Cinquo de Mexico

An e-mail I sent to Marianne on my first day in Mexico on my fifth trip to that country:

"Day 1: Whilst sitting alone in the booth at the edu-fair, I was approached by a blonde man in his fifties whom I had observed speaking fluent Spanish in the adjacent cafe earlier. He promptly introduced himself in fluent American English, sat himself down and engaged me in conversation. Our interaction revealed that he was from Kansas, and I slowly recognized the subtle idiosyncratic behaviour that is occasionally characteristic of a gay man who is accustomed to keeping it secret. I also slowly began to realize that he was coming on to me. Part of our conversation somehow landed on his childhood in a Catholic family.
"No, I´m not Catholic anymore. Can you guess why?"
"Yes, Chris, I think I have an idea."
His disappointment at discovering I was not gay was apparent and he stormed off in what I could only describe as a ´huff´.
Later, on the way back to the hotel, Rudy and I stopped at a little roadside food joint called ´Beef´. I was in some urgent need for a bathroom which, of course, they didn´t have. A little negotiating by Rudy and the ´guy´ (who could not be described with such a lofty title as maitre´d) told Rudolfo to have me follow his waiter. Curiously, I did so, and we went out through the back to the dumpster beside the car dealership next door and he clandestinely directed me to the back corner to pee, where the stench made it fairly obvious that their staff made regular use of this locale. "Whatever doesn´t kill you, only makes you . . . stranger." Bienvenido a Mexico - el tiempo cinquo.

She is BEAUTIFUL! Thank you for the pictures. As "insensitive" as I am, there is no man on earth who experiences the anguish I do in every tiny moment that I am not with my daughter and her beautiful mother."

Sadly, and with some regret, changes in my life, and decisions I find myself in the process of making, makes it highly probable that this will be my last trip to Mexico, at least in my capacity in my career as a TESL educator. What I have come to learn, however, is that every change in life is followed by the unexpected, not the expected; every intention manifests its consequences differently than we imagine; and every ending, no matter how melancholy or invasive, is followed by a new beginning. On this day that I offer my mother very deep sympathies for her loss, I encourage her to believe with me that, although never as expected, the adventure is not over yet.

I will be home soon, my dear. And as is true every day that you wake up next to me, I will be a little different than the last time you saw me.

See you in . . . well, just see you.
Shakes.