I've found my home

let's see if I can remember how this goes

Yeah, I know, but, like, stuff has kept occurring. There are three half written posts in the drafts file which I've just read and have no idea how to finish them - so they've been deleted. I should write about the films I've seen, the books I've read, the father's day present and what it meant. I could write about the job, about graduation, about the week ahead with no students. However, this is blogging and what better way to get back into the trend of writing than doing a meme? So, stolen from Helly:

65 Questions You’ve Probably Never Been Asked…

1. First thing you wash in the shower?
Hair. I normally stand in the shower for three minutes, letting the water run over me as I slowly increase the hot water, decrease the cold, find that temperature that boils lobsters, then wash my hair. I tend to wash downwards, finishing with my feet.Working on the idea that the dirt gets washed down. Does anyone start at the bottom and work up?

2. What colo(u)r is your favourite hoodie?
Green(ish). It's new, so it's my favourite at the moment. Of course, when it gets colder (or I'm in a need-for-security moment) I might change my mind and reach for my black Spider-Man hoody.

3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
Eh? Well yes. Slightly confused with question - do people go round randomly kissing people? Oh, yes they do, I suppose. Or, they might be the head of a mafia family who is lulling a soon-to-be-swimming-with-the-fish person. Or they could be setting up the messiah (he's not the messiah, he's a very naughty boy) for a fist full of dollars (or a few dollars more).

4. Do you plan outfits?
Do you mean plan as in what I am wearing tomorrow? No. Do you mean plan as in now I've grabbed this t-shirt I might wear it with this shirt? Yes. Although I know what I am wearing tomorrow, and for the rest of the week - I wear a uniform to work.

5. How are you feeling RIGHT now?
Hot. Tired. Happy. Satisfied. Happy. We spent the morning with friends. maria wanted to take pictures of them (and their children), so we crossed the border and went to Balboa Park. Crossing the border at the weekend is always traumatic before you get there - will there be long queues, will you get across easily, will I get the humourless border guard (as if there is one with a sense of humour...except there is one. My visa expires on July 4th and he always finds this the funniest thing, the fact I will be kicked out of the States on July 4th). The crossing went well, the picture taking was great. Afterwards we went for breakfast together. I ate. This is something I don't normally do in company but I did. And, whoot, everything went well. We then went to Seaport Village, where we walked, talked, bought books. Now I'm back home. The kids are zoned out in front of the tele, maria is sat beside me reading, I am posting. I am happy.

6. What's the closest thing to you that’s red?
My t-shirt.

7. Tell me about the last dream you remember having?
My dad turned up at the flat, came in, sat down. I asked him if he wanted a drink. He said no. maria got out of bed (not in the dream, in reality) and I woke up and told her that she didn't need to get my dad a drink. I miss my dad.

8. Did you meet anybody new today?
The waiter where we had breakfast had nice eyes according to Brenda and maria. I spoke to him, he replied, but I can't see this being a long term relationship.

9. What are you craving right now?
Nothing. Which is odd for me, as I normally have a desire for something. At the back of my mind I'd quite like a beer, but I don't crave one, and I won't have one.

10. Do you floss?
Nope. Got me a sonic toothbrush and I'm hoping that that takes care of business.

11. What comes to mind when I say cabbage?

I've just deleted Helly's answer which mentioned Cabbage Patch Dolls. So that is what first came to mind. However, so you don't think I'm cheating...The Cabbage Patch is the nickname for Twickenham Rugby ground, which is the home ground for the England Rugby Club (it used to be a cabbage patch before it became a ground). There is a pub nearby called (drumroll for suspense) The Cabbage Patch and I have been barred from this pub. Oddly enough, although I have been thrown out of many pubs, I have only been barred from one - The Cabbage Patch. And the crime I committed to incur the wrath of the owners? I don't know. I was on a pub crawl around Twickenham. The Cabbage Patch was the ninth/tenth pub? I had stuck to halves all night (I knew it was going to be a long night and we weren't half way through the pubs we were visiting). My (future) best man was drinking three dart throws in every pub - he'd walk in, throw three darts at the board, count along the shelf to the number he got on the board and have one of those (unless he hit a double or a treble). Others were doing their own thing. I got in the pub, ordered my half and went to the pinball machine (it was an Alien Invaders machine). Fifteen minutes later I was barred from the pub and spent the rest of the night with a totally inconsolable (future) best man. I never did get the full story (or any story) out of him, just it was his fault that I could never drink there again.

12. Are you emotional?
Yes. Very. Some would say "too". But I am emotional.

13. Have you ever counted to 1,000?
Nope.

14. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it?
Ice cream in a cone? Lick. Also try to push the ice cream all the way down the cone too, so I have ice cream to the bottom. Cornettos took all the fun out of that game.

15. Do you like your hair?
No. And I realise that there are people who are aghast at that statement (yes, I'm looking at you) but I don't like my hair.

16. Do you like yourself?
Ha! You mean physically or mentally? Mind you, it is probably the same answer: yes, no, maybe, sometimes, often, whatever.

17. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush?
No. Michael Jackson died the other day and for a couple of seconds I felt sad and then...then I remembered the children who "slept in his bed". What has that got to do with eating with George W. Bush? Well, no matter how many people try to convince me that he's a wonderful raconteur, a great person to meet, a fantastic bloke, so that, just for a couple of seconds I think "I'd like to go out and eat with him". That's when I remember all the children's futures he's fucked. So, that's a no then.

18. What are you listening to right now?
The fan in our bedroom. In the background I can hear the kids are watching something that sounds cartooney. And the drier is going on the balcony.

