February 25th will always be Koal’s birthday. He may be in doggie heaven but he’ll always be in my heart.

Koal never realized he was a dog. Kyle and Kimmy called him their baby brother. After they grew up and moved out, I’d tell him his brother or sister were coming over and he’d plant himself in the living room window watching for them.

His birthdays were always celebrated with a cake and sparklers. Whenever Koal saw me bake a cake with no icing, he knew it was his special day. He got an entire piece to himself on a plate. Of course we had to keep his fluffy ears away from the sparklers.

And of course he always received presents……….chew toys, squeaky toys, cuddly toys and lots of treats. Perhaps it was a tad overwhelming but he never complained.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been eight years since I baked that last cake…………………

I admit it. I love my life here but I really miss baking. My freezer in Canada always had brownies, hello dolly squares, blondies and nanaimo squares. Baking cheesecakes and dump cakes was a regular activity. I miss making my mom’s cinnamon twists and shortbread, my Auntie Jan’s honey cake and my Auntie Anne’s carrot pudding. You can’t make sex in a pan the same way. Challah and hamentashen? Impossible!

So many ingredients are not availaeble here. Cool Whip and Angel food cake mix were staples in my cupboard. Cocolate chips, butterscotch chips, peanut butter chips, Heath toffee bits…………oh but I could go on and on. Even butter and marshmallows are of a different consistency here. Flour and sugar are also different.

I was at a marketplace at La Catrina last week and was excited to see that a lady was selling nanaimo squares and lemon poppy seed loaf. But………..both were the consistency of lead and nowhere near as tasty as what I once baked in Canada.

Let’s talk Rice Crispie squares. I buy them in the package. They’re a little too sweet, but as I mentioned above the consistency of the ingredients changes the result completely. The only puffed wheat cereal you can get here is sweetened, so there goes my mom’s chocolate treats. Pie fillings and ice cream sauces are also unavailable here. There goes carmelitas and dump cakes. What? No Crisco? There goes homemade pie crusts. Graham crackers are nowhere to be found. Yes, baking is a challenge here.

In the grocery stores cakes that are popular are tres leche, or soaked in milk. Gooey and slimey on the bottom? No, I prefer light and fluffy. Cinnamon buns are non-existent here, and I miss that cream cheese icing on top too. But I did find a Ghirardelli brownie mix the other day at Soriana, and Philadelphia cream cheese. So I’m going to attempt some swirl brownies instead of my usual apple enchiladas. Now if only I had caramel sauce……………..

Lately I’ve been having some interesting conversations with people regarding returning “Home.” Our ages and sexes may vary, but one thing we all agree upon is that you can never go back “Home” once you have lived away for a long period of time. You can return to the same physical places, but “Home” just is never the same as when you left. 

Joe South expresses it well in this song: 

Times change and people change.  We may return to that hometown where we hold so many memories, but that’s all they are now. They’re only memories. While some hometowns have dwindled in population and indeed may even have vanished off the map, others have grown and often become unrecognizable.

Each time I return to my hometown of Winnipeg, it feels less and less like “Home”. People who were once important to me have moved away or passed away. Others have moved into new houses, condos or apartments. Even my doctors’ offices have all moved into different buildings. 

Green spaces have been transformed into new roadways and housing developments. My former commutes  have changed and seem so strange and unwelcoming now. The airport is a relatively new facility that I am not at all familiar with. Many of my favorite restaurants have vanished. Large chains have bought up smaller grocery stores. The stores in the malls have changed and big box stores have sprung up everywhere. Even the movie theaters are different and have relocated.

The one thing that does not appear to have changed is the stressful pace of life. The almighty clock still dictates the daily frenzy of activity. I honestly do not miss those frantic days of multi-tasking and logging way too many kilometers on my car in the face of almost impossible time constraints. I have now veered out of that fast lane and have found a calmer and more peaceful way of life. 

Yes, when expats here get together here, the discussion inevitably turns to the topic of “Home.” We have all had similar experiences when we return to our hometowns for visits. And while we all have hometowns elsewhere in other countries, Mexico is now the place we call “Home.”

My current housemates here in Mazatlan are extremely different from my other housemates I’ve had previously in Mexico. Five of them are cats. I share a condo with a woman from Alberta who also happens to rescue cats, have them neutered and then finds homes for them. Occasionally she fosters felines as well.

I’ve never really been a cat lover although I did have one for a brief time when I lived in Winnipeg. Dogs have always been my loves, but my lifestyle here in Mexico is really not conducive to having a dog as a pet. And these are Wanda’s cats, so she is the primary caregiver. I feed them occasionally, but Wanda is in charge of litter boxes and everything else.

Our condo is a spacious three bedroom two-story with a yard on the main level and a huge outdoor terrace on the second level. The cats are able to come and go as they please and always have access to the outdoors. However the cats are not welcome in my bedroom. They are far too mischievous.

