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.

When I was in Texas having an interview at the Mexican Consulate in order to obtain a work visa, I was asked some very pointed questions. Upon my return to Guadalajara, I decided to retreat to my favorite place, Parque Mirador, where I often go to contemplate life. I felt the need to ponder these questions further.

I arrived in Culiacan on Day of the Dead, November 2, 2010 after about eighteen hours of travel through five airports. The temperature was in the high 30’s celsius and the humidity was overwhelming. My house was not air-conditioned but thankfully there was a unit in my bedroom. My mantra: “You can do this Karen. It’s only for eight months!”

It is now almost four years later and I live in Guadalajara. My life is simple here. I teach, I write, I study Spanish and I travel. There are no rigid schedules to adhere to and the fast pace of life in Canada is behind me. I enjoy my relatively stress-free lifestyle immensely, although it is not by any means completely carefree.

So how did an eight month commitment become a multiple year adventure? Indeed I now find myself in a position where I am considering permanent residency here. 

But…………

I miss my children. I miss seeing their faces. I miss sharing meals with them. I miss their pets. Occasionally I do hear a voice on the phone, although way too many times it’s merely a voicemail message. I feel like I am missing out on so much by not being there with them. And they have no real idea of what my life is like here in Mexico as they are reluctant to come and visit. I highly doubt that they even read my blog as it is never mentioned in our infrequent conversations.

A few times this past winter I texted my kids, concerned for their safety with all the inclement weather. Their reaction was the usual “You worry too  much”. But that has always been my job as a mother. No. Wait a minute. It was never just a job. It was my life! And it still is, although my children are adults in their 30’s and I live thousands of miles away in another country.

Every day I see families together wherever I go. They enjoy picnics in parks, go to movies, go out for ice cream and go on vacations together. A flood of memories wash over me as I remember these special times with my own children. And I long to go back in time and linger for one or two minutes more in Disney World or Rawhide. Yes, I even now treasure sitting in the Minneapolis airport for hours on end during flight delays listening to Alf tell stories and buying my daughter endless cups of hot chocolate at Caribou Coffee. 

My daughter is engaged and is planning to get married next year. I recall the many conversations my mother and I had planning my wedding and it saddens me that this will not be an experience I will share with my own daughter. It hurts that I will not be with her when she shops for a wedding gown or chooses invitations. In fact, by the time the wedding rolls around, it will have been more than two years since I have last seen her.

Just as I have had to accept this situation and so many others regarding my family,  I question if my children have accepted my decision to remain in Mexico. It has never really been a topic of conversation for us. And I often wonder why we discuss the most trivial things while the appropriate words are never spoken about the more important things in our lives.

Communication. Do we ever truly express our feelings and concerns to others on a regular basis as we should? Or do we tiptoe around in an attempt to shelter and protect others from uncomfortable and perhaps awkward situations in our lives? And how does this affect our relationships? These are just some of the thoughts racing through my mind as I gaze out at the canyon.

Reflection and meditation. The canyon provides a safe haven for me where I can rest in the moment and view my world. For I am forever traveling on a perpetual journey to preserve an inner peace and tranquility in my heart. 

 

 

 

What? You have grandchildren? Many of my Canadian and American friends reading this will wonder about this one. My close friends and my friends in Mexico will know what I’m talking about. You see, I have both unconventional and conventional grandchildren. I’ll begin with the unconventional.

My son Kyle bought his first aquarium while my ex and I were in Las Vegas many moons ago. He knew that his father had forbidden him to pursue this hobby, and the only way was to buy an aquarium, set it up and fill it with fish before we returned. And that is exactly what he did.

Personally, I was delighted. He took good care of those fish and maintained the filters and everything else required. He also had some quite exotic species in there. He quickly learned which fish would be amicable and which fish would devour each other. And when he moved out on his own he took the aquarium with him.

When I visited Winnipeg last summer, he had just acquired a second aquarium, larger than the first one. You guessed it! All those fish are my grandchildren…….my grandfishies!

When I returned to Winnipeg two years ago for surgery, I babysat my other grandchildren while my daughter Kimmy was away. Tigger and Tessa were so affectionate. They loved to cuddle and were great company. 

