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.