Posts Tagged Under Mexico
Verna and Steven Gone Wild, Part One
Verna and I spent a week in 2008 in Cabo San Lucas, for our first vacation without kids in 11 years. We were last in Mexico for our honeymoon in 1991. We stayed then in Mazatlan at the time-share condo of Verna’s brother, Jim, and his wife, Liz. We transferred their week this time to stay in Cabo.
We spent seven glorious, sun-drenched days lounging by the pool, walking miles and miles around the marina, drinking tequila, giggling in the surf of the Sea of Cortez, dining out for each meal, and consuming more tequila.
While Verna sat in the lobby of our resort, Sol Mar Beach Club, Saturday evening, writing a postcard to a friend, I joined four women in line for dinner, a Mexican fiesta all-you-can-eat buffet. We shared vital biographical information and I learned they were sisters from Lake Charles, LA, who’d left their children and husbands behind for five days of sibling bonding, freedom, and revelry. They invited us to sit with them at dinner.
As the dinner progressed and the floor show at the fiesta droned on, they asked us to join them for the evening. They were headed to Cabo Wabo’s, a famed bar owned by rocker Sammy Hagar, in the heart of Cabo’s downtown.
“No, that’s OK. I don’t think we’re up for a late night,” said Verna.
I looked over at her, then whispered, “C’mon, let’s live it up.”
Verna somewhat reluctantly agreed, so we and the sisters–Michelle, Melissa, Colleen, and Denise– suggested we go next to the Giggling Marlin, where they’d been the night before, to see the exciting floor show. Continue… »
By StevenFMother Time is NOT the Same as My Own Time
We sleep and wake at odd times: our tiredness, we discover, has many layers.
-Tony Cohan, On Mexican Time.
Lately I have been feeling like every day is at least two days long. And in that space of time, I am not quite sure what happens. I don’t even know how it happens. It’s as though time is actually dissolving before my grasping hands. I wish I could momentarily step out of the earth’s gravitational pull and somehow slip through the gap of a day: An entire 24 hours devoted to my renewal and to the tying up of loose ends. Unfortunately, life does not give time outs, and I am deep in the midst of a space I like to call “Mother Time.” Continue… »
By Dawn YunWhen Will People See?
Recently, I was at Home Depot when a white man came up to me in the aisle and jerked his chin in the direction of my shopping cart where my two children, ages 7 and 4, sat chomping on hot pretzels.
“Where are they from?” the man asked. “Mexico?”
“Guatemala,” I said uncertain where the conversation was headed.
“Well,” said the man, folding his arms. “Let’s hope they bring something good to this country, instead of just taking everything.”
When I told this story to a friend in my neighborhood, another adoptive mom with a daughter from Guatemala in addition to two blonde-haired biological kids, she nodded.
“I was at Walgreen’s with the girls, and Maria wandered down the aisle with a candy bar in her hand. A man came up to her and said ‘You know you have to pay for that, missy.’” My friend shook her head. “Mind you, Maria’s two blonde-haired sisters were walking around with candy bars in their hands, too, but he didn’t say a word to them. Only to Maria.”
By Jessica O'Dwyer
