Red, Red Wine

So, I'm not a wine snob.  I'm pretty far from it considering I don't drink wine often and considering I'm cheap.  

However, a girl does have standards.

Ever since filling out the "25 Things" on facebook, I've been thinking about a good glass of wine.  I bought a bottle the other night on the way to yoga and wanted to fix it the night I was cooking and jamming to iTunes, but I don't have an opener (Ashley to the rescue in six days!).  The urge passed.  

Tonight, Mabel and I went to a place called La Chuparrosa (The Hummingbird) to hear my friend Diana sing with her group Parque Madero (shameless plug: www.parquemadero.com I've actually never visited the site, so who knows what you'll get!).  I'll give more details on that in the next post (likely Sunday night).  Mabel invited some of her friends.  Marisol (who was at Carlos's birthday party and went with us to Cosalá), her boyfriend Edgar (who lives behind my Oxxo and told Marisol who told Mabel that he had sen me quite often), Elvia (Cosette's godmother who was saying "Me explico" last weekend) and her boyfriend Oscar all came.

Before they got there, Mabel and I ordered a drink each and decided to split a dessert.  I was a very bad girl today, but a slit dessert was better than a whole meal.

I went back and forth between a glass of red wine and an horchata granizada (think an horchata flavored icee).  I went with my weeklong craving of wine.  I got a Merlot, and it was actually the top of the list (which doesn't necessarily mean anything, and there were only three in said list).  The waiter comes out with a white wine glass full (full was the nice part- I got my $4 worth) of red wine.  I can see that the glass is already sweating.  That's right; it was chilled red wine.

What?!

It wasn't terrible, but it was not everything I had hoped it would be.

**On another note, it's funny to me that I've been here long enough that $4 for a glass of wine seems ridiculously expensive!

Mazatlán take 2

Last night, I got a phone call from an English teacher that I had met at my meeting on Thursday, but couldn't place in my mind.  She was going to Mazatlán Saturday with some friends, did I want to go?  Sure!  I have no Saturday plans besides the typical laundry.  That could wait.  She said they'd be coming back on Sunday.  Hmmm.  Had to think about that one.  I have a superbowl party that I've promised to attend.  I asked her to get details on the departure time and get back to me.  Later in the evening, I realized that I could just ride a bus back.  We'd be riding down there in cars and staying at a friend's house, so it was going to be a cheap weekend.  There is no school on Monday (I can't remember the holiday), so many people are taking advantage of the puente (literally bridge, but used as long weekend) and traveling.  I texted her today to say that I really wanted to go and if they were coming back too late not to worry, I could just take a bus.

Done deal.

She called me later with details.  We will leave at 9 am tomorrow (I'm meeting her downtown at 8:30) and they will take me to the bus station on Sunday.  The superbowl coverage starts at 4 our time, so even if I leave Maz at 2 and take the 2 hours to get back, ride the bus to my house and get cleaned up, I will still likely be one of the first to arrive.

But I've been promised good food.  I'll be there with bells on.

**On a side note, I was thinking of being the American and taking some puppy chow, but with minute to minute action until I arrive at the party, I'm thinking it's not going to happen.  Also, as realized in Cozumel, chocolate chips are hard to come by in Mexico (and I think powdered sugar, too).

I loved it and I hated it.

Today, that is.  Yesterday at my meeting, Maribel mentioned to the teachers that she had observed all of them (Mabel told me she had made a visit on Tuesday) except me.  The reason she had saved me was that she had seen me so many times.  She's at my school a lot.  When I told her that we had a meeting at 10:30 on Friday to ask if we could go observe in other schools, she said that would be fine, that we would go after my observation.  This was the first I had heard of it.

Again, observations don't make me nervous really, because every day my first year teaching at Lockeland was like an observation.  I had teachers in my room with every class, but also we had guest visitors to the school almost weekly.  Since Spanish is part of what makes our elementary school unique, the guest visitors would always pass by my room before leaving (and often had many questions for the principal).  

I was not worried about this observation.  However, I had heard Maribel explaining that she couldn't give an "excellent" to anyone because they didn't have the posters put up and all the specific things from a checklist (this is one of those things that would really irk me if I lived here- a checklist that has nothing to do with teaching ability and information learned).  Maribel always arrives early when she comes to my school (much like me, but she often beats me).  Mexican protocol says that even though she's my boss and there for professional reasons, I am to spend that time socially with her- not preparing for my upcoming classes.

This is very opposite of what would happen in Nashville.  If my supervisor came, I would be courteous and polite, but I would also be busy getting things together.  The multi-tasking would be a positive thing in her eyes.  

My feeling, based on her comments to the other teachers regarding a mark of excellent, was that my observation would be a little more critiqued and "official" this time.

Since I had nothing prepared to wow her (since I didn't know until the day before, when I wasn't at school and able to get something together), I did my best to come up with an activity and wanted to get to school early(er) to be ready when Maribel got there to chat.

I must've hit snooze about 4 times this morning, and I blame it on the fact that my alarm clock functions like me: pre-7am shouldn't exist.  (In the US, my equivalent would be pre-6am, but when in Mexico...)  I got out the door and on the very crowded bus around 7:40 (only a few minutes earlier than I get on for a normal 8:50 day).  Add to that the fact that the driver was slow and rough and that it was an air-less bus (it was cool enough outside, but a crowded bus with not much ventilation does not a happy ride make [Bewley are you reading?!  Who ya wit'?]).  I was annoyed when I arrived at 8:20, but my nerves were soon settled upon realizing Maribel had not yet arrived.

I scurried around, made a lesson plan of sorts (an index card with an order of events), and gathered up my materials.  Since there was a special ed meeting in my "office," I went to the office to hang until class time, fully expecting Maribel at any moment.

It came to be class time, and still no Maribel, so I marched on to second grade.  Only they weren't there!  Their bags and things were there, but no children or teacher!

Imagine my surprise.

