Footloose, baby...

On Friday nights for maybe 2 months now, there are a group of 5 of us that do a video call. Usually for an hour or two, once a marathon 3 hours. We cover off our weekly COVID-19 updates in our respective cities and countries, of course, but we cover off a variety of life on our calls. Everyone has been to Oaxaca except Shirley, and this gap we expect to be fully remedied once The Stupid has passed.

Tonight we decided that today would be a 1984 theme, and Claire, Len and Erin all did hair and make-up for the call. The side pony, crimped hair, finger-less gloves, bangles, you get the idea.

I was my job to do 1984 Trivia, which was fun. Here is the link if you wanted to play.

I look forward to and enjoy catching up with friends who I don't usually have the joy of catching up with often. We all live full lives, so catching each other for a chat is a bit of a Bond-esque skill. Now, we are home. Not traveling, or working, or out at the Local having wine and listening to music.

The Local almost 6 years ago.
Was it the reason we rented our apartment?

I know that COVID has brought about a lot of negative. I also believe it has brought about a lot of positive, and being virtually close to friends has been one.

Wall Art - Pick a Topic, any topic

Today as I was walking home from the vet's office, I passed by this great mural I had been meaning to take a picture of for months. Every time I had passed by before, there was a car parked of the lighting as bad, or something.

The mural is about the national legalization of abortion. In Oaxaca they passed the law last year to legalize abortion. Before that, the only place that you could safely and legally get an abortion was Mexico City.

Also on the way home was this stencil. During the woman's march, which now seems literally decades in the past, there were quite a few very impressive stencils. I had seen this one at the time and I walk by it every morning but again, timing is everything.

Other than Benito Juarez, our glorious son of Oaxaca, first indigenous president of Mexico, sporting a blue face covering at the beginning of the COVID-19 crisis, I've not seen any novel corona virus specific wall art.

At Least I did one useful thing today...

The subject of my blog today was an email reply to an email from a friend of mine who I needed a little help from. It was a quick thing. At least it was a quick thing that ended up actually being quick.

I resist sitting down at my computer, I am note sure why. I have lots of fun stuff I could be doing, but I resist. Fun stuff like sorting through pictures and at the same time taking trips down memory lane. I have my 1984 Trivia Zoom Game to set up. But the computer seems to be like work , like being serious. Like a job no one is going to pay me for.

I showered today, shaved AND put on different earings. Pretty much at that point, I had also walked the dogs and had breakfast. I should have just gone to bed, right??

I called my Granny. I adore my Granny and she is my last living grand parent and sometimes I have little panic breaths thinking that one day I will be on this planet without grandparents. Not ever really without them, they all shaped me to be the woman I am today, but still, not able to call. I loved hearing her voice, and she was so happy it was as if I had not called in 3 years. It has been 6 weeks. Too long. We were both grateful that she is not in a facility for the aged but at home with our family.

I then did sit down and work on the dog refuge website. Still more work to do to get ready for my adoption event, but I am glad I sat and worked on it. You can check it out here in Spanish, I decided to so a whole separate site in English. Doing both concurrently was too crowded.

I have a mini-rant. I cannot understand why accessing my pictures from my phone to my laptop is not stupid easy. Tried with the cable. Nope. Tried with Bluetooth. Nope. I was trying to avoid having to take my pictures from my phone, load them onto some third party site, and then access them for the website. Time for me to get serious about cloud computing. Ew. So gross.

I made Chicken Parmesan for dinner and sat and chatted with Ralph and talked about Lujo, my vegan restaurant. Could I cook for people 5 days per week? Do I want to? Can I? Important questions.

An acquaintance here in Oaxaca has COVID-19. I found out last night, she is a woman who I know through working at the dog refuge. She is funny and lovely and will be fine, but it hit home last night. Before then it was NYC friends who are fine and recovered, but Flor lives a 15 minute drive away. I've not seen her in months, but was a little broken to learn she was sick with The Stupid.

On the same day I sat dumbfounded in my home, on my sofa, watching posts on social media from friends in Canada and the USA about two things. One was large groups of people gathering in parks and on beaches. No masks. No concerns. Second was two different acts of violence against African American men in the United States. I am not sure which one affected me more. In this time when so many people are struggling, we have this. It fills me with a profound sadness. Thank goodness tomorrow is Dog Refuge day.

Food for the Soul

My friend Trina sent me an email on Friday and she talked about Food for the Soul. I have missed being in the kitchen, so today, I spent my day cooking.

I mostly learnt how to cook from my maternal grandfather. He was a chef in the military and then ran food service for an old age home. Sundays as a child meant church and then to their house for a visit and always, always food. In my mother's family, food and family and love are all mixed together in a big bowl and served up in hearty portions.

My father was a line cook and was more french trained. Smaller portions and never much leftover, you cooked for the pleasure of eating. He was a cook at the science station in Alert Bay for 6 months, and I bet that suited him well, as his cooking was scientific.

Cooking for me if like putting love on a plate. I love food, and I love flavours and I love to eat. Part of our tour business always includes a home made lunch for that reason. There is something nurturing about having someone make food for you. Nurturing for the soul, not just the body.

Ralph's Peanut Butter cookies.
Soul Nurturing.

Mostly I wanted to be back in the kitchen today because I wanted to make a care package for my friend Martha who lives here in Oaxaca. Martha and I's routine is to go for lunch or brunch and get caught up on life. Seeing as there is no place to go for lunch or brunch, I have dropped off a care package a few times. She is vegetarian and so I am practicing some menu ideas for the new vegan restaurant I will open.

On the menu in Martha's Care Package:

• Nut-free Pesto
• Quinoa Vegetable Salad 
• White Bean and Orzo Soup
• Whole Wheat Loaf (use this recipe generally but with warm water, and substitute flours, never more than half of the flour being non-white)
• Half of a Rye loaf, because it would be impossible to choose 
• Dark chocolate espresso cookies

Now I get to be excited to eat all week.

