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Last night, while watching the fire on the mountain, we tried to take pictures of it. Unfortunately the camera would not zoom in that far. We did shoot some video of it though. It isn't very good (sorry) and I am sure that you can get much better pictures from any news source at the moment. However, I thought I would upload the bit we took.
The fire is the red bit!
My mum's (and actually mine as well) favourite subject, when she was at school was history This she would tell us often. We (her caring, loving children) would tell her that it was her fave because it was so easy - she was so old that history hadn't happened! Of course this ageist-cruelty was (because god is like that) bound to catch me up. Last week I was teaching Scientific Notation to a class of ten year olds. I was asked, as I am often asked, by a kid why, they had to learn it (this is a fairly regular question in mathematics lessons) and (for once) I had an answer that satisfied (as opposed to "because I said so"): You want to learn how to use a calculator? You want to be able to deal with really, really big numbers? You want to learn how to be accurate to the tiniest degree? Then Scientific Notation is the way to go! And so I was stuck in a classroom with a bunch of ten year olds dealing with numbers that ranged from huge (quadrillions? zillons?) to tiny (24 places behind a decimal point) and I started to realise the futility and stupidity of it all. Yes, they do need to know how to write a number in Scientific Notation but they really don't understand what they are doing. Does a ten year old really understand a number bigger than 100? Hell, I'm not really sure that I can deal with the concept of a number bigger than 100,000 - as a concept.
When I was ten I learned how to use a slide rule - it was something that I learned to do outside of school (I was a bit of a geek) - but a slide rule was only good for numbers up to three digits big and even then wasn't that accurate. Logarithmic tables were good for four digit figures but I didn't get my first calculator (and I was one of the first children in my class to get a calculator) until I was 13. It was called a "pocket calculator" but 'desktop' would have been a better description of its size. I didn't use a computer until I was 20 - that's use! The University I was at had five computers!!! I didn't own a computer until I was 22. Didn't have a phone in the house I lived in, after I left Uni, for a couple of years. I remember having to run up the street to a call box to inform the hospital that I was bringing in my wife (at the time) for the birth of our second child. Didn't get a mobile phone (brick) until I was 34, didn't have an email address until I was 38. The majority of 12 year olds I know have mobiles, email addresses, myspace pages and their own computer.
Five years after Einstein published the theory of relativity only four people (only four) in the whole world understood it. It was just so mind-bogglingly different that the world's greatest minds couldn't come to terms with it. Now, 50+ years later I can quite casually explain that the "faster you go, the fatter you get" as an explanation of the theory as relativity (the faster you go, the more places you are in time - hence the fatter you are) that a ten year old can grasp the idea.
There are days that I look at the children in my classroom and wonder. I wonder when did our brains change? When did we suddenly discover the ability to cram so much more information into our minds? My grandpa was not a stupid man but I know that he couldn't deal with the world as it is today - hell, the first time he saw a motor car it had a man walking in front of it with a red flag warning people not to jump out in front of it!
There are days when I look around my classroom with awe. I don't think that when I was ten I had enough about me to live in this world, to cope with the amount of information we throw at children today. And yet, tomorrow I will sit in a classroom and teach ten year olds about Greatest Common Factors and Lowest Common Multiples and I will do it all in English. To a class of Mexicans. And on Thursday I will test them on it.
Makes me think.
The wind died down last night and the sky cleared. You could see all the way across the city from our balcony. In the far distance you could see the hills across the border, in the United States.
At 1:30am we were stood on the balcony watching the fires as they swept down the side of the hill. What had started as a red glow on the horizon became a wall of fire that climbed over the edge of the hill and down the side. As a growing semi-circle the fire quickly ate its way down and then stopped. Whether the fire had run out of fuel or it had been extinguished we will never know but within ten minutes the whole display was over.
Oddly, for the first time in 36 hours the whole city did not smell of smoke. It was as though, with visual confirmation of what is happening less than ten miles away, our sense of smell did not need to remind us.
This morning the wind is blowing again. It is "bin day" and people have put there rubbish outside their front doors for the binmen to collect. However, the binmen will not have to stop outside every house today, jut drive to the end of the street where the wind has piled all the garbage up against the wall.
