Hot Times in Juarez Trip Log--Day 1: Not much has changed

[rob...@robertgidley.com]

Not much has changed

Sun, Feb 15, 2009
6:10 am
Goodness it's early! Yet, here I am at SeaTac airport, listening to Ed regale us with tales of a guy who had a belt buckle shaped like a life-sized gun. For some reason, he had trouble getting through security. Go figure.

The airline we're traveling (American), doesn't just charge for the second bag, it also charges for the first bag ($15). This leads to a number of people lugging giant "carry on" bags that are millimeters smaller than the allowed size, packed with everything they can fit. They also seem to be wearing multiple shirts...

6:20 am
There are five TSA guys standing around the security checkline, where my belt buckle has been detected as a possible security threat (it set off the metal alarm) and has to go through X-ray. So four guys stand around and talk, while the fifth guy actually runs the X-ray machine.

The fifth guy calls one of the other guys over to show him what a vibrator looks like on the X-ray machine. The woman behind me tries not to die from embarrassment and I suddenly develop an extreme case of hard-of-hearing.

Your tax dollars at work!

6:40 am
Our departure gate (just past the Starbucks) is decorated with a large (20 foot long) fairy-tale castle. There's no real clue as to why, exactly, Tinkerbell's abode is slapped on the front of an airline gate, but it does lead to all kinds of questions about what kind of Mickey Mouse airline this is.

6:50 am
Apparently, a Mickey Mouse airline that wants to have a priest right up next to the pilots. Seems that Fr. Jim got upgraded to first class for free ("For the first time in my life!").

Well, not entirely because he's a priest. Seems that Guinea Pig Ed is a three million mile customer with American Airlines and they had a teensy problem. They sold too many seats in Steerage class and needed to bump some folks to first class. Ed got the call and was offered three seats--one for himself, one for his son Kyle, and a bonus seat.

So he picked Fr. Jim (we all heartily agreed), so for three and a half hours, the poorly paid parish priest is putting on the ritz.

When the airline lady found out that the extra seat was going to Fr. Jim, she leaned over to Ed and said, "Can you have him say a prayer for us?"

8:00 am
Here's a bad idea: Go to Google news and type in "Juarez." You find page after page of articles about bodies found in the streets, shoot-outs, and headless bodies found in the streets. Not until the third page of results do you see a non-violent article ("Two tons marijuana seized").

And I just realized that there are 13 of us. Uh oh...

9:10 am
The "Fasten Seatbelt" sign has been on for the last hour and a half and people are ignoring it to get up and go to the bathroom.

The stewardesses keep reminding us that we're supposed to remain seated while the light is on, culminating in this announcement:

"We are required by the FAA to tell you not to get up out of your seat when the 'Seat Belt' sign is illuminated. We could get fined if you don't cooperate!"

But a planeload of people who just paid $15 a bag aren't too concerned that the airline could be fined.

1:00 pm (Dallas Time)
El Paso, which is the American city that's right across from Juarez (where we're headed) is way and the heck on the left side of Texas, just like the song says ("Down in the west-Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl!").

To get there, you first fly past it to Dallas, and then get on a different plane, fly back across half of Texas in a westerly direction, cross into the Mountain Time Zone and then stop in El Paso.

Anyway, right now we're in the Texas Time Zone, which is an hour ahead of mere Mountain Time.

But we have an hour before our plane leaves, it's lunchtime, and we're in an airport--what a great place for lunch! (This is the way you begin to think after spending four hours crammed into a tiny seat having peanuts thrown at your head by flight attendants who don't want you to go to the bathroom.)

And since it's Texas, we all head towards the closest BBQ joint. Which turns out to be closed, so instead we line up in front of Fudrucker's--pretty much the only place that's open So it features a very long line, but we're not worried, we have half an hour before the plane leaves.

Meanwhile, Fr. Jim and Fr. "Stucco" Pete are standing in front of the candy store talking priest stuff. Fr. Jim was still full from this First Class Omelette served with metal silverware and hot towels and foot rubs.

1:55 pm
We suddenly notice that WE HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES before the plane "takes off," so we quick pack up our chow and dash towards the gate where they wave us on and we grab our seats and--say, where's Fr. Jim? Where's Stucco Pete?

Uh-oh.

While the rest of us mill around in the aisles fumbling with our carry-on bags (having listened to the whining stewardesses from our previous flight, we know that they can't close the cabin door until "all passengers are seated and carry-on luggage is stowed."

