Friday dawns bright and sunny and off I go to IMSS Clinic #39 at Alamo. I am prepared for this. Pedro has coached me and provided me with all the appropriate vocabulary.

I check in with the receptionist near the front door. She directs me to an elevator and tells me to go to the second floor. Surprise, surprise! The elevator does not work. So up the stairs I go to the second floor. Or what I thought was the second floor. It turns out it’s the mezzanine. So  I go up another flight of stairs. I check in with a receptionist here who points across a large room where a throng of people are lined up at several different windows.

I spot a door marked that it is for authorized personnel only and slip through unnoticed. Here I once again announce my purpose in perfectly rehearsed Spanish to a woman sitting at a desk. Skeptically she opens the envelope containing my documents.  I hold my breath as she scrutinizes them thoroughly. She points to a well-worn vinyl couch and tells me to wait.

I sit down and put on my patience hat. After about fifteen minutes I decide it’s Candy Crush time and pull out my iPhone. But lives don’t last forever, so moments later I stash my iPhone back in my purse.

The nice lady who checked my documents strikes up a conversation with me. She even offers to share her breakfast with me. And when the director of the clinic and the doctor arrive an hour later, she makes sure that I am the first one in.

The doctor is a very pregnant woman and is very pleasant. She even understands the odd English word. She examines me with a stethoscope and then asks me a myriad of questions. Thank you Pedro for assisting me with all the vocabulary!

The director then comes in and he speaks English very well. He explains that I am accepted into the program pending the results of my lab tests. Lab tests? The doctor accompanies me to the lab. Thirty minutes later I am given an appointment for the blood tests, one week later. I am also handed a small glass vessel the size of a test tube and instructed to bring in a urine sample when I come back the following week. Oh, it’s also a fasting blood test. Good thing the appointment is for 7 am. Armed with the requisition papers and the glass tube, I return to the director’s office where he confirms everything to me in English.

He also tells me to go to Window 3 where they will begin the process of providing me with a medical card. By some miracle there is no line in front of Window 3. But the smiling young lady does not speak English either. Instead she writes out a page of instructions for me.

I couldn’t believe my eyes! All that is left to do is to provide an original utility bill with my address, a copy of this bill, my passport and a copy of the front page, and one photo! These are all items I have in my overflowing file folder of documents at home. And I’m to bring these back when I return for the lab work.

So stay tuned for Part 4. It might be the last part of It’s Complicated!

I recently returned from a short but fabulous vacation to two of my favorite places in Mexico. I had submitted my final manuscript for my second book to my publisher, and it was time to breathe again.

I boarded an overnight bus to Culiacan. Buses here in Mexico are very different from those in Canada. The comfy seats recline, there is extra leg room, a computer terminal at each seat and they even give you a bag of food. I watched a movie, and then fell asleep listening to some beautiful classical music.

Early the next morning, a wave of heat and humidity hit me as I got off the bus. Of course the taxi wasn’t air-conditioned, but the driver had thankfully covered the windows with a blanket while parked at the bus station. Driving with the windows down, a hot breeze was most inviting at the time.

I arrived home after a short ride. And I use the term “home” as this really is home to me. When I taught in Culiacan, Juan and Lucila and their entire extended family literally adopted me. And I always look forward to staying with them when I come back to visit.

Juan had already left for school, and Lucila was getting the kids ready to go. Moments later, we were off to drop the two older ones at Kinder. And then Lucila and I had a delicious breakfast of burritos at a stand by the roadside. And I was delighted that Anjelito kept us company all day, although he did sleep most of the time.

The days in Culiacan flew by all too quickly. It was amazing to see how much the kids have grown in the past months. Jose Augustin was just learning how to walk when I last saw him, and now he was actively racing around everywhere we went. Juan Carlos has grown so tall and has become very talkative. And in the morning, I delighted in their hugs and greetings of “Buenos dias, Abuelita!”

We went out for raspados and went to a park late at night. Juan Carlos raced around on his tricycle and Jose Augustin had a little train. They then played a game of “Lobo” with some other children. On Sunday we went to church where Lucila sang and Juan played keyboard.

We also visited with both Lucila’s family and Juan’s family. There was a stop at the mercado and a lovely drive out to Cascades de San Antonio. And I went to Berlitz one night with Juan and watched him give an oral exam to students studying French. 

And I even squeezed in an afternoon with my friend Juan Pablo. We went out for lunch and then went to Las Riberas, a lovely park along the river. It was so peaceful and relaxing.