19. Are your parents strict?
My mum is strict. My dad wasn't. Actually, my dad was strict. My mum would beat me, my father would talk to me. I suppose, looking back at it, my father's lectures were more frightening than my mum's violence. Also they were more effective. I am my father's son because of the things he said and the way he acted. I've also realised that I have portrayed my mum in a bad light here. Please don't think badly of her. I was (am) a frustrating type of person. Many people have wanted to (and actually have) hit me. I bring out the worst in people sometimes.

20. Would you go sky diving?
No. One of my "special abilities" is to see multiple endings to any scenario. I am the ultimate risk assessor. Of the many varied endings to a sky diving event, there is only one that is good. The rest end in death or worse (and yes, believe me when I say that are a lot of things worse than death). 

21. Do you like cottage cheese?
I don't know. I suppose so. It looks like sick, right? I must have eaten it at some point in my life. Just didn't remember to remember. Haven't bought any, ever.

22. Have you ever met a celebrity?
Yep. Mainly through teaching their kids.

23. Do you rent movies often?
Nope.

24. Is there anything sparkly in the room you’re in?
maria's wit. maria's personality. maria's earrings. The handcuffs attached to the bed. The look in my eye when I thought about handcuffs????

25. How many countries have you visited?
A lot. There was the two week trip through Europe, when my dad drove the six of us to Austria in order to remake "The Sound of Music" (don't ask). At one point, I remember him pulling into a lay-by and making us all get out the car so that we could all say we had stood in Luxembourg (it wasn't on his itinerary to actually stop for any length of time in Luxembourg). So, I have been to all of the Western European countries (except Portugal); the Czech Republic; Tunisia; the USofA; Mexico.

26. Have you made a prank phone call?
Yes. Unfortunately, most of them to the emergency services. Now, that I'm old, wise, and mature (I had that derisive snort at the back) I am very embarrassed about this. But, at the time, I was dead cool in front of my peers. 

27. Ever been on a train?
Errrr, yes. Lots.

28. Brown or white eggs?
In my mind, white eggs taste nicer. I always think, when I have a nice egg (and I haven't seen the shell), I bet that was a white egg. I tend to buy brown eggs though. I don't know why...are they cheaper? Are free range brown? And now I've just realised that the eggs in the fridge are white. So. I don't know the answer to this question any more. I am confused.

29. Do you have a cell-phone?
Yes. This is a meme, on the internet, and the question asks if you have a mobile? Would someone, connected to the internet, answer no? Who is this person? Why? I could understand you asking "do you use your mobile for anything else than phoning?" But, let's assume that most people who are doing a meme have a mobile, shall we?

30. Do you use chapstick?
No. Do I have a chapstick used on me? Yes. Every now and then maria complains that I have dry lips (or something) and then coats me in this gunk. I worry that people will think that I am a transvestite. Yep, I am this shallow and pathetic.

31. Do you own a gun?
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. No.

32. Can you use chopsticks?
Yes. Can I use them well? No.

33. Who are you going to be with tonight?
maria. At seven-thirty we will take the kids back to their dad's house. We shall come home, alone.

34. Are you too forgiving?
Yes I am - according to maria. I didn't know the answer to this question so I asked her. She replied: "you tell me things and my eyelids twitch, in anger. You should be out there, killing people - or at least maiming them. But you forgive and forget." So that's me then, too forgiving.

35. Ever been in love?
Yes.

36. What is your best friend(s) doing tomorrow?
She'll be processing all the pictures she took today. She'll be missing me. She'll pick me up from work. She might go across the border to watch "The Hangover" again with her boyfriend. Or, she might drag said boyfriend to IKEA again....I hope it's the former :^)

37. Ever have cream puffs?
Oops. I suppose you mean those creme puffs that they sell at the mall? You see, I love profiteroles.  Adore profiteroles. Quite like chou(x) pastry just filled with cream. Those you could call creme puffs. So, when I saw that there was a store selling creme puffs at the mall, I became very excited. When I saw the size of the things, I became very, very excited. When I saw that they filled them with custard my erection failed. What? Custard filled chou(x) pastry - no way, joseph! The store closed a week later. A week after I refused to purchase a 12 pack of creme puffs the store closed. I feel slightly guilty every time we walk past the place.

38. Last time you cried?
Held back the tears on Friday at Graduation. I suppose "UP" was the last time.

39. What was the last question you asked?
Question 34: Am I too forgiving?

40. Favo(u)rite time of the year?
Vacations. Second week of vacations.

41. Who did you last call?
J.A.

42. Are you sarcastic?
Actually I'm not. I am constantly accused of being sarcastic but this is from people who don't know what sarcasm is, and assume that what I am saying is sarcastic. It rarely is. The last time I was accused of being sarcastic I was actually been down right rude and insulting. However, I accepted the accusation, as I felt that pointing out that their failure to recognise my rudeness just proved their moron credentials would have led to further complications.

43. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect?
Yes. And if I remember it rightly, it wasn't bad. I say this because that is exactly what I said 48 hours ago, whilst watching "3:10 to Yuma" (which is excellent). It appeared, after an IMDB search, that one of the actors in 3:10 had been in TBE, which maria professed to not having seen. I came back with a quick review: I have seen it and it's not as bad as you might imagine it to be.

44. Ever walked into a wall?
Yes. That is one of the main reasons I studied Passe-Fu. Which, as eny fule noes, is the art of self defense against inanimate objects.

45. Favo(u)rite colo(u)r?
I thought this was "65 questions you've probably never been asked"? I have been asked this question before and I tend to answer it with...really? a favourite colour? you want me to pick a favourite colour? fish.

46. Have you ever slapped someone?
I should have. I should have slapped so many, many people. But I am just too forgiving...probably. I don't remember "slapping" anyone.

