cantseetheforrest.com

I bought this in the airport on the way to Seattle this weekend. I started reading it on the plane while listening to my iPod and caught myself laughing out loud several times. A little awkward at times but well worth it. I finished it the same weekend, which is amazing considering all the other way more important events of the weekend.

As a Canby Cougar I studied French for three years. I chose French over Spanish because some of my friends were already taking it, and thought it would be a useful tool in my desire to woo women. I have worked in Mexico for the last 17 years and am still waiting to meet a French speaking Mexican so I can dazzle her with my command of the French language that I had perfected as a high schooler more than 20 years previously.

As you can probably guess, my choice of studying French has not served me all that well. I have slowly and painfully been learning Spanish by trail and error, relying on the teaching of kids in the colonias.  Some mistakes have been made. When ordering a sandwich, jamón (ham) can not be interchanged with jabón (soap).

A scary thing about relying on kids and teenagers as teachers is you are never quite sure what they are teaching you. This, however, is a two way street.

Matt and I worked together in Juarez during the summer of 1996. At times, we noticed the local teenage boys trying to work their newest pickup lines on the high school girls in our work groups. The girls were mildly interested and this only encouraged the boys to keep trying and the girls to lose focus on the job at hand. Matt and I figured how to solve the problem and  began to teach the boys english. The boys wanted to learn how to translate simple things like, “Como te llamas” (what is your name), and “Cuántos años tiene” (how old are you). This was fine and we obliged. It was when it went further and became distractive that we stepped in.  When they wanted to say things like “Usted es bonita” (you are pretty) and “Bèseme” (kiss me), we may have slightly twisted the translation. Phrases like “Usted es bonita” in spanish became “I have a rash” in english. Nothing puts the brakes on a be budding international relationship faster than this announcement from a would be Romeo. “I have a rash” is much easier to teach (and less cruel) than the originally desired phrase of “I am the product of inbreeding”, which proved to be to difficult for the Romeo’s to learn.

Matt now works for Cup of Hope teaching about simple bio sand water filters that can provide clean drinking water for those in need. He recently was in San Diego to present to us and help us dream of the possibilities.

It’s probably a good thing that Matt and I never chose to follow the career path of english teachers.

I love spending time with the people who protect our borders. The way they work as a fully integrated unit with the rest of our government is seamless. Today I had to bring one of our broken vehicles out of Mexico on our trailer. This process is never much fun. It involves sitting in the regular border line waiting (for what can be hours) to cross rather than going through the SENTRI lanes. The process usually goes something like this.

Wait in line.

Get to the booth, show registrations for all vehicles involved, explaining why you’re towing the vehicle and where you’re coming from.

Wait in line.

Get sent to secondary inspection for further review.

Wait in line, but only after being yelled at for not waiting in the right spot. This is after being ignored for about 10 minutes. After doing this for years, I’ve concluded that the only way to get anyone’s attention, and find the spot they want you to wait in, is to first, wait in the wrong spot.

After more waiting and ignoring, the same questions are repeated, and the same papers are inspected.

Wait some more until eventually they tell you to go ahead.

Today I had an especially enjoyable exchange with the first U.S. officer, who’s command of the english language was marginal at best.

Officer: Registration and ID please sir.

Me: Ok, here they are.

Officer: This is a copy of the registration, I need to see the original

Me: I don’t have the original.

Officer: Sir, I need to see the original registration.

Me: I don’t have the original, we keep that in a safe in the office.

Officer: Sir, you’re not understanding me, I need to see the original registration.

Me: OK, but I don’t have the original. We keep that in a safe at the office. The DMV (not said aloud,’a part of the US government) says you don’t need to carry the original, a copy is fine. It says that right here on our copy of the original.

Officer: Sir, I don’t think you’re hearing me. I need to see the original

Me: I hear what you’re saying, “I want to see the original”. What I am saying is, “I DON’T HAVE THE ORIGINAL, the U.S. government says I’m not required to carry the original. I have a copy”.

Officer: I don’t think you understand, do you. “I..NEED…TO…SEE…THE…ORIGINAL” (insert charade like sign language)

At this point I said once again that I don’t have it and just looked away. He shook his head and said “Ok, you need to go to secondary”.

I enter secondary, pause to look for further direction and get yelled at for not waiting in the correct space, which is incidentally, never the same place.

He looks at my passport and registrations and tells me to go ahead and have a nice day.

I feel safe and protected, knowing that our borders are secured with such attention to detail.

I saw this last weekend while I was in Hollywood. After coming to a complete stop for several minutes, I decided to move ahead anyway.

Here I go into the world of blogging. I am far from a pioneer or innovator in this realm. I read several blogs on a regular basis and love that I can keep up with what the Jones’ are doing, or more accurately the JJ’s, Wendy’s, and Katie’s in my life. These are among my favorite blogs to read, they are creative, full of wit, sarcasm, and beautiful pictures, accurately portraying their authors. They set the bar high for me if I am to follow in their footsteps. I’ve put off starting this because one of my biggest frustrations with reading the blogs of others is when they aren’t updated regularly. It’s like reading a good book or watching a great TV show that goes on hiatus right in the middle of the good part. I’m horrible about keeping up on my newsletters to my supporters, they are notorious inconsistent and only relay small nuggets of all the good things that happen to me in the long the spells between the time I get around to writing them. I hope to be better about blogging. That way I won’t heap piles of self loathing upon myself. I hope to keep you involved in my life while we are separated or even if you’re next door and we’re too busy to sit down for a heart to heart. I’ll open up and share my life with you through a blog, because sometimes you can’t see the forrest for the trees.