Category Archives: Expat Kids and Family

Whale Watching

We went whale watching today, one of our Christmas gifts to each other. It was an INCREDIBLE day!!!!

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We were told we’d go out 3-5 miles to see the whales, but we were barely on the outer edge of the bay when we saw two whales:

All of a sudden there were three:

Before we knew it there were four…

We’d be with a pod of whales, and then we’d see another off to the right, and yet another off to the left. We were surrounded by humpbacks! We were told humpbacks often travel alone, or maybe in twos (most often 2 males or a male and female), but we were so fortunate today and saw several groups. By the end of the day, we way lost count of how many whales we saw.
Below is some video that Greg took of the whales, to give you an idea of 45 seconds of our day. It starts out a bit blurry but gets much better. Or,  click here to view the video in higher def.

Oscar and Belen from Onca Exploraciones RoCK!!! If you haven’t gone out with them yet, you definitely need to. I have gone whale watching about eight times in my life, I’ve seen much bigger whales (blue whales vs. humpbacks, for example), and Danny and I even spent ten days at a marine biology camp, but this was really special. The boat, Oscar, and Belen are pictured below (Belen is in the middle in the photo on the right; Oscar’s photo is blurry because he’s always moving and speaks with passion—surely no photographer error, lol):



Oscar and Belen are both marine biologists. Oscar is working on his PhD research, a project to photo-ID the whales that frequent the waters of Mazatlán. Amazingly, to date this has not been done. Over the past three years, Oscar has photo-identified 174 different whales. Like human fingerprints, whales have unique visual identifiers, often the underside of their tail fins, sometimes also the scars they bear, and this is what they track. I post a couple of photos of flukes below, so you can see the uniqueness, as well as a close-up of some scarring, to give you an idea of how they ID the whales. Oscar, if I’m wrong about this, let me know and I’ll correct this wording. Below you can see:

  1. The first tail has white spots all along the edge.
  2. The second has barnacles or something stuck to the edge of the tail.
  3. The third has specks of white on the outside, becoming more fully white in the center underside of the tail.
  4. The fourth has white on either side, but a black triangle in the center underside of its tail.
  5. The last photo below shows some typical scarring, which can also help identify the whales.




So, anyway, their goal is to take photos of the whales and give each of them a name or identification, so that they can then be tracked and their patterns learned. The good thing for us is we get to ride along. It is a small boat—maximum six passengers, so we were able to get very close to the whales. We were able to get so close that we felt we could almost reach out and touch the gorgeous creatures. Danny and our neighbor Brian wanted to jump out of the boat and swim with the cetaceans.

 

 

 

 

 

Oscar gave us a pre-trip briefing on whales, particularly humpbacks. We learned a lot both before departure and during the cruise. For example, humpbacks are balleen whales. There are three main northern Pacific groups: those that migrate from the Arctic to Japan, those that go from Alaska to Hawaii, and the whales we see here, that migrate along the coast of North America. The humpbacks have striations on their stomachs, the wrinkles we have all seen in pictures. We learned these are like stretch marks (my analogy :)), so that the whales’ stomachs can stretch out when they suck in a bunch of plankton and water, and so that the stomachs resize themselves to normal when the whales push out all that extra water. We learned that when the humpbacks are up north, in the summer, they eat and eat and eat, storing up blubber. Then, when they come south, they don’t eat for four months or more! Down south here is their breeding ground, where they have their babies. The adult males are busy showing off for the adult females, since there seem to be MANY more males than females, and great demand to win the honor of partnering with a lady whale. The men sing to attract the women; the longer the song, the stronger his lungs. The men also fight to attract the women, or at least to establish their ranking in the whale hierarchy and be the first in line to collect their winnings… We saw whales thrashing around a lot. Typical me, I delighted in the fact that they were playing. No, Oscar told me, they are actually fighting with each other–hitting one another with their fins, and we even saw some jumping on top of one another as if they were wrestling. A slide show is below:

Whales Fighting

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Today was the first day of Christmas break, so of course Danny was NOT excited when he had to wake up for a 7:30 am rendezvous in the marina:

But, after a few whales, here’s what the teenager had to say about the day:

The thing that made this trip so different for me was the SOUND. It is quiet out there, with the motor off and only a few people on board the boat. If you’ve been out in a sailboat, you know the feeling. But, when you are in the midst of so many whales, what you hear is silence plus, suddenly, the whales breeching, or blowing; you can even hear them breathing…. it is sooooo beautiful! The first photo below you can see a whale’s blowhole, on the whale on the left. The second photo below shows a humpback’s head.

