May 2, 2014 Getting Ready Again

Something about early May. Six years after saying good-bye to Merida, Miles and Paul are getting ready to say "Hello Liberia!" So much to do before flying out tomorrow night from JFK, but at least I learned how to log in to this blog again!

May 2, 2008 – Good-bye Miss Kitty. Miss Kitty is the cat in residence at Casa Alvarez and she has gone through some hard times recently. Upon our arrival a few weeks ago, 3 of her 4 paws were grossly swollen and somewhat useless. They became worse throughout our stay, despite numerous trips to the vet. Every now and then she would find a hiding place and it became somewhat clear that she was probably looking for a place to discretely pass away. Between language barriers, cultural differences, and tough choices, Miss Kitty’s situation provided some new experiences (and new vocabulary) for all of us—by the way, one way to “cut” the smell of cat urine from a tile floor is to splash a little bit of gasoline in the mop water. Who knew?

When we first came to Merida two years ago, Enrique introduced us to Miss Kitty with the clarification, “Like Miss Kitty on “Gunsmoke”. We said good-bye to her Thursday morning when we hopped in a taxi at 5:30. It is doubtful that we will see her again.


Good-bye now to the amazing kids and teachers at Escuela Ruben Dario. Our little Thank You card is but a token of all the appreciation and affection we send your way.

Good-bye for now to all sorts of Mexican acquaintances, like the retired woman who was born in Chicago when her father worked for Wrigley’s. The family moved back to Mexico before she was a year old, but she managed to take English classes in school and has a pretty decent command of the language. She used to be one of Enrique’s perfume salespeople in a door-to-door enterprise. The perfume business ended a few years ago and she is now retired and adheres to some unusual health practices that would be inappropriate to post on the internet.

Good-bye for now to Gabriel, our friend who was our landlord in Playa del Carmen two years ago but who has since moved back to Merida to be with his wife and sons. We shared all sorts of aspects of our lives with Gabriel, including personal trials and triumphs, in a wonderful afternoon’s reconnection. Funny line from Gabriel in his reasonable English: “We are like brothers and sisters. We are like family. It is nice.” Moments later, “But I can’t remember your name,” pointing at Ruth. It’s a nice relationship when you can comfortably admit to things like that.

Good-bye for now to the guy on the street who started chatting us up in Spanish after seeing Miles’s jersey for a local soccer team. The guy had lived in Nebraska at one point on a 6-month exchange program. (The world needs more of these, not less.)

Good-bye for now to the guy we met working as a guard at the museum. Years ago he lived in San Francisco and worked in food service at City Hall despite not having proper documents. (I doubt he could do that now.)

And we’ll catch you next time Doña Betty(?) from Chiapas, who stays at Casa Alvarez after recuperating from plastic surgery. This round included an old fashioned face lift, with big scars between her cheeks and her ears, and some liposuction in various parts with a little redistribution of the leftover fat to smooth out some wrinkles on her forehead. She was concerned her stitches were going to pop on the airplane back to Oaxaca. (Yuck!)

Good-bye for now to the good company, shared adventures and funny tales. One road trip took us to the nearby beach town of Progresso. As often happens, reaching the final destination was an accomplishment. Miriam was looking for a restaurant that looked like a castle and had a funny name. With no Mapquest, and a seemingly inherent inability among many Mexicans to give directions, it took a while to get to the restaurant. It resembled a family’s unfinished second story, not a castle, and many folks would shudder at the lack of amenities, but the seafood was outstanding and cheap.

A funny tale: Miriam told us about showing up at the annual Rummage Sale at the Merida English Library. She saw a very attractive cremation urn, made of marble. She watched as a lady asked the retired American, who was volunteering for the day, what it was. The guy said, “I think it's a jewelry box.” “How much?” “How about $10 after I blow the dust out of it?” “Deal!”

Good-bye for now to the time to think, to read, and to write. I had an especially interesting moment while reading an excerpt from an upcoming book by a Liberian woman who fled Liberia as a young teenager after relatives were killed in the 1980 coup. After years as a successful news correspondent in the USA, she finally returned to Liberia to try to find her adopted sister who was left behind when the family fled. The excerpt was a great read, and I was completely transfixed and transported back to Liberia in the heat, the Liberian English, the beach, etc. when the doorbell rang. I could barely figure out where I was or which language to use as I headed to the door. Fortunately it was just Ruth and the kids at the door. For a good read, check out: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/06/magazine/06Liberian-t.html


Good-bye for now to Enrique and his ability to transform the most decrepit antiques back to working order with an assortment of handcrafted parts and substitutions. He’s especially fond of a razor blade off a disposable plastic razor because it provides great flex for the pendulum to swing and it takes solder well. Watching him operate inside a 100+ year-old clock is pretty cool. (His new rear floor mat for his 1960 Peugot is pretty cool also. It is a yoga mat that some French travelers left behind.)

