We went to Miami Beach for four days in late March. We wanted to remember what the sun looked like. In Ann Arbor, the skies were either cloudy and rainy or it was snowing and cold. What would it be like to go outside in just a tee shirt and pants? We were both very tired of putting on sweaters, jackets, gloves, boots and hats every time we left the house.
Landing at Miami International Airport was WONDERFUL! The sun was shining. The skies were blue. The temperature was 76 degrees. We smiled as we put our jackets in our suitcases and called an Uber to take us to the hotel.
The Gates was in Miami Beach, a block from the ocean. We had great views from the room of the pool, the trees and flowers. Once we unpacked, we went out for a walk to see the neighborhood.
The receptionist at the front desk had suggested that we walk down to 17th Street and turn right. We were glad we did. There was block after block of restaurants and stores. The center of the street, which was very wide, was closed to traffic. All the restaurants had put their outdoor tables and chairs there, under large tents.
We picked a Spanish restaurant and ordered seafood paella and sangria. It was a wonderful evening. We enjoyed a slight breeze as the day faded into night.
What do you do when every time you push a button on the control panel, the words on the screen are all in French?
This story began when I was cooking Christmas dinner last December. We were all ready to sit down and eat. The buffet was just missing one dish—the sweet potatoes. I’d left them for last because they just needed a few minutes to cook.
I put the package in the microwave, shut the door and punched in the time. Silence. Mmmmm! I tried again and then one more time. The microwave had quit. I didn’t know if it was tired since I’d been using it all morning or, because it was purchased in 1992, after 25 years it was finished.
After everyone went home, my husband and I talked about getting a new microwave. We needed something that was reliable. In the past year we’d also been having problems with the oven. Sometimes it would cook. Other times it might not be in the mood. It had been installed in 1992 also. Actually, they were a wall combo and you really couldn’t replace one without replacing the other.
The best time to buy appliances like these is after Christmas and during the first week in January. The reason is a number of stores in Ann Arbor have sales at this time.
We quickly found out that a microwave-oven combination that has to be installed in the wall is much more expensive than just buying a microwave and an oven separately. And, you can only replace a wall combo with a wall combo. Otherwise the kitchen will look pretty strange.
So, we bit the bullet and went shopping. We quickly found exactly what we wanted with the features we required at three different stores. The only difference was the price.
We needed white so it would fit in with the rest of our appliances. Well, white is no longer the “in” color. So not only did we have to pay more, we had to wait. So, it wasn’t until the end of February that the microwave-oven combo arrived at the store.
On Thursday, February 22, the installer came out and installed the new combo and took away the old one. Everything went smoothly. After he left, I got out the instructions with the intension of learning how to use the different features on both ovens.
This is where the fun began. No matter what I punched in, the words that appeared on the screen were all in French. The first few times I used the iTranslate app to try to figure out what the screen was telling me to do. Then I realized that this was taking too much time. How was I going to cook a meal or reheat something?
I decided the best thing was to call Kitchen Aid, register the combo, and ask how to get the screen to speak English.
I called the number on the registration card and waited and waited and… You get the idea. After about 20 minutes a woman came on the line. She told me this was the number to register a product in French Canada. French Canada? I was in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She gave me the number to call for the United States.
I called and after another twenty minutes, a different lady came on the line. After registering the product, I asked her how to get the oven and microwave to speak English. “Oh,” she said. “That’s easy. Just press Tools and choose option 9.”
I did and put my iTranslate app away for another time.
I was intrigued by the title–Beyond The Wall: The Human Toll of Border Crossings. This lecture was sponsored by Wallace House and given at the Ford School of Public Policy at the University of Michigan on Wednesday, January 31, 2018.
There were three speakers: Brooke Jarvis, Jason De Leon and Ann Lin.
I was especially intrigued by Brooke Jarvis, a journalist and 2017 winner of the Livingston Award for her story “Unclaimed “. It was featured in The California Sunday Magazine in 2017.
About 18 years ago, a man was found in the desert of the southwest United States. There had been some kind of accident and he was taken unconscious to the hospital. He was in very bad shape.
