The Next Big Adventure

After leaving our apartment in West Philly about 10 months ago, spending 3 months on our bikes and then moving to Mexico City in late August, it’s been quite a journey. Some great moments mixed with some really crappy ones have made for a lot of learning and reflection on what we want (and don’t want) out of life.

We moved to a new apartment in January and Heidi’s long, frustrating job search seems to be coming to a successful end. She is starting work at Transformacion Urbana, an organization that works in poor communities on the outskirts of Mexico City. They focus on preventative health, specifically for women and children, among other things. It’s a long commute and the details are still getting worked out, but it seems like a great fit for her skills and passions.

So after a long adjustment period, we’re finally finding a groove that can work for us….until August, when if things go as planned Heidi gives birth to a baby!

We’re quite sure that our past adventures will pale in comparison to this one (I mean, we slept like 9-10 hours a night on our bike trip…). We’re really excited, though it’s hard to prepare for such a dramatic life change.

We found two wonderful midwives, both named Guadalupe, who have many years of experience assisting home births in Mexico City, which is our preference considering the high C-section rate here. We are surprised and relieved to find ourselves in such good hands.

It’s hard to foresee the challenges we will face with an infant, and later toddler, in Mexico City. We are growing to love this city, but it still tests our patience and good spirits on a daily basis. Going anywhere requires navigating the obstacle course created by hoards of people that will walk right into you if you don´t move, street markets, sidewalk markets, 5 foot holes, dog poop and unfathomable amounts of traffic. Amongst the madness, however, we are meeting some very kind people, enjoying our favorite fruits year round (mangos, pineapple, guava, avocado, mandarins, strawberries), basking in the warm sunny weather, eating delicious and incredibly cheap street food, slowing improving our Spanish, and exploring the endless activities and events that this city has to offer.

One thing is for sure: our child will have a unique introduction to the world.

Moving up

The view from the roof of our new apartment.

We spent the first five months in Mexico living in the apartment of a previous MCC family on Calle Tokio. We brought four large suitcases of our own things and a few carry-ons, but otherwise our house was furnished by what was left for us.

It was a fine place, but with drawbacks. The tiny hot water heater was mounted outside our kitchen window, and constantly turned off and had to be gently coaxed to keep the pilot light on long enough to heat a few gallons of water for a stressful shower. The first night, our wonderful Colombian neighbors came to help us get it lit, but despite Carlos’ determination and 45 minutes of trying, the thing wouldn’t stay lit. We at least made friends with them in the meantime.

The previous family had two children, so the apartment was larger than we were used to. There was the second sofa we never sat on, the second bathroom we almost forgot about and the second bedroom we almost never used.

All of the floors in the dining room, living room and bedrooms were covered in a dreadful, dark green carpet. It was so dark that basically any speck—lint, crumbs, dirt, hair, whatever—stood out. We had a Shop Vac without an agitator, so I had to provide the agitation by vigorously rubbing the nozzle back and forth. By the end of the task, I’d get quite warm.

But overall it was fine. The front bedroom, which we used as a living room, got brilliant sun in the morning and the kitchen was larger than most apartment kitchens. We eventually moved some furniture around and decorated the walls, which made it feel more like our own place. And hell, we’re MCC volunteers, what did we expect, to sublet a Carlos Slim penthouse?

The apartment building was for sale, so once the lease ended at the beginning of November, we continued on a month-to-month basis.  At first we were determined to move into a more permanent situation as soon as we could. But after exhausting ourselves contacting dozens of realtors and owners, and only seeing a few not-workable apartments, we decided to stay put, at least for a bit.

The day before New Years Eve, however, I found a few nice apartments online in our price range, and we contacted them. One got back to us quickly (which is extraordinarily rare…), answered our questions affirmatively and told us we could see it whenever. We went that afternoon and loved it. Over the next week, we worked with our MCC Reps and the landlord, and eventually signed the contract.