The Photography Workshop

Over a year ago now, with the help of a good friend here in Oaxaca (Martha), I planned, organized and attended a 9 hour Smartphone photography workshop. taught by The Karen Otter.

If you have an opportunity to ever take such a course, DO IT. I am actually thinking of asking her if she would be willing to try to do one online as I would adore a week of a fun class. Interested? Let me know...

But I wanted to tell you why I loved this class.

First, it gave me confidence with some photography basics and my own "eye", what I see and how I see it.

Second, it gave me permission to play with my phone. I don't know about you but in the past when I got a new phone I basically set up email, made sure that worked, and I was good to go. To actually take the time to learn what features my phone had, what they did, and how to best take advantage of them, was a gift!!

Next, it really pushed me to see things differently. The class was with about 9 other people, and we would go to the same place or walk the same path for our photography time, so trying to see something differently was a great challenge

It led to lots of play. I love having these skills in my pocket, quite literally. The class has brought about fun adventure on vacation in Mexico City, and our guests for Go Well have reaped the benefits.

I have developed some of my photos and framed them for a friend at her request, which was such a compliment! They looked great and that taught me to crop things a little differently, because the frame takes space I had not previously considered.

Things I want to learn next: food photography and dog/pet photography. A while back I thought I had lost 6 years of pictures when my computer crashed, so I also want to order, sort and backup all those great memories, and develop some, too!

The Eternal Optimist

Many of you know that I am an optimist. I am the glass half full girl. Even at times in my life when things were the most difficult, I trusted that eventually things would work themselves out the way they are supposed to. I try to not hang on too much to an ideal solution. Things will work out the way they are supposed to. I trust. Be that in God or in The Universe, but I trust.

This glass was very full. And then, very empty.

I suppose being this way has its disadvantages, but being an optimist, you see, I try not to focus on that.

Many of you also know that I strive to live my best life, and a part of that best life was running Go Well Tours over the past 5 and a half years. I love running my business. All aspects of it. I love the early mornings, I love the days when I think I sweat so much on a hike it will take me 5 days to re-hydrate. I love the guests and the friends, the questions and the research. I love Oaxaca.

During the pandemic, the time at home, the day when we finally put our tour picnic table and chairs away and into storage (this past Sunday, where they have been since March 12th) , during the walks with the dogs on quiet streets and the Zoom calls with friends, during breakfasts and cooking and dog refuge days, I have wondered what exactly I would do AFTER. Some of my friends have continued to work, maybe from home, maybe remotely, maybe they are going into an office or a shop. My business is tourism. Which means, zero work.

We've talked, Ralph and I, lightly, about what we would do, AFTER. I would like to consider feeding people, running a small vegan restaurant here in my area. So many people don't really know what vegan food is here, and we are spoiled in Oaxaca with the freshness and availability of our fruits and vegetables. It will have an international bend to it, to celebrate what I believe connects us globally, the traditions of our food.

Oh, sexy produce...

And today we went bird watching. And we talked about building a birding tour day at Yagul. It is the first time we have really talked about our business actually surviving, growing. And it filled my spirit with joy. As much as I understand the concerns, about travel, about enclosed spaces, about deaths and disease and so many unknowns, I really hope that someday I get to show people this beautiful land I immigrated to.

What's playing at the movies?

What's the thing you miss most? What can you live without forever and be just fine? 

I've been thinking about this on my daily walks, for which I am so grateful. What am I finding the most difficult to do or not do during quarantine (aka Sparkling Isolation) and what are the things that are absent that I can live without forever.

I miss just being able to go for tacos at the corner when I don't feel like cooking.

I miss the local, coming home and deciding to walk down and sit with my neighbours and listen to Leo play and have some wine and some food.

I miss hugging my friends. So much.

I miss going out of the house and not having too much thought around wherever I am going. What time is it, what day is it, will there be a lot of people there, when did I go last, do I have my face mask, do I have my hand gel, alcohol spray? How many times did I wash my hands. I was talking to Ralph about this and he equated it to the logistics of having kids and leaving the house with those kids. Stroller, diapers, food, snacks, bottles, wipes... I laughed. He said what he missed the most was that, just leaving the house. JUST going out.

I asked Carlos today (we were at the dog refuge) and he said what he disliked the most was the fear that he was bringing something home to his Mother. That every time he went out, each time he was back home, he was afraid he was going to make him Mom sick.

But, there are also things absent that I am really OK with. The bar that shares our wall at the house is closed. I am loving that. LOVING IT.

I am LOVING that there is less traffic in the city. 

I am LOVING that being in Sparkling Isolation has allowed me to reconnect with friends and family I have not connected with in ages. I LOVE THIS.

Proceed with Fear, or be fearless?

It is Day 60 of practicing isolation, of physical distancing, of being very selective about the places and times I go out.

Do I still go out? Yup.
Do I go to the corner store? Nope.

I saw an infographic about disease spread at the very beginning of the pandemic, which basically said if you reduced the amount you went out of the house, then you reduced your impact on society and reduced rate of infection. Of course, looking for the infographic now, 2 months later, was hysterically almost impossible. Try it, Google : reduce infection infographic. Click on images. Wow. Wow. People made a ton of money designing these. I did find the one I was looking for on this site.

It was simple and impactful and I have basically tried to live by this principle.

In Oaxaca, and in Mexico, we are about a month behind our northern neighbours. As the US and some parts of Canada begin to talk about opening shops and restaurants, all I feel as fear.

Years ago when I was working in International HR, I was working with an office in a country where there had been a series of car bombs outside of cafes, killing many innocent people. I was on a call with a woman who I knew well enough to ask, "How do you go about life, after...?" I grew up in Canada. I am 45 years old. I have traveled, sure, but the idea of going to get ice cream and being blown to bits was a little foreign. She considered my question and gave me an answer I will never forget. She said in the first few days, you are afraid and don't leave the house. But then you need things, and so you go out quickly, looking over your shoulder and rushing to get back inside your home. And then after a little while when nothing new has happened, you start to feel normal again.

