Home, the Aftermath

Home. The aftermath. 

Funny going into Bread &Cie, a local bakery, this morning.  I was relieved when the cashier spoke to me in English.  

There's this Asian lady who must live or work across the street from our loft.  I think I see her more than any other human being on the planet besides my immediate family.  I've never met her. But I see her all the time. She drives a little green convertible Mazda Miata.  I am pretty sure she's never seen me. 

I was sitting in the parking lot  in my car with Roo, waiting for a space to open up so I could go get a pastry and a coffee. I was at one entrance to the small lot.  From the opposite entrance in pulls my neighbor in her green Miata. Next a car's back lights go on, then the white reverse lights.  Aha. Someone is leaving.  The Miata lady notices, slams her car in reverse and claims the space.  Not very neighborly.  I toot my horn politely, throw her a WTF shoulder shrug.  She notices my agitation and offers to back out, but by then another car was leaving and I politely waved her back into the stolen spot. 

I parked and waited in the car listening to a fascinating debate on NPR where Condi Rice's convention speech was being discussed.  Just then I felt the presence of a being approaching.   Nope, not Hermanito, although I did invite him into my dreams again last night.   It was my stranger neighbor apologizing for taking the spot. She approached from behind so we never made eye contact.  I was going to introduce myself and tell her we are neighbors but she disappeared.  Not magically like a spirit.  I just lost sight of her.  America is strong on defense.  We don't need to attack Iran to prove it. 

Next I took Roo, my golden retriever and constant companion to the outside seating area of the bakery/ cafe, hooked her up to a chair at an empty table and went inside to order.  When I returned a man was sitting at my table with my dog. He took my table.  I guess leaving my 80 lb pup at the table meant nothing.   

Without saying a word, I unhooked her leash and moved to another table. 

I don't usually get pissed at this kind of stuff.  There's always another parking space or table. 

I have fantasies of getting pissed and reading stupid people the riot act.  But I'm not very good on my feet like that.  Give me a few minutes and I always come up with the perfect response for the situation.  Never in real time though. 

Next time I see my neighbor I'm going to introduce myself.  

I've spoken to quite a few people today who followed my adventure in Mexico. Lots of good advice, feedback,  offers of other options, names of good doctors etc. 

My mom spoke to a spiritual healer and he said the lesson for me was to connect with god directly and I didn't need a medium.  Great advice and a conclusion I even came to myself. Problem is I don't think I have quite enough faith for that.  Not yet anyway.  Well see how that goes.  I don't want to offend anyone but I'm not entirely sure of the whole god thing anyway. 

What I was enjoying about my journey to see Hermanito was that it didn't require my faith.  I was free to be skeptical. It would either work or it wouldn't.  

I imagine a large portion of people who followed my experience thought it was pretty dumb. I know I would. But given the serendipitous way that the opportunity unfolded, believing or not, I knew I couldn't pass up the chance.  Too bad serendipity didn't call a week earlier.  

Day 3 Part 1

6:30 pm. Wednesday.  Heading home.  At the aeropuerto in the aeroplane ready to fly nonstop to Tijuana.

Seems like I've been in Mexico for a week. I can't believe it's only been three days.

Unfortunately the opposite of what I had  been hoping for is happening.  I'm going home with more pain than when I arrived.   Too much tourista stuff.  I get a nasty burn down my back, hip and leg when I walk or stand for any length of time.  We did too much walking and standing.

Darn you Enrique.  Why'd you have to go and die.  You couldn't have waited a week?  Are you even aware of the inconvenience your untimely death has caused me?   Probably not I suppose.  

I kid.  Everything happens for a purpose and in its own time.  This may or may not be true but it's a handy interpretation for times like this.

I enjoyed my time in this city.  Sofia and Marco were the most gracious hosts. I'm going to refer to them as "the kids" for the remainder of this post.   Easier than typing their names over and over.  I'm sure Jose would have been the perfect spirit guide.

The kids really wanted me to stay longer but once my plans changed I felt all of my other commitments calling me.  Paying bills, helping Kyle get off to work, transferring money into my kids bank accounts, walking Roo, finding a good back surgeon?

