tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64592072905947903982024-03-29T01:15:44.909-07:00The Real Housewife of Ciudad JuárezEmily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.comBlogger158125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-67772272397562408052016-02-24T12:28:00.001-08:002016-03-11T20:15:20.056-08:00¡Benjamín!Benjamín Joseph Cruz came into this crazy world on January 23rd, 2016 at 8:17 am weighing 7 lbs 1 oz. He was breech and I delivered in El Paso via repeat cesarean section which Raymundo was able to witness via Facetime from our home in Juárez.<br>
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I hadn't planned for him to be able to watch, as the hospital policy stated that they only allowed still photography in the OR. I assumed Facetime or Skype would be out of the question. After I was already on the operating table, my sister asked the nurse if we could video in my husband from Juárez and they said that would be fine! It meant the world to me that he was able to see everything. I wish he could have been there to comfort me while I was shaking uncontrollably during the 3 attempts to get my epidural in, but you can't have it all, right?<br>
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My sister held the phone out towards me in the OR as Ray watched on with tears in his eyes. Now as grateful as I was that he was able to watch, it's still rough to see your wife on an operating table like that and feel so helpless and so far away. We're usually the types to accept the hand we were dealt in the way of our whole immigration situation, but in that moment it all felt pretty unfair.<br>
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After he was born, nurses whisked him off to be assessed due to low oxygen and glucose levels. My sister followed with the phone as Ray continued to look on, completely freaked out. At some point the nurse that was attending to Ben took the phone and talked to Raymundo, explaining exactly what was happening to our baby... in Spanish... via Facetime.<br>
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I still can't get over that. Bless that nurse.<br>
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For the next two days Ray and I continued to communicate via phone while Ben and I were in the hospital recovering. I had a horrible experience with my first cesarean so I had a lot of anxiety about my recovery. Luckily, my sister stayed on with me at the hospital full time while my mom and older son traveled back and forth from Juárez.<br>
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It was amazing to have my family there with me. Not just at the hospital, but for my sister and son to see where I live for the first time, and for my mom to make her 2nd trip, was really cool. I didn't envision my son visiting Juárez until he was much older, so their trip was a wonderful surprise. Honestly I have no words to do my feelings justice... I seriously do not know what I would have done without them here. Not a clue.<br>
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In the nearly 13 years it's been since my oldest was born, I had forgotten what it was like to care for a newborn. Sure, I knew I would be sleep deprived, I knew I would feel a bit weepy, I knew his schedule would take some getting used to, I knew it would be love at first sight. But knowing all those things, even from personal experience, didn't prepare me to experience them again. Knowing the date of my c-section and exactly what I could expect at the hospital didn't prepare me. Nothing can prepare you for motherhood I guess.<br>
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I learned a new word in Spanish during Ben's first days in this world as I tried to explain emotions to my husband. <i>Abrumado</i>. Overwhelmed.<br>
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I think my low point involved retreating to the laundry room and crying quietly (or so I thought) in the dark alone. My sister came in after me to see if I was okay and jokingly asked what I was doing in the dark and if I was "feeling my fundus." The nurses in the hospital kept telling me to massage my fundus and I swear to God I still don't know how to tell where my damned fundus is. Nor do I have the energy to Google it as Ben will be up any moment and my Googling is limited these days. Anyway the important thing is that she made me laugh in that moment of desperation, as only a sister can do, and I knew that somehow things were going to be okay.<br>
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And things really are okay. They're actually amazing. After a couple of weeks my baby blues subsided and everything started to feel a bit more normal. Ray has taken to fatherhood like a fish to water and that has been a remarkable thing to watch. His love for our son is such a beautiful thing to see and it only makes me fall for him again and again.<br>
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My recovery from the surgery has literally been night and day compared to my first cesarean so all of my anxiety was unnecessary. I made sure to get up and walk as soon as I was allowed and took special care to wear an abdominal binder which I feel made all the difference in the world.<br>
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We've had some bumps in the road with breastfeeding because Ben was born with a tongue-tie but we are taking things one day at a time. His tie was revised but we continue to have issues latching so in the meantime I am exclusively pumping. It's a stressful and time consuming process but I feel so blessed and proud to be able to get Ben my milk, in whatever manner that may be.<br>
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He's doing great and just celebrated one month in this world as of yesterday! As I shared on Instagram, right now he is really into looking out the window, white noise, being propped up, foot massages, car rides and the Lollipop song. He dislikes silence, diaper changes, wearing socks and idling on the bridge to the US! He is already bursting with personality and we are so excited to watch this little man grow up.<br>
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Even though I dreamed about it and prayed for it, I didn't ever expect to get a second chance at being a mom. And now that it's here, I couldn't feel happier or more humbled than I am right in this moment. We are so incredibly blessed.<br>
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<br>Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com139tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-59908409456341641372016-01-18T17:37:00.002-08:002016-01-19T04:51:47.286-08:00Tales From the Bridge IV<div dir="ltr">
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I don't know what it is about me that attracts assholes on the bridge, but where ever I go they seem to follow. I feel like I follow the unwritten rules of crossing. I keep to myself, I don't make eye contact, I don't cut in front of other people, I cross in the appropriate lanes, I don't leave massive amounts of space between my car and the one in front of me, I pay attention.</div>
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So why, dear Lord please tell me why, do I even have the occasion to run into so many lunatics while I'm waiting in line? I just want to go to work and then go home as expeditiously as possible and with little to no drama, <i>por favor</i>. Is that so much to ask?</div>
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Today's tale starts as I'm on the freeway driving towards the bridge. There is a truck of some sort behind me, riding my ass, even though I am going 50 mph on an exit ramp with a speed limit of 40. At this point, the truck can't pass me, but I'm not comfortable going any more above the speed limit than I already am and risk getting into an accident. </div>
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Once we get to where the lines for the bridge begin, I change lanes as soon as possible to let Speed Racer pass me because he is clearly in a hurry. He passes me of course and is now in line in front of me. At this point he rolls his window down and is glaring at me in his side mirror but I do my best to ignore him. I grab my phone and start checking emails. </div>
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Speed Racer continues to glare.</div>
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As soon as we pass the US check point portion of the line, he rolls down the rear window of his truck and begins to take pictures of me. Oh God. Here we go with the pictures again... I'm more uncomfortable with this situation than I was with that crazy girl last year because #1 he is a man, #2 he seems genuinely angry with me and I'm not sure why and #3 I am literally about to pop and have some serious mother-bear syndrome going on. I try to call my husband to see what I should do. No answer. I carry on driving, not looking up, and trying not to cry at this point because this man is seriously starting to freak me out. </div>
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Once we pass the Aduana he pulls off to the side as if to let me pass and rolls down his window. There is no way in hell that I was going to get in front of this man so I stop my car next to his, roll down my window, and try to grow some balls as I say, "<i>¿Tenemos una problema?</i>"</div>
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The man goes on to tell me that I should drive ahead of him. I tell him, in Spanish, that I am not comfortable going ahead of him. I tell him I am not comfortable with his behavior or his picture taking, and that I would just sit there until he drove on. He quickly responds in English that he knows <i>I</i> took pictures of him and that, "if I want to play, we can play." He is also seemingly offended that I've spoken to him in Spanish... you know, in Mexico, but I guess I can never win when it comes to that? Finally he mumbles out some threat about wanting to wait for the police.</div>
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Please. I want to say, please call the police. Please call them so that you can explain why you are harassing a pregnant lady who you felt was driving too slow even though she was going over the speed limit. I'm sure they would love that. </div>
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I don't say that though. You see I am having a baby in a matter of days and it just so happens that I left work early today with a bit of a blood pressure scare. My last 3 readings have been relatively high so we are on the lookout for any and all signs of preeclampsia. I went to the doctor after experiencing a headache that I couldn't seem to shake and had actually just left their office with orders to take it easy, relax and try not to stress out.</div>
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So no, you dumb motherfucker, I don't want to play games. And I'm tempted to tell him just like that. But instead I simply tell him that I didn't take any pictures, that he clearly lowered his window and took pictures of me and that I don't "want to play." I tell him I am tired and just want to go home.</div><div dir="ltr"><br></div>
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He eventually speeds off and turns down the same street I would normally turn down. I take the long way home instead and try to stay calm. The drive home consisted of me trying not to cry (unsuccessfully) and staring out my rear view mirror the entire way to ensure I wasn't being followed.</div>
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I honestly love living in Juárez but let me tell you, the line can just really suck it out of me sometimes. And I don't think I will ever understand why people act like that. Why make a shitty situation even shittier? Why go out of your way to cut people off and be rude and make someone feel uncomfortable just so you can be one car in front of that person in a fucking line? Is getting where ever you're going 30 seconds faster really worth putting that karma out into the world? </div>
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Now instead of staying relaxed as my doctor suggested, I'm likely going to spend my evening praying that this guy's just a douche bag who might share my picture on Facebook with his friends and not actually a legit psychopath plotting my early demise. </div>
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Thanks for nothing dude.<br>
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-52475848548415562212015-12-25T12:43:00.003-08:002015-12-25T15:46:00.265-08:00Christmas in ParralAt some point over the years we had fallen into a Christmas routine that blended both of our family's traditions. We would stay up late on Christmas Eve and drink and eat tamales and listen to music and then have a movie marathon on Christmas Day followed my idea of a traditional ham dinner with all the fixings.<br>
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We would always call his family shortly after midnight on Christmas Eve and the phone would be passed around from person to person as they wished each other a <i>Feliz Navidad</i>. And inevitably the phone call would end with Ray feeling homesick and nostalgic. He isn't a man of many words though so we never talked too much about it and I never really understood why he would get so sad. I don't come from a small family really but we are pretty spread out geographically and I've lived far enough away for long enough that I don't have many holiday memories of everyone together.<br>
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Last year, after being with my husband for nearly 10 years, I finally got to visit his hometown of Hidalgo del Parral, Chihuahua. I met his entire family for the first time and got to see what all the fuss was about with this town he lovingly refers to as Parralito. I still don't know why they call it "<i>el capital del mundo</i>," but it turned out to be a trip of bucket list proportions. For those of you who follow me on Facebook, you did get to see some pictures and commentary of the trip as it happened and you might remember that we had a bit of a rough time getting there to begin with. As it turns out, holiday bus schedules in Mexico aren't as reliable as the flight schedules in the US are. We were told we couldn't even buy tickets for December 24th until the day-of because a lot of times the drivers don't show up for work on Christmas Eve so they have to cancel trips entirely.<br>
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Needless to say there was quite a bit of uncertainty as we got our tickets but once we had them in hand the rest was gravy. We traveled via Chihuahuenses Select and I absolutely loved it. When you got on the bus they gave you a little bag with a pillow, headphones, a sandwich, chips and a pop. Each reclining seat had leg rests and it's own touch screen TV where you could choose from a variety of movie and music channels to occupy yourself during the trip. I was exhausted because packing, planning and a last minute midnight trip to the ATM in El Paso meant I hadn't slept the night before but between the beautiful scenery and my little touch screen I didn't get a wink of sleep on the 9 hour bus ride.<br>
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We arrived in Parral in the late afternoon and his family was more welcoming and accepting than I could have ever hoped for. Aside from one of his brothers that had lived in Mesa when we met, I had only met my mother in law and his youngest brother when they came to Juárez days after our move to Mexico. That visit was overshadowed by the stress of my initial adjustment to life South of the border though. I didn't have time to really appreciate our time together because I was so caught up with trying to find a job and a home that I could barely see straight. This time together was completely different. Special.<br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ray (center) with his parents and siblings</td></tr>
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We freshened up from our trip and then one by one family members started to arrive. Everyone seemed to have a hand in helping my mother in law to prepare the food, which was tamales and a rice with rajas de chile, corn and crema. They talked and laughed and listened to music while they cooked and it was all so overwhelmingly comforting to me. I instantly felt like I had known them my entire life and oddly enough, I felt at home. I went into the trip assuming I'd feel uncomfortable because I'm kind of a set-in-my-ways type of gal, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. <br>