It’s a compact fourth-floor apartment in a new building. Our bedroom really is just a bed-room—there isn’t space for anything else. It’s definitely the smallest of the four apartments we’ve lived in together.

But it’s wonderful. There are massive windows in every room and nice laminate wood floors (we ditched the Shop Vac). We have our own balcony and a shared roof terrace with a panoramic view of the mountains that surround Mexico City. We have a parking space in the garage area that gives our bicycles the respect and dignity they deserve.

We hired a moving company, since our fathers are too far away to come with their station wagon or trailer. On the moving day, the movers showed up over an hour late, and in the meantime (with the help of our great friend/coworker Clemetine) we moved a lot of the stuff down to the driveway for them. When they arrived, two of the four men appeared to be in their 60s or 70s, and the older one had a limp.

They came up to our apartment, surveyed the remaining furniture, then went back down to the driveway empty-handed to begin loading the small boxes we had already carried down. We started getting nervous that they didn’t know what they were doing, so we gently suggested that maybe they should start loading the big stuff first. I didn’t completely understand the man’s quick, accented Spanish, but he effectively said “We got it under control,” I think.

I looked down and saw the oldest man carrying three large boxes labeled Fragil! stacked on his back and held in place with a strap he held over his shoulders. I was in fear and awe, but he didn’t drop them.

I noticed at that point that the movers never used wheels (except for the truck, of course). Our apartment was situated by the street, but to get down to the street, you had to walk about 25 meters along a balcony towards the back of the building, down some steps, then 30 meters back to the front, where their truck was parked. To me, it would have been a prime situation for a hand truck, but they thought otherwise.

Two men carried our stove by looping two large straps under the stove and then over each of their shoulders. They used their hands only to stabilize the stove, but carried its weight entirely with their shoulders and legs. It was impressive.

When it was finally time to move the large furniture, instead of carrying it all that way, they went out to our tiny, street-facing balcony and lowered it. The two older men we had originally questioned were the ones up top, strapping up the dresser, mattresses, desk, and lowering them carefully down to the younger workers.

Once it was all loaded up, they drove to our new apartment on Lago Winnipeg in Tacuba, and we met them with a taxi. They efficiently used the elevator and stairs to get our stuff up to our forth floor apartment. It seemed that just about everything was in the apartment except for our queen sized bed frame.

Finally the two men up in our apartment started unwrapping huge straps, and lowered them 5 stories over our balcony down to the basement parking area. When I realized what was happening, I tried to find our camera among tons of unlabeled boxes.

By the time I got back to the balcony with my camera ready, the two older men were already lifting our box spring over the balcony’s rail. I asked them jokingly if they could do it again now that I have the camera out. They smiled and declined.

After doubting the abilities of our moving company a few hours earlier, we were thoroughly humbled and grateful.

Now after a week without gas, three weeks without internet and many apartment-scale house projects later, we have a cozy little apartment to call home. You’re all cordially invited to come stay with us (just one at a time, please).

Oh the weather outside’s delightful

Our poinsettia, happy to be enjoying the December Mexican sun.

This year will be the first year Heidi and I spend Christmas away from family and chilly weather.

Christmas decorations here in Mexico City are very much the same (except for piñatas, of course). There are Christmas lights, some tasteful, some tacky. Poinsettias grow here year round, but are sold heavily in the weeks leading up to Christmas. We see occasional inflatable Santas and snowmen. Stores play Christmas music. There is an ice-skating rink in the park a few blocks away form us. All around the city, cars and taxis are hauling Christmas trees home, which at first we thought were imported, until we hiked a volcano within the city limits last week and saw a Christmas tree farm.

Now that we are in the dry season, the weather is lovely. The mornings can be a bit brisk, but every day gets into the mid-70s by the afternoon. Checking weather reports has lost its value when there is basically zero chance it will be hot, cold or rainy.

But it’s hard to believe that we’re actually approaching Christmas when it’s still so warm. I don’t think I fully appreciated how deeply ingrained weather changes are in my experience of the world. I can see the date on the calendar, and pictures of snowy Philadelphia on Facebook, but my brain isn’t buying it.