 
National Geographic Traveler highlighted whale watching in Mazatlán as one of the great adventures on our planet. 🙂

 

Whales Diving

Finally, let me conclude this blog post with one last slideshow, of a humpback taking a dive. Merry Christmas and happy new year!

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Monster Truck Show – Mazatlan Style

Okay, so there is nothing new about a monster truck show, right? Well, despite my efforts to never write a blog post centered on “they sure do it differently down here,” I just cannot resist telling you that what happens at a Monster Truck Show here is inconceivable in the States.

Little things first.

The event cost 80 pesos, or around $6 US. Parking (on the street) was free, cold cervezas delivered to our seats were 20 pesos, and salchichas (sausages) were 35 pesos. The event was held at a “salon.” Sounds like something indoors, right? Monster trucks indoors? Well, we approached the entrance to what looked like a large building, gave over our tickets, and rather than walking into a building we emerged through the door into an open-air arena on the other side.

Medium things next.

It is 4:30 on a Sunday afternoon. The sun sets around 7:15. It is about 85 degrees F out and the humidity is about the same. As we enter the arena, there is little shade and there are no chairs available in what little shade there is. We decide to rough it in the sun in order to sit in front. As we sit for 45 minutes and watch things get set up, I start noticing all the empty white chairs in the sunny section of the arena. They are not filling up but rather, they are disappearing! People entering the arena and not wanting to sit in the sun like us are stacking up chairs by the dozens and relocating them to the spot of their choice with absolutely no regard for space limitations or courtesies. A shady area designed to hold 50 chairs at best is now holding over a hundred. You can’t get to the restrooms, as the walkway into the area is packed with chairs. Amazing.

In between “acts”, the MC entertained the crowd in various ways. There was an ugly dad contest, a mom with the most kids contest, that kind of thing. At one rather long intermission (after motorcycles and before trucks), the MC asked for a dozen girls to come on down to the arena. After he got his 12 young girls, he asked for 12 young boys. He ended up with around 18 boys, but he didn’t mind. Once he had them there, he lined the girls up separate from the boys and announced the “sexy dance contest”. So, here we have around 30 kids, aged 5 to 11 or so and they are supposed to “sexy dance”. He would have the music play for 30 seconds, stop it, and eliminate a few kids. This went on and on until one child on the contest. From the first sound of music, it was obvious to everyone who would win. While most of the kids just stood there or swayed back and forth a little bit, two standouts emerged. A little boy, no more than 5, took off his shirt, started gyrating around and passing the shirt back and forth under his legs. A little girl around 10 or 11, who was around 30 or 40 pounds overweight, started thrusting and “dirty dancing” by herself. It was incredible. As the contest got down to the final four, the MC stopped everything and asked the four finalists to introduce themselves and indicate who had brought them that day. After that was done, the MC said to the parents, uncles and grandparents that what he was seeing performed by these children was not taught in school and asked where the kids had learned such moves. Anyhow, when all was said and done, the little boy was the winner as voted on by crowd applause. He won a poster and a T-shirt for him and his dad.

Okay moms, the big differences are for you.

We have all seen the “drive a car on two wheels” thing before, maybe at a circus, a car show or a county fair. Nothing new here, except that after the driver makes a couple of laps in his “Herbie the Love Bug”-inspired Volkswagen, the MC of the event calls for the bravest dad to come out and take a ride. One does. Next he calls for two señoritas to come for a drive. Two do. They climb in with the driver, and go for a two-wheeled spin. Then the MC calls for kids to come for a ride. A few dozen kids charge the field and after some unknown sorting process, six are chosen.


They cram into the Volkswagen, and take two, two-wheeled laps around the track. You can see them if you look closely at the picture.

We don’t need no stinkin’ liability waivers! Nor any seatbelts, helmets, or other safety equipment.

After the Herbie show, motorcycles start zooming around. Some men come out and erect a ramp, and the MC announces that he needs 15 boys on the field. Again, dozens run out, and 15 are selected. Next, the 15 are lined up on the ground, laying down, face-up and side-by-side, in front of the ramp. I guess it is too old-fashioned to jump over a school bus or something. Why not endanger a dozen kids instead?