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As the night progressed I saw more and more new faces, each one just as welcoming as the last. I met sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles and friends and friends of friends. I was amazed at how many people you could fit in the humble one bedroom home that my husband grew up in but as he had always told me, space was never an issue. We all danced and sang karaoke and played card games and <i>No Te Enchiles</i> and laughed and laughed and laughed. I honestly don't think I have ever had so much fun in my entire life. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ray playing <i>100 Mexicanos Dijeron</i> (Family Feud) with his nieces and nephews</td></tr>
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When midnight rolled around, everyone began to hug and kiss each other, one by one. I had never seen or even heard of such a holiday tradition and as I sat back and watched it all before me, the tears began to flow. There was so much love in that room. I really don't know what to say to describe it but it was just the most amazing, heart-warming thing I think I have ever experienced. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My<i> suegros</i>. </td></tr>
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We saw a lot of things that week in Parral. La Mina Prieta, the site where Pancho Villa was killed, La Puerta del Tiempo, El Palacio Alvarado... Those things were all cool, but nothing could top that moment of <i>los abrazos de La Noche Buena</i> for me. It made my entire trip.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iglesia San Jose in downtown Parral</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Artwork on the walls of the Centro de Documentación</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">El Palacio Alvarado</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">My <i>cuñado</i><span style="font-size: 12.8px;"><i> </i>Javier and I on a tour of La Mina </span>Prieta</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">La Puerta del Tiempo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Statue of Sr San Jose at the top of La Mina Prieta</td></tr>
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Obviously I wanted to blog about this a year ago but I guess life got in the way. That happens sometimes. We reluctantly decided not to go to Parral this year because I'm saving our money and vacation days for maternity leave. I'm really too far along to be traveling at this point anyway so we were back to our old tradition yesterday with the late-night family phone call. We had so much fun at dinner last night with our friends here in Juárez but for some reason as the phone was passed around at midnight, I found myself feeling that same sadness that Ray has always felt each year. That feeling I had never understood before... I finally get it. I found myself wishing we were in Parral <i>dando los abrazos</i> and celebrating with his whole family. It's a bummer that we missed out on the fun this year <i>pero ni modo</i>.<br>
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Next year it's on. And with our newest family member in tow!<br>
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com318tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-31176794708090929602015-12-13T11:33:00.000-08:002015-12-13T18:16:47.891-08:00Baby TalkI always had a plan in mind for how I wanted things to go if we were ever blessed with another child and each day God looks down at me and chuckles as he finds a way to humbly remind me that I don't get to plan anything in life.<br>
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I was going to have my dream VBAC no matter what doctors tried to pressure me into. But guess what? Baby Cruz will be gracing the world with his presence at the end of January via repeat c-section.<br>
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I was going to set up a strict savings plan to prepare for maternity leave by putting 100% of my husband's earnings in a savings account and eliminating eating out completely. But guess what? Ray broke his finger on the job in July and has been out of work ever since and I have an insatiable craving for Taco Bell at least twice week.<br>
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I was going to be a bad ass and give birth in Mexico to save my husband the experience of seeing his son for the first time via Facetime. But guess what? The birth would cost about the same in Juárez without insurance as it will in El Paso after insurance but in Mexico payment is expected in full before you leave the hospital with your new bundle of joy. Oh, and let's be honest; I am scared shitless to have a major surgery South of the border.<br>
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So life doesn't always work out like I plan it. What's new, right? Despite my seemingly constant complaints, this pregnancy has gone relatively well. I haven't gained any weight yet, which is perfectly normal for a plus size pregnant person and baby's growth has been right on track. I do have some issues with hypertension which have been controlled by medication so far. Oh and a little nighttime carpal tunnel and acid reflux but who's keeping track, right? Little Ben moves constantly, maybe 10 times as much as my first born, so I already have a feeling he's going to be a little spitfire. The nurses have referred to him as <i>un vago</i> on multiple occasions as he wiggles around while they try to chase down his heartbeat at my regular OB visits.<br>
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His room is finally ready to go, and I think he is one lucky boy. We have been blessed beyond belief by my girlfriends who have not only been insanely generous with their baby's hand-me-downs but they also threw me an awesome baby shower a couple of weeks ago at <i>Las Malas Companias</i>. Thanks to them Ben is all set up with a crib, stroller, play yard and car seat and his dresser is stuffed full of clothes! Between their generosity and the few trips I've made to Goodwill and Once Upon A Child, this boy is set. <br>
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To be honest, I'm actually pretty proud of his nursery set up. I'm not much of a decorator but I think I did pretty well. We found a dresser at one of the tianguis by our house for only $20 and were able to paint it to match the crib my friend Annalisa gave us. Then I got a little inspiration from a nursery I saw on Pinterest and went from there. I had Ray paint an old bookcase and table lime green and then I made some curtains to tie everything together and voilà!<br>
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Aside from a few last minute items, I think we are pretty much ready for little Benjamín's arrival. There are still some logistics that need to be worked out when it comes to his health insurance but that won't be able to be arranged until he is born. We can't afford to add him to my policy at work (which would cost nearly $400 USD a month) and do not qualify for Medicaid or CHIP because we live outside of the US, so we are opting to purchase his insurance from a provider in Mexico once his Mexican birth certificate is issued. I'm pretty nervous about that whole process but am trying to have faith that it will all work out the way it's supposed to.<br>
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Sort of the same faith I'm trying to have about Ray becoming a stay at home dad. That's been the hypothetical plan since we first moved to Mexico as it just makes sense financially. My earnings potential in the US is so much greater than his is in Mexico so the decision seems like a no-brainer. But that's easier said than done, I suppose. He has had a rough time all these months he's been out on disability but we both imagine that staying home with baby will feel so much more rewarding than staying home twiddling his thumbs while waiting for medical clearance to return to work. It can be a tough pill to swallow for any man to have his wife be the provider so it certainly won't come without it's challenges. That's where that faith comes in again...<br>
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I suppose that's a big part of parenting though, right? Good intentions and a whole lot of faith?<br>
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Wish us luck.Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-20613927551788835522015-10-24T13:20:00.001-07:002015-10-24T13:43:10.356-07:00Tormentas<div>
I remember watching Twister when I was about 12 years old and secretly fantasizing about becoming a storm chaser when I was older. It sounded so adventurous and intriguing. Fast forward about 20 years and it turns out I'm not very adventurous or intriguing. In fact I'd much rather live a safe, dry, boring life than live through some sort of epic, Blockbuster-worthy storm.<br />
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So imagine my despair a couple of weeks ago when I heard reports of a tornado in Juárez and couldn't get a hold of my husband. Friends were having to pull off the road because of the golf ball size hail falling and Raymundo was nowhere to be found. Some of his friends were in town from Parral for a funeral but I wasn't sure what part of town they were staying in so I just assumed that maybe he didn't have signal wherever he was. This happened to be the case. I felt comforted by the fact that the worst of the storm was reported to be in the Las Torres area and I was pretty sure he wasn't anywhere near there.<br />
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I was wrong.<br />
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He was actually right smack-dab in the middle of Las Torres at the time and ended up getting stuck near the area this video was shot in:<br />
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<i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Video recorded by Mauricio Vargas Miranda)</span></i><br />
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When he finally had signal he called to tell me that his truck had quite a bit of damage from the hail and the windshield and back hatch were both cracked. The storm left the whole truck looking somewhat pock-marked but not nearly as bad as some of the videos I had been watching all afternoon online. We are both bummed at the thought of having to deal with the repairs of course, but definitely grateful that it wasn't worse and it's still driveable.</div>
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As if we hadn't had enough excitement with that storm, hail began to fall again while I was working in El Paso this past Wednesday. Here we go again, I thought. I stood at the door of the office, staring at my car, willing it to be strong and withstand the storm as I briefly contemplated throwing my body over the hood to prevent a second vehicle from being marred by hail.<br />
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Dramatic much?<br />
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I ended up having nothing to fear because the hail never got much bigger than the size of a pea. No, the problem with this second storm turned out to be the flooding, not the hail. I got a phone call from Ray at about 5:30 pm that evening telling me to park my car behind the Oxxo because it would never make it to our house. The water was too deep. You see, Juárez doesn't exactly have a reliable drainage system for the most part so when it rains, it tends to flood large portions of the city.<br />
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I envisioned myself, now 6 months pregnant, wading through waist deep water for the 2 blocks from Oxxo to my house, with my purse and grocery bags over my head, like some sort of destitute tsunami victim clutching her prized possessions. Only all I had was a Walmart bag with some bread and a Styrofoam box of Chinese take-out and of course, this was no tsunami.<br />
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In the moment, I recognized that I was being dramatic, I really did. I just couldn't stop myself and see the light. Is that a pregnant lady thing? It had been a rough day in the hormone department already. The baby had been in a weird position all day and nothing felt right. I couldn't stand right or sit quite right or really breathe without being overwhelmed by pressure in my mid-section. I just didn't feel good and I wanted to go home. And it was movie night. And I was hungry. And I didn't want to deal with inclement weather.<br />
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We stood on the corner behind the Oxxo for a few minutes as we watched other cars maneuver their way through the flooded streets with the ease that marks a true Juárense. They're bad asses. They've done this a million times before. Just another Wednesday in <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Juárez it seems. </span>Even being here for 5 years now doesn't allow us to match their skill as they chose <i>just</i> the right route to get home safely. It was only after we saw a Mini Cooper avoiding the deepest of the water by driving into oncoming traffic on the wrong side of the road that we felt slightly more confident that our little Yaris could make it too.<br />
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Gordo and I switched cars, him in the Yaris and myself in the Trailblazer now and began to head towards the house. He instructed me to stay to the right of the road, as close as I could to the curb and to not let my foot off the gas. He would follow behind me in the wake of the SUV. We were in good shape until the truck in front of me came to a complete stop and I was forced to put my foot on the brake. The water was so deep I imagined it had to be pouring into our little car at that point but looking back at Ray, I couldn't tell. I was convinced that it was all over and that both cars would be out of commission. We would have nothing to move around in and would both lose our jobs and become homeless due to lack of transportation.<br />
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I'm laughing as I type this now, because I realize how ridiculous this all sounds, but I swear to you, in that moment, this all felt very serious. We all know I'm a bit of a drama-queen anyway, but throw in some pregnancy hormones and you really do have the perfect storm. No pun intended.<br />
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So this is how I found myself crying in the street, yelling to my husband that I hate this fucking city and I hate the fucking weather here and I wish I lived anywhere else in the world and has <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Juárez</span> ever heard of a fucking sewer system and I'm tired and hungry and oh my God my boobs are so fucking huge right now, I'm about to fucking tip over.</div>
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I ugly-cried like a spoiled child, listing my pathetic problems in the middle of the street as my husband listened intently. He knows I love Juárez and didn't mean anything I was saying but he let me have my moment. I could tell he was trying his best not to laugh at me which made me cry even harder because I knew I was being a complete idiot. He left both cars running for a while to dry out the motors and began trying to calm me down.<br />
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It's okay <i>vieja</i>, the car is fine. It's just a little water. <i>Un poco de aqua, no mas. No te preocupas, todo esta bien.</i> Don't worry, it's fine.<br />
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And of course, he was right. Everything is completely fine. Both cars are running fine. As always, I need to calm down and look at the bigger picture and as always, God quickly finds a way to show me how blessed I actually am. This time that lesson came with the news of Hurricane Patricia which was said to be the strongest hurricane ever recorded at sea. </div>
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Early Friday morning the tropical storm was upgraded to a Category 5 hurricane and had the potential of being catastrophic. I have a few friends in Southwestern Mexico that were caught in it's path but by this morning they had all checked in to let everyone know they were okay. Luckily it looks like less damage was done than had been anticipated and early reports show the Western coast of Mexico coming out of it all relatively unscathed, or at least with no deaths or damage to major infrastructure. I know flooding and mudslides will continue to be an issue though so we will keep the Pacific coast of Mexico in our prayers.</div>