Meanwhile, Million Mile Ed talks to the pilot (who probably recognizes him) and explains that Fr. Jim was probably waiting for his sedan chair to carry him over to the gate, and forgot that he wasn't in First Class any more.

2:05 pm
And here comes Fr. Jim and Fr. Pete (who also had the wrong boarding passes, which didn't speed things up any). But now everybody is on board, all our carry-on luggage is stowed under the seats or in the overhead bin and our seats and tray tables are in the full upright position.

3:00 pm (Mountain Time)
After a non-whiny flight (mostly because there wasn't much time to go to the bathroom, so they didn't turn on the "Fasten Seatbelt" sign very often), we arrive in dusty El Paso, where it's a lovely 60 degrees.

We're meandering our way to the baggage claim when we spot a small mountain in a classy Hawaiian shirt and exclaim, "Fr. Dan Klooster!" He's the guy who runs the show here (along with being a snappy dresser) and we're happy to see him. Because that means we have a place to sleep tonight.

4:30 pm
We've met up with the people from Connecticut (I asked them what a person from Connecticut is called and they said, "A person from Connecticut," although Fr.
Dan pointed out that around here they called them, "Yankees") and we've loaded all our luggage on top of a van and piled into that van and another van and Fr. Dan's SUV.

After a quest for half-and-half (not a staple in Texas), we are finally approaching the Mexican border. I'm riding in the van with all the luggage, which is driven by Guinea Pig Ed who speaks fluent Spanish. I figure if we run into any trouble, I want to be with the guy who can talk to the locals.

Crossing the Mexican Border is not like entering America. In America, they question you, look at your passport and give you a certain level of personal detail. The
Mexicans just wave you through.

Except, of course, for our van. The border agents wave our van off to the side and ask (in rapid fire Spanish) why the heck we have so much luggage--enough for 30 people in a van with 13 people.

My suggestion would have been to tell them that we change clothes a lot. Fortunately, I'm not driving the van, Ed is. And Ed explains to them that we're carrying luggage for that other van over there as well as our luggage. They either believe him, or are impressed with his accent, and they wave at us to continue past the Army troops armed with automatic weapons.

(This isn't as weird as us Americans might think. Outside an airport in Greece, I once saw not only troops with guns, but a fully functional tank with a 50 caliber machine gun. Guys with M-16's are pretty tame.)

5:30 pm
We're at the San Mattias church in Juarez, where we'll be spending the next week. After unloading our bags, we go down to the same old bunkhouse, with the same old yellow door and find out bunks in the same old bunkhouse.

As Ed says, "Not much has changed."

Of course, a few things have that are very welcome: the rooms have proper propane heaters, there's a coffee pot(!), the bunks have sheets and pillows (!!). Gear is stowed and people start settling in with each other and those Yankees.

6:00 pm
Dinner is served! The food is all prepared by Magale Zuniga, the wife of the priest at this church (and several other local churches). Tonight is Bistec Milensa, with rice and pico de gallo and fresh guacamole and after a day of flying around the country (which also hasn't changed much) it tastes delicious and we all stuff ourselves.

7:00 pm
It's time for Fr. Dan to explain his commandments, of which there are 21.

"God can run the universe on 10 commandments. I need 21 to get you through a week of Juarez."

Fr. Dan spends a lot of time talking about the main commandment: Go nowhere by yourself. He's been doing this for ten years, has built hundreds and houses, had thousands of people through (most of them teenagers) and not had a single incident, which he attributes to diligently following that one rule.

The rest of the commandments concern logistics, avoiding projectile diarrhea (which, I will heartily agree, is something to be assiduously avoided), and not judging what we see by American standards.

Fr. Dan would like nothing better than for us to meet God in the desert, but he'll be satisfied if we return home with all our fingers.

=======
There are hand-made Mexican aprons ($10), placemats ($10 set of four), and quilts ($20) available for sale here. They are made by the Holy Spirit Church Women of Passion. They have a passion for cooking, sewing, and a passion for elevating their self-esteem by working to get ahead. It's all organized by our cook, Nogales, (and the explanation is translated by Ed), who teaches them how to do it and provides them materials.

If you know somebody who's down here on this trip, be sure to call them up and place an order for one (or more) of these handicrafts. They are really nice looking, non-cheesy quality crafts.

Also, feel free to forward this to whomever you think might be interested.

Tomorrow: Building begins!

Robert
Hot times in Juarez Trip