The Commute

Some of you people out there in Bloggerland noticed my blog change to I Was Crazy For Living In Reynosa. I haven't spent a night there since February 10. I didn't want to go into details because I was afraid of word getting out to my students. It's amazing that I don't care if they see some groseros (4-letter words), but I didn't want them to know I was leaving. Not that I've told my students about my blog or I that I am Facebook friends with any current students, but you know how electronically savvy kids are, right?

Anyone familiar with my blog or me personally know that I've have been wanting to divorce myself from Reynosa. Too many gun battles, narco-blockades, thieves like Edward Cadena, transito and police. The last incident was the final straw.  Two weeks I gave the school my resignation to be effective February 28.  I've been commuting from Texas since then.

Advantages:
1. House with central heat and air conditioning.
2. Insulated walls and windows.
3. My own bathroom with hot water that regularly flows not only in the bathtub, but the sink as well!  And, yes, I said BATHTUB.
4. A fully equipped kitchen that actually has cabinets and counters with a real refrigerator and an oven that has Fahrenheit temperature (not 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)
5. My truck is locked behind a secure gate.
6. I've never heard people shooting at each other.

Disadvantages:
1. It takes one hour to drive to the school.
2. It takes 1.5 - 2 hours to drive home (bridge wait time and the traffic is heavier)
3. $75 a week in gas (more now that gas has jumped .30 a gallon).
4. $25 a week for tolls on bridge.

So I go to the office today to turn in my grades and tell them, "Hey, it's been great working with ya'll."

Silence (insert crickets chirping here)

Apparently my resignation wasn't taken seriously even though I explained it was not cost or time effective to commute from Texas every day. The director pulled himself together and said he would go talk to the owner. Less than half hour later as I was cleaning out my desk, it was decided that I would be reimbursed for gas and bridge fees until they can find a replacement for me.

So the commute continues... for a while anyway.  And now ya'll know the rest of the story.

UPDATE on The Party Is Over Reynos-hell

While I sat waiting for a tow truck tonight because some fucking asshole tried to steal my old, beat-up truck at the Periferico Mall in Reynos-hell and fucked up the lock on the door and really fucked up the starter, I got to hear gunshots and witness cars, trucks, and police cars tear through the parking lot in pursuit.

I'm in Texas now.

UPDATE:  The truck is in the shop on the Texas side.  When it is all said and done with repairs and lost time at work, I will lose about $500.  And for what?  The asshole didn't even steal the truck even though when he got through with it he could have started it with a screwdriver.  I guess I should consider myself lucky that the truck wasn't stolen.

Freezing Ass, Bone Chilling Cold

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.

I'm cold.  Under 3 blankets with 2 space heaters.  I looked at electric blankets in Texas a couple weeks ago in Texas. I thought to myself I won't use it when I come back to Texas permanently so I didn't buy one. I am paying for it now. 

I woke up this morning and looked outside.  Everything was covered in a sheet of ice. This is not the norm here.  My old pickup truck has no heat and, therefore, no defrost. So the other foreign teacher, Mr. Hardcore I'm Never Late or Miss a Day of Work, went to school by taxi this morning and sent me a txt.  Basically, no one is there.  I would head for Texas but according to the news reports, all the highways that I need to take are closed.  

Yesterday I wrote on Facebook all about how only 2 of 26 students showed up for school even though our school has heat.  They're a bunch of wimps (24 of them anyway).  When I was a kid in order to get to school I had to walk 5 miles in 6 feet of snow uphill... both ways.  And the story got bigger when Mr. Hardcore Teacher souped it up by claiming I did this barefoot and had to step in fresh cow pies to warm up my feet.  The kids were in awe until one smarty asked, "Miss, if you walked uphill to school wouldn't you be going downhill on the way home?"  I thought kids were suppose to believe everything their teachers shoveled at them??? 

Harlequin novel, version 2011

He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me  into a room, his room.  Then he quietly shut the door and we were  alone.  He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a  low, reassuring voice close to my ear. "Just relax." Without  warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves, slowly but steadily.  My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care.  His  touch was so experienced, so sure.  When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes.  My pulse was pounding.  I felt his  knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage.  And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to  my shoulders, slid them down my  tingling spine and into my panties. Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and  expectant.  This is a man, I thought.  A man used to taking charge.  A  man not used to taking ‘No’ for an answer.  A man who would tell me  what he wanted.  A man who would look into my soul and say . . . .. "Okay ma'am, you can board your flight now."

RIP Nancy Shuman Davis

I extend my sympathies to the family of Nancy Shuman Davis.  For those who haven't heard her name on the national news recently, she was killed by a bullet to the head yesterday south of Reynosa in a community called San Fernando. She was a missionary for 40 years with her husband to help out the poor in Mexico. She and her husband were driving on a highway near San Fernando just south of Reynosa when a group tried to stop them probably to steal their truck.  They ran the roadblock and were chased with bullets and had their truck rammed. The husband sped towards the border to take Nancy to the hospital where she died. That's the way it is here in parts of Tamaulipas.

I've read a few of the comments people have posted about her death.  Many have blasted them for driving a 2008 Chevy truck in an area known for a lot of highjackings. Another claimed they should have stopped and given up the truck. One cynic even pointed out that the husband drove more than 70 miles without stopping for help so the husband probably killed the wife. However, by all accounts, this couple devoted their life to helping others in Mexico.  It is OK to think it, but, geez, people, do you have to publicly comment where family and friends may read it?  When a loved one is lost, it hurts.  A lot.  I should know.  I lost my beautiful, baby sister Lynn in a car accident almost a year ago.  The horrific photos of her car under the school bus planted all over the newspaper along with photos of people holding sheets while they removed her body from the car were bad enough.   Many newspapers no longer allow comments on such news reports because of the hurtful comments.  And for good reason.  Some idiot posted, "Was the phone call worth it?", implying that my sister was on her cell phone when the accident happened. Even if it were true, is it really necessary to say it like that?