47. Is your hair curly?
When it is long.

48. What was the last CD you bought?
Can't remember. I haven't bought a CD in 2009, and I'm not sure I bought any in 2008. For my birthday I received the new Snow Patrol CD. So that was bought.

49. Do looks matter?
In what way? Of course looks don't matter if we are talking about a friend, or an acquaintance. If we are asking about a long term relationship, yes.

50. Could you ever forgive a cheater?
No, even though I'm too forgiving. And I wouldn't be expected to be forgiven.

51. Is your phone bill sky high?
MY phone bill? No. OUR phone bill? Sometimes. It was last month, and I expected to take the blame because I knew I had phoned my mum a couple of times (her computer has died a death and she has no way of getting on the internet). So when I saw the bill, I stayed quiet. Then maria apologised for the phone call to France and I was off the hook.

52. Do you like your life right now?
Yes. No matter how bad these bits are or get, there was a time when I saw where my life could have gone. The place I'm in, the situation I am in, right now, is far better to the place I could have been in right now.

53. Do you sleep with the TV on?
I have fallen asleep in front of the tele but that is in the tele room. We don't have a tele in the bedroom. The bedroom is for other activities.

54. Can you handle the truth?
Yes. Sometimes I don't handle it very well at the get go, but I prefer the truth.

55. Do you have good vision?
I had wonderful vision. Perfect vision. And then my arms got shorter. I struggle to read without glasses now. This is not something that makes me happy.

56. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people?
Long term - no. I am too forgiving (I'm also irritating in the way I bang on and on about the same thing). In the short term though, I can hate with a heat that burns white. And I have done that for more than three people.

57. How often do you talk on the phone?
Rarely. Three/four times a week? Mainly to maria.

58. The last person you held hands with?
maria.

59. What are you wearing?
Red t-shirt, dark blue jeans, dark blue pants (that's underwear to you), brown and blue striped socks, SPF 50 sunblock, Armani Code.

60.What is your favo(u)rite animal?
Again with the favourite. It used to be a penguin but "Happy Feet" destroyed that dream.

61. Where was your default picture taken?
A Japanese Fusion Restaurant. Unless you are looking at the one of me in a tie. That was taken at work.

62. Can you hula hoop?
No.

63. Do you have a job?
Yes. I also have a life.

64. What was the most recent thing you bought?
A book. Two books. I was supposed to be buying a book but on the way to the checkout I picked up another. Except, I didn't have enough money to pay for the two books, so maria paid for them. So, that means...popcorn and drinks, at the cinema, yesterday. We all went to see Transformers. Quick review: don't go see Transformers.

65. Have you ever crawled through a window?

Yes. Many, many times. Out of my window, onto the garage roof, onto the top of the gate, onto the fence, onto the path, off down the road. Four hours later, back up the road, onto the path, onto the fence, onto the gate, onto the garage roof, in through the window, back into my bedroom. Three nights a week for two and a bit years.

this is the bad news

The crime figures are in, and they are bad. Especially bad for Tijuana.

Nationally crime is down by 27%. Locally (Baja California) down by 79%.

This is bad news.

Yeah, I know. I'll give you a second to think it through, maybe go back and read it again. I must admit, when maria told me it was bad news I thought that she'd said the whole thing wrong. How can crime figures going down be bad news? Shirley, she's got this wrong? Shirley (and isn't her name maria?) she means: bad news the crime figures have gone up? Nope, she meant (and I repeat):

Bad news: Baja California crime figures have gone down by 79% for the first quarter.

President Calderon is a brilliant man, a brave man. Oh, I realise that at the moment the rest of the world is in love with Obama but, when the two men meet today, one is full of promises for hope and change, the other is two and a half years into proving he believes in change, and is filling his people with hope.

When Felipe Calderon took power on December 1st 2006, most of the talk was about the fact that he was the second PAN president. Before him, President Fox, had managed to break a 100+ year monopoly on the presidency by PRI. Fox broke the mould, much to the surprise of the nation, when he won. The people (and at this moment I have to turn to maria's experience) were amazed, they danced (literally danced) in the streets. As an Englishman I tried to compare it to Blair replacing Thatcherism or maybe (as a new reference point) Obama replacing Bush. But those events pale into insignificance. Twelve years of Thatcherism, eight years of Bush, 100 years of PRI. Not really comparable. President Fox changed everything. I have to be careful here, I don't want to stereotype nor add to existing prejudices but, winning an election in Mexico, before 2000, was thought to be impossible. It was accepted that elections were rigged, that votes were lost, certain votes didn't count - voting in Mexico didn't mean much. Until 2000. President Fox won. Suddenly elections in Mexico were open. Unfortunately for President Fox, although he won, his hands were tied because the senate was still PRI dominated. But six years of President Fox meant that when the elections came round in 2006, Mexico voted, not only for a PAN president, but also for a PAN senate. Felipe Calderon came to power in December 2006 with the ability to effect change. And he did.

