Nothing makes you sweaty like exercise

I've deemed bell peppers to be unfit for multi-day consumption. Freshly cut bell peppers are a wonderful treat: crunchy and watery, with a slight tang. Even day-old bell peppers are edible with a daub of ranch dressing, but beyond that, they get too dry and tough, like old farmers. Cooked bell peppers are even less persistent. Tthe first time you cook them and they're still warm they're a welcome addition to any dish with ethnic overtones, but beware lest you heat them a second time. They basically lose all the qualities that once made them bell peppers. The flesh becomes bitter and assumes a distinctly mucousy texture, which, instead of crunching, sort of oozes between your teeth with a sickening squelch. The skin, which on a freshly cooked pepper is tender and lends added texture, becomes tough and plasticine. The best comparison I can make is to the insulation you find around small gauge wire. Chewing it becomes a tiresome chore, compounded by the necessity of flossing afterward to dislodge the fragments that have knifed their way into your gums, which is itself another tiresome chore. In conclusion, the erstwhile delicious bell pepper, when cooked and reheated, becomes the Sith of vegetables, spreading misery and disgust to whatever unlucky denizens cross its path.

(part) 4 on the floor

It's that time once again, kiddies. This is taking MUCH longer than I thought it would, but at least it allows me to keep putting off writing about the last day. If you're lucky I'll do it before I forget what happened. Enjoy...or don't, it's up to you.

Day Three: The Bucket Brigade
So now we had a roof over our heads, precariously propped up by concrete beams and sticks ground to ceiling the Mexican workers inserted for added support. The final step in construction was to pour a couple inches of concrete over the top of everything to solidify it. You might say it's the icing on the cake. Fortunately we had a machine on our side this time: a concrete mixer. I guess in previous years they've had to make a mountian of ingredients on the sidewalk then mix it with shovels. Glad I wasn't down there in previous years. So, recycling our wall-brick scaffolding from yesterday we formed another human conveyor belt from the mixer to the rooftop. The workers had somehow hoisted two wheelbarrows up there. I never really saw what they were doing up there anyway. Oh well. Our 2 gallon buckets were slightly lighter than the bricks, but we also lifted probably three times as many of them. I manned a wheelbarrow for most of the day, conveying half-mixers of concrete from the machine to the "elevator", and spent some time on the shoveling crew as well, filling our five-gallon measuring cups with sand and gravel. We polished off the two smaller roofs that day...boy was it a long day. We didn't finish until about 2pm. Lunch was some wonderful kind of fajitas, which for most of us simply became a mountain of food on our plates. Back home for showers and siestas. Most of us were rather late to VBS because we were simply exhausted. Some people went to the cenote briefly, but I didn't. I missed the whole thing, so you'll have to ask somebody else about it. I was supposed to be the High Priest in the Saul to Paul skit, but Matt Vargas was apparently a suitable understudy.

(Part) 3's company

Keepin' on keepin' on, whether you schmucks read this or not, here's...

Day Two: Brick Your Back
The concrete beams we raised yesterday were the support for the approximately 500 cinder blocks, each weighing about 35 lbs, which constituted the main portion of the roof. We formed a mostly stable pyramid of blocks upon which three of us stood while several more more brought them blocks from the ground and an increasing number of people on the roof passed them on to Luis who quickly slapped them down into place. Props to Luis who was up there all day in the sun. I spent about half my time on the ground crew and half up top, with only a little on the top since I lack the upper body strength to hoist them above my head. Props also to Peter, Matt, and Joel, who did a lot of that. Alicia and Sara got into the act, being athletic and enthusiastic, and we much appreciated the extra teammates. Even anna, Jeff's 17 yr old daughter heaved bricks with us. It got interesting later when we were down to our last few bricks and we had to use up the pyramid. Fortunately the church had a surplus of wall bricks (which were a different shape) that we could use to build a (less stable) backup pyramid. Lunch that day was tacos which none of us will quickly forget, as they were mind-alteringly delicious. Maybe it was in part because we had already burned up our daily 2000 calories by then. No matter. Once again home for a cold shower and siesta, then back at 5 for VBS again. Alicia and I were sneering religious leaders in a skit about Jesus's healing of the paralytic (we borrowed one of the little boys) his friends lowered through the ceiling. Apparently everyone loved my facial expressions and comically condescending demeanor. I guess being weird has its advantages.