Actually there were only supposed to be four, but at my request Elvis, one of the fostered felines, has not been put up for adoption. He has become my favorite. He sleeps on the table when I am on my laptop and sleeps in the hallway upstairs right outside my bedroom door. He also follows me outside when I sit on the wing on the terrace. And whenever I venture into the kitchen he is at my side meowing for food.

Willy is the baby and is extremely mischievous. His specialties include clawing the leather furniture and batting the sheets down from off the clothesline. He also does his best to sneak into the fridge when the door is open. Willy is playful and delights in wrestling around with the other cats.

Boots is another hellion. This little ninja is fearless and constantly escapes from the terrace upstairs and then comes to the front door when he gets hungry. He also loves to sit on top of Wanda’s truck and gaze at the activity on our street.

Bonny is Boots’s sister. This little girl has only one eye and would have been put down had Wanda not taken her in. She’s a little mischief as well, but also can be very affectionate. She often cuddles with me when I watch TV.

Cleo is a sweetheart who loves to cuddle but does not want to share me with the other cats. She will shove them out of the way in order to get my undivided attention. Cleo doesn’t really play with the others and is rather standoffish.

Oh yes! There is a sixth cat. Red is kind of a part-timer. He’s a feral cat who prefers to run wild, sometimes for days on end, but returns when he gets hungry. He is neither cute nor cuddly and has nothing to do with the others.

While these cats are affectionate and entertaining, I miss the unconditional love of a dog. I was blessed to have Koal and Kelsey in my life for many years when I lived in Canada. But for now, cats will have to do.

I know. It’s been ages since I’ve written a blog post. No, I haven’t been basking on the beach all the time sipping cervezas. And I haven’t been living in bars at night in the Zona Dorada. Hiding in air-conditioned malls? Nope, not that either. No traveling outside of Mazatlan for the time being. Quite tired of suitcases. I haven’t even been teaching more than a handful of hours a week. So, Karen, what the hell have you been up to?

I am a firm believer that it’s never too late in life to try new things. Relax………….I haven’t taken up parasailing or surfing, although I do enjoy the beach. But January was the start of a brand new year, and my enthusiasm for change kicked in.

So, Karen, you haven’t had enough changes in your life since moving to Mazatlan in June? Moved twice. Taught at three different schools. Found new contacts to assist in dealing with INM and IMMS. Which reminds me that I still have issues with INM to deal with as well as Hacienda.

But this change involves drama, a LOT of drama. By this point in the post, my kids are probably rolling their eyes and thinking, ” Oh no! WTF is our mother up to now?” And those of you who know me are well aware of my struggles in the past with anxiety and depression. Do I really need more drama in my life?

YES! This is GOOD drama! At the tender age of….never mind….I took a stab at acting. The venue was a murder mystery dinner theater at a hotel here in Mazatlan. It’s been an exciting and educational few weeks, but it’s over now. Nonetheless it’s been an amazing experience as I’ve never acted before in my life, and I had the opportunity to work with amazing people.  And the financial remuneration was substantial.

So…………….I wonder what’s next????? I think I’ll head to a beach now to ponder that question.

I have yet to write specifically about my career in teaching ESL here in Mexico. Now that I’m well into Year Six,  it’s probably a good time to reflect in writing upon my experiences and my students.

I arrived in Culiacan, Sinaloa, a city larger than my hometown of Winnipeg, on November 2, 2010. It was Day of the Dead, a holiday that I was soon to learn a great deal about. Indeed it has become one of my favorite Mexican holidays. After almost twenty-four hours of travel, while I welcomed the sunshine and the warm climate, I desperately needed sleep.  

The following day the Director of English picked me up and we headed over to the private school where I was to teach for the remainder of the school year. Although it was early in the morning, the temperature was nearing 30 Celsius and the humidity was high. Clad in shorts and a tank top, the perspiration poured from my body. My then short hair was drenched. And I gazed out at a sea of uniformed students in their winter apparel–long pants, sweaters and fleece jackets.

My first day in the classroom, I immediately turned on the air-conditioning. To my dismay the students begged me to turn it off as it was winter and they were freezing. Word got out and my other classes saw students arriving with scarves, hats and gloves as they heard that the new teacher had turned on the air-conditioning.

I was also required to wear a uniform consisting of long pants, a shirt and a wool vest. After all, it was winter. As soon as the school day ended, I immediately changed into a tank top and shorts before walking home. On the way home, I’d often stop at an Oxxo and buy a can of Coke, which I held up against my cheeks or my forehead to cool me off as I walked the few blocks to my home. The locals were all friendly and soon grew used to seeing the gringa teacher strolling down the street with a can of Coke plastered to her face.