It turns out they had gone to the tortillería (tortilla shop).  Don't ask me why.  I don't know.  All I know is that it was like entering a classroom after field trip; good luck accomplishing anything.  Still no Maribel.  I began my lesson.  I had a great review with the actual items we were studying (backpack, pencil sharpener, pencil case, etc) and I started by asking them what the item was.  They could relatively easily produce the vocabulary words.  I wrote the sentence on the board: "I have a _________."  They helped me finish the sentence for each item that I did, in fact, have.  There were about 3 words for which I did not have the realia.  That led to the next teaching sentence: "I don't have a _________."  The goal of today's class was to talk about what He/She/Name has or doesn't have.  "I have" versus "I don't have" is easy since the verb doesn't change and you just add "don't."  Changing from "He/She/Name has" to "He/She/Name doesn't have is a little more of a jump since the verb seems completely different.  They don't see the logical transition, so it's harder to make sense of it.  Thus, the visual activity.  I changed my sentences on the board to: "Miss Laura has a ________." and "Miss Laura doesn't have a ________."  Again, easy to plug it in.  They were participating, they were quiet (when not participating), and (most importantly) they were correct.  

Then it came time for them to practice in their books.  There was a picture of Sandra's lunchbox and some guy's.  George.  It was George.  Each lunchbox had three items (also new vocabulary).  We discussed aloud what each person "has."  They did fine.

Maribel walked in.

She says "hello" and they respond appropriately.  Then all hell breaks loose.  She's missed the creative part of my lesson, so I'm sad.  I start asking them what eat person, George and Sandra, doesn't have.  They could give me the items, which means they were understanding, but they couldn't give me the whole sentence (even as I referenced it on the board!).  

The next step was fatal.  They had to write sentences in their books.  One example was given: "Sandra doesn't have a yogurt."  It was followed by "She __________" and then just "_________."  Enter the problem.

Mexican education.  God bless 'em.  And I mean that.  I'm very frustrated with the amount of copying that goes on.  Meaning homework assignments of just copying what's already given.  They also copy on tests and homework, but in this instance I'm not really referring to that.

Because they're used to copying, they refuse to think for themselves.  The majority of the time, they will speak the answer to me.  But if I ask them to do classwork in the book, you can forget it!  They wait until I write it on the board.  Then I break down, lecture them in Spanish.  Ask them to think for themselves and answer because I'm not going to do it for them.  Then I just get frustrated.  ARGH.

Their behavior was AWFUL.  Two of my troublemakers were throwing papers at each other.  Another was just flapping his book (that doesn't really help you read what it says and forget writing in it!) very loudly on his desk.  My kid who lived in the US for a few years was answering all the questions, which is pretty much the opposite of what I wanted.

I was hot, frustrated, and ready to get out of there.  (The heat, by the way, was from the frustration; it was not an exceptionally hot day.)

The bell rang, and they left for recess.  This day was a short day because of some meeting.  I assumed it was a typical faculty meeting, so I scheduled my observation at another school with Maribel.  Apparently it was a going away party for the special ed substitute and a welcome back for Geno (she's the one who was pregnant and left for maternity leave).  There were tamales, so I was sad I was leaving.  However, I had been so frustrated with those kids, I was ecstatic to get out of there!

Maribel and I boarded the bus and headed back toward my house.  We got off close to downtown, grabbed two coca lights, and walked the two blocks to the all girls school.  As we entered, they started their recreo, and it started the same as at my school: the kids scream and then run outside.  I was glad for this downtime, because we got to chat with the teacher.  She has a sister that lives in Tennessee, though I couldn't understand the name of the town.  And she said it was a pueblo, so with my limited knowledge of TN geography, I didn't feel too bad.

After our brief chat, the bell rang again, and the teacher (she had some nickname that I don't remember, but her real name was María) scurried off to do something.  I didn't follow (figuratively, but not literally either).  We walked with her to the fifth grade classroom and I was wowed by, are you ready?  SIXTY TWO GIRLS.  How did she do it?

I'll tell you how.  Girls are quiet.  And respectful.  And all of these girls have working parents, so guess how many had books?  All but one.

Watching her teach was bitter sweet.  She spoke pure English.  She did games.  She solicited correct responses.  They loved her.

She never had to raise her voice.

I felt like a failure.  I also felt like I was somehow observing my classroom at Lockeland.  

It was great to see Mexican success, but it was also hard to realize I wasn't having it!

To my credit, she has been at this school several years, so they were used to her style.  And to my credit, they were girls!!!  It made me realize that I could be very happy living here (if only I could make a wage), teaching at a girls' school.  :)  Or teaching in the same place for several years where I wasn't just trying to survive the year.

It also made me realize that there will be so many things I will miss about this place, and that re-entry into my own culture will be difficult, but that I will be excited to be teaching in "my world."  There will be much comfort in the familiar.

What an emotional roller coaster of a day!

Teaching, er, um, yelling....

I have lost all teaching credibility.  This week I have not been myself (maybe it's from not catching up on missed sleep this weekend; poor kids).  In reflection, I'm blaming it on not being well-rested.  I have had a really achy throat this week, and it's because I'm yelling.  With 40 kids not listening, it's what I resort to.  In my defense, it is what works for them.  However, it's not me, and it's not a good strategy.  Not to mention, Bridget would be disgusted at what I'm likely doing to my vocal chords.  Now that would've been a neat experiment: before and after.

I have resorted to making the kids copy things as a punishment.  Who AM I?!  The problem, of course, is that this is not punishment for them.  But it does give me a minute's reprieve.  My goodness they get wearing on a tired teacher!

On a positive note, I am making fast progress in my game of catch up.  First grade is on the right schedule.  They just took yesterday the test that Maribel gave me on Friday.  The other classes are at least one unit behind, but are rapidly catching up.  It's amazing what one can accomplish when there are 5 days of school in a row.  Oddly enough, tomorrow I will not be teaching due to an English meeting (I will also say that most other English teachers were out last Friday and the one before that due to a test prep course.  How do they ever expect these teachers to accomplish anything if they're never at school?!), and Friday we're dismissing early for a faculty meeting.  It's too bad I don't have anywhere to go because Monday is a holiday.  On top of all that, one of the first grade classes (the one that annoys me- finally something just!) was out today and will be until Tuesday due to Anabel's operation (some cyst had to be removed from her leg I think).  It was nice only having one class before recess today.

Which brings me to my next point.  Recess.  And internet.  I've gotten in the habit of getting on the computer during recess.  It passes the time quickly (as if a three hour work day didn't pass quickly as it is) and I get to catch up on news and check in with my friends who gchat at work!

On Monday (my very tired day), I walk into the computer lab and see a familiar screen; it's the one I saw when our neighbors hadn't paid their bill.  I asked Sandra what was up and she said we must've not paid the internet bill, so she called the principal who was out running errands (remember that in Mexico, to pay bills they actually go to the office since mail isn't guaranteed to make it).  He said he had paid it, so she called the internet company.  They informed her that the bill he had paid was for December.  Unfortunately, we're out of money!  So, we'll be internet-less until the students pay their fees for February.  I guess we ate too much at that last birthday lunch!  Only in Mexico does a school lose internet for not having paid it!  And only in Mexico does the school money go to teacher celebrations instead of school necessities!

