I am leaving today to visit my sister and her husband in Canada for Christmas. It should be an epic journey, First overnight n the bus to Mexico City. Then 2/1-2 days with my friends there. Then, on to Montreal by plane. Then I will be staying overnight in Montreal. Then on to Ottawa by bus. Then by car to Pembroke.
My sister tells me that she has been cooking non-stop for weeks. This puts a heavy weight of responsibility on me.Pun intended. Unless she is inviting a lot of other people. It will be cold. I am looking forward to all of it.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Visit to the Psychologist
The visit today went well. I was able to tell her that psychologically speaking, I am now functioning on three of four cylinders. There is growing doubt whether the other cylinder will ever kick in. She says that probably two more visits will see me right. She has been a tremendous help to me, and I really appreciate it.
Onward and upward as they say.
Onward and upward as they say.
Monday, December 14, 2009
The dog ate my homework
This is the excuse I am giving to my better, more productive self for not journalizing here for what, 22 days?
The truth is, I feel somewhat better. It is impossible, also, not to feel a certain sense of cognitive dissonance about posting my private thoughts in this most public of places. But today, I shall pick up the gauntlet again, secure in the knowledge that I remain unread by anyone but me.
The journey to my sister's place in Canada begins in just four days. First to Mexico city by bus, and then by plane to Montreal, train to Ottawa, and car to Pembroke. Trains, planes and automobiles. Hey, didn't someone make a movie about that?
The itinerary includes stopping over with friends in Mexico City for 2-1/2 days. I have mixed feelings about this. I have a relationship that I can only describe as cowering fear with Mexico City. The hugeness! The traffic! The crime! The brutal indifference to individual human life that can only be found in places with such an incredible magnitude of people! 55 million people in greater Mexico City! I can't even get my mind around that figure.
Every evening my sister tells me what she has cooked for that day in preparation for my visit. I can definitely be accused of gluttony, but the weight of responsibility is beginning to sound like too much even for me. Baked goods. Meat pies. Turkey. Roast something or other. God knows what else. It shall be an orgy of eating, followed by an orgy of self-reproach. I am starting to really look forward to it.
The truth is, I feel somewhat better. It is impossible, also, not to feel a certain sense of cognitive dissonance about posting my private thoughts in this most public of places. But today, I shall pick up the gauntlet again, secure in the knowledge that I remain unread by anyone but me.
The journey to my sister's place in Canada begins in just four days. First to Mexico city by bus, and then by plane to Montreal, train to Ottawa, and car to Pembroke. Trains, planes and automobiles. Hey, didn't someone make a movie about that?
The itinerary includes stopping over with friends in Mexico City for 2-1/2 days. I have mixed feelings about this. I have a relationship that I can only describe as cowering fear with Mexico City. The hugeness! The traffic! The crime! The brutal indifference to individual human life that can only be found in places with such an incredible magnitude of people! 55 million people in greater Mexico City! I can't even get my mind around that figure.
Every evening my sister tells me what she has cooked for that day in preparation for my visit. I can definitely be accused of gluttony, but the weight of responsibility is beginning to sound like too much even for me. Baked goods. Meat pies. Turkey. Roast something or other. God knows what else. It shall be an orgy of eating, followed by an orgy of self-reproach. I am starting to really look forward to it.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Visit to Mazatlan
I went to Mazatlan on Saterday to visit my friends. I took the bus. Because of my new handy-dandy Mexican senior's discount card, the bus fare for me is half price. The tolls on the highway alone between here and Mazatlan amount to over twice as much. Add in the cost of gas for my car and the savings are phenomenal, even though I drive a Smart diesel.
I was somewhat depressed and feeling very lonely when I got on the bus, but kind of happy over being a savvy traveler. The buses in Mexico are very nice. They are mostly quite modern, and clean and comfortable.
However, as if to prove that there is no such thing as even an almost-free lunch, the inescapable movie began to play. I did not bring headphones or music, or even a book with me, so I was more or less forced to watch it, as it is on several drop-down screens throughout the bus, and a larger one at the front, where I was seated. This movie was in English, with Spanish subtitles.
It was a kind oof mockumentary I suppose, consisting of a first person account by John Lennnon's murderer of his activities in New York, up to and including the murder. Just what I need, I thought, the highlights of the life of a deranged, lonely loser, exactly when I was feeling just like one myself. My mood was considerably soured by the time I got to Mazatlan. It soured even more when I realized I had forgotten all the phone numbers of my friends in my apartment in Tepic. And of course I didn't know their street addresses either.
I decided to buy a phone card, call my friends' father on the Baja, and get the phone numbers from him. He wasn't home. In a final act of desperation, I took a cab to another friend's house, who is a close relative of the friend I was to visit. As luck would have it, he pulled up just as I got out of the cab.