During the pandemic I have always gone out. I walk every morning with the dogs and then in the day I take them out into our alley. We go to a grocery store once per week and the market once every three or four days. The corner store not in 6 weeks, it is too small, no face masks. The dog refuge once or twice per week.

So, as I listen to friends talk about how we are all grappling with our new reality, I am concerned. There is a good chance so many of us will get this disease. I am not running out to lick a handrail and I am not quite ready to go dancing with a crowd of people. But in a few more weeks, I think I might be ready for a glass of wine at the local. With or without a pool noodle.

A Day at the Dog Refuge

I was procrastinating a little about writing about my day yesterday at the dog refuge. I was pondering my blog all day. I know I want to share some recipes. I want to write about The Cocos and their story. I want to ponder my idea for a new vegan restaurant here in Oaxaca. But in spite of all that great material and fun ideas, my mind kept coming back to my day yesterday.

We started out at 8:30 hauling more than 60 kilos of meat into the van. We have two butchers who donate meat scraps and bones to the refuge each week. We use these with bags of rice and a 25 kilo bag of kibble and make the dogs a soup. The meat adds protein content and in theory lets us use less kibble. I'll be doing a fundraiser for a freezer in June, after we get through the next adoption event and the sterilization clinic and vaccinations done in the next two weeks.

On the way we stopped for Allison, she is the VP of Puppies. She had stacks of cardboard for the puppies to chew on and lie on and pee on, and they did not disappoint her. She has been working with us for a few months and is getting used to the rhythm of the Refuge. She is learning that we can love the puppies, but not too strong because they are fragile little things in a tough environment and often die. We had one little one this week that was not well and will likely pass over the bridge before we go back in a few days. I make soup for the puppies the night before, boiling big beef bones and soaking kibble in it overnight. Puppy mush.

We also stopped to buy ice to keep the meat for an extra day, some bleach, a rake, and up to the wood yard for some wood to continue to reinforce the fences.

Arriving at the refuge around 9:40, we haul in meat, puppy soup, bags of kibble, the rake, the bleach, and my "dog refuge bag", which holds an assortment of medications, leashes, collars, muzzles, syringes, wet wipes, gloves. I suppose what one might expect to be in a bag for a dog refuge.

We go to help Allison to get organized with the puppies. In spite of us telling Tia Migue that the puppies should not be in her rooms, they are. I find this frustrating because the floor is dirt and not clean, which just means the puppies get sick and die. In spite of my saying this about 20 times, there is no change, so I don't waste my breath any longer. I observe which little ones were in there, and I send up a little prayer and then I expect the worst.

In going to the back where the puppies are, we find a new arrival. Luna. She is terrified. She has three puppies with her. I am never sure really how they arrive. I suspect Tia Migue goes to get them. In God's honest truth, I would have rescued Luna. I have been doing this type of work, fostering and now in Oaxaca working at the refuge, for years now, and every now and again, there is a case that is more than I can harden my heart against. So Luna and I had a talk. As I washed her wounds from her neck where someone had tied her up with some sort of wire that cut into her skin, I told her she would be OK. As I washed the open wounds on her little head and wondered if the scarring and lack of fur was a burn or if it was mange, I said a little prayer. As I gave Allison parasite medication and antibiotics to mix into a big bowl of food for Luna, I asked for forgiveness for hating in my heart the person who did this to this poor girl. Her puppies will likely die, but I gave them parasite medication and we fed them puppy soup and cuddled them and played with them.

We also gave a name to a puppy that Tia MIgue had brought in last week on Tuesday, Penelope. She has a bad back injury which I was not sure she could recover from. She is very lovely, so we had a talk on Tuesday. I offered to put her down, but if she wanted to give life a try, she needed to be walking by Saturday. So, I went over and picked her up on Saturday, this little Penelope, and stood her up and whispered to her, "Like this, little one." She is so skinny my small hands cradled her ribs, but she had a good appetite and one of Luna's puppies was snuggling with her.She can make it if she wants, little Penelope. She walked around the pen when Allison was in with her, and I smiled. She is a good dog, that little one.

I could hear Carlos working and so left Allison to move on to heavy work. We have found that the safety doors we put in have swelled with the rain and are now not closing well, and what are supposed to be "heavy duty hinges" are shit, and we'll need to investigate a different hinge. So maddening. We put hours of work into hanging doors (my most hated renovation work) and to see these "heavy duty hinges" broken makes me want to write a strongly worded letter to the manufacturer. Just say on the packaging "not for ongoing use of any kind. Good for doors you will open once or twice a year".

While we were working I could hear this mewing. So I walked over to the corner of the refuge by the door and sure enough, mewing. I was TERRIFIED that there were kittens that someone had dumped, but no, after moving two dog houses, we discovered two premature puppies. How was this possible?? Only the new dogs that had come in recently were not fixed and they had not had time to go into heat. Not only do these two premature puppies mean I have a bitch that is not sterilized, it means I also have an unsterilized  male waltzing about. Tia Migue did not help or care, other than to say that it was the female that I had worked with that had mange for a year. She is terrified of me, but I managed to lure her in with food to give her medication for the mange. About 2 years ago, an entire team of us went out and worked to try to sterilize every single dog that was there at the refuge. She was missed. I was upset. We cornered the female and in spite of trying to put her in a kennel, she was having none of it and at best we cornered her and put the two babies in with her in a dog house. She killed the two little ones, and escaped again. It is normal for the mother dog to kill the babies if they are not healthy, but it doesn't make it any easier to bear witness to.