I am not at work. I will not be at work tomorrow. All the schools in Tijuana have been closed for two days.
Normally this would be a moment of happiness, a moment of joy. Two days off work! I have mentioned before that I have been told that when it rains they sometimes shut the schools. This, however, is an event that has not happened in the two years I have been teaching. I am assured that it is true but I am starting to think that it is an urban myth - or at least a bit like a "snow day" in England: you know that in theory it might happen it is just that in practice it doesn't! But today (and tomorrow) the schools are shut - because the wind is blowing! Well, not just because of the wind.
Two weeks ago the temperature turned from being in the mid 30s to being in the mid teens. It was cold at night (single figures), blankets were put on the bed and I could occasionally be found wearing a hoody. Last week it all changed back. The thermometer started to rise. But this was a different type of heat, it was a dry heat. There is always dust in Tijuana, with no grass to hold the soil on the ground and bare mountains surrounding the city, there is always a slight feeling of grittiness to the ground. This grittiness has now risen to the air. Normally when I look out from our balcony I can see the other side of the city, now I can't. There is a thin haze of dust filling the air. The sun is in the sky but you can look at it directly as it appears weakly, almost like the moon. The Santana is blowing.
The Santana is a hot, dry wind that carries all before it. In the morning the balcony is covered in a thin layer of dust, around the bottom of the doors there are sand drifts. Minutes after stepping out the door you feel gritty. Your throat is dry and raspy, your face is covered in a layer of grime, your hands feel dirty (and are dirty - sometimes I feel a bit OCD, washing my hands every hour just to get them clean). But The Santana also means one other thing - it is "fire season". Although there is little grass there is a lot of brush. Across the border, in San Diego, there are huge forested areas. It has rained once since March.
Last night I though, for a second, it was snowing. I was on the balcony, wearing black trousers and within seconds they were covered in a thin layer of white. But the smell gave it away. It wasn't snow, it was ash. San Diego is burning - not the city but the surrounding areas. The whole of Tijuana smelt of smoke. This morning all the schools were closed. The air quality is so poor that children are to be kept inside.
Normally, two days off work would be a moment of joy, however, two days, trapped inside a house with the smell of smoke reminding you that outside people are fighting for their lives. Two days trapped inside because the very air is unbreathable is a bit scary.
The alarm goes off. I cuddle up to her body. I love her. I need her. I want her.
I go out for a cigarette. I come back to bed. I hold her warm body against mine. I love her. I need her. I want her.
I shower. We do the dance. She dresses. I dress. We prepare to leave. My mind drops into school mode. We drive to work. We arrive. I kiss her. She kisses me. I don't want to leave the car. I love her. I need her. I want her.
I go into school. I prepare for lessons. I organise what I am going to do. There is a five minute window before the kids arrive. I go outside and text her. I tell her I love her. I need her. I want her.
I teach. There are moments in lessons when everything falls quiet - kids are working, my job is on hold. I think of her. I love her. I need her I want her.
The day progresses. At times I think of her. At times I am teaching. At times my world is full of problems. And then there are the quiet moments. The moments when I think of her. I love her. I need her. I want her.
She picks me up from school. We kiss. We talk about our day. I know she has been alone. She thinks of me. She loves me. She needs me. She wants me.
We get home. I should be with her but my mind is still racing. I have to find my reset button. I hate these moments. We should be together. We should be but I'm in a limbo-zone. My mind is thinking about this, that, the other. We are home and yet I am not totally there. It takes time. Time to find my centre, time to get me home, time to find myself in her arms.
I love her. I need her. I want her.
I'm home.
[WARNING: this post contains a discussion about sport. Sorry.]
