Ah Mexiquito, how you challenge and uplift me. So much laughter, screaming, dusty teared faces. Every time I leave, I am exhausted, covered in dirt and dried weeds, orange juice, lollipop drool, boogers, and occasionally, pee. Believe it or not, even though I feel physically gross, my over all state of being is that of exhilaration. Today I helped a little one to ride a bike without training wheels. He'd manage to go a few feet on his own, crash, get up and turn around with an enormous smile and start clapping. Another beautiful moment was when I asked the young guy who had learned to ride a bike about two weeks ago, to come over and aid us. I said, "you will be a great teacher because you just learned." The exchange just about cracked my heart open. And it worked, it really worked. He was able to show his compañero, how to position his foot on the pedal, and how to launch himself forward. To learn to ride a bike, to fly! What an honor to be part of this incredible rite of passage. Today I also met the newest arrival to the orphanage. He's under two years old and a sweetheart. I have no idea what his circumstances are, it's not my business to be sure. As I saw Madre Lucy walking around with him, holding his hand, swinging him and the other two year old dreamboat who lives there, on the swings, I felt that at least there would be love and care here. The madres are some of the most incredible humans I have ever been around. A mountain of patience and kindness. Happy flying, bike riding, reading, walking, and eating to all!

Two days of reading and writing and popcorn and cleaning and socializing with new friends and more popcorn. Wednesday was Los Ricos. I only participated in two of the teaching English sessions, and I was still welcomed as if I'd been around the whole time. Ted and I worked with the kindergarten and first grade again. It was a little tricky this time as it was the final day of classes before vacation and the last day of English classes until next year. The kids had all prepared a dance and there were awards and certificates to be handed out. About halfway through the ceremony, Ted and I (who were sort of hiding in the back) heard our names being called out over a microphone. We both sort of stumbled in shock to the front and were presented with pictures from the first grade class of themselves. Uhhhhhh, there are moments when one's head and heart literally feels as though they will burst open, releasing a confetti of happiness and unexplainable awe. I'm having a plethora of these moments here in Mexico. We were later treated to a lunch of chicken, mole(dammmnnnn!), rice, beans, blue corn tortillas, loads of other savory meat dishes I don't know the names of, and then... the cakes! We had three massive cakes that a few of the volunteers had pitched in to purchase. The line was endless. The kids were in a frenzy and I decided that despite my addiction to sweets, the addiction that would make me push them all aside so I could grab a mound of chocolate icing (yes, it's pretty bad), I would forget about having cake today. Instead I spoke with an incredibly kind man who has managed to travel between Mexico, Vietnam and Thailand teaching English and house sitting for the last twelve years. Rich stories that I carry with me.

Working on the final presentation. Wow. It's a lot of information and a lot of work but I think it will be pretty okay once it's sent off! If any of you wonderful friends, family, and supporters are interested in the final product, please let me know and I can send you a link to the power point. After working for a solid 4 hours this morning, I needed to wrench myself away from the computer screen and take a little walk around. Some observations - "Men at Work" blasting from a neighbors window...two dogs trying to procreate in an alley while the propane truck drove by blasting it's theme song...three visually impaired people leading one another in a line down the street until they bumped into a tamale stand...I tripped because I was watching them...more than 100 people gathered inside and outside one of the churches at 11am on a Tuesday...a teeny tiny little girl carrying a teenier puppy that she could barely hold...gorditas, peanuts, soy nuts, jicama, elote, tamales, papaya, watermelon, piña, coconut, and churros on every corner on almost every street...a woman using a machete to peel napolitas...a man carrying a bundle of roses that was bigger than him...the smell of roasted chicken, hot concrete, and fermented juice. Yes!

It rained last night! For most of our Portland friends, I can only imagine what they would think about this news. It was a treat for us though. It's very, very dusty and dry here. This means we have the glory (and it is) of the sun every day as well as the challenge of breathing in clouds of dirt. So today, the earth was just a little more damp and we walked to Mexiquito breathing in clear air. By the time we arrived most of the boys were already off and away riding their bike of choice. Ted kept busy with the other volunteers fixing flat tires and bike chains and lowering or raising bicycle seats. I spent most of my time talking to two little girls that were hanging out while their fathers were doing some construction. They were four and five and wanted to make it clear that they were cousins and not sisters. They also wanted to know how old I was, if Ted and I were married, and what I would name a child if I were to have one. I laughed at their small inquisition and asked them to tell me their favorite names so that I would have some inspiration. I heard "Sofia" "Maribel" "Estephanie" "Ana Marie" and "David" for a boy. Then they decided that they each really needed to ride a bike so I asked the head coordinator of the bike program if that would be possible given they weren't actually residents of the orphanage and they were given the go ahead. It was pretty dang sweet. Soccer was a little different this week. Mike, the guy from the states that initiated the program, left last week to go back and take care of visa stuff. All of the boys kept asking where the other "maestro" was and we were brutally reminded of how important consistency is in the lives of these kids. We have been told that many of the kids have parents that are alive but can't afford to keep them. Again, I have no concept of how this would feel and can only imagine the issues of trust each one of these kids might have with adults in their lives. The beautiful mothers of Mexiquito are there for them every day, but there are only five of them and they have a lot of work. There are volunteers that come, but some for just small amounts of time. I felt saddened today at what my own limitations are and will be. I recognized the fragility in the boys today. Many of them cycle through a bevy of emotions in 30 minutes time and it's difficult to identify how to work with each child according to their needs. There are language and cultural differences as well. One little guy was really struggling today, bursting into fits of anger and lashing out at any adult or child around him. At first I felt defensive, for myself and the others. Then I remembered that I have no clue as to what this young being has experienced. What he needs is care and empathy. I can work to give him that, even if it is for a short amount of time. Before we all parted ways today I asked him if he wanted a hug and he agreed, leapt into my arms (he's really heavy) and gave me a kiss. He had a hard time letting go and so did I.

And the day has finally arrived. It was my last "official" day as an intern at CASA. There is a possibility that I will help out here and there with events and fundraising while I live in San Miguel but I don't technically have to show up for work on Monday morning. Well, por supuesto, this last week has been a mini roller coaster ride of emotions. Although I felt a little sad, it did seem as though today was the right day to make an exit. The transition felt smooth and rounded. Last night Ted made mini chocolate and candied orange peel scones for everyone and they were enjoyed by all. My office compañeras and I went out to the luncheria down the street (not as a good-bye event, it just happened) where I purchased a plain cheese quesadilla and sweet coffee (for about $1.50). I enjoyed my first office "gossip" session in Spanish. It was pretty cool. Although I feel a little disheartened at times that my Spanish is not where I'd like it to be, I have also noticed the change. It's a slow progress but it's happening. The conversations flow just a bit more freely. The direct and indirect object pronouns are starting to make their ways into a sentence (at times correctly, at times... meh). When someone asks me a question I don't completely freeze up. What I feel at this point, is the joy of possibility. It is possible for me to be able to work and learn this beautiful language. The incredibly profound beauty that comes from conversing and interacting with people in another language, for me, is second to none. With fatigue, thrill, pain, and curiosity, if we let ourselves give way to the learning process, a transformation occurs. I have experienced just the beginning and I'm in! I'm in for the long haul. Thank you oh thank you for this time. Una buen noche!