So we had a nice reunion, they fed me a couple of nice meals, and we made plans for Carnaval in Mazatlan. I came home on Sunday night, in time to call my sister and have a nice long chat.
In spite of all the minor mishaps, it was good to get away.
I was somewhat depressed and feeling very lonely when I got on the bus, but kind of happy over being a savvy traveler. The buses in Mexico are very nice. They are mostly quite modern, and clean and comfortable.
However, as if to prove that there is no such thing as even an almost-free lunch, the inescapable movie began to play. I did not bring headphones or music, or even a book with me, so I was more or less forced to watch it, as it is on several drop-down screens throughout the bus, and a larger one at the front, where I was seated. This movie was in English, with Spanish subtitles.
It was a kind oof mockumentary I suppose, consisting of a first person account by John Lennnon's murderer of his activities in New York, up to and including the murder. Just what I need, I thought, the highlights of the life of a deranged, lonely loser, exactly when I was feeling just like one myself. My mood was considerably soured by the time I got to Mazatlan. It soured even more when I realized I had forgotten all the phone numbers of my friends in my apartment in Tepic. And of course I didn't know their street addresses either.
I decided to buy a phone card, call my friends' father on the Baja, and get the phone numbers from him. He wasn't home. In a final act of desperation, I took a cab to another friend's house, who is a close relative of the friend I was to visit. As luck would have it, he pulled up just as I got out of the cab.
So we had a nice reunion, they fed me a couple of nice meals, and we made plans for Carnaval in Mazatlan. I came home on Sunday night, in time to call my sister and have a nice long chat.
In spite of all the minor mishaps, it was good to get away.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Independence Day Parade
Yesterday was the Independence Day Parade downtown. I went there to take photographs of my Zumba class, which will are displayed above. One of the photos is of the English class which I have begun to assist with.Aside from that, it was quite the longest parade I have ever seen. I watched about 1-1/2 hours of it and then could take no more.
It was hot, too downtown. And I broke two spokes on my bicycle coming back, because I was tired and used the damn throttle. Just too much torque on those little spokes I guess, asking them to support my weight while the tiny motor struggled to heave my bulk along. So I would have to give the day mixed reviews. It was nice to be with happy enthusiastic people though.
The class was happy to see me, and I only got out of participating in the parade myself by saying that I wanted to take some action photos of them marching. One does not go from being an almost complete recluse to rabid exhibitionist overnight.
Today I shall go to Mazatlan, to visit friends. I think I will take the bus. The tolls on the Autopista are prohibitive. I shall miss the car, but taxis are cheap enough.
At the parade, it was great to see so many happy people. The state police marched as well. I felt kind of sorry for all the participants, because after 1-1/2 hours of marching in the sun, they seemed really hot, tired and dehydrated.
Now I shall have to order more spokes from Canada, to repair my bicycle. I shall order a complete set, with some extra.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Zumba Today
Today I went for my second class of Zumba. I participated somewhat reluctantly in a dress rehearsal for tomorrow's parade downtown for Independence day. I confidently predict that no prizes shall be won by my group. And I say this with the full authority of having the distinction of being the worst one in the lot.
This sorry debacle occurred in the parking lot of the Soriana store which is adjacent to the senior's centre. We shuffled about ineffectually for about a half an hour. I was forced to give a jeering taxi driver a one finger salute for his insolence.
I was strongarmed after the practice to accept an INAPAM (Federal Institute For Retired People) T-shirt and to participate in the parade. I declined a graciously as I could, saying that I don't think that Mexico is quite ready to see me dancing in the streets. I also said that I had designated myself to be the official photographer for this event, and I would get the best photos printed for display on the bulletin board. This seemed to mollify them somewhat. Fortunately they do not yet know how terrible a photographer I am.
All in all though, it is always worthwhile to get some exercise.
While I was sitting on a shady bench at the centre, recuperating as it were from the sight of myself shambling about, sweating, overweight and old, among this group of scarf-waving Mexican ladies of similar vintage to myself, I was approached by my psychologist.
She asked me if I would like to assist at an English class being held under a large shady tree there a little later in the day. I agreed, saying only that I had to shower, change my clothes and have breakfast.
Some time later I appeared under the designated tree, to find a white haired gentleman of extremely advanced age attempting to teach a mixed class of seniors, who were as unruly as private school pupils on the last day of the term.
He greeted me brusquely after I had explained my presence there, and implied that I had interrupted his class. I offered to leave at that point, but he recovered himself and insisted that I stay. The class was attempting to sing the Beatle's song "Yesterday" first in Spanish, then in English.
Eventually, I was asked by the instructor if I wished to join in. I told him that I couldn't sing, but that I would read the lyrics aloud so that his students could hear the words pronounced properly. The instructor is Mexican, and although he speaks English well, does so with quite a pronounced accent.