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At the end of the day, despite the unfortunate circumstances, I'm grateful for the life lesson and grateful that my friends are all okay. Patricia ended up being a kick in the ass for me to realize how blessed we are and how much worse things could be. Here's to drier days.<br />
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-43961887129510507182015-10-03T14:34:00.000-07:002015-10-03T14:34:24.332-07:00Gender Reveal<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I knew Baby Cruz was a girl. I also knew Ray secretly wanted a boy, but he didn't dare say a word. We had wanted a baby together for so many years, I think he thought being choosy about the gender would just be selfish. </div>
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I didn't necessarily want a girl, I just wanted a healthy baby and knew it was a girl. If I'm being completely honest, having a daughter absolutely terrifies me. I mean sure, it would be fun to buy dresses and dolls and braid her hair and what not, but eventually this daughter would have the possibility of turning into her mother! Osea me! I shudder at the thought of having to deal with a 13 year old version of myself. But I figured God doesn't give us more than we can handle, so as terrifying as it was, I knew we would figure it out.</div>
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I already knew her name. We had picked it out nearly 10 years ago. Eva Marie. Marie is my mom's middle name. Done. The first gift we were given after announcing the pregnancy was a pink, Minnie Mouse walker. Perfect. Eva will love this, I thought.</div>
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My creative, thoughtful, crafty, should-seriously-be-a-chef friend, Veronica, offered to make us a gender reveal cake and I gladly accepted. It was really the perfect thing to do so that Ray and I could find out the gender together, since my OB is in El Paso and he obviously cannot go to my appointments.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Knowing I have no patience, on the day of my ultrasound she made not one, but two cakes. How amazing is that? I had my appointment in the afternoon and asked the doctor to determine the sex, but not to tell me. After the ultrasound she scribbled the gender on a piece of paper which was wrapped several times and then sealed in an envelope.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You would have thought I had presidential election results in that damned envelope with the way I sped back across the border. A few short hours later, it was time for the big reveal!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ray was completely shocked. <br />I had him convinced it was a girl.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was in such disbelief I made Veronica <br />show me the letter from the ultrasound tech.</td></tr>
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So it wasn't a little Eva inside of me after all! After some deliberation (you know, a quick glance at the list we'd been working on for a decade,) we settled on a name. Benjamín Joseph. Benjamín being the only name on our list that was loved by both our English and Spanish speaking family and Joseph being my dad's middle name. He will be Ben-HA-mín to Spanish speakers and Ben-JA-min to English speakers and that's quite alright with us.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We are absolutely elated to add this little boy to our family and cannot wait for his arrival!</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom, Dad y El Benny</td></tr>
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<br />Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-71343638389213783442015-08-06T19:16:00.001-07:002015-08-06T19:16:18.050-07:00Tales From the Bridge IIISo I have to start this off with some really exciting news. And I wish I could have some great, creative way to do so, but it's not happening for me today so I am just going to come right out and say it.<br />
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Ray and I are expecting a baby! I'm due early next year and we are both over the moon with joy. BUT, I sort of despise pregnancy. Shocker. I'm already pretty sensitive and emotional naturally, and my emotions while pregnant are a whole new level of (as my stepdad would put it,) P-S-Y-C-H-O. Today took the cake though because it was just a really emotional day from the get-go and it all started out on the bridge.<br />
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The line wasn't really any longer than any other Thursday but it sure did drag. They recently changed which side of the bridge that the Ready Lanes are on and ever since then it's been pretty chaotic. I used to wait about 15 minutes in line on the Bridge of the Americas and now I am waiting closer to an hour in the mornings. It's a little frustrating but it was definitely worse when we first moved to Juárez so it's almost not worth mentioning. Anyway so this morning I ended up in a line that didn't really move for long spurts of time and then all of the sudden the cars would advance quickly.<br />
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I finally got to the point where I was next in line at the inspection booth and ended up waiting there for a good 15 minutes. The person that was in front of me being inspected had been there for a really long time. There seemed to be a lot of back and forth, but I just assumed that maybe the passengers were asking the officer a lot of immigration or importation questions because I know that happens from time to time. But one car sitting there for that long isn't very common, especially in a Ready Lane. Typically a car will pass through the booth in under a minute, if even close to that. They ask the necessary questions, do their inspection and move on to the next vehicle. If there are any suspicions they transfer the car over to secondary inspection to look into it further.<br />
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So after a while I did start to think that it was weird that I was sitting there for so long. People behind me were honking their horns and whatever but I was not about to follow suit. I understand that there's no way we can know what an officer is doing and if/when they are just slacking and taking their sweet time. For all we know that car could have been chock-full of cocaine. So I just sat there but did notice that as the officer was inspecting the vehicle at the booth, he kept glancing at me and giving me the weirdest looks. I ignored it and went back to scrolling through my Twitter feed.<br />
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Finally it's my turn to be inspected. I give the officer my passport, I say good morning and proceed to answer his questions. <i>What was the purpose of your trip to Juárez? How long have you lived there? Where do you work?</i> Simple stuff. He was a little short with me, but that's to be expected, I suppose. Then he takes my passport into the booth and looks up whatever it is they look up on their computer. He spent a good amount of time studying the computer screen before coming out of the booth and asking me why I cross multiple times a day. I explained that I work Monday through Friday in El Paso and only cross once a day. He instantly became argumentative and went on to basically accuse me of lying and insisted that I cross into the US multiple times a day. Not true. I don't know what he was trying to get at but his demeanor was extremely offensive. His facial expressions alone just threw me off.<br />
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Then he went on to ask me for my vehicle registration which I have never had anyone ask me for on the bridge with the exception of one occasion several years ago when the El Paso Police was checking for insurance of all vehicles entering the US. Is it normal for them to ask for registration? Maybe. I don't know. But there was just something about the way this guy asked me. Like he was going out of his way to make things difficult. I handed it over to him and he took a nice, long, slow look at it before handing it back to me with my passport stuck in the fold of the paper. He looks me right in the eye as he hands it to me and gives me this long creepy look and says, very sarcastically, "Have a nice day."<br />
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I responded with somewhat of a blank stare because how the fuck do you respond when someone says something to you that they clearly don't mean? You don't have to tell me to have a nice day, Border Patrol. I get it. You're not here to be my BF. I don't need you to wish me well or tell me you feel bad that I live in Mexico or ask me how my weekend was or tell me I look nice. I don't need your fake, condescending, "have a nice day!" There are plenty of people working for CBP who are actually pleasant at the bridge and may wish me a good day and actually mean it, but if you aren't one of those people, I'm cool with that. I literally have never had major problems at the bridge and maybe I've been spoiled by all of the people who have been so nice to me over the years?<br />
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In response to his obvious sarcasm, I stared at him blankly, mostly because I had no clue how to respond. He quickly went on to loudly say, "Or not," with an irritated tone in his voice, "Or don't have a nice day, whatever!" Oh hell no. Who is this guy? I really don't know what it was but that last comment just caused something to click in my head and I became so angry. I don't know... I just felt like he was talking to me like I was a dog or less-than or not worthy of his respect or something.<br />
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I asked him if there was some sort of problem to which he announced that there was, indeed, a problem. "You have an attitude problem," he said. Whoa. Where did I go wrong with this guy? I was polite, I said good morning, I answered his questions, I wasn't argumentative, I gave him the documents he wanted. I don't know what more he wanted from me and it was more than a little frustrating. So that's when I requested to speak with his supervisor. And as soon as the request came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I try to be a person that doesn't allow people like this to affect my whole day but for some reason (pregnantbrain,) I just couldn't let it slide this morning.<br />
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My request got him all riled up. He almost seemed excited. <i>Oh yeah, let me get him for you, right away! Right now. You just just pull over here to secondary since you're in such a hurry but you have time to talk to my supervisor.</i><br />
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I never said I was in a hurry. After he told me I had an attitude problem, I told him, "Sir, I've been waiting in line for an hour," as I put my hands in the air hopelessly with a quizzical "what do you want my attitude to be like?" look on my face. "Well, that's not my problem," he said, "I just got here," he snapped.<br />
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Was I ear-to-ear smiles with a gleam in my eye, jumping up and down with joy this morning? Hell no! It was 7 am and I haven't had caffeine in 3 fucking months. I suppose what bothered me the most is that I feel like I have always gone out of my way to be polite to CBP. And honestly, in return I have had really great experiences crossing. I do think that my attitude has played a part in those good experiences because I believe that a person's attitude is infectious. Unfortunately today just didn't work out like most mornings...<br />
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I pulled into Secondary to wait for the supervisor at which point the officer asked me for my passport again, and then felt the need to ask for my car insurance (eye roll) and told me to turn off my vehicle. Again, going out of his way to be difficult. As I'm sitting there waiting for the supervisor I start to feel really fucking stupid. My eyes are welling with tears and I'm realizing that this whole thing is so trivial. There were no civil rights violations at play (which no doubt happen regularly at the border,) or anything that even warranted filing a complaint. If this guy is having a power trip and wants to talk to me like a piece of shit, tough cookies Emily, get over it. People are abused and talked down to and treated inappropriately all the time and here I am about to report this guy because he goes to work in the morning like somebody just pissed in his Cheerios? So not worth it.<br />
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The supervisor came over eventually and introduced himself and politely shook my hand. I immediately recognized him. He's seen me cross countless times before and has always gone out of his way to be decent and respectful. (Probably why he's the supervisor even though he's half the age of the guy who just finished giving me such a hard time.) I immediately apologized for taking his time but told him I just felt as though something had to be said. The tears started to flow as I explained what had happened. As I heard the words coming out of my mouth my brain was sending it fierce signals to stop talking but my words continued to flow as fast as my tears. I sounded all kinds of hormonal and I swear that poor man probably thought I was completely insane. I mentioned that I had never felt the need to file a complaint about CBP, not even the time an officer told me that my husband married me for a green card and would divorce me as soon as he got it, but for some reason this time was different.<br />
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He asked me if there was anything he could do and I told him that I really just wanted to tell someone that this man made me feel uncomfortable and I felt his demeanor was inappropriate and completely unnecessary. He talked down to me, told me I have a bad attitude and basically called me a liar and I wanted someone to be aware of that. The supervisor was sympathetic and asked me repeatedly if I would like him to do anything about it before making sure I wasn't late for work and wishing me a good day, genuinely.<br />
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Even as I'm typing this right now the entire thing seems absolutely absurd and I realize that maybe I am just totally and completely out to lunch. I don't know. I guess I really just wanted to check in here and vent about my silly experience on the bridge this morning that sort of ruined my whole day because I'm an idiot and I let it.<br />
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Any crazy, hormonal, pregnancy stories you'd like to share to make me feel less like I belong in a padded room?Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-34722512195530558132015-06-27T08:09:00.001-07:002015-06-27T08:11:20.904-07:00Father's Day in SamalayucaSeveral years ago when our move to Juárez was still in the planning stages, I had grandeur dreams about what our life would be like here. One of those dreams included using some of our savings to purchase a second car with Mexican plates which we would use to travel all over Mexico in our free time.<br />
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Unfortunately, I had grossly underestimated the cost of living on the border and there was no leftover savings just a few short months after our move. We never bought that second car and never did any traveling or exploring too far from home. I had overestimated our free time as well, go figure.<br />
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The traveling I had in mind hasn't happened largely because we try to use our vacation time to visit our kids, but that second car could have really helped out in the past few years as our truck broke down time and time again. I recently had the chance to purchase a vehicle through the company I work for and I just knew I couldn't pass it up. I'll be making payments for the next year that will make things really tight for us financially but I know it's worth it and I'm thankful for the opportunity. It's a little Toyota with a high reliability rating that's excellent on gas. Polar opposite of the Chevy we've been struggling with for years.</div>