Culiacan will always have a special place in my heart. Were it not for the soaring temperatures and humidity I would love to move back there. While I prefer the climate in Guadalajara, the air quality is horrible with all the pollution. And while it’s exciting to live in a big city, a smaller city does have it appeal.

I left Culiacan and headed for Mazatlan. The day I arrived it was partially cloudy which was fine for a first day on the beach. And I also went for a walk to Panama, one of my favorite restaurants for lunch. But by evening the rain had started, and Hurricane Vance was fast approaching.

Tuesday the rain continued, so I ventured out to WalMart in a pulminio. I just love these open air taxis, even in the rain!

I enjoyed a lovely dinner at the hotel, with only a partial glass wall separating me from the beach. The waves ominously crashed ashore while a guitar duo provided lovely background music in the restaurant.

I awoke the next morning to clearing skies, and excitedly went for a long walk along the malecon. The blazing sun  soon appeared and it was time to hit the beach. 

It was surprisingly quiet on the beach with only a smattering of suncots in use. But the vendors were out in full force with jewelry, sunglasses, tattoos, clothing and sombreros. A few musicians strolled the beach as well. And then came the remarkable sunset.

The following morning I spent my last few hours on the beach. The waves were much calmer and the sun burst through the clouds in all its glory.

And before I knew it, the time had come to pack up and check out of the hotel. I haled a pulmonio and headed for the bus station. It was time to return to Guadalajara. My students were expecting me.

Adios Mazatlan! Hasta Luego!

Yay! The computers are working again at IMSS.  Pedro phoned to check yesterday so we decided to return to the office today.

But what a difference one day can make! We are greeted at the reception desk only to be told that sadly the computers are down AGAIN! But if we want to take a number and wait our turn, they will take down my name and CURP number and will email me when I can come back. We decide to wait.

Periodically one of the staff addressed everyone in the waiting room urging people to go to other IMSS locations. A second option was to complete a form and wait to be contacted as to when to return. The third option was to wait, and wait we did.

Almost three hours later it was our turn. By some miracle the computers were now working again, albeit extremely slowly. A mere half hour later , armed with yet another form with my new social security number, we trudged back up the stairs. Of course we had to take another number and wait our turn once again. And finally our number was called.

And the staff remembered us and were most friendly. Only one more form to fill out now. The form was in Spanish so Pedro filled it out and I signed it.  And then it was back down the stairs to get a form to take to the bank to pay the registration fee.  

Ah yes, the bank! There was a Bancomer right next to IMSS. But the fees cannot be paid at this bank. Bancomer is not on the list of approved banks by IMSS. Four blocks away we find an HSBC, a bank on the list! There was a short lineup here, so we were not able to enjoy the air-conditioned building for too long. 

Back we go to the IMSS building. Up the stairs we go again to see our friend Oscar. Yes, we are now on a first name basis with the staff. He explains in great detail the next steps in the process and hands me a sealed envelope containing more documents. I have been assigned to a clinic. I need to go to the director’s office where I will get an appointment to see a doctor. This doctor then examines me and approves my application. Then I am given more documents. And I need to bring these documents back to my friend Oscar at the IMSS office.

But all this will have to wait. I am off to Culiacan on Thursday to see my grandsons.

Stay tuned for Part 3……………..

So Karen, you thought you were home free. You got your residente temporal and it only took five months. But now it’s time to get health insurance.

First step is to get all the documents together. Two mug shots. Check. Two photocopies of front page of passport. Check. Two photocopies of residente temporal tarjeta. Check. Two photocopies of utility bill. Check. Two photocopies of letter from landlord indicating that he is acting on behalf of the person named on the utility bill. Check. Two photocopies of landlord’s identification card. Check.

Now it’s time to head to the office of Seguro Popular. This is too easy. The office is a mere six blocks from my house. And it is too easy. I’m not eligible as I don’t have a residente permanent. Time to check out the other government program called IMMS.

So off I go to IMMS the following week. Nope. Not eligible here either. There must be a minimum of two people in a household to sign up for this program. I offer to pay for two and the man shakes his head. He tells me that the school where I teach is obligated by law to provide me with health insurance and that is the only way I can qualify. And of course the school does not provide insurance for the teachers.

Frustrated I turn to the Expat groups on Facebook. Not surprisingly many people have shared my experience. However several others have been able to obtain Seguro Popular with a temporal. Apparently in Nayarit and in Mazatlan IMSS is available to singles. And the comments continued to be voiced.

