GSE 2008

(I realize this seems to start in the middle of something, but when I got the chance to post last time, I did, and this takes up there the previous one leaves off.)

With all the good English speakers I greatly appreciated the easy conversation and good feeling of the group.  I really felt for Bonnie with all her moving and new families, and for Dennis suffering with his burns, but that seemed little reason not to enjoy the gracious and, for me, easy hospitality since I didn’t have to struggle to understand and/or to make myself understood.

Once the rides for everyone but Mike had shown up, and Mike had called his family, I asked if they could give me a ride back to my hotel as well.  No one had said anything to me about my return, so I didn’t concern myself with what they might have had in mind.  Later I decided I probably was expected to call Carlos, as he’d given me his card, but I hadn’t been told or asked to do so. 

These people are so kind and eager to do what they think you want to do, sometimes just asking a question creates a conversation where they think you have or want a different agenda that they have planned, and suddenly everything can change, even if that wasn’t your intention at all.  Between learning that concept and being so spoiled by the communication and coordination in Monterrey & SLP, I pretty much had been taking a very “go with the flow” approach to how we got moved from place to place. 

We had been told there might be the opportunity to visit an agave/tequila factory on the way to Cuidad Victoria, but in the end the fact that we were moving on a Sunday when the factory was closed ended that possibility, to our disappointment.

One quite positive note about our hostess of the night before having been so very caring and perceptive, she up on our concern for Bonnie, and thus we had shared with her how demanding the three moves in four days had been, and in general how tired we were all feeling.  Thus word had gone ahead of us and after our 3 hour drive to  Cuidad Vicoria we were told we mostly had free days scheduled for the next two because they were aware we all were tired.  It sounded very good to us. 

That they didn’t turn out to be such free days was the combination of our own curiosity and interest in everything, and our host Rotarians’ eagerness to help us do and see whatever we wanted. 

Cuidad Victoria is the capital of Tamaulipas State, so the following morning we met at the office of a Rotarian who is a rather high state official, and in the matter of a few phone calls we had activities scheduled for nearly everyone, beginning with a tour of the admin building itself.  Built in the early 40’s it reflected a bit of a pattern I had observed elsewhere: while for the other two states of N. America WWII dominated nearly all of their enterprise and activity, in Mexico, where by law they are forbidden from involving their forces in conflict outside their borders, it was a time of renewal, and a lot of building took place. 

In Matamoros we later learned the port of Bagdad boomed during the US Civil War in the 1860’s due to blockades and disrupted shipping in the American south, then collapsed shortly after the war ended and the need for the role they had played disappeared.  Perhaps a similar economic boom occurred in Mexico during the second war; at least that might explain why so much urban renewal occurred at that time.

In any case thanks to the kind flexibility and eagerness to please of the Victorians, Bonnie got to visit more DIF facilities, Jennifer saw water and maybe more garbage, Dennis & Mike visited various police activities, including their mounted brigade, after which we learned none of today’s “Mountie” training involves anything to do with horses.  Why wouldn’t one acquire that bit of trivia on a trip to Mexico?  GSE is nothing if not filled with surprises.

Because of a scheduled host family having to back out at the last minute, Mike and I ended up at the same home.  Francisco & Leticia were so gracious it worked out fine, except it put a lot of pressure on Mike to translate all the time.  Leti understood English perfectly and spoke it well if at times haltingly as she searched for a word, but for whatever reason the conversations seemed to always end up in Spanish, leaving Mike having to translate.

There are four Rotary Clubs in Victoria, and so they kindly combined meetings so we could do our presentations just twice and reach everyone who was interested.  Rotarians in Mexico really are a close family.

After a dozen more hugs and goodbyes, we again managed to get all our trappings into a huge SUV and were off Wednesday a.m. for the 3-hour drive to the border town of Matamoros on good road.  Tamaulipas is by far the most diverse state we visited.  The ports of Tampico and Matamoros are very different, the capital is different again surrounded by mountains and almost desert.  There are mountains in the southwest, and sub-tropical agriculture between them.  And the prairie going north to the border feels a lot like the US Midwest with field upon field of sorghum crops sprawling away from the highway in both directions.

In Matamoros we were met at the Holiday Inn at the appropriate time and whisked to the Museum for a Rotary meeting, where we presented in our traveling clothes, but things went fine and we were well received, as always. 

Our three nights in Matamoros were at a Best Western hotel in the heart of old town, which was built in the old Mexican style of a giant atrium, with the arches along the hallways on each of the four floors and the rooms along the outside.  We were a block from the old market, which was a very nice location. 

At the meeting it was mentioned to us they were happy to be hosting us so we could see first hand that recent publicity about the M. being unsafe was simply not true.  Sadly, the market was nearly deserted when we had a few moments to visit, but it certainly felt safe and the vendors were less aggressive and perhaps the most charming ofany border town market in my experience.

One of the most interesting aspects of the Matamoros/Brownsville, TX relationship is that it is one community.  Seemingly half the Rotarians we met either live on one side and work on the other, or have permanent residence in the US, but live part of the week on the M. side because that’s where their work is, etc.  The reason for being Mexican Rotarians instead of Texas Rotarians is the recognition there is more need for humanitarian aid in MX. 

A significant portion of the people we spoke with send their kids to school in Brownsville, regardless of which side they live on.  Certainly this is a different image of “the border” than I had envisioned from what one hears from politicians and in the news.

One thing all of us looked forward to was seeing a maquiladora, the NAFTA inspired factories which dominate border life in many border cities.  Again the reality, compared to my expectations, was stunning.

It is fair to conclude we would be shown a most positive model, but clearly the Delphi plant we were shown was a working factory  producing high tech car radios and other electronics, and whatever the opposite of “sweatshop” might be, that is what we saw.  The place was high tech, organized, and very clean, both physically and environmentally.  The staff looked relaxed and happy.  No one seemed stressed by the pace of the work, and the individual steps required to move the product from raw materials & components seemed well engineered and efficient. 

We had been told we’d be presenting at the evening meeting, but it turned out to be a social gathering outdoors at the Museum again.  Most enjoyable.

