Vivo en Tejas

Below is my drawing to show ya'll where I live:

• As you can see, the tip of Texas extends about 1/3 of the way down Mexico and borders the state of Tamaulipas.
• The shiny dagger represents the wherabouts of the murderous drug war between good cops, bad cops, and drug lords that's currently being waged.
• The yellow construction indicates my happy home.
• The black face with Xs for eyes is for the 30 year old woman who died just died of swine flu (first US resident in to die from it)
• And the poorly drawn pig wearing a mask represents the town where the baby who died from swine flu resided shortly before his death (first sf death in the US). And ohhh yeah, people are sporting the masks around town these days. My favorite are the ones that people got from their nail technicians.

bah hahaha, true stories. But for my mamma's sake, let me just reiterate, that I feel safe here and am more worried about being attacked by fire ants when I walk around in sandals outside, than anything else.

Writing: My Anti-Swine Flu

I feel the need to exemplify a little further how far removed I am from my idea of America here in the Rio Grande Valley. I keep reminding myself that I am in America (because seriously it's basically another world down here), and what I am experiencing is in fact very American. Afterall, our country was cultivated by immigrants. The funny thing here though is that many people are not immigrants: they have lived here for generations (back when Texas was Mexico!). However, many people still speak only Spanish or maybe Tex-Mex (a wonderful sort of Spanglish), and they maintain Mexican traditions of family and religion. For example, many women after giving birth wear cotton balls in their ears and stay at home for 40 days.

Other observations of "The Valley"
Lizards and big bugs everywhere! And babies and small dogs as accessories.

The tap water is terrible--I assume the cause being that it's a big agricultural valley and also down-stream from a thousand miles of farm land. Because of this, every few blocks there are water stations where you can buy good water for 25cents a jug. Water Privatization is here folks!

I'm basically sweating from the time I wake up until I fall asleep.

You may have to pull out your Spanish at the restaurant or gas station, or driving down the street, as most signs are in Spanish and many people do not speak English. Though Ojo! (look out): A lot of people look like they speak Spanish, but they don't!

Breakfast tacos are the best. Before 11am or so you can get yummy warm tortillas filled with eggs or beans or something else bettered by the fact that it's wrapped in a home-made tortilla! Ojo: it's either made with trans-fat or lard. Pick your evils (Lard for me!)

Colonias: basically little slums where people were mislead by developers to believe if they bought homes or land to build on, they would receive water and services like electricity and sewage, but more often than not, never did. (illegal!) Families of 8 or more are often living in 3 room homes (*I did not say bedrooms)

On the weekends places sell barbacoa, which is slow-roasted (either underground or over a fire) pig, cow, or sheep. Menudo is also popular, which is a dish made with cow stomach/intestines, and is apparently a good hangover cure (I'll chance the hangover, thanks).

The RGV (Rio Grande Valley) is set up along "the express way," so you find yourself driving down the same fast food and Walmart lined road all the time. Whataburger, Sonic, and McDonalds are HUGE here.

People appear to have no regard for environmental conservation and they're not very good at picking up after themselves. Public bathrooms are often a disaster. And everyone is always eating out of styrofoam with plastic utensils. I've yet to see a recycling bin, and when I bring my own bag to grocery shop, people are like, "Why??".

Palm trees and tropical flowers

Texas is the worst state ever and there are no sidewalks to ride my bike on, which is sad. Because there's no way I'm riding in the streets when the drivers are so dumb that they need shoulders the size of standard lanes. Oh yes, and everyone drives pickups.

I'm pretty sure there are no laws here.

Fresh From The Oven

1 Quinceanera + 2 babies + 1 garden = 4 days in Weslaco

Life flows on in steamy Weslaco. Time is hard to palpate here as the humidity is so thick that you seem to float through the space of a day. As I was attending a birth around 8:30am the other day (was it yesterday?) I found myself musing aloud, is it AM or PM? The combination of heat, the isolation of the Holy Family compound where I live and work, and the nature of the work: crawling out of bed in the middle of the night to walk over to the birth suite, staying up until the wee hours and then sleeping until I wake, make the concept of time and diurnal routine seem very mysterious.

The two births I’ve attended have been wonderful. The women here are warriors. They arrive nearly ready to drop the baby from their pelvis, they walk around a bit, and then push their babies into the world with little complaint (drug free) in a matter of contractions.