For the last 6 weeks or so Ted has been going to Los Ricos with about 35 other folks from the states and Canada to teach English to the kids there. I was finally able to join them today. Los Ricos is a very small and very rural community about 30 minutes west of San Miguel. We began our teaching day with the kindergarten group. What can I say but adorable! Seven wee niñas were huddled around one corner of a big table that was very low to the ground. As we started to say our "hello-what-is-you-name?-my-name-is-Leila's" two little niños emerged from underneath the table to join us. What followed was a wonderful hour of singing head-shoulders-knees-and-toes, shouting out animal names as large flashcards were shown, practicing our colors, and drawing. There were many wide-eyes, smiles, boogers in noses, and hugs. We moved on from the littlest ones to first grade, and they were the wild ones! Just six kids but so much unfocused energy! We were working on numbers - 11 through 15 - which are very difficult to understand! One through ten they all get pretty quickly, I am told, but the teens are really challenging. Actually, they are challenging from english to spanish as well. We ended up splitting them up, Tara, a tough older Canadian volunteer took a girl who didn't have her notebooks and was wandering a bit, Ted took a little boy who could not sit still! I took the four other girls, and we all sat around on the ground and colored in worksheets and worked on colors, numbers, and fruits. Again, more smiles, more affection, more fun! How open they were after just meeting this weird gringa they had never seen before! The last group we worked with was the 11th graders. I was split up from Ted and handed 3 boys to work with. What a change! While they did seem to pay special attention to me and not really focus on Bob, the older man whom I was teaching with, the hugs were traded in for shyness, nervous energy, and lots of laughter. Yet, they had a stronger command of the language and it was endearing how much they wanted to understand. I admit to feeling a bit conflicted about teaching english to native spanish speakers. It is so difficult in that I am here to learn how to communicate in spanish, how to talk about myself and my life and ask questions of people about who they are and what their lives are like. I do recognize that it is a pretty amazing thing that this project exists in this village. The mothers of the community started the project by asking for english teachers to come to the community. The way they repay the efforts of the tutors is by making lunch, which we all share. Oh my oh my! Pots of all sorts sat on a table in the middle of our small room, and styrofoam cups of horchata lined one of the window sills as we all lined up to get some of the most lovely, rica, and vegetarian (I assume!) food I have had here! It was tasty, colorful, wonderful, and such a generous gesture by the families of this village. I feel so fortunate to have been allowed into there midst, allowed to meet and engage their precious kids, and invited to sit at their tables and be well fed. I never forget that I am a stranger here, and in so many moments during so many days it hurts to feel that. But during today I felt like a guest, welcomed, and so grateful.

After a morning learning about the male reproductive organs in Spanish and the myths surrounding these organs, I felt I wanted to go back to school for a third B.A. in anatomy or public health. This time, perhaps a university in Latin America! First things first, and that is that this is "technically" my last week as an intern at CASA and it is also my last week (not counting a final presentation) as a student of Spanish at Portland State. Ideally, if all goes as planned and forms are processed in good time, I will have a degree in Spanish by the end of the month. I could go into a rant about the value of a B.A. in the U.S. right now, and whether or not it was all worth going into buckets of debt but... what's the point?! For whatever reason or for the many reasons I am here now, it is due to all the little choices and steps I took in order to write this current entry. I'd like to think I had the courage and where-with-all to get myself to Latin America without the support of a school program. Yes, I'd like to think that, but truly, I needed some structure and I needed guidelines. I've reflected since I've been here on the many ways in which my education in the classroom did not entirely prepare me for conversations in Spanish. I found that I was more capable of reading in Spanish than speaking and for awhile, I was disappointed that my university education didn't offer classes in advanced conversation. I felt as though I needed to relearn the language people actually spoke here and not the language used in academic settings. Now, although of course I'd love to not owe money to the U.S. government for something I believe should be FREE, I am at peace with my decision to study Spanish. I loved most of my professors, most of the subject matter, and most of my classmates. I've had many experiences where had I not had an education in Latin American history, culture, and art, specifically with respect to its authors, I would not have been able to connect in a vibrant and wonderful way with people I have met here in Mexico. One of the first interactions I had when I arrived in Mexico, at the airport in Guadalajara, was exchanging US dollars for MX pesos. The woman who was working at the exchange office handed me a 200 peso note which boasts the face of Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz. I shrieked a little in delight and said "me encanta, me encanta sus poemas!" The woman beamed back at me, and using a small glass scope, showed me that there was a little quote from Sor Juana's poem "Hombres Necios" on the bill. I've had countless moments like this. Moments in which I am so thankful for the choices I've made that have allowed me to participate completely.

Another bizarre and unbelievably fantastic animated video entitled "Era Uma Vez Outra Maria" was shown in the capacitaciones today. This time, the subject was about gender stereotypes. There were no audible words but instead sounds were used to express communication. Indeed, a bevy of strange sounds, some just high and low pitched beeps and clicks and clocks were used to convey facial expressions and actions. What appeared to be the sonic call of whales and dolphins was what the video used in order to express emotions and dialogue from the animated characters. It was a story of a young girl, Maria, who does not want to be pinned down by stereotypes. Though she wanted to play soccer and not with dolls, a malevolent and giant pencil would follow her and erase her actions when she tried to be "different" than the other girls around her. By far the most provocative part in the video proved to be the scene in which her older brother made his way to the family bathroom to masturbate with a porn mag, while their father smiled in approval. The next scene showed the Maria in her bedroom attempting to masturbate, when along comes that mean pencil and erases her hopes of an orgasm and instead draws pictures above her head in an animated bubble of the disapproval and anger of her parents. If I were not so blown away by the time the video was over I might have asked some questions but wow...needed some time to process the whole thing. One of the promotores gave a short lecture after the video describing the importance of communicating effectively and with accurate information to the youth that they will be trying to inform in the community. She emphasized how it was up to the promotores to develop trust and good communication with the youth as, for many of them, they have not been exposed to much of the education and information that is available. "Gender stereotypes are still alive and strong here as she explained, children are still reduced to the colors pink and blue." "What about white, yellow, green, and blue", she said! True enough. I know I should refrain from getting mushy, but, I'm really going to miss these capacitaciones and all the awesome promotores.