On Friday night, somewhere near the beginning of the hot date - I got a phone call informing me that Santos Laguna had lost. This was bad news for several reasons:
1) we were on a date and didn't need bad news
b) Santos hadn't lost a game all season
and on the other hand it was the beginning of an important sporting weekend
At the beginning of the date we had spent time sat in the car, waiting at the border, and I had read some of Fever Pitch to Maria. The book is about one man's obsession with supporting a football team and how this obsession has formulated some of the author's [Nick Hornby] thinking about how he lives his life. The passage I read to Maria included a section that explained how, when friends saw results or news of the Hornby's team, they would contact him. In some ways his obsession kept him alive in the minds of his friends. An hour and a half later this was proved to be the case for me. Santos lose and I get a phone call! I pointed this fact out to Maria, she smiled at me and we continued on our hot date. I didn't point out another fact that I had learned from reading Fever Pitch.
I believe that life has some sort of balance, I suppose I believe in karma. I am not saying that for every good thing there is always a bad thing because I don't believe that life is just average. I truly believe that life is good, the balance point for my life is good - not great but not average and definitely not bad. I pootle through my days, enjoying life. At some points there are moments of great happiness and joy, other times things go wrong. Mainly, though, if things are on an even keel, I am happy, my life is good. But, this I know, when something happens that is very good there will be a low point somewhere along the horizon. For example: if we arrive at the end of the month with money left over in the bank account I know that there is a bill in the post. It's little things, I am talking about, I'm not saying that a hot date that was wonderful means that tomorrow I am going to lose a limb!
One of the daft things about me (and it appears Nick Hornby) is that I play this game, of checks and balances, about sporting results in my mind. The thing that I didn't tell Maria when we got the phone call was that, although I was a bit down about Santos losing, I had already made a deal with the god of sports when I heard the result.
Let me try to explain how it worked [in my mind]:
Santos have lost 3-1.
England are playing football tomorrow against Estonia.
England are playing France tomorrow in the semi-finals of the World Cup.
Ok god of sport - I will take a loss from Santos but I will exchange it for a win against France. You (god of sport) can make up your own mind about the footy match - although a win there would be nice as well.
Saturday morning, Mexico, and the England football match is being televised live. Unfortunately it kicks off at 7am our time. It is Saturday morning and I want to stay in bed! Eventually I drag my body into the television room to see that England are 3-0 up at half-time. I watch the second half and no goals are scored. In my mind I am happy - the first part of the deal with the god of sport seems to working. England win the footy but with no mental energy exercised by me. The bit that I watched there were no goals scored, they won without my help! In my mind (favourite expression for this post) I could now put all my mental energy into England winning the rugby and getting through to the World Cup Final!
We settle down to watch the rugby - also being televised live, 12pm our time. Maria has never watched rugby before, doesn't understand the game. Within two minutes England have scored a try and are five points in the lead. Within ten minutes of the game starting, although professing an interest in the obvious homo-erotic qualities of the game, Maria is asleep and I am left to watch on my own. Watch and sweat.
England don't play particularly well, France aren't much better but with fifteen minutes of the game to go England are losing 8-9 and don't look like winning. With Maria asleep it is time to talk to the god of sport:
Look, Santos lost yesterday. I didn't want Santos to lose but you, in your infinite wisdom decided to let it happen. I'm not going to argue with you. Santos have a good run, an excellent run and for that I thank you. However, on Monday I have to go into school. On Monday everyone is going to be picking on me. I admit I deserve it, I might have been a bit over zealous in my support of Santos and rubbed a couple of people's faces in the crapness of the team that they support. But you have to give me something. The footy win was nice but this, a win against France, a win in the semi-finals, this would cover everything horrible that is going to happen on Monday. Please, please, please - let them win!
England win! Jonny Wilkinson kicks a penalty, drops a goal and France batter the English line ineffectually for ten minutes (that feel like a lifetime). England win - Santos lose. All checks and balances are back in place. Life is good.
Oh, yeah. I know that some of you are thinking that this proves that life is just average because I lost one and won one but....the main rivals of Santos (Atlante) also lost on Saturday. Santos are still top of the league, still two points clear of their rivals and England are in the final of the World Cup. Life is good!
[Well done Croila if you got this far!]
It takes us an hour and a half to cross the border. We sit in the car, slowly inching forward, and I read to Maria. When we finally get to the border guard he asks us where we are going. I listen intently, I have no idea. Maria tells him that we are on a date so probably a movie, probably a meal, you know "date type stuff". She doesn't mention a night-club which is good because I haven't put on my dancing-pants!