That first year was challenging. I was teaching secundaria (middle school), and these teenagers were very different from the Canadian teenagers. Not only were they privileged and extremely spoiled, they still struggled with all the other issues that hormones cause at this age. They were not in the least concerned with their future and viewed learning English as a waste of time when they could be doing other things. Out of some 50 students I don’t think there were more than four or five who were actually eager to learn English and saw it as beneficial to their future

The next year found me in Irapuato, a small pueblo in the state of Guanajuato. While it was nice to be in a smaller center, Irapuato had very little to offer. The only real culture there was the futbol stadium that bustled with activity on Saturday nights. I had been hired on a Skype interview to teach sixth grade at a private school. It was apparent shortly after I got there that the job description provided in that interview in no way, shape or form resembled what the administration expected of teachers. They demanded we work longer hours and virtually treated us like slaves. Payday was often delayed as they hadn’t yet gone to the bank, or they didn’t have the correct denominations of bills to pay us. After 2-1/2 months, there was still no contract or health insurance as promised. I left after a little over two months when offered a job in Guadalajara.

I arrived at the bus terminal in Tlaquepaque and secured a taxi. The driver had to stop and ask for directions several times before we finally located the house provided by the school for the teachers. My housemates were a woman in her sixties from Canada, a woman in her twenties from Norway and a man in his twenties from Ireland. It proved to be quite an interesting semester. The Canadian woman was an alcoholic who left for Ecuador a couple of months later. The Irishman wound up in jail and was fired. The woman from Norway and I are still friends, although she moved in with her Mexican boyfriend midway through the semester.

The following semester I remained at the same language institute and had three new housemates, two from Ireland and one from the USA. This semester was very different from the first one. The school had moved us to another location, an office building that had been converted into a house. Although it was closer to the school, it was a disaster! The main level had been rented out to a zumba studio. The second floor had a living room, a small balcony, two bedrooms and a bathroom. The third floor had another two bedrooms, a bathroom and the kitchen. The school was notorious for not paying their bills, so our water was cut off, we had no gas and the Internet was cut off. Then we teachers went on strike as they thought it would be fun not to pay us. Once I was finally paid, I left. Enough is enough.

I also taught business English on site to companies, and really enjoyed that experience. I met interesting people who were actually interested in learning English. I felt badly when I had to return to Canada for surgery as I had really enjoyed my students.

When I returned to Tlaquepaque, I briefly taught at a language institute, but the students were there as it was cheap babysitting for parents. I then began teaching at a language institute where my students were mainly adults, many of them young professionals. I taught there for about a year and a half before returning to Canada for a visit.

When I returned to Mexico this time, I moved to Mazatlan. I taught for a school for a little over a month, but left when, among other things, they refused to assist me in renewing my work visa as promised. I then taught briefly at another language institute. Then a new school opened up and I began teaching there as well. However that school subsequently closed just before Christmas.

Teaching in Mexico has been a fabulous experience; my one year plan is now in year six. There have been challenges……a new language, a different culture, securing a work visa and health insurance. But I have met the most amazing people! And I have had awesome adventures! Right now I can’t fathom living anywhere else.

I have now been in Mazatlan just shy of eight months. I have only one private student at the moment, but have just embarked on yet another career. You’ll have to watch for future posts to learn more.

Every year for the last seven years I have spent New Years Eve in different cities with different people. In 2009 I was in Winnipeg, 2010 I was in El Fuerte, 2011 I was in Culiacan, 2012 I was in Mexico City, 2013 and 2014 I was actually in Tlaquepaque both years but with different people, and 2015 I was in Mazatlan. This year I was recovering from a nasty bout of food poisoning on New Year’s Eve so I toasted in the new year with PowerAde while my friend rang it in with alcohol. Ok, he did persuade me to take a couple of sips but it was not my drink of choice that night.

After checking old blog posts and journals, I am now ready to write my first post of 2016. First of all, I’d like to wish everyone a fabulous 2016. May you be blessed with good health, happiness and peace in your lives.

The beginning of the year always means wonderful resolutions and intentions.  As for me, I have but one resolution and that is to take care of ME. I am not going to pressure myself with a myriad of resolutions that will be impossible to achieve. I am going to do what makes ME happy and it doesn’t matter to me what other people think or say.

I know that while many of you will support this reasoning, there are also those who may view this as being selfish or narcissistic even. Congratulations skeptics as you are the true narcissists! That’s right! People like me have always enabled people like you throughout our lives. Well, now you’re on your own. It’s time to take care of me. Judge me all you want. I simply don’t care anymore.

I spent too many years of my life involved in a career I detested and remaining in an unhappy marriage–all as it was in the best interests of others. I’ve always tried to do the right thing, although my efforts often went unacknowledged. After decades of banging my head against that brick wall, I realize that it’s time to put myself first instead of everyone else in my life. 

Do you also find yourself in a similar position? Is it finally time to take care of yourself? 

 Who is with me? Are you in?