Our last full day began very slowly.  We were meant to be picked up at 10, but punctuality hadn’t been a hallmark of our recent experiences, so it was closer to 11 before we called to learn what was meant to be happening.  There had  been an illness we were told, but someone would be there in half an hour.  After that the day went wonderfully, except when we got to the hotel near Harlingen Airport there didn’t seem to be a reservation.  Our host got on the phone and sorted that out, but it should have been a red flag for me.  Instead I just foolishly concluded it was more of the style of how things proceeded. 

This was a total meltdown of leadership on my part at this point.   I had given up being pro-active fairly early on, as it seemed my inquiries created more confusion instead of less and until this incident things had always gotten sorted out happily.  This time it was very different.

In the morning the arranged taxi’s were on time, and we were at the Harlingen airport on time, only to learn our tickets were to have left from Brownsville, an airport 20 or 30 miles away.  Before we left I had questioned why we would be flying from Harlingen, but was told that is the airport which serves Brownsville, so when I got the itinerary saying Brownsville I didn’t question it.  Bad, stupid mistake.

When we discovered my error our options looked grim.  I tried to call the travel agent who set things up, but it was a Sunday morning and I got nowhere.  Later when I had time to think about it, I realized it wouldn’t have done much good had I reached her.  There was a flight leaving at 8 something, but when I learned it was fully booked I wasn’t sure what my next step should be.

Dennis, on the other hand, quickly worked out a very detailed plan involving us being listed on standby for the first flight, then, buying tickets on a later SouthWest flight if we didn’t get on the first.

Checking our bags added to the chaos and stress everyone already felt.  Several of the bags were considerably over the 50 lb. limit, so the five of us did an almost slapstick comedy routing moving items around until everything made it under the weight limit.  It was at that point I discovered the scales were rather arbitrary as well.  My bag which had been at 41 lbs. was again 41 lbs. after I’d added Mikes blankets and other items.  In any case all bags got checked, then we got our boarding passes for SW, just in case. 

It was going to be a rush if we missed the Continental flight, because we’d need to physically retrieve our heavy luggage and bring it to the SW desk. To rearrange weight I had moved the projector from my suitcase to my carry-on, and as we were going through security they asked me if I had electronics in my bag.  I said a camera, which of course wasn’t what they were seeing so I got called out of line for a personal check.  They were calling my name by this time to board on standby, but kept moving down the list since I wasn’t there yet.

Fortunately, because we were “revenue” passengers, we were moved ahead of the discount standbys and when I didn’t respond, one of the team’s names was called.  Finally when I got there and my name was called, only Bonnie was left.  I asked if she could go instead of me, mostly because it was my screw-up which had us in this terrible situation, but I’d have a much better chance of moving my luggage to the SW flight than she would have.  Finally they agreed she could go, and then a few minutes later they called me, so we all made it, thanks to Dennis’ quick thinking.

I called and quickly cancelled the five SW tickets I’d just bought, and we were on our way.

We’d been told there’d be a Rotary desk at Houston airport to cover our travel to the ship, but we didn’t find one and instead of wasting more time I bought passage for the team on the Carnival shuttle, and we were on the cruise.

We had been told we’d have 25 minutes on the District Conference program, but when we were handed the actual schedule, we had 45 minutes. 

In the end our team effort put on a really well-received presentation.  I collected all our photos on my laptop.  Bonnie & Jennifer sorted and selected 180 or so, which we then all winnowed to around 150.  I got some technical help from the ship’s crew and was able to use a resident program on my computer I’d never had reason to use before to run the slides on a timed basis.  We finally agreed 5 seconds per slide was about right, Mike had some Latin music we would put on at the end. 

With Mike’s flawless Spanish he did a quick intro for us, then we presented our standard 20 minutes presentation.  Next we followed with each of us giving a few minutes of our impressions of our adventures.  I was the only one who gave mine in English.  Both Jennifer and Bonnie spent much of the day writing theirs in Spanish and certainly to my ear they sounded great.  To my knowledge neither of them spoke a word of Spanish when they were selected.  On more amazing GSE accomplishment.

The audience seemed to enjoy the slides, and find themselves in the appropriate ones as we were talking about our trip. When we finished and the music came on we all went back on stage and I invited the District Governor up to present the gifts from our Governor Norm Watts and our team.  As Jorge Emillio came up he started clapping to the music and dancing, and ere long the whole place was on their feet clapping and swinging.  It was a wonderful ending and the music stopped within a minute of 4 p.m., exactly at our allotted time.  Sure, there was a lot of luck involved, but to the audience it came across like we knew what we were doing.   Jorge Emillio’s first words to me were congratulations on a wonderful presentation, and still people talk to us about it when we meet at the elevators or elsewhere on the ship.

After my almost disastrous failure to get us here, I am so pleased few or none of the fine people who have hosted us have any idea the stress I put the team through, and certainly from the congratulatory reactions from all the Rotarians and their spouses for the rest of the week, our team represented District 5020 very well.

 

I apologize to any readers who slogged through this post ere now.  On a borrowed computer with a slow connection I hurriedly copied and posted what I had written to that point, but did not have the chance to view it.  Somehow my paragraph spacing disappeared, and the last part didn’t post at all.  I have a signal on my own computer here in Matamoros, so I have edited this a bit. 

The remainder of Sunday was an hour’s drive into the country to Santa Maria del Rio, where Nacho owns a lovely vacation hacienda, with a large yard, even room for kids to play futbol (soccer). Everywhere one goes in the world Rotary operates locally and differently.  Many of the people in Nacho’s club, Union 2000, went to school together or otherwise have been friends for a long time, so their social lives revolve around each other as well.  Their wives and children are also friends, so all of the half a dozen or eight couples with children who came attend a similar w/e in the country several times a year, we learned. In addition to the kids, the parents of one of the Rotarian’s came and were known by everyone.  It seems the norm here that other Rotarians in one’s club are the primary “society” with whom people interact.  It was warm, relaxed, and charming for all of us.  Mike who always makes an effort to be good to kids, ended up playing soccer on the lawn with a mixed batch of girls and boys while the rest of us mostly ate and schmoozed with the very relaxed and welcoming crowd.