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Knowing that we were getting the new car this week made it easy to accept an invitation from friends for a day trip to Samalayuca for Father's Day. Normally I would have said no, fearing that the Trailblazer would leave us stranded in the middle of the desert with no way to get to work on Monday. But with the promise of a new car on the horizon, we threw caution to the wind, packed up the truck, and headed South.</div>
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Thankfully the ride was uneventful for the most part and free from any car problems. There is a checkpoint on the way which is normally closed but was up and running last Sunday. The officials saw the Texas plates on our truck and pulled us to the side of the road. I immediately got nervous because although everyone had assured us that we weren't driving far enough into Chihuahua to need a permit for our truck, I was second guessing that as soon as I saw a man in uniform. However, it was no problem at all. After Gordo explained that we were just going to Samalayuca we were waived right along.</div>
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Samalayuca is just about an hour outside of Juárez, if that, and famous for it's white sand dunes. It's close enough that the trip doesn't feel like a huge production and far enough to feel like you're still getting out of town. The dunes are quite the tourist attraction and on the weekends they are filled with people four wheeling, sandboarding or just hiking. With the high temperature being in the 100's that day, we didn't go to the dunes, but instead passed them up to hang out by the pool at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Centro-Recreativo-Dunas-Campestre/307356226060508?fref=ts" target="_blank">Centro Recreativo Dunas Campestre</a>.</div>
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There were 5 pools, all connected but on 3 levels, a lake for fishing (catfish and tilapia), horses that could be rented for a ride around the campground and a very long water slide (maybe half a mile?) that was not operating when we went. There was a restaurant on site as well as a small store selling ice, matches, pop, snacks and other camping essentials.</div>
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The price to get in was 40 pesos ($2.60 US) for adults and 20 pesos ($1.30 US) for children and if you wanted to camp you would just repay that same amount as you leave the next day. There was a water spigot for washing, a grill at each campsite and a men's and women's restroom that each had 2 bathrooms and a shower.</div>
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There were a lot of people there so the pools got a bit too crowded and dirty for my liking after a while. I'm hoping that this was just due to Father's Day because I can't wait to go back and camp. I love everything about camping. Setting up your own little temporary home, cooking over an open fire, spending time with your loved ones, unplugged. All the necessary ingredients for a good time.<br />
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Up until now I never really knew of anywhere we could camp around here and it's something I really missed. My family went camping regularly as I grew up and while the Chihuahuan Desert is nothing like the wooded KOA campgrounds of the Midwest or Northern Arizona, it definitely has it's own charm and beauty. It's not for everyone, that's for sure. But personally, I can't wait to go back.<br />
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-73788214068359109322015-06-07T17:08:00.001-07:002015-06-07T18:06:39.935-07:00Sober Sunday Funday<div>
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Seven days ago I quit drinking and I'm feeling really, really good. There is obviously a long story behind what finally motivated me to make this decision but maybe I'll get into that more when I'm ready. Today is not the day. Regardless, my decision to put down the bottle has left me with the need to sort of reinvent my life in Juárez. Ever since we moved to Mexico, our lives have revolved around alcohol. That was never the case when we were North of the border.</div>
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In Arizona, I wouldn't gulp down an entire bottle of wine on a Tuesday night or start taking shots of tequila before noon on a Saturday, or drink a beer with breakfast on Sundays. I would have a glass of my friend Christina's homemade sangria on Thanksgiving or maybe toast with champagne on New Year's but alcohol was never a problem for me then.</div>
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Looking back, I see that I just couldn't cope with everything that this move entailed. I needed something to soften the blow. As an addict, I was naturally drawn to this miracle liquid that seemed to magically remove me from reality. The only problem with that is that reality was still there every morning. Now accompanied by a splitting headache, <i>ganas de vomitar </i>and embarrassment over what I had said or done the night before.</div>
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I remember coming home from a job interview 3 days after we moved here to find my husband drinking in the kitchen with his brother and mom. They had hopped on a bus from Parral to Juárez as soon as they had confirmation that we had arrived in Mexico. Of course they were in celebration-mode. It had been years since they'd been face to face.</div>
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So how could I resist that shot of tequila when it was offered to me at 2 in the afternoon? We were celebrating! We had made it, we were safe, we were together! Pour me another! <i>¡Arriba, abajo, por centro, al entro!</i> And then suddenly, there I was and nearly 5 years had passed, and I was still celebrating. </div>
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Nearly 5 years had passed and I was still at the same fucking party.</div>
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It's time to wake up. It's time to be responsible. It's time to realize that I am strong. I am so much stronger than I was 5 years ago. I am certainly strong enough to deal with my feelings and my life and whatever God throws my way. No need to numb myself with alcohol all the damned time. </div>
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I got this.</div>
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I'm not saying I'll never drink again, but I do think I lost my way and plan to take a nice long break from alcohol. I'm excited to get out and experience life and stop sitting at home in my cave staring at the TV all day. Although I do enjoy Netflix quite a bit, even sober, a Scandal marathon shouldn't be the highlight of my week.</div>
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Normally on Sundays we are both complete zombies. We waste the entire day nursing our hangovers from whatever inevitable celebration took place the night before. Today was different. We woke up feeling rested and ready to take on the day.</div>
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After cleaning house we went to see San Andreas at Cinepolis. Forgive me but I have to talk prices here people. 2 adult tickets for the matinee cost 110 pesos. 1 large drink at the concession stand, 47 pesos. Afterwards we strolled around the mall, stopping to smell some cologne at Liverpool and checking out the teacup piglet and Shih Tzus at Bichos.</div>
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We ended up at the food court and did a couple of laps before deciding on Taco Inn for an early dinner. I got tacos de pollo asado and a non-alcoholic sangria and Ray settled on tacos de bistec with a Coke. 134 pesos. I know, talking prices again, but I'm going somewhere with this.</div>
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After dinner we did a little more window shopping before getting a couple of ice cream cones on our way out. 40 pesos. I got extra caramel. 5 pesos. I know, I know, there's that price again. Here's why I keep mentioning it... </div>
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I've been quick to bitch all these years about how tight money is for us. And don't get me wrong, it is tight. But guess what? The grand total for everything we did today was 336 pesos. That's about $22 US and ironically about the amount of money we would normally spend on alcohol on the average weekend. So it's time to stop bitching and time to find some new hobbies.</div>
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Yes, it's time for a little wake up call for the Cruz family. And it's a welcomed and long overdue awakening. </div>
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-49977216647221084452015-03-26T20:44:00.000-07:002015-03-27T05:35:24.927-07:00Plot TwistIt's been 142 days since my last confession and years since I've taken such a long a break from this blog. Actually, I've never taken this long of a break. A lot has happened in the last few months.<br>
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I celebrated my 9th anniversary of being clean from drugs, visited my husband's hometown for the first time, achieved a milestone in my career that I have been fantasizing about for many years. Can you say million dollar branch? I wrote a blog about that but didn't feel like publishing it at the time. I was sick all winter. Like 3 months straight. Bronchitis after Thanksgiving, then strep, then bronchitis again, then the flu. I was going to write a blog about that but didn't. I hit a road-block with my writing that brought out some serious insecurities. I wrote a blog about that one too but... You know.<br>
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I can make a million excuses, but at the end of the day, I haven't posted because I just haven't felt like I had anything worth saying. I felt so pressured to publish something of meaning that I forgot why I began this blog in the first place. First and foremost, this was to be a place where I could journal my experiences as an American adjusting to life in Juarez. To communicate with my family and close friends. To let them know that I was okay. Hakuna Matada.<br>
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It was never supposed to be anything more than that. It was never supposed to mean so much or to be so stressful. I've missed the connection that this blog gave me and have been humbled by everyone who reached out to me with concerns about the fact that I haven't blogged. I'm sorry I haven't posted or if I've worried anyone. I've posted here and there on Facebook and Instagram but I'm quick to forget that some of you aren't into social media.<br>
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What have I been up to in the past couple of months? Well, I drank too much, I ate too much, I binged on Netflix too much and I loved every minute of it while simultaneously feeling the guilt that has come from my laziness and absence from the world. Being sick for a couple of months left me with poor habits. Staying in the house under the covers, eating a bunch of crap, having no desire to socialize or partake in any real-world activities. Simply put, I'm all fucked up. <br>
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I don't know a better way to say it. I haven't blogged because I've been embarrassed about my current state. Although there isn't really anything I feel I can't share here, there are certain things I felt were better left unsaid. There have been some developments in my life that have left me questioning what I'm doing. They left me questioning where this blog is going, and where I'm going. I feel a bit lost and a bit self-conscious and a bit desperate for change. That desperation should motivate me, but instead I'm just left throwing my hands in the air. I feel defeated, perhaps. Life is good. My marriage is great. Work is excellent. But this? This blog? All of this? I'm not sure where it's going. <br>
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Which is ridiculous because from the get-go, I had no direction. This was just my way of communicating with you. With anyone who felt like listening. Anyone feeling desperate and in search of a solution. With anyone who could relate. With anyone who was curious. With anyone who just felt like reading a story and didn't mind a shit-ton of profanity. In time it grew to be more in some way. And suddenly, it wasn't. It wasn't more, it wasn't special, it wasn't a solution.<br>
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I don't really understand what I'm going through but after reading the emails so many of you have sent me, I feel like you deserve to see me write myself through it. I feel emotional and irrational and pessimistic. Maybe this is some sort of pre-mid-life-mid-life crisis. Maybe it's too early to tell. I don't know. But I feel... Off? Not really sad, but definitely not where I was, and not where I feel I should be.</div>
Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-76167133716472875662014-11-04T04:01:00.000-08:002014-11-04T04:01:29.996-08:00En Mis SueñosI can't believe it. After spending nearly a decade learning the language, last night I had my first dream en Español.<br />
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It was quite involved and actually caused me to wake at 1:30 am in a fit of rage. It was a dream about a girl who was a cheerleader at my school who was plotting this horrible scheme to get me arrested. The person in the dream was someone I knew in real life and actually was a cheerleader at my school although we were never on the same squad because she was a grade ahead of me. Oh yeah, I was a cheerleader for 4 years in school. Different blog.</div>
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I suppose the details of the dream are probably not so relevant but it did involve me skateboarding, meeting a nice English (as in not Amish) boy, attempting to wipe my fingerprints from a red Solo cup full of vodka, flying (not in a plane) to Homecoming and also fist fighting with a member of my doctor's office staff. It was the Benadryl talking, no doubt. </div>
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When I woke up, the first thing I remembered was the Principal screaming, over and over, <i>"¡Mas vale que tus historias colaboran!"</i></div>
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She was referring to a boy whose testimony was the only thing that could prove my innocence. And as I laid there, putting the pieces of the dream together, I realized that the sentence didn't make sense to me. I didn't know for sure what <i>colaboran</i> meant. Of course, I could make an assumption based on linguistics but I've never actually used the word before and really don't ever remember hearing it. I looked it up immediately and it means to collaborate.</div>
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I don't even know if that's the correct way to say "you better hope your stories match," but that's what I dreamt. As I remembered more and more I realized that the entire dream was in Spanish. I'm totally nerding-out with excitement right now. As in, excited enough to be blogging about this in the middle of the night.</div>
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I dreamt in Spanish! I can't get past the feeling that this is some sort of right of passage... I wonder if it means that I am officially bilingual?</div>
Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-40212627300596992202014-10-29T18:15:00.000-07:002014-10-29T18:15:15.031-07:00Fiesta Juárez 2014Ever since the <a href="http://therealhousewifeofciudadjuarez.blogspot.mx/2011/07/25-things-i-love-about-my-ham-sandwich.html" target="_blank">Ham Sandwich Fiasco of 2011</a>, I've done my best to avoid reading the comments that follow online news articles. I often find myself wondering what life was like before the Internet, when readers just kept their quiet, psycho thoughts to themselves. But I am a Millennial, so that is neither here nor there. People tend to say the most asinine things when they are behind the protection of a computer screen. So when the El Paso Times did a piece on Fiesta Juárez 2014, I should have known what would follow and ignored it, but I slipped and ended up sifting through the comments on Facebook. <br />
<br />