And finally, good-by for now to whacky geo-centrism. How can it be that an international airline flying in and out of Mexico can get away with not using any Spanish on its flights? Pity the Mexican passenger getting on a USAirways flight in Cancun: none of the announcements at the gate are in Spanish nor is any of the in-flight information, including the key safety presentations. And upon arriving a few weeks ago, the USAirways flight attendants didn’t know how to fill out a Mexican tourist visa arrival form (there are two parts, and each must be completed). Those who followed the instructions provided by the flight attendants got stuck in a hallway at the airport looking for a pen. Those who could read Spanish (and the English instructions that were provided as well) whizzed right through.

And, Hello Nature! We rolled up our driveway in Hinesburg at 12:40 a.m. after a long day of travel, but the smell of spring in the Vermont woods was outstanding. We love Merida, but it is a big, hot city with loud, smokey buses, plenty of traffic, and not a lot of silence.

And, Hello Raccoons! Mama and babies are doing well in the bottom of our chimney, ugh! Fortunately, I got the access cover to our living room shut tight before they broke through (I could hear them conniving on the other side of the thin sheet metal cover. It sounded something like, “On 3! Ready?”).

Hasta luego!

April 21, 2008 – Weekend Report

Saturday started off pretty mellow. R.u.t.h, M.i.l.e.s and J.i.l.l rode around with Miriam, Alli and Sergio as Sergio delivered invoices and collected payments. Although the tour provided quality family time for the Franco family, I’m under the impression that I am very fortunate to have so many of our household and business transactions set up electronically and automatically. By the way, Sergio (Miriam’s husband, Alli’s father) and his brother own a small business that rents scaffolding and medium duty equipment like skid-steers.

By mid afternoon, M.i.l.e.s and J.i.l.l and I decided to head to the central plaza for licuados (fruit smoothies). This is a routine that M.i.l.e.s and I usually do on our own, not out of exclusivity, just because R.u.t.h and J.i.l.l are too smart to walk the 6 blocks in the afternoon heat and bus exhaust. But J.i.l.l was up for it this time, and we threw lactose intolerance to the non-existent wind, and J.i.l.l drank half of a strawberry licuado while M.i.l.e.s tried in vain to stay ahead of a quickly melting frozen watermelon bar.

And then…. J.i.l.l bent over, put her hands on her knees, and looked like she was either going to throw up or keel over after passing out. The park was full of people, and J.i.l.l was a good sport when I suggested that it would be kind of her to at least try to get closer to a big municipal garbage barrel. And bless her little 9 year old heart, J.i.l.l did saddle up to the garbage barrel which was nearly as tall as she was, and…. put her hands back on her knees and stayed bent over for several minutes. Long enough for me to start paying attention to the bees that were flying in and out of the barrel. Long enough for me to wonder where the heck my epi-pen was if I got stung. And, long enough for M.i.l.e.s to get shat upon by a pigeon. (J.i.l.l got “tagged” by a pigeon the next day, and I got nailed on a previous trip. R.u.t.h’s time is running out.)

Eventually, we worked our way across a busy intersection and J.i.l.l remained bent over strategically aiming at the gutter. It was a sad sight and certainly caught the eye of all passersby. One young lady from northern California said, “Be careful, the lettuce is awful down here.” Eventually, I scooped J.i.l.l up and carried her home on my hip like a toddler, after begging her to aim wisely should things get ugly. So, twice in two days, I had the pleasure of precious bonding time with each of my kids on Calle 62 in Merida because of gastro-intestinal adventures.

And, 15 minutes later, J.i.l.l was good to go and was bouncing off the walls at Casa Alvarez. Hummm? I suspect a similar blood sugar issue as my own. (I once passed out in a bar in Pavillion, Wyoming after moving cows all day, forgetting to eat, and then wolfing down pizza.)