 

Santa Maria del Rio is famous for rebozo scarves, so before we walked to town to check them out, Nacho made the most caring of gestures.  He called me aside and told me they would be giving scarves to us, and asked my advice about telling the team so they wouldn’t buy more unless they really wanted two.  That is so typical of the sensitive caring of Nacho.  Starting with Marco in Monterrey, our hosts have been really special people and totally kind and caring.

 

Organization and planning, on the other hand, has been a bit more in the style one might expect in a Latin country.  A schedule gets published, they learn one of us wants to see something, phone calls are made, the schedule gets adjusted and we do something different.  All good.  All interesting on some level or another, but often a surprise.

 

Monday morning brought a visit to Casa Don Bosco, a remarkable orphanage built on a massive campus on the edge of SLP.  They have 120 children 7 and above; most it seems, permanently.  They go to school and those who have the interest and/or aptitude go to college, via scholarships which are found for them.  The capacity is 250, but there isn’t money for more children at the moment.  It cost about 1200 per year for one child. 

 

The manager of Casa Don Bosco, Tio Pepe, is an ex-businessman and is working to put Casa DB on a firm financial footing.  After touring the children’s facilities (clean, spacious, pleasant) we were shown the conference center which they operate to make revenue.  They have facilities for 100+ conferees, a dining hall, conference rooms, and a large chapel, still being finished inside.  The children are part of the hosting and staff when conferences occur, and the revenue goes to CDB.   In another room we were shown two dozen carved pillars being readied to go into the chapel.  They cost $2000 ea.  A case can be made the decision to spend that kind of money on chapel adornment when there are more kids on the street needing homes, but Tio Pepe is building for the future. 

 

The next thing he showed us was an official Toyota training facility on campus.  Toyota built and outfitted it, and the only revenue CDB gets from it so far has been for food and lodging for the trainees.  However, in two years when Toyota’s plant opens in SLP, all their training will move to the new place, and they will leave the auto training shop and equipment to CDB when they go.

 

For $100 a month a Rotary club could adopt a Mexican orphan and pay his schooling up through vocational or collegiate level, and I’m convinced it would be money well spent.  From being homeless or abandoned or abused to a productive life seems an almost impossible transformation, yet it appears they are doing successfully it at Casa Don Bosco on a regular basis.

 

After we walked past the school buildings it didn’t seem like we were going to get to see any children, so I asked if we could.  We circled back and went to the classroom block, where we began piling the hockey jerseys, baseball caps, school supplies etc. we’ brought.  The kids came out and lined up to receive a cap or jersey.  They were charming, well disciplined, and seemed very happy to receive our gifts.  We also gave an RCMP (from Dennis the cop) sticker to each, and they were very popular. 

 

Later we were to visit the Transito.  I think we all thought it was going to be the bus company, but it turned out to be the transit police.  It started pretty slow with an important guy in the courtyard explaining what they did in Spanish.  The thing I remember most is about 25% of the people who went by saluted him (palm down, elbow out, hand brought sharply to the heart), and he acknowledged by saying gracias.

I’m sure the form is different in many places in the world, but this was the first time I’d seen salutes acknowledged with “Thanks!”

 

About the time I was seriously bored, we were brought upstairs to a 40 by 40 room filled with computer screens.  One wall was all screens, filled  various sizes of images of traffic hotspots.  We were shown how operators could move cameras around and zoom in on license plates or persons in the street.  We were both amazed by the technology and the “Big Brother” aspect of what we saw.  Dennis says, to his knowledge nothing similar is done in Canada.  He’d love to have the information when he is on patrol, but like the rest of us had mixed feelings about the privacy aspects.  Later we saw a less sophisticated but similar surveillance process in Tampico, and were told it has reduced incident response times by 40%. 

 

We had a tour of part of the university, met the mayor in the city council chambers in a building which once been the obisbo (housed the bishop) and had our photo taken in his palatial office that overlooked the lovely central plaza.

 

We all got to accompany Jennifer to the city dump, always the highlight of any city for her.  With public transport and solid waste/recycling dominating her portfolio in Comox/Strathcona District on Isla de Vancouver, she had been ecstatic to learn the Metrorey (rail & bus) system in Monterrey is powered solely by electricity generated from methane gas captured as organic waste breaks down at the landfill.  In SLP we learned from the mayor they are attempting to do a similar process, but at the moment the 500 or so “informal” recycle workers who live by the dump and pore through the garbage seeking anything they can sell or use are concerned this will end their livelihood.  The perhaps hundreds of dogs who also live at the dump would likely also be concerned, if they could read the papers.  Due to this concern, we were given a security escort during our visit, and we were told not to be seen taking photographs.  Jennifer got out and strolled around and chatted with officials a bit, the rest of us stayed in the vehicles with the windows tightly rolled up and the AC cranking.

 

Next morning we were interviewed on a live local TV broadcast by an almost young woman whose name was the name of the show.  She competently questioned in English and translated the answers of the three of us who chose to talk with her in English.  My vocabulary in Spanish about the repetitive parts of our story continues to improve, and her translations seemed excellent to my improving ear.  One highlight of the event for us was when Nacho, our local host who was the last of the interviewees, was speaking with her his cell phone rang.  He gracefully slid it out of his breast pocket, turned it off, and held it behind his back for the rest of the interview.  Bonnie said later she had been watching the monitor and during that sequence the camera was on Nacho’s face so only those of us on stage with him were able to enjoy the distraction.  We learned right after it was one of Nacho’s friends not realizing it was live calling to say, “Hey, bro, you’re on Channel 13” or something to that effect.

 

This is a s good a place as any to mention one of the more fascinating, to me at least, aspects of what we’ve learned here: cell phone ethics.  Our first morning in Tampico we were at a breakfast meeting with six local hosts, at least two of whom were city government employees.  When I noticed the gent across from me was speaking into two cell phones, one at each ear, I began to appreciate just how dominant they are.  At one point between the six people, there were ten cells on the table in front of them, and twice in that 40 minute breakfast I noted people talking into two and several more times people were talking into one, and programming or text messaging or otherwise looking at the screen of the other.

 

I’ve attended U.S. Rotary meetings where if your cell rings it’s an automatic fine.  At my club you turn them off, but if you really need to take a call, you sit near the door and run outside as soon as it rings.  At a Rotary meeting in Tampico, I noted three cell conversations going on in the audience while the presenter was speaking. I’m sure there were many more.  It is the form hereabouts.