I did recite the prayer Domingo gave me. Both last night and this morning. In awful Spanish.  Hermanito did not appear in my dreams last night. But if he heard my prayers I'm sure he had a good laugh.

By the way, let me thank all the people in Mexico who speak English and apologize to those who don't. So, I didn't get what I came for.  What did I get?  Jose repeated an old quote I've heard many times. He said "if you want to make God laugh, tell her/him your plans."

I did get the generosity of friends.  I got the support of friends and family. I discovered I can entertain people and make them laugh with my writing.  I got that there may or may not be unbelievable miracles in store whether one is a "true believer" or not.   I got that my quest continues; to be a good person, to be generous to others, to take better care of myself. I'm not searching for an elusive moment of enlightenment or happiness.  I learned a long time ago that "this is it".  But to not shut the door to possibilities beyond my current awareness.

I also got what a big ass megalopolis Mexico City is.  I couldn't really see that from driving around the city with the kids. I was expecting it to be crowded, dangerous and polluted.  I found none of that to be true. However, flying out of the city I saw how enormous it really is. That's a big town.

I'm still not buying the stuff they show on that Ghost Hunter reality show.  I'm sorry but that's pure, let's call it, entertainment.  Sorry kids.

On the ground in Tijuana.  

Day 2 Part 3

Well boys and girls.  Not quite sure how to tell you this but the shaman is on the roof. *

It's all fun and games till somebody dies.

I spent my day enjoying Mexico City,  Mexican food and Mexican friends.  We drove to the house where Hermanito through Enrique gives the initial consultation to 20 or 30 faithful followers.  We arrived at about 5 minutes till 8pm.  We were to meet Jose who would stay with me and translate everything.

We stood at a large wooden door at an old stone house.  A couple, an older woman and a younger man joined us at the door awaiting someone to answer our knock.

Word were exchanged in Spanish among the couple and Marco and Sofia.  While my Spanish is lacking, I thought I picked up something about no consultations tonight. Say what!

A large older gentleman opened the door and greeted us.  His name was Domingo.  I'm pretty sure he asked if I was there for a consultation.  Something that has gone on every Tuesday night for the past 25 years.

I was led over with my friends to a small table and was asked to sit down.  It looked like I was about to be asked to fill out some paperwork.

A conversation ensued in Spanish among the 3 of them with Domingo doing most of the talking.  After 2 or 3 minutes Marco looks at me and says, "something very bad has happened".

I thought I heard the word El Salvador spoken during the conversation and I thought Marco was about to tell me Hermanito had gone out of town.  Great!   I come all this way and this is what I get!

Then Marco tells me, "Enrique died on Saturday night".   Say what!!

Well that was deflating news. I felt badly.  Not just for me. But for Jose and Sofia and Marco and Natalia.  I felt bad for Domingo and the volunteers who were gathered.  And I felt bad for you. Because like me we will never know what would have happened.  Was this the real thing or a scam? Could I have actually healed or even improved my shitty back condition. Could this have helped you or someone you care about.

I can't say we'll never know. The door is open. But we won't know by the end of my week here.

I have so many mixed feelings about the whole thing.  I was hoping to continue writing about my adventure through the entire process.

After a while Jose and his girlfriend, Aleana arrived. They were met and informed of the news by Domingo.  They were also shocked.

After it sunk in, the 5 of us walked several blocks to a cantina where we talked, drank some beer, tried putting it all in context and moved on.  We joked, laughed, I texted my family to fill them in.  It was an impromptu Mexican wake.

They all felt so badly for me. I felt badly for them.  They lost their spiritual leader and friend.  While it may appear a wasted trip for me I've had and am having the time of my life.

Jose had asked Domingo what can be done for me.  I was given a card and a sheet of paper with two prayers. One for the morning and one for the evening. I am to read them in Spanish each day.  While Enrique's body has passed on, Hermanito is still with us.  So maybe he visits me in my dreams.

I was told that when Pachita, Enrique's mother died it took two years for Hermanito to start using Enrique as a medium.  Maybe Hermanito Cuauhtemoc, the last Aztec emperor will reappear in a town near you.