The man had no identification, and because he was unconscious, no one could ask him who he was. This man was kept alive for years on respirators. But, who was he? What was his name? Where did he come from? Did he have family waiting for him?
Eventually, after 18 years, a Border Patrol Agent came to see him. He was determined to find out who this man was. He ordered the man’s information put in several government databases. Within two days the man was identified and his sister located.
For families of people who try to come to the United States illegally, a source of great trauma is, if they don’t make it, how does the family find out what happened? For years these families suffer–wondering, worried and traumatized.
Our current border walls and surveillance systems in the southwest United States are quite secure. The only way left to try to cross illegally is through the desert. Many people, if not most, die because of the terrain, lack of water and the terrible heat.
Currently there are about 800 bodies in morgues in the southwest United States waiting to be identified. There are also online websites for families seeking information about their loved ones who never arrived.
Wouldn’t it be humane, once someone has died trying to cross, to let their families know? Technology has advanced so much that this could be done by the repatriation of bodies or DNA evidence.
I love Mexico for a lot of reasons—its people, the music, the food and its beautiful silver jewelry. This November my husband and I took a seven day Princess Cruise from Los Angeles down to Mexico. There were two days at sea and then we turned around stopping in Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlán, Cabo San Lucas, another day at sea and back to L.A.
It was a lot of fun and one of the best things was my $624 silver necklace from Mazatlán. After the ship docked there, we had breakfast and took a tour to see the place. The first stop was a jewelry store. The guide told us on the way that we could buy whatever we wanted with confidence that it was the real thing because all their silver jewelry was 95% pure. Princess Cruises had vetted the store because they didn’t want any passengers coming back to the ship and complaining that they’d been cheated.
So while I felt confident we wouldn’t be cheated, I also realized we probably wouldn’t be buying anything. Why? Because, in a situation like this, the jewelry is real and very beautiful, frequently gorgeous, but also very, very expensive.
The guide then passed out round yellow stickers with “Juan Carlos” written on them in black letters. He said all the sales people spoke English and if we showed the stickers, they would lower the price by 30%.
When Michael and I heard that, our faces lit up. That meant we could bargain. We always had a good time bargaining in Mexico even if, in the end, we couldn’t get the price down enough to actually buy anything.
The way we do it is, I wander around until I find something I’m interested in. Then Michael plays the straight man and I negotiate.
“Michael, why don’t we just go in and look around but not plan to buy anything?” I said.
“Well, I would like to get you something.” He responded.
“If Princess Cruises stands behind their jewelry, it’s probably going to be really beautiful and very expensive. How about we agree now on how much to spend? If we get our price, fine. But if not, let’s just walk away?”
“O.k.”
We walked into the store and to the very back where they were serving complimentary Margaritas at 10:00 in the morning. The Margaritas were good, probably the best ones we had on the whole trip!
We both started walking around the store, drinks in hand. The walls were floor to ceiling mirrors with clear glass shelves and waist high glass counters running along the sides and down the center. Every inch of glass was covered with silver: silver necklaces, earrings, watches, pendants, etc. I don’t think I’ve seen so much silver in one place since the last time I came to Mexico. And it was beautiful, artistic, gorgeous! I felt swept away as I knew I would.
I immediately found a necklace I did want so I tried it on as well as two or three others so that I didn’t appear too interested in the first one. Within a few seconds, a sales woman approached. I sensed that I wouldn’t do too well negotiating with her so I told her the jewelry was lovely but I was just looking.
I went looking for Michael and told him I had found something but was pretty sure it was going to be too expensive. None of the jewelry had prices which was a big sign that you could bargain and it was expensive.
I tried on several necklaces but told him it was the first one that I really wanted. A salesman approached. He seemed friendly and wanted to talk.
“Your jewelry is lovely,” I said.
“Yes,” he responded. “It’s 95% pure. You don’t have to polish it.”
“Really? Even if you put it in a drawer,” I said.
“No, never. Which one are you interested in?” he asked.
I showed him and asked how much it was. He looked at it, raised it to the light, looked at it again, “624”.
Now the exchange rate is 18 pesos to $1.00 U.S. That would make it around $35.00 dollars U.S., very affordable.