Bless his cotton socks, Felipe Calderon has spent two years crushing crime. He isn't messing about. Under his guidance the police force is being cleansed and drug cartels are being attacked. Admit it, you've heard about Mexico in the last year, and why? Because of the drug wars. You've heard about Mexico because President Calderon is bringing the whole drug thing to a head. Yep, you've heard what appears to be bad news about Mexico because (in the long run) it is going to be good news. And, I'll admit, I've been one of those who've said bad things about Tijuana. However, the truth is, for the city to be clean, there has to be some cleaning done - you can't make omelettes without breaking eggs. President Calderon has broken some eggs - how many? Well, enough to decrease crime figures by 79%

And I realise that you are still questioning why that is bad news. Well, it isn't the end. The fact is a President in Mexico cannot be re-elected. He serves his six years and that's it. Once he is in power he doesn't have to answer to anyone, he can do what he wants, and he has six years to do it. President Calderon has a six year plan. Two years in, and his plan is working well, crime in Baja is down by 79%. But here's the thing that he understands (and maria understands), such a big decrease means that the cartels are going to kick back - it is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

Crime is down by 79% which means that the cartels have taken a 79% hit in their profits - you know that they are going to retaliate. It's going to get a lot worse, before it gets better. The cartels are going to try to turn this around. President Calderon s going to fight them. In the long run, you hope (you really hope) that President Calderon wins. But it is going to take him the whole of his presidency, six years. Two years in and he is winning. Four years in and it will probably be bad. Six years in and he'll have won. We've got to face the two years when the cartels try to win it back.

For the next two years maria says, for Mexico read Colombia. The bad news is that President Calderon has crushed the cartels. Now we have to sit through there attempt to get back. The hope is that after their retaliation, Calderon will beat them back down. It's going to be a lot worse before it gets better.

two for the price of one

I was writing a post last night - yeah, who'd have thought it, actually writing a post - when disaster a slight inconvenience struck! I've been having problems with the power adapter. You have to wiggle-the-wires before you get a good connection. Obviously, with a laptop, the idea is not to have to have it plugged in all the time, you run it off the battery. Well, that's the idea with a good laptop. Mine says it has a three hour battery but it is closer to an hour. As it takes half an hour to boot-up, it spends its life plugged in. Last night the wiggle-the-wires method suddenly failed, and we were left with a panic filled thirty minutes trying to get power back into the laptop, whilst watching the battery icon drain away. Eventually maria found the exact point to hold the wire and then taped it into place, whilst I got onto amazon.com and ordered a new adaptor. Emotionally exhausted after that crisis, I couldn't complete my post (I'd written nearly three lines).

Today I left the computer at home, too worried that moving the adaptor would wiggle-the-wires in a bad way and I'd never get any power ever again. Thursday is a full contact day, I teach all day, so there was no way that I could use my computer for personal use. It would have sat on my desk, waiting for that moment when a student asked a question to which I didn't have the answer, and I would resort to the t'internet. Instead I decided that I would resort to the old teacher fall back if I couldn't answer a question: "Very interesting. Why don't you go home tonight, find out the answer, and come back and tell us tomorrow?"

So, no computer on my desk at school. Normally it sits there, screenshot of a bunny, bubbles (the screensaver) drifting across the screen. I never realised how often I touch the spacebar, pretending it is to stop the screensaver, but really to see if I have any emails. I never realised how often I check maria's facebook page, to see what she is doing. Often I have no emails. Often maria doesn't update. But there is a sense that we are connected, that we know each other is always there. Oh, I carry my mobile. We occasionally text, but (and I know this sounds daft) somehow I feel more connected to her via the computer. I suppose that is because of the way our relationship started (and continued).

In normal circumstances, this would have been my post for today - I was a bit lonely.

But it actually links in with yesterday's post (the one I didn't write). Yesterday's post was going to be about maria's facebook update:

Every time I read the Tijuana news - particularly in the news blogs - I feel bad for Will, who is here by choice.

I was going to write about how I felt. You see, the night before I'd caught a bit of news on the tele, and it led me to look up stuff on the t'internet. The news was about Mexico, and it was fairly alarmist. Now, this isn't unusual. If you ever get news about Mexico on an American station it is always fairly alarmist - very rarely does Fox (fair and balanced) News report: Quiet day in Mexico where the only thing beaten around the head was a piñata, and the only thing emptied was a bottle of tequila. Nope,  the dickheads our friends at Fox tend to go more with: American tourist visits Mexico to harmlessly buy drugs and ends up in the middle of a small scale war, head beaten like a piñata, guns emptied into body. [Which, to totally digress, always pisses me off big stylee. I hate (HATE) it when people go to other countries, break the law, and then complain when they discover they do something barbaric, like, put them in a foreign prison.] Anyhoo, it wasn't Fox (fair and balanced) News, it was NBC news with Brian Williams, not a guy known for sensationalism. It appears that Hilary Clinton is visiting Mexico, but President Calderon isn't happy. A month ago, on the Forbes Rich List, a Mexican entered the list at number 701, Jaoquin Guzman. Normally, a Mexican entering the World's Richest would be a cause for celebration, but not in this case. Sr. Guzman is better known as "El Chapo" (Shorty). El Chapo is the head of a drug trafficking organisation. Two years ago, when the police raided his house in Mexico city, they discovered $206.5 million and 157,000 pesos. Now, think about that. Two hundred and six point five MILLION dollars in cash. In cash. In a room. Must have been a big room. And where does a Mexican get that much cash in dollars? Starting to do the maths?

At one point, El Chapo offered to pay off the Mexican National Debt, pay the whole thing off. He only asked for two things: immunity from prosecution and deportation (he isn't too worried about security); and three months to do it. Three months to pay off a natioal debt! It is when you hear stories like this that you suddenly realise that drugs aren't just something in the background, here in Tijuana, they are the foreground. They are not just a small time event, they are huge. [Fact: as I type this, news has just broken that the police have discovered $6.5 million of marijuana.]

Two months ago I was wandering around quite happy. I knew that there were kidnappings. I knew that there were drug deals. But, I knew that I didn't have enough money to be kidnapped and I don't do drugs. However, two weeks ago our flat got broken into. Yesterday I discovered that the drug world is so pervasive in Tijuana, so enormous, that it doesn't matter how little I think I'm involved - I'm involved!

So, where am I going with this?