We went back to work, moving the dog houses back and wrapping the fencing to the wood framing we had installed. As we were inspecting one of the shitty hinges, we watched a dog scale the fence. I will try to get this event on video, because it is truly frustrating. But there she was, this little fluffy cute girl, up and over. Just in case the 5 dogs in the area on the other side of the fence had better snacks.

We decided to leave the next part of the fence for our next visit, and took some time to talk about what we were going to do with one of the doors that a dog had gotten their head stuck in and Don Felix (Tia Migue's partner) had cut the fencing to get him out. Now another repair.

We packed up the van, tidied the wood for next visit and I went back to tell Allison we were getting ready to go and decided to sit a little with Marveila, she was abandoned to the refuge about three weeks ago. She is beautiful and once fixed I will try to find her a home. She is the future of the Refuge. She is a breed of some sort, and I am sure she was a cute adorable puppy that someone decided now that she was 70 pounds they "didn't have the space for her". She sat beside me and I scratched behind her ears and showed her a little love.

As I was headed out, I heard Tia call me. A man had showed up on a motorcycle with two dogs in a large sugar sack. He had taken/adopted them from the refuge, but the dogs had eaten a neighbour's chicken and the neighbour had threatened to poison the dogs. Could we take them back? I looked at the squirming bag. Saying "No" meant I was condemning them to either being dumped in a ditch tied in that bag, or if the man was soft enough to take them back home, the chicken lady would poison them. I took them bag. I carried these two dogs back to where we could isolate them and we took them out of the bag and cut off the rope that the man had tied around their necks and we all stood there looking at each other. They were two little unsocialized dogs and they are now here. Two more to fix, to chase, to maybe be adoptable but after how much work?



Getting organized again to go, a "vet" arrives with maybe his grandson. He is an older man that I guess Tia Migue asked to look at Panda's eye. Panda had a tumor in his eye, and I was going to ask Dra Sonia to remove it on Saturday, but I guess Tia wanted it done sooner. He had come to give Panda a shot of antibiotics. Panda is not only the largest male dog at the refuge, he is also a biter. He bit Carlos. Only time either of us has gotten bit. This "vet" arrives with nothing other than his syringe. No muzzle, no collar, no leash. And fear. Panda is a good dog, he just has boundary issues. Carlos goes to the van and gets a choke chain, a leash and then. after I see how afraid the "vet" is, the muzzle. I put the choke chain on Panda, then the muzzle, Carlos holds the leash from the other side of the door, and the vet manages the injection as I hold Panda's head. I left my equipment there, as this guy was supposed to come back every three days. I expect it will be gone when I go back.

It's now 2:20. We head back to the city. When I arrive home, Ralph says, "How was your day?".

"It was varied.", I say. How else to describe 4 and a half hours?

Bird Porn

Four years ago, on a tour, one of our guests asked us if we did birding tours. Ralph and I replied in unison, "No!".

Then we went up hiking in Capulalpam with my sister-in-law and her husband, and Leon, our guide, asked if we were birders. "No!", in unison, we chanted. He then proceeded to make me think that maybe we could do a birding tour. Over the next five hours of hard hiking through pine forest, he would point out the occasional bird and show us in his well thumbed bird guide. He would lend us his binoculars and take a picture and zoom it in. I started to ask him questions. Bird watching behaviour questions. I am a hiker. Not a speed hiker, I love to stop and look at vistas and mushrooms, flowers and smell the forest around me. But a hiker. Taking 3 hours to walk 2 kilometres was not my ideal of a great outing.

Almost two years ago, we started bird tours. Ralph had gone out with our friend Gail and got hooked on birding, and so we started offering outings. I was the chase vehicle, lunch setter upper, driver and assistant for all things bird related, but Ralph took our guests and together he and the guests always saw a bird that was "Worth the trip!". Like the Vermilion Fly Catcher, for example.

Vermilion Fly Catcher. Photo Credit Ralph Gault.
May 2020. Yagul.

I quickly realized birding was a competitive sport. From long intense binocular discussions to camera debates, to theoretic debates about using an app to "call" the birds with different bird sounds. Which app to use to track, find, look up... endless. As part of building new tours, the "homework" involves going out to new places to consider if it would be worth building a tour to that location, and also figuring our ideal timing, stopping, walking distances. all those good things guests like you to know before you take them walking in the bush.

During this quarantine period we have gone out to bird (once we had the car back!) to Yagul, my most favorite archaeological site in the valley, and taken the side trails to see what birds were hanging around. Last week there were two great horned owls, which were amazing and I could have set up a chair and watched them for hours.

This week, I really enjoyed this little guy, who I named "Betty" before really thinking through that I should pick more masculine names for these fine featured fauna. Betty is a Rufus Capped Warbler. Super sexy, no?

Rufus Capped Warbler. Photo Credit Ralph Gault
May 2020 Yagul

Rufus Capped Warbler. Photo Credit Ralph Gault
May 2020 Yagul

Last year we went birding with a woman from Texas who was talking about when she started birding 30 years ago. In my head I was thinking, "Crap, that is so much experience!" but then I realized that when I am 75, if I started birding today, I could say the same thing! I am enjoying myself. And the Lesser Road Runners.

Lesser Road Runner. Photo Credit Ralph Gault.
May 2020. Yagul.

The Things that Make Us

Over the past months, there are days when I feel a weight of change on my body, in my bones. Your shoulders are a little achy and your ribs feel a little compressed. I believe it is the waiting. Of all the things that we have carried with us during this pandemic, the waiting is I think the heaviest of those things. Yes, there are the cancelled events, the events that happen to which we cannot bear witness (funerals, weddings, bar mitzvah). But we are waiting to start our new normal. Waiting for something that we have no idea about.

