really care about you, but they care about looking like they care about you, and Republicans do not. Centrist Democrats can be more easily shamed into doing what is right, in spite of their membership in the Establishment club.

But damn, we could have had one who really cared.

To Mexico

It started awhile ago. No, maybe further back than that even. But the day JC insisted we could, nay should, move to Mexico right away, is a good place to start. We both agreed we wanted to move to Mexico - likely Guanajuato - but I was initially skeptical that we should do it so soon. "Let's be sensible. Let's include it in a 10 year, or maybe 5 year plan," I argued as I started to google "houses in Guanajauto for sale." I realized this was possible, and if JC was this motivated, I had no excuse for putting it off. I felt I'd love to live in Mexico - I really wanted to become bilingual, and connect with my roots. It was close enough to easily get to friends and family for occasional visits - and for them to get to me - but still quite different, in mostly positive ways. I mean, Canada is close, but a little too much like the USA.

So, it happened. Or, it's happening. And, it has been incredibly difficult.

Oddly, the first issue that caused me great consternation was what to do about our three remaining chickens. Over the past few years, we had adopted chickens, and although we lost a few over time, we had three that could live for years still. Sure, we could grab them by the head and twirl them around vigorously until their heads snapped off, as I understand is a common practice on small farms and such; but we really loved those birds. So, we found them a good home, we think, and continued on our path.

Far more significant is leaving behind our friends, but in particular, our one close friend who is still too young to do things like get his own passport and buy a plane ticket to visit us in Mexico. If it was not the first issue that caused me great consternation, it is only because I felt that our friend, and my mentee, FP, had grown quite a bit and, unlike chickens, could call, text, and recognize that the future would be different from the present and the past. Yet, spending time with a kid every week for three years, and then leaving for a foreign country, could still be pretty jarring.

But there was a twist. After making the decision to move to Mexico, specifically Guanajuato, we found out that FP's family is from Guanajuato! Not, specifically, Guanajuato City, but the state nonetheless; and not that far from our new home. So we're there for him to visit, when he can; and, as much as possible, we are on our computers or smart phones whenever he'd like to text or play roblox (is it ok for someone in their 40's to play roblox?).

Moving anywhere is not easy. It is not really a choice for most people most of the time. Or, at least, to the extent people choose to move, there are a lot of reasons beyond their control that strongly encourage that move. And, their choice itself is very limited in scope and direction. Of course, that was true for us as well - all of it - but as a matter of degree, I recognize that we largely chose to move to a foreign country, and a beautiful town, and that move has been empowered by a certain amount of privilege that most people don't have. As I write, a lot of people are being crammed into concentration camps who are trying to move in the other direction across the US/Mexico border. As difficult as our move has been, reflecting on what these people have been through makes me feel incredibly lucky (if not a little ashamed).

What's happening at the border is part of a frightening political climate in the U.S. Not to say that all of politics in the U.S. is frightening, just that the increasing demonization and abuse of immigrants is part of ascendant right-wing politics; and it exists in the U.S., probably, more than most other countries in this hemisphere. But I am not moving to Mexico to escape this; indeed, I see an ascendant left as well. And that is reason enough to stay. But life is short right?

I have lived in San Francisco for fifteen years. It is an amazing and beautiful city, but sometimes a really difficult place to live, especially if you're not rich. On the one hand, I feel I've benefited from the people who came before to fight for a place that provided more humanity to its residents than many other places, but on the other hand, I've been caught in the difficult pressures of a city that has more billionaires per capita than any other city on the planet. So, I have been able to live in San Francisco, and even prosper a little; but now I'm able to take that prosperity and make the choice to move away - and (probably) be ok.

To reiterate though, and with acknowledgement of my relative privilege, it has not been easy. First we had to figure out the byzantine Mexican property and real estate laws that required years of study, first mastering Spanish, and then the many statutes and legal opinions. Or perhaps I'm misremembering. On second thought, we trusted the agent we found with the best website in Guanajuato City, who also happened to be representing the sellers, somehow. Gerardo, actually turned out to be worthy of a lot of trust and good karma, and he somehow helped both us and the sellers get a good deal! That seems sarcastic, but in retrospect, I think he did. The family that sold us their house did not get exactly what they wanted, but likely got more than the house was worth on paper. We paid a bit more than the house was worth on paper, but we got a great house that the family would probably not have sold to anyone else for less; at least not anytime soon. It's a unique place - with plenty of yard for our dogs - an uncommon feature in Guanajuato.

Speaking of dogs, getting down to Guanajuato ultimately required that we either give away two of our three dogs, have them euthanized, or drive from San Francisco to Central Mexico with three dogs in a hatchback. Our dogs are family, so it was not an easy decision. Ultimately, we packed them in the car - giving them more space than the amount reserved for humans and their belongings - and we drove for four days with them on board. Compounding the challenge was our vegetarianism. Taco bell and Subway was generally the easiest quick stop for nourishment without consuming flesh. Two or three times, we ate our seven-layer burritos, and then fed the dogs their dinner in a fast-food parking lot. Shockingly, there were no Taco Bells in Mexico that we could find, but cheese, crackers and granola bars kept us moving.