Once across the border we drive to the Palm Promenade Mall, park the car and wander towards the cinema. I look at the films showing, see that the new Elizabeth film is out, 2:10 to Yuma is showing, couple of other films also. Maria gets two tickets to see Michael Clayton. Michael Clayton? Never heard of it. However, I am just a date, it isn't my place to say anything. She mumbles something about George Clooney and the guy who wrote the Bourne franchise.
The film doesn't start for another hour and a half so we decide to wander around Wall*Mart. Back out in the car park we can't find the car at first. A short drive over, park the car again and into the shop. The mistake was in grabbing a trolley! We wander round the shop, dropping stuff in - stuff that we didn't know we really, really needed and really, really wanted. I get a phone call. It appears that Santos has just lost their first game of the season and Rene just had to phone me. He knew I was on a date, he knew that the news would upset us both, but he had to phone me. The news doesn't ruin anything! We are on a date!
At the checkout we take stuff out of the trolley, piling it up on the conveyor belt, asking each other: "did you put this in here?" The good news is we now have enough crap to keep us going until Christmas (or at least until Sunday). Back out in the car park we can't find the car at first.
Back to the cinema and I am bought a large diet Coke and get to share a large bag of popcorn. The cinema is empty and we get seats with maximum legroom. Maria plonks the popcorn on my lap and says: "Here, make a hole in the bottom of the bag and let me ferret around for popcorn." The trailers come on for the upcoming films. At the end of the first one we turn to look at each other, there are tears in our eyes. The next two trailers affect us both the same way - it appears that the next month is going to be filled with films about people's partners dying.
And then Michael Clayton starts. The film is superb. It is everything I like in a film. Well acted, well written, treats me as an intelligent human being. George Clooney is wonderful and Tom Wilkinson is amazing! We walk out into the car park, still slightly buzzed about what we have seen - I am talking about the film, Maria is ecstatic that she found a film that I loved so much. She is wonderful. We stand in the car park, looking for the car. We've lost it again.
Onto Uno for a meal. There are so many luvverly things on the menu. Maria asks me what I might have and I tell her that I might have this or that or this thing or maybe this thing and when the waiter comes to take our order she says to him: "He'll have the steak." I love her, she knows me - and yes, I am that boringly predictable! The meal is wonderful, the company is beautiful, intelligent and charming. A couple of hours pass and then we find ourselves back in the car park, stood next to the car, we found it first time!
Back home we climb the stairs to our flat, struggling with shopping bags full of crap. Inside we dump the bags on the floor. We leave them there, we'll unpack in the morning. At the moment we are still on a date and it is time for that goodnight kiss.
Wednesday: I didn't sleep much last night - got in about four hours. This cough is driving me crazy. I have a teacher who is so bad that his class would do better if he weren't even in the room (you get these moments when he is still talking and the kids want to work and he won't let them). We have Dani and Nikos for the week and the flat is a mess. I'm at school, preparing to teach a lesson, a lesson that will be observed by the crap teacher, so that he can see how it is possible to do more than one question in an hour's lesson (actually so that he can see that a lesson should start on time not 24 minutes after it was supposed to start). My mobile vibrates in my pocket. I have a text message.
Hey hot thing? Doing anything Friday night?
I try to think forward, get my mind off teaching seven year olds subtraction, get my mind into gear. Friday night? I was going to go home, change into my pyjamas, grab a blanket, lie in front of the television, watch Santos play, fall asleep and not get up until Monday morning. I text back.
Checking my rolodex. Looks fairly empty for Friday.
Send the message. Go teach. Ten minutes into the lesson my pocket vibrates again. I ignore it and keep teaching. At the end of the lesson I am exhausted but happy. The children have done a ten minute review of yesterday's lesson, watched as I have done several examples on the board, learnt how to use a number line to subtract, done 20 questions in their books, had those marked, finished by playing with two dice and making their own subtraction questions. It was a great lesson. The teacher is sat at the back of the class, almost in tears. He is destroyed and distraught. I tell him we will talk at recess and go off to my Sixth Grade lesson. Check my mobile.