There is the odd pressure to still feel productive. To sort and organize, to start something new or finish something long overdue. I still look at my unfinished projects and not-yet-alphabetized CD's and think that I need to get to those. I have three boxes left to sort through. Maybe on Sunday. Sunday seems like a great day to sort through photos. Make a huge pot of tea and haul out the old box and sift and soft and laugh. We have watched a few episodes of Marie Kondo on Netflicks. I know I am likely the only human woman alive who had not heard of her. In case there is someone else reading this who also has no idea who I am referring to, she is a super adorable Japanese woman who helps people with lots of crap organize and sort through it. I mean lots of crap.

On my walk back from the car wash today, I was thinking that because every day is like a day off, I have not actually given myself permission to have a real day off. To lay on the sofa all day and loose myself in a novel. make art or loose myself in a sewing project. Every day has been some task, some errand, some required time to DO. Be that self imposed or not. I want a day off. Next week. Sort of like a sick day. I think maybe Wednesday. Of course I will get up and walk the dogs, and have breakfast and coffee, but then... well, who knows. Maybe I'll just take pictures of the pets all day. Or make a list of all the things I would like to accomplish. Or maybe I'll see if I can find old Oprah shows to watch. But I will give myself permission to have a day of something. What are you needing to give yourself permission to do?

A Social Media Rant. Language Alert

My Mama told me that if you couldn't say anything nice, that you shouldn't say anything at all. Now, I don't always follow that rule, but most times I find it a good rule of thumb to apply before I open my mouth, or as is the case over the last few days, respond back to a comment via social media. I try to recognize the difference when a person is sharing a story with me, are they looking for ideas about a solution or they just want me to listen? I try to consider if whatever less-than-kind comment I would make is really going to change whatever opinion, view or thought that the person had in the first place.

Occasionally, though, you just can't help yourself.

Today, a woman took to social media to have herself a little rant about WalMart's lack of delivery in Oaxaca. Kind of an important share and rant considering that right now, more people than ever are turning to home delivery options. My sister-in-law had shared a hysterical story about putting in a $40 grocery order and a week later the delivery arrives and it's onions and peanuts because they were all out of everything else on her list.

After reading through the 10 or so comments, what I wanted to comment was: Let Mrs. X shop wherever the fuck she wants to spend her money.

Today, someone else posted that to make some extra money, they were offering to make (from scratch), cookies from Argentina, 6 for 100 pesos, and deliver them in the downtown area of Oaxaca. Alfajores. One of my favorites. Isn't that nice? Home made cookies to your doorstep. Don't they look good?

Someone posted in reply the name of a shop that sells them. Not a shop that sells this particular person's cookies, just that the cookies can also be found at this shop. What I wanted to reply: Are you fucking kidding me? Who the fuck cares where else the cookies may or may not be sold. This poster wanted to offer something to sell. Don't want to buy? Then shut the fuck up.

Two people commented to a post I had shared about vaccinating 16 puppies at the refuge. Basically about the importance of keeping the vaccines cold, which we had done upon our vet's instructions. So, two people who were not there, who did not ask for clarification and made assumptions based on pictures posted, proceeded to give me a "mini-lecture" about the importance of keeping the "chain of cold". I think it was the "!!!" at the end of one comment that made me growl. What I felt like commenting: Once you have dog-poop-mud in your mouth and you smell like dog shit, have a dog piss on you while you are holding him to give him his vaccine, are covered in fleas from holding a puppy that might be crippled that someone dropped off and you are wondering if you give her a week to see if she can get herself sorted or bring her to the vet now and have her put down, have carried in three 25 kilos bags of dog food and it is barely 11 in the morning, then bitches, you can use three exclamation points in a response. Until I see you at the refuge or get your check in the mail, take your "!!!" and shove them where the sun don't shine.


But instead, I blogged, ate home made pizza and stayed hydrated.

Nostagia as the rain falls

Oaxaca is now in the official "wet season".  If we were working and hiking in the mountains still, we would be excited every morning to get out of the car and try not to race our guests to the first lookout of the morning to see how green our mountains are. We would be trying to contain ourselves as the paths turned green again, of the fog and clouds rolled through the valleys and we guessed if it would rain over lunch or not. We would be excited to see how our favorite agave were maturing.

Rainy season in Oaxaca is what I refer to as a best kept secret. People imagine monsoons, 12 hours of rain every day, Raincoats and soggy wet socks. No, rainy season is lovely cool evenings with a breeze. It means rain between 5ish and 7ish every day, maybe for an hour, maybe for 15 minutes. Maybe a sprinkle, maybe enough rain to turn the streets into rivers.

Each rainy season I have lived here, two things happen when the rains come. I can sleep so well again. Before the rains, it is so hot that we struggle to find a comfortable arrangement between electricity sucking air conditioner, stand up fan, larger lower fan occasionally propped in front of the door, on a step ladder, trying to suck the somewhat cooler air into the bedroom and blow it over the bed. The cats abandon the will to live, attempting to stretch themselves into some cooler version of themselves in various locations of the house.

And the second is I always remember as a kid, a huge rain storm had hit in Montreal, and my father told us to get our swimsuits on. We were kids, the very mention of swimsuits had us running to our rooms. He took us down the circular wooden staircase and out the back door of the shed into the lane and into the rain. The rainwater had filled the gutters of the flat roofs and the drainpipes created mini water falls. We ran through them, splashing and screaming. The warm rain on the warm day sliding off our arms and legs as we ran, chasing each other through the huge puddles. I don't recall what swimsuit was my favorite that summer, but I recall the joy of running in the rain. It didn't matter if anyone else was in the lane, running like wild animals through the downpour. We were. I recall the look of happiness on my father's face (it is one of only a few memories I have of him as a child), and I recall the lesson. Bring joy, experience joy, be bold. Run in the rain.

Cats, Walks & The Local

Any of you who have either visited us here or live here with us know The Local. The little bar, Cafe Cafe, at the bottom of our alley, was one of the attractions of the neighbourhood. Before we had even seen our apartment, we were at The Local, asking Honorio, the waiter, if we didn't finish the bottle of wine, could we bring it home. Of course, was his answer, and in the almost 6 years we have been ordering bottles of wine at The Local, do you know how many times we have actually brought a bottle home?