 

I have no conclusion nor even an opinion as to which ethos provides the greatest good for the greatest number, but perhaps they are both “best” for the society in which they occur.  Mexicans seem far more connected personally with the people with whom they do business or otherwise interact.  When they happen to meet on the street, it’s handshakes and kisses all round.  When they chat on the phone, often there are three or four sentences about health, family, are you doing well, etc. before they get to the point of the call.   That’s the protocol; suspend any conversation in front of you and answer your phone.  All of the Rotarian drivers we have had so far answer and talk, dial and/or read the screen while on the road, even in city traffic. The one time a driver pulled off to talk, was at the port, and he later explained for security reasons, cell phones are banned near the exit inspection site.

 

Another interesting variation on how we do things differently than our Mexican brothers is least 60% of our host families so far have children named after both the father and the mother.  It does make it easier to remember the children’s names when you are meeting people in large groups, but there must be some kind of inflection used when speaking about their kids instead of their spouses which is lost on me, but nearly every Geraldo & Sandi would seem to have a Geraldo & Sandi Junior.

 

There were warm hugs and even a few tears Wed. a.m. when we met for the last time in the Costco parking lot at eight to do the luggage shuffle one more time.  Again, after several attempts, it all fit, and after more hugs and happy tears, we headed out on the six hour drive to Tampico, with a stop along the way at a beautiful falls and camping area called Micos, where Mike struck up a conversation with three young men and soon they were treating us to a beer.  Turned out they were police officers from a division in SLP Dennis had visited.

 

With so many people involved and no central command, it is not surprising no everyone is on the same page at all times, so our arrival in Tampico was earlier than the last communication said we’d be, but eventually Marcella and her 16-year-old son Daniel showed up and asked which one was Jennifer.  I tried to pawn Mike off on her but she wasn’t having any.  She hugged Jennifer like she was a lost daughter and within two minutes was sitting on the steps just as calm and familiar as if she’d known all of us for years.  Like the generosity, the warmth of these people is almost stunning.  Eventually two Pepe’s and a Marco showed up for the other three, but my scheduled host’s wife had been detained in Mexico (it has taken me awhile to catch on to Mexico means “City’ the way New York means “City” unless otherwise defined) sorting out affairs after the death of a parent, and as I was told later, no Mexican male could possibly entertain on his own.  From what I’ve observed, whether women work outside the home or not, the men are not so involved in domestic duties.

 

I had mixed feelings about the hotel idea.  As a long time traveler I loved the idea of being on my own with no one I needed to be nice to or pay attention to, on the other hand this is such a rare opportunity to meet people in their homes and learn about how Mexican life really works, at least for those in Rotary, I was sorry to be missing that experience.  I had more than an hour before I was to be picked up for at 8:30 for a Rotary meeting at the Madera Club.  On the way I learned Madero is one of three cities which make up “Tampico,” the third being Altimira.

 

When I got there the team was there, but only one or two Rotarians.  Eventually they turned up and the meeting started. We were shown a  very interesting promotional video of Tampico and Madero which had an option to be played in English, which was wonderful for me, at least.  We did our presentation probably the best we’d done it so far and then other meeting business went on.  When our rides began to show up, I hitched with someone back to my hotel, but we learned later Mike’s host and a few others wanted to stay and pick his brain and drink whiskey into the night so it was after one by the time he got away.  We were told there’d be long days as part of GSE, and we were not lied to.

 

In the morning my ride was on time, so I got to the Camino Real ahead of everyone else, but soon the rest of the  team showed up and eventually the Rotarians and city officials as well.  I’d misread the schedule (they used a word for breakfast I’d never seen) and had filled up on the sweet buns offered at my hotel, so I couldn’t eat the terrific looking eggs and meat selection available at the meeting.  After an hour of talking about what we’d come to do we went to city hall where Victor, a young almost Bill Gates looking guy, we’d breakfasted with led us up to his office.  He was met by eight or so supplicants of some sort, it appeared, but who turned out to be “the press.”  We all crowded into his office where they held cameras and recorders in his face and he answered questions for ten or 15 minutes, then they all shook hands and said their goodbyes.  They come once a week, and this just happened to be the time, it turned out.  Eventually he made a dozen phone calls and we were off in several directions.  The schedule said “tour of historic Tampico,’ but eventually I learned that had been put off until afternoon. 

 

I went with Dennis & Mike to the police offices and the women went other directions.  After another interesting Big Brother show, we went to the driving test section where both Dennis & Mike wrecked the simulator vehicle several times before I was getting motion sick and went to wait in the foyer.  Very interesting process, but I’m not sure anyone should end up getting a license based on what I saw. 

 

We agreed to go to another police location which turned out to be half an hour away and by the time we got there it was already past the time we were meant to be at the 1:30 Rotary meeting back in Tampico.  It took us some time to get that sorted out, but as it turned out I was really glad we were so late since my seat at the end of the head table was directly under an air conditioner creating a wind chill factor I’d rate at about 60º F.  An hour of that was rough, two might have killed me.

 

After the meeting we got our interesting tour.  I’m embarrassed at how little of Mexican history I know.  They had just as many equivalent  Battles of Bunker Hill etc. in the process of breaking away from Spain as we did from England, and as much heartache and death in their next revolution as we did in our civil war.  When the tour ended, the schedule said we were to collect at the tennis club where a tournament was going on.  Our police escort had tailed us though the city tour, since they’d promised Dennis the remainder of his police event, and he agreed to deliver the rest of us to the tennis club.  We were all tired very at this point, but trooper that Dennis is, he said he would not now fail to show his appreciation for the police gesture, and Jennifer opted to join him.  At the tennis club there was no one from Rotary to be seen but we eventually learned the Rotary tournament started in an hour and a half.  Mike, Bonnie, & I spent some time having a beer and venting a bit about how the organization in Tampico was clearly not up to the standard we’d come to expect in Monterrey & San Luis Potosi.  We recognized what we were experiencing was exactly what we had talked about in training, and that it was only because the first two stops had so exceeded our expectations that we were experiencing some frustration.  Bonnie had her own cross to bear.  For whatever reason, she had to change host families three times during our four-night visit, and none of the adults spoke English in any of the homes.  Add the mid-90’s heat, to long days, to speaking in a language she’d never studied until a few months ago, to meeting a new family every night, she was doing her best but was nearing the end of her tether.