Can I take you out for a hot date?
I go through Prime Factorisation with the sixth grade. I teach it in a totally different way to the method in the book. They like my method, it makes sense to them and by the end of the lesson they are are finding it easy. Time to move on to the Fifth Grade and divisibility rules. I text back.
I'll pencil you in.
Got me a hot date on Friday night! Suddenly I feel a lot less tired. Suddenly my cough isn't as bad as it was. I walk with a bounce in my step. Got me a hot date on Friday night!!
Lorenia: Are you feeling better Mr. Kay?
Me: Yes, thank you. I'm feeling better, however I'm still not well.
Lorenia: I don't understand.
Me: I'm feeling better than I did yesterday but I'm still ill.
Lorenia: Why are you feeling better?
Me: I went to bed last night at 8:15. Got a good night's sleep.
Lorenia: Did your girlfriend service you?
Me: Pardon?
Lorenia: Did our girlfriend service you last night? When you went to bed?
Me: Errrrrrmmmmm?
Lorenia: I don't mean service do I? I mean some other word.
Me: I hope so.
They won't sell us a car! We've gone to the dealership, we've explained what we want and they won't sell us a car!
The car is buggered - that's the technical term. When it came back from the crash it was perfect - we had two weeks of incident free driving - the car ran wonderfully and all was right with the world. Then the stereo packed in, just stopped playing. Maria is a great believer in feng shui, she believes that inanimate objects conspire with each other to either provide a happy environment or an environment that is going to cause you problems. As far as the car is concerned she feels that if everything is working well, then everything works well! However, the minute one thing goes wrong (a scratch, an indicator bulb, the stereo) then all the other parts of the car decide to drop to the lowest common denominator.
The car decided to prove her right. After the stereo went the cat started to make a funny noise as it turned to the left. Then added a weird clicking noise as it turned to the right. The a horrible clunking noise whenever it went over a speed-bump/down a pot-hole. Finally one of the warning lights kicked on and the ABS system decided to kick in whenever it felt like it. I didn't say a word. I know Maria loves the car. And then she made the leap - we were going to sell the car and get a new one!
We discussed what we wanted, listed our needs and settled on certain facts. It has to be a VW - the safety factor is everything here in Tijuana. It has to be affordable in our present circumstances. It has to be a high [as high as we can get] performance vehicle (the joys of living with an engineer). It has to have a decent stereo (I am this shallow). We decided on a Golf or a Rabbit. With gritted teeth we set off to the dealership.
Maria (have I mentioned how much I love her) has set ideas and certain people she will talk to. She won't deal with most mechanics because they treat her like a girly and they she won't deal with certain salesmen because they treat her like a girly. We went to talk to Fernando. He wasn't there and so we got stuck with Armando. Armando was very nice, spoke very good English (and quite good French) and was a jolly nice bloke. He was such a nice bloke that he refused to talk about cars because he knew we wanted to talk to Fernando.
We went back the next day, knowing Fernando would be there. Fernando doesn't want to sell us a new car! The most popular car in Mexico is the Jetta - we have one. Not just any Jetta, we have a top of the range, ass-kicking, eat-my-dust, this-car-rocks Jetta. Fernando knows this because he sold it to Maria. He thinks we shouldn't sell it, especially for a Golf of a Rabbit. No-one in Mexico drives a Golf or a Rabbit, the salesman can't get his hands on one because they have discontinued production and Fernando doesn't know if the 2008 version will be available here.
We set off to leave the dealership, slightly confused and Armando stops us. He tells me that he has been thinking about our problem. We look at him for enlightenment - maybe he'll sell us a car!
You need to buy oranges. Two, maybe three. Put them on the stove, over an open flame. Cook them until they go black. Cut them in half and then eat the orange that is inside. The white stuff that surrounds the orange is a natural antibiotic. Heating them, burning them, with send all that goodness into the orange. It tastes like honey and the whole house will smell clean. Try it.
We look at him, puzzled.
I noticed yesterday you had a cold. I can't help you with selling the car, buying another, but I thought I would help you with your cold!
So, we still have the car but I have a bag of oranges!
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