Once.

Every day, we walk The Cocos for about an hour in the city, down to the Zocalo, up and down the Alcala, around La Bastida park, through the plaza at Santo Domigo, up through Alvaro Carillo square, over to Conzatti Park (saying Hola to Brian and Martha around here somewhere), then back through the Cruz de la Piedra Negra park, down Los Arquitos, over a block to the market and through the alley back home. A nice walk. 3.5 kilometres. I oscillate between just enjoying my walk and training The Cocos, but I look forward to it every morning.

This morning was a little dramatic, as we had two of the street dogs with us who decided to go after a kitten that a woman was moving from under her car WITH NO PLAN. Sam and James Brown are big stray dogs, they live on the street, people feed them, and Sam regularly tries to catch birds in Conzatti park. Once I winessed a mouth full of tail feathers. The Cocos (our dogs) are little terrier things who live with two cats and the two cats they live with are The Boss. We had also run into Helen, and her dog Coco (single Coco, unlike my team of Cocos). So, there we are, all chatting and letting the dogs be silly and this ferral cat meows and the two stray dogs TAKE OFF. The lady who had caught the cat DROPS the cat, and chaos ensues. It was a little more than I was looking for on a Monday morning walk. We took our dogs and walked away, the strays following us. They shook that little kitten between me grabbing them and them dropping it again. The kitten was terrified but alive and able to run back under the car. Lesson for a Monday - if you are going to try to move a ferral cat from under your car, HAVE A PLAN. (And maybe don't do it while 5 dogs are being goofballs not 100 meters away...)

There are three or four kittens who now live down by our local. They were there when the local was still open and they would pretend to be friendly in order to lure you out of a piece of steak or chicken. Bread was fine too. They are feral and will hiss and bite when you try to get near them. Now they are fed by a neighbour. Louisa, my little female Coco, goes down every afternoon to see if they are waiting for her. And they usually are. Always just out of her reach, but still where she can smell them.

Mother's Day

Today is Mother's Day, both in Canada and in Mexico. I was at the dog refuge today, but on the way there and back, we saw people selling flowers by the roadside, bouquet size to match perhaps budget, perhaps proclamation of adoration.

In spite of the orders to stay at home, the cake shop had a lineup around the corner, people eager to but Mama her favorite cake.

Mexico's relationship with mothers is so intertwined with interesting female figures in history. The Virgin of Guadalupe, of course, gets first place. La Madre, the one who protects us all. In every church across Latin America, from a side chapel to a figurine to an entire building dedicated to Guadalupe. There is also Oaxaca's Patron Saint, the Virgin of Soledad, and of course, our little Virgin of Juquila. You get the idea. Church. Virgins. Mothers.

Second place would have to be La Malinche, who is seen locally as a traitor to her people. She was key to helping the Spanish conquer the local people, was a slave to Cortes and as far as a mother figure goes, well, let's just say she was a cunning linguist who used her charms to serve herself very well. Likely not the sort of girl you would be bringing home to Sunday dinner.

Third. La Llorona. Songs are written about her. Stories told to children. Her husband loved her sons more than he lover her. She found him cheating, drowned the sons and was then cursed to find her sons before she would be let into heaven. Evidently she steals children in the night and tried to pass them off as her own. Not sure if the moral of that story is don't drown the children or watch your own. Either way, the cheated on and tortured mother is a great mother figure of Mexican history, telenovelas and village gossip.

Ralph made me a wonderful mother's day dinner and I am not really a mother. I am a step-mom to Alison and Cameron, but he said the fettuccine Alfredo with shrimp was from the dogs. I accepted graciously.

When I got home I called my Mom and wished her a Happy Mother's Day. She never ages, not her voice or her attitude, not her pretty face and certainly not her spirit. She was no Virgin of Guadalupe, but she protected my sister and I from a lot. She's not a cunning linguist, but she made sure we were both educated and interested humans. And thankfully, she didn't have a reason to drown us and as far as I know, does not steal children. Happy Mother's Day! The two pictures are 15 years apart at my and my sister's weddings.

Beautiful Bureaucracy

Last August my front license plate was stolen. It was a huge pain and especially because it happened maybe a week after my car had been towed (another story for another time, I promise!).

When they give you a ticket here in Mexico for any type of vehicle infraction, they either impound the car or they take your front license plate. When you pay the fine, you get your license plate back. If you have not yet paid your first fine and you get stopped again for something else, they take your back plate. Third time, the car. Simple.

When I had noticed I had no plate, I groaned. It had either been stolen or I had gotten a parking infraction and had not seen the ticket. I had to call the police station and make sure there were no tickets. Nope, it had been stolen.

With Carlos's help, I learnt how to file a police report, what documentation was required and what to do when stopped by police until it came time to renew my plates.

Of course, the time to renew my plate and my registration came during COVID-19. GREAT. The thing I most wanted to do was sit in a small room with 20 other people waiting to be told I was missing my nail trimmings from 2019 and was going to need to file a special form and to come back on Tuesday when the person who processes that particular form would be working. I put what I figured would be required into my bag and walked over.

I arrive at the office and there are 4 people standing outside and a security guy. I smile (because you can totally tell I am smiling from behind my mask, and explain I am there for two processes, one for a friend (picking up a sticker for annual registration) and one for me (replacing my plate & renewing my annual registration). I am politely informed that I must have an appointment. He points to the notice on the wall.

OK, great! (Shit, that means another trek over but GREAT that they have this organized.) He offers that if I wanted to wait, if there was a break between people with appointments or someone does not show up, the staff could see me. Fabulous! I told him I would absolutely wait if he thought that was an option. He said yes.