 

About the time we’d decided to get taxi’s back to our respective places, Pepe showed up and things began to make sense.  We were to meet with his Rotary club there in an informal meeting, and when he learned how tired everyone was he told us it would be very informal and he’d move the schedule up for us.  That simple, kind gesture changed our perspective immediately and when Dennis & Jennifer showed shortly thereafter thrilled with what they’d seen, we were pretty much back on track.  The evening meeting was totally social.  Nice people, beers & tasty light Mexican fare, and an early night by GSE standards.  That and the fact that things didn’t begin until 10 the next morning also improved everyone’s spirits.

 

At ten we again collect at Camino Real to begin our tour of the port.  Very interesting and very modern.  We had to don hard hats and day-glo vests for part of the visit, at which point the team started singing YMCA the first time we got out of the vehicle.  Perhaps I’m the only one who didn’t know it was The Village People who did the song, and they were construction workers or something.  Anyway, we have the photo, with a huge crane with a bus body being loaded onto a truck behind the team.  We learned the bodies used to be made in Mexico but now only the chassis are made here, and are fitted to the bodies which come in from Brazil.  The process of tracking and moving and storing and loading containers is very high tech and very efficient these days.  Most ships are in port less than eight hours, we learned, and 95% both deliver and collect cargo.

 

After the tour I rode back with the port director Adonay (a Rotarian who was the reason we got to see a lot of things most Tampicans probably won’t ever see) to the seafood restaurant.  He is a retired sea caption so we traded stories about favorite cities and what there is to enjoy in various places (for happiness and ambiance, it is Brazil, I learned, but he also particularly enjoyed the northern European cities like Rotterdam & Antwerp.)  He had read my bio about enjoying wine, so that evening at the party he showed up with two bottles for me to try.  The kindness and generosity of Mexicans continues to amaze.

 

At the seafood place they again just kept bringing food.  Crab soup, ceviche, and trays of deep fried sea fish & tiny squid.  I stopped eating three times, but eventually I’d have to have just one more piece.

 

The organizers of our day had been Raquel & Ruben, and the evening event was an outdoor party in their charming, cozy courtyard.  Maybe they call it a garden.  We’ve noted most city dwellers here have no yards at all by our standard, so this lovely walled area of grass and trees turns out to be a bit of a clubhouse for the Altimira Rotary club, I came to understand.  The perfect hostess, sweet Raquel, had a light dinner of fresh made and cooked tortillas (while we watched) and various fillings and let us make our own, knowing we had each eaten more lunch than any two people would require.  The highlight was a trio of Huasteca singers, a local tradition.  Dressed in white guayabera shirts and cowboy hats, the play a violin, a tiny guitar and an oversized guitar, and sing in somewhat falsetto voices.  Such happy, happy music.  Part of the deal is they make up songs about the people at the party.  I was told they said the Americano was looking sort of glum until he had some wine and now he is happy.  My man Adonay…

 

Sunday was a day at the beach.  A day we’d all been waiting for.  Marcella and Amilcar, Jennifer’s hosts, organized everything and we joined them for what we were told is a typical Sunday for them: acooler of drinks, a tray of sandwiches & chips and snacks, and a canvas gazebo to hide from the sun.  The beach is 20 ks or something, and there are people the entire length on weekends.  Hard brown fine sand, fairly heavy surf this day due to some wind storms out in the gulf, and more sun than we needed.  Except for Dennis’ sunburn, it was a perfect day.  I was followed Sunday night by another outdoor social event with a different Rotary club, this time at an almost palatial garden that sloped away from a large house to a Palapa, an open, thatched roof area with cement floor  for picnics etc.  More English speakers at this group than most, so it was particularly easy for me to enjoy every conversation without the concentration and energy required to understand and add a thought using my combination of two nouns and hoping they’ll add the correct verb as they hear it…  When the charming hostess learned how tired we all were she said she’d move dinner up for us, so we were eating by ten, probably.

 

 

The original schedule had us leaving at 0730.  I’m not sure if the delayed beginning began with Mike’s interview opportunity or the request from DIF (social services agency) to have a small ceremony as they accepted the junior hockey jerseys we were giving them for the children’s facility we visited Wednesday, but none of us were sad we had the extra hour or two of sleeping time this morning or that we could pack and check out after breakfast.  The woman from DIF seemed very pleased with the gift and Mike felt very positive about the interview.  Packing the gigantic Nissan SUV, however, took on the aura of a Chinese acrobat show.  (The vehicle, we learned the first day, had been loaned to Marco by District Governor Jorge Emilio to squire us around the city for the week.)  Probably every item of baggage got put in and taken out three times, and got rotated or otherwise tweaked three or four in addition.  In the end we put two items on the roof and the single back, back seat we left open felt like the cockpit of a fighter jet.  We were on the road at noon.

Marco had told me early in the week he wanted to drive us the six hours so we could see the old village of Real de Catorce and the leaving early was so we’d have time to enjoy it.  I figured with our start en retardo the stop would be off, but wonderful Marco hauled us 50 k’s across the desert and up the mountain anyway.  On the way he explained R de Catorce had been a mining town for some centuries, but the ore gave out long ago and the city was mostly forgotten until recently it has been “rediscovered.”

As you approach the town there is a parking area and the mouth of a narrow tunnel.  It is one way, so you wait until the cars coming out emerge and then you are allowed to go.  It is the most memorable tunnel in my experience.  Two or three k’s long, cobble roadway, very narrow and a bit snaky, and dusty.  At the other end we entered an old stone city which does not appear to have had any new construction for decades: Real de Catorce.  The first impression is it is an austere and tiny place, almost a ghost town, but as we inched along the rough cobble track that at first appeared to be the one through street, the town continued to arc up and across the hill. There was a sign closing the road ahead, so Marco took the only right available and started up a steep, rough incline which wound to the left a maybe thirty meters up.  Loaded as we were the big Nissan strained and lurched a bit and Marco decided to seek another route and backed down onto the main street again.  He asked a local teenager how to proceed.  The lad told him something then stepped up on the running board and grabbed the roof rack to become our guide or passenger for the next few hundred yards as we wound down a narrow track between low stone buildings with the occasional cluster of Indian looking people sitting in doorways smiling and offering advice or otherwise greeting us or our hitchhiker.  Somewhere about the time we reached a cross street our guide stepped off and we took a right up the hill two or three streets to another right near a square and drove back parallel to the way we’d come and parked on a corner. 

