Ugly Americans

 Time is a constant you grow acutely aware of as the years go by.   Its passage feels more pronounced the longer you are out as an expat, or (for those who move away from their hometowns to later return) when you return  home . It has been busy these last three months. I have been quieter more than I wanted to be, because of the relentless pace our life has taken since returning to Florida.   As is our tradition, we had a welcome back/return party about a month after arrival. We invited everyone, and we had more people show than we expected. I don't know if it was because we are not staying 'just a month', like we would for home leave... if it was because of the current political climate, or if time had a hand in prompting people to show up. So it was with our party. There were a ton of people there, that I had not seen in some time. It was the best hail to post I think we have ever had in our FSLife.   I have been sending out actual, real, honest-to-goodness res

I know it's hard. It's hard to like the difficult ones. Their minds and eyes wander from the page. Accidentally, of course. Like glitter slime in a colander their minds avoid capture by escaping through the holes. A picture on the wall. The actions of another child. Anything. Anything except the words on the page. The number problems hidden in sentences. Se quenc ing Their day is a rebellious day. Red like a warning light. red Red RED Sometimes yellow. Rarely green. I know it's easy. It's effortless to like the easy ones. The ones that can focus. Like lasers. Minds and eyes remain on the page. Little to no back talking to be found. Instructions almost always followed. They are on point. It is easier to laugh when they make a mistake. Smiles are more plentiful, as are chances. Their day is a green day. Green like a summer day. green Green GREEN Sometimes yellow. Rarely red. I know. I know

  Months ago, when my kids were still going to Spanish class here, I ran into another expat mom. She was a new arrival to the area, having recently moved to Mérida. While the kids were in class, we chatted about a life traveling with kids, finding your people in your new home, and making a life for yourself amidst all of it. In the course of our chat she told me the story about how she found out her family would be moving to Mérida.   Apparently, they had lived in the same place for seven years, and she'd left a picture from their initial move wrapped all that time. In her mind, as long as that last picture never got unwrapped and hung, they would never leave. For seven years, that picture stayed wrapped up, and tucked in its corner.   So, imagine her shock at seeing it on the wall after a handyman she'd hired to fix something else in the house, completed the task he was hired for then  also unwrapped the picture and hung it up. That same night, her husband came h

We are leaving Mérida. I am going to miss Mérida.   I know that statement seems at odds with my previous writings, but I will miss the city and its people. After almost a year here, my Spanish (which had withered from years of neglect) has improved dramatically. I have made acquaintances (both expat and locals) that could have probably become full-fledged friends had we stayed here the full three years. One of them might still become a long-term friend, but we'll see. You come to accept that friendships made in this life are what you put into them. Sometimes, this ends up being a one-way street despite your best intentions.   My plan of visiting as many archaeological sites in the region is pretty much at its end. I would like to visit at least one more site, but realistically I probably won't. We've just run out of time. It turns out that you can only squeeze so many sites in between work, school, people getting sick, poor weather, and any other roadblock life throws

  In the hills an hour south of Merida, past the edge of the  Chicxulub crater , sits Uxmal.  Uxmal was a Mayan trade center from the Late to Terminal Classic period with about 20k residents at its height. It is an excellent example of the Puuc architectural style, and the pinnacle of late Mayan art. As it grew from a small town to a major center in the region,  sacbe  were built, radiating out to nearby settlements (the sacbe linking Uxmal to Kabah is still standing) and other large sites like Chichén Itzá. Even after it was abandoned, it was still visited as a pilgrimage site until the Spanish conquest in the 1400s. Due to its location in the hills, it remained well-preserved. It officially became a  UNESCO World Heritage site in 1996. The site has a number of well-preserved buildings and carvings, even before its restoration. If you visit, the first building you'll see after climbing up the steps is the Pyramid of the Magician (the first picture at the top of the post

