Cuernavaca Daze - some initial thoughts

We've been in Mexico for less than 48 hours. Loads of good things to report on our setting - we're in a lovely villa in Cuernavaca, Maya's doing her best to counteract the recent anti-Mexican sentiments offered by certain GOP dooshbags by being as charming as a suitcase full of stowaway kittens, the weather's hot but nowhere near Dallas in the Summer hot, none of us has gotten the runs...yet. Most importanly, everyone we've dealt with thus far has been mucho coolo. For those of you keeping score at home, the following are just a few of our experiences thus far.

Since we're going to be here for only a month, we thought it best to pack up most of our life's possessions in 3 suitcases and an array of carry-ons to bring with us. According to the baggage check-in scales, that meant around 250 pounds. Plus our gate-checked jogging stroller. And Maya. Fortunately, we had a driver meet us at the airport in Mexico City. I can't speak Spanish. But when I saw his reaction to our luggage, I could translate immediately what he'd said ("holy crapola!"). He'd shown up in a teeny VW hatchback that weighed about as much as us and our luggage. But we spoke the shared language of "let's do this". So we strapped that puppy down, tied Maya to the roof and hit the highway. Or rather, the choking, polluted, very-LA-ish traffic gridlock of Mexico City. We made it to Cuernavaca in about 2 hours, just about the time Maya began to melt down like an infant Three Mile Island. She then hit the ground running in our villa. And hasn't really stopped since.

On our first full day (yesterday), we went up to Tepotzlan with some people Sarah will be both directly and indirectly working with. Tepotzlan - a smallish town close-by with ancient roots and a top-notch open air market - is what cultural elitists might call "authentically Mexican". In the best way. Great food vendors offer an array of craziness that would probably make a pasty Scandanavian like me crap Technicolor for a week, amazing artisan offerings are everywhere, and wholly cool people watching dominates every frame. Whether it's a good thing or not, Maya's pretty much fearless in crowds and wanted to walk on her own as much as possible. We didn't make the trek up to the famous mountaintop temple visible from town. From a distance, it looks like one of the World War II-era coastal bunkers you can see on Martha's Vineyard or along the California coastline. Not exactly big or regal. Important, nonetheless, apparently. We plan to head back for the whole Tepotzlan enchilada, so to speak, sometime this month.

Maybe more than most people, I'm paralyzed by being unable to speak the language here. If you're unacquainted with my shtick, I'm someone who's largely verbal (about 71%), and being unable to communicate makes me just a tad shy of an angry mute. But that in no way means that I'm avoiding getting out in the mix, for better or worse. Such as this morning when Sarah went in to her gig at the Institute and I threw Maya in the jogging stroller for an hour-and-a-half bouncing along the narrow, broken cobblestone pseudo-sidewalks that line the majorish drag nearby. We headed toward downtown. People looked incredulously at our beloved BOB stroller like I was driving around a chair made of human heads. To her infinite credit, Maya went with the flow while I sweated and struggled over the often foot-deep breaks in the walkway. Somehow amidst all the diesel exhaust and magnitude 7.0+ jostling, she fell asleep. As far as kids go, she's top shelf.

Since we've got a full kitchen and the time to be somewhat normalish about what we're cooking here (we've even got a Weber kettle grill for beer-can chickens and their ilk), we've stocked our kitchen already. Our source? Mudder-effin WALMART. It's the closest supermarket with by far the widest array of offerings. I'm totally planning to find a bilingual beef tongue and entrails supplier working out of a 1984 Ford Aerostar very soon. But for the time being, most of our Mexican expenditures appear to be headed back to Arkansas. Go figure.

We got Maya into the pool for the first time earlier this afternoon during Sarah's unexpected siesta from work. Currently, Maya's stomping on ants and doing laps around our veranda. Or patio. Or brick-lined bug traffic grid. Whatever they call it here. Regardless, kids adjust so well I don't know why we haven't enlisted a bunch of them to add some real operational balls to Dubya's "Mission to Mars" plan. Maya's not ready to be an astronaut right now. Or at least we're not ready for her to be. But she sure is an explorer.

Just a note for readers that may be looking for more "newsy" debates over the next month - consider me offline. Not in the "out of the loop" sense, given our internet connectivity here and my obsessive desire to see what's being reported back in the States. But with all the exploring I hope to get in and all the writing I need to focus on, please expect that and the Family Buick will be a Maya and travelogue zone solely for the next month. Plus expect loads of pics from our new camera - the THIRD in less than three years. Dont' get me started on that frustratingly repeated expenditure. But I think this Nikon's a winner. Hope your own missions are clearly focused today. Rock on.