When we were all out, not a simple move to clamber over and around all our hand luggage and trappings particularly for the person in the very back, Marco said we had an hour an a half to explore, but he was going to have lunch and gestured toward a simple sign that said “hotel y restaurant” or equivalent.  We all decided to eat and followed him in.  I don’t know if there is a term for “rustic chic” but I now have photos of what rustic chic looks like.   Dark stone walls, a few primitive artifacts of obscure function from the mining days hung here and there. Maybe six tables.  At the far corner a doorway about five feet high lead down four or five stairs into the kitchen.  A teenaged lad passed out menus and Marco ordered two pitchers of juice.  My chili relleno was excellent, as were the fajitas Dennis & Mike ordered.  Jennifer had chicken with mole sauce, but I don’t recall what she said about it.  Marco ordered pizza and shared bites all round.  Excellent.

The baños were out through the simple lobby and near the back, so we saw how charming the place would be for a few night’s stay.  Just the kind of a place to share with the love of your life.

Afterwards Marco showed us the church.  Lusciously appointed and so colorful and bright compared to the harsh, gray-brown stone of the village.  For hundreds of years it had been a gold mining town, and one readily saw in that church what some of that gold paid for.   Other highlights for me were a VW van with two plastic chaise-lounges tied to the top pretending to be a car-top carrier, a sign pointing to the plaza de toros (a bull ring? the town is distinctly bigger than it seemed at first glance) and the cock fighting ring.

Picture a miniature Greek theater; a round arena maybe 20 feet across enclosed by a two-foot circular wall.  Stone seats sharply rising a dozen or 15 rows all the way around.  Exquisite proportions, all in miniature, and the whole thing nestled behind one of maybe five doorways in a wall running the length of the block on a sharply sloping side street.  ‘Tain’t the kind of thing one runs across just anywhere.

Our maravillosa detour put us about an hour en retardo for our arrival in San Luis Potosi, but Marco assured me it would be no problem being late because “They are all Rotarians, Warren, and they welcome the opportunity to be together and chat.”  We learned later just how true this is in SLP.

I’m confident zero “sub-currents” accompanied our arrival.  We were wonderfully warmly met and after ten minutes of shaking hands, kissing cheeks, and sharing good will Marco asked me if I’d like to introduce the team or if he should do it, which was, of course, a no-brainer.  I hope I said something like “not only do you do it so well, you can do it in a language everyone here can understand.”  Maybe I also said, “except for me,” but probably I just thought it.  In actual fact, having heard the intro several times, and knowing what he was supposed to be saying about each of us, I followed his Spanish fairly well.

As we were driving into San Luis Potosi the team had been joking about the pressure of “who would get who” for the home-stays.  Bonnie, the social worker, compared it to maybe 5% of what a kid meeting foster parents for the first time would experience; no idea what the expectations or norms might be, or even how much language you might share.  Somebody hoped it wouldn’t be like choosing teams in junior high where you just waited and prayed someone would choose you before you were the only one left.  We all chimed in with scenarios.  “Gee, Dennis is big, I’ll bet he eats a lot, Jennifer looks a lot more ‘affordable’.” 

There is a wonderful, albeit frustrating at times, childlike aspect to GSE: the idea that you are putting yourself into the hands of caring others who will decide what is best and right for you to be doing at any given moment.  To badly paraphrase Robert Frost: a boy could do worse than to be put into the caring hands of San Luis Potosi Rotarians.

The form in Mexico, or at least this part, is everyone shakes hands with everyone else, and where a woman is involved an air kiss or an actual kiss on the right cheek is part of the greeting.  This happens when you meet and when you say goodbye.  Once the luggage was unloaded and divided we all went somewhere to eat at around 11.  My host Julio & Dennis and his Gernando and Nacho (coordinator here for GSE) & Marco and I all ended up at a taqueria which was nearly full of families eating.  We put two tables together out on the patio in the pleasant 80º heat and a bunch of types of food, mostly involving tortillas, cheese, & meat. 

Sometime after midnight we finished eating, and as I was saying goodbye to Marco for what I thought was the last time he Julio said he would be staying with us.  He had told us on the way down he’d be staying in an hotel, but Julio offered and he accepted.  I ended up in Julio Jr.’s room, and Marco in Melissa’s.  J. Jr. & his buddy Andreas were crashed on the fold-out bed in the TV area upstairs and neither so much as rolled over as we banged our way upstairs with my heavy bags and all.

Breakfast would be at nine.  Julio’s wife Angelica (on-helica) and I arrived in the kitchen at about the same time a few minutes after nine and she began putting out food. Huevos rancheros for me, huevos con jambon for Melissa when she arrived.  Over the next 45 minutes people drifted in and Angelica kept preparing and serving food until everyone was fed then she cooked one last batch of eggs for herself.

At ten we did a city tour on a double-decker bus with another Marco, and older Rotarian who could pass for the retired “Marlborough Man” translating the driver’s pitch for us.  Old town San Luis Potosi (no, they don’t seem to ever call it SLP, as in NYC, no matter how many times in a sentence it occurs) has been designated, I understand, a UN Heritage site and spending a day there it is clear just why.  It is beautiful, largely unchanged for a century, and several of the buildings go back more than 300 years.  I had to keep reminding myself I wasn’t in Spain or Italy.

Next we visited the Fredrico Silva gallery; an entire building dedicated to and built to house his work.  He is neither from SLP nor nearby, and I still have no understanding of why the major artist’s work is here instead of where he is from, or at least in a major city, but here is where it is.  Had we not recently visited Monterrey Historical Museum it is hard to say what I’d have thought of the work, but with the earlier people’s temples and art as background, Silva’s work was generally thought provoking and powerful.