I am further impressed by the care I am able to give at the center. I feel like I can fully give myself to caring for the women and not feel burdened by negativity and the pressure to judge the patients. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about working in a hospital that sets people up for being judgmental and resentful of patients. It’s as if you don’t judge your patients (commenting on their lifestyle or individual choices, be it for healthcare or clothes or whatever), you risk being judged by your peers as being one of them for not noticing all their downfalls. Maybe it’s that nursing is a bit isolating, since you care for your patients on your own for the most part, so maybe talking about patients is a way to bond with co-workers. But people are at their most vulnerable when they are in the hospital, and nurses and doctors often forget this and become disconnected from what a significant life experience it is to be hospitalized. It makes me sick, and it’s one of many reasons I hated working in the hospital system.

Here, I feel relieved to be able to put all of that aside and put my energy toward loving and caring for the patient. It’s very freeing. I had forgotten what it was like to give myself completely to a something or someone. I am reminded of how much grace there is in letting go and letting yourself be an instrument for something beyond you (whether you call that God, or the universe, or something else).

Yesterday I attended a Quinceanera, which is a sort of “coming out” party for a girl when she turns 15. Many Latin American cultures have this custom on different levels, but it’s a big deal for many Mexican families. The Quinceanera queen is dressed in a fancy white dress (think poufy wedding dress), and she is attended by her Quinceanera court of friends and family (think wedding party). There are floral arrangements, a DJ, food, professional pictures, gifts, dance presentations, and of course the presentation of the young lady. I had fun dancing to county-western, reggaton, cubia, and a strange assortment of 80s and techno.

Yesterday too, I started my garden, or rather I took over the garden of the girl who is leaving next week. I nibbled on some mint leaves while carefully placing lettuce seeds into the earth and watering the existing crop of carrots and beans. There are papaya and fig trees on the grounds, whose abundance I look forward to tasting soon. Food is so much more appreciated (and so much yummier) when you watch its growth, anticipating it, and finally receiving the immediate gratification upon picking and tasting it right out of the dirt. Que rica es la vida!

"I moved to Texas, and all I got was type-2 diabetes"

Woah, Texas is huge. Seriously huge. Not just the sheer size of it, but everything within it too! The sky. The pigeons. The people. The food. The charm.

Who knew I’d love Texas so much? The deeper in I got, the more carnivorous I felt. By day two, I lost any sort of vegetarian repulsion I had for chicken and dove into a plate full of enchiladas verde. Yum. I see signs for meat everywhere—homes converted into deer processing stations, steak houses on every corner and punctuating the highways like mile markers (not to mention McDonald’s and Sonic as well), cows and sheep out grazing in pasture, and signs for barbacoa, chicharron, and caldo de res.

The drive, though incredibly long, was surprisingly beautiful. I had no idea how green Texas was. I’d pictured a giant dust bowl with tumble weeds blowing by. I remembered something of the sort from a fall trip during my childhood, but it appears to be a whole new world in the springtime. There were also the oddities that only an American roadtrip can supply, such as “Safari” parks, roadside chapels, cowboy supply stores or “emporiums,” saddle and boot repair shops, and factories wrapped in giant star-spangled banners. Tractors rested in the bright yellow and green prairie, and bluffs gently enclosed the roads. There were windmills in vast rain-filled fields and creeks with names like Potato and Pecan.

I arrived in Weslaco last night around 8:30. I spent the night before in San Antonio with Jill, which was wonderful as can be expected. We dined on breakfast tacos at a 24hr Mexican restaurant after my 15 hours of driving that day.
Weslaco is a lot bigger than I expected and I’m actually feeling very at home…whatever the hell that means at this point. It honestly feels like another country though down here, 10 miles from the border. It’s basically Mexico, but with a distinctive Texan "qual-ty."

The clinic feels a lot like the clinic in Bali. There’s the minimally stocked clinic next to the giant communal kitchen and the staff dorms. There are chickens, and cats and a dog. And though it has a very communal feeling, it also feels lonely. Once the lights go out, people stick to themselves, and there’s no tv or internet to keep you company. (That’s a lie: there is, but not in the capacity of most American homes, were it serves as the great adult after dinner activity/babysitter). The place used to be full of nuns I’m told, but they’ve all left. Currently there is an LPN, a PhD student, and the midwife/director’s son who are living here. However after next week, it’ll just be me and the 19 year old son. The midwife lives down the road, the other RN lives in town, as do the administrative and cleaning staff.

It’s so hot that I have no desire to leave the little compound, and I’ll admit I’m a little intimidated by the strange town. Hopefully I'll become more acclimated soon, and venture out by bicycle. I brought her all the way out here, and I'll be damned if I don't load up my little red basket with fresh corn tortillas and have myself a little picnic!