J.i.l.l certainly had enough energy for our Saturday night plans: Ice skating at the mall. It was a pretty good time considering the location. The ice was a little wet, but considering it was 8:30 p.m. on an ice rink in a shopping center in southern Mexico, it wasn’t too bad. They even had a Zamboni.

And then, Burger King for a late evening meal. Burger King, complete with Play Castle and “High School Musical, II” complete with Karaoke lyrics in English on several flat screen televisions. Hoo-doggy, we never party like that in Hinesburg.


Sunday found us on a road trip/exploration of Izamal. It is an interesting small city dating back to the 1500’s with a giant monastery that the Spaniards built on top of Mayan ruins (naturally). Pope John Paul, II gave a mass there in 1993, right across the street from the “La Esquina del Prestamo” (the corner of the loan). It looks like you can hock your grandma’s crucifix to the pawn shop and get cash 7 days a week, but you won’t be able to get it back out on Sundays. (I’d love to hear the explanation for that.)



Sunday evening found us wandering the central plaza in Merida once again. Sundays in Merida are special, and the police cordon off numerous blocks for plenty of outdoor eating, entertainment, vending, etc. We walked through an interesting art installation next to a huge old cathedral. Other than the fact that Jill left the bottom half of her legs behind in Izamal, it was pretty cool. The modern art installations, next to the centuries-old cathedral, with evening hymns being sung as a young nun in full white habit tended the door. It was an interesting mix that offered a great summary of all the coexisting cultures that come together in Merida.

(FYI, I just added some photos to the bottom of the entry about M.i.l.e.s's birthday, a couple of entries down.)

April 19, 2008 – Another First

We had another “first”, which is common when we travel in Mexico. Equally common, is the fact that these “firsts” usually have as much to do with American culture as Mexican culture. On our first trip, we saw our first Brittany Spears music video and our first Lindsay Lohan movie. What could possibly compare this time? We saw our first episode of “American Idol”. (Casa Alvarez Guest House has 60+ channels on cable T.V. Casa Lamberson in Hinesburg has none.)

American Idol: What an interesting event. The opening production had the 8 finalists belting out a paean to Jesus Christ. It was a song I recognized from churches I attended in Mississippi and it is a hit in the mega churches where the lyrics are projected on the walls, (no need to look down and cramp your output capacity). Bear in mind, I knew the lyrics, I’ve sung the song, but considering the show’s global reach, I just wish the Unitarians had something jazzy to offer.

Enough of that. What’s going on around here? Well, J.i.l.l has been having some excellent days at school and wishes she could stay here for the rest of the school year. Whoa! As a parent and school board member, I’m paying attention. We can’t quite zero in on all the factors at play, but the school here seems to be free of the burdens that plague 3rd and 4th grade girls in Hinesburg. Lots of love, lots of connections with teachers and other students, and tiny classes. I think there are 4 other kids in J.i.l.l’s class here. You do the math: Tuition is $25 a week, and there are only about 40 kids spread across grades 1 thru 6. I’m surprised the school can pay its bills. Here's a picture of J.i.l.l and Alli:



How’s M.i.l.e.s? Just fine. The residual gift shower continued for a few days after his birthday reaching the point of semi-embarrassment. We capped off the birthday “day” the other night with a visit to one of our favorite parks, Parque de las Americas. It has 4 quadrants split by an intersection. It also has some great vendors selling street food.

Considering that the previous night, M.i.l.e.s and I had eaten some tacos at a place downtown that didn’t count as a “hole in the wall” since there were no walls, just a wide spot on the sidewalk (we agreed it was best not to pay attention to how the dishes were being washed in a drywall bucket), our birthday “dinner” at Parque de las Americas should have been a breeze. Except, that sometimes fathers play clean-up, and I got all the leftovers. Those, combined with my own bad choices, resulted in a lead balloon.