The handful of snowstorms in Philadelphia over the past few weeks, however, have made me nostalgic for winter, even if it’s completely irrational. I’ve had many deeply depressing winters in Philadelphia in my life where it’s just uselessly cold without precipitation, or it’s rainy and 33 degrees. I don’t miss gingerly walking for blocks on icy sidewalks or feeling icy wind blast through any opening in my clothing while biking.

It’s not that I necessarily want that, but more so that I feel like that’s how it should be. I never had the option to choose between spending December, January and February in 70 degrees instead of 38, so I feel like I’m cheating the laws of nature somehow.

Like everything in life, it’s a mixed bag. It’s wonderful being able to be outside in beautiful weather this time of year, but it’s also hard to be far away from family and friends. We are trying to embrace the new culture and environment where we are, but still holding on to the life we lived up to this point.

El Dia de Los Muertos

For Dia de Los Muertos, Chris and I had the opportunity to spend the day walking around UNAM’s campus (Mexico City’s largest university) observing the elaborate exhibits and enjoying the live performances. El Dia de Los Muertos (Nov. 1 for children and Nov. 2 for adults) is the most celebrated holiday in Mexico, it’s a day of mourning and celebration for loved ones that are no longer on earth, but nevertheless live on in the hearts and souls of family and friends.

As a norteamericana, its very easy to find this day uncomfortable. We don’t celebrate death in the U.S. and the topic is one to be avoided in conversation. However, in Mexico death doesn’t have the same stigma. People here see death as what it is, a natural stage of life that will happen to everyone one day. They don’t try to kid themselves into thinking it won’t happen to them or that avoiding it will make it go away. Instead, they celebrate it. Just as they want to be remembered when they see death one day, they do their best to honor and celebrate the lives of their loved ones that have passed on.

I find this day absolutely fascinating. Death is scary, yes. But it doesn’t always have to be. Instead, it can give us a reason to live life in the best possible way we know how. Acknowledging death means your perspective changes, suddenly life has more value. Goals and ambitions come to the forefront, and you think about being a better wife, husband, mom, dad, daughter, son, sister, brother, friend, co-worker. One life is what we get to enjoy, find happiness, seek meaning, do our part to make the world a better place and leave a legacy that will one day be celebrated by our loved ones once we, too, pass on.

Gracias a México por la inspiración.

Heidi

Desierto de los Leones

Since moving to Mexico City at the end of August, Heidi and I have been seriously missing wilderness. We found a few nice parks nearby that help us get a quick fix of green and fresher air, but given their location, it’s not surprising that they are usually packed out with people on any reasonably nice day. We love the city, the culture and the excitement here, but miss solitude in nature.

To be fair, our grievance was the opposite this summer when we spent two and a half months biking across the United States. We loved spending all day outside among mountains, forests, rivers and lakes, and then camping under the trees most nights, but we deeply longed for culture, vibrancy and interesting food –commodities in short supply in Middle America. I assume it’s a tension we’ll live with our whole lives.

Last weekend, we decided it was time to get out of the city to see the mountains that supposedly surround Mexico City. We looked up some options for taking public transportation, but that would require two metros, a long bus ride, a taxi, and then arrangements for that taxi to come back to pick us up after our hike.

Or, we could bike.

When you look at a map of Mexico City, it’s hard to properly appreciate the scale. I still see cities through a Philadelphia-sized lens, so I usually vastly underestimate how far away something is. Luckily, the part of the city where we spend all of our time is pancake flat (it used to be at the bottom of a lake), so we usually survive my underestimates.

Google Maps said Parque Nacional Desierto de los Leones is 23 km away, or about 14 miles. It seemed like a pretty doable distance, because our minds were still in bike trip shape, even if our bodies no longer were. We thought we could make it in a bit over an hour.