I think maybe it’s ok for the first or fifth kids, but I wouldn’t want to be the 15th kid on the end. After the motorcycle successfully jumps over all 15 kids, they add a few more kids, and then a few more, until they have about 30 kids lined up. Again, no waiver, no safety equipment, no nothing. Moms, would you let your kids… Oh, never mind.

The kicker to all of this, if you look closely at the pictures, you will see that the wedge that angles the motorcycle ramp up was actually a guy from the crew! More kids? No problem; he just arched his back higher for more lift.

After the motorcycles and the kids, the bikes jumped through various burning things and then the monster trucks came out and smashed some old cars and that was that. There was one notable event in which a man climbed into a box, and they exploded the box. The explosion was so loud and so powerful that the earth vibrated, our seats shaking. But, hey, the man survived. Not sure with his hearing intact, but…

All in all it was an entertaining afternoon. Danny and his friend Enrique enjoyed themselves, as did Enrique’s dad and I. I like the idea that I am getting used to a culture that is not run by lawyers and insurance companies and allows people to have fun without worrying about the what-ifs all of the time. Today, however, I was a little blown away. I would think that by next year, when we do this again, I might be running out on the field! Just what most mothers want to sign their husbands and kids up for, right?

Tortugas Marinas/Sea Turtles

One of the many fortunate aspects about living on the beach in Mazatlán is that often, whether we’re walking the beach or the malecón, or sitting on the beach eating lunch or dinner, a marine turtle may suddenly crawl up to shore to lay her eggs. It is always cause for joy. It is such a gorgeous miracle to witness, and one we can easily take for granted.

The season starts in September each year, and yesterday I saw my third sea turtle so far this year. The turtle is usually fairly strong as she crawls up onto the beach. She is obviously made for the water, and struggles in the sand, but she crawls up to well above the high-tide line. She settles on a nesting spot, and then begins to dig a hole in the sand.



The turtle then buries her backside in the sand, above the hole, and lays her eggs. They lay a LOT of eggs at once. After she lays her eggs, the turtle usually rests for a few moments, but she is also usually very eager to get herself back into the ocean, where she is more mobile and less at risk of harm. It is so very heart wrenching to watch the mother sea turtle make her way back over the sand and into the ocean. She has no energy left, she is so very tired, and she just struggles something awful. Most people who watch tend to start cheering her on from a distance. It’s a nice community-building event.

Here is a photo taken from our terrace of a turtle’s tracks, in and out, to lay her eggs. You can see the spot in the sand where she laid her eggs. This photo was taken after the Aquarium official had already removed the eggs for safe-keeping.

Sea turtle eggs unfortunately fetch a high price on the black market. I think people eat them as an aphrodisiac. Some people also kill the endangered turtles; “caguama” is a beloved, though black market, dish for many Mazatlecos, sadly. People use turtle hide to make things, and they use the oils in skin lotions and creams. Years ago I remember seeing a lot of turtle lotions and items for sale in the beach areas of Mexico. Fortunately these days we see a lot less.

I am no naturalist, but in doing some research on the internet, it seems we have three primary species that nest here on the east coast of the Sea of Cortés, Green Sea Turtles, Hawksbills, and Kemp’s Ridley Sea Turtles: http://www.greenpacks.org/2008/08/25/sea-turtles-endangered-marine-life

The sea turtles are endangered:
http://www.panda.org/what_we_do/endangered_species/marine_turtles/
There are signs everywhere on the beach that if you see a turtle, please call the police or the aquarium immediately, as they will come to keep the people away (so that the turtle can lay her eggs in peace), and they will make sure no one steals the eggs.

Despite the best efforts of most people, who keep a respectful distance away, there seem to be plenty of idiots who try to “help” the turtle by getting in her face and crowding her. Just what any birthing mother wants, right? Watch this YouTube for an example of some people’s heartbreaking behavior:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WXka-FQJvsQ&feature=related

The turtle eggs are taken to one of three local spots that I know of for hatching, the Mazatlan Aquarium (click on Mazatlan on the map): http://www.grupotortuguero.org/imap.php?l=1