Hello! What an incredible two days it has been. Yesterday, I was able to take the day off of work as it was mi cumpleaños. I ventured out for a four hour walk with my true partner to the Charco del Ingenio. The Charco is an 170 acre nature reserve and botanical garden here in San Miguel. It is stunning. Within moments of walking in the reserve Ted and I felt as though we had drifted onto sacred ground. Cactus of rare varieties, some even endangered, thrive with gracious endurance from the sides of the canyon. Agave blossoms take to the air in towers that appear to be massive alien asparagus. Every weekend closest to the full moon, the Charco also hosts a Temazcal. This is a ritual and curative ceremony that uses aromatic herbs and steam and takes place in a sweat-lodge located in the ruins of the Hacienda Las Colonias in the northern part of the garden. Another wonderful fact about the Charco, in 2004 the gardens were proclaimed a Peace Zone by the Dalai Lama, during his visit to Mexico. It is a place of rare beauty and I felt honored to be able to celebrate my day of birth there. Today was Mexiquito. Ted and I were solo for the bike program, a thought that prompted some panic for me as we were walking there this morning. I had looked up as many phrases as possible to explain that today would not be a bicycle maintenance day but rather a riding day only as we didn't have enough human adult power for more than that. "What if all their tires have flats.. what if they fight over the bikes...what if one of them falls off the crazy unstable but awesome homemade ramp they set up each Saturday?!" All this and more. Thankfully, things went pretty smoothly. Actually half of the bikes did indeed have flat tires but they appeared to be slow leaks so we were able to pump them up and send them on their way. By the time the cycling hours came to a close, each kid handed their bike in with out a fuss and we went on to our soccer hours. A bit more of a challenge as we were ALL exhausted, however, the kids are really starting to connect with us and that felt invaluable today. Tonight, we are off to a kickboxing cage fight. Yes. One of the pieces of advice I received from my IE3 directors before I left was, "if your co-workers invite you to events (always be safe of course) go!" So we have been and so we are! More on that tomorrow. Buen noche to all!

Thursdays are fundraising meeting days. I do tend to look on these days with less excitement than my other days at CASA. Meetings are a challenge and I know I've written about these challenges in the past. Lots of opinions and ideas and more opinions. Still, when I looked around the table during our meeting today, I had a strong appreciation for the inter-dependance of things. I was grateful that we were all gathered in Gerardo's beautiful Cafe Muro, sipping mineral water and coffee, determining what our next moves were going to be. There have been disappointments and upsets in this group. For obvious reasons, I can't go into detail about any of it, and more importantly, what matters is that we've managed to keep it together! I have a feeling it often takes groups like this a bit of time to move around and settle and stretch and settle and walk away and come back and settle, until you have people that are working "synergistically" and constructively with one another. I also truly believe that people want to be a part of something they believe in or have a strong connection with. It's just possible that support may come in many different forms. I was recently cataloging some of the press releases CASA has received over the years, and realized how long it has taken this non-profit to succeed. Well, thirty years to be exact. There have also been a lot of huge set-backs and disappointments along the way. They stuck with it. At times, I believe that perseverance is as important as passion. Passion can waiver in the face of adversity. Perseverance takes the hand of passion when it cannot move along on its own. Damn, I have learned a lot about working with people.

Okay, I'm learning some very important lessons in the art of humility. And I'll say, that whenever I do find myself getting a little cocky or too preoccupied with my needs being the most important, I ...am...leveled! Perhaps if my partner was not as incredible as he is, or if there was a lack of ice cream or sun, I'd be less gracious about my shortcomings. After feeling my feathers sufficiently ruffled yesterday (details not important as it happens to us all) I was about to hightail it out of a project that was occurring today. Thank the fill-in-the-blank that I was able to work through the blur of my pride in time to actually participate in today's events. The coordinator's of Colectivo 41 arranged (in about 24 hours) to do a provocative photo campaign with a successful Mexican photographer. Make-up, models, and snacks were all arranged as well. We wanted to document to entire process, so I had a camera as well as the graphic designer from CASA and another volunteer. All of the models (mainly youth from the LGBT community) had their faces painted to appear as if they had just been severely beaten. The message of the campaign will be something to the effect that "The violence stops with you." There was a lot of laughter and general enjoyment whilst everyone was getting bruises and blood painted onto their faces. At quite a few points (and I'm sure I wasn't alone in this) I did take a look around and think, "we can afford to laugh because we feel safe right now" and it hit me really hard that tens of thousands of people have and continue to be victims of horrible acts of violence because they are considered "different." At one point today, one of the coordinators started conducting video interviews with the volunteers. Many told their own personal stories with such honesty and depth... well, no words to convey my own reaction. One women told of an incident in Mexico City, walking down the street with her girlfriend, simply holding hands, and a group of about 30 men started yelling aggressively to them that they were going to "rape them in order to teach them a lesson." Well what can be said? This hatred, is too profound for me to comment on. All I can do is silently create benevolent energy, an energy based in undifferentiated awareness and love. We have to do something.

In our morning trainings today, I was lucky enough to be able to watch one of the most amazing and bizarre informational videos I have ever seen - and I am pretty sure that has ever been made. The topic was quite serious - molestation. The storytelling conceit? Monkey puppets. There was the bad monkey, the one who was inappropriately touching the other monkey. This was met with some laughter by the promotores, but more seriousness than one might expect. At a certain point in the video, the monkeys stop, and break into song. Onto the screen flash animated "genitalia." We sat together listening to - "los genitalias les gusta amor"or, genitals like to be cared for. It went on to instruct us on good washing practice, with a smiling vagina, bow in hair, and a penis with a face singing away. I couldn't help but think of a kid coming home from school, met at the door by mom or dad asking, "so what did you learn in school today?" One thing that I haven't mentioned yet is how great/common the snack/junk food is here. All manner of cookie and crackers, ice cream and candy can be found in even the smallest of aborrates, or tiny convenience store. Most days I just nod at the temptation and then walk on. But today was one of those days that, after work, after being tired, a bunch of goodies just found their way into my bolsa. Oops! Oh well. Its cultural exploration. Although, Ritz crackers are pretty much the same anywhere. In seriousness, there are really quality bakeries here, with a surprising selection of treats - many different cookies and pastries, most of which I can't identify, so I have to take it on faith that they will be good. And, my friends, they always are. Today, a palmier, which is french I suppose, a donut (as good as anything I have gotten before), and a little cute swan shaped things, that as it turns out was filled with custard!!!