  There were massive tropical storms. The children, reared in lands where rainstorms are subdued things, were amazed. They didn't know when the car arrived, that they would be flying away. Like little lightning rods catching the charge of familial anxiety, they wavered between anxiousness and calm.  I didn't understand it before, but I do now- the need to leave post, if only for a little while. The change was a welcome reprieve, but we're back at post again. Just in time for more rain. We also came home to a green pool that clearly had not been cleaned in the two weeks we were gone. Needless to say, I am now working to arrange for a company to come by and regularly maintain the pool. Such is life in the Yucatan.   School number two is in our rear view mirror now, after a miserable slog to close out the month. I don't think anyone will miss it. I know I won't miss it. The emails keep coming though, asking when we'll re-enroll our children, or emai

The Mayapan ruins   Forty five minutes south of Merida, off of I-184 is the archaeological site of Mayapan. It is an easy site to visit, as the ground is pretty level and clear of debris. Like previous sites we've visited, there are more uncovered areas on the perimeter of the cleared and restored area. The big draw of the site is its main pyramid, the Temple of Kukulcan. The temple, and the other structures found at this site are generally considered inferior to those found at Chichen Itza. But, unlike Chichen Itza, this place has fewer crowds. So if you get there early (like we did), you will have the site to yourself.    Even if you show up later and a bus shows up (as one did near the end of our visit) it's not a real crisis. People will beeline to the main pyramid (pictured at the top of this post), so your view of carvings and the mural at the site will likely go unmolested as other tourists scramble to clamber up pyramids in order to get selfies or group shot

Pool (maintenance) season.  Last weekend was Easter, but here in the Yucatan, we are solidly in summertime temperatures. The kids have a two-week break from school, so the house is in a greater state of disarray as the children revert to their natural feral state . The kids, after an amazing tryout day/visit at one of the local montessori schools will be switching schools, again . Hopefully for the last time. The catch is, they start at the beginning of the new school year, and not sooner. So until then we wait, and the children stick it out the last two months before summer break. Everyone has been sick, which has put a hold on our pyramid-visiting plans. This is extra depressing because we now have our official license plates (bye bye paper tag!).   For those of you who are reading this, and don't know why this is so exciting, let me explain. When you finally get your car at post, you have to wait to drive it until you have it plated. Usually, this happens pretty fast.

  Last weekend we visited the Oxkintok ruins, an archaeological zone near the town of Maxcanu which is a little more than an hour away from Merida. It is a less-visited site for a few reasons; it's in the hills, the site is not completely uncovered, and the two roads most frequently used to get there (after you exit the highway) each have their own problems. If you take the route we did (the clearly marked exit), you will be travelling on a winding, increasingly sketchy road up a hill that turns into gravel/rock for the last part leading to the site. The other route has you take a poorly marked exit off the highway, but is more direct, and maintained.   No matter what road you take, you will be rewarded with a site that is massive (even though it is not completely uncovered) and devoid of tour groups. This site has a number of pyramids to climb, and carved sculptural column figures. It is very apparent from the site that it really has not been completely unearthed. Beyond

  Dzibichaltún is a tiny site, about 15 minutes from Merida. The two things people go there for are the small pyramid, and the friendly-for-everybody cenote on-site. There is also the ruin of a church from the sites second life as a colonial ranch (and you do have people visiting for that), but the bigger draws are the step pyramid and cenote. There are also many iguanas all over the place, and a gift shop/convenience store/tchotchke zone near the front entrance.   The day we went was a sunny, clear day. We left early to visit the ruins- mostly because you want to go early (anywhere) to avoid crowds in the Yucatan. We got to the site at about 9 in the morning, but there were already tour groups at the site. This is not surprising, because the site is also close to Progresso, where cruise ships berth when visiting this area of the Yucatan.   It's an easy site to walk, even with kids. You can climb on most of the ruins, save for the section with the actual intact pyra

I write in the book every day. "I'm sorry that you write and you are always asking how your daughter is and I don't respond." I am listening to the words, nodding because this is how the transaction is supposed to go. "Your daughter." "Your daughter ran around the classroom." "Your daughter did not want to do her work." "Your daughter started taking down the display I had on my board." "Your daughter ran from me, around the room." "Your daughter climbed up onto the table and hit another child in the face." "It was an accident, and she apologized, and she felt bad, but she hit her." "I know she doesn't understand Spanish, but she needs to respect me." I nod, and listen as she continues to tell me how my child has failed, again, today. That's my job today, as the cars of other parents waiting for their children in the pick up line wait behind me. As my children wait so