I dunno. I think I'm close to saying I'm scared. I don't want to admit it, because the minute I say that, maria will freak out. But, it occurred to me the other day that I haven't cried since the robbery. Oddly I've found myself, in several moments, close to tears - normally over totally trivial things. I'm assuming that it is because of the robbery and I haven't got past it. Suddenly I've started to notice the news a lot more, the deaths, the robberies, the crime. I've noticed the soldiers, the armed police, the sirens - these were all background before, but now I see them. And then I had no computer.

No computer.

Suddenly I felt very alone, very lonely.

And...and I have no idea where this is going...but it has taken three days to write, so I'm just going to hit publish.

national doesn't always go with socialist

The luvverly (s)wine made a comment on my last post, which I shall deal with here, rather than in the comments, 'cos, like, it's a post innit.

Pfft, that's easy. There is, however, a spelling mistake in the last sentence of the last paragraph ("In other words, the kids are excited AD the kids...")

Ok, fact - my typing is awful. I poke at the keyboard with four fingers and an occasional thumb. Letters get missed out, spelling mistakes are made, the whole thing is a damn mess. Often maria will spell check the thing for me but (in this case) I was at school, pecking away at my laptop. I hit send. I know that typos and spelling mistakes are irritating (damn, they annoy me when I come across one) but, I hope, you can forgive me.

You love me. Still. Right?

Yep. Sort of. In a manly way. You know.

Here's a question: I know there's nothing you can do about school policy, but how do you feel seeing these kids do the marching/flag/military/allegiance thing? I have an adverse reaction to that, due to my experience of 5 years in a Communist school system which not only made us do the flag, pledge, march thing, but also learn dozens upon dozens of pro-Revolution songs and hymns and poetry. Just wondering what you think (and if it's too public a place, maybe you can shoot me an email. I'm very interested in an educator's pt. of view on patriotism and, perhaps, indoctrination of children into certain political dogma).

You're European, that is your (and mine) cross to bear. The minute someone gets all jingoistic, all nationalistic, our hackles rise. Actually, I'm going to stop using the "we" and stick to "I". These are my thoughts and it isn't fair to pull you into them.

Some of this is a favourite theme of Blue Witch's. Out here, in Mexico, I can be proud to be English. I can wave the flag of St. George, I can celebrate April 23rd, I can be English - rather than British. Back in England there is still a hang-over about nationalism. In the 1970s all those symbols, that are iconically English, were hijacked by the National Front (who later became the British National Party). Becoming politically aware, at the end of the 70s, with the explosion of punk, Rock Against Racism, and the (delightful) leadership of Ms. Thatcher, means that I have a real angst about being nationalistic. Being English, proud to be English, deep down inside scares me. The moment I come out as English (or so it seemed) was also the moment that I adopted an "all foreigners go home/there ain't no black in the union jack/no surrender to the IRA" policy. Back in England (although I do believe it is changing) it is hard to be English. We play the villains in Hollywood movies, we oppressed nation after nation, we invented slavery as a trading device, we own football hooliganism. These are the stains we carry on our souls - those of us born in the baby boom years and wear sandals and eat yoghurt. And believe me, there are many Englishmen who I find cringe-worthily embarrassing. Friends who have asked me to join a WG Cricket team (supposedly named after WG Grace but really stands for White Gentlemen), a mother who is overtly racist, a country that exports attitudes of superiority.  There are days I am embarrassed that I am English. And yet, and yet, I'm proud to be English. I'm not British, I'm English. And this is an interesting point - hey, you'll never get Croila admitting she's British either, she'll happily stick to being from Scotland, Scottish.

And that was what I was thinking. But, looking across the Channel, at Europe, it is also possible to see a certain amount of racism in Western Europe. Nationalism is still associated with National Socialism. Anything that smacks of Nationalism is really one one step away from being another Nazi party. And then there is central Europe, just (in recent times) coming out from under the yoke of communism (I can't believe I just typed that - how much of a wanker am I?). Countries that are still recovering from civil war, from ethnic cleansing. How scary is being a nationalist?

As an educator I'm against all indoctrination - I despise anyone who tries to force children to believe one way or another. All children should be liberals. I hate anyone who tries to make any child follow a religion, all children should be atheists (or at least agnostic). Oh, hang on, doesn't that make me an indoctrinator????

Right, let's try this another way: as an educator I believe that education is about the creation of a free-thinking autonomous human being. Education gives it's recipients the ability to live freely in society. It is not my job to tell a child how to think politically, religiously, footballishly. I believe that every child should come to their own decisions about what politics they will follow, what religion they will follow, what football team they will follow. It is my job to give them the information to make an informed and educated decision. However, there is one punchline. I am educating children so that they can live in society not isolation. And therein lies the key - society.

To educate children to take a full and active role in society I sometimes have to go against parental wishes, against school policy, and against everything that is sacrosanct. You see, I have a huuuuuuge ego and I believe that I am exactly the person who would make society a better place. Actually, to be honest, I don't. However, I know how the ideal person should think and behave. Therefore I teach tolerance. I make sure that there is (in my classroom) a tolerance for religious beliefs, a tolerance for political beliefs, a place where children can question their parents' beliefs and find open answers. Set me a boundary and I'll push it.

So, all that means that I am disgusted by the display every Monday morning? Nope. I love it. I think if it was done in an English school I would abhor it, you tell me that in a Romanina school is was actually the reverse of what it was intended to be, but here, in Mexico, it is a whole different thing. This could well be because they are Mexican. Take a couple of seconds to think about all the countries that Mexico has invaded, all the countries that Mexico has gone to war with, their history of oppresion and slavery, their desire to be a leading world power. Still thinking? Got as far as The Alamo? Well done you. Although, in reality, Texas had secceded from Mexico and Santa Anna had just marched north to bring them back into line. Not so much a war as an attempt to scold a disruptive child. No, the only wars that Mexico has got itself into is with invaders - the Spanish, the French, and the Americans (from the USA). Mexicans aren't really very warlike in their jingoism.