And just for the record, my sister was not talking or texting.  The deputy got the records from the cell phone company and proved that the phone wasn't even on before the accident occurred.  One small vindication, but it doesn't bring my sister back.

RIP Nancy Shuman Davis
RIP David Hartley
RIP Don Alejo Garza Tamez
RIP Lynn Mota

Going Postal on the Municipal Police Commander in Reynosa

I can't believe I did it.

I was helping out a friend named Wil to move a few things with my truck today when I was stopped by the municipal police. Usually it is the blood-sucking transito (traffic cop), not the municipal police, that stop and request a donation.  I've donated once in Mexico City and once in Reynosa. It's a way of life here. I pulled over and Mr. Policeman requested my papers for the truck. I hadn't been driving fast or committed any other infraction and he wasn't the transito so I was hoping it was just some sort of routine check. I gave him my registration, insurance card, license, passport and my school ID card.  I informed him I was a TEACHER since teachers are usually held in high esteem in Mexico and I hoped that would make him go away.  Then he asked Wil for his ID which he produced.  The cop should have said, "Have a nice day" and let's us go on our way.  But NOOOOOOOOOOO.  He said we would have to follow him to the police station. At this point, (grumble, grumble) I am still OK and so I followed Mr. Officer to the station.  When we arrived, he took Wil into the commander's office and wouldn't allow me in. I stood there a while wondering what is going on when the original officer asked me where do I live and who do I live with?  I smiled and pretended to not understand while thinking, "That's none of your f'ing business especially since I've done nothing wrong."

So I waited and waited and finally I poked my head in the door. I was informed by my friend that the commander told him the cop followed us from the hotel and decided to check us out.

"WHAT????" with mouth opened wide in surprise.  "What hotel?"   Not that I would really know, the only thing along this area are flea-bag motels that are rented in 4 hour intervals.  After a few more "What hotel?" I went postal on his ass.  All in English.  It might have been better if Mr. Commander did speak English because my rant went something like this....

"What fucking hotel did this cop follow us from?  We weren't in any fucking hotel!  If I wanted to bonk this guy, I would have done it in my own bed on my clean sheets! Not in some flea-bag, crack hotel where sheets are changed every 30 days whether they need it or not. I've showed you all my papers and everything is in order.  This is incredibly STUPID."

Photo from Borderland Beat to show example of narco-blockade - not my photo.

Mr. Commander glared at me and I glared back.  So I called someone from the school to help with the translations.  The friend did verify that I was a teacher (I guess my school ID wasn't good enough) and told the commander where I lived.  We were allowed to leave the police station but not without a parting shot from Mr. Commander about how I need to show respect. This is part where the breath was sucked in slowly.  In a voice that was a little more controlled than before, I stared at Mr. Commander straight in the eye and told him, "Whatever."

I found out later that in deciphering the English haze that just hit him, he thought I called him stupid. And calling someone ESTUPIDO in Mexico is a capital offense.

If you thought this would be the end of the story, you thought wrong.



So we barely left the police station and right in front of us was a narco-blockade.  The narcos highjack large transportation type vehicles and place them sideways across the road so all traffic stops.  Today they used a big touring bus (like a Greyhound) and an old school bus that now serves as public transportation. There were several other vehicles helping to block all passages.  This happens so that the gun battle may begin and no traffic can get through.  Wil told me to turn around quick which I did.  We found another route and arrived close to the center of town when we discovered all the bridges across the canal were narco-blockaded.  I didn't know which way to turn and Wil is yelling at me to turn around but in the confusion I ran through another blockade.  Apparently they had run out of big buses and were using passenger trucks. I whipped around one and Wil yelled at me to go to Linda's house that is only 2 blocks away.  Luckily Linda was home and I hid out there for an hour monitoring the Twitter feeds to find out when all was clear.  Twitter is just about our only news source in Reynosa since nothing is reported on the news.

I'm tired.  I've got more gray hair and more wrinkles.  I've promised everyone that this will be my last year in Reynosa.  Even though I've been called a liar about the negative things I've written about, I swear to God it is the truth.  My imagination isn't good enough to make this shit up if I tried.

I'm Dangerous and Must Be Deleted

If you don't like my bitching, you better stop reading.  What can I say? It's one of the things I do so well.

After all the crap that happened to me in October and November, I pretty much had it with living in Reynosa. And then I received an invitation to look at a website called Mexico Online (www.mexicoonline.com) and so I did. There was a question being asked about feeling safe in Mexico.  I replied no and qualified it by saying I lived in Reynosa, and wrote about some of things I've witnessed and my friends have seen.  Oh, boy, did I open a can of worms.  I was called a bad mother because I allowed my adult sons to visit me and they got to witness a gun battle. I was called a liar because nothing bad happens in Mexico and it is statistically safer than the United States.  I was actually told I should be writing about how safe it is in Mexico. When I wrote an email to the moderator about how he was too judgmental for calling me a bad mother, he responded by deleting my account.  Apparently Mexico Online only wants to hear the rosy and wonderful things about living or visiting Mexico.  It advertises itself as the place for people who live and work in Mexico but I found out that only means if you have money and can afford to buy a home in places like Cabo San Lucas or San Miguel Allende.  I do understand that bad press is bad for business and my bitching, as one member told me, is doing more damage to Mexico than the Cartel.

That's right folks, I'm more dangerous than the Cartel and I must be deleted.