Lunch at Papá's

Nothing like raw carnage BLEH!

This was to be our lunch.  It turned out better than delicious.

Carlos and Marisela with the fish and spices.

Mabel cutting lemons.

On Saturday, Mabel told me there would be lunch at Papá's on Sunday at 2 if I were interested.  Of course I was interested!  After the big party on Saturday, I unfortunately woke up at 8:45.  I was able to go back to sleep for about an hour.  When I woke up, I propped my door open so I could stay in the loop with Mabel if she went somewhere.  She poked her head in and said she was going to Papá's to hang until lunch and that she would come back for me at 2.

Cool.  I messed around doing a lot of nothing when I probably should've been catching a nap!  At two on the dot she was here to pick me up.  I left in my tank top and shorts (very non-Mexican, but no biggie hangin' with the fam, right?

So we show up at the house and there are chairs and tables set up in the garage/patio.  "Who's coming to lunch?" I ask.  "Some friends and family," she responds, very nonchalantly.  Okay.  Would've been nice to know for dress code purposes, but it's fine.  We go into the kitchen and help Carlos and Marisela with the preparation.  I mostly helped by eating the crackers and cheese.

I think Marisela can do anything she wants.  She is the head cook in the house and is great at explaining how to make just about anything.  She made pico de gallo while I watched.  Then she and Carlos dressed the fish.  That was just about enough to make me lose my lunch.  I'm not one for raw meat.  It took me back to the dissecting days in high school when Mom wanted me to gut a chicken and I had to stop to save it from being dressed in vomit.

Around 3, things were beginning to come together.  At home, I had mentally reprimanded myself for eating a relatively heavy breakfast because I knew lunch would be great and had visions of eating right at 2.  Ha!  The dressed fish sat on the counter until long after Carlos's family started showing up at 3:30.  Apparently this was a birthday lunch.  I had NO IDEA.  I began to realize that my hopes of possibly running around the block and then taking a nap were in vain.

Carlos's little sister Alesandra and their cousin (not sure she ever told me her name) entertained me for a bit.  They were eleven.  Of course, they were dressed much better than I, and they looked closer to 18.  We spend the better part of an hour talking about my exchange and learning English.  We talked family and hobbies as well as good places to visit in the country of Mexico.  The cousin was funny in that she didn't love repeating herself and didn't understand why I might not understand her (She was a crazy mumbler!  At one point, she looked at Alesandra and said, "She doesn't understand me."  I explained that she was mumbling and Alesandra had my back and said, "I didn't understand what you said, either.").  After awhile, the food was ready.  It was really good fish with tortillas of course.  I had way more than my fair share (especially after having eaten about half a stick of cream cheese!), but it was delicious and I couldn't stop.

One of my first weekends in Culiacán, Mabel and I went to Cosalá, the "magical town."  Marisol was the friend we went with.  She came to this birthday party on Sunday and I hadn't seen her since that weekend in September.  It was good to see her.

Around 6, I hit a wall.  I had been planning on being home by 4, around the block by 5 and asleep and back awake by 7.  I had to excuse myself from the table for awhile.  I was so tired that even I could hear how terrible my Spanish sounded.  I also was not comprehending like I knew I should be.  So I went to Papá's living room and sat in the swivel rocker.  I passed out for about 20 minutes.  I needed more, but left it at that.  I stayed in there with Alesandra, her two other brothers (not Carlos), and her cousin.  Cosette was running in and out being really loud and squeaky.  I watched the clock tick minute by minute from 7:00 until 8:00.  I had played out the conversation in my head of asking Mabel if I could drive the car home and if Demien (ex-husband) could take her and Cosette home.  That was to go down at 8.  At 8:02, Mabel came in and said, "Let's go."  I didn't argue.  I actually didn't speak.  The whole way home.  Or up to my room.  She hasn't seen my "hasn't slept/acts like a bear" persona yet.  I figured not speaking was the best option.

Birthday Parties

The girls of the party

Fast friends, Alma and me

Liliana, Alma, Laura, Not Sure (don't think I even officially met her)

Alma, Lenin, Laura, Tekate (Mexico's preferred beer.  Lenin is a distributor)

Singing Sisters: Diana (in the band), Jimena (little sister), Rocio (birthday girl)

The girls: (forgot her name, Johana, Alma, me, Karina, and Ocyé)

My girl Alma and her new boyfriend, Lenin.

I think I've mentioned before on here (or at least multiple times to those of you with whom I chat) that they must celebrate their birthdays every month.  Every single weekend there is a birthday party going on somewhere.  This week it was for Rocio, Ana Luisa's daughter and Alma's friend.

Earlier this week, there was a birthday dinner at Wings, but when I texted Alma about it, she was sick and had to stay home until the weekend.  She mentioned this party on Saturday.  On Friday, I had one of those dumb moments where I felt like I was getting in her way, that she was worn out with entertaining me.  I was super ecstatic (and reaffirmed) to hear from her on Saturday saying, "Get ready for the party tonight!  Mabel has the directions."  Her message was one part English, one part French, two parts Spanish.  I was cracking up.

After the soccer game, Mabel and I headed home for me to change and put make-up on (yeah right I'm going to get dressed up for a sporting event!).  We had planned to leave around 10 or 10:30 with Mabel's warning to not fall asleep.  The game ended and we were home around 9:20, so that was perfect.  Only, when we walked in the house, Mabel said, "We should go as soon as possible."  I asked her why and she had no reason.

Let me reiterate that I despise getting to parties early.  At home, I love to be the first to arrive because I'm usually really good friends with the host.  Here, I'm invited to parties of people I've met, but don't know well.  So I have to enter a place where I don't feel truly invited (even though I am) and then start up chit chat small talk in a second language with people I don't really know.  I don't love pointless chatter in English with people I do know.  On top of those reasons, Mabel seems to get bored or annoyed or I'm not sure what at these parties right about the time (or before) my crowd gets there.

I got ready quickly, but Mabel got sidetracked facebooking someone.  Around 10, we left the house.  I texted Alma to let her know we were leaving and asking her how many parties she had before I would see her.  She said tonight would just be the one and that she was actually ready and waiting on her ride.