Before you try it yourself, do not combine 3 tacos with jalapenos, a beef, bologna and cheese sandwich, a fried banana drizzled with sweetened condensed milk, a Fanta orange soda, and a marquesita filled with Nutella and cheese. The results will be disastrous and long lasting. (A marquesita is kind of a rolled waffle/crepe that is often delicious by itself.) However, even in the darkest moments there are bits of light. There is a tedious line in “My Friend Flicka” (since we don’t have any TV channels at home, and I am a tightwad, we have maxed out the video collection at the Hinesburg library). The father says something to a young Roddy McDowell (did he do anything between “Flicka” and “Planet of the Apes”?) like, “Son, there’s a special way that a father talks to his son.” I abused that line for years, but I’ll tell you, it aptly described the special moment yesterday while M.i.l.e.s and I walked downtown for an afternoon licuado. M.i.l.e.s: “You know, it kind of hurts to walk a few blocks when your pooper hasn’t been working right for a few days.” P.a.u.l: “Yup.” (I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation. It would fall into the OMG, TMI category.) Here's a picture from the happy evening that started it all:



On a different note, although we’re no experts on Mexico, we’ve been coming for 2 years and are witnesses to change. One thing we’re watching is the prevalence of inefficiency for the sake of job creation. The number of staff in a store is an example. We went to the electronics shop yesterday to buy a new power cord for Enrique’s desktop PC (we’ll probably be back soon for a video card). As is common, one employee handed us the merchandise and prepared a bill ($2.50) and then handed everything off to a cashier. Then the cashier rang us up. There’s a reasonable chance this will all be a thing of the past in the near future as Office Max and Wal-mart spread their reach. The “jobs program” versus efficiency is also evident in the street maintenance department (though many of us probably raise the same question in the States at times). There is something to be said for giving a guy a broom and a cart and a few assigned streets to clean versus having a machine come through and do it quickly and efficiently.

Time to put this stuff on the web and get on with all that surrounds me.

April 16, 2008 – Happy Birthday M.i.l.e.s!

M.i.l.e.s is a cool kid. At 12 years old, he is a comfortable traveler who has had the luxury and challenge of having 3 of his past 4 birthdays away from home. Numbers 10 and 12 in M.e.x.i.c.o; number 9 in London. He’s missed out on a bunch of traditionally camaraderie at home as a result, but he easily drops in to wherever he ends up, and is a budding diplomat. (Don’t worry. I don’t treat him in the same detached way that I just wrote about him.)

Planning M.i.l.e.s’s birthday was an adventure. The last time we were here, a classmate had a birthday and the family bought pizza, cake, and drinks for the class: 7 kids. However, last week another kid had a birthday, and the parents poured it on for the whole school: 40 kids. They provided a piñata, drinks, loot bags full of candy, birthday cake, and hot dogs with a slew of condiments. M.i.l.e.s and J.i.l.l were blown away at how much their classmates could wolf down at 9:30 in the morning. (Future Mexican President, Eduardo, managed to eat 4 hot dogs. By the time he gets to Los Pinos (where the President lives in the D.F.) he won’t be able to fit through the door.)

There was plenty of conversation and thought among ourselves, and with Miriam and Alli’s advice, regarding how much we should provide for a birthday party. We didn’t want to appear unappreciative and stingy, but we also didn’t want to meet or raise the bar regarding crazy birthday standards. It isn’t an unfamiliar debate at home either (though few have accused us of pushing the outer limits at home when they see my crafted-from-paper-bags piñatas in Hinesburg: one of them looked like a bad day at the wrong end of Shrek).

We finally settled on a cake for the whole school, little bags of munchies for everyone, a small juice bottle each, and a bolley (long o). A bolley is plastic bag/tube of flavored water that is frozen before a person bites one end and sucks on it. (We screwed up and didn’t put ours in the freezer soon enough, but they were slushy.) And Coke and Diet Coke for the teachers. Settled.

Except that Miriam and I ran into the hot dog parents the other morning as we were leaving school. We compared notes on birthday planning, and despite his best efforts, the dad was full of advice. We could buy hot dogs and pancake batter and make our own pigs in a blanket and then put little flags in them, and numerous other ideas, but I zoned out, and Miriam reaffirmed our earlier plan once we were back in the car.

Next level of cross cultural experience in Mexico: Ordering a school-sized birthday cake at the bakery at Wal-mart that met Mile’s expectations for flavor, color and design. Sizes are by the kilo, not solely by dimensions, and then there is “dry” cake versus “tres leches”. Dry is closest to what we serve in the States. Tres leches is delicious but is a mess once you get bigger than a piece. We placed our order a few days in advance, and hoped for the best and prepared for the worst. We picked up our other supplies at various locations throughout Merida, more than offsetting any cost savings with time and fuel consumption. By the way, in Mexico, Wal-mart is not the low quality discounter it is in the States (they own a separate chain for that). Wal-mart in Mexico is at least a level up, more along the lines of Target in the States, except they always have a supermarket inside. (Miriam had offered us Costco and Sam’s Club as well, but I’m short on cash and long on credit, and preferred to use my credit card at Wal-mart, which likely wouldn’t have been an option at the other two.)