Another round of capacitaciones started today. These are the educational trainings that are given to the promotores before they go into the any of the local communities. These next few weeks they (and I) will be learning about the PESSANE program at CASA. To take from the CASA page, "PESSANE was founded in 1992 with the goal of providing essential, age-appropriate, sexual and reproductive health education to teachers, parents, and students through interactive workshops in the Guanajuato state school system. The team provides orientation on sexuality, family planning, self-esteem, depression, substance abuse, and violence. PESSANE runs a popular annual summer program; its unique model aims to coach adolescents from all over the country and turn them into leaders in their own communities and schools." This program is particularly inspiring to me in that one of the main goals is to encourage and foster youth education and leadership. As the coordinator for the program was explaining to the promotores today, it's one thing to talk about family planning with young people (which can provoke taboo subjects such as abortion or sexually transmitted diseases) with an older teacher or parent and quite another thing to talk with a peer counselor. It opens up the possibility for more open discussions and trust. Obviously when I was younger I would have chosen a peer to talk to about sex over any teacher or adult I know! This week we will also learn about PESSANES recycling program and community garden project. A wonderful way to round out my last few weeks here.

Bicycles! Soccer! Mexiquito! We spent five hours at the orphanage today. For the first two, we were with three fantastic people from the states who have set up bike repair classes and a free-for-all bike riding day for the kids. Two evenings a week they have classes in which they teach the kids how to fix flat tires (which occurs about every 3 minutes) repair bike pedals, bike chains, adjust seats, handlebars, and more. It is now the good fortune of Ted and I to be able to join them for the bike riding part of it that is every Saturday. The kids fly ecstatically down to the bike shed after their breakfasts to get started. One of us volunteers takes their name, writes a description of the bike they will ride, and the shape the bike is in. When it's time to return the bike, the child needs to identify if any problems have occurred and then they repair them in the next class. Most of the children have godparents, and it is the godparents of many of the past kids from the orphanage that have provided the bikes over time. One of the volunteers had helped a young boy, the newest addition to the orphanage, ride a bike by himself for the very first time last week. I continued to help him in this venture today. He fell a lot. He got back up every time, pleaded for help with his start off push and then adelante! He started to ride for longer periods of time and he started to take off by himself. So good, his smile went up to the clouds. Next week Ted and I will be leading the bike crew. The volunteers that run the program will be out of town and they have entrusted us with a job I'll be looking forward to all week. Next was soccer, oranges, and conversation in Spanish with a new friend. She is a teacher from Guanajuato and has been coming with Mike, the man that started the soccer program to help with translation and for support. We talk about our favorite authors, traveling, and more. She used to work with a group of Zapatistas. I have developed a girlfriend crush! After coming home from a long day in the sun and a surprisingly cold wind, I feel the fatigue that carries pure happiness in it's threads.

The traditional weekend is here. I'm going to be honest, I'm ready for it! Even if it's just two days, I'm going to try and stay away from the computer and I'm going to try and read twenty pages of a young adult book that's in Spanish. One of today's tasks involved a jaunt through the middle of town, or, El Centro. The sky was filled with clouds this morning. The air was cold, it seemed as though rain was imminent. I felt momentarily whisked back to life in Portland. I started looking for coffee! I was on my way to the post office to deliver letters and lo and behold, there was a fairly large festival going on in front of the grand parroquia. People were dressed in gorgeous costumes, feathered headdresses and covered in a variety of face and body paint. They danced to the strength of a group of drummers. There was incense and charcoal burning. Hundreds of school kids in uniforms taking notes and pictures surrounded the square. I have been told quite a few times that one never knows when there will be a festival or parade here in San Miguel but chances are you will run into one almost daily. Yet another reason for me to feel fortunate for my time here. I actually don't mind being woken up before dawn by fireworks. I prefer it to an alarm clock! How could I have known three months ago, as I was finalizing plans to do this internship, that I would be given the duty of delivering letters to a post office as part of my time here. That this simple task would enable me to witness a dance. I have no idea, nor was I able to find out, what it was that people were celebrating. That's okay - they are!

I have been thinking I should talk a little about the history of the name "Colectivo 41." Perhaps I have touched on it before but I thought I could go into a little more depth. The Colectivo 41 program at CASA derived it's name from a police raid that occurred at a private home in Mexico City, one evening on the 18th of November 1901. According to reports, "El Baile de los cuarenta y uno" or "The dance of the forty one" was attended by a group of men, mostly from the upper class, of whom about 19 were dressed as women. It was rumored that there were actually forty two people that were arrested, but that Ignacio de la Torre, the son-in-law of the infamous dictator Porfirio Diaz, was actually allowed to escape. Even though the raid was illegal, as the attendees had committed no "crime", the forty one participants were all convicted and sent to do hard labor in the Yucatan peninsula. In an article that was released after the raid, the 41 were referred to as "maricones," which is a derogatory term for someone that is gay. This raid had an incredible impact on society that has lasted to this day. According to a writer named Francisco L. Urquizo, whom wrote an essay in 1965 about the "41" taboo: In Mexico, the number 41 has no validity and is offensive... The influence of this tradition is so strong that even officialdom ignores the number 41. No division, regiment, or battalion of the army is given the number 41. From 40 they progress directly to 42. No payroll has a number 41. Municipal records show no houses with the number 41; if this cannot be avoided, 40 bis is used. No hotel or hospital has a room 41. Nobody celebrates their 41st birthday, going straight from 40 to 42. No vehicle is assigned a number plate with 41, and no police officer will accept a badge with that number. Much to my dismay, the determination to eliminate the number 41 from all things personal and official in Mexico is still upheld. I was told by one of the coordinators at CASA that many people in Mexico don't actually know the history of "El baile de los cuarenta y uno" - they just know that the number 41 is associated with being gay and/or a transvestite. Colectivo 41 wanted to pay homage to the ongoing battle for human rights and the freedom to love whom you love, by taking the name associated with the first police raid on a community of LGBT individuals in Mexico. My fortune to be a part of the group in any way still continues to surprise me.

Language proficiency. It's interesting to experience some of the feelings that are introducing themselves with respect to language proficiency. I find myself being oddly jealous of native Spanish speakers. "What fluidity they have, how easily they are able to trill the rrrr's, the jokes, the stories, how quickly they are transmitted!" Everyone is in on the same secret, except me. I know this envy, this train of thought might seem ridiculous and and that would be because...it is ridiculous. Of course I'm not going to be proficient in Spanish, of course I'm not going to be able to carry on an easy flowing conversation in Spanish after being in Mexico for less than two months. There is no secret. OF COURSE! I may know these facts intellectually, but the impatient self wants to understand and express everything RIGHT NOW! At the meetings I sit in on at CASA, I want to understand all of the subtle nuances. My co workers nod in agreement over a topic and I think "were they talking about an event or food with pork skins... was it a car that was hit or a wall...did this happen ten years ago or last week?" Then of course there are the expressions used here that I did not learn in any Spanish class in the states. For example, people here do not refer to buses as "autobûs" but instead, "camiôn." People do not say "como?" for what but rather "mande?" People do not say "por favor" for please but instead it is shortened to "por fa" or a curious version that is "por fis." It has taken me about two months and inquiries to learn these few things. A big part of me feels thrilled that I can now say and understand about six new expressions. Another part of me is overwhelmed and dismayed that it might take more time than I have on planet earth before I have any command of the Spanish language. When do I put a rein on the self-pity? When does the feeling-sorry-for-myself-fiesta come to a halt? When I remember how we can all struggle to be understood in our own native language, let alone another. I think on the countless times I have directly witnessed the frustration and sadness of non-native English speakers in the U.S. unable to fill out an application, receive basic services, or be treated with rudeness and contempt. Patience. We need more of it. I need more of it.