The afternoon brought Churches and rain.  When I asked our wonderful host if the weather report had predicted rain, he gave me kind of a helpless stare.  Nobody watches the weather report when April has been hot and dry for decades. 

As a very rich mining town for much of two centuries, SLP has scads of really dazzlingly appointed churches, including a cathedral, and ambiance far more like Italy or Spain than N. America.  Even the feel in restaurants is Mediterranean until you start reading the menus.

Sunday morning brought perhaps the most moving project any of us had ever witnessed.  District 4130 supports annual visits by a hearing clinic.  Six or so teams of hearing specialists with chairs set up in one corner of a court yard, and four rows of chairs were filled with waiting families.  After their hearing aids were installed and tested and adjusted, the people moved through a subsequent series of stations where they received batteries, and instructions how to use, care for, and protect the aids.  By the time I got there Dennis, one our two fluent Spanish speaking team members was operating a station explaining the use and care of the aids along with Bonnie & Jennifer.  Mike, the other fluent one had been working out with the specialists, but soon began doing what Dennis had been doing.  Several of us were so moved we just couldn’t stop crying.  It really was a beautiful scene, seeing kids hear, some for the first time.  We were meant to leave for a visit to a village to the south, but everyone wanted to stay longer at the project, so our hosts kindly delayed our departure a bit.

Over the past five years District 4130 has, in conjunction with an international hearing organization the name of which escapes me, given out roughly 10,000 hearing aids in this district.  We learned later 135 had been fitted with aids that Sunday.

 

 

At the heart of the genius of GSE are the vocational visits.  The program guide posits every team member is to have at least one full day per week to meet on his/her own with host counterparts in his or her profession.  These are difficult to arrange and thus place enormous demands on the hosting district, but the times they get it right become those special opportunities which may change the lives and attitudes of participants forever. 

Our remarkable host Marco Hernandez has been working tirelessly to set up meaningful opportunities for each team member, and yesterday Bonnie & Dennis had windows into how child protection and police work happens here that will likely stay with them always. 

Dennis and Mike went to police HQ, and if I understood Dennis correctly, Monterrey police are connected with every bank surveillance camera in the city as well as all patrol vehicles, so in the case of a robbery cops on the street have the video images within moments of the crime being committed, something that doesn’t happen in Nanaimo.  I expect Dennis will be sharing this with his supervisors upon his return.  Dennis and Mike also got to ride in a police helicopter which was considerably less bruising than the their 4 by 4 driving adventure with Marcos’ good friend later in the day.

Bonnie & I joined Jennifer touring a water treatment equipment plant in the morning, where it seemed she learned the problems and approaches are more similar than different.

Next Jennifer and I joined Bonnie and had a real look at the child protective process along with a remarkable facility.  Our host Alajandro, who directs the program, spelled out the process, the problems, the successes, and the potential with what seemed exquisite understanding and detail.  He is trying to convince the system to pay foster families (which is not done now here) and he and Bonnie shared a lot of similar processes and anomalies.  In both places mothers tell “the system” if the money available to the state for protection was available to them, they wouldn’t need to neglect the child to earn a living etc. 

The schedule said “noche libre.”  Our “free evening” began at ten, but the day had been extremely well spent.

Wednesday morning the team visited the University Hospital while Jennifer had a public transportation morning with a bus company, then we all met at the metro headquarters.  “Metrorey” earns 89% of its operating costs from fares and runs what appears to be a very efficient system in moving 250K customers, and hasn’t raised the 45¢ fare in four years.  It is a remarkably efficient operation and appears extremely user friendly.

After lunch (which ended around 4) we visited the retired steel plant which has been rehabbed into a very spiffy museum and park.  The plant is the symbol of the city, and if I understood the Spanish correctly it was local steel that made Monterrey the industrial center it has become, even if these days most of the manufacturing seems to be happening in non-polluting, small plants the size of a Costco outlet or less. 

Tomorrow after Mike interviews for a job here (he loves the place and would like to explore the work possibilities) we are on our way to San Luis Potosi, said to an old, beautiful city. 

Bonnie, Dennis, Jennifer, and I connected smoothly in front of Continental Air at SEATAC at 9 a.m. Sunday where I received the last of my uniform components, four polo shirts.  With the plan of blue on even days and white on odd days, I found a phone booth and did my Clark Kent routine so I matched the group.

Check-in went fine, with the agent a bit surprised four people could have two bags each that all weighed within two pounds of the 50 lb. limit.  One was 52.5, and he said we needed to take something out of it, so we switched two lbs. of brochures to a bag which had already been checked in, and we were good.  Continental even produced a warm chicken sandwich for lunch gratis… a rarity in this era of discount domestic flying. Connecting at Houston was likewise trouble free.

We were met at Monterrey airport by Marco Hernandez, GSE coordinator for district 4130, and Antonio, a sharp young (40) gent who will be part of the GSE team coming to our district next month, and Mike, our fourth team member who took advantage of the ticket this far to travel on ahead of us and do volunteer work in Honduras and see a bit more of southern MX & Central America.  

Antonio took the luggage and went one direction and we were whisked away to a welcome dinner at one of the restaurants owned by 4130 District Governor Jorge Garza.  After terrific conversation and a warm official greeting, we were treated to a buffet the best shorthand description I can think of would be, “it would make a casino proud.”  Too many choices, and all of them good…  

If you’ve never been to Monterrey, forget every notion you ever had about the place.  It may be an “industrial” city, but none of the images one normally associates with that term.  It feels like we’ve been all around the city and I’ve yet to note a smokestack, an obvious factory, or a sprawling rail yard 

Monterrey is beautiful, modern, huge, and traffic flows efficiently and gracefully, once you allow for the difference in driving style between the rest of N. America and MX.  Lane discipline may have its place where we live, but the fact that most drivers are changing lanes most of the time here means when the road narrows from three lanes to two, or four lanes to three everybody just merges and keeps right on tail-gating.  At this volume of traffic in the PNW cars would be stacked up to the edge of the city. In this bustling place of 4 million citizens and over 1 million cars, we’ve already traveled probably two hundred miles in the 48 hours we’ve been here going to meetings and seeing the many things they want us to show us, and not once have we stood still in traffic more than a minute or two, nor have we had to wait more than one traffic-light cycle.  And, unlike my memory of previous visits elsewhere in MX, cars here are new, clean, considerably more upmarket, and free of dents or primer spots.  We were told Monterrey is the richest city in MX.  I’m guessing it may be among the richest in North America. 