In fact, Mexican jingoism (nationalism) is better described as a love of their country, a love of their people, a love of society. But it is an open society. Don't get me wrong, it isn't idylic here, there is racism in Mexico, but it is weird racism. It is not a racism based on colour - hell, most families have (at least) two children, one white, one brown. Oddly it is a self-racism. The foreigner is loved, worshipped, and adored. (The cynic in me would mention the fact that the first Spaniards were worshipped as gods, but I have too many Mexican friends [and a Mexican partner] to bring that up).

Bluntly, Mexicans love thier country. They love the land it is on. They love the earth. They are very defensive - not aggressive. And it is that love which is (as an educator) something to encourage. This is not a jingoistic I love me/I hate you situation. It is actually I love this bit of soil moment. As an educator it is very easy to turn this flag pledging/country alliagning/anthem singing into something that is society enriching. Oddly enough, whereas in other countries, singing a national anthem would inspire the masses to go invade another country, in Mexico it makes people want to take care of their country, their fellow citizens. To make their country a better place for their children and their children's children (yes, I did just type that). This is a political indoctrination that I can go with. This is an indoctrination based on people who have died defending their country, who have wrapped themselves in the flag and leapt from buildings, who have believed that tomorrow is a better day (yep, typed that as well).

Five miles further north (across the border and in the USofA)I would have a lot of probems on Monday morning. But, here, you'll find me saluting the flag, my arm bent at a right angle, my hand over my heart. And, when the children pledge allegiance, I salute as well (a slightly more alarming salute as it it is 45 degrees off a N@zi salute). There are values that I believe are good for the children. There are beliefs that I think will make them better citizens. These are not things that will drive them to invade another country, nor close their minds, asking them to follow some political dogma.

You know, I quite like Mexico. I quite like Mexicans. Still don't understand why they can't see that following Sheffield United is really the way to go though.

I can't remember - I just know it's no on 8

I love voting! No, seriously, I really love voting. I love going to vote. I love the fact that I can vote. I love the time spent listening to my mum telling me how she fought a war just so that I could vote - of course, she'll then go on to say that she wished I'd use my vote a lot better! However, I was brought up to vote. People died just to let me vote. So I vote.

Voting is pretty simple in England. You vote for one person. That's it. You don't vote for a president, you don't vote for this/that/the other. One vote. One cross in the box. If your bloke wins then that counts as one seat in parliament. The party with the most seats forms a government and the leader of the party gets to call him/herself Prime Minister. There have been times, when I've voted, that I'm not sure I want any candidate. And, I realise, that being undecided makes me a bit stupid but when you are voting for a candidate who doesn't strictly follow the party line (s/he might be a bit of a maverick), then it does become difficult to follow ones beliefs.

However, my problems - minor mental niggles - before I enter the polling booth are nothing when compared to what is facing the citizens of California. They don't just have to vote for a President. They are also faced with electing a local Congress person. On top of that there are also elections for local school boards and places of (semi-) importance. But, the thing that has really been causing the biggest stir, politically speaking, are The Propositions!

Proposition 1A: High-Speed Rail
Proposition 2: Standards for confining farm animals
Proposition 3: Children's hospital bond
Proposition 4: Parental notification for minor's termination of pregnancy
Proposition 5: Non-violent drug offense sentencing and rehabilitation
Propositions 7: Renewable energy generation
Proposition 8: Elimination of same-sex marriage
Proposition 9: Victim's rights in criminal justice system
Proposition 10: Alternative fuel vehicles and renewable energy
Proposition 11: Redistricting
Proposition 12: Veterans bond act

During every advert break (and let me assure you there are a lot of advert breaks - you know how you get one advert break in The Simpsons if you are unlucky in jolly ol'Ingerland? Last night we had three advert breaks, plus the two that topped and tailed it) we are bombarded with adverts telling us to say Yes to 4 or No to 4 or Yes to 10 or No to 10 or...damn it! The whole thing gets confusing. I like to think that I'm quite an intelligent chap. I also like to think I'm fairly well informed. But, I know that if I had to vote tomorrow I'd end up taking in a cheat-sheet because I just can't remember which I'm supposed to say Yes to and to which I have to say No. At the moment (I think) I'd vote: dunno, Yes, dunno, No, Yes, Yes, No, Yes, Yes, dunno, dunno. But I'm not sure.

I'm a definite YES for 2. I'm a definite "don't have to tell the parents" on 4 but I don't know if that's a Yes or a No. I'm a definite "rehabilitate" and want to distance myself as far away as possible from the people who want to lock everyone up, but again I'm not sure if that means I'm a Yes or a No. The same goes with propositions 7 and 10. I have an opinion I'm just not sure which way to vote. It is all so confusing. Thank goodness I don't vote.

Except, I want to vote. I want to vote because of Proposition 8. You see I'm definite No on this one. I find it extraordinary that in the 21st Century we can still be arguing over same-sex marriage (I actually find it totally bizarre that people can vote on marriage at all - but hey-ho). However, this one Proposition has managed to pull all the crazies out of the woodwork. It appears that it is not enough to be simply against gay marriage - which, as a stance I could understand - but, if you align yourself against gay marriage you have to automatically take a stand on a myriad of other hypothetical beliefs. 