It was the same bullshit that people have to say about Juárez anytime the city makes a cameo in a US publication. I guess I'm still a bit naive though because each time I read a hopeful piece about how my city is on the mend and that the violence is a fraction of what it was, there is a small part of me that expects a more supportive reaction from our neighbors to the North. Obviously it's not all lollipops and rainbows in Mexico these days, but in many areas things have calmed down significantly.<br />
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After reading <a href="http://www.elpasotimes.com/news/ci_26737793/once-popular-juarez-fair-back-this-weekend-after" target="_blank">this article</a> about a carnival in Juárez that is back up and running this year after a 4 year hiatus due to violence, I stupidly expected people to be more excited. I mean, El Pasoans are always telling me about the glorious days they spent in Juárez, "before the drug war." <br />
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They go on and on about the food and the music and the clubs and the tequila and the parks and the people and all the fun they used to have. And this is their big chance to have it all back again, all wrapped up into one event. But no. No, it's too dangerous. Despite the promises from the organizers of Fiesta Juárez for heightened security this time around, and the reassurance that times are indeed changing in the area, many people just couldn't be convinced. That's understandable.<br />
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Even though things are improving here, I don't mean to make light of the struggles Juárez has had. I know first-hand how it has affected people. We too witnessed corpses on the side of the road and lost friends in the midst of this... Mess. But at some point, we had to move past it and keep on living. Everyone does. And glorifying what is actually happening today in Juárez and living in the past doesn't help anyone. There are 1.5 million people in this city who need to move on with their lives and in a border town such as this, it's going to take some cooperation from our friends from the North.<br />
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Juárez is deeply connected with El Paso and vice versa. One cannot survive without the other. If people aren't going to Juárez to spend their dollars, then people won't be going to El Paso to spend their pesos. Without the trade and tourism from one city to the next, both would just be another dusty ghost town in the Southwest. Comments like those that I read on this news article only add to the real problem.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"I heard they'll be giving out free shots." </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Youth?!?!?! There wont b any youth the rate they goin over there.." </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Get up missing posters out if u go.....An have people crying on y this happened." </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"What so the cartel can shoot it up na I'm good." </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Everyone make sure to wear yur bullit proof vests..." </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Oh lovely a huge target for the drug cartel! Let's hope nothing goes down because I don't want those stray bullets hitting anyone here in El Paso!" </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"BYOG" </i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>"Nah I rather deploy and get paid to get shot at"</i></blockquote>
<br />
When was the last time these people were in Juárez? Have they ever even been to Juárez? Those were the first things I wondered after reading their responses to the article. I went against my promise to myself and engaged. I had to know. I questioned people directly only to find that they hadn't been in the city for years, and in a few cases, ever. <br />
<br />
So if you haven't been here for years and clearly don't know what you are talking about, why take the time to comment? Why feed into the negativity? Why glamorize and exaggerate the violence in a city you know nothing about? It seems that the people commenting usually live along the North side of the border but don't have any current ties to Mexico. I don't get it. That would be like me pretending to have some sort of first-hand experience with the tragedies in Ferguson just because I grew up in Kansas City. It's ridiculous.<br />
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I know I've said this before, but it's almost as if people want Juárez to fail. They want it to be some sort of dangerous, no man's land where anything goes and justice went to die. I know that sounds insane, but the more and more I talk to Americans about their current perspective of the city, the clearer it becomes. Maybe I'm over simplifying, but it seems as if by categorizing Juárez as no more than a crime-ridden, violent city, it makes people feel better about the US and it's current state of affairs. And of course, violence sells newspapers and magazines and books, right? If the media can continue to point a finger at Mexico, they don't have to stop to look at the source of the problem.<br />
<br />
<i>Look at those Mexicans, killing their own people, selling drugs, smuggling immigrants. Shame on them.</i><br />
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The longer America wags it's finger, the longer it can ignore it's drug addiction, it's archaic immigration laws, it's questionable policies on gun control. And eventually, the viewpoints of certain news outlets inevitably trickle down to their readers. I really need to learn how to just keep scrolling. No matter what.<br />
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I honestly didn't mean to go off on such a tangent, but people get me going sometimes. I really just wanted to share pictures of our night at <i>la feria</i>, sans bulletproof vests. Because the truth is, Juárez <i>is </i>rebuilding. Like it or not, Juárez is putting the pieces back together. This city is resilient and it's people are insanely strong. I have faith that everyone will see that strength in time.<br />
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To anyone who is in the area and still on the fence about whether or not to venture back into Juárez or go to this fair: <br />
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Go. Have fun. Don't listen to all the crap you read in the paper. Instead of reminiscing about the Juárez that used to be, go enjoy what it is today. I wasn't here before, but I know in my heart of hearts what Juárez truly is today. The city needs you to move on if this violent stigma is ever going to go away. The last day to enjoy Fiesta Juárez is November 2nd. Don't miss your chance.<br />
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<i>Diviértete.</i><br />
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-64715105771519131652014-10-21T17:28:00.001-07:002014-10-21T17:31:46.163-07:00Wrong TurnThe case of Sgt. Andrew Tahmooressi has been going on for over 6 months now. I first heard the story when someone shared a video on Facebook of some sort of Sons of Anarchy-esque motorcycle gang that was heading to Tijuana to demand Tahmooressi's release. The idea of a bunch of <i>gringos </i>showing up at a Mexican prison and demanding anything seemed laughable to me.<br />
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Then the whole story began to blow up in the media North of the border. Many called his imprisonment an "outrage." Eventually, during a Town Hall meeting, I saw El Pasoans demand that Congressman O'Rourke get involved somehow and get this man out of Mexican prison. People are reportedly disgusted that President Obama has not "made a call."<br />
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<i>¿Que que que?</i><br />
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If you aren't familiar with the story, Tahmooressi is an American veteran who was arrested for weapons charges on the Mexico side of the San Ysidro point of entry in April of this year. He claimed to have made a wrong turn somewhere and that he didn't actually realize he was entering Mexico. He had an AR-15 rifle, a .45-caliber pistol and a 12-gauge pump shotgun, all loaded, as well as several rounds of ammunition in his vehicle at the time. The fact that Tahmooressi was diagnosed with PTSD in March is the cause of most of the uproar in this case, which is still making it's way through the Mexican legal system.<br />
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I have been hesitant to say anything because although I have battled with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because of some horrific situations I have been in, I obviously cannot even begin to understand what PTSD is like for a war veteran.<br />
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I am truly grateful for any veteran's service to our country and can sympathize with his condition, but can I just throw something out there? <br />
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If a Mexican tourist drove into the United States, with a trunk full of weapons and ammunition, breaking the local law, no one would question whether or not he should be put in jail. It wouldn't matter if he was an honorable Mexican war veteran, it wouldn't matter what conditions he had, and it certainly wouldn't be acceptable for some member of the Mexican government to step in and "get him out." So why should any of that matter for Tahmooressi? <br />
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Well it matters because he's American, of course. Apparently Americans should always get special treatment. Duh. In fact, even after attempting to escape from prison, Tahmooressi did not appear to receive any type of punishment. According to news sources, he was instead transferred from La Mesa to a private cell in El Hongo, one of the few Mexican prisons which is accredited by the American Correctional Association, and then given 2 hours of daily phone privileges. After a hearing he had in August, he was given 20 minutes to spend with his mother, while Mexican defendants who also had court that day could only hope to catch a glimpse of their family members from a distance. All special treatment fueled by the media attention he was receiving North of the border, no doubt.<br />
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You know those people who are always hollering things about immigrants like, "when you're in our country, you better speak our language, you better follow our rules"? Why is it that those people are the ones who are suddenly demanding the exact opposite treatment for an American in a foreign country? I swear, the hypocrisy and entitlement issues that exist in the US never cease to amaze me.<br />
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In time, it came to light that Tahmooressi had actually been in Mexico earlier that same day and even checked into a hotel in Tijuana. Listen, I was skeptical of the whole ordeal even before learning that little bit of information because how does one "accidentally" go to Mexico? PTSD or not, if you're familiar with the ports of entry along the border, you know it'd be pretty tough to come or go without realizing it. I don't mean to sound insensitive, or discount Tahmooressi's condition, I'm just having trouble wrapping my head around the details. The whole situation just seems extra sketchy.<br />
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I've been thinking about it more lately because there is some construction going on at the bridge that I use to cross into Mexico so the lines have been extra long. It's given me more time contemplate the meaning of life and/or stare at road signs until my eyes begin to cross. <br />
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I wanted to take a moment to share some pictures of the signage you'll see before you driven into Mexico. For those who aren't familiar with entering Mexico by land, or maybe at all, the following pictures show the warnings you pass as you approach and then cross the US/Mexico border. Mind you, this obviously isn't the point of entry that Tahmooressi crossed, but from my experience, they are all somewhat similar. There are more signs than what I have pictured here, these are solely what I pass alng my particular route from the US back into Mexico each day. And to be fair, there is one more U-Turn sign that I missed. <br />
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You'll have to excuse the fuzzy pictures taken from behind dirty windows, there's a little dust in Juárez from time to time.<br />
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-78923590239836240132014-09-02T18:43:00.001-07:002014-10-06T13:58:44.069-07:00My Next 30 YearsThis past weekend I turned the big 3-0 so I spent a lot of time reflecting. Where my life is going, where it's been, changes I want to make, etc. Oh and I ate. A lot. I ate the entire world. And I annoyed the absolute crap out of all of my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/therealhousewifeofciudadjuarez" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and <a href="http://instagram.com/emilybcruz" target="_blank">Instagram</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/emilybcruz" target="_blank">Twitter</a> followers by posting pictures of my meals in all of their heart-attack-inducing glory. We partied with our friends all weekend and I drank like a fish. Like a 30 year old fish. But back to the reflecting...<br>
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I'm certainly not mourning the loss of my youth but I have to say, I honestly thought I would have life figured out by this age. Yet here I am. I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I still don't always make mature decisions. I still speak before thinking and talk out of turn and I'm not nearly as responsible as I thought I would be by now.<br>
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I do have a few goals in mind for the next few years and I'd like to list them here. I'm a firm believer that whenever you share your goals with others, it just makes you that much more motivated to achieve them. Because if no one ever knows that you intend to run a marathon, let's say, it's a lot easier to fail in privacy of your own mind.<br>
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I'm sort of tired of failing.<br>
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<b>1. My biggest goal, pun totally intended, is to lose half my body weight.</b> This goal is rather involved because in order to achieve it, I will need to quit drinking so damned much. And if I quit drinking so much, I will quit smoking so much because I only smoke when I drink. This would be an all over makeover, mind, body and soul. It will probably be the most difficult of all my goals because I have such an addictive personality and I have trouble understanding that I don't need something more than me to feel happy. I have trouble with the idea that I don't need to drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes or eat unhealthy foods to be happier, but I know it's true. This is obviously really 3 goals but I'm trying keep it neat here for all you type-As and keep the list to 10. <br>
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<b>2. I want to travel.</b> I want to visit my dad in El Salvador, to finally visit Parral, to leave this continent, God willing. I'd like to see New York City and Los Angeles for shits and giggles. I want to get my husband on an airplane and to show him the ocean for the first time. <br>
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<b>3. I want to have a baby in the next few years.</b> This isn't a goal per say but really just where I see our lives going. People ask me all the time if I would have a baby in Juárez because I think they assume my son isn't here for safety reasons of some sort. I think I've cleared that up in the past but I still get asked. I would hope that God will bless us with one more little one when the time is right.<br>
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<b>4. I want to write a book.</b> I have started writing the book but never really taken the process too seriously. It's time to buckle down and bust it out.<br>