As I stood, another man drove up, parked his car, and got out. About to walk directly into the office, with no face mask, the security officer stopped him and asked where he thought he was going. "I am going to renew my registration." No, no, no. The security officer pointed to the sign on the wall. Appointment required. I waited. And a face mask. I waited....

I was shortly after let in to the office and explained what I needed. The young man at the service desk was behind a "splash guard" that was quite well done. Area to pass papers back and forth while keeping him protected generally. He explained that this year we got new plates (who ever knows why?) and detailed (and wrote down for me) the various documents I needed for both processes, then offered to make appointments for me to come back, gave me print outs of those and I was off.

I was back at the allotted time on Friday morning, documents in had. There were four of us outside and at exactly 10 (reread that, exactly 10), my name was taken and I was ushered in, documents reviewed, card payment processed onsite, and did a little chair shuffle (4 in total) before everything was processed.

Likely the most shocking thing that happened was the person actually processing my two requests told me that the copy of my identification was missing. Now, this usually means leaving, hunting down a copy place, getting a copy, and coming back to this office to wait AGAIN. I cried a tiny bit inside and then a miracle happened. He offered to make a copy for me! Thankfully, I had already come prepared with one and handed it over, but I was stunned by the offer.

There are things that surprised me this time. That the government had so quickly set up a system to make appointments online. That the little splash guards were ordered and in place. That there had been some sort of agreement (and logic?) behind which processes would continue (renewing my vehicle registration) but others were suspended (renewing my license, but I was assured I could drive with an expired one, no problem). That it only took two visits to get accomplished what I guessed would take 5. And that someone in a government position offered to make a copy for me.

What did not surprise me was that smiling and being patient and respectful of people involved in any process goes a long way to making that process smoother. Thanks Mom.

Oh, the tales they tell.

There are many days where, in my little bubble of home, I don't really think about global pandemics and corrupt governments, dead scientists or The Experiment Known as Sweden. I walk the dogs. I pet the cats. I look at the little projects around the house and decide what I want to do that day. I have my cup and a half of coffee, my breakfast. I play my little game on my phone. I check social media. I wash my hands.  

Other than putting on my face mask to go anywhere and only doing groceries and going to the market once every 3 or 4 days, my bubble of containment is pretty closed.

And then Ralph sits down in the morning and reads me an article. In Chiapas, Mexico, one state away, villagers demanded to have a COVID-19 patient released, convinced that the coronavirus diagnosis is a government conspiracy and health authorities are trying to kill people.

In Zaachila last week, Carlos and I stopped off to visit with a family we often have worked with at the refuge, Don Feliciano and his wife Rufina. We wanted to see them, and to make sure they were OK and had everything they needed. We found them working on their land where they keep goats and grow nopal or squash or corn or whatever else they need. No face masks and wanted to greet us with big hugs, as they always have. We chatted, standing in the yard, 6 feet apart mas o menos, the dog barking in the back and the chickens pecking in the yard. Rufina looked at Carlos and asked, "Do you think it is real? This thing?" 

We both were left speechless and for those of you who know me, that rarely happens. What to say? Carlos said yes, it was real, but it was not yet in Zaachila, but that they should be careful.

I can only control what I do. I put on my face mask and I walk my dogs and I wash my hands.

And so, my bubble gets shattered. I put on my face mask. I walk the dogs. I pet the cats. I wash my hands. And I pray. I pray my family is spared any illness right now, because I think to be in hospital at this moment would be terrifying. I pray that somehow at the other end of this some people will have changed for the better. I worry not one thing will have changed. 

A Little Rant: Facemasks

I know many of you have been sporting the face mask for almost a month if not longer. My friend Claire who lives in New York reminded us that on a positive note, we no longer have any fear of people in masks. Poor bank robbers of the future. New gimmick required.

I resisted until last Friday, when my local government made it mandatory and offered to throw me in jail for three days if caught without one. Before last Friday I had been wearing mine in what I would call "high exposure instances" like shopping, but in general I was trying to avoid environments where there were lots of people and therefore, lots of potential exposure. Grocery shopping at 7 AM, the market at 3 PM, no more corner store. You all know the drill.

I am usually out for a walk at 6:30 AM for one hour with the dogs. Usually the same route, mornings are generally cooler and almost no people on the sidewalks, so the mask, although a bit uncomfortable, was bearable.

If I was out mid-day, it was not running errands in the city. Maybe I was at the dog refuge, but generally, once home from our walk, we stayed home. Until today.

My car registration needs to be renewed. I was putting this off for a variety of reasons, but mostly just because my license plate was stolen last August so I knew it was going to be a multi-step process of great Mexican bureaucracy, with copies and originals, payments at banks and more copies of said payments, and god knows what else. I figured it was going to take between 3 and 5 visits to a crowded office. I did mention above that my plan for avoiding getting sick was to avoid crowded environments.

I will post about that experience on Friday (as I have an appointment Friday morning), but what I did want to share was this. The lovely empty park bench.

And this;

Has any scientist tested these face masks at 5000 feet above sea level at noon in May in Mexico when it is 33/91.4 degrees out on a woman walking faster than she needed to uphill, soaking wet with sweat, and trying to suck in air through her home sewn face wask which is three (THREE) layers of tight knit cotton, the middle layer which was from a Wonder Woman t-shirt. Seriously, I needed to stop and close my eyes mid-hill (which I walk every morning effortlessly!!) to talk myself off the hyperventilation ledge.

I also realized that drinking water was impossible. To drink water I would have had to touch the mask (no touching the mask, no touching the face).

I arrived home thankful I had not bothered to shower or wash my hair today.

Anyone else ready to organize a "burn the face mask" party once The Stupid (COVID-19) is actually over??

Maybe you could smile?

Today was a dog refuge day. As I packed frozen meat scraps and a HUGE cooler full of meat scraps into the car on top of the three 25 kilo bags I picked up last evening, my "dog refuge bag" which has a variety of medicines, dog collars, syringes, can openers and spoons, my hat and ziplock bags, stopped off at the cheapest grocery store to buy bags of rice and the basic groceries for Tia Migue, popped in to the animal supply store  to get 6 more bags of food, a bag of puppy kibble and 3 cans of soft food, I was thinking I needed to blog about my foster dogs, The Cocos.

