The Simple Life

He’s eighty seven years old, and still lives on his own in the ranchito. A little house, as rustic as can be, in the middle of the desert in a small pueblo called San Pedro, just outside Hermosillo. Surrounded by Aloe and Pitaya cactus plants, the beautiful breeze carried along sand in the air, just as you would see in an old western movie.

We were invited to his place by one of our good friends, a devoted son who makes the effort to visit his father every weekend to make sure he’s ok and living well. We packed up our clan and made our way over, with a quick stop to the nearest OXXO to buy him a bottle of Tequila, as a token of our appreciation. As we pulled up to the ranch, we were greeted by a rusted gate that was hard to open and soaring palm trees surrounding it. As old and worn down as it looked, it felt quaint, peaceful and hidden from all the ruckus of the city.



There were plenty of people there, all family, sitting on chairs that looked about a hundred years old, laughing and talking and enjoying a beautiful Sunday afternoon.
And then there he was, the grand old man who was the center of all the action and the reason for these Sunday gatherings. He was sitting on his chair, legs crossed. A cigarette in one hand and a glass of Tequila in the other, his face was more wrinkled than I could ever count and his facial hair was as gray as they come.

He smiled at us and with a warm welcome, offered cerveza and invited us to try some of the food that was on the table. There was a large bowl with rice and next to it was the smoked fish. The flies were feasting on the table and bugs were all over the place, the dust was visually blowing in the air, but it still felt great to be there, and somehow, I didn’t mind any of it.

We were having a fantastic time. And so was Cristian, of course. How could he not when there was a horse just a few feet away from him? The man had a horse that was over twenty years old. Oddly enough, he too looked old and tired - yet happy, just like his proud owner…living on the ranch.


Kids were running around and paying such special attention to Cristian. The boys were all about 10 years old and were pleased to have Cristian with them. They played with the ball, pushed him around in a beaten up plastic car and ate ice cream off a truck that I would never even consider purchasing from, if it were in the city.


Mia was also happy. She was sitting in her chair and taking in everything that was going on around her. The sound of laughter. The warm breeze on her skin. The sun’s rays shining to the ground through the branches of the giant trees surrounding us. It was special.

After several hours, we decided it was time to leave. We packed up the car and off we went. Our drive home was as serene and as peaceful as our day at the ranchito.

It just goes to show...all the money in the world can’t buy the uncomplicated pleasures of living a simple life…

Thou Shall Not Make Fun

Ok. So I was at my Sumba class this morning ready to bust a move and lose the remaining 5 lbs left from my pregnancy. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done, not only is it the greatest cardio workout, but it’s also tons of fun – exercising to reggaeton - it can’t get any better than that!

The music started and the dancing begun. There were tons of women in the class, so space seemed a little tight. As we began to wave our hands in the air left to right, I tried to be considerate of the people around me and to make sure I didn’t swat anyone in the head.

So…we’re dancing….'izquierda, derecha, baile baile…..'

Just then, I could’ve sworn I felt a tap on my right hand from the lady next to me. So, I breathlessly turned my head to say excuse me and move over. That’s when it happened – that’s when I finally noticed - the lady had NO ARM.

I was mortified. Not because I was exercising next to an amputee, but because I was SURE I felt someone’s had tap mine. In any case, I needed a drink…..so, feeling a bit light headed, and taken aback, I leaned over to grab my water - and sure enough, my bottle was sitting RIGHT NEXT to a PLASTIC ARM.



I came home and was telling Asuzena my story. I couldn’t help but laugh about my weird experience. Yes FOLKS I know - How could I laugh? But c’mon, it was funny. Anyways, as I was telling her what happened, and admitting to HOW BAD IT WAS THAT I WAS LAUGHING, we LOST POWER in the house, no electricity, I KID YOU NOT! I guess the big guy upstairs tried to teach me a lesson?

I was robbed of electricity...it was ARMED robbery!
I’m dying...LAUGHING...

(I’m so gonna get struck by lightening tonight, I swear)

Where Is My Kansas Toto?

It's been a while. I know.
I have nothing but great things to say about my new life as a mother of TWO. I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights thinking about my insta-family. Three years in Mexico has brought me two beautiful babies and a new appreciation for life. Up until now, I relished the idea of some day returning home - back to the Tdot. Having two kids away from everyone has been challenging, at times I feel overwhelmed, too overwhelmed to put into words. I always use the excuse of being away from ‘home’ for feeling the way I’ve been.

‘You can never go back, only forward’, holds true especially once you’ve been removed from an area for any period of time.

After I spent five weeks in Toronto this summer, I realized many things, and some things that I’m still trying to figure out for myself. I keep complaining of missing 'home' and needing to be around my 'family', when in reality, my family is right here with me everyday, and home to my two Mexican born children, is right here where they belong!

Exceptional weather year round, rows of beautiful palm trees everywhere, friendly faces on the streets, and an endless ocean less than an hour away…why would anyone want to give this up?

As far as my kids know, Hermosillo IS there home. So, when I complain about wanting to be back in Toronto, I guess I need to figure out if being back in Toronto is really what we want…moving forward…from this point on…

Is it the comfort of my own house that I miss when I’m visiting Canada? Or is it the tranquility of Mexico that has me so confused?

WHO KNOWS?

I need to see a therapist.

Maybe it’s a post-partum thing I’m going through, after all, how can I choose to live somewhere with no highways and shopping malls?

(Very easily!)

Holy What?

Cristian’s totally talking now. I’m so proud of my little man, especially for his keen ability to use words and expressions to demonstrate his excitement and thrill.

Here’s an example:

Cristian sitting at the table asking for mazoon (yogurt in Armenian).
I hand him his mazoon and walk away for the spoon. In the meantime, Cristian is playing with the yogurt – trying to be a big boy, and open it himself – without my help. After a few seconds, his pudgy little hands finally rip open the top of the carton, at which point my adorable little son squeals the following words...“Holy SHIT!” with absolute joy!

Yep, he sure was proud of himself!
As was I. At least he used the words within proper context!