So I suppose this part of the journey is over.   I'm having to much fun writing about it so I will search for excuses to keep the blog going.   I'm planning on changing my flight to return either tomorrow or Thursday.

I'll be back soon.  Hopefully Hermanito will be as well.


 *this refers to the old joke where the sister leaves her cat with her brother while she goes out of town.  She calls to see how the cat is doing but the brother abruptly blurts out the cat died.  After getting over the initial shock the sister tells the brother he could have broken the news more delicately.  For example you could have said the cat is fine but he's on the roof and I can't get him down. Next time I call you say something like the cat fell off the roof and he's stuck in the tree.  Keep it going like that and after a few more calls I would be better prepared for the sad news.  Then the sister says, so…how's dad doing.  Brother answers, uh…dad's on the roof. 

Day 2 Part 2

Haven't done much yet today.  Slept till 11. Hanging out with Marco and Sofia.  I shared my blog link with them and Jose.  I hope this won't get awkward.  Marco assured me to feel free to not restrain my comments.  So I guess I can tell you. Marco is really ugly!   Just kidding.

There's no tv in the apartment.  But it does shake and roll a bit from time to time.  I was sure we were having small earth quakes, which by the way, are the best kind to have in Mexico City. But when I asked Sofia told me they were just big semi trucks driving by on the street below.

There is a school, I think it may be a kindergarten down the street.  I think it is recess all day long.  The kids seem to be having way too much fun for school.

We are going out in a bit to tour the center of the city.   My back is really aching so we scheduled a deep tissue massage with a friend of Marco's for 5:45 pm then on to My consultation with Enrique Hermanito Cuauhtemoc the shaman.  By the way. Hermanito means little brother.  And the street where I am going for my massage is called Cuauhtemoc, also the name of the shaman, the last Aztec emperor and Jose's middle name.  Small world.

I think it's time to go find some Mexican food. 

Day 2 Part 1

Many questions answered.

I have a much better idea of where I'm going, who I'm seeing and what I will be doing while I'm  here.  This entry while called Day 2 Part 1 will actually cover the end of yesterday.   I finally got to where I am staying and to bed at 3 pm local time, which you may recall is 2 hours ahead of San Diego time.

The shuttle dropped me off in a thriving business district called Santa Fe.  Everything there is brand new or still under construction. International Corporations everywhere. The shuttle ride from the airport in Toluca to the hotel where I was dropped off took about a half hour. It was dark out and I couldn't see well, but what I could see didn't match up with what I thought it would be.  It seemed much "nicer".

First mystery solved.  Marco and Sofia pulled in to the hotel driveway in an SUV. Hugs and kisses and a quick drive through what they described as a poor area, but looked to me like old world Spain. Hilly, very interesting housing, street dogs making there way comfortably up down and across the very narrow streets.

Near the top of the hill we pull up to a large gate, with signs indicating a garage sale written in Spanish. This I was told since, as you know my Spanish is limited to only those menu items that have stuck in my head over the years. The gate opens from the inside and out popped Jose.  Before I could greet him, his adorable, female beagle, Chiara, zipped out and around greeted everyone. She was adorable.

The home was more of a compound. A number of older buildings arranged behind the gate and wall separating the property from the street.  There were horse stables, but no horses.

We went into the house got comfortable and talked for maybe an hour or so.   It was fairly late, around midnight. Jose's girlfriend, Eleana and his younger teenaged son, Andres were asleep.

The four of us started to talk about what this is all about.  Jose was trying to gauge my level of consciousness and spiritual awareness.  I told him of my earlier quest and some of the paths I explored.   I mentioned "A Course in Miracles" and his eyes lit up. I'll let you look it up but suffice it to say its a course.  In miracles.  I've owned the books and spent some time reading them years ago.  Jose has read and gone through the course 3 or 4 times. Impressive.

The next hour was spent with me asking some and answering other questions.  Mostly, Jose shared his experience and examples of people he knows who have been to see the shaman.