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<b>5. I want to pay off my credit card debt.</b> I know I have spent the last few years whining about our debt and how much it weighs us down. We aren't fancy people and aren't really into fancy things, but you wouldn't be able to tell that from the massive debt that we've accumulated since moving to Mexico. When we didn't have money for gas or groceries, we put it on a credit card. When the car broke down, we put it on a credit card. When we wanted to visit our kids, we put it on a credit card. And the creditors in the US totally let you suck yourself deeper and deeper into debt. It's disgusting. When your debt to credit ratio is high, they send you constant applications for more and more cards offering another thousand here, another thousand there. And then when you're finally drowning in the debt, you start getting pay day or title loan offers. We're done with that. We cut up all of our cards last month and a person who can only be described as an angel has helped us devise a plan to pay everything off. We should be debt free by the end of 2016 at the latest.<br>
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<b>6. I want to learn a 3rd language.</b> Maybe French or Mandarin. I'm not sure which would be more useful in life but I'm going to start looking into it. I can already count to 50 in Japanese (thanks Mr. Inouye) so maybe I should start there?<br>
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<b>7. I want to learn how to care less about what people think.</b> Something that annoys me so much about my personality is that I am constantly worried about how my actions affect my friends. If I've hurt someone's feelings, if I left someone out, if I said the wrong thing. It's ridiculous because I find myself obsessing over situations unnecessarily because it's likely that the person I'm so concerned about doesn't give two shits about my feelings. I'm hoping that this is something that will get easier with age.<br>
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<b>8. I want to buy a house.</b> This is actually a much more attainable goal than it may seem thanks to Infonavit. Infonavit it a federal mortgage program in Mexico and many employees earn credit with Infonavit after working somewhere for a certain period of time. Raymundo has enough credit now to purchase a modest (i.e. small as fuck) home now and we're tired of paying someone else's mortgage. We won't be able to buy new in the area that we want to live in so it's really just a matter of waiting until something tiny and falling apart goes on the market in the right location.<br>
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<b>9. I want to get a green card for my husband.</b> Despite everything that's happened and despite my love for Mexico, I still want that for him more than anything. For us. So that we can feel financially secure, so that we can travel freely from country to country to see our families, so that one of us doesn't have to do back-breaking labor for 50 bucks a week.<br>
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<b>10. And lastly, I really want to learn every word to Juvenile's Back That Ass Up until I can karaoke it like a boss.</b> No explanation needed.<br>
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-40019420448804004652014-08-16T11:36:00.002-07:002014-08-16T12:38:25.252-07:00Kermés de San LorenzoLast weekend we had the pleasure of going to an event in the San Lorenzo neighborhood in Juárez. It was the first time we've gone and honestly, although this event is held annually only a couple of miles from my house, I'd never heard of it until a couple of girlfriends mentioned it to me a couple of days before.<br />
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It was sort of a combination of a religious festival, a street fair and a carnival. The city closed off several streets surrounding Iglesia San Lorenzo to have room for all of the carnival rides, food stalls and vendors selling artisan goods and the like.<br />
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As soon as we neared the area the sound of drums was overwhelming and you could see large crowds of people surrounding groups of people dancing in native clothing. Those people are referred to as matachines and they perform their danzas all day and into evening to honor Mother Mary, or a Saint, or more generally to worship Christ. The reason behind the dance varies depending on the tribe and the occasion.<br />
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These pictures don't really do them justice but if you check out my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/therealhousewifeofciudadjuarez" target="_blank">Facebook</a> and I<a href="http://instagram.com/emilybcruz" target="_blank">nstagram</a> pages, you'll find some videos of them dancing. <br />
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The matachines were spread out around the church and in the park area in front of the church there were stalls where you could buy traditional Mexican pottery, artwork, kitchenware, jewelry, toys, etc. We picked up the game Lóteria for a mere 25 pesos.<br />
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There were also carnival games set up throughout the area. The more popular games involved shooting darts at balloons and rolling marbles into numbered holes.<br />
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As we neared the end of the rows of game booths there were a couple questionable set ups thrown in the mix. This booth scared the absolute shit out of me...<br />
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I couldn't quite tell what the point of the game was and the tequila bottles popping out from behind those dirty stuffed animals just gave me the creeps.<br />
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Oh and Ray wanted me to show you guys one of the ticket booths... It's seen a carnival or two, that's for sure.<br />
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The food was delicious though, as always. I'm a big fan of Juárez street food so I didn't expect anything less. <br />
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Enchiladas and gorditas seemed to be the big thing but everyone in my group was in the mood for tacos. Except me. I wanted a gringa. No pun intended. <br />
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The tacos were reasonably priced but why someone would want to pay 5 extra pesos to eat intestines is beyond me...<br />
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I guess that's a taste I haven't yet acquired?<br />
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The streets were packed and definitely gave off that Mexico vibe that so many people have easily fallen in love with. Sometimes that feeling can fade away as I spend a large portion of the week working in El Paso. The culture, the vibe, the people... What's not to love? We had a great time and definitely plan on making it an annual tradition.<br />
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-44599488932143847672014-08-10T09:49:00.001-07:002014-10-06T13:59:59.505-07:00The Giving TreeI was going to write something profound and meaningful to celebrate the 4th anniversary of us moving to Juárez but instead I'm just going to talk about a tree because I am an ass like that.<br>
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I started writing this blog in July after tipping back a few too many and actually accidentally hit publish. So to those of you on my direct email list who got a blog full of drunken gibberish last month, I'd like to apologize. I aim to be only half as belligerent. <br>
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So about this tree...<br>
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A while back I was talking to my dad about the weather in Juárez and mentioned how much a tree in our backyard had blossomed since his visit. The truth is, this tree I spoke of started off as nothing more than a nuisance to us. <br>
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Last year a weed popped up in our backyard. Even though I've always dreamt of having a home with a garden, the truth is that I am lazy and have no desire to get down and dirty with seeds and dirt and give endless attention to said garden. So I never pulled the weed. <br>
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A year later, I had no desire to knock down the little bush that was the result of my laziness. Raymundo bitched and moaned about this... weed, but I just let it be. Two years later, it had converted into a full blown tree, but the trunk promptly split in two.<br>
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Fast forward to today, two and a half years later. I am discussing this once weed, now tree, with my father and I see that it holds so much more significance than I could have ever imagined.<br>
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Simply put, it's a weed that grew. It was neglected and left to grow without supervision. This little weed became a tree and in time the trunk began to separate. When Raymundo saw this he tied the two trunks together with a rope. The rope caused the original trunk to become even stronger.<br>
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In time, the two trunks have grown back together and are now joined as one. <br>
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Maybe I've had just a few too many glasses of wine, or maybe I am still riding high on the romanticism of our wedding anniversary or the shock that we've actually survived the last 4 years here but I can't help but feel that this tree symbolizes my marriage and the journey we've taken together here in Juárez.<br>
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To most, this is just a picture of a tree. For me, it is so much more. It is a reminder that each marriage has it's own unique ebb and flow. It's a reminder that when we question what's going on in our lives, God finds simple ways to guide us or give us hope. It's almost as if right when we felt like nothing made sense, or that the only thing around us was disparity, He stepped in and literally planted a seed. <br>
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Like our little tree, or the tomato plant that unexpectedly grew out of the drain on the cement patio at our friend Veronica's house in Juárez, or those poppies that <a href="http://www.amazon.com/This-Love-Not-For-Cowards/dp/B00CC6KMEO" target="_blank">Robert Andrew Powell</a> noticed in the middle of the otherwise barren Chihuahuan desert on the outskirts of town.<br>
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<em>"Hope is the thing with feathers<br><br>That perches in the soul<br><br>And sings the tune without the words<br><br>And never stops at all."</em><br>
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- Emily Dickinson</div>
Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-71641948111515791212014-08-03T09:10:00.000-07:002014-10-06T14:01:20.330-07:00The 7 Wonders of My Ancient WorldAfter nearly 4 years living in Juárez, there are a handful of things that leave me awestruck each time I encounter them on a trip back to the States. I've heard plenty of Mexpats comment that living on the border isn't like living in "real" Mexico but I never did fully understand that sentiment. To me that would be like saying that living in San Diego or Detroit is not like living in the "real" US because they are on the border. Nonetheless, I am left with a dropped jaw each time I make a visit to Missouri and see certain things that we don't have back in Juárez. And with each visit it becomes more and more apparent.<br>
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Here are 7 wonders that leave me marveling at their convenience or innovation every time I head North of the border to visit my family. Not to be confused with <i>the</i> Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, this is just about things that were once a huge part of <i>my</i> world. Not that I should be comparing a kitchen appliance to the Great Pyramid of Giza, but whatever.<br>
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1. <strong>Dishwashers</strong><br>
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A magic box that you put dirty dishes in and then they come out spotless and dry? The notion seems unheard of to me now. I'm blessed in that my husband helps out with all the household chores and my only real responsibilities here are to cook and do the dishes. From time to time I fantasize about what it would be like to have one of those magic cleaning boxes again...</div>
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2. <strong>Garbage disposals</strong></div>
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You mean to tell me you can put egg shells and Ramen and jalapeño stems down the drain and then flip a switch and it all disappears? #mindblowing</div>
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3. <strong>Bath tubs</strong></div>
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I will never understand why most people do not have a bath tub in Mexico. Baths use less water than showers and are just more efficient/cost-friendly all around. With that being said, I typically just took showers when we lived in the US, but it was always nice to know I could have a long hot soak if I wanted to.</div>
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4. <strong>Carpet</strong></div>
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Getting out of bed in the winter with that warm, cushy carpet enveloping your feet with love? Ahhhh... Here in Mexico floors are generally tile or depending on the area, just cement or dirt. Oddly enough we have all wood floors in our current home though. Regardless, I miss being able to just run the vacuum cleaner over the floors for a quick clean up. Now it's like, sweep the whole damned house, then bust out a bucket and a mop and ugh... No thank you. Raymundo!?</div>
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5. <strong>Drinkeable tap water</strong></div>
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The thing that probably shocks me the most when visiting my family is being able to drink the tap water. Really, in all fairness, we never drank the tap water in Arizona, but that was because it tasted like crap. Here in Juárez, if we drink the tap water, we get physically ill and small black flecks appear on our teeth. I know, I know, that was one experiment I probably shouldn't have done. I almost feel dirty drinking right from the faucet when I'm on vacation because at this point my brain is so wired to think that tap water is bad for you.</div>
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6. <strong>Refrigerated air conditioning</strong></div>
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Late summer is the time that I miss refrigerated air the most because it's somewhat of a monsoon season in Juárez and the heavy, sporadic rains leave the air feeling thick and humid. Humidity and swamp coolers, which is what most Juárenses have if they are lucky enough to have AC, do not mix. We turn ours off all together when it's raining and give in to the sticky, sweatiness that is a given. We just try not to move much or turn on any lights. </div>
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7. <strong>The DVR</strong></div>
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This is the most coveted of all of the wonders for me. When I first arrived in Juárez this was obviously the least of my concerns. But after the dust settled and we had a place to rest our heads and were in search of cable service, it came up. I still remember asking a woman at Cablemas how much it would cost to add a DVR. At first I just assumed the acronym was different in Spanish because she just looked at me funny. As I explained that I wanted to be able to pause, rewind and forward live TV and record my favorite programs for later she looked at me like I just told her I wanted to ride to the moon on a pogo stick. Apparently Mexico hasn't quite reached that level of technology?<br>
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The funny thing is that although these things surprise or maybe stand out to me more and more as time passes, it's not because I feel I need them anymore. I used to long for them to be in my life again but now it's slowly turning into a, "Wow, I used to depend on <i>that</i>?" type of a feeling. Not with all of these things, but with a couple. Like I would really love to be laying on some fluffy carpet and binge-watching Bravo shows off a DVR right about now.</div>
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I suppose the longer you go without something, the less you need it though. That's really become a lesson in and of itself for me.<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"></span></div>