But what we didn’t realize was that it was all uphill. From our house at 7,200 feet, we gradually climbed to 10,000, and much of the way was through congested urban streets, with street markets, dirty buses and terrible drivers. Half way through, we were exhausted and seriously doubting whether we would make it to our destination.

As we got closer, the towns began to feel like rural Latin America, even though we were still technically in the city district. A few times we climbed a steep hill to what appeared to be a dead end, only to notice a tiny unpaved path that continued forward – I have no idea how Google Maps finds these places.

We finally got into the park after about three hours of riding and were overtaken by the crisp, coniferous air that could have been Canadian. We didn’t have any energy for the ambitious hike we planned, but we found a beautiful lookout point, where we sat in awe. It was the most beautiful place we’ve been since our bike trip ended in July.

We had used at least 80 percent of our energy to get there, but the way back was all downhill, so we survived. We hadn’t noticed on the way up, but on the way down, we could see all of Mexico City, sprawling throughout an incredible valley, with golden sun rays lighting up swaths and leaving others in the shadows. I had no idea it was so beautiful.

Standing on the streets in Mexico City, all you see is buildings, and the sprawl feels infinite. But looking down on it from above, we saw it glowing quietly in the sunlight, contained on all sides by massive mountains. It was still incredibly vast, but finite. Now that I can picture this city, our new home, in its physical context, it doesn’t seem quite as overwhelming.

25 minutes of CPR

I. From Heidi

30:2, 30:2, deep and fast right over the heart. This is what was going through my head the 25 minutes I was performing CPR for the first time in my life on a real person yesterday.

CPR is something I’ve had to renew every year for 3 years as an RN. However, its one of those things you think you will never need because there will always be someone more competent at the scene. That is, unless you are in the middle of a run in Viveros de Coyoacan and happen upon a collapsed middle-aged man not breathing, cold, with only the slightest pulse, as a frenzied group of a dozen people hover over him, some giving their best attempts at CPR.

The man had been down for 5 minutes. I asked if someone called an ambulance, they had. I asked if there was a defibrillator, there wasn’t. I told them to give deeper compressions; they said, “Tu eres enfermera, va!” (You’re the nurse, go ahead).  From then on, I gave most of the compressions, stopping during most breaths to show them they have to tilt his head up so the oxygen can actually get to his lungs.

But I wasn’t prepared for the chaos and utter incompetence of the police and emergency system in el DF, especially a well-off, civilized area like this region of Coyoacan.

When I first arrived, someone came over with a bag of sugar and attempted to pour it into the man’s mouth. I strongly objected, completely baffled that they were really going to pour sugar into the mouth of a man not breathing.. I continued with compressions and asked again, “una ambulancia esta en ruta?” (an ambulance is coming?).  Si, si. I found out later that a police guard approached us in the middle of CPR holding something wrapped in a towel, which many thought to be an AED or something related to CPR. But no, it was a bottle of liquor. People scoffed, and he left.

Finally, when the EMTs showed up (almost 30 minutes later) I breathed a sigh of relief, only to find out that their course of action was putting a pulseox on his finger (a device to measure pulse and oxygen), taking his blood pressure and placing cords on his chest (not to defibrillate him, which is what he needed more than anything) but to measure his heart rhythm. The results were everything we knew already, except now with precious minutes lost of breaths and chest compressions. Unbelievable. When I realized they were not actually going to deliver a shock, we proceeded to give chest compressions while the EMTs (or whatever they were) appeared to do nothing. He was then laid on a stretcher and taken out of the forest to a hospital.

I was absolutely not prepared for this. But the thing is, you never know when an emergency will take place, so I had to put aside my unpreparedness and language barrier and do what I knew to keep this man alive. Apparently adrenaline kicked in, because many details have left my memory (Chris helped fill in some gaps). However, I certainly cannot forget the eerie coldness of this man’s skin, the cracking of his ribs under my force, and the extreme anger I felt towards the incompetent emergency personnel.

My prayers are with that man and his family. Peace to you.