For clarification the shaman, who's given name is Enrique, channels the healing powers of Hermanito Cuauhtemoc.  Cuauhtemoc was the last Aztec emperor.

Jose explained the entire process to me which consists of a number of meetings.  Tuesdays, tonight, are for consultations where Hermanito examines and prescribes the treatment. It may or may not be "surgery".  Typically it is but some are "healed" during the consultation and have no further need.

On Wednesdays you go back and are told what you need to do or get in preparation for the procedure that will be performed on Thursday night.  This is also where payment is made.

Ok. I know what you are thinking and it's easy to question the legitimacy of all this. The payment is about $100.  I'm suspending my skepticism for now.  I'm honoring Jose's commitment, passion and enthusiasm for the process.

Jose is 60 years old.  The epitome of health.  He's a college professor teaching Sustainable Development. He's experienced this personally and witnessed his family and friends undergoing miracle after miracle.

Who am I to poo poo the world and word of my host.  The good news is, according to Jose, faith and belief are not a prerequisite for results.  So I'll be a happy willing participant in this crazy experiment. And you my friends will know how it turns out when I do thanks to the miracle of Facebook and blogspot.

After saying goodnight Marco drove Sofia and me to their apartment in the middle of Mexico city. This is where I'll be staying. They have a lovely 3 bedroom apartment on the 4th floor. In Mexico City buildings 5 floors and taller have to have elevators.  This building has 4 floors. I'm gonna get some exercise. I don't mind.   After Thursday, I'll be in bed for 3 days anyway so no stairs.  That's going to be the tough part. Lying in bed for 3 days. Yikes.

Oh yeah, they rearranged the apartment for my stay and moved their bed into the guest room for me.  Their bed is my bed.  These are really good people. I feel badly but they insist.

On the way to the apartment we stopped for Mexican food.  My third Mexican meal of the day.  I had a delicious pollo quesadilla and a tamarindo.  We discussed politics, both U.S. and Mexican.  Marco and Sofia impressed me with there understanding of both.

Before bed I finished the previous entry to this log, blog, journal account and found out my wife, Kyle created a blog for me. I'll be posting both to Facebook for now. If I get feedback i may only post the blog. But both for now.  By the way, Kyle is a girl for anyone who doesn't know.  It's caused confusion in the past. Not that there's anything wrong with that.  

Day One Part 5

On to Toluca. 

On the Tarmac.  Just me, my thoughts and a few hundred Mexican travelers.  Once again no Internet, so I'll either need to strike up a conversation with the mom and her toddler or entertain myself with my thoughts.

I should be in Toluca in about an hour. Then a short shuttle ride to somewhere where I will be met by someone.

Just so you understand, this all started with a conversation this summer with our friends Natalia and Sofia and Sofia's boyfriend Marco.   I think it's going to be Marco who meets me in Toluca.  I'll either be staying with Marco and Sofia or their dad Jose.  I think Jose is behind all of this.  But back to the dinner with these guys this past summer.  Natalia and Sofia are sisters.  They've become very close to us. Our talk around the table ended up being about their experience with Hermanito Aztec dude. They couldn't say enough good about the healing powers of this person who they referred to as a shaman. It all sounded beyond belief and it remains there at this time.

I didn't think much about it, at least not seriously until last week.  We were eating at Burger Lounge in Little Italy, where Natalia works.  The subject came up again and my mother in law's sister got very excited and started pushing for us, her and me, to drive her camper van down this week.  Road trip!!  She abruptly disappeared from the scene but the seed was planted, wheels were set in motion, there was no turning back…so with that being said at the end of the day I'd run out of clichés and found myself looking up airfares.  It's ridiculously cheap to fly from Tijuana to Mexico City, about $100 each way.  They don't tell you about the cost of shuttles and travel visas plus Mexican food at the all day layover in the airport.  But still pretty reasonable.  

Anyway, people were asking how this came about so I thought I would explain it to you. 

Oops. I never turned my phone off and now we are in the air.  They are much more chill about security in Mexico than we are in the states.  I guess Al Qaeda doesn't hate the Mexicans for their freedom the way they hate us for ours.  Did I mention I didn't have to take my shoes off at security. 

