I like Mexico.
     I live in downtown Querétaro, a city in the center of Mexico, two hours (by bus) northwest of Mexico City. It is a very old, very beautiful colonial city. The people are more friendly and more affectionate (it's normal for teenagers to hold hands with their parents), the crime-rate is much lower, and it is much cleaner than in the United States. I hardly ever see cops walking around, but I always feel safe. I do see, 24 hours a day, people picking up litter, scrubbing sidewalks, washing windows.
     Querétaro has maybe fifteen churches over 200 years old. A few are over 300 years old. There's a gigantic aqueduct (see photo above), 200 years old, which used to provide water to the city. Still in working condition, but its source spring stopped flowing. There are very few parking lots but plenty of public buses and inexpensive taxis (though, as in the United States, many people try to drive in the city, a slow, noisy, polluting process, aggravated by the prevalence of leaded gasoline).
     Querétaro is a historical place somewhat akin to Philadelphia in the United States. New Spain's independence movement began here in 1810. And after a dispute over Texas (the Texans were upset about Mexico abolishing slavery), Querétaro became the Mexican capital during the Mexican-American War. In 1847, this war ended with a peace treaty signed in Querétaro. This treaty sold Texas, New Mexico, California, Utah, Nevada, and part of Colorado for US $15 million. With the United States Army occupying Mexico City, it was an offer they couldn't refuse (before this defeat, Europe expected Mexico to dominate the New World).
     In 1867 the Republic was restored when French-imposed "Emperor" Maximilian von Hapsburg was executed. This happened at Cerro de las Campanas (Hill of the Bells), six blocks from my house.
     And at the Theater of the Republic, three blocks from my house, the Mexican Constitution was drafted and signed after the Revolution in 1917. This progressive document "guaranteed" free secular education; a minimum wage and 48-hour work week; equal rights for all men and women (before the United States did); and the return of land to indigenous tribes. Unfortunately, it has yet to be completely enforced (that's where the Zapatistas come in).

     Maybe your impression of Mexico is a stereotype based on movies, or horror stories from a friend of a friend. If so, you would not recognize Querétaro as being Mexican at all. It is a regular city, over a million people, with all the "modern" conveniences any Americano might want: 24-hour pharmacies, upscale restaurants (including plenty of Japanese and French places) and hotels, American fast-food (McDonalds, KFC, Pizza Hut, Domino's, whatever), Wal-Mart and Sam's Club (and plenty of Mexican variations), huge hardware stores, great street markets, festivals once a month, NYC-style dance clubs, even a Miami-style salsa club. Because this is not a tourist city, all of these places are filled with middle class Mexicans (yes, there is such a thing).
     You know those desperate Mexicans you've seen on "Cops" scrambling across the border barefoot? They aren't from Querétaro. The economy is good, the city is gorgeous; these people ain't going nowhere (with the Mexican economy growing at 6% a year, illegal immigration is currently at its lowest in decades, anyway).
     The buildings are almost all beautiful (sole exceptions being a few shopping centers, see photo above). New buildings look colonial to match, and use the same quarried stone. There are many large parks and plazas. They put most United States cities to shame. The streets and plazas are always filled with smiling families out for a walk or talking to friends.
     And, finally, the weather is close to perfect, south enough that winter is warm, and at a high enough altitude that summer is bearable (less humid than the Midwest or the Southeast United States). Similar to Mexico City, but Mexico City is 20 times more crowded and 20 times dirtier (in the air, ground, and water).
    

     I live and work at El Puente de Esperanza, which is called an orphanage, but is mostly a home for distressed families. I live and work with the residents. In exchange for 40 hours of volunteer work per week, I get lots of Spanish practice, a room and bath, three meals a day, and an additional $8 dollars per week grocery allowance.
     The vast majority of the people who live at El Puente are not from the city of Querétaro. They are members of the Otomí tribe (they call themselves Hñä hñü, but I can't pronounce it), a people who were subjects of the Toltec empire, Aztec empire, Spanish empire, Mexican empire, and now the Mexican Republic. Nonetheless, they've retained much of their culture and all of their language.
     But they have not retained their economy. They were pushed high into the mountains by Europeans, where they only have small plots of decimated land and the weather is unpredictable (a hailstorm last August wiped out the corn crop).

     San Ildefonso is a tiny, remote Otomí village between Querétaro and Mexico City. It is surrounded by beautiful mountains and horrible problems.
     The family structure has almost completely broken down. Unemployment is probably at least 33% (compared to more like 6% in Querétaro). While some families do have a resident father, many men are drunk on mezcal or aguardiente by noon. Girls are pregnant before they turn 17 (usually from rape) and have four kids before they're 25.
     Most people have no plumbing, but sometimes there is electricity. To cook they must walk several miles into the mountains, cut firewood, and carry it on their backs (a few people have mules). Many Otomí kids always skip school (there is a school, but nobody to make them go). It is difficult to buy groceries (limited selection, only one store far away), but very convenient to buy alcohol (a liquor store every quarter mile).
     Not a pretty picture. When I visit San Ildefonso, I generally become depressed.
    

