Morocco! For One Year.

I have become a pirate. We sail the high seas for Morocco at daybreak!

After fielding offers from Alaska, Paris, and Spain, I have decided:
MOROCCO. FOR ONE YEAR.
Wait, no, that's not entirely accurate. Let's try again.
BOLIVIA. FOR ONE MONTH.
No wait! MEXICO. FOR ANOTHER YEAR.
Or...PERU. FOR ONE WEEK.
No, no, that's not going to work. Ok.
AUSTRALIA. FOR SIX MONTHS.
And then there's always...CHINA. FOR THREE MONTHS.

I hope you can sense the petulant ambiguity of my situation. The precarious instability. THE COMPLETE AND UTTER LACK OF CERTITUDE! Which is nice, because the future is full of possibility, but horrible because the future is occurring as we speak. Did I just blow your mind? Well, that's in the past now. In fact, I wouldn't spend anymore of your future reading this. TOO LATE! You might as well just stop thinking about it now, or you'll end up where I am, paralyzed with indecision.

All of the above have been viable options at one stage or another. However time, unforeseen occurrence, and erroneous plane fares on Kayak have led to my current state. I fully expect to be on my way somewhere by March, it's just a matter of exactly where and when. Of course, I long for Mexico, but I also want to challenge myself with something new before returning to my tropical cocoon of Oaxacan goodness. I also intend to keep using this blog as a virtual buoy to tether myself to reality wherever I may roam.

The only constant seems to be my perpetual state of frozen hands and arctic feet, treatable only by living in a subtropical zone. All in all, it doesn't really matter where I go. As long as I'm serving Jehovah wherever I am, as well as I can, that's good enough for me, and I reckon it's good enough for him. And if I ever start to forget that, I must remember the sage wisdom of Penny Lane:

Never take [yourself] seriously. If you never take [yourself] seriously, you never get hurt. If you never get hurt, you always have fun. And if you ever get lonely, just go to the [Kingdom Hall] and visit your friends.

The Hills Are Alive With The Sound of Bleating

Make a difference. Adopt a goat today.

I decided if I were to make any progress in my "speaking-in-the-present-tense-with-some-creative-adjectives-and-made-up-verbs" Spanish-speaking abilities I would have to apply myself a bit more, hence accompanying the Lazaro Spanish congregation to the mountains to preach. 

One little, two little, three little Mexicans, four little, five--GAAAAAAHHH!!!

 CLASS FIVE GRANDOTA ALERT!

This is not an optical illusion, people. This is Mother Nature's anomalies at their finest. Ah, I love that sister. Almost as much as she loved that goat.

We piled into a collectivo and took the windy, vomitrocious road to the mountains. You can see the brothers placidly hanging out the back of the collectivo. What you didn't see was THIS!:

Ahhahah, I caught Raul in the middle of a story looking positively batty. I have never laughed so much as in that car ride. There's something about only understanding two-thirds of what's being said, having people fly off seats and into your lap, and capturing pictures of people looking like escaped Tyrannosaurs that really gets hilarious.

We searched hill and dale to find interested persons, which turned out to be almost everyone. I was able to sit with an illiterate, aged woman and teach her some Bible truths. She gave us all she had to sit on, a bucket and a broken stool. She was absolutely delighted to learn God has a name, tears welled to her eyes as we talked to her. At another door a man offered us seats and told us how he was studying the Bible in the United States but now didn't know how he would continue, considering he was living on the outskirts of nowhere. After speaking for 20 minutes, he was like, "Oh...I speak English." What are the odds? I can tell you. Not very high. Anyway, since I wasn't able to come back the Lazaro cong is going to come back and take care of every one. Well, I mean, not like they have a choice, Jehovah is just making sure we find everyone who's looking for him, isn't he?

After a long morning we feasted on chicken soup...chicken and water, baby, spiced up with lime and salt. I made tortillas. No, I tried to make tortillas...I promise I can do it while I'm alone, but under the watchful eyes of my miniature jefe (behind me) you can see why mine came out like sheets of shameful swiss cheese.

Everyone who picked up a deformed tortilla threw their heads back in laughter at my handiwork. They still tasted good, OKAY? Where I come from, tortillas grow out of plastic packages...

Goats - The portable friend you can eat.

My next Latin American quest will likely be in Spanish, so I need keep it up. If anyone wants to watch movies in Spanish with me, or sing Enrique Iglesias songs with me, or carry me around like a goat, give me a ring. 

Surprise!

I'm back in San Diego. 

I'm also experimenting with a new blog template. 

I'm not sure which one you should be more excited about. You can play around with the dynamic templates and see what you like...change is good...at least that's what I keep telling myself.

Lots of pictures and stories from the last few months; I intend on revealing them all spontaneously in the near future, if you're allowed to plan something like that.

La Familia, Al Fin

Greetings. My family visited in ahem, JUNE; it is now October; so apparently we are looking at a 3-4 month lead time between events actually happening and me recording them. But it's past midnight on a Friday night, which is an ideal time for catching up on all things we haven't got time for. Ready? Behold! Above. The shanty hut that housed my brethen.

 Look familar? It's the same palace the Fleets stayed at. Also possibly Rock Hudson, and Cleopatra.

 Hermanas! Reunited! Ah, how good and pleasant it is for sisters to dwell together on brightly colored couches. We quickly assumed our familiar positions...horizontal, reading.

I was engrossed in Mark Helprin and Paul in Zane Grey, not sure was Tara was onto, possibly an instructional booklet on impersonating Rosie the Riveter.

When reading became too strenuous we climbed inside tires. Well, Bronnie and I did; Melika floated atop a raft of luxuriousness.

 My whole family hopped on my bike; even good ol' daddio. My mom had the first honors; in the dark; in the rain; over the river and through the woods, on a mission to get soy milk we go! Props, Mom.

 Beaching at Carrazilillo, the enchanted cove of delight. Tara looking riveting. 

Mis padres. Ridiculously good looking, these two. 

 Lots of rain; but volleyball carried on. 

 Fishing was fruitful. We all caught fish. Mario, our driver, caught a turtle. 

And released it, of course.

My mom caught a fish. And...a bird, pictured above. Repeatedly. The feeble-minded creature would keep taking the bait, flap about until it detached itself, then do a recovery lap and come back for another nibble. If he weren't so stupid, he would have been talented. 

Not counting the bird and sea turtle, we still did alright.

We also discovered Monopoly Deal, a way faster and more fun version of regular Monopoly. I highly encourage you to pick your set up today, we found ours for $2.44 in the Target bargain bin. Watch out for Dealbreakers and players trying to "pull a Helen".

Ze laughing lovers were reunited with the land of their love. It's been two years since these simple days. Oh the things that we have lost; oh the things that we have gained! 

Time went swiftly. We basically just basked in the others' company and ate lots and lots of tacos. Which is a pretty ideal holiday, if you ask me.

Of course, there was the occasional Mexican mishap; like one taco outing, where assorted female drivers drove themselves into sink holes and had to be hoisted out by these strapping young lads.

Ah, a splendid time was guaranteed for all, and indeed, it was had. A few aunts, uncles, a cousin and some grandparents were missing, but otherwise it was close to perfect.

Let's see what country I can lure my family members to next.