I haven't spoken to the mom and her toddler, but it turns out there are three little ones. Ten minutes into the flight they are adorable.  Please Hermanito, keep them that way.  

Other than my excitement, curiosity and anticipation of this experience, I'm next most interested in meeting the girls' father, Jose.  He's a college professor. Not sure what he professes, but I'm interested to meet the man who raised such great daughters. 

Jesus Cristo.  The kids are now screaming but the flight attendant handed me a bag of chips so I'll be ok. Sabritas.  Must be Mexican for Lays.  

Ginger ale? No. Sprite?  No. 7-Up? Nope. But they do have Fiesta.  Tastes like Sprite. Gracias.

Wheels down in Toluca.  I was just thinking I would never do something like this in a million years with out the enthusiastic urging and support of Natalia and Sophia, Marco and their family. They are completely taking care of me for the entire week. Again we shall see how this goes, but I'm just present to their enormous support and generosity   Makes me want to be a better person  Pretty awesome. 

I've only encountered one person all day who spoke no English.  The clerk at the shuttle counter. Didn't stop us. She spoke Spanish. I spoke English.  A little bit of pointing.  I understood the word pesos so I handed her money and she gave me a ticket. Easy enough. 

On the shuttle. I'll soon know who's meeting me and where I'm staying. Long day.  

I've just completed living but not writing part 6, but it's almost 3 am so I'll write it up after I sleep.  I spent time with the kids and Jose. Learned tons and I'm getting excited.  My consciousness has been expanded and I'm looking forward to the next few days.  Lots to share.  By the way. I'm in Mexico City, no longer Toluca.

Day One Part 4

I’m leavin’ on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again. 

Except for all the people speaking Spanish around me and the tv’s are only broadcasting in Spanish you’d never know this was Mexico. I’m forever in debt to you American Express. No seriously, I owe them a lot of money. But I do appreciate this perk. Nice to belong to a club. 

Just having access to the Internet makes life so much easier. 

Not much happening. At least on the material plane. Not privy to the spiritual plane yet. Not really sure when that kicks in. I’ve been perusing news and enjoying my online access for 3 1/2 hours. Only 4 more to go. 

I found out Max managed to miss all of his first day of college classes because his classes were all scheduled during his hockey practice times. So he’ll start college tomorrow. What’s the rush?

I learned Donald Trump’s big convention surprise was cancelled due to the risk the winds from Hurricane Isaac posed to his hair. Will we ever find out what it was going to be?

More Mexican food. Preparing my body and soul for herbal teas and fasting. 

Whoa. Time warp. Remember I couldn’t figure what happened to those 2 hours. So according to my iPhone I arrived in Guadalajara at 1pm. I thought I was supposed to land at 3. I’ve been sitting in the Amex VIP lounge for 4 1/2 hours. Just for the heck of it I decided to ask one of the waiters, que hora. Turns out I did lose 2 hours but my phone didn’t show it. Its 7:30 not 5:30. Glad I asked. I board in a half hour, not 2 and a half hours. 

Gonna pack up and board now. See you in Mexico City.

Day One Part 3

Ever notice how ghosts are just hosts with a G? I’m gonna guess you haven’t.

My jet has a name. It is Daniela. Really. It’s written in big letters on the side of the plane.

I just read online that Michelle Bachman says we are looking at a spiritual hurricane. I can get that. Said no reasonable person ever. But in my current state, and for the 1st time ever I’ll give her some slack. OMG. What if I come back a conservative!

I love the uniforms the pilots and flight attendants wear in Mexico. So sixties. Great hats. They take the hats off during flight.

I’m the only gringo on the plane. I’m not even going to understand the safety talk. I wonder if I look like a gringo. I bet I could pass for Mexican if I could speak and understand the language. But that’s not gonna happen.

Fell asleep just as the plane took off. Looks like I slept for maybe 30 minutes. Only 4 more hours until my 5 hour layover in Guadalajara. Still not feeling in the spiritual groove.

