The West Commences

It's 8:30 Sunday morning. I've just washed my smalls in the stone sinks on the roof of Patty and Paco's house and hung them to dry in the sun that is already hot. From this delightful laundry room you see Guanajuato spread out at the base of the dry, surrounding hills as if a child had dumped a big box of brightly coloured blocks on the floor and just left them there. I was reminded of how much I loved the time I spent doing the laundry or whatever on the roof of the house Jim and I rented the second time we were in Puerto Vallarta. I never ceased to be thrilled by the view from there of the Pacific and the Sierra Madres. I don't know what the views are like from the family's bedrooms on the second floor here, but from my windows I look either on the laundry and a white wall. Like most of the houses in Mexico, this one is built of thick block or stone and plaster walls with small windows to keep out the heat of the sun. At the moment I'm waiting for Rolando, the man who runs the school I'm at. We had planned to go for a walk to the Presa de la Olla on Friday afternoon but he phoned to postpone until Sunday at 9:00am. He was going to have breakfast with the family and then we would go for our walk, but he phoned at 8:45 to say he couldn't come until 11:00. Now it's 11:20 and he still hasn't arrived. I think this is normal for a Mexican because Patty and Paco don't seem to be the least bit concerned but I'm laughing a bit to myself to think that he might be doing this so as not to be outdone by a Canadian who missed her plane and required two trips to Leon before she arrived about seven hours late.

I think I'm making progress in Spanish because I compose wonderful stories in my head as I walk alone for hours around the town, but when I'm actually talking to someone I can only use simple sentences. It makes me realize how much I digress when I'm talking in English. When I take off on a story in Spanish, I quickly run out of vocabulary or find that I've talked myself into a maze of conjugations that are far beyond me. I'm learning more about myself than I am Spanish. But maybe that's fine because I will leave Mexico in a few weeks but I have to live with myself.

Rolando arrived around 11:30. From what I understood of his animated conversation with Patty and Paco, he was caught up in emails and phone calls concerning a personality conflict in another school where he also teaches.

I drove with him for the first time through the tunnels of Guanajuato. They have been built quite recently to accomodate traffic as the city has grown and the old section cannot be altered. I think from what I read yesterday in the excellent Museo La Alhóndiga de Granaditas that many of the tunnels follow sections of the old river bed. The river was diverted in 1905 after a flood that destroyed parts of the old city. The flood followed a huge storm and the breaking of the dam that we visited today. We picked up two new students from Australia, a young couple, and walked back through the city, beyond my house, through an area I had never seen before to the Presa de la Olla, the repaired dam and reservoir for the city of Guanajuato. It's a quiet neighborhood, with many beautiful nineteenth century homes that used to be country places for the rich but are now part of the city. It was a good day for a walk, warm with a pleasant mix of sun and cloud and a slight breeze. The rains of the past have brought out the flowers on the jacarandas and bouganvillas. The fact that I spoke Spanish better than the two new students also lightened my spirits.

It's back to classes tomorrow. Barb and I have made plans for our Easter vacation. We meet in Morelia next Saturday.