Mabel and I stopped to get me a Coca Light and then found the place.  It was actually probably walking (though not in heels and party clothes) from our house.  The location was not a party room or anyone's house like these parties usually are.  This was the patio area of an apartment complex owned by Rocio's family friend.  There was a karaoke machine (a necessity) and a pool room.  It was on a hidden street, so it was great!  I loved walking in because of the ten people there, I felt like I knew at least five of them really well!  Ana Luisa was there.  She is the one who picked me up at the airport when I first arrived and took Mabel and me out to eat.  She lived in Chicago for 5 years teaching Spanish.  Her daughter Diana is the one who sings in a band.  I met her at one of the first enlace meetings.  Mabel, Marisela and I went to hear her sing at a restaurant in Altata one weekend.  Rocio I've seen at other parties, but I don't know that we'd ever spoken.  I met their little sister Jimena (or Ximena, not sure which) at the party.  Their cousin (Iván?) who is also an English teacher (and lived with them while in Chicago those years) was also there.  We all chatted and I enjoyed being there early.

Around 11, Alma showed up.  I knew she would be with Lenin, her boyfriend as of December, but he was nowhere to be found.  I was SO excited to see her!  She said her hellos to everyone who had gathered at that point, then she sat down beside me and we caught up.  I had yet to see her since before Christmas.  We talked and talked and talked.  Soon after, Lenin came in and she introduced him to me (even though we'd already met three times before).  He's so cute.  And really nice and fun.  About that time, the food was ready.  There was a mass exodus, so Alma and I just kept our seats and waited for the line to die down.  When we thought we'd left enough time, we went out to where the food was being served.  It was funny because the woman serving apparently reminded Diana (and all the English teachers) of someone who had presented at some professional development or some such.  They were making jokes and I was cracking up.  They also were joking about the long line that had formed.  Lenin and some of his buddies were sitting on a ledge at the back of the line, and Alma and I just jumped in front of them (since they weren't technically standing in line).  They started placing their orders with people in line.  Others who would come would hear, "¡Ey, la cola, la cola!" which was Diana saying, "Hey, no skipping."  Then she went into a story about being at Xplosion (which happens to be the carnival that Kate and Scott's friend runs- we were supposed to meet up, but they left town the following day) and how they were surrounded by little kids.  As a kid would try to push up to the front (as is typical here or all ages), Diana and her group of upper 20s friends would say, "La cola, la cola."  She said it while covering her mouth, like you do to say something yet not let it be known that it was you doing the talking.  I was laughing.  And Diana is a super-speedy talker.  I love to listen to her, but don't always get all that she says (it's that whole delayed hearing I talked about before).  I was glad to have heard everything (and seemingly "on time").

We enjoyed our food- tacos al pastor- and enjoyed more conversation.  Alma's Saturday job is in the office of Centro de Idiomas (the language school of the local university).  I asked her about taking Spanish classes and she said they would start the new trimester in early February.  I'm very excited.  It's about 500 pesos for three months or daily class.  I am considering taking another language, too.  What else have I got to do?

After the majority had finished eating, the karaoke got kickin'!  Diana sings with a group, so she pretty much owned the thing.  I avoided it at all costs.  There is no concern here for tone deafness nor hogging the mic.  It was hilarious to watch.

After awhile, Alma and I went into the pool room to watch the guys play.  I had met all of this crowd once or twice before, but it had been back in September or October.  It was good to see them all again, re-match faces with names, and add a few more facebook friends to my list.  We watched pool for an hour or two and then Mabel came in, purse on shoulder to say it was time for her to go.  I could go or stay.  I looked at Alma who said they would take me home if need be.  I stayed.  Three hours later(!), we were leaving.  We watched more pool, did the electric slide (they were as surprised as the teachers at the Posada that I knew how to do it), and sang more songs.  We took lots of pictures, which is always fun with a group of Mexicans.  It's a whole ordeal.  Getting home at 4am will wear on you (especially when you wake up at 9), but it's so much fun.  

As we were riding home, I had flashbacks of Andy's driving days.  I'm thinking these days are in the past (mostly because I can't picture the Saturn like this), but who knows.  Lenin drove like a fanatic.  He was all about some acceleration and passing people.  I felt like I was in Grease or some 80s movie about high school kids.  So many things here, with people my age, remind me of high school situations.

***I sent out pictures of this night on my Kodak account, so I only am adding a few to this entry.  If you're interested in seeing more pictures, shoot me an email (senoritaklapheke@gmail.com) and I'll send them to you.  For more birthday party stories, tune in to the next entry!

over the soccer

So I'm up and at 'em this morning and have the tv on for background noise.  There's a soccer game on.  The rabbit ears are not positioned just so, so it's a bit fuzzy; I have no intention of fixing it.

The sporty spice version of Laura came with a desire to watch football on tv.  I'm think that will never happen with soccer.  It's fun in person.  On the screen it seems so much slower.  My honeymoon with soccer is over.

Soccer

Starting a blog entry at 4:15 is not a good idea.  But, if I don't do it now, it won't be as exciting.   Not to mention I'm wide awake, and tomorrow I'll no doubt be a zombie (and not wanting to do any blogs)!

While we were doing laundry today, I saw in the paper that there was a soccer game tonight.  Living right next to the stadium, even though we have never known in advance (I kind of think they just throw their schedule together at the last minute here), it would have been easy to go to a game.  The street fills with cars and you can hear the crowds.

When we left Papá's, we stopped by the stadium to get tickets.  We got the cheapest ones which were 50 pesos.  That basically meant we were behind the goal in unnumbered cement rows.  

At 7, we left the house and made our way to the north gate.  I had SUCH a good time!  

Culiacán's team is called the Dorados, which means goldfish.  The middle picture above was my attempt to capture the mascot.  Unfortunately, lots of little kids got in my way and a good picture was impossible.  The mascot has bulging legs and torso (which is funny, considering it's a fish) and kind of a cartoonish head.  I cracked up every time I saw him!

We got there within the first five minutes of play.  But imagine my surprise as I saw that play clock on 7:57 when the last time I had seen it it said 5:38.  The clock goes forward!  

Now, it's no surprise that I'm not a true Sporty Spice.  I have come a long way, but I still have plenty to go.  But here's the thing.  I feel like I more or less get the goal of basketball.  Football, I have a serious handle on (relative to the handle I had on it just three years ago).  Baseball I own my ignorance.  

Soccer, on the other hand, I had no idea about, but thought I was with it.