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-10135916003987558442014-07-11T04:46:00.000-07:002014-08-02T18:06:28.029-07:002,555 Días<br>
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Raymundo,<br>
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Como nuestro amor creció con las cartas, voy a seguir la tradición. Y aunque todavía batallo con mi Español, creo que he mejorado un poco desde mi última carta.<br>
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Hoy te he amado por 2,555 días. Bueno, te amé mucho más antes de que nos casamos, pero hablo de lo oficial. Me recuerdo cuando fuimos a casarnos y me sentí tan nerviosa que no podia pensar con claridad. Mis manos sudaban, caminé en circulos. Hasta que olvidé mi bolsa en la casa esa tarde.<br>
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Y ya cuando estabamos allí, a punto de decir, "Si, acepto," tenía lágrimas en mis ojos. Y hoy en día te puedo decir que esas lágrimas fueron porque tenía tanto miedo. Había cometido tantos errores en mi vida anteriormente que no podía estar segura si estaba cometiendo otro error. No sabia que estaba haciendo, pero en fin, todo me salió bien facil, como que alguien más, o algo más me estaba dirigiendo. Tal vez fue el destino, tal vez fue Dios. Pero sea lo que sea, sabia lo que tenía que hacer. Lo que quería hacer. <br>
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Y yo se que hice lo correcto porque me has enseñado día tras día que eres el hombre indicado. Se que he equivocado durante los años. Te he gritado sin razon. Se que soy una controladora y a veces me porto como una lunática y soy más sensativa de que debo de ser. Pero no soy perfecta. Y agradezco que nunca has pedido que sea perfecta.<br>
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Los Americanos hablan de la "7 Year Itch," osea, <i>comezón del séptimo año</i>. Según es la temporada cuando parejas empiezan de tener dudas sobre su matrimonio y tal vez ganas de estar con alguien diferente. Dicen que pasa a muchos despues de estar juntos unos 7 años, más o menos. Y siempre tenía miedo de llegar a los 7 años casados porque no quería sentir asi. <br>
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Pero aqui estamos, y por ser honesta, la verdad es que ya he tenido mis dudas durante los años. Despues de que aprendí que no podía arreglar tus papeles. Despues de una pelea. Despues de una mentira, tuya o mia. Despues de mudar a Mexico. Pero cada vez, termino pensando igual. Aunque a veces me fastidias, y a veces quiero alejarte de mi, y a veces me molestas más que la chingada, siempre ha sido mi media naranja.<br>
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Me haces reir mas que cualquier otra persona en mi vida. Eres mi persona favorita a quien gritar, mi compañero de Netflix, mi amante, mi tutor en la vida, mi confidente. Eres mi mejor amigo.<br>
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Gracias, gracias, gracias por ser quien eres y por aceptarme como soy. Y cuando me equivoco en el futuro, porque estoy segura que lo hará, espero que recuerdas lo tanto que te amo. Espero que pasamos muchísimas mas años juntos y que nunca olvidamos de donde venímos o en donde queremos estar.<br>
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Con muchísima amor en nuestro séptimo aniversario,<br>
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Tu pinche vieja<br>
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-61597457945182611222014-07-01T20:15:00.001-07:002014-07-06T10:01:13.170-07:00Out and About @ La RodadoraI try my best to keep up with the immigration forums and Facebook groups so that I can answer questions from people who are visiting the US Consulate in Juárez for the first time. People are worried for their safety and obviously stressed beyond belief about their pending cases, but surprisingly, they're also looking for fun things to do during the time consuming process.<br>
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If I was just passing through, I think I'd be content to lounge in the hotel room the entire time, but well, I'm a sloth. So for the rest of the world, who is nowhere near as lazy as I am, I've decided to do my best to feature some fun things to do while people are in town.</div>
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Just a mile or so from the US Consulate, next to Parque Central on Avenida Tecnologíco and Teofilo Borunda you will find one of the coolest children's museums ever. If you ask me, it's up to par with the Arizona Science Center in Phoenix or Kaleidoscope at Crown Center in Kansas City.</div>
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There are a ton of science and art related exhibits that are geared towards children of all ages. And as you can see by the pictures that follow, Ray and I were more than entertained spending the afternoon finding our inner child. Another thing I loved was that everything was written in English and Spanish, and even the museum guides spoke both languages at most of the exhibits. </div>
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At 60 pesos for general admission, 30 pesos for the 3D movie (we caught a special with friends about the Great White Shark) or 79 pesos for both, it was well worth the fun we had.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">The archeology exhibit where kids can get down and dirty in the sand looking for fossils and whatnot.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Yeah... I don't know.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Raymundo learning about physics as he's lifted on a bed of nails!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">All different types of poop. For your viewing pleasure.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">A mini grocery store where little ones can enter on their own and make their own purchases with Rodadora dinero.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Too bad this isn't a video or you'd get to hear me laughing hysterically as he fell seconds later.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Raymundo vs. Robot. Guess who won?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Plenty of photo ops throughout the museum, with props! (Yeah, in case it isn't obvious, these aren't our hats) They even asked for our email addresses so the museum could send us copies of the pictures!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">For just over $6.00 US, it's definitely a good deal if you are searching for something entertaining in Juárez that is less than a 5 minute cab ride from the consulate or maybe 15 minutes from the El Paso border.</span></div>
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Hope you get a chance to check it out!</div>
Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-8697682356703614962014-06-28T18:33:00.001-07:002014-06-29T06:36:27.320-07:00Little Boys and Little FencesI went for a walk tonight and my dogs got away from me. They took off down the street on their own little adventure. A Bonnie and Clyde of sorts.<div><br></div><div>As I rounded the block, I ran into some kids at the neighborhood park.</div><div><br></div><div><i>¿Quieres que te ayudamos con los perros?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Si! Please!</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>¿De donde eres? </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Missouri, y ustedes?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>I didn't think you were from here! I could tell because of your hair. We're from Denver. Our mom got deported. Our dad still lives in Colorado. He sends us money. We miss him.</i></div><div><br></div><div>All of that in one breath.</div><div><br></div><div>From a boy who is probably no older than my son. Maybe 9 or 10? I was overcome with emotions. I thanked the boys for their help and choked back tears as I walked back to the house with Meeko in my arms.</div><div><br></div><div>And here I am, feeling more hopeless than ever. Immigration reform? I put it on the back burner mentally. I've given up on it because my heart can't handle the what ifs. And then I happen upon things like this. Situations like this. People like this. Little boys. </div><div><br></div><div>That little boy didn't know anything about immigration law. Or breaking laws. Or jumping fences. Or political parties. Or amnesty.</div><div><br></div><div>He was just a little boy who misses his dad and doesn't understand why he has to live in Juárez.</div>Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-66840853053291215832014-06-01T06:07:00.000-07:002014-10-06T14:03:01.645-07:00Bills Bills Bills<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; padding: 0px;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This is going to be a rant. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Paying bills in Mexico is a huge pain in the ass. The problem isn’t the money. I mean money is a problem, it always is, but that’s not the problem I want to talk about.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">In the US, I utilized things like automatic bill pay through my bank or automatic withdraw to pay bills with a credit card. I could pay my rent with a check. Here I have to go to different stores to pay certain bills and down to a bank to pay my rent. Actually, I can't even pay the rent myself unless I want to take half a day off work because our landlord's bank isn't open on Saturdays.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I know a lot of people have issues with the mail in Mexico. I’m constantly hearing stories from expats. <i>My sister sent me a care package and it’s been 3 months. I ordered a book online and it took 5 months to get to Mazatlan. </i>Sometimes the package has been opened. Sometimes items will be missing. I think a lot of it may have to do with the shipping company. I’m not positive but there doesn’t appear to be a national postal service here like there is in the US. I actually have a mailing address in El Paso (one of the perks of border living) so I can have packages sent there, but nevertheless, I still have a huge hang up with the mail. We regularly get our mail late and/or find it in the middle of the street because the mailman just puts the envelopes in the curves of our wrought iron gate instead of in the actual mailbox so sometimes it blows away in the wind. Irritating beyond all belief.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">None of this would really matter to me at all if I could just hop online and view our accounts and pay our bills. I know I mentioned this before in my <a href="http://therealhousewifeofciudadjuarez.blogspot.mx/2013/05/shit-i-dont-get-about-mexico.html" target="_blank">Shit I Don’t Get About Mexico</a> post and some of you schooled me about being able to pay my utility bills online. I honestly haven't looked into it because all of our money is in a US account and if it's anything like my automatic Netflix Latino payment, it will just become a hassle of international transaction fees and peso to dollar conversions and whatnot. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So if they don't mail in checks or pay online, how do most people pay their bills in Mexico? Well, there are a couple options. You can go to the grocery store to pay your utility bills at no charge or you can go to each company’s office and pay at no charge. At a convenience store like Oxxo you can pay your utility bills and also other bills (like Cablemas or Telcel) for 7 pesos per bill. Here’s the kicker. Once you reach the 3 days prior to the bill’s due date, you can no longer pay at the convenience or grocery store. So let’s say your electric bill is due on the 9<sup>th</sup> and it’s the 7<sup>th</sup>. You can’t go into the store to pay that bill because it’s too late. You’re not late with your payment, but it’s too late to pay at the "convenient" locations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Now you have to go down to the electric company’s office to pay your bill. Their office is open 8-5 Monday through Friday. I work 8-5 Monday through Friday. In a different country. And I drive our only vehicle to said job. My husband works 6-4 and is a slave to the city bus. This means he has to take time off of work and take 2-3 buses to go down and pay the bill. Two days before it’s even due.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So imagine the fury that runs through me when we receive our last Cablemas bill on April 30<sup>th</sup> with a due date of May 2<sup>nd</sup> and May 1<sup>st</sup> is Labor Day in Mexico. What. The. Hell. That was annoying. But obviously it wasn’t annoying enough for me to mouth off about it a month ago. What brought the whole mail thing full circle was an issue with the gas company.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We get home from work on Wednesday to see that that they have jumped our fence and physically removed our gas meter. They didn’t just shut off the gas, they removed the whole meter. Who does that? Holding our recent paid receipt in hand, Ray calls the gas company, ready to tear them a new asshole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">But instead we learn that we didn't pay a bill a couple of months back. We dig through our receipts and sure enough, don't have one for that month. Now did any of the bills after the fact indicate that we had an previous balance? Nope. Did we get a letter or phone call from the gas company? Nope. </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">While I'm racking my brain trying to figure out how we could have possibly missed this bill, Ray goes outside and opens the mailbox. You know, that little box that the mailman has never, ever used in the 2 years that I've lived in this house? Guess what he found inside? Yup, the missing gas bill. Classic.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Señor Mailman: Could you please be a little more consistent? Gracias.</span></div>
Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-32273963133187524792014-05-17T09:23:00.001-07:002014-05-17T09:24:24.556-07:00The Final CountdownOne of my fellow bloggers, Andrea, over at <a href="http://lifeonmarsimeantj.blogspot.mx/">Life on Mars... I mean TJ</a>, published a post earlier this week about her impending move to Tijuana. She is planning on leaving the US next month to reunite with her husband and described her current state as being, "<i>Exhausted. Sad. Excited. Homesick. Frustrated. Nervous.</i>" As I read her <a href="http://lifeonmarsimeantj.blogspot.mx/2014/05/t-minus-one-month.html" target="_blank">blog post</a>, I was taken back to the month before we left for Juárez. <br />
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We were in the final countdown. The house was all packed up and had been for some time at that point. In my pathetic attempt to feel like I had some sort of control over the situation, I concentrated all my efforts into the act of packing. The furniture was disassembled and protected with bubble wrap. Because we were leaving during monsoon season and had an open trailer, I purchased 20 gallon Rubbermaid totes to use instead of regular boxes. I bought red and green totes on sale after Christmas, 8 months before we planned to leave. I carefully labeled all of the containers and stacked them neatly in what used to be our dining room. By that point it looked like a full blown warehouse. <br />
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I spent every second of 2010 plotting and planning the move because I knew if I stopped concentrating on the actual move itself, I would have to start thinking about what would happen after the move. Looking back, I really can't believe I had the balls to do what I did. I'm not an adventurous person. At the time, I wasn't a faith based person. I didn't trust that everything was going to work out. I had no idea what would happen after we got to Juárez. And that right there is what changed me and made me into what I believe is a better version of myself today. I had to embrace the fact that I don't know what's going to happen. I can't control everything. And that's okay.<br />
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However, when people reach out to me about leaving the US to reunite their families after a deportation, I always tell them the same thing. Some days it's not going to be okay. Some days you are going to be curled up in the fetal position wondering what the hell happened to your life. Some days you are going to miss the US so much that your heart aches. Some days you will feel spiteful towards your spouse for the entire situation. Some days you will question why you moved at all and kick yourself for making such a stupid decision. But every single day will be worth it, I can promise you that. <br />