I have yet to meet my third grandkitty. My daughter lives in Ontario now and Jimmy came into her life about three months ago. What a sweetheart! I can hardly wait to meet her!

The more conventional grandchildren in my life really are children! When I lived in Culiacan three years ago, Juan and Lucila literally adopted me into their family. At the time they had one child, Juan Carlos. He calls me his Canadian abuelita. The family expanded with the birth of Jose Agustin two years ago. 

And as I write this, we are excitedly awaiting the arrival of a third child due this month!

I love all my grandchildren and I am truly blessed to have grandfishies, grandkitties and nietos in my life!

 

It’s taken months, but I finally have my residente temporal status. I can legally work in Mexico. I can open a bank account. I can obtain health insurance. I can get a card offering discounts to seniors. I can stay here in Mexico without having to leave the country every six months.

But what an ordeal! When the new government changed all the laws in November 2012, the process became more complicated instead of simplified as promised. Piles of notarized documents were only the beginning. Thank God for FedEx!!!!!

Next came the many visits to Immigration by the director of the school where I teach. Then came the wait for the approval from Immigration in Mexico City. And weeks later the notice came that I had fifteen days to report to a Mexican consulate outside of the country.

I chose to go to McAllen, Texas as I had been there before when my tourist visa had run out back in April. I boarded an overnight bus bound for Monterrey, Nuevo Leon. ETN luxury buses are quite comfortable. I watched a movie, listened to some music and slept most of the way. In Monterrey I then took another bus to McAllen via Reynosa, Tamaulipas. After a long wait on the bridge at the border, I breezed through U.S.A. Immigration and was soon in McAllen and on my way to the Mexican Consulate.

Upon my arrival at the consulate, there were more documents and more photos required. And I was told to return the following day for an interview.

By then it was mid-afternoon and the Texas heat and humidity was taking its toll on me. I checked into a hotel, jumped in the shower and collapsed on the bed in my air-conditioned room.

A few hours later, I set out to explore and ate dinner at a restaurant nearby.  I then went for a long walk before returning to my hotel room to watch a movie.

The following morning I had breakfast at the hotel and returned to the consulate. After another photo session and fingerprinting, it was time for the never ending interview. The only comment I have for that is that when it was finally over, the officer said to me “This has been a successful interview. Congratulations!”

As the official document that was required to be stamped into my passport would not be ready until later in the afternoon, I headed for the mall. The locals all told me how “huge” this mall was and I was quite disappointed when I got there. La Plaza Mall is a typical small American mall and I much prefer the malls we have here in Guadalajara. But I did have a few hours to kill, so I wandered in and out of stores and made use of the food court at lunchtime.

I returned to the consulate to pick up my passport after lunch. I then headed back to the bus station to return to Mexico. At the border I was given a 30 day tourist visa upon presentation of the visa imprinted in my passport.

Back in Guadalajara, I went to Immigration to apply for the necessary work visa. I was inundated with more documents to fill out. One of these was to be completed on the computer  in the Immigration office,and it was out of commission that day.

Totally overwhelmed by all these new forms, I took the list of requirements and haled the first bus back to Tlaquepaque. I needed time to process all this unexpected flurry of required information. McAllen had assured me that I would just have to exchange the visa for a card. I was not prepared for the mountains of additional paperwork. 

One of the documents was for payment of fees for the visa. I had already paid a fee in Texas, and now there was an additional fee here in Mexico. In Texas it took two minutes by credit card. In Guadalajara it took ninety-two minutes; three lineups, three staff and a multitude of forms. And of course cash only.

Once I had completed all the forms, there were all the required photocopies to contend with. And then more mug shots to be taken.

I arrived back at Immigration and was delighted to discover that the computer was working properly. I finally got to speak to an officer who declared that all my papers were in order. Interestingly enough, most of the photocopies apparently were not even necessary. But I now had the coveted number and password to check the progress of my status on the internet. And I had it within the 30 day time period allowed after visiting a consulate outside of the country. And I do understand why you are given 30 days……you need them!

I checked the status on the internet periodically, but all it told me was that the visa was being processed. And then at 10:58 pm on a Monday night I received an email advising that I had forty-eight hours to go to Immigration to be fingerprinted. And only two more forms as well as mug shots were required!