Today was the big day. Miriam and I dropped the kids off at school and hung around the customary little while. Hot Dog father asked Miriam what our plans were, and when he heard he said to his wife, “Why didn’t we do that?! Remember all the food that ended up in the garbage?!”

Before Miriam and I left the school, the principal gathered all the kids in the courtyard to sing Happy Birthday to the birthday children. “Children”?! Oh, it was Abram’s birthday today also. Oh crap! There was either going to be a sugar and fat bonanza times two later in the morning, or a completely uncomfortable imbalance between how the birthday kids were treated. We immediately witnessed the latter, not the former.

(Oops, I was just interrupted by the telephone. Yup, once again Enrique and Miriam have left their operation to my inept hands. The phone call? An automated message asking me to press 6 if I wanted my eyeglasses repaired.)

The entire school sang Happy Birthday to Miles in English and Spanish, completely ignoring Abram even though the poor kid stood next to M.i.l.e.s. (Remember, M.i.l.e.s is a sweet kid with a deep sense of diplomacy and fairness. We were going to have to come up with something.)

Ruth, Miriam and I headed off to Wal-mart to pick up the cake (along the way Miriam shared gruesome stories of well publicized drug trafficking assassinations and decapitations--well publicized to better intimidate people.) At Wal-mart, Ruth wisely veered off to buy something for Abram, while I headed to the bakery with my fingers crossed. A beautiful cake was waiting with “Feliz Cumpleanos Miles!” on top. No room to add “Abram” but at least they spelled Feliz with a “z”. When they had taken the order, Ruth had to remind them how to spell “feliz” after they initially spelled it with an “s”.

Off to school, and though I could offer all sorts of thoughts and observations about how kids treat one another, a wonderful party was had by all. (Even though we arrived to find Jill nearly in tears. Today was P.E. day at school. The gym teacher was trying to teach the kids how to do handsprings(?) and had some small pieces of foam on top of the concrete. No spotting was offered and Jill took a dive. Our little skin and bones gal was in some serious pain, but she pulled it together.)

The gringos made sure Abram got some attention and a gift since it was evident his parents had not attempted to compete in the Grand Party Competition. And Ruth held future President Eduardo at bay when he asked for more food. Not a whole lot of food got wasted, though there was enough that one teacher brought a bunch of plate scrapings home to her 5 dogs. (We didn’t want to think what would happen if our dog ate that stuff.)

Happy Birthday M.i.l.e.s, you’re a cool kid!

April 15, 2008 - The Chicken Place where everybody knows your name.

Miriam took me to a place to pick up a roast chicken the other day. For a little more than $5.00, we got a very tasty roast chicken fresh from the grill, a small bag of chopped cabbage, and a large bag of freshly made chicken soup.

The operation was set up in the large front room of a woman’s ramshackle house. It was not particularly on the beaten path, but it was a very popular place. In fact, we had to wait about half an hour for the next chickens to be ready from the grill. While we waited, we learned a lot about another man who was waiting. He was 84 years old, he brought his own pot for the soup because he didn’t like getting scalded when he opened the plastic bag, and he’d just had a malignant tumor removed from his abdomen that weighed more than 3 kilos, and he didn’t want any chemo or radiation treatment. (He didn't look like he needed it either.)

Another old man had grown up in California and lived in Massachusetts as well. He spoke fondly of New England.

And of course, there was the hand lettered sign above the counter that was reminiscent of small shops in Liberia. Loosely translated: “We don’t sell pollo pavos (or was it pavo pollos?).” Basically, “We don’t sell big birds.” (Guinea hens?) “We don’t work here for fun. Be prepared to pay.” (In Liberia one version was, “Mr. Credit is dead!”)

And of course, there was the woman who was working her tail off by herself because various members of her family were not helping.

