Friday, December 5, 2008

Una rosa por otro nombre. . .

Moving plans have finally been cemented, and I have a one-way ticket with my name on it. I'm really, truly moving to Mexico. Soon.

Though the nation has progressed in numerous ways in the last several decades, Mexican mail service is still notoriously third-world. So, we've got a P.O. Box just on the other side of the border. It's small place; a few bars, gas stations, last-chance-Mexican-auto-insurance offices, a trailer park, and the post office. Both and the maps I've seen refer to the town as "Lukeville", but when we stopped there on our way through over Thanksgiving, the sign on the post office wall said "Gringo Crossing". I noticed that several other signs in town had the same name. I asked my husband about it, and he didn't have any illuminating information on the subject. Oh, where is the fount of Arizona history minutia when you need one?

Maybe "Gringo Crossing" is an older name? I can understand why you'd change it; it sounds like something out of a lame western, and "gringo" isn't exactly a compliment. It's an ugly name, but intriguing in its overt tackiness. Part of me is tempted to give out my new mailing address as Gringo Crossing, precisely because it's so awful. I assume the mail will still get there, since we rely on the ZIP code more than anything else. Yes, tempting.

Lola is NOT a gringo, no matter where she crosses the border.

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

La vida nueva

I spent the fall break with my husband in our shiny new Mexican home, and exploring the most beautiful beach I've ever experienced. I arrived late Friday night, in the dark, and promptly fell asleep. I woke up on Saturday tangled in the sheets on our huge king-sized bed with the filtered morning sun coming in on me, and indulged in leftover sparkling juice and chocolate truffles from the night before. When my husband got home from the office (he works half days a few Saturdays a month) we went to the playa and I played in the clearest, softest little waves in the world (that's subjective). My husband turned to me and said, "Well, welcome to your new life!"

And so it is. I don't have a job and I have no present plans to even apply for a work visa, so I'll be spending my unemployed days writing, researching, and playing in the Sea of Cortez. Life is rough, wandering the tide pools at dusk.

Lola feels justified in taking a break.