Things that were not how I thought:

1- The clock moves forward.

2- Soccer players are violent (there were 4 yellow cards given in the first half)

3- The ball seems to be very high in the air as often as it is near people's feet.

4- These players all wore different colored shoes.

5- These players would exaggerate falls in hopes of a foul (or yellow card or whatever) and if they didn't get it, miraculously they were on their feet sprinting again.

6- Soccer players are super fast.

7- It's no wonder most of my soccer playing friends in college had ACL surgery.  There is some serious footwork attached!

I definitely have a new appreciation for the game and would actually like to see another (maybe from the good seats) before I leave here.

In the end, we beat León 3-0.  But we left before the time was up because there were cops blocking the León fans (above us) from leaving until the Culichis got out of the way.  I suppose they were trying to prevent trouble, but that didn't work.  As we were exiting, policeman were carrying what looked to be a 3 to 4 year old boy with blood trickling down his face.  I don't know what happened, but we didn't want to stick around to find out.

I hated that it had to end that way because it really was a great experience.

My iPod

This morning, we trekked over to Papá's empty house with my overflowing basket of laundry.  Mabel did laundry in passing last week between her teacher training and picking up Cosette, so I missed out.  I have been to yoga five times and that makes for some VERY dirty laundry.  I also wanted to wash my sheets.

We get there, put my load in, and wait.  This is our typical Saturday routine.  Sometimes I have a book.  Other times, like today, I don't.  I pulled out my iPod and started flipping through songs I have yet to listen to.  While I was listening to The Bangles, Cosette came running over and asked, "Tía, you have one of those?"  She enjoyed some Eternal Flame, Beyoncé, Criss Cross, TI, and Dixie Chicks with me.  I needed to get up and check the laundry, so I taught her how to manipulate it.  She listened and played for a long time, considering my clothes had washing detergent powder all over them after the rinse (probably from having a too-full washer) and needed a second rinse.  The picture I took of the two of us shows her (sometimes annoying) super-star/ham personality, while the one I snuck of her on the porch shows her sweet side.

My Drug Man

Go ahead.  Let out that collective international sigh of relief.  My yoga friend is not, in fact a drug dealer.  There it is... "Phew!"

I have really really enjoyed getting back into yoga, as I have made well known in each yoga entry.  I can't explain to you what a difference it makes.  It gives me something to do, for one.  I have plenty to do on the weekends.  And I love school.  I'm thankful for free afternoons.  I figure for once in my life, I'm not rushing around to make it on time from work to yoga to babysitting to dinner with friends.  I might as well enjoy it, even if it feels a bit lazy.  Yoga also takes the lazy feeling out of the equation.  

Thursday, I decided to walk more of my route to yoga.  I usually de-board downtown and wait about 15 minutes for a bus that will take me 5 more minutes up the main drag.  I decided this time to stay on my bus a little farther down the road and get off and walk the last 15 minutes or so.  That way, I could stop at the Oxxo and get my water.  It would still be cold and I wouldn't have to manhandle so much (iPod, money, phone, towel) on my way there.

It worked like a charm and I enjoyed the walking.  Sometimes the bus just stresses me out.  Walking just seems so nonchalant. 

I'm almost always the first one there, often beating Cristina since I err on the side of early in general, but especially in yoga (in Nashville, you get locked out if you arrive "on time").  I left much too much time for error this time, forgetting that the walking would amount to about the same time as waiting for the bus, changing buses, and riding the bus.  I sat outside the yoga building and people watched.  This street is called Obregón and is the main drag.  It's not really a pretty street, but there's always lots going on.  I watched little boys wash windshields of unwilling customers stopped at red lights.  I watched people rush out of buildings only to take on the calm, moseying pace that defines Mexico (although, not necessarily DF).

I got to yoga, got my mat (that I store there so I have one less thing to carry), and relaxed on the couch.  In walked Cristina and her sister Victoria.  I think Victoria is a doctor based on the discussions she had with some guy whose name I cannot recall (Victor, I think).  This guy is ridiculously hard to understand, and I wonder what it's like for Culichis.  Is it like a thick NY accent?  Or is it like a mumbling kid?  Who knows.  I find my listening skills so interesting.  They're definitely better.  To be in the fastest city, I'm proud of myself.  However, when there are two variables, like with Victor (fast speech and an accent or impediment), I find myself understanding, but at a very delayed rate.  Like if I stopped to think about what I was hearing, I would miss the next part.  But if I just listen, I get it a few seconds delayed.  It's really weird.

In walks Willy, my drug ride.

We do our class, which was hotter, humider (go with the consonance here), and harder!  We did some different salutations and I'm thankful for the flexibility (and breaking up of tension) that's coming to my wrists.  I also was finally able to do the pushups in good form.  Regular Bikram yoga is neither arm nor ab intensive.  This was my fifth class back in a relatively short amount of time, so my arms are getting back where they should be.  The pushups going from down dog to plank to up dog without sinking your hips at all are SO HARD.  But I was finally where I thought I should be.  I have plenty more to go, but I'm content.

After class, I was drenched.  I mean, I looked like I had been swimming.  As of late, the classes here haven't seemed too hot or humid (back in the fall, it was literally hotter outside than it was in the hot yoga room), but last night was CRAZY.

As we're getting ready to leave, Willy says, "Are you ready?"  He had told me he would drive me home whenever, since he lives in the adjoining neighborhood (meaning it would take me about 15 minutes to walk there).  He asked, though, if the next time we could speak English; he wanted to practice.  As dumb as this sounds, I'm not the best at speaking English with people for whom it is their second language.  But we got to the car and he started the conversation off and spoke very well.  He told me last time that English had always interested him, so when HBO came to Mexico, he would watch it with closed captioning, learning accurate pronunciation while seeing that our phonics is not really phonics at all.

Something he said led me to ask about his job, so he explained it all.  I don't totally get it, but he is the owner/CEO or the like of a company that does something with software.  They have an account with IBM in Mexico and he's currently trying to create and distribute an identification software like we have in the US.  At the border, you have to digitally give a fingerprint and all kinds of information pops up about you.  He's actually trying to get that here for drivers licenses and such (which to me makes him a pretty good guy).  He explained that it would allow cops to know if you're a felon- or related to one.  He also takes paper documents and scans them in a way that digitalizes them.  He manages 16 employees with 6 different divisions or departments.  It's a high stress, high travel job, but he likes it.  Seems he makes pretty good bank, too!