The work week came a bit too quickly I'll admit, but nevertheless, I celebrated this morning with a brewed cup of coffee - not instant! It was very exciting and I realized how much I missed it. I participated in two events today in which I learned quite a bit more about CASA and it's programs. The first was a tour. The head coordinator of all the programs gave us all an example in Spanish of how we should lead tours for the visitors that come to CASA. Truth... I would need to record the tour and listen to the audio at least 150 times before I was able to execute a tour in Spanish for Spanish-speakers. Being a part of the sample tour and hearing the coordinators and promotores explain the programs was wonderful. I know that a lot of work is done at CASA. I know that many people are involved with all types of aspects in this organization. Still, during and after the tour, I found myself struck by a delirious awe at just how much labor it takes to run a non-profit. This is actually a good segue into the next event I was involved with (I actually pleaded to join) which was an interview for a new Executive Director. No easy task! The room for the interview was populated by ten staff members and the prospective applicant. The interview took two and a half hours. I had a difficult time understanding some of what was being said, but for the most part I was able to follow along. Interviews - a grueling thing to be sure. It's so difficult to be able to express oneself with sincerity while trying to hide one's nervousness at the same time! It's difficult to be able to address the concerns of ten different people. Still, you've got to do something! I realized that I could very well be in the position of the person I was was sitting across from today... very soon. How will I prove my strengths and capabilities? How will I prove that I have something to offer an organization or team of people that they can't function with out? To be continued!

Just returned from the market after an incredible afternoon in Mexiquito. I bought two tuberoses down the street and their scent is beginning to fill the living room. We ate too many pastries. We have soccer or "fûtbol" on the television. At noon we journeyed to the two and a half hour soccer game with the children at the orphanage. We are beginning to earn their trust. They played their longest game today and seemed to really enjoy it. A couple of the kids attached themselves to me, became additional limbs to mine. They wanted to be held and carried. When I was sitting on the ledge, cheering for the teams, yelling out "gooooooooaaaaalllllllo!!" I either had one of the kids wrapped around my neck or multiple heads resting in my lap. One of the young ones discovered the tattoos on my shoulders. He immediatley called out to some of his companions to come and look. I'm assuming, given the shocked smiles, that it's uncommon for them to see tattoos on a woman. When I said that the drawing on my left shoulder was a memorial for my father whom had died ten years ago, I heard a soft whisper, "Mi padre tambien esta muerto." I looked into the eyes of one of my new friends, and for a moment there seemed to be an understanding that passed between us. We have begun a relationship that is being built with kindness, shared vulnerabilities, dust, sun, oranges, piggy back rides, conversations about favorite animals, sweat and laughter. I carry our conversations and hugs, a welcome burden. I hope that they will continue to share their lives with me.

And one never knows what they may encounter in a work day! There are a zillion thank you emails to send out. There's a lot of work to be done on a computer, in an office, obscured from the sun and fresh air. Then, a young boy walked into the office searching for water. Turns out he's the son of one of the coordinators for the midwifery programs who is also a midwife and teacher at the CASA hospital. He informed me that he didn't have school today because his teacher was in a meeting, therefore he came to work with his mom. After we introduced ourselves he just sort of fell into me for a hug. We started discussing favorite fruits, the importance of recycling, and how lately, he loves to chew on grass. Then..." Do you want to do something awesome? Let's go outside to the playground and play!" Folks that would be a yes on my part. I ditched the office and the computer and tried to keep up with my new friend. He told me he could run faster than me because of his "Sketchers." We climbed the stone structure, went down slides, and played on the teeter totter. Then we went on a merry go round type of thing and he helped to spin us around until I was pretty sure I was going to throw up. Next, was the biblioteca. I read him 5 books and then he said "do you want to see the book I have in my mom's car? It's just so beautiful." This little man is so great!!! He brought the book in, which happened to be gorgeously photographed and was from the Boston aquarium. We talked about his favorite sea animal, the manray, and as he turned the pages he would say, "okay, would you like to see something awesome?" "I would love to see something awesome" I replied. Then it was back outside for another round of slides. Ahhhhh!!! How I love the curiosity and excitement of children. How they are in the moment. I miss working and hanging around kids when too much time has passed. Back to the computer with a bag of watermelon, chile, and lime...por supuesto, and happy I was able to play today.

Sitting alone in the Fortalacimiento office at CASA. There is an interview going on for a new executive director so I am by myself. The hum of all of the computers surround me and I can hear some of the children playing and laughing outside. I am waiting patiently for the woman who comes to CASA to sell jicama, pineapple, watermelon, chicken feet, candy, chips with salsa and hot sauce, gorditas, sodas, and probably more. There are lots of emails to read and send. There are thank you's to be written to the people that came to our event on Friday. I'm also hoping to research effective ways to raise money online for Colectivo 41. I shared the sour gummy worms my Mom sent me with Karen, the graphic designer, because they are her favorite. I'm thankful for the calm light, interspersed with conversations with others in Spanish. Slowly, I'm able to answer, and to understand a little more than I could before. I feel like I'm drifting cloth in the breeze. The world is alright in here.

Las mujeres. Today we shared an educational presentation on sexual diversity with some of the women at the prison in Celaya. The Colectivo 41 coordinators had already done the presentation on HIV along with the rapid tests last week with the women, but they requested that we return to talk about sexual diversity. There were five of us total. We each introduced ourselves and talked a little about our sexual orientation and preferences. We also talked about language. A few of the volunteers referred to themselves as "jotos," "maricones," and other derogatory terms aimed at people that are gay. They wanted to express how powerful language is. Now, there are many in the LGBTI community that are reclaiming derogatory terms so that they can shift the negative connotations. Nonetheless, they expressed that derogatory terms are still used in a hateful manner by people that are homophobic, and this use is never acceptable. The women were really cool. Many of them seemed very open minded, curious, and sincerely interested in learning more about terms and definitions that they were not previously aware of. When one of the volunteers pulled out the wooden penis that was our learning tool for safe sex practices, I learned a lot of fantastic new words and exclamations that I'll spare you all from for now... but they were good! The volunteers talked about ways to practice safe sex with men. The women were also shown how to practice safe sex with other women, something we all admitted, was never taught to us in school. The evaluations given to us by all the women that attended were very positive. Many of them wrote that there wasn't sufficient enough time, and that they wished the presentation could have been longer than the two hours we were given. I wish that we could return but I've gathered that it's not possible right now. So thankful for the time I have spent in Celaya, with the volunteers and coordinators. As for all of the people I met and conversed with that are currently residing in the prison I could not be more grateful. Many of them did not have to smile at me or talk to me or express any kindness at all. Why should they trust me, after all? Yet and still, I felt welcomed, and not by the guards, but by the prisoners. Today's food choice - a large container of fresh pineapple with chile and lime, guyaba ice cream, another green sauce tamale, and a sandwich with avocado and ham. Everything picante! A good night to you all.