The Phoenix area is the closest quick comparison I can make to the physical lay-out.  Large flat areas punctuated by sharp spines of mountains, and wall-to-wall “urbia” between.  I was saying how much one ridge-line resembled Camel Back and was told its name is actually Saddle Mountain. 

Despite the obvious wealth hereabouts, our Rotary hosts could not be more down to earth nor more welcoming.  Our first Rotary meeting at CR Allende was last night at a quite new club 70 km. south of the city in an austere stone and tile room at Club Recreativo with mismatched tables set in a row and mostly white plastic patio chairs.  The dress code could have been jeans and short sleeve casual.  At least four of the 15 members were in the orange trade as farmers or in packing.  The three men in our team were each handed a tall, light scotch and mineral water (a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black served a round for the twenty+ men in the room) in a full 16-oz Styrofoam cup.  Bonnie & Jennifer were given a choice of beverages. 

We were a last minute edition to the program so we were asked to present our power point (one by one, who we are, what we do, family, etc) in 15 minutes, so we all adlibbed a bit, which went fine for Mike and Dennis since they speak Spanish well.  We other three half read, half condensed our spiel and it seemed well received.  Dinner was simple and delicious (our second steak of the day) on rectangular Styrofoam plates, served by a Rotarian from a kitchen in back.  He did drinks then the meal and never stopped working the entire time.  The welcome we felt, and the simple dignity of this meeting was remarkable.    

Less than 10 hours later at 0730 the appointments at CR Contry Guadalupe were equally impressive at the other end of the scale part way up one of the ridges in an imposing glass and polished marble edifice.  View of the city; cloth napkins the size of hand towels; separate cutlery for each course; slices of five different ripe, perfect fruits on each plate as we sat down.  Many of the Rotarians in dark suits on their way to work in very likely well appointed circumstances.  The warmth and the welcome and the dignity was the same, and with a much higher percentage of English speakers, I read my scthick in Spanish, but adlibbed in English a bit and felt understood in both. 

The rest of today was spent being guided through Monterrey Museum of Mexican History, Museum of NE MX History, and a lovely lunch with authentic Mexican dishes at yet another museum by two women from CR Cumbres.  We were back by four and were “free” until eight when we went to a meeting of the Cumbres Club, one of three all women clubs in Monterrey.  There are no “integrated” clubs here.  In other parts of the district there are a few. 

We were told that in ’89 when women were allowed to become Rotarians none of the clubs in Monterrey wanted to allow them, so the district governor being a progressive person encouraged women to form their own clubs. 

Again a remarkable meeting and a remarkable group of people.  The first female surgeon in Mexico, professors, business women, all persons of accomplishment, and all gracious and welcoming.  We had been shoe-horned in and they already had another speaker planned so we did our dog and pony show at the beginning while people ate, then ate while the real program unfolded; really slow starting and probably half an hour longer than the women would have liked (and certainly longer than those of us for whom the Spanish was impossible would have liked) , but in the end a very interesting program nonetheless on the subject of sustainable agriculure.  Once the speaker got to the PowerPoint so I could almost track what he was talking about, it was quite fascinating, and we were out of there by 11. 

Easy day tomorrow.  Police voc day for Dennis & water treatment plant for Jennifer.  The rest of us will go to one or the other, then have an informal lunch with dist. Governor Garza followed by a voc visit for Bonnie at a social services organization and a 4-wheeler ride somewhere in the hills for the others. 

During our free afternoon today while Mike & Jennifer updated the Power Point and Dennis napped, Bonnie and I walked out to see the area around the hotel, and at the Teatro de la Ciudad (city theater) there is an outdoor amphitheater and there we heard music.  As we approached there was a group of probably 20 young people all decked out and twirling and swirling and tapping heels in traditional dances.  The girls wore bright colored full skirts and sparkles on their eyelashes and the guys were in traditional garb as well.  This was followed by two more excellent groups.  The tile floor really popped as the heels clicked down.   Nice crowd of onlookers clapping to the music and enjoying the spectacle.  I’ve traveled quite a bit and it is rare in my experience to happen upon people doing traditional dancing for local audiences.  It was terrific to see local citizen really into their traditional cultural stuff.  Normally when I’ve seen such performances it is in the lobby of a major hotel for the turistas.  We learned later at the Rotary meeting traditional dancing is a required course in schools…  Now that’s back to basics.  I wonder how this place produces far more engineers per capita than we do.  It probably is somehow related to how much of the family’s “job” needs to be done by schools in our culture these days  

Viva la Rotary y GSE.  Or probably that’s Vivos los Rotary y GSE, and of course it becomes biba or bibos… when spoken.  

Way past my bed time, but I don’t need to be down to breakfast until 8:30 tomorrow.  Dennis & Mike need to be breakfasted and ready by 8.  I wonder how one says c’est la vie en Español?

 

In 40 hours team Mexico will be assembling in front of Continental Airlines at SEATAC airport for check-in for Monterrey, MX on what will be the adventure of a lifetime, even for the seasoned travelers among us.For first time GSE people, Group Study Exchange is a Rotary program whereby teams young professionals (four 25-40 non-Rotarians) and one team leader, with a Rotary spend a month in a Rotary district in another country.  This year our district is exchanging with NE Mexico & SE Norway.  We are meant to learn about their lives and institutions, and how the professions of the team members are practiced in the host country, and stay in the homes of Rotarians.  For me personally the prospect of staying in Mexican homes is the most exciting prospect of the event. Our district is half on Vancouver Island, Canada, & half in the very Western part of WA. Our team has four Canadians and me.  Jennifer is an operations manager in Comox Valley Regional District; Dennis is an RCMP Mountie, Mike is a tour guide; and Bonnie is a family group conference coordinator for Nanaimo Family Resource Programs.  We have had a wonderful response from the Rotarian coordinator of our activities in MX, so it looks as if we’ll see a lot, and learn a lot, and make many new friends.Watch this space…     

It is only 7 days away until the GSE team from district 5020 heads to Mexico.