As I was getting out of the car, I complimented him (again) on his English (he has friends in the US that he visits regularly, and he studied in Canada, so that helps his initial HBO tutorial), and he said "See you Monday."  It's good to know I won't be hailing as many taxis.  It's only 50 pesos, and I don't feel in danger, but I'm happier to know that I'm not walking a couple of blocks before getting in a car with yet another taxi driver.

Where are you from?

Tuesday night I went to yoga.  I am loving being back into it.  I got into it in the fall, and then I started traveling (and EATING) and got out of it.  Life it balanced and as it should be now that I'm practicing at least twice a week (and often thrice is the goal).  

The ride to yoga takes about an hour.  It's less than 30 minutes to my downtown stop, and then another 15 or less to the end of that street.  The problem is, the bus stop is home to many different lines.  Often, it's so crowded, that the bus I want just passes by (there's no room to pull over and get passengers).  This conveniently saves the driver a few cherished minutes.  It sends me into a slight panic, but I always seem to arrive at 6:45 (class begins at 7).

The Canal Tres (Channel Three) bus that I ride to school is the same bus I take downtown before my transfer.  I have gotten accustomed to its route and consequently the drivers.  I don't know upon seeing them how they drive, but within the first ten seconds of the drive I remember quite clearly.

Some drivers (actually most) are in a big hurry when they get to the stop (any stop).  The careless ones make sure only that the last passenger's foot is off the ground before continuing the drive.  Some of them seemed determined to send their passengers to the ER for dislocated heads.

So, Tuesday night, the driver was one of those in a hurry.  I board the bus armed with my iPod clipped to my pants, yoga clothes on, a beach towel, and a 1.5 liter cold and sweaty bottle of water (think tall and skinny-kind of awkward).  I can tell he's going to try to knock me down.  How intent he was, though, I had no idea.  I hand him my 10 pesos and try to balance as we lurch forward, waiting for my change.  I'm also scouting out the seating situation.  I'm going to have to make it 2/3 of the way to the back before there is a seat.  I can do this.  I get my change and start the walk.  I pass two rows when we apparently reach the next bus stop.  He slammed on his brakes so hard, that I was flung all the way to the dashboard!  It's not quite a bad as it sounds, since there's a bench-like area on the dash.  And I felt it coming.  The problem with momentum, though (as Dr. J taught me at VAMPY) is that there is just nothing you can do about it!  

I laughed it off, made faces at the other passengers, and found a seat.  Before he took off for the next stop.  I don't know why they choose to go so fast when they're going to have to stop in 30 more yards.  But that's their job, not mine.

Alas, I arrive, in one piece to yoga.  I'm pumped and ready (and in a cute outfit- I only have two cute ones with me).  I walk into the garden area and the door to the studio is still locked.  I join the lady who is on the bench and we engage in conversation about the door's being locked and what to expect in class.  This is her first class.  After about two minutes of exchange and at least one "¿Mande?" she asks where I'm from.  I tell her the US, but she's already begun her next sentence.  "Argentina?  Are you from Argentina?  I have friends from there and you sound like them."  She must've been off her rocker.  I've never been to Argentina, nor have I studied under a teacher from there.  I guess my accent was decent (you'll notice I don't use the word good) enough to be legit, just not from Mexico.  I'll still take it.

On another note, I got a ride home from someone who may or may not be a drug dealer.  He had a LOT of money.  And Maribel says not to trust them.  I did not feel in harm at all, and he offered a ride anytime I needed one.  I'll keep you posted.

Yes We Can

Benjamin Franklin Library in Mexico City, November 2008

Sitting in my pajamas from 8:30 am mountain time until about 1, I was entranced in the online coverage of the inauguration.  Being away brings so much more significance to these events for me.  That, combined with the fact that I knew what I was talking about this go round.  I was so emotional and proud of our country and filled with hope.  I was glued to my tiny computer screen.  I decided at 1 that I would venture out to the mall for some Inauguration Day shopping (what better way to celebrate?!) and lunch.  I found lots of things at Zara, as usual.  I was bummed to find some of the things I bought before Christmas seriously marked down.  After my shopping spree, I got some sushi, and cuddled up (can you cuddle up in a mall- well, the teenagers can, but bear with me) with my raw salmon (YUM!), soy sauce, coca light, iPod and Blink.  I spent about 3 hours at the mall, sporting my Obama shirt of course.  It was a great day to take off from school.  It's going to take time; how much?  Who knows.  But this I do know:

Yes.

We.

Can.

Sunday's festivities

Notice Alice (mom Carla) in the background as well as all the balloons.  Maribel is on the left and Rebeca is squeezing my neck.

I managed to get up, get cute, and be happy by 10:30.  Maribel came to the door and off we went.  I climbed into their brand new Ford Escape.  Maribel introduced me to her husband Homero.  I sat in the back with the two girls, Maribel (4th grade) and Rebeca (1st grade), that I met the first month or so I was here.

The ride to church was slow because the main streets were all closed for a marathon.  The conversation among the adults was fine.  The girls weren't sure what to think of me.  They stared and then looked away when they thought they'd been caught.  By the time we arrived at the church, though Rebeca, seated in the middle, had begun holding my hand.

We sat through the mass, which if you read the other blog entry, you know that it was not my favorite time.  After mass, we drove to the outskirts of town to the "weekend home" of the family of the birthday girl.  Maribel tells me along the way that Shania had sent her an email this week telling her to take me with her wherever she went.  Apparently she'd had a bad few days.  I thinks he's just a fun girl stuck in a small town of all married folk.  Her family had met her in NYC for Christmas, so I'm sure she was coming down from the family high.  I certainly hope it all gets much better for her and soon.

The girls and I chatted in the back seat and played games.  I had completely grown on them by the time we got there.  The house was about 20 minutes or more outside of town.  We were the first to arrive and it was a magnificent site.  Maribel told me the reason she chose to ask me to this party is that it would be "muy nice" because the family was so rich.  The theme was Alice in Wonderland.  There were 20 tables of ten set up and balloons everywhere.  There were life size wood characters with lots of glitter.  We chose our table, thankfully not in the sun.  All the tables were under tents, but the angle of the sun was such that the tables on the edge were hotter than the other seats.