I have this remarkable student who also happens to be a doctor in an IMSS hospital. He investigated further for me and informed me that it was possible for me to obtain insurance. And if I didn’t mind, he would like to accompany me to the office to register for health insurance. Needless to say, I was completely overwhelmed by his kindness and generosity.

And I only needed one additional document. I required my birth certificate translated into Spanish by a state designated translator. And of course the obligatory two photocopies of said document. Check.

So off we went to IMSS. Initially we were informed that I did not qualify as there must be a minimum of two people. Here we go again! Pedro was very persuasive and an hour and a half later I was given approval to apply for health coverage. But first we must return to the main floor where I will be given a number for social security.  So down we go only to be told that the computers are down and have been down for a week. And without a number I am unable to go through the application process. Therefore another visit was now necessary.

And the computers are still down a week later. And apparently not just at IMSS, but at Immigration as well. My CURP number was supposed to be available days ago, but has not surfaced. I need this number to register for taxes and get a seniors discount card, among other things. My lawyer and good friend German is looking into this for me now. And once this is all out of the way, I want to open a bank account. And maybe it’s time to get my Canadian phone unlocked. I’m tired of carrying around two phones. And then ………..

Stay tuned for Part 2……………….

This morning as I was preparing my breakfast potatoes a million memories flashed through my brain and all of these are associated with this delicious root vegetable.

Until I was three, my family lived with my grandparents in a house in the infamous north end of Winnipeg. And only steps away on Main Street was a restaurant called Kelekis. This was home to the most awesome shoestring fries (at that time they were known as “chips”) and the takeout window was one of my favorite places. When we moved to the south end of the city, Kelekis was always a pit stop for a snack for the long drive home.

The years went by and fast food chains such as McDonalds soon invaded with their version of french fries (the term “chips” was now designated to the dried crispy potatoes sold in packages in grocery stores). 

Juniors was a hamburger stand across from the train station further south on Main Street. Their fries were awesome as well. One of their biggest fans was my dog Koal. He would often eagerly wolf down this tantalizing treat.

Sadly Kelekis is no more but Juniors is still there although it has been known as VJ’s for several years now.  And it is always on my itinerary when I return to Winnipeg for a visit.

Of course there is more to potatoes than the french fried version. Acropolis Restaurant in Winnipeg was where I first tasted the Greek style lemon potatoes. Through the years I have enjoyed these potatoes in numerous Greek restaurants but those first ones will always be the special ones to me.

Then baked potato soup came into my life via Tony Roma’s in Winnipeg. This gave the simple side dish of loaded baked potatoes an entirely new meaning. Somehow having that creamy potato soup adorned with chopped green onions and bacon easily became a favorite, especially with the climate in Manitoba.

Baked sweet potatoes were featured on the menu at Outback in the USA, and I was hooked. I even began to cook these in my own kitchen at home complete with the butter and cinnamon.

And then sweet potato fries became all the rage. These became quite common on many restaurant menus, and were found in the frozen sections of grocery stores.

But my absolute favorite potato is the sweet potato dish my daughter whips up on holidays. And now that she lives in Ontario, it has been years since I have eaten her sweet potatoes, although I have often attempted to duplicate hers over the years. Alas mine are not nearly as creamy, light or tasty. The last time I made these was a year ago when I was in Winnipeg.

I can’t believe that a year has flown by since I cooked that last Thanksgiving dinner in Winnipeg. Kyle and Krista came over for dinner, and of course my son accused me of preparing far too much food. Guilty as charged but the only way I know how to cook. The menu was turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, veggies, cole slaw, jello mold and homemade rosemary bread. Dessert was pumpkin pie, apple pie and three types of dainties.  Yes…..dinner for three!

But now that it is a year later and I am back on my own in Mexico, I wish that I could linger a few minutes more at that table with my family in Canada. But I am thankful for that one last dinner together. I am thankful for my children. I am thankful for my friends. I am thankful that God has blessed me with the life I once had and the life I now have.

Do you think about dying? I used to think about it a lot at certain times in my life. As a child, death was always portrayed to me as a horrific experience, especially by my mother. Death was not a subject to be discussed with children. There was never a mention of heaven or of someone being at rest after suffering a prolonged illness. Instead all was centered around grieving endlessly with tears and unhappiness, and the idea that the world had come to an end because someone had died. I was traumatized by these images.