So the work week begins and back to the prison in Celaya we went. On the way, Miguel and a volunteer from the Colectivo 41 community asked me if I wanted a tamale for breakfast. Ummm, yes! We pulled over to a gas station where a woman was set up outside with a cart and steaming containers filled with a dozen different kinds of tamales. I choose "verde" which also contained chicken. It was the best tamale I've ever eaten. I polished it off with an instant "mokacappuchino" from the gas station. My stomach felt like it was going to throw a coup d'etat but it was worth it. After we arrived at the center for rehabilitation, we were escorted to the holding area of about 14 men. These men were sequestered in this area as they were deemed more "fragile" than many of the other men. There were men that were sick, quite a bit older, and also some with physical disabilities. They were a very congenial bunch and were very polite and kind to me. After the "practica" which is the lecture given by Miguel, the men had the option of taking the rapid HIV test. Today I felt just a little more at ease when Miguel was talking about contracting HIV through "fluido vaginal" and "fluido menstrual" than I did last time. But only a little! I was hyper-aware of the guard standing above us (it was an open air room with a gated ceiling) who was holding an automatic machine gun pointed directly down at us, but thankfully, he went somewhere else after the first 30 minutes. Once the men were waiting to take their tests, one man asked a guard if he could bring some items out to show me. Having no idea what to expect, I was completely taken aback when the man returned with these super cool bags, wallets, belts, and CD holders that he had created from recycled paper. Then another man brought out his bag of handmade beaded bracelets, earrings, and rosaries. Yes, I bought some of the items, oh yes, I happily indulged. The man who wove the bags out of recycled paper gave me a demonstration of his work. He folds paper, cellophane, and pieces of cardboard with such rapid deft precision it's like nothing I've seen. He uses a thick thread and a cut up credit card as his needle to weave the pieces of woven paper together. He told me he had been in this holding cell for four years. He works on these projects every day. Every time there is a new inmate that is assigned to this cell, he shows them how to weave also. He told me everyone contributes, they all help to make the products. He also told me that people come from San Miguel, Querétaro, and beyond to purchase the products and then sell them in their stores at double the price. It's okay with him though, he relays that it's good for him, for all of them. I told him his work was beautiful, that I'd never seen anything like it. I thanked him, controlled my dam of tears, and purchased two wallets made out of cellophane and old Fanta soda wrappers. I also bought some of the jewelery. I had to make sure that the slip of paper with his name and the other artist's name made it to the right person so that they could be credited. I left Celaya sad and incredibly uplifted at the same time. We stopped for "nieva" or as I learned another way of saying handmade ice cream. I decided to get pineapple with a douse of hot sauce and chili powder. It was the only way to eat it, and it was one of the most perfect tastes I've ever experienced. I feel as though I never want to leave the sun in Mexico.

We pulled it off!! Last night was the first major fundraiser for Colectivo 41, the LGBT youth program at CASA that I have been working for during this internship. After about a month of meetings, disagreements, and many emails, I was able to experience the direct manifestation of our hopes and ideas. We had a gorgeous house to host our event, graciously lent to us for the evening. All of the board members and volunteers made the dips (Ted and I made salsa and guacamole) and we had vegetarian chiccharones, jicama and carrots with lime and chile, margaritas, wine, and lots of peanuts! One of the volunteers played the baby grand piano as Ted, Jim, Susan, and I all sat outside and greeted people as they entered. It was incredible. At one point we had a line of people that did not let up for 20 minutes. Every person and every face that I said welcome, hello, como estas, thank you, what is your name please, would you mind signing our sheet... towards every one of them I felt an overwhelming warmth. Michael Schuessler, one of the co-editors of an amazing book entitled "Mexico escribe con una jota," presented a slide show of the history of the LGBT community in Mexico. He told the story of the "41" - for whom Colectivo 41 bases their name. After he spoke, I could feel the energy of the people in the room changing. They were interested. Many of those that came last night had no knowledge of Mexico's LGBT history or the reasoning behind the program's name. Now they knew, and now they cared. A group of LGBT youth from the San Miguel community spoke. Each time one of them told their own personal stories the room erupted in applause. Then a couple spoke. They were lesbians, they had an 8 year old daughter and they were one of the first same sex couples to be married in Mexico City. They said they wanted to help be involved in a project that would help promote support for the LGBT community so that their daughter would grow up in a world with less discrimination. My face was becoming sore with laughter and smiles and the ongoing containment keeping me from screaming yeaaaaaaaa through out everyone's story. Joy, our incredible board director gave the final pitch. She relayed her own interest in being a part of the group and she challenged everyone in the room to give what they could. She ended the speech by starting the donations off with her own $500 donation. The room sort of exploded with movement and talking and excited gestures. We collected envelopes with checks and cash. Our goal was to raise $15,000. I know we didn't reach that goal but we created awareness. There are over one hundred more people on the planet that know of Colectivo 41 today than 48 hours ago. We left the party, after saying many good-byes with hugs and kisses and felicitaciones. Karen drove Ted and I to CASA where fundraiser number two was going on. Although we were all tired, we committed to staying for just half an hour. It was a change of scene to say the least. Music was shaking the auditorium and there were about 30 young Mexican kids hanging out, mostly against the walls off to the side. No one was dancing. At first I felt incredibly intimidated. Here we were, awkward, older, white. How the heck were we going to dance and not look just...really dumb. And then a few of the promotores came up to me with squeals and hugs. They reminded me that I had promised I'd dance, even if they didn't. I had said I would! Alright then. I grabbed Ted and we headed out to the middle of the HUGE empty dance floor. We started dancing, Karen taking photos. Eventually we were joined by Gabby the fabulous librarian and her adorable cousin. We danced, we hopped around, Gabby and Mauricio were all style and class, we even played the limbo. It was great! Later, as Ted and I walked home with a leftover bag of potato chips, we realized that it was like being in high school again. Most of the young people there were just trying to figure out a way to get drunk and make out with someone. Maybe we were just feeling sentimental but it was pretty sweet actually. I was really happy to be home before midnight, eating chips and grinning like a fool as to my good fortune.