After dinner Armando, one of the church's deacons told us a little about himself and some background of the church. He migrated illegally to the states some years ago and worked and saved and sent money home to support his family. Then he moved back and opened a hardware shop in town. He's been blessed richly by a successful business there. His brother is an illegal immigrant working in Oregon and sending money back to his family in the village. He hasn't been home in over a year. Many of the men do that because there are simply no jobs in that region. Farming is hard because the soil is very rocky and small villages do not have tourist income to support them. Canada has a trade agreement with Mexico whereby Canadian industries hire Mexican workers directly for fixed terms, and pay their wages and living expenses for that duration. Unfortunately no such agreement exists in the states because labor unions would never allow it. However, 90% of illegal immigrants are people like Armando and his brother, who literally risk their lives to come work in the states so they can provide for their families back home. Anyone could tell you that Mexicans constitute the majority of the agricultural workforce, and here in CA, a majority of the construction workforce too. Think about that next time someone brings up immigration laws.

The church, which is Presbytary of Mexico, used to be the authoritarian regime of the former pastor and his cronies. One of them was even caught in adultery and he tried to cover it up and downplay it to retain his position of power. Finally some of the members, including Armando, worked up the gall to report them to the presbytary, which is a collective of elders from Presbytarian churches in the region that oversees them as an adminstrative body, including disciplinary action. They removed the former pastor and his comrades and replaced him with Pastor Ulysses, who is a very kind and godly man who preaches straight from scripture and clearly loves and glorifies the Lord in all things.

Hot Shots, Part Deux

Quick, while I have working internet access, here's the next chapter. Wahoo!

Now, on to the fun. My story will be a lopsided portrayal because I wasn't involved with the women's or children's ministries, but I'll tell what involvment I had.

Day one: The Beam Team
In order to put the roofs on the three rooms under construction we had to lift a total of about 50 15 foot long 400 pound concrete beams 12 feet high and set them atop the walls...with nothing but out hands, sticks, and ropes. It took 5 of us to lift one, carry it about 150 ft. over to the room, then several more with long sticks to help the two or three standing on the walls hoist them up with ropes and push them into place. Nico and Luis were the heros of the wall. None of us were ballsy enough to stand up there and heave those things around. Definitely not an OSHA approved job site. Oh, and did I mention that it was about 95 degrees with 80% humidity? But that wasn't until noon, and we worked the whole morning to beat it. Nevertheless, sweat was pouring out of us like we were perforated. I think I put down about 32 oz. of water an hour. After lunch we went home for a much needed cold shower and siesta until 5 when VBS started. Felix and I taught a couple boys how to throw frisbees. I was a crowd member ignoring Zaqeo as he tried to see Jesus. Rather disorganized, but the kids thought it was funny. Dinner about 8, then we all hung out for a bit before going back home, another cold shower, and going to bed.

Stay tuned folks. Same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Microsoft to the rescue?

Yeah yeah, I know I still owe you parts 2 through whatever of the Mexico experience. But there's a problem. Windows has decided it doesn't want me to use the internet. I have the darndest time connecting to anything, and I get a lot of dropped connections. In other words, my internet access now hobbles along on two broken legs, falling into ditches quite frequently. At first I thought it might be comcast, so I checked everything I could given my newfound disabilities, and found no evidence that it was my connection. So I checked the settings in my router. All kosher there, when I could get to them without losing the connection (that's a hint, boys and girls). So I boot into good ol' linux, which I haven't used in over a year. VOILA! Everything works exactly as it should.

So that narrows the problem down to windows. I guess I probably didn't need to do all that work to find that out. So in the mean time I'm gonna keep chipping away at winblows' resolve until I figure out what's killing my internet connection. Wish me luck.

A momentary interruption

I'll post part two tomorrow, but I wanna get this in edgewise first. I feel like the only person who pays attention sometimes. This morning while I was driving to work I was in the center of 3 lanes with a white corolla in front of me and a mercedes following too closely behind a pickup in the lane to my left. The corolla driver signaled to move left and positioned himself between the mercedes and the pickup. She stays there for a few seconds waiting for the mercedes to let him in, which he completely fails to do. I was watching his head and he didn't even look, just kept right on going. So I decide to be the nice guy since there's nobody behind me. I slow down and let the corolla in and what does the mercedes guy do as soon as that's done? He jets out into my lane. I shook my head at that very one-wayed exchange.