To pass the time until the party arrived and more importantly the food, we went to the vendors for some esquite (a creamed corn concoction that is delicious, yet different).  I say vendors, but they weren't selling.  They were rented to serve us just as the carnival rides and clown were.  We ate.  We then went on the hunt for a bathroom.  This was the joke of the day.  The only single bathroom we could find that was unlocked, was the men's bathroom outside the adjoining gas station, and it looked disgusting.  We ended up making about 15 trips back and forth to the main house, first looking for an empty bathroom and then being sent to the "office," then returning to inform it was locked, then returning again to yet another locked bathroom.  Luckily, I have a great bladder.  Maribel took matters into her own hands (kind of literally).  Eventually the party gets started.  The birthday girl, her sister, and her mom (Carla, Maribel's friend) are all dressed extravagantly as Alice.  Except for the black hair, they look just like her!  The food has been set up, so we go grab some.  It's a seafood buffet.  I load up mostly on fish nuggets (they were incredible!) and ceviche.  I get a few shrimp and some shrimp salad.  The fried fish was so much more amazing than I expected though.  Being this close to the ocean may not lend itself to beach trips all the time, but it certainly does ensure incredible seafood!

Unfortunately, the only drink choices were regular sodas.  I probably drank a liter of Coke because I was that thirsty (and it just seemed right with fried fish, right?).  Again, lucky for me I have a great bladder.

While we're eating, we have really good conversation.  I always wonder how these things will go.  Will I be bored?  Will I be responsible for the conversation?  Will I sound like an idiot?  Maribel was great at introducing me to people.  She would always explain why I was here and make me seem like a big deal.  Homero was interested in why I had come here, what living was like, how the money worked itself out, and what the Mexicans were doing in the US (and how those with them were boding).  The girls dragged me hither and yon to see the animals (it was like a petting zoo, yet this was always at the house, not rented for the party as well as the pool), check out the clown and games, and to get dessert.  I had a crepaleta, which is not a real word.  Crepes, are, well, crepes.  And paletas are suckers or popsicles, or anything on sticks.  So these were...?  Crepes on sticks.  They had nutella in the middle and sweetened condensed milk (called lehera, its brand name, here) drizzled over the top.  It wasn't as thin as a crepe, so I was mildly disappointed.  Had no trouble finishing it, though!

After that dessert, Maribel and Homero informed me that the seafood was just appetizers.  The carne asada was yet to come!  I was too full for that, so I just passed.  I tasted one bite of the mean, but knew I couldn't hold tortillas.  

Around 5:30, we decided it was time to get out of there (after four hours of bring there and we were the first to leave!).  Rebeca, the younger daughter, was filthy from running around and occasionally leaving her shoes behind.  The girls got cupcakes and their treat bags and we (carefully) loaded the car.  On the ride back to my house, the girls asked if I were going to stay in Mexico forever, and I said no.  I told them that I had to go back and that would be in July.  Maribel sat up straight with big eyes and asked what day.  Her birthday is July 4, and wanted to make sure I'd still be here for that.  It made her day that I would.

I'm so glad I ended up going.  I missed watching football with some friends (but there wasn't a single team out of the four that I could picture myself cheering for), but it was so much fun.  A really great day!

The traveling party.

Demien shows up at 10.  Just about on the dot.  We pile into his truck (the seats) and as he's walking around to his side, Mabel whispers, "We'll see what happens tonight."  We drove to a hamburger place and he ate alone.  Mabel got a jamaica drink, but that's it.  When his food came, there were french fries and onion rings.  She "helped" him with those and told him that he was the reason she had gained weight this winter.  I thought that was funny.

It's 10:30 as we're leaving the hamburger place and I'm glad since we'll still be some of the first to arrive.  We pass by the house and I feel guilty that we're coming empty handed, so I ask them if they want to go pick something up.

We head to the Oxxo where I get my coca light, but the drinks don't suit the there.  We go to a beer stand.  They're all over.  I'll take a picture at some point.  It's almost like a drive-in ticket booth or something.  I don't know why I think that.  Anyway the place was crazy because it was 10:40, and at 11, the prices go up on all alcohol.

We get to the party, say our hellos and have a seat.  The three people I know are Marco the host, Iván the birthday boy, and Quinantzin, a girl I met when I went out with Alma when Mabel was in Tucson Thanksgiving weekend.  Mabel, Demien and I kept to ourselves for the first 20 minutes probably.  After drinks started flowing, we intermeshed a little more.  

All of a sudden, around midnight, Mabel says, "Let's go!"  I'm confused, but clearly dependent.  We say our goodbyes and that we'll be back.  We're headed to a club.  Mabel was bored I think, and also tired of waiting for Alma.

The three of us take off to the other side of town, near where we live.  Demien's brother works at the club, so we get in free.  Mabel and I trod off to the bathroom, but I refuse.  I don't love club bathrooms in general.  This one was pretty bad.  She waits in line about 20 minutes.  We meet back up with Demien who has a bucket of beers.  I get a text from Alma saying she's arrived at the party and where am I?  I explain the situation to her but tell her we'll be coming back.  Approaching 2, when the club closes, I text Alma asking her if she's still there.  At this point, I've been the third wheel on the drinking bike as well as the dancing bike.  I'm ready to see Alma, or hit the bed.  Remember, that on Sunday I had to be up, pretty, and happy at 10:30 for mass with Maribel.  Alma says that one of the friends they were with wasn't feeling well, so they took her home and were on their way to their third party of the night.  Did I want to go?  Thanks but no thanks Alma.  The three of us went home.  It was not the night I had planned.  And it was not my favorite night while being in Culiacán.  But it's over.

Sleepy Saturday

Saturday was luckily such a lazy day.  I got up when Mabel and Cosette got home and prepared myself for the cleaning/laundry day ahead.  When by 1:30, we still hadn't left for Papá's, I realized my laundry would have to wait another week!

Later, Cosette left with her dad and Mabel went to pick up lunch with her godmother (see ¿Me explico? entry).  That night, we had been invited by several people to Marco's house for Iván's birthday party.  Alma told me it would start around 9 or 10.  I told Mabel 10 or 10:30 in hopes of arriving late enough.  But I also knew that if I told her 11 or after, she would say that was too late (I fall asleep once waiting for a party and that rules out the rest of them!).

I started the getting ready process early so I could stay awake (okay, so she has a point).  Around 8:30 she asks me if I still want to go.  I can't tell if I'm misinterpreting or what.  But she was all about going out and doing things in our email exchanges before I got here.  Now that I'm here, she's still all about it.  But it seems she's hesitant when it comes to my plans.  Like if she's the one who has the information or the friends (and she's often saying "I don't have any friends"), she's all for it.  But then if I'm the one receiving the invitation, she always confirms later, like I might have changed my mind.