Down south to Estrella del Mar (a golf resort that has a sea turtle hatching facility), and up north in Marmol. They regularly hold baby sea turtle “release” events, where the babies are released into the ocean. Danny’s been fortunate enough to release baby turtles several times, including with the Scouts. Each year his troop hikes north on the beach for 6-7 hours or so, releases baby turtles, then camps overnight and celebrates with a huge bonfire on the beach. Below are some photos:

And there is a YouTube video of a baby turtle’s quest for the open waters:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xthy69jHKOQ

Inauguración de la temporada de futbol

Danny has played soccer since he was about four years old. We’ve been through the routine: practice, practice, practice. Hand out the uniforms. Receive a season schedule, as well as a sign-up sheet for parents to bring oranges and drinks to one of the games. Take the group photo. Pay for the photos, and forget to send the photos you’ve purchased to friends and relatives, so that you save a whole pile of years of soccer photos in the drawer, untouched. Attend the games and yell and scream and have a terrific time with the other parents. Play in a tournament or two, and maybe win a trophy or medal. No ceremony for the winners; the medal or trophy is handed out whenever, after the close of the tournament. Have a swim party at a parent or coach’s house to celebrate the end of the spring season.

So, this is our first year in Mazatlán. Danny’s now in junior high. He was psyched to be able to make the school futbol team; he was worried his American skills wouldn’t be good enough down here, where kids have grown up playing street soccer every day. They do have great ball handling, but Danny’s fast, and a sound defender. He’s gratefully on the team.
Last week Wednesday we are told that he needs to be at ICO, the major school in town, tomorrow at 4:30. No other info. Forget that we might have other plans; everything here is always last minute (like hearing on Friday night that the first game of the tournament will be Saturday morning at 8 am, or hearing Tuesday night that Wednesday there won’t be school. People here aren’t big on planning and prior notice). On Thursday at school Danny’s told to bring 20 pesos, a copy of his birth certificate and school ID, and his PE uniform to ICO that afternoon.
So, we drive to ICO. We’ve taken a small camera, just in case. We are not sure what to expect. Sign-up for the soccer season? If so, we expect long lines, and figure that’s why we’ve brought the birth certificate and 20 pesos. Perhaps a scrimmage or a game? Maybe team photos? We have taken Danny’s soccer team uniform, shin guards, cleats and ball just in case—good Boy Scouts that we are, we are prepared for anything as we have no idea what to expect. As usual. 🙂
We arrive at ICO. No parking places, as it appears every car in Mazatlán is at this school. Obviously this is not a simple gathering but something major. We enter ICO for the first time; these Franciscans have some money—it is a huge school with new and well-maintained buildings, a central promenade of palm trees, and numerous gymnasiums, courts and stadiums. They are obviously sports nuts. The facilities are unbelievable and envy-producing. The crowd (hundreds of people, if not a thousand–a huge crowd) is walking down the palm-lined promenade to the other end of the school, which feels about three blocks away. There is a large outdoor covered auditorium, encircled by cement bleachers. We find Danny’s team and wait. We are surrounded by other teams, coaches, parents, cheerleaders, bands, you name it. It is definitely noisy and crowded. It’s a party. Everything here is; any excuse for a party. We love it.

An hour after the appointed time, about 5:30, we file into the auditorium. The kids go under the bleachers. Apparently there is a very large room down there, because there have got to be about 30 or more teams that gather down there. Along with the cheerleaders, pom pom girls, flag girls, drum majors, and bands. Ok, this seems like it’s going to be a big ceremony. We are now told it’s the “inauguration of soccer season,” the ICO Cup Tournament.

There is a head table. A few speeches are given. ICO is exhalted as a wonderful school about 11 times. Come on already. It’s nice of you to sponsor the tournament, but enough horn-tooting and advertising for the school.
A band plays. There is dancing. The teams are announced, and school by school they parade out into the auditorium, circle the main floor, and are seated. Much fanfare. You’d think you were at the Olympics.
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Another band plays. There is smoke and a light show. Fire jugglers entertain us. Several dance routines by scantily clad young women and primary school girls. Confetti is dropped from the rafters. Kids cheerfully jump to catch the confetti, amidst another laser light show and dance routine. Just like the start of the recreational soccer season at home. Ha! Not even pro soccer in the US gets this much fanfare. And I only have my little camera. I say about ten times how I wish I’d brought the good camera. Who would have known? We see our friend Bob Gallagher, and Maria Anderson. They both knew it would be the inauguration, but neither of them told us. We didn’t know they’d be here, so we didn’t know to ask them. Oh well, such is life in a new place.