II. From Chris

Heidi and I finished a lap around Viveros de Coyoacan, a beautiful forested park in the middle of Mexico City, and decided to start another. Just as we passed the entrance, we saw a crowd blocking the path, and noticed they were surrounding a middle-aged man lying motionless on the ground. Some runners had already started CPR, but the man was unresponsive.

Heidi immediately rushed towards the man while I stayed a few meters away. She explained how to properly do chest compressions and helped open the man’s airways while somebody else gave him breaths. Eventually she took over the chest compressions, forcefully pushing into the man’s chest while somebody counted to thirty in Spanish. I have never seen CPR performed on a real person, and was shocked by how hard and deep the compressions go.

The minutes ticked by, but no ambulance arrived. Heidi and the others continued with CPR, while two other people held the man’s legs vertical to keep blood in his vital organs. Heidi somehow directed a whole team of untrained volunteers in Spanish, which was a sight to see.

Heidi and the other volunteers ended up doing CPR on the man for 25 minutes before the ambulance arrived, just barely keeping the man alive. I later mentioned to Heidi how long it was, and she couldn’t believe it. Apparently, adrenaline makes time irrelevant.

When the EMTs showed up, people gave them space as they took the man’s shirt off and applied electrodes to his chest. When a minute passed and nothing happened, Heidi asked them why they didn’t apply the shock. It turns out, they didn’t have an AED. They were simply checking his heart rhythm and blood pressure, and surprise, confirmed that he had dangerously low blood pressure and had an irregular heart rate.

In other words, they stopped CPR on a man on the verge of dying for precious minutes, just to confirm what the least medically-trained spectator could have told them: the man’s heart wasn’t functioning properly. Eventually, they loaded him on a stretcher while volunteers continued chest compressions.

We all expected the EMTs to come and save the day, but when they left, people were astonished. It took almost a half an hour for an ambulance to come help a man suffering from cardiac arrest, and when they finally showed up they didn´t even bring a defibrillator. A woman standing next to me said the man would have been better off if we just called a taxi.

Afterwards, somebody found a pen and paper, and began gathering signatures and email addresses. Everybody at the scene who wasn’t a police officer or EMT seemed appalled at the lack of adequate response, so they began discussing plans to make sure this never happened again. People mentioned CPR training for the park guards, getting a defibrillator for the park (since thousands run there everyday), and streamlining emergency procedures.

It was a terrible event, but it strangely felt like sacred ground. These 15-20 strangers, who previously were anonymous runners, suddenly were thrust into this teetering moment between life and death, with a person none of us knew. Everybody forgot about their own lives for a moment and became fully invested in the saving the life of this stranger.

The man would have never made it alive to the hospital without Heidi’s direction and a few helpful volunteers. Using chest compressions and rescue breathing, they kept a man alive for almost 30 minutes with no medical technology. It was unbelievable.

When he was taken away, nobody knew whether to be relieved or angry, because we didn’t know if the man survived because of a few people’s efforts, or died in spite of them. One woman came up to Heidi afterwards to thank her, and said she planned to go to the hospital to check on the status of the man.

We still aren’t clear on the man’s condition, so this story currently has no ending. It’s either a beautiful story of strangers acting to save a man’s life, or a tragedy about the incompetence of the EMTs that basically left the man to die.

–As a side note: I (Heidi) would strongly encourage you to learn the basics of CPR if you haven’t already. CPR trainings are fairly short and relatively inexpensive and without fear of sounding cliché, it is a skill that can save someone’s life when least expected.

Independence from what?

I originally posted this blog post on the MCC Latin America and Caribbean Advocacy blog September 16.

Today marks the start of Mexico’s war for independence from Spain in 1810.  The center square (the Zocalo) is packed with spectators watching the Independence Day parade, as they celebrate Mexico´s national history.

In order to make room for these crowds, however, another crowd had to be removed: teachers. They had been occupying the Zocalo since mid-August to protest President Enrique Peña Nieto’s education reform policies. They have marched and occasionally blocked traffic in streets around the city, and maintained a tent city in the large, historic square.