I'm sorry, I'm probably not making sense any more. Let's take this a bit slower. At the moment same-sex marriage is legal in California. However, there is a proposition (8) to make it illegal - although, if it passes, how it will affect all those that are married already I'm not sure. Now, as a tree-hugging-sandal-wearing liberal I support the right of people to vote against same-sex marriage - true, I think that they are neo-fascists - but I support their right. In fact, I welcome the debate. Obviously people need to talk this through, it is scary for some people. However, the debating skills of those against same-sex marriage seem to have avoided the whole idea of logic. To me, the only argument against same-sex marriage is that you can't have children. All other arguments are futile - if people are in love and want to spend the rest of their lives together, and then in death, share their goods, who are we to stop them. Hell, if you are going to stop them, the next thing to stop is English people marrying, I dunno, Mexicans? But, the the people who are arguing for a Yes to Proposition 8 have taken a totally surreal line. They have skipped straight past the "against nature" argument and gone for the "against god" argument. Which might have been ok (ish) if they'd just stuck at being a bit religious. But why is it that when anyone ever plays the god card they aren't satisfied with a normal argument about god?Why can't they stick to the "faith" argument? Why do they always turn out to be nutters? 

Basically, from what I can work out, the facts are: a NO vote to Proposition 8 means that you are a fair minded person who can accept that life in the 21st Century is slightly different to living in the 20th Century. A YES vote to Proposition 8 could have meant that you were still stuck in the 1970's, but, in reality, actually means that you are stuck in the 12th Century. A YES vote means that you still believe the Earth is flat, the sun goes round the Earth, and dinosaur bones were planted in the ground by god. 

And now I realise I am just ranting. I'm sorry. Have I mentioned that Maria has left me? Just for three days. She's had to go home, sort some stuff out. I'm here with nothing to do except write blog posts and get angry.

So, if you vote in California, and you haven't made up your mind on Proposition 8 yet, vote NO. Please.

with less than 20 hours to go

We're driving across the border. Maria has to go out of town for a few days and so we've decided to head into the USofA and spend some time together. If we'd have spent the day (Sunday) at home, we'd have been together, but this way we don't zone out in front of the telly, we stay focused on each other. 

The border crossing goes well - I say well because at no stage was there the sound of rubber gloves snapping and a humourless bastard border guard asking to do an internal body search. In my book that means all went well! We've recounted our stories, we don't cross together, and are in a quite moment. Maria is fighting the traffic, trying to get onto the freeway, I'm missing smoking¹. The radio is on and we are listening to NPR.

It's Sunday, two days before Tuesday. For those of you who aren't totally clued into this, Tuesday is election day in the good ol'USofA. Most of the talk on the radio is about the up coming election. The bit they are doing, as we drive up the 5, is on first time voters. But, of course, this is first time voters with a twist. The first person interviewed is an ex-crack addict who has spent time in jail. Normally ex-cons can't vote but this person lives in a State (as opposed to a state) that allows ex-cons to vote so long as they go through a rigorous procedure to prove that they are reformed.  

The second person is an American citizen but (of course) wasn't an American citizen four years ago. No, this is a first time voter because he has earned his papers! He was a Romanian (from Romania) - did that make you sit up? For odd reasons (oh, ok, the reasons are fairly obvious to us - the luvverly (s)wine is from Romania) we start to pay attention, what had just been background noise suddenly becomes foreground importance. 

The man describes living in Romania and voting in Romania. And then he comes up with a line, three words (and a brilliantly timed pause between the second word and the third) which cause Maria to almost swerve off the road, and me to blow coke (a-cola) out of my nose. Now, I realise that this is a case of "you had to be there" and it probably isn't that funny, but trust me, I know funny, this is/was funny.

Elections in Romania were:

meaningless and [pause] mandatory  

The comment is pure genius. Note how the elections weren't mandatory and meaningless - no, these were meaningless and mandatory! 

Well, it made us laugh.

Oh, just in passing, please vote tomorrow if you can. The yoghurt-eating-tree-hugging-sandal-wearing liberal in me would like you to vote. Even if it isn't for the person I'd like you to vote for - that's your right and I respect it - but I'd like you to vote! Voting is the important thing. Get that right first, then we'll talk about who you should have voted for. 

¹ This is quite odd because, in the three weeks I haven't been smoking, I haven't particularly missed smoking. It has been situations, moments that I normally smoke, that have suddenly drawn attention to my lack of smoking. The reason I miss smoking at this moment was because I had just entered California. For some obscure reason California makes me want to smoke. I find the whole anti-smoking stance so irritating that I need to smoke. Ah well. 

three inches

It would be totally pointless for me to comment on the Presidential Debate (between Obama and McCain) that I have just witnessed. My opinion counts for nothing and will not effect voting, one way or another.

However, that will not stop me from sharing one thing I learnt. Now, I have no proof to back up this statement, also, as I have a certain knowledge of statistics, I'm not sure about the validity of this statement. But, I do know, that if I don't sleep tonight, it will be because of this single fact:

The average South Korean is three inches taller than a North Korean.

If that statistic doesn't rattle your cage enough, the punchline was added by a candidate:

It makes you wonder how oppressive a regime must be to reduce the height of a whole country by three inches.

Yep, I might not be sleeping tonight. I knew that North Korea was a bit scary, just not that scary.

a little bit of politics

Paris Hilton.

Paris Hilton is a goddess.

Yes, I realise that is a sentence that: (1) I never thought I would ever write and (b) You thought you'd never read on this blog. But there is a reason for this.

There is a presidential election happening in the US, you might have heard. We might also have heard about one of the candidates, Barack Obama. You might not have heard about the other candidate, John McCain. If you haven't heard about Mr. McCain this might be because he's not sexy, not interesting, not...well, to be honest, he's not anything to an outsider. Mr. McCain has taken exception to the media's love of Mr. Obama and spent the last two weeks complainig to the press contingent that covers his every move (both of them).