The next morning I headed for Immigration, as it was my day off. One lineup to check in and a second one to get fingerprinted. And it turns out that the forms were not even needed, just the photos. I was then told to return in five days to pick up my card.

So six days later I arrive at Immigration, eagerly anticipating picking up my card. Instead I am given a slip of paper with a phone number and told to call before I return. And the voice on the other end of the phone line speaks only Spanish, and speaks very quickly. I passed the phone number on to the director of the school where I teach. For two days she called that number. Each time she was greeted by a recording that there was no-one available to take the call. I decided to just go there and hope for the best.

I will not put into writing what transpired at that last visit to Immigration. Suffice it to say that I finally left the building with my green card. The process began in March and was completed in time for Mexican Independence Day in September.

 

 

People often ask me why I never write about my marriage. The answer is really quite simple. I prefer to write about positive aspects of my life. There is nothing to be gained by focusing on the negative. 

Today is August 18, 2014 and it’s just over five and a half years since my marriage ended. And these five and a half years have flown by way too quickly.

In a nutshell, I got married too young and for all the wrong reasons. I became “Mrs. Husband”, totally losing my identity and along with it my self-esteem and my self-confidence. Throughout the  years, I lived my life vicariously through my children. And when they grew up and no longer required my constant attention, I hit rock bottom. I was bored and unhappy, a very dangerous combination. So dangerous in fact, that I attempted to take my own life more than once in the last four years of my marriage. My psychiatrist strongly urged me to leave that unhealthy relationship. He told me repeatedly that pills were not the answer to my quest for happiness.

Today I am high all the time……………on life! I am in charge. I make the decisions. I need only assume responsibility for MY actions. I am no longer a shadow but instead am in the spotlight. I am immensely enjoying my newly found freedom and my independence. I revel in my accomplishments since I have been on my own. I have published a book. I have had two successful total knee replacement surgeries. I have embarked on a new career, moved to Mexico, learned a new language and immersed myself in a new culture. I have met some amazing people along the way and have had some awesome adventures. And this is what I prefer to write about.

Of course there were happy times in my marriage. I will not deny that I do have some fond memories. However it goes without saying that the highlight of my marriage was the birth of my two children, the loves of my life. And I enjoy writing about them. They are my pride and joy and are often included in my blog posts.

As for me, I continue to grow. I am stronger and happier than I have been in years. I now focus on the present and the future, and have left the negativity in the past where it belongs.

I am Alive Again! This is coincidentally the title of my second book to be published in 2015.

 

A Thursday in July dawned bright and sunny, a rare occurrence here in the rainy season. I flagged down a bus and headed towards Centro Guadalajara. Just past Parque De Revolucion, I arrived at the Museo De Las Artes.

The gallery was rather small as the exhibits were limited to only part of the main floor. However, to my surprise there was no admission charge.

I admired the murals of Orozco on a previous visit to Hospicio Cabanas and I went to the Orozco display first. The mural on the domed ceiling was amazing but very difficult to photograph due to the sunlight streaming in through the window.

There was also another magnificent mural displayed on a wall.

 

I then ventured into the Permanancia Y Lo Transitorio area. The art on these walls ranged from modern to bizarre to absolutely ugly. In all honesty, I did not find any of them to be impressive. Here are just a few………….

 

What is your opinion?

Outside once again, I passed through the Rambla Cataluna. This walkway was marked by several tiny fountains.

Alongside of this walkway, a brightly painted mural was a prominent feature on a building.

I continued my walk and soon arrived at the Templo Expiatorio. Work on this amazing Gothic church began in 1897 but was not completed until 1972. 

Most impressive are the magnificent pillars, beautiful stained glass windows and ornate statues found inside.

A plaza next to the church had a fountain and  was a lovely respite from the noisy traffic on the other streets bordering the Expiatorio.

There was also a scattering of vendors selling handcrafted items as well as religious articles.

The low battery warning on my iPhone was now flashing red at me from all the pictures I had taken,  signalling that my exploration was done for the day. Reluctantly I flagged down a Tur bus and headed for home.