After unloading all of the stuff from the car, securing the frozen meat to be cooked tomorrow and looking in dismay at the adorable new all female black puppies, we were headed back to feed the puppies and Carlos took this picture.

Then he said, "Maybe you could smile?"

The reason I was not smiling is that I was feeling a little overwhelmed, a little depressed, a little useless.

I have been working at the dog refuge for likely two years now on a more consistent basis, and although most days when I come home, I feel like in spite of all the tough stuff, that I do good work, in general. But the work is hard, and today I felt that hardness just a little more keenly than other days.

The rainy season has begun. Notice how dirty I am in the picture? Rainy season. Yeah! Tia Migue, whose is responsible for the refuge, won't put the dogs towards the back of the property and insists on keeping about 30 dogs in front with her, which means that when we arrive, hauling 25 kilo bags of food, trying not to slip on the mud, we have 30 dogs trying to jump high enough to lick our faces. They jump, and their muddy paws fling dog-poop-mud into the air, onto our clothes, and most likely at least a spec gets in your mouth.

Let me be very, very clear. I don't want COVID-19. But I want dog-poop-mud in my mouth actually LESS than I want COVID-19. I did not think there was really anything I wanted less than COVID-19. Today, standing amidst my gaggle of fur friends, I realized a really bad case of flu (and potential death) might be OK if it meant I never ever got dog-poop-mud in my mouth.

The Struggle is Real

Since moving to Oaxaca, we have had Dolores come and clean the house. Every Monday and Tuesday mornings, she would arrive and hours later the house was dusted and clean, smelling like Fabuloso and joyfully fresh.

Over the last 5+ years, she has become my friend. She looks after my family and I care for hers. I was the kids` godmother of their graduation (its a thing here), and once per year we do something together as a big family. We have driven to the end of the road in the mountains to meet her sister and her sister`s family. We went to see the movie Coco together. We`ve brought the kids to Hierve el Agua and to Apoala. I went with her to get her dogs and cats sterilized. I`ve met her ducks and she has brought me bananas from her tree.

A little while after the various phases of quarantine were implemented, we decided that Dolores should likely not come to work but we would still pay her.`We felt like there was too much exposure as her husband was traveling on public transportation every day.

Today she came to pick up two weeks pay. She had been to the municipality to see about getting additional help and shared with us that her husband waited in line to register for some work the city was offering. Evidently they were looking for people to paint curbs and do other manual tasks. 3 hours per day for 10 days, $4000 pesos. As you can imagine the lines at both places were long, with lots of people trying to get what they could, what little was available. She shared that her eldest daughter asked her if they would survive. Yes, Dolores assured her, we will survive. Perhaps changed, perhaps scythed.

As we chatted outside at a safe distance, I looked at her face mask which was a lovely bright cotton. she said she had started to make masks for her and the family and her neighbours. She is keeping busy. I miss her more than I realized.

And I cleaned the living room on my own. Ugh.

The Quiet of Sundays

Sundays in Oaxaca have always been quiet. They were my most favorite day to do a longer run in the city. I could run without the bus fumes. I could run without pedestrians trying to get to work. The city was always slow to wake up, things only really getting organized around 2 in the afternoon, when families would pile around tables en masse, drinking coffee or having the typical afternoon comida (lunch, Oaxaca style, multi courses and served from 2 to 4 in the afternoon).

Sundays could be a challenge for tourists who were staying in Oaxaca City for the day. I would see them wandering about as I headed back from running around 8 AM. Looking lost, searching for something open. Hungry and sure that just around the next corner would be a coffee place or a breakfast spot waiting to be discovered.

Quarantine Sundays are even more quiet, which I didn't think was even possible. Our morning walk with the dogs is from 6:30 to 7:30 and on the Alcala, our beloved pedestrian street, we saw 5 people, and 1 beagle whose name is Raffia, or Raffi for short. The quietness seems to just settle on us, because for the last two Sundays we have been even more sloth-like if that is possible. Moving slowly and only for food or to take the dogs out to pee.

I swept the alley and cut down some weeds, but by 10:20, I was on the sofa, thinking about all those things that could be done. I did manage to mend the dog toy (Hedge) which overnight the dogs had decided needed to be gutted and his nose removed. Hugo paced while I sewed up Hedge's back and Louisa, unable to cope with the unknown (would he really be back together again, really?) lay outstretched on the blanket by my feet. I mended a pair of underwear, there was a hole right at the waistband that my thumb kept getting caught in. We watched a short documentary film, Lorena with Light Feet, about a Raramuri long distance runner.  Here's the trailer. It was inspiring and made me yearn to run, as slow as I am.

I suppose the biggest change this week and for the next month is that I have "given up" the meal planning. I am not sure how things are at your house, but in this house, I would sit on Friday nights and think about meals for the next week. Sandwiches, hot dogs, salads, pizza, pasta, soups, breads. I would pour over recipe books and return to favorites, but Saturday or Sunday would be the getting of the groceries for the week, with the weekly menu posted and Sunday or Monday was previously reserved for cooking. By Day 30-ish of this lovely sparkling isolation, with not a word of gratitude or thanks for the work required nor the lovely meals being seemingly endlessly turned out, I announced that as of May 1, I was no longer fulfilling that role. I would do dishes. I would sous-chef. I would pour wine. But meal plan and grocery lists I wasn't going to do.

Last night and tonight I sat and enjoyed Brazilian Shrimp Stew, without the Palm Oil (because it is such a pain to find and never keeps and does not add that much to the dish, in my opinion). Yum. A shout out to Ralph and Sally Sell for picking up and dropping off the shrimp for us.