It Was the "Nieve"

Carlos Brito drove John and me to the airport in Mexico City on a crystal clear morning. I had never seen Popocatepetl so clearly, but I couldn't get a good shot on my camera because we were driving. In some places on the road to Mexcio City we were above 8,000 feet "pie", and the fluffy clouds were clustered around peaks below us. I am aware of the beautiful exit through the mountains we made from Cuernavaca last week and I'm thankful.

Carlos is the assistant director of the first school I attended, IDEAL. He is a generous conversation partner in Spanish. He noticed that after three more weeks of Spanish school at the Diocese of Cuernavaca I was not only able to understand him better, but I was also able to carry on more of a conversation with him this time. He commented on my progress and I felt like bursting with pride like a "school girl." (I feel so silly bursting with pride like that at 52!)

Carlos asked me about some of the places I'd gone with the bishop and the work I had done. I told him about concelebrating at the cathedral. I told him about the dear people of San Marcos Alpulyeca. I told him that I had become ill the day after the "pot luck" there. Then Carlos asked me if I had eaten the "nieve" (the flavored ice). It's really popular in Alpulyeca. It was the best nieve I had in Mexico. So I said, "Of course". The bishop and I had limon and Luis had "kiss of an angel", cherry.

Carlos said that the roadside "nieve" stand in Alpulyeca has a reputation for delicious nieve, but it also has a reputation for using questionable water sources for their ice. He said he always recommends against his students eating the nieve. He said he was sure it was the nieve that made me so sick, not the delicious chicken at the pot luck.

So, I apologize to the good folks of San Marcos, Alpulyeca. I loved the chicken dish at the pot luck supper. I enjoyed the lemons that Luis shook down from their lemon tree in the front yard of the church.

I'm in Plainfield now and am trying out my Spanish. On Thursday I went to a Latino restaurant and had my usual 2:00 p.m. "comida sopa de pollo." The waitress asked if I wanted "arroz" (rice). Then she asked if I wanted tortillas. "Si" to both. I asked for a "serviet." I forgot the correct word for napkin. She corrected me, "servilleta." I called her "mi maestra."

I saw on the television in the restaurant that August 10 was Equador's Independence Day. So I came home and wrote Gorqui, my Spanish teacher here who is from Equador a note of "Felicidades" in Spanish. I wrote Bishop Delgado, Rodolfo and the family an email message in Spanish as well. I told them my goal was to practice Spanish in some way every day; email, letters, eating at Latino restaurants or talking with friends in Spanish. (I enjoyed saying some Spanish words to our church treasurer John on the phone last week. Thanks, John!)

My neighbor Paco was at a gathering on Sunday. He is from Barcelona and has lived in Plainfield for 16 years. He is a social worker and explained to me how much more difficult it is now for immigrants in this country - legal and illegal. Now I feel called to learn more about immigration. My mother tells me that my great grandmother hid her children in her skirts on the ship that brought her here from Germany in the late 1800's. I found her name on the ship's manifest in the New York Public Library. I think they entered this country through Baltimore.

I think immigration involves children and they are the real victims.

Well, off to the bookstore. I want to read "Enrique's Journey." This might be a good study book for our Adult Forum at Grace.