Then, what we’ve evidently all been waiting for: the lighting of the torch. Two men, this year’s tournament heads, are handed a lit torch by last year’s tournament leader. The torch seems to be burning out of control. The two men don’t really want to hold it–it looks dangerous. One of them takes the torch, but seems to want to slam it to the cement floor and stomp on it to put out the fire. But, no, he’s urged to climb the steps, towards the fire pot, to light the large Olympic-style fire container. The man obviously is very uncomfortable. The torch is nearly burning his hand and arm off. He hurries. He lights the main fire container. While everyone cheers and applauds, the out-of-control torch is hurled to the ground and several men try to jump on it to put the fire out. But, burning liquid pours out from the torch, and we now have a fire show: a three-meter-long firefall behind the main Olympic fire. Cool, but obviously unintended. Definitely dangerous. Thank God for concrete buildings!

It’s now about 7:30 pm. We’ve been at ICO three hours. We’ve heard five or six bands, seen about 12 dance routines. We’ve had laser light shows and confetti drops, as well as the intended and unintended fire shows. Everyone’s itching to get home; enough’s enough. Parents start to stand up, walk over and get their kids to take them home. Father Ian, the head of ICO, grabs the microphone to ask people, in fluent Spanish, to please stay just 15 minutes more. No one listens. There is chaos as parents push through the crowd, weaving amidst the marching band and dancing flag girls with no care as to how long these poor kids have prepared for this night. They get their kids and jam the aisles and the performance arena as they attempt to leave. Thank goodness the auditorium is not on fire, as no one is able to get out quickly. Miraculously no one is injured, no ambulances called. By 8:00, the auditorium is empty, the cacophony had died down. A terrific inaugural, for sure. A delicious slice of the cultural life of Mazatlán.

You’re Not in Kansas Anymore


We picked Danny up from Boy Scout camp on Saturday, June 14, 2008, my friend Basma’s wedding anniversary, to begin our big adventure. Before leaving Leawood we had to stop one last time to say goodbye to our dog, Nacho, who now lives with good friends on their acreage.

The day before we departed had been the 35th anniversary of my first airplane ride. This time we were driving: a Honda Civic hybrid, loaded to the gills with three people, four computers, and loads of other have-to-have-right-away goodies. Needless to say, we wwaaayyyyyy exceeded the weight limit of the vehicle and the car barely cleared the ground.

We drove diagonally through Kansas—truly a beautiful state. We knew we’d miss the prairie, the Flint Hills. We were psyched to be able to drive through Greensburg, the town so devastated by the tornado and now rebuilding itself as a world-leading green city. What an encouraging way to leave the US. We spent our first night in Liberal, Kansas, two blocks from Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz; quite fitting, we felt.

The journey went really quickly and smoothly. Good highways the whole way, we met all terrific people, and it was fun counting the states. We crossed the border in Nogales, where we had our foreign resident cards stamped, and 50km or so later registered our car. Hooray!!! ¡Bienvenidos!

Crossing over the thousands of topes (speed bumps) on the journey through Mexico was not easy given our heavy load, and we had to stop at a mechanic’s once to have something underneath the car tied back up. The only really hairy episode was at one point on the highway in Sonora. Greg was driving, and heading towards us on two wheels, out of control and loaded to three times the height of the cab, comes a pickup truck. Greg froze: heading to the right would take us off the road and into a deep ditch, no doubt flipping us; heading left would take us into the path of the pickup if he was able to right the truck and course-correct; staying where we were seemed to be suicide. Fortunately, the driver was able to get back on all four wheels and onto his own side of the road, and all was well.

We spent our third night, the only night on the road in Mexico, in a “Romance Hotel.” Pulling in it looked great: advertising air conditioning, cable television, room service. It looked clean and new and very private; like a Japanese “love hotel,” you drive straight into a garage with your car, close the door, and no one sees who you are; great for secret trysts. Once we were in the room, we realized the AC didn’t work and the window didn’t open; we were stuck in a steam bath! We ordered dinner delivered, but when they brought it, they couldn’t get the garage door (only door to the outside) to open; the switch had come loose and fallen inside the cement block wall. No worries. We survived, spent one of the most steamy, sweaty nights of our lives, but the next day we made it to our new home and all was well. Seeing that ocean in front of us made everything good!