I was a baby when my grandfather died. All I recall is that my grandmother stayed in this big house after he died, and she rented out rooms to people. Part of the reasoning may have been financial, but I think she enjoyed the company of having others around. I was eight when she passed away, and was extremely upset when I was not allowed to attend the funeral.

My other grandfather died the day of my piano exam and the day before my ballet exam. I was eleven at the time. Again, arrangements were made so that I took the exams and did not attend the funeral. When I was thirteen my favorite uncle died. After much debate, I was allowed to attend that funeral.

When I had children of my own, I handled death very differently. I talked to my children and read books to them. Whenever possible, I took them to the hospital for visits, and I allowed them to come to the cemetery and to attend funerals at a very young age. I handled their curiosity with openness, and I firmly believe that this is a much healthier approach than the one my own parents used.

Death is part of life. It is inevitable. That I accepted readily as a child. But my perception was that when people died, it was devastating for those left behind. I never really thought much about what came next for the deceased.

In actuality I never really feared death until a couple of years ago when I was terrified that my life was about to come to an end. I finally consented to knee replacement surgery, the same surgery that had taken my mother’s life eighteen years ago. I was convinced that the end was near. I redrafted my will. I prepared special letters for my children and placed them carefully in envelopes along with copies of Robert Munsch’s book, Love You Forever. And the night before the surgery I emailed my obituary to my children.

I was absolutely amazed when I survived that surgery. And a year later I had the other knee done as well. So was all that anxiety and fear of death unnecessary and for naught?

I now give a great deal of thought as to what comes after death. Is there a heaven? Is there a hell? Who is waiting for me in the afterlife? I’m divorced. Before the divorce I always thought my husband would be there if he went first. Now I hope he won’t be there.

I like to think that I will see my parents again. That is a comforting thought. I haven’t seen my father in almost thirty-eight years. He never knew his grandchildren. But I am glad that both of my parents were gone when I got divorced. Yes it would have been nice to have some family around to support me, but I also think that they would have been very upset about the situation. After all, divorce is also a death- the death of a relationship.

I wonder if I will see Kelsey and Koal again. These were my beloved pets over the years. I held them lovingly in my arms as they each breathed their last breath. Kelsey passed away shortly after his sixteenth birthday. Koal passed away just before his sixteenth birthday. I hope that they have found each other and will be there with wagging tails waiting for me.

We are born, we live and we die. And then…………

Today is a strange day. I’m not exactly sure why, but it just feels weird. It’s actually quite gloomy outside today. The torrential rains overnight have ensured that the ground is still saturated. And the forecast is for more rain later on today. It is apparent  that the rainy season here in Guadalajara that was to have ended in August still lingers on into October. I’m a little skeptical of what scientists have labelled “Global Warming”.

I check my Facebook page and note that one of my Canadian friends has shared more than twenty links in the past five minutes. Most are the usual affirmations but not a personal note on any of them. I wonder what she is up to besides her Facebook addiction.

And I must admit that I have a new addiction. It began when I was recovering from surgery last year and it is called Candy Crush. I have a significant number of friends who are also addicted, and we conscientiously send each other lives and extra moves every day. I justify this activity as a great stress reliever, although sometimes I wonder if it merely adds to the stress.

Stress? You have stress in your life? But you live in Mexico. How can there be stress in your life? Let’s see…………deciding where to live,  finding a job, obtaining a work visa, trying to get health insurance, avoiding flash flooding in the inclement weather. I think you get the idea. It doesn’t matter where you live. Stress is everywhere. The trick is to manage stress so as to minimize the damage it is capable of doing.

I also have a major publishing deadline coming up at the end of October. I am about to publish my second book. Those of you who know me well fully understand the reasons which have caused the delay in getting this book out. But it is now finally happening, and I have a confirmed date of May 5th, 2015 for a book launch back in Winnipeg. “Alive Again! “

My neighbor just stopped by for a short visit. Carlos is a Mexican who spent most of his life in the USA. He’s probably about twenty years old than me, but is young at heart and I enjoy spending time with him. When I was ill a couple of months ago, he cooked for me and brought me food down to the chocolate he knows I treasure. He is also a wealth of information about many things Mexican.

It was nice to sleep in this morning and spend the day writing and studying Spanish, but it’s time to prepare for the English classes I will teach later on this afternoon. And I think I will publish this blog post now before I change my mind.