“Oh, 624 pesos?” I said.
“No, no! U.S. dollars. $624.”
“Oh. By the way, Juan Carlos, the Tour Guide, said to show you this.” I opened my hand so he could see the yellow sticker in my palm. “He said that would bring the price down by 30%.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Juan Carlos approaching us. He quietly joined our group.
“Yes! Yes.” He took his calculator out. “436.80.”
“Pesos?” I smiled.
“No! no. U.S. dollars.”
“Demasiado! Demasiado (too much).” I responded and tried to look sad. “Can you give us a better price?”
“I am giving you a better price. I just took 30% off the top.”
“I know. And the necklace is very beautiful. But it’s too expensive. Demasiado. Thank you,” and we started wandering around the store followed by the salesman and Juan Carlos.
“How much do you want to pay?” the salesman asked.
“Hmmmm,” I said, trying to gain time to think of what to say. Michael and I looked at each other. “Well, mmmmmm, what if we paid you 100 U.S. dollars cash, no credit card?”
“Hmmmmm,” he said. “100 U.S. dollars from you.” He pointed to Michael. “And, 100 U.S. dollars from you.” He pointed to me.
“No, no. Too much! Demasiado! 100 U.S. dollars solamente (only).” I said.
He paused to take a breath.
Juan Carlos spoke up, “Tomorrow we go to Cabo San Lucas. The jewelry there will be much more expensive. He’s really giving you a good price.”
The salesman smiled.
“Yes, you’re right, “I responded. “The jewelry is more expensive in Cabo. But, I have beautiful jewelry at home. I don’t need any more. We just stopped in here to look and the necklace caught my eye. But I don’t really need it. Actually, if we don’t buy this, we won’t be buying any jewelry on this trip.”
Juan Carlos said nothing but I noticed a few seconds later that he had wandered off.
That’s when the straight man came in. Michael said, “You know if you sell the necklace for 100 U.S. dollars, it’s sold. And, you have the money. But, if you don’t sell it, it stays on the counter, just sitting there, and who knows how long before you find another buyer?”
“Wait here.” The salesman said. He walked over to another counter, stopped and appeared deep in thought. He punched some numbers into his calculator. He paused. Finally he returned.
I’ve always liked Cuban, Mexican and Latin American music. There’s something about the beat and melody that I connect to.
One night, years ago, in Grant Park in Chicago, I heard Celia Cruz sing. It was Labor Day Weekend and the Latin Music Festival went from Sunday, September 5, through Labor Day on Monday, September 6, 1993.
Celia sang on Monday night with the very popular Afro-Cuban band, La Sonora Mantancera. The night was hot and there was a warm breeze coming in from Lake Michigan.
Celia was 68 by that time and her looks had started to fade. But once she began to sing, time stood still. It was magical for me to hear her voice floating out over the crowd.
A few months ago I started watching the telenovela “Celia” on Netflix. It was produced in 2015 by Fox Telecolumbia for RNC Television and Telemundo. The actors spoke in Spanish. There were English subtitles so it was easy to follow.
My main reason for watching the series was to hear Celia sing. I was thrilled at all the times the director dubbed in recordings of the real Celia’s voice when the actress who played Celia began to sing. It was wonderful. And, even better, in almost every episode “Celia” sang my favorite pieces: “Como Fue”, “La Negra Tiene Tumbao”, “Guantanamera” and many more of her greatest hits.
There was a downside to this series. “Celia” is a telenovela after all. In some episodes, there were tears and more tears. Sometimes there were hysterics. And there was Celia’s sister, Noris. She was so evil… I don’t think she had a kind bone in her body. Neither did Simon, her father, who appeared to be as flawed a character as you could find. And, to make things more crazy, there was Lola and all her problems as well as Mario and Raquel.
To top it off, when I went on Wikipedia to check things out, I found that many of these characters didn’t exist in real life. Or, if they did, were actually very nice people. But that didn’t stop the writers from writing Celia’s story their way.
So, if you like Afro-Cuban music and a tear-jerker of a story, “Celia” is the series for you–all 80 episodes!!!