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Because it isn't a stupid decision. It's a brave one. And at the end of the day, when you lie down next to the person you love, you will remember why you were so brave. As you see your family grow together without walls or borders between them, you will know you made the right decision.<br />
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I don't envy Andrea's state right now. The uncertainty, the insecurity, the fear of the unknown. But I truly believe that George Addair was right when he said that, "<i>everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear.</i>"<br />
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<br />Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-72828367539361190482014-05-13T14:37:00.001-07:002014-05-13T14:37:18.821-07:00Thank You EllenI don't know who you are or how to get in contact with you, but I wanted to say thank you. This is the only way I could think to do it.<div><br></div><div>So thank you, Ellen. That was an awfully sweet gesture. I wish the best to you and yours.</div>Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-52721618685328621372014-05-10T07:51:00.003-07:002015-04-08T22:06:04.670-07:00This Love Is Not For CowardsSome time ago I was as hungover as they come and 4 hours deep in the most boring class of my lifetime when I gave up understanding the instructor. I scrolled through my entire Facebook feed for the first time in ages, looked up countless recipes on Pinterest and double-clicked on a few too many #livingthedream pictures on Instagram before I finally decided to delve into the world of Twitter. Several of you had urged me to log on over the years and although I set up my account back in 2009, I couldn't get into it.<br>
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A couple hours later, I was hooked. And a couple hours after that I received one of my first "mentions." Robert Andrew Powell had tweeted that The Real Housewife of Ciudad Juárez was "finally on Twitter." I have to be honest when I say that I didn't know who he was. I'm clueless like that. After Googling his name I learned that he was a writer, more specifically a sports journalist, who had lived in Juárez for a couple of years while shadowing los beloved <i>Indios</i>. <br>
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After reading a handful of reviews for <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/This-Love-Not-For-Cowards/dp/1608197182" target="_blank">This Love Is Not For Cowards: Salvation and Soccer in Ciudad Juárez</a></i>, I knew I had to read this book. I could see that this wouldn't be like the other things people have published about Juárez. This would be real.<br>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T0iFQ07r0WI/U24yzM4DDmI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/BOl9YJMJueo/s1600/tlinfc-cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T0iFQ07r0WI/U24yzM4DDmI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/BOl9YJMJueo/s1600/tlinfc-cover.jpg" height="320" width="217"></a></div>
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When I finally got my hands on a copy, I was sucked in from the get-go. Before the 3rd page I had read what is by far the best explanation of Juárez culture that I could ever even imagine. By the second chapter I wanted to watch a soccer game, and it must be said that I am not a big fan of soccer. It is the golf of sports to me and is something I watch when I want to take a nap. After almost 4 years in Mexico and a significant time spent without cable TV, I've taken a lot of naps. <br>
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By the third chapter, I was convinced that I was destined to read this book and that it was going to change my life. You see, Marco Vidal was number 12. My big sister, a fantastic basketball player throughout high school and college, was also number 12. I quit doing drugs on January 12th 2006. It's a good number. Then I read that <i>Los Indios</i> used the number 12 to honor their fans (i.e. the 12th man on the field) and right after I googled "how many players are on the field per team in a soccer game?" I just about shit my pants with <i>feliz</i>. Maybe I was just 3 vodka cranberries deep, but it seemed obvious that this book was written for me. I'm selfish in my thinking like that.<br>
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In the months that followed I spent a ridiculous amount of time pouring over this book. I would read sections of it over and over. Taking my sweet time. I took it with me everywhere, and it became a permanent fixture on my dashboard as I would place it there after reading each morning and afternoon in the line. I took it with me to the bank when Ray had to request a new debit card. I read it on my lunch break at work. It accompanied me to the <i>Seguro Popular</i> several times when Ray was under the weather for his ailment of the week. Someone once called me saying they wanted to say hi and knew I was at the same dollar store as them. How did they know? Well they saw a car like mine outside and recognized the book on the dash so they knew it was me. I became a little obsessed and wasn't sure why.<br>
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I had never read something that resonated with me so profoundly. It was so... relevant. This book depicts my love and hate for Juárez so perfectly, it almost scares me. The sporadic poppies that Powell notices in the otherwise barren Chihuahuan Desert as he makes his way to Cuauhtemoc for a match? That pretty much says everything right there. He manages to capture my love for Juárez while still showing the grit and grime of the city that I may have neglected to share with you. I haven't done it intentionally, but in my quest for positivity, I may have left out some details about life in Juárez here and there, for my own sanity if nothing more.<br>
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I couldn't quite understand my obsession until I finished the book. Months after starting it. I am a slow reader who is easily distracted by wine and shiny objects, but this was ridiculous. Every time I would sit down to read, I was quickly inspired to write something. In fact, since I turned the first page, I wrote 48 blog drafts stemming from subjects that Powell discussed in <i>This Love Is Not for Cowards</i>. Forty eight. </div>
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I got my first fine from the El Paso Public Library because I failed to return this book for far too long. And even when I did drop it in the return slot reluctantly, I still hadn't finished it.<br>
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Why? For the longest time, I couldn't figure it out. I see now that I didn't want to finish it. It had become a friend. It became someone who understood my journey, someone who actually got my struggle. Someone who knew what it was like to assimilate in this crazy city and everything that it entails. </div>
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And then I met Robert. </div>
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He came to town last year to work on a story about FX's, The Bridge. You know <a href="http://therealhousewifeofciudadjuarez.blogspot.mx/2013/09/my-thoughts-on-fxs-bridge.html" target="_blank">how I feel</a> about that hot mess. You can read his piece about the show <a href="http://grantland.com/features/as-season-1-fx-bridge-winds-author-lived-juarez-takes-issue-s-portrayal-border/" target="_blank">here</a>. </div>
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I told him my sad little story about not finishing his book. I probably sounded like a complete nut job but <i>ni modo</i>. As soon as I met him, I knew why I was obsessed with his work. I knew it the second I saw his faded macrame bracelet that read, "El Kartel." I knew it when I served him some <i>pollo asado</i> and a shot of <i>pisto</i> at my home on a weekday night and he said, "See, this is what I love about Mexico," as he moved his hands about in a grand gesture motioning at his surroundings.<br>
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That was when I knew the reason I loved this book. It wasn't about soccer or Los Indios or the drug war. This book is the diary of a man who moved to Juárez just a while before I did. This book is a love story between an American and Juárez. It is a love story with circumstances far different from my own, but so similar it's almost unbelievable. Each step of his story was relateable to me in a very special way.<br>
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I must say that the ending left me feeling a little crazy. Seeing reality in front of you in black and white can have that affect on a person. Robert is a man I deeply respect and relate to, yet at the same time that he decided to leave because the violence in Juárez became too overwhelming, I was packing up my trailer, border bound. His work left me questioning my judgement a bit, but reminded me why I fell in love with this city in the first place.<br>
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If you were ever curious about why so many people stayed in Juárez throughout the drug war, or why so many people love this city with ever fiber of their being despite it's obvious flaws, get your hands on a copy of this book. It's a compelling read that brought me solace during the confusing transition of hating and loving my life in this complex city.<br>
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And trust me, it's not about soccer.<br>
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Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6459207290594790398.post-4083992528290002232014-05-02T17:59:00.000-07:002014-10-06T14:26:09.957-07:00Tales From the Bridge III got in line in a good mood tonight. No, a great mood. It's Friday, I'm going out with friends tonight, it's Friday. Did I mention that it's Friday? Good times. The line was long, which is normal for a Friday. But the evening quickly took a turn for the worse. <div>
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Several lanes of traffic flow into two lanes going Southbound onto the Bridge of the Americas. Cars are coming from I-10, US-54 and Paisano. The 54 is my chosen route because you have less issues with people trying to cut in front of you in line. However, people do still try to cut in line, and it creates an extremely dangerous situation. I've actually been a part of an accident at this very spot that sent a little girl flying out of her seat and into the windshield. To cut into the line from the 54, you have to stop your vehicle. In the middle of a freeway. With cars rushing up to you at 60 mph.</div>
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Let that marinate for a minute.</div>
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So tonight, I have this genius in front of me who is leaving a good 15 ft between her and the car in front of her at all times. Whatever lady. We'll that slide. Then someone stops in the middle of the freeway up ahead to try and cut in the line. The traffic coming up behind is having to slam their brakes or swerve around the guy. This dude is a good 5 cars ahead of the lady in front of me at this point, but what does she do? She stops, waits to let the person cut. Okay, maybe it's a friend of hers. That's cool. </div>
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Then she does it again. Every car behind me is honking repeatedly at this woman and she looks at me in her review mirror making weird faces like I'm insane. Surely she couldn't think I was making all that noise on my own? When she did it for the third time and someone had to slam on their breaks barely avoiding a collision with yet another person cutting I absolutely lost it. </div>
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I did one of those loooooong hard honks. Yeah, this time it <b>was </b>me, lady. Did you hear that? And then she stopped advancing at all, probably just trying to be cute, as everyone behind us continued to honk.</div>
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Pause.</div>
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Looking back, this is one of those moments where I do something I completely regret, but just couldn't help myself at the time. </div>
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I yell at her. Aggressively. At the top of my lungs. En Español.</div>
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<i>What is your problem lady?! You are going to cause an accident!! It's not my problem that you don't have anywhere to go but that doesn't mean you need to piss off everyone else or cause a bunch of accidents!!</i></div>
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Yeah.</div>
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Normal people would have just flipped her off. But I wanted her to understand why we were all honking because clearly she wasn't getting it. Even though I was embarrassed for losing my cool, I have to admit, I felt much better getting all that off my chest. I grabbed my phone and posted something on Facebook about how idiots bring out the worst in me when the lady sticks her phone out the window and starts taking pictures of me. This is where the regret started to sink in because maybe this chick is certifiable and is going to hunt me down, chop me up into bits in a basement and put me in her Christmas tamales. My mind wanders.</div>
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To avoid letting it wander too far, I spent the rest of the time in line on the phone with my husband, planning our weekend and whatnot. By the time I reached the US checkpoint to leave the country, I was already over the whole thing. But this women, all 10 gallons of crazy in a 1 gallon bucket, decides to continue with her insane behavior. She waives 3 officers over to her car and has a conversation that I, of course, could not hear. </div>
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One of the agents comes over to me with a smile and asks if there's a problem. </div>
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<i>"Apparently there is. This woman was letting everyone come in off the 54 and cut in front of her in line and it was causing other drivers on the freeway to have to slam on their brakes. This caused myself and everyone behind me in line to start honking at her. I yelled out the window at her and then she started taking pictures of me and now here we are, taking up your time and causing everyone to wait in line even longer."</i></div>
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The other two officers come over to my car at this point stating that the lady is scared because I was honking at her for no particular reason over and over and that I took a picture of her.</div>
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You have got to be kidding me.</div>
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I produced my phone for all of the CBP agents as the people behind us continued to honk their horns incessantly in desperation. Here's my camera roll, no pictures to be found. And why would I want a picture of the back of this nut job's car anyway? They didn't even care to look at my phone. Two of the agents went back to speak with the woman a bit more and the other agent and I chatted for a bit. <i>When can Raymundo come back to the US? 2020. Oh man, that's a long time. I know, hey listen, I'm so sorry we're wasting your time like this. Don't worry, happens all the time.</i></div>
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I really hope that somehow this young lady comes across this blog and reads this: Mija, I did not take any pictures of you. You did, however, feel the need to take pictures of me for whatever reason, but I could care less. Not sure if you just wanted to play the poor victim with Border Patrol, but you don't have to be afraid of me. However, if you keep acting like such an idiot, I would assume you will regularly encounter people in your lifetime that you will need to be afraid of.</div>
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End rant.</div>
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<div>Damn.</div>
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Happy Friday?</div>
Emily Bonderer Cruzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02536825702643241250noreply@blogger.com11