He has also released several adverts attacking his opponent. The main plank of his attack is that Mr. Obama is a vaccuous celebrity, a man of no substance - basically Barack Obama might as well be Paris Hilton. Oh, how the world laughed at his wit, his satire, his sense of finger on the pulse-ed-ness. Except, of course, Miss Hilton didn't. She retaliated. And, it behoves me to say, she retaliated with a certain amount of style.

Watch this reply and gain a new found respect for Miss Hilton. The woman is a genius, or at least, she has some very clever writers/advisors.

not got time to post

Wanted to do a long post about politics. A long boring post about how I have suddenly become totally entrapped with American politics. How I love Obama. How I hate Hilary. How I suddenly believe in the power of politicians again. But I haven't got enough time.

I can say that she told her to try typing wanker into imbd and then looking at the first result.

Made me laugh.

eyes wide shut

It's been an odd couple of days. We've spent a lot of time talking about racism, about Mexico, about Mexicans. Read this.

I love Mexico, I love Mexicans, I love the life I live. But, like some demented princess from a Disney film, it appears that I might be wandering through this life with a false perception. The ground is covered with rose petals, the birds are singing in the trees and everything is wonderful because I'm a fairy princess (this is an analogy - I'm not really a fairy princess and if I were, I would not choosing this moment to come out). Does this mean that everything I've said, written, about Mexico is a lie? Does this mean that when you turn up here you will discover a totally different world to the one I have described? Well, no, not really, because you're foreign, too. You're different, and will be treated differently to a Mexican. This idyllic world I have described is freely available to you, no extra charge, just make sure that you look foreign, speak foreign, act foreign. Life is grand.

Of course, the flipside is that I will never know the real Mexico because everyone treats me differently. But (except for two incidents, one in a bar and the other on the street) I have always been treated well.

We have a favourite restaurant, La Mandolino, I've mentioned it a couple of times on here, I rave about it constantly. Friends, inspired by my enthusiasm, have gone to the place and when questioned, after their visit, have been a little non-committal. Up until now we haven't really questioned their reasons but, in the light of what we have discovered in the last couple of days, we have started to pursue this. It appears that the reason they don't like the place is that the service is crap. They are ignored, orders aren't taken, food doesn't turn up, glasses go empty, finished plates remain on the table. This isn't the restaurant we eat in. We are met at the door, welcomed in, drinks are produced as we sit down (they remember our preferences), an ashtray appears, a basket of bread (that is changed often because the bread has cooled). They have started replacing our cutlery once we have eaten a course. When we finish eating we are left alone to drink and talk, we are never hurried out the door. A week ago we visited a bar and last Thursday we entered the bar again - now, this is The Tijuana Bar, the bar connected to the town's brewery. It copes with over a thousand people a week? As you sit in the bar you can see groups of visitors going round the brewery and then they enter the bar to sample the wares. It is busy, busy, busy. On Thursday, by the time we had sat down a diet coke was placed in front of Maria, an ice cold glass of beer in front of me, and we were informed that the guacamole was on its way. A week after our previous visit! They remembered us. True, I might have over-tipped the previous time but, even so, they remembered us. Or at least, as I am learning, they remembered me.

But what to do? Does this mean that I am going to live the rest of my life being treated as though I was special (and I don't mean special in that way that teachers talk about pupils as special)? Well, there is little I can do about it. And how do I feel about it all? Sad. It's not right. I am not better than anyone, I'm not special. I think that my friends are better than I, I think that Mexicans are much nicer people (as a race) than the English - I'm not damning a whole country there. But then, I have to pause, and wonder if my opinion is tainted because of the way I'm treated? There is no norm for me. I don't know what is the norm and that makes me a bit sad. I've also been frighteningly naive and probably unconsciously racist. As my awareness of the latent racism that exists in this country has been raised, I have realised that I have been incredibly unaware of my own racism - racism by omission. I have been guilty of "they all look the same". After a very long conversation on Thursday night, I spent a lot of Friday looking carefully at the children I teach. Children who I had (in my mind) labelled as "white" were, in fact, not. Children who I had classified as "not particularly Mexican looking" were suddenly Mexican. And, the most upsetting thing, suddenly I could see that the children, and I hope sub-consciously, divided themselves into groups on the playground. The whiter children stuck together, the more Indian looking children were apart. In the classroom there is a noticeable under-current, a different sense of confidence and superiority between the different children. And I hadn't noticed. It makes me feel sad. Sad that this exists, sad that it has taken me so long to really notice.

Will it change me? Yes, obviously. I hope it will change me for the better but, I fear that it will change me because some of the shine has been knocked off - the rose-tinted glasses are a lot clearer now. Can I change it? No, sadly. I will be a lot more careful in what I say, how I act in class, how I interact with the children. But there is little I can do to change something that every Mexican is born with and every Mexican lives their lives with.

As a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve liberal I've spent a lot of time bemoaning the fact that I am treated differently, that I have no chance to know what it is like to be a real Mexican. In three years time, when I can apply for a Mexican passport, I will still be foreign. I will still be treated as "special". There is no escape, nothing I can do to change the bubble I live in.

Well, there is one way. Efraín has recommended a restaurant for me to visit. He tells me that the waiters will be rude, the service will be awful, the food will be cold, my order will be taken incorrectly and I will be treated badly. It is a restaurant in which I will feel like a Mexican! It's a French restaurant.

[Footnote: In a discussion, with La Directore about her project, when asked to name some of the "qualities I possess" she said the following:
One of your qualities is that you are English, whereas, one of my limitations is that I am Mexican.
Which, in retrospect, probably sums up this whole discussion in one phrase.]