Among other adventures, a two lane highway appeared to get us around Los Angeles ten minutes quicker during rush hour, but appearances can be deceiving. Right fucking Google maps?!?! Everything was going fine until we were forced off the main road onto side roads - mostly made of dirt; and some quite rugged - due to some police activity of some sort. As we drove along to where I thought we could turn and get back on the main highway, a woman, not wearing any sort of law enforcement outfit, and in a tight-fitting, t-shirt, top, directed us to continue on the dirt road straight ahead. Why should we do what this lady says? Is this a scam? Was she directing us to some off-the-road diner that rarely gets this much traffic? We still don't know for sure, though we saw no diners. Turns out there was some bad accident on the main road; forcing all traffic onto the dusty side roads.

Then there were our "dogs allowed" hotels. Most had a two dog limit, so that made me nervous; and all had a no dog pee on the carpets or beds policy, so that also made me nervous. At one, the sign out front said to check in at the restaurant, and the cook kindly asked me to wait until he finished with the cheesesteak he was making, before assisting me. At another, our smallest dog made a run for it, but found only yards and yards of floral-patterned carpet as she set off at full speed, probably in search of the home we left behind; which I'm sure she assumed was just around the corner or something.

Our first day driving into Mexico was one of few expectations, because we had no idea what to expect. Various websites and blogs all had contradictory information, and immigration and border-crossing laws, policies, and practices are ever evolving - on both sides of the border. Nobody on the U.S. side seemed to care about people leaving. On the Mexican side, we stopped at the immigration office, but could not leave the dogs in the car out in the hot sun, alone. So, after three hours of switching places, waiting in various lines, and getting various documents stamped, we finally had time to change our hotel reservation, since there was no way we were making it to Torreon that night. One last thing, we had to get through the customs inspection. How long would that take? As it turned out, about 20 seconds. A friendly, female agent, had us open the back of the car, seemed unphased by the dogs scream-barking at her, looked at a couple of things, and then sent us on our way.

The roads in Mexico were generally fine - as long as you stayed on the toll roads. In fact 60% were better than the U.S. roads; 30% were about the same; and 10% were far worse. But it was generally pretty smooth. Except for one thing. Is there an unusual amount of static electricity on the roads in Mexico. JC shocked almost every toll booth agent he handed pesos to. One was grateful, as she previously suffered an irregular heartbeat.

And then we made it to our new home. I actually have had to go back to SF for various reasons, and we're still waiting to wrap up some things, but for all intents and purposes, we live here now. We'll see how it goes.

Xmas in Texmas

I had a load of fun with my cousins. We saw them on Easter, and at random times when visiting my mom's mom. And we always saw them on Christmas Eve. Mom and dad packed up all the gifts they bought for the kids, along with a dish or two of food, and we made the trip across Corpus Christi to my grandmother's house. We switched some years actually, and it would be at an aunt's house, and once or twice at our house.

I remember it being very cold some years - like below 30 - and fairly warm some years - like in the 70's at night. When we arrived at our destination, we would help unload the wrapped gifts and place them under a tree. Multiple families and multiple kids, plus a few gifts for the adults, made for a very full tree. Then there was the food. Pan de polvo and other sweets. Tamales, sometimes made with deer from a recent hunting trip, were always part of the spread. Chips and queso dip in a crock pot also. Maybe some cheesy rice or something like that. You'd kind of just eat all night. There might be a Christmas-themed movie on the television, then later we'd monitor Santa's progress. The local meteorologist would provide regular updates, I guess because Santa was in the sky where the weather was.

I caught up with my cousins. They might have a new video game to show me - I really did not like Street Fighter and would always lose because I didn't know the secret moves. Someone might have fireworks, since new years was a week away. Hide and seek or some sort of game where we ran around in the dark - I recall something with a flashlight where people were trapped in "jail" until someone else comes to release them - were common, unless it was raining. We'd all be told when we'd be able to open presents - often midnight. In retrospect, I don't know how some of the adults stayed so chipper until then, after hours of food and alcohol. At midnight, then, we'd rip open the gifts, and all disperse. We had to get home before Santa arrived; for some reason the weather person stopped giving updates by then.

Christmas morning, for us anyway, was a walk down the stairs to find unwrapped gifts in front of the fireplace. My brother and I played, and assembled things. Mom and dad downed some coffee and packed for a short trip to the Valley. We'd pick one or two new things to take, and we'd head to McAllen. Mom put Christmas music on the radio, and we kept our eyes open for wildlife. Well, not just wild, it was also a treat to see the cows grazing.

We arrived in McAllen for my dad's side of the family's Christmas. Honestly, this part was somewhat boring for me. I always thought of McAllen as a sad, hot, humid, place with foul-tasting tap water. I'm just being honest, but I understand that I was young. I actually know very little of the place besides my grandparents house. I knew almost know Spanish, but Spanish soap operas were always on the television. Soap operas were bad enough in English, but that was torture. I did have two cousins down there, but they were girls, and besides a game or two of UNO, we didn't play much. There were often tamales, but also a bunch of gross stuff - cabrito, menudo, and occasionally a whole cow head that my grandfather would pull apart for tacos. I did love the tortillas though. Smaller and thicker than the flour tortillas commonly purchased at stores today - they were always cooked on the comal until they were slightly crisp. Although they were probably already full of lard, we often spread butter on them. They were on the side of each meal, but also eaten occasionally as a snack.

We traded gifts there as well, but by then we were getting a bit numb from all the free stuff, and could feel the the good times winding down. "How many weeks until my birthday?" I'd ask myself.

That was our Christmas tradition for many years. At the time, I assumed everyone did something similar, but I realize now traditions are all over the place just among those who celebrate Christmas. Despite the fact I was sometimes bored, cold, or hot, they were good memories.