On Saturday, some 3,600 police descended on the Zocalo with tear gas, riot gear, water canons and helicopters. Some protests lobbed rocks at the police. Thirty people were arrested and dozens wounded. The square was cleared within 30 minutes, but soon afterwards the demonstrators set up a new occupation a few kilometers away.

By Sunday night, the square was ready for the traditional Grito de Dolores, which ceremonially marks Mexico’s cry for independence.  The ceremony is a loose reenactment of the night in 1810 that Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a local priest, ran to the church and rang the bell to gather poor people to revolt against the oppressive Spanish government.

This year, President Peña Nieto performed the call:

¡Mexicanos!
¡Vivan los héroes que nos dieron patria!
¡Víva Hidalgo!
¡Viva Morelos!
¡Viva Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez!
¡Viva Allende!
¡Vivan Aldama y Matamoros!
¡Viva la independencia nacional!
¡Viva México! ¡Viva México! ¡Viva México!

It strikes me as ironic. Governments (including my own, in the United States) love to praise the revolutionaries of the past, who dared to question the ruling authority of the time, while simultaneously using tear gas on the people today who do the same thing.

This is not an endorsement of the teachers’ position. The education reforms that became law last week don’t look terrible on paper, but it’s hard to know their true implications.

Regardless of the specific issue at hand, however, it bothers me when governments celebrate historic, symbolic resistance without paying attention to the living people marching in the streets today.

Photo by Heriberto Paredes, Creative Commons License

BMX Cuerna Style

We’ve been studying Spanish in Cuernavaca for two weeks. Cuernavaca is a quaint city an hour and a half south of Mexico D.F. that’s nicknamed “The Land of Eternal Spring” because of its excellent climate.

Last Saturday, we walked down to the center square expecting to get coffee and hang out, but instead wandered into BMX Cuerna’ Style, an international BMX competition. We spent a few hours watching the practice session on Saturday, and then came back Sunday for the competition.

We were blown away. Grown men on small bicycles doing backflips, front-flips, 720s, triple tail whips, and pretty much anything else that you could imagine doing while floating 20 feet off the ground with a child-size bicycle. I was in awe that human beings could do such amazing things with their bodies.

Heidi and I snapped some photos of the day:

  

To Mexico

We’ve finally found ourselves home in a place far from home.

After a wonderful two-and-a half-month bike trip across the United States, we spent most of August with family and friends in Philadelphia. Now we’re settling into the largest metropolis in the Western Hemisphere, Mexico City, for three years.

The city is vibrant, friendly and absolutely non-stop. We’re only three weeks in, but we are yet to experience boredom. On our bike trip, we had to travel to find adventure—here it shows up at our doorstep.

We’re here working with Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), an international relief, development, and peace-building organization of the Mennonite church. I (Chris) am here to do context analysis and advocacy work for the Latin America and Caribbean region, and Heidi will be working in public health/nursing.

We plan to use this blog to share some of the fun, the challenges, and the randomness that comes with living in a huge foreign city, working for an NGO, learning Spanish, finding friends, and experiencing Mexican culture.

The Internet Age has many downsides, but when you living far from family and friends, global connectivity is pretty great.  We learned this on our bike trip. Stranded for 36 hours at a deserted state fairground in Huron, South Dakota, I blogged about the flatness, boredom, and perspective of eastern South Dakota. We received a handful of responses from friends and family back home.

We were still twiddling our thumbs in the middle of nowhere, but we no longer felt isolated from the living world.

When we got back to Philadelphia, because people read our blog, we hardly ever got the devastating question everybody usually asks when you come back from a terribly wonderful, draining yet thrilling, mundane but profound, life-shaping adventure: “So how was it?”

We tried to share meaningful reflections on life, and in return, people had all kinds of provoking, interesting thoughts and insights based on their own lives and experiences. It was a rich feedback loop that we hope to continue.

With that said, thanks for following our blog, and being our dear friends from a distance.

– Chris