I bought myself a Fresca at the airport. I haven’t seen one of those in many, maybe 30, years or more. Uh oh, here comes the flight attendant with the drink cart. What do I say? No thanks, I have a Fresca.

Look at it this way, no matter what happens with this psychic surgery, at least I’ll be answering the question for all of us. Imagine if it works. You will all be heading for Mexico City soon. You might want to wait to book your flight.

I’m gonna say nada, gracious. See if I can pass for Mexican. Damn. I said nada, thank you. I don’t think she bought it. I think they know now. Yep my cover is officially blown. She came back and asked me a question in Spanish and I answered with “huh?”

Keeping this journal is more fun than traveling with someone. No one but me to tell me how idiotic I am. Well, looking around it appears maybe more people than I are having that thought. At least they are thinking it in Spanish so I don’t understand.

The farthest south I’ve ever been is the Caribbean. Not sure if Mexico City is further(or is it farther) south.

It’s kind of disturbing to actually be aware of the thoughts I’m having. I wonder if they would be the same if I wasn’t writing them down.

Yep. They are the same. I’m funnier than I realized. Probably not as funny as I think though.

Here’s what I know about the process I’m embarking on. Tomorrow I go for a consultation. Then I rest, diet and drink herbal tea for a day. Thursday I come back for the “procedure”. Here’s an article I found online: http://www.realitysandwich.com/magic_act

Then I rest for 4 days, dieting and drinking herbal teas. I fly back home next Tuesday. After that I’m not supposed to drink, have sex or drive for 40 days. How in the hell am I not going to drive for that long!!!!

This is exactly who I’m going to see. Hermanito Cuauhtemoc. Most of the article is about his mother, Pachito. She died and Hermanito now runs the family operation. Convenient that he was able to start channeling the same entity. I’m still not too sure about this. We always joke that I need a spine transplant. Now I’m getting one. Hot damn.

There’s a little kid on the plane crying in Spanish. He’s having a Mexican meltdown. Annoying in any language.

Speaking of idiots. If you’ve read this far and you think I am one for going on this trip then you just don’t appreciate my desperation. It’s no fun going through life with this amount of chronic pain and without being able to do so many of the things I love. I miss skating and being able to play hockey with my son the most. I would give just about anything to get that back. So this trip may be quixotic and far fetched. But as i said, I would do just about anything. Desperate, hopeful. I’m not expecting much, but I’m pretty sure there’s an actual scalpel with my name on it somewhere north of the border. So I’ll give it a shot.

Sometimes I feel semi-normal. Then I catch my reflection in the glass or someone I know will happily let me know how stiff and in pain I look. Thanks for letting me know. I had no idea. I’m not happy about this aging thing. I think of myself as the hockey jock I was in college, then I move and I am reminded I’m no longer that.

Just two more hours to Guadalajara. I may have miscalculated. It looks like Guadalajara is at least one time zone ahead. Maybe two. Either that or we are crashing.

Well we didn’t crash. Not sure what happened but I landed 2 hours earlier than I thought. So now it’s a 7 hour layover.

I found my way to the American Express Centurion Club. Nice. A little VIP action. Free wifi. I’m camping out here for the time being. 

Day One Part 2

Wow. It’s already 9:30 am. Where did the time go. For some strange reason I have Internet. Please god don’t let me find out I’m paying roaming charges. I hoping it’s wifi at the airport but I don’t appear to be on a network.

I should probably start acting like I’m on on a spiritual quest like in the middle of a Carlos Castaneda novel rather than a tourist but I’m not feeling it.

This is the first flight that I can remember that doesn’t involve me going to watch Max play hockey. I’d rather watch hockey. Unless of course this actually works. My kids are scratching their heads. I poo poo the dumb ghost hunter reality show they are so fascinated with. It’s about the stupidest thing on TV next to Snooki, the Kardashians and my fav, Honey Boo Boo. I do not believe in haunted houses and ghosts. I crack up at how serious the hosts of the show are. And yet I’m willing to entertain the possibility that a shaman in Mexico City can be a medium for an “entity”(ghost?) of an ancient Aztec spirit and might be able to do something about my pain. Nah. I don’t believe that either. And yet here I am.