I don't know.  Maybe it's nothing and I'm misreading the way they communicate.  Who knows.

So I say yes.  I still want to go.  I'm dying to see Alma since I haven't yet since returning from Christmas.  Alma is such a great girl and I couldn't be more thankful that I met her.  Well, that Shania put her in charge of me.  She's is lots of fun, very thoughtful, and always up for something!

Anyway, we're set to leave at 10.  Around 9:30, in comes Mabel to get the directions to Marco's house.  Then she hits me with it.  "I think Demien is going to come with us."

Let me explain for a minute.  Demien is Cosette's dad.  Over the course of my four months here, I have gotten bits and pieces of the story.  I feel like I have most of it now.  The gist of their divorce is that he is an umpire.  He gets hired to travel for three months or more at a time and was never home.  Mabel was taking classes to finish her degree, teaching two jobs, and taking care of Cosette basically by herself.  She gave him an ultimatum more or less a year and a half ago since she was basically a single mom as it was.  In a discussion we had at another point about second chances, she said in her book you only get one second chance.  I said that I agreed.  In thought.  But in reality I give all kinds of chances.  I've been burned many a time for that.  Oddly enough, while we were talking about second chances, I said to her, "If Demien wanted you back, you would give him another chance, even though you already gave him his second chance."  She said absolutely not unless he had changed jobs because in the end it would be the same: he would be gone all the time.

I'm slightly annoyed that she's telling me he's coming.  But I'm not mad about it.  It's hard to explain the dynamics of things, so just suffice it to say, I'd have preferred to go just the two of us, or by myself.  On the other hand, I was excited to get to meet him and see what he was like.  Up to this point, we had only passed each other in the house.

This entry is reaching its length limit.  I'll get to the nighttime events in the next.  To be continued...

Graduation Mass, Super Salad, Party, Party and More Party!

So, Friday we go to the mass.  I really enjoyed being in the geographic location.  The view of the city, while super smoggy, is really pretty.  (Strange that it's smoggy in pictures since I don't notice it in real life.)  Seeing the city from up so high is nice.  And the church itself is very interesting; it's shaped like a pyramid.  After the mass, we all congregated outside (we finally found Marisela and Papá).  Tía Laura (the buñuelos aunt) came up and hugged all over me.  She asked about Christmas, the buñuelos, my family, and the biscuit recipe.  When we were making buñuelos, she wanted to know how to make biscuits.  I told her I would get her the recipe, yet I didn't.  I'm right on that.

We took pictures of the fam.  With Carlos (boyfriend).  Without Carlos.  With Laura.  Without Laura.  

The party was scheduled for 9pm, so we had over an hour to kill.  

I had only had a peanut butter and honey sandwich (Lockeland gals- there's your peanut butter reference again) at 1:00, and that was before I ran.  I was starving.  There was a salad place right next to La Lomita, so I decided a salad would be something nice and light to tide me over until the meal was served at 10:30 or so.

Ha!

The salad I ordered was HUGE.  I ended up eating all of it, though when it came to the table I would've never imagined.  I was much hungrier than I knew!

From there, we returned home for a bit.  We killed about 20 minutes and then returned right up the street to the Salón de Fiestas (Party Hall).

We got there and entered a HUGE hall with 100 tables set for 10 people.  This graduating class had 80 students.  Each student could reserve however many seats they needed.  Marisela had two tables.  

I guess the average student reserved one table (if my math serves, no pun intended).

During the mass, they were all dressed in all white.  I would say they were in dental attire, but they weren't.  They were all in white suits.  For the party, they had all changed into prom dress-code.  I'm talking seriously dressed up.  And the girls all had to wear a shade of blue.  The hairdos would put Texas to shame.  

When Mexicans get done up, I mean, they get: Done. Up.

Mabel, Cosette and I took our seats at the table with Tía Laura, her daughter Cecy, and another one of Mabel's aunts and cousins.  

Papá and Marisela were also sitting there with Carlos.  We all just chit chatted for about an hour.  They came out for our drink orders.  They didn't have Diet Coke, so I was up a creek.  

Mabel got a bottle of Squirt for the table since she had brought a bottle of tequila.  It was a BYO event.

All of the servers were male, which I found strange.  Mabel said it's always that way.  

In restaurants, there are waitresses, but at catering events, the men are the wait staff and the women are hostesses.

By 10:30, they had brought out a tray of appetizers to each table.  Having eaten a gigantic salad, I wasn't interested in the hors d'eouvres ( how do you spell that?!).  A bit later, they brought out our main plates.  It was salmon, a baked potato (which Mabel said I just had to try.  I burst her bubble a bit by telling her we had those.  They seem very American to me, no?), cheese rice, a roll and it seems like some other carb.  The salmon was drenched in a sauce.  I love salmon so I wanted to taste it.  It was yummy.  I ate about half of the salmon and rice and then called it a night on food.  So I thought.

At 11, they began introducing all 80 graduates.  Eleven o'clock was our original planned departure time.  Earlier in the week, Iván, one of Alma's friends that I met right before Christmas, had texted me telling me he was having a birthday dinner on Friday.  Mabel and I decided we'd pull an Alma and show up at the end.  Supposedly the dinner started at 9.  So that means 10.  We thought we'd leave graduation at 11 and hit the second half.  When the clock struck 11:30, I decided to start sending texts to see if it was even worth going to the dinner.  After several rounds of texts, we found out that Alma had left, and that they were finished eating, but that the party was still going on; they hadn't asked for the check yet.

Mabel and I went back and forth about what the texts meant (I was afraid I was mistranslating.  Unfortunately, she was over-served and misinterpreted something at first.  We weren't going to go.) and I got a call to clear things up, but couldn't hear it.  We eventually figured out the mistake (Mabel had thought the text said the opposite of what it said.) and headed to the other side of town to T.G.I.Friday's.  Of course, we get there and the check is being brought.  Awesome.  I reintroduce Mabel to Iván (she met him on another over-served night) and she and I split their last piece of birthday cake.  We spend about 30 minutes there and then head back to the graduation party until it ends at 2.

I had no plans for Saturday daytime.  Mabel, on the other hand, had to be at an English teachers' training at 9.  I slept until she got home a little after 11 (she left early to pick Cosette up from Papá's).  I still was tired.  Something about changing from early to bed in the week to late to bed on the weekend is killer for my body, even when I still get 8 hours of sleep!  I was thankful to have an empty agenda.