Dîa del amor y la amistad. Yes! In Mexico Valentines day is a pretty big deal. When one of my favorite co-workers walked into the office this morning we gave each other hugs and she told me that in Mexico, it's not just a day for lovers but also for friendship, hence "la amistad." I'm typically a little disgusted by Valentines day, a sentiment shared by many no doubt, but I really appreciated the focus on the love for family members and friends here. Many of the promotores had balloons and treats and were handing them out to each other. One of my lovely co-workers gave each of us a chocolate heart and a red heart lollipop. As I walked around town there were tables set up to sell marshmallow love pops, roses, jewelery, and more. Meanwhile, in the main square by the parroquia, people from all over San Miguel were gathering for the "One Billion Rising" dance that took place worldwide today. Sadly, I was not able to attend physically but I certainly felt a part of it in spirit. Knowing many women who have suffered from physical abuse, mental abuse, and rape, today I held them all close. I did pray for healing. And today I feel very loved. It took me an hour, and the help of 8 different people (with 8 different answers given) in order to find La Conexion, the post office for foreigners. Our first package! My mom's package from the U.S. arrived today. Sour gummy bears, earl grey tea, black licorice, chamomile tea the best digestion pills out there. Dearest Mum, friends and family, I LOVE YOU ALL, every day, not just today. Every day and all the time. Amor y la amistad. Un abrazo fuerte.

The volunteer

Yesterday I received an email from the Regional IE3 coordinator for Latin America. He was checking in with all of the IE3 interns, making sure we were all okay, and reminding us that we were more than halfway done with our internships. I just stared at my computer dumbstruck for a few moments. What if I had decided to just do the ten week internship instead of five months? I think I would be a little devastated just now. Being the volunteer coordinator at CASA and being a volunteer myself, I realize how much time it takes to build relationships within an organization. It's a tricky situation. It's difficult to refrain from letting one's expectations and personal/professional goals get in the way of the actual experience. To volunteer- an interesting phenomenon. One has to be in the position financially to do such a thing as labor gratis. Then, one must learn the art of patience, as it can take an indefinite amount of time to develop trust within an organization. It's a worthwhile idea to leave one's desire for accolades or recognition of "heroic" acts at home. Shiny, poignant music filled visions of a documentary (guilty!) in which you star... helping the less fortunate, walking through dirt villages, holding the hands of precious children, laughing crying, sharing "exotic" food, for example. Yes, best just to toss these lofty goals over your shoulder before you even get to the door. There can be language differences, cultural differences, personality differences and more. People are working, working really hard to try and make an organization function and thrive. They might have time to thank you, they might not. They are thankful. What's more, as a volunteer, one must ask themselves - why? Why do you volunteer? I actually don't think that question will be answered, personally speaking, anytime soon. If I don't concern myself with the unwarranted pressure to have fabulous and amaaaazzzinnggg experiences everyday, than I just experience working hard and sharing time with people. I don't need to be responsible for more than that. Show up my friend. It's worth it.

Celaya

Today I experienced many firsts. It was the first time I went to a prison in Mexico. It was the first time I was in a space of maximum security. It was the first time I shared a room with 30 plus men that were accused of committing a variety of heinous crimes. It was also the first time I had a buffet lunch in Mexico. After we arrived and went through the protocol to enter the prison, we gathered in an outdoor room for a presentation followed by a rapid HIV test. Miguel, one of the coordinators from Colectivo 41 led the presentation on HIV. He discussed how it's contracted and the ways in which it can be prevented. Finally, he offered everyone the option to take the test. That is to say the men had the choice to take an HIV test and find out the results, surrounded by their cellmates, in about ten minutes. I was concerned that given a certain result, one or more of the men might not react, let's say...well...to this news. It would be more than accurate to say that I had multiple fears and concerns walking into this space. At the same time, I wanted to be open minded and I wanted to be calm. After the presentation by Miguel, the men started filling out paper work and lining up for their tests. Miguel could only do one test at a time and needed to spend a full 15 to 20 minutes with each person at the testing table. We were going to be there for awhile. A few of the guards called out that "pan" was being given out at the window and they could line up in an orderly manner to get some. I was invited to partake and one of the men kindly handed me three sweet breads out of his stack of ten. I sat down in a chair next to Terry, a lovely woman who was our escort into the prison. She explained to me that the jail wasn't actually a prison but rather a holding place for those that had been accused of crimes and had not yet been committed. Some of the men had been waiting to be sentenced for as much as five years. She told me many of them were visited by their family members daily and that most of their families had to travel for hours to get there. A few of the men engaged me in conversation, asked where I was from and told me of some of their own experiences in the U.S. I was shown a photo of one man's grandchild, a beautiful little girl whom had been born a month ago. Four hours later, Miguel conducted the final test. As far as I could tell, everyone seemed okay. Many of the men kept thanking us for our time. We thanked them and shook hands with many and said goodbye. They were polite and respectful. Any preconceived notions I had about these men were completely eradicated. Obviously, many of these men are in prison for a reason. Many of them might also be guilty of their crimes. Many of these crimes, could very well have been horrifying. It just isn't my job to judge them. They were not animals or inferior human beings. I will never know their stories or why they may have made the choices they did. I was also told some incredibly disturbing stories as to forms of punishment that were carried out there, on the prisoners. Needless to say, it will take an indefinite amount of time to process today's experience...if that's even possible. Thankful to the coordinators of Colectivo 41, whom continually inspire me with their courage and beauty. Thankful to Terry, the fantastic new friend in Celaya, and thankful for the ability to be able to participate in today's activities.

Saturday. Ted and I walked a dirt path along the highway to our soccer game at the Mexiquito orphanage. It was around noon and the sun was directly overhead. As we arrived and walked towards the area we would eventually be playing a game on, I heard Gangnam style blasting from a stereo inside and witnessed some of the younger boys with big plastic glasses on strike poses and finish up a dance routine. Side note- the song "Gangnam style" is EVERYWHERE here. It's literally the only song we hear when we walk to the markets, or by the pirated cd shops, cell phone stores, shoe stores... all over. I'll admit I had been looking forward to seeing these kids all week. The boys slowly starting milling over when Ted and I engaged in a little one on one soccer match. Mike and Ted started bringing out the soccer balls, whistles, and orange cones for the match between "Los Azules vs Los Rojos." The boys already seemed a little tired from the morning but they still wanted to play, and what's more they wanted to play with everything we brought. My sunglasses were taken within the first five minutes. They looked better on the boy that wore them than me. I brought out a bottle of water and every one of them wanted a drink and then wanted to hold it... without letting it go. I brought out my sunscreen and forget about it! Surrounded in seconds by pleas for "bloqueador, bloqueador!" I gave each of them a little dab on their faces and then Mike blew the whistle and it was time to play. I cheered along with the very cool Madre (as in she's kind and calm) who has been joining along with the games. She clearly loves these kids and has a fantastic sense of humor. Even when the ball was launched towards her head she just laughed adjusted her habit and went back to playing with the smallest child of the group, a wee little guy wearing a shirt with a pumpkin face, probably not quite 2 years old. This same little one likes to play a game with me where he brings me plastic bottle caps full of dirt and I have to pretend it is a treat and eat it. During the rest between games, one of the kids was looking at a book and when I expressed interest in it, he handed it to me to read. It was called "Perdidos en el Bosque" and it was a version of Hansel and Gretel. I read it five times, as each time we finished they would say, "again!" And with little hands wrapping around my arms, heads pressed into my neck, bodies resting all their weight on my back, I felt like I could read to them all day. Whistles blew and "good game" and "game over" were shouted amongst the boys as they ran off to the kitchen for their lunch.

