In 2013 I was struggling with a reduced income given that the temporary supervisor and one of her coworkers appeared to have it in for me. A new inexperienced worker, a male in his thirties suddenly had five clients to work with. I, an experienced and highly skilled worker who had been there already for almost a decade, but now well into my fifties, suddenly had at best one client to work with, following a usual average of five clients. Fortunately I was in the process of getting hired by another team that works with people with co-occurring disorders, addictions and mental health, and gradually my income began to go up. Unfortunately, my situation at the other team has not changed significantly and I have little doubt that even after my usual supervisor returned nothing significant really changed. The other young fellow left the team and another inexperienced and unskilled thirty-something male replaced him. He now has five clients. I still have only one.
Despite my lowered revenue I budgeted very carefully and strictly. I had to give up certain luxuries, especially cocoa made from scratch every morning, because my weight had ballooned to over 250 lbs. I am not able to calculate the metric for weight. I was seeing a doctor at the community clinic and put myself on a diet. I have lost almost thirty pounds, by the way, I am able to tie my shoes without asphyxiating and my knees and feet no longer hurt. I also look a lot better.
In 2011 I finally got a home phone and internet. At that time I was financially flush and was very weary from using public internet services, primarily in the public library. It was often difficult finding a quiet place where no one was shouting next to me, even though the availability of free internet was a great boon to me. It was confrontation with one particularly rude woman in a branch public library (I had to call security to get her off my case) that convinced me that I was ready for my own laptop, which I bought on installments. This having my own internet at home has done a lot to help stabilize my life, make it easier to stay in contact with others, do internet research, watch videos in Spanish and write this blog.
Those reading this series of blog posts will probably notice that my life seems to have become more stable and less interesting since I found stable housing. I am not complaining. In order to work well and to keep my job I have to lay low, rest, take care of myself and do everything necessary to keep my ducks in a row.
I did make it to Mexico again in March of 2013. I will conclude this post with some of my travel journal:
Mar 12, 2013
I went to Coyoacan and stayed there for the afternoon. I haven´t had a lot of energy after a touch of intestinal stuff but mild this time and I took some electrolytes just in case. I´m working now on my fourth drawing still using the colour scheme of opals. The worst part of the day was getting back on the Metro. No matter how packed it was more people, especially testosterone charged young males kept pushing themselves on and I think there was a major safety hazard. There is no one around to regulate overcrowding unfortunately. And there are no facilities for people with disabilities. There is no elevator. I saw a man in a wheel chair get lifted up some thirty or more steps by three young men.
And I walked slowly down the stairs just in front of an elderly woman struggling down with a cane. This city is so overcrowded that people turn into trapped animals here and on the motorways. Survival of the fittest I guess. Not my idea of quality of life. I appreciate more each time I´m here how good we have it in Canada despite our lovely climate.
Speaking of traffic, two evenings ago in the lobby I heard an older pommy Brit whine miserably to one of the staff, in impeccable Oxbridge English of course about the dreadful traffic driving out to the pyramids and back and how impossible it is to drive anywhere in the city. You know the kind I mean. Sounds a lot like Prime Minister David Cameron and probably also attended Eton or more likely a slightly lesser boarding school. In which case with his (alleged) money why is he staying in a budget hotel?
But here I digress. I said to him, ¨Have you ever thought of taking the Metro?¨´ He replied Öh, is that one of the motorways? Where would I find it?¨¨ I said, Ït´s the subway. It´s very efficient.¨ He said emphatically, ¨But I want to drive around while I´m here.¨ So I told him in my best Gutterpunk, ¨Dude! You´re in Mexico City! You don´t want to drive HERE!¨ Ah, the sweet little smile the hotel staff guy gave me.
The hotel was packed this morning which made breakfast noisy and very unpleasant so I bolted down my food and bolted out of here. I have to admit I´m getting bored with the food here and kind of anxous to get home though I still feel entranced by the haunting beauty and sheer scale of Mexico City. I didn´t go far, just did a coffee shop hop throughout the day working on drawing number eight. Much of Reforma was closed for bikes and pedestrians today and the book fair was incredibly busy. Everyone reads in this city, it seems, and I don´t mean Kindle. In the parks in Condesa all the yuppies were out with their little and big dogs (all pure bred of course). In the two parks there are dog training schools with as many as sixty or seventy pooches lying around ready to be taught to behave. For me, not being a dog-lover, it´s hard to understand why people would pour out so much fuss and love (not to mention money which I think could be better spent) over an animal, especially given the absolute inconvenience of having a dog in a densely populated city. It reminds me of Vancouver where there is this constant tension between dog people and no-dog people and I try to stay neutral except when it comes to vicious animals and dog shit on the sidewalk.But I still like friendly dogs and I will always stop to pet a dog that wants to be petted. There were bagpipe players in Parque Mexico today. Two men with bagpipes and a woman and two men with drums. No mariachi or merengue rhythms here and not even cumbia (hmmm..bagpipe cumbia, now there is a concept), just pure Scottish Highlands. They were not wearing kilts.
Mar 29, 2013
It is la madrugada as we call it in Spanish, the dark hours after midnight before the dawn. I went to bed shortly past eight last night and will try to retire earlier tonight in preparation for my early flight home in la madrugada of Easter Sunday. So far so good. This has been for me an intense, deeply meaningful and I hope life-transforming Lent while away here in Mexico City. Some of you have commented or expressed concern of what a difficult vacation I have been having. For me this has been only part of a necessary life-training and formation in my life of discipleship. You see, I believe strongly now as I did when I booked my flight last fall that God was calling me here. Partly it was to improve my Spanish, partly for time to rest, take long walks, spend time reading and in my art work in cafes, but primarily to pray, think, reflect, contemplate and accept the challenges of a still unfamiliar environment as part of my own formation of my life into the character of Christ. The risks, to my health and personal safety, have been miniscule compared to what I feel I have learned from my time here and I deeply hope that I can present to all of you when I have returned Easter Sunday and after a further transformed and renewed Aaron and I hope a more Christ-like and more loving Aaron.
I intend to visit the cathedral here today to witness in part the observances of Good Friday. I am intrigued by the intense Catholic heritage of Mexico. I also find it puzzling and somewhat bedevilling. It has long, and remains still, my view that Mexico and Latin America in general, has been subjected to a particularly degraded and corrupt form of Christianity, the Catholicism of the Spanish Inquisition, and the absolute pillage and destruction of entire peoples and cultures that resulted have absolutely nothing to do with the One who still hangs on the cross in their churches and everything to do with those who nailed him there. I have previously expresssed here my discomfort with being in the neighbourhood of the cathedral and the historic centre for this reason, and that for me the cries for vindication of the blood of the victims of the Aztec sacrifices are mingled together with the cries of the slaughtered victims of Spaniard soldiers and priests and their howl of outrage still sounds in the silence of this dawn of Good Friday. It will be interesting to see what, if any steps, the church and the Mexican government will take to express repentance and offer reparation to the damage that still festers here.
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