     But we have to concentrate on the people who can be helped. Estéban, from Dallas, Texas, currently lives in a shack there, teaching kids to read and write (in Spanish) and making sure they do their homework. I am currently growing a vegetable garden there. We will either avoid hail or put up a tarp to protect it. To the clay soil, I've added cow manure. I am adding tobacco to aerate and protect from insects.
     I am also building solar-heated ovens, which I will teach Otomí families how to use (saving maybe 14 hours of firewood gathering per week).
     At El Puente, the young mothers learn how to care for their children, how to read and write, and how to handle money. There is a vocational sewing program, so the young mothers can learn skills to earn a living. After graduating from the five year program, they continue to make pillows, quilts, bags, etc. that El Puente sells in our store. They also will have the skills to work at one of the many sewing factories (known in the Unites States as sweatshops), whereby they can support their families. They will probably not prosper, but they will be able to support themselves without begging (which is what most did before coming to El Puente). And most importantly, their kids will stand a chance.
     Because of difficulties the mothers have re-adapting to the village, El Puente has begun a program to assist them after graduation. Currently our board of directors is considering positions for a part-time nurse and a part-time sewing instructor. El Puente is also petitioning for a land grant from the state, so we can build a staffed after-school center. So if a father is drunk and the kids are scared, they will have somewhere to go.
     After their children are old enough, there is the Posada program, which helps kids from 14 to 22 get an education. The kids live at El Puente, attend classes, and receive tutoring. El Puente pays for everything. The kids just have to keep their grades up and handle household chores (which are a bit time consuming when the "house" has 55 people in it). Those with parents visit home one weekend a month.
     Priority is given to Otomí girls in San Indefonso, because if left there, they will likely become pregnant by rape (abortion is illegal and, almost without exception, immoral).

     El Puente is largely paid for by Whitestone Logging, a Hoonah, Alaska lumber company owned by Conchita and Keith Walker. Conchita is the founder and director of El Puente. She currently spends most of her time in Alaska handling the company. Conchita grew up in El Salvador (I think), I don't know what her maiden name is. She met her husband in the Peace Corps, then spent much of her life volunteering in orphanages around the world (United States, Mexico, Romania, etc.). Whitestone Logging donates $7,000 to $10,000 US dollars a month to operate El Puente.
     Food and product donations are received from many generous companies in Querétaro, and cash donations come from many generous poeple in the United States. Most donors either live in Alaska or are former volunteers.
     Right now, including me, there are only three full-time volunteers here (which is not enough), though a few more will arrive in June. Several residents of Querétaro volunteer for a few hours a week, tutoring teenagers or taking care of the little kids. There is a small, dedicated staff of Mexican employees, including educators and a sociologist, who work full-time with the teenagers and the mothers.
    

     I spend my time on maintenance, construction projects, taking care of the little kids each afternoon, and tutoring (little kids in Spanish, teenagers in English). In the evenings I spend two hours at a nearby school teaching English. Fridays I spend in San Ildefonso, working on the garden.
     I sometimes go to a disco on weekends with the college kids, and sometimes I go on a trip. I think that while I am here I will be able to visit most of the best places in Mexico. I've already been to Mexico City, San Ildefonso, San Miguel de Allende, Morelia, the Angangueo Butterfly Sanctuary, Tuxpan, and of course, Querétaro. I definitely plan to visit Oaxaca, Chiapas, Veracruz, the Lancandón Rainforest, the Yucatán Peninsula, El Tajín ruins, Puerto Vallarta, Tabasco, Cuernavaca, Bernal, Patzcuaro, the Teotihuacán pyramids, the Chichén Itzá ruins, Cholula, Monterrey (home of Plastilina Mosh), the Tula ruins, the Monte Albán ruins, Guadalajara, Guanajuanto City and Cozumel Island.

     I haven't found any part of Mexico that isn't interesting, though. I could probably randomly pick some area and enjoy a weekend there. For instance, in Durango there are mountains called "Sierra Espinozo del Diablo" (Spiny Peaks of Satan). In Veracruz there's a village called "Soledad de Doblado" (Loneliness Multiplied by Two), just east of "Citlaltepetl" (that's not Spanish, you'll have to ask someone who speaks Nahuatl for a translation). I don't know anything about these places, but for me, there is a fascination in the mystery they conjure.
     Sure, there are places in the United States with good names. "Truth or Consequences, AZ" is hilarious, but do you really want to see what stores their strip malls have? "Chattanooga, TN" sounds interesting, but "Chalchiuitles, Zacatecas" simply cannot be ignored. "Brownsville, TX" is a good name, but "Matamoros, Tamaulipas" definitely sounds more enticing (both sides of the river were Matamoros before Zachary Taylor invaded).
     And honestly, do you really care what Plymouth Rock looks like? But the pyramids at Teotihuacán - that's what I'm talkin 'bout.