Ironically the same guy ended up behind me making a right turn a little later. We were stuck behind a big box truck who, when he makes the right turn, drives right down the center of our two lanes. As I'm waiting for him to pick a lane, I signal to go left. Soon as the truck settles into the right lane I check behind me (good thing) to move over and Mr. Mercedes jets out around me and takes over. Again I saw his head, and again he seemed to be absolutely obilivious of my well-displayed intentions. He had this smug look on his face the whole time too...that mercedes must be compensating for something. I'm glad he thinks it's important to drive like a jackass...but then that's the rule, not the exception down here it seems.

The other incident was much less dangerous, and therefore more amusing. To get into our building we have to scan our badges on the RFID reader outside the door to unlock it. If several people are going through, only one needs to scan. So as I was walking quickly (as I'm wont to do) up the path to my building, I overtake a middle-aged woman heading in the same direction. I get to the RFID reader about 10 paces ahead of her and decide to be a gentleman and hold the door. I watch her as she totally ignores me, scans her badge, walks over to the door and only then notices that I've been holding it the whole time.

Maybe it's because I still have my youthful vigor, maybe it's because I eat much less sugar than the average American, or maybe something's wrong with me instead, but sometimes I just don't get people. Don't get the wrong impression, I thought all of this was pretty funny. A little pathetic maybe, but funny nonetheless. Granh.

Speak N Say (are the same thing)

Alright alright, it’s been enough procrastination now. Here at last is the details of my trip to Mexico, hacked down into almost bite-size chunks for your reading pleasure. The trip lasted 8 days, from April 30th to May 8th. (Yes, my math is correct.) I’ll post these a few days apart so people have time to read it without feeling overwhelmed...you people have no idea how long this post might have been...

Day Zero: Liftoff
After nearly three months of preparation, the 17 of us arrived at the church parking lot between 10 and 11 am, luggage in hand and ready to go. There was some praying and some last minute sorting of bags (i.e. who would take the cooking equipment, sports stuff, toys, etc.) then we piled our bags into two large vans and were on our way. The one hour drive was marked with the typical jesting and boistrous conversation typical of a 20s subset. Upon arriving at SFO we checked in for the flight, checked all our bags, and began the long march down the terminal to our gate, having an overly expensive lunch.

A 4 hour flight to Houston (I saw how barren NV is and the oil fields of west TX), a two hour layover (Carol felt at home), a three hour flight to Cancún (it was dark by then, so nothing to look at), and a two hour bus ride to Valladolid (some played "Whiz Boing Bounce" and some of us attempted to sleep through their laughing).

We rolled in about 2AM. Saw my first scorpion at the hotel, on the stairs; about two inches long. One girl shouted "AUGH, It's moving!" to which somebody answered, "That would mean it's alive."

Bright and early we piled on the bus again, bags and all, and headed for our village, Teabo, which was about two hours drive from there. It ended up being closer to three because the highway suddenly vanished into a construction zone that looked more like a strip mining operation. The detour was a one-lane, hastily constructed dirt road that ran along side it and wound up and down and zig-zagged about over the rocky hills that hide beneath the Yucatecan jungle. I've never been off-roading in a charter bus before. But wait, there's more! Arriving in Teabo it became clear that Mexican towns are not built for tour busses. To get to the church, we had to abandon the attempt to get around one corner nestled between four cement buildings and three-point turn around two others. The drivers of those things deserve applause.

Disembarking and disembagging the bus, we were greeted by Roger (which has a strange pronunciation in Spanish), AKA El Sapo, who was the staffer of the organization that handles the projects we were participating in. He showed us the work that lay ahead for the men, the room converted into a kitchen for the women, and escorted us to the houses where we were to sleep. The families who normally lived there basically moved out for a week to accommodate us. The family of my house happened to have huts out back that they stayed in. Seen in the Yucatan, a lot of people still live in mud and stick huts with thatched roofs. However, the last hurricane that blew over killed enough people to convince the government to subsidize one-room cement & brick buildings for each household. A number of them have gradually evolved into two or three room houses for those who could afford it. More on that later maybe. Roger also showed us how to hang our hammocks and more importantly how to sleep in them. The proper method is diagonally, so it makes a flat spot for you to lay in. Unfortunately it still didn't save my back. We got ourselves situated and prepared for the week.

If this hasn't whetted your apetite, you'd better lay off the junk food, doofus.