I prefaced my reading with a self-serving little speech about how lucky they were to have me there since I am Canadian, and speak English properly, unlike the Americans. I don't normally brag like that, but in this case, I think it's true. Following this bit of rather timid bragadoccio, I read the lyrics aloud line by line, and had the class repeat each line after me so I could hear their pronunciation. I then corrected them on a couple of points of pronunciation, and had them sing it again A Capella. I congratulated them on their improvement. The class broke up shortly after that, and I receved an invitation to join them at a birthday party for one of the class, but I declined, citing household duties.
Now I must learn how to make my blog entries stop sounding like reports being written by an exceptionally dull police constable, and I shall be well on my way to blogger fame and fortune.
This sorry debacle occurred in the parking lot of the Soriana store which is adjacent to the senior's centre. We shuffled about ineffectually for about a half an hour. I was forced to give a jeering taxi driver a one finger salute for his insolence.
I was strongarmed after the practice to accept an INAPAM (Federal Institute For Retired People) T-shirt and to participate in the parade. I declined a graciously as I could, saying that I don't think that Mexico is quite ready to see me dancing in the streets. I also said that I had designated myself to be the official photographer for this event, and I would get the best photos printed for display on the bulletin board. This seemed to mollify them somewhat. Fortunately they do not yet know how terrible a photographer I am.
All in all though, it is always worthwhile to get some exercise.
While I was sitting on a shady bench at the centre, recuperating as it were from the sight of myself shambling about, sweating, overweight and old, among this group of scarf-waving Mexican ladies of similar vintage to myself, I was approached by my psychologist.
She asked me if I would like to assist at an English class being held under a large shady tree there a little later in the day. I agreed, saying only that I had to shower, change my clothes and have breakfast.
Some time later I appeared under the designated tree, to find a white haired gentleman of extremely advanced age attempting to teach a mixed class of seniors, who were as unruly as private school pupils on the last day of the term.
He greeted me brusquely after I had explained my presence there, and implied that I had interrupted his class. I offered to leave at that point, but he recovered himself and insisted that I stay. The class was attempting to sing the Beatle's song "Yesterday" first in Spanish, then in English.
Eventually, I was asked by the instructor if I wished to join in. I told him that I couldn't sing, but that I would read the lyrics aloud so that his students could hear the words pronounced properly. The instructor is Mexican, and although he speaks English well, does so with quite a pronounced accent.
I prefaced my reading with a self-serving little speech about how lucky they were to have me there since I am Canadian, and speak English properly, unlike the Americans. I don't normally brag like that, but in this case, I think it's true. Following this bit of rather timid bragadoccio, I read the lyrics aloud line by line, and had the class repeat each line after me so I could hear their pronunciation. I then corrected them on a couple of points of pronunciation, and had them sing it again A Capella. I congratulated them on their improvement. The class broke up shortly after that, and I receved an invitation to join them at a birthday party for one of the class, but I declined, citing household duties.
Now I must learn how to make my blog entries stop sounding like reports being written by an exceptionally dull police constable, and I shall be well on my way to blogger fame and fortune.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Zumba
I went today for my first hour of exercise at the senior's centre here in Tepic.
This was done on the advice of my psychologist to
a) improve my fitness level and distract me from my grief
b) get me out among people, to widen my range of acquaintances here. From 0 to something I guess.
I bicycled there on my new airless tires, which I am gradually getting used to as in, they don't feel so strange anymore. The 8 o'clock class did not begin until 8:15.
The instructor was a nice young woman who had little difficulty in quickly welcoming me, although I must have seemed rather exotic to her, this enormous Canadian, towering over the rest of her class.
The class consisted of about 15 ladies also about my age, and 3 men.
We did some rather uncomplicated aerobic/dance stuff for about 3/4 of an hour, and then a quick cooldown.
I have to say that overall it was time well spent. I felt better, more alert and less tired afterward. I shall do it again tomorrow.
Why it is called Zumba id a complete mystery to me.
This was done on the advice of my psychologist to
a) improve my fitness level and distract me from my grief
b) get me out among people, to widen my range of acquaintances here. From 0 to something I guess.
I bicycled there on my new airless tires, which I am gradually getting used to as in, they don't feel so strange anymore. The 8 o'clock class did not begin until 8:15.
The instructor was a nice young woman who had little difficulty in quickly welcoming me, although I must have seemed rather exotic to her, this enormous Canadian, towering over the rest of her class.
The class consisted of about 15 ladies also about my age, and 3 men.
We did some rather uncomplicated aerobic/dance stuff for about 3/4 of an hour, and then a quick cooldown.
I have to say that overall it was time well spent. I felt better, more alert and less tired afterward. I shall do it again tomorrow.
Why it is called Zumba id a complete mystery to me.
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