 Boarding in 15 minutes. Going in to spiritual mode. I see Don Juan. See ya on the other side.  

Day One Part 1

My day so far:

Pachito Monday morning. On the shuttle to tj airport. My psychic experience. After being enthusiastically enrolled in the amazing healing powers of Hermanito, I figured why not! I’ve already had six actual surgeries on my back. What harm can a psychic surgery do at this point. So I bought a round trip ticket to Toluca, a town about an hour east of Mexico City. I’m unsure where  I’m going, who I’m staying with or what’s in store. But I’m open. Well, sort of. I’m skeptical actually. How can this possibly work. I spent an important early part of my adulthood immersed in a spiritual quest. Science of mind, a Course in Miracles, rebirthing, yoga, est. I “found myself”. Met my wife. Never looked back. Over a quarter of a century dealing with the “real world”, working, raising 2 kids and living my life I’ve lost my connection to that quest. I’ve also lived in varying degrees of constant pain. It’s worth a shot. Hermanito here I come.

I’m sitting uncomfortably on the bus. About to cross the border. Gotta remember to turn off my roaming. Ok. Done. Just figured where the data roaming button is in the iPhone. I’m still reeling over the $4200 bill I got from AT&T after one week at one of Max’s hockey tournaments in Toronto.

Bus stopped in San Ysidro. At least I think that’s what the bus driver said. My Spanish is not so good. Nearly nonexistent. I understand enough Spanish vocabulary. It’s just when they start talking real fast I get lost.

Really, how in the dickens is someone going to heal this back with psychic mumbo jumbo. Yeah. I’m pretty skeptical.

Uh oh. Some guy in front of the bus. Speaking Spanish. No idea what he’s talking about.  Oh yeah. It’s 7:09 am. I got up at 5:45. My flight isn’t till 10:30. Then I have a 5 hour layover in Guadalaraja. Woohoo. Gonna be a long day.

7:15. Leaving the U.S. I haven’t been to Tijuana in years. Curious. No one has checked my passport yet.  I wish I’d learned Spanish when I was younger. No idea what is going on. I guess he was asking for a donation. I didn’t give.

Hola Mexico. I’m in your country now. Hospital. Insurance companies. Taxi cabs. Dentists. Big line of cars entering the U.S. They asked to see my airline ticket, but not my passaporta.

Thank goodness for the nice lady behind me. My translator.

I haven’t see any drug cartel killings yet. Probably too early in the morning.

I’ve never been to this part if TJ before. It’s only a half hour away from where I live in San Diego but its worlds apart. I can’t imagine where they could put an aero puerto with all these hills.

I really have no expectation that this experience will help my back.

I gave the currency exchange lady $180 in cash. Did she give me the right amount of pesos? 290 pesos for travel visa? I think that was about $37.

Airport check in. A bit out of my comfort zone but I breezed through. I like the security here. Got to keep my shoes on.

People seem different but they are really the same everywhere. At least in airports. Same gift stores, lines at Starbucks, news stands, people going their separate ways. Just not as many attractive people as I see at most airports. Just me so far!

8:18 am. Getting hungry. Mexican food perhaps. Airport Mexican food in Tijuana. How bad can it be? Ordering huevos con machaca and fresh oj.

I’m curious. The shaman’s name is Hermanito Cuauhtemoc. My host’s name is Jose Cuauhtemoc. They are not related. How does that work? I guess Cuauhtemoc is a very common Aztec name.

Machaca, not bad.

No internet no wifi at the airport. I’m pretty addicted to my iPhone. Facebook, news, check my bank account, pissing off my conservative friends, seeing how badly my UBS stock is doing. Maybe I won’t cure my back pain, but at least I can handle my iPhone addiction.

Only 2 more hours till my flight.

Kid working behind the cash register at the restaurant. Totally focused on his phone. I used to be like that. Kids today. I swear.  I’m pretty sure I just paid airport prices for my machaca. I think it came to 70 pesos. I gave the waiter 100. Never saw him again. I love knowing what’s going on.