A different day in Merida: I was hanging out in the front room at the Guest House where the wi-fi signal reaches. As is not uncommon, Enrique and Miriam were off running errands and had left the place to us. In the course of about 30 minutes, I answered the door 4 times. Once for the drinking water man (17 pesos-about $1.60 U.S. for 20 liters), the newspaper man, the housekeeper, and the garbage survey man. Then I answered the phone and spoke with Enrique and Miriam’s elderly Tia Carmen. (Miriam is her power of attorney and collects her social security for her about this time of the month.) I was even ready for the taxi driver who didn’t show up. The poor guy had arrived on two previous occasions looking for his 40 peso tip for delivering some guests. Unfortunately, each time he only found me and I didn’t know Miriam had left the money in the bottom of the pencil holder. But now I’m ready should he ever return.

And, what does an occasional afternoon look like at Casa Alvarez? Well, it doesn’t happen every day (and it hadn’t happened in a while!) but R.u.t.h and Miriam excavated Enrique’s kitchen the other day. I joked that I wanted to take a picture of an archeological site.



And J.i.l.l introduced Alli to Webkiz.

April 14, 2008 - R.u.t.h's Thoughts

It’s funny to read what tidbits of our Meridian life enter P.a.u.l’s brain and stick to it like gum in your hair. The tidbits that stick to me are images such as Miriam stumbling out of her kitchen with a shot glass in her hand full of maple syrup. Her eyes lids kept fluttering as she repeated deeply and slowly, “Miel de maple, ahhh, miel de maple.” (“maple syrup, ahhhh, maple syrup”) I guess we are the concubines from the north.

What else? Most days I spend riding around with Miriam in the morning while she runs her daily “diligentes” (errands). I swear we spend most of the time just driving around in circles but it prolongs my Spanish lessons, which is a good thing. And she teaches me where to get the best deals. She bought a little boy a backpack for $2.50 for his birthday and then we went to the school for the party. Luckily we had some extra goodies we had brought with us from Vermont -- a children’s book in Spanish. Miriam said that it was sufficient for a gift.

The whole school was invited to Juan Alberto’s 8th birthday. So, 40 kids, all the teachers and some loafer parents like Miriam and I were there. I met Juan Alberto’s mom but I never figured out who Juan Alberto was. But, his mom served us hot dogs at 10 in the morning with tomato, onions, mayonnaise and ketchup on them. The kids got to destroy a huge piñata and eat the contents (Miriam and I got there after the piñata had been attacked. M.i.l.e.s and J.i.l.l say it was a major free-for-all with candy everywhere and kids grabbing candy off M.i.l.e.s’s back that had fallen on it in the mayhem.) Our kids managed to fill their small plastic goody bags.

The birthday party ended with cake from Sam’s Club and bottles of tamarinda flavored juice. What IS tamarinda, anyway?? It tastes good, whatever it is. During the festivities I made the mistake of telling the teachers that M.i.l.e.s’s birthday is next week. They immediately wanted to know what super hero he’d like for the piñata. We’ll report on the party next week. M.i.l.e.s really doesn’t want the whole school to be there. He’s a bit of a celebrity at Ruben Dario as it is and he would like some normal kid time while there. However, Miriam wants to invite all the teachers over to the guesthouse to celebrate. They haven’t seen this place since Miriam and Enrique put in two new bedrooms. I suppose a birthday party is a good excuse to have them over.

Miriam and I left the birthday party at about 10:45 to continue running errands. When Miriam and I returned to school at 12:30 to pick the kids up Jill actually asked if we could get candy from Senor Lucerito the candy man. I looked at her candy bag and at her and I didn’t have to say anything else. And this was before I had done my candy research.

We came home and I typed into google “ploma en dulces mexicanas” and “lead in Mexican candy”. A friend and neighbor at home had warned me about this two years ago and I had done research back then on it. But it seems the Mexican candy makers still haven’t dealt with their lead issue (at least not as of May of 2007) and Miles and Jill weren’t happy when I showed them pictures of the alleged criminal candies. “But, Mom!” My response, “But J.i.l.l-J.i.l.l, lead is bad for growing brains. ” She interrupted my lesson on the hazards of lead and held up a marshmallow looking plastic wrapped candy between her thumb and forefinger and asked disbelievingly and challengingly, “So, how many brain cells will I lose if I eat this?”

Despite the candy, their brains seem to be doing okay. Their Spanish is coming back to them. M.i.l.e.s is starting to speak in the correct tenses and J.i.l.l is reacquiring her basic vocabulary. She speaks in Spanish with Ali more than before so that’s a good step.

It’s now time to get a snack and then off with Miriam, Ali and Sergio to swim in some cenotes.