Ted was pretending to be a "caballo" and giving piggy-back rides and after he was able to finally peel the last boy off his back, we shouted our good-byes and thank you's to the Madre and the kids. Next weekend Mike, the coordinator of the games will be gone so we won't go until the following week. I'm a little sad that two weeks will go by before we can come back. Still, we get to come back, and the thought of being able to continue building relationships with many of these kids is... YEA!!!!!!!

An ideal morning. Why? Because I woke up crabby and tired. I had finally checked books out from the Biblioteca thanks to one of my compañeras at CASA and all I wanted to do today was lay in the sun, read, listen to Lila Downs and drink ten cups of hot chocolate. With all of those wants hanging from the tips of my shoulders, pulling me closer to the dust, I walked to my day at CASA. After a short time, we had a two hour long meeting in the development office. I just listened with ever cell of energy I could muster. Listening without letting my crabby thoughts cloud my mentality allowed me to be present. My attitude shifted. I even started to understand a little more than I had before. By the time the meeting was over, I was there. I didn't want to escape any longer, I wanted to work. I started researching ways in which we could fund Colectivo 41 with online resources. I walked over to the building where all the promotores were working just so I could say hi and let them know I missed working with them. I was able to speak a little more Spanish that I could a week ago. I enjoyed my day in the office immensely, and then I came home. I'm not just making this up for added glitz; the chocolate really tasted better than it would have this morning.

How does one fund raise? How do you ask for money? Why does asking for money make some of us feel nauseated or like passing out from panic? How were you raised to think about money? Does it feel good to give money to a cause you believe in? If it feels good to give money, why is it so hard to ask for money? These were just some of the themes we addressed in our fund-raising retreat today. I'll speak for myself. I'm a little terrified of money. Correction - I panic and at many times lose sleep over the "idea" of not having money. Perhaps it comes from being raised in low-income family. I realized at a very young age how incredibly limiting not having money could be. Obviously, I didn't need to have a wardrobe of Esprit clothes, a Swatch watch, or 17 kinds of shimmering lipstick. I sure as hell felt like a lesser human at the time because I didn't though! I started working at a very early age because I believed money equaled power. Money would give me the freedom to buy what I wanted. Money could provide an exit from my hometown. Money could help me escape. And I really thought at the time, that if I had a pair of $50 suede knee high boots to wear to high school, I was one step closer to being a successful actress in New York. HAHAHAHHHA!! Ah, the teenage years...the adult years, how very little they differ in certain regards. I still think money will bring me freedom. Not all the time, but often. Money for clothes, shoes, shiny toys, and cars...not so much. Today's money fantasies; being able to fix my teeth, having good health insurance, being able to take care of my Mom so she can stop working, a solid year to travel around the world. So what happens when I'm approached by someone with a binder or a clipboard asking me for money for a cause... I panic. "I can't, I don't have enough, I just walked out of Whole Foods with a $4.00 beverage that's supposed to make me healthy but I NEED it...so I can't give money to help... And then there are the times when I do donate. When I donate just a little bit more out of my comfort zone, to something that I believe in and love. I have never ever regretted it. I have regretted walking away from others. Even though by many standards in the U.S., I'm just a low income student, I am still able to give...even if it's $10. Being in Mexico and directly witnessing how just a little bit of money (meaning less than $2,000) can provide the income for a peer counselor for six months, has shifted my own beliefs surrounding money tremendously. I can give more. I want to give more. I would feel nauseated and like passing out from panic if I did not. To all the proud donors out there, thank you for believing in someone or something. Thank you for giving your support. Thank you for sharing money.

We are getting ready today for our fundraising workshop tomorrow. There's a lot of details that go into this preparation. I will spare you kind readers from these details. I will describe some wonderful moments through out the day. Walking to the papeleria down the street to make copies of documents. The sun was close to us, warmth wrapped around my back and neck. I walked by the tortellerias that display dozens of raw chickens piled onto the counter next a small tower of egg filled cartons. I walked by the beauty shop, the car repair shop, the mini tiendas filled with everything from ribbons to a thousand varieties of Doritos. I walked past the children in school uniforms holding the hands of their parents, lapping happily on an ice cream cone or lollipop. I walked past one of the most incredible cactus plants that exists, I walk by it daily but it does not lose its awe. I feel lucky that I am a 5 month guest in this neighborhood. The smell of gasoline and dust, sun and soap, and the ever present corn tortillas frying; these have become the scents I am familiar with now. My feet ache happily each night from walking on these erratic cobblestone streets. I am slowing down and I realize how much I needed to. A lovely night to you all.

Today is a holiday here in San Miguel. It's the anniversary of the constitution tomorrow but it's being recognized today so as to give everyone a three day weekend. I think that's very kind. There has been an incredibly wonderful new development in our lives here - Ted is officially volunteering, by helping run futból games, every Saturday at the Hogar Casa Mexiquino, which is a boys orphanage. I go along with him to take pictures and shout support from the sidelines. The mini games were started by a guy from the U.S. named Mike. We met him one night through my IE3 contact here and within five minutes the idea was put forth for Ted and I to join in. This has been one of the best decisions we've made. There are two different groups of kids that play. The first are the little ones, ages from about 4 to 7. Then there are the "grandes" which are about 8-10 years. This last Saturday the "grandes" were really not into playing so it was just the smaller kids. Both Ted and Mike struggle with their Spanish, and the games are really informal (as in rules don't seem to apply too much), but the point is to have fun.

That we did. The kids went totally berzerk for Ted. Once they realized he was willing to be a human jungle gym and vessel for catching leaps into the air from an asphalt ledge, it was all over. A few of the boys kept returning to me so that they could climb into my lap and cuddle for awhile. I started scheming of ways that I could adopt them all - a feeling not uncommon to many, no doubt. The truth is that I can't stop thinking about them. It's a little haunting. Obviously I do not have the ability nor the wherewithal to adopt these children. I don't even know if would be a good idea if I could! I do feel that I can commit to spending time with them each week. Some things have become very simple as of late. Offer your love and respect. I think if one does that, even if things aren't okay, they really are okay.