TDY Monterrey

TDY = Temporary DutY

About six weeks ago, the management at our Consulate asked if any officers would be interested in helping out other Consulates or the Embassy in Mission Mexico with by doing TDY assignments. They couldn't yet tell us when, where, or for how long, we just had to be willing to go where told. During the summer months, officer turnover is high as people transfer in and out, and this leaves big staffing shortages.  I volunteered immediately, and a few weeks later was told that I'd be going with three coworkers to US Consulate General Monterrey for one month to work in their non-immigrant visa section. I'd heard of Monterrey before, from friends at FSI and from a few other coworkers here who'd gone there on TDY before. It's one of the busiest visa sections in the country, particularly for the H2 visa program. The H2A and H2B visas are for temporary agricultural (A) and non-agricultural (B) workers and these are the guys (almost completely a male work crew) who pick berries in Georgia, work on golf courses in Colorado, in vineyards in California or in forestry in North Carolina. They work for a short time, depending on the jobs they do, and return home to their families throughout the Mexican countryside after earning a good wage legally. Consulate General Monterrey processes the same amount of this class of visa in ONE WEEK that Ciudad Juarez processes in an entire year. They have a well-oiled machine to handle this volume, but when the H2 visa season coincides with staff transfer season, as it is now, they need extra manpower to get through the numbers. 

My three coworkers and I were sent to Monterrey, three hours' drive south of the Texas border in the Mexican state of Nuevo Leon, to help out with the other visa classes - the tourists, the students, and the professional work visas. We arrived on a Sunday afternoon and were instantly amazed at the Alpine-like setting. How had I not heard more about this city before?! Monterrey is known as the "Beverly Hills of Mexico" due to the amount wealth that has accumulated in homes and businesses inside the city and its various suburbs. Like Ciudad Juarez, it has been greatly affected by the narco-related violence in recent years, and the assignment is currently a no-school-aged-kids post. Therefore the crew of 20+ entry level officers are primarily young, single and on their first tour. Unfortunately, the city is like an island for the Consulate staff, as the recent violence prevents them from driving in any direction out of the city. However, the situation seems to be stabilizing and we're all hopeful that these restrictions can be lifted in the near future.

Housed in a cramped and outdated old Consulate building in downtown Monterrey, this team does an amazing job of handling the volume of work that crosses their threshold each day. As a Consular Officer, working in Monterrey in NIV will teach anyone excellent skills, just as working as an Immigrant Visa Officer will do the same for an officer in Ciudad Juarez. I thought of it as a "finishing school" of sorts to sharpen my skills by exposing me to a new range of applicants. Monterrey did not disappoint in that respect. From private drivers and household staff applying to accompany their bosses on US vacations, to students attending private boarding schools, to high-level executives from multinational corporations being transferred to the firms' US branches - the applicant pool was far more diverse than that in Juarez. Naturally, there was also the familiar mixture of university students wanting to go shopping in Texas with their friends, factory workers, homemakers, and grandparents from el campo hoping to visit their adult children in Denver, Los Angeles or Chicago and willing to spend days on a bus to get there. Hands-down, my favorite applicant showed up with his granddaughter assisting him. He appeared at my interview window under his own power, with a full set of natural teeth, straight gray hair down to his ears visible under his cowboy hat and dressed nattily in an embroidered cowboy shirt. He was 103. I told him it would be an honor to authorize a visa for him to visit his son in Texas. (My coworker then leaned over and asked me if I gave him the ten-year visa... which of course I did.)

On the weekends, Monterrey offered a great range of attractions, from the man-made river Paseo Santa Lucia which floats visitors from downtown Monterrey out to Parque Fundidora. The park was, up until the 1980s, a massive steel foundry that was cleaned up and "remodeled" into an expansive green zone dotted with remnants of its industrial past. In the center is "Horno 3" (Oven 3) which has the interactive Museum of Steel inside the former smelter and opportunities to climb around on various levels of the rusty steel machinery, including a zip-line and a smart restaurant to escape the heat and enjoy a cold mineral water, chicken salad and serious dose of air conditioning with a view. Ahhh....

Surrounding Monterrey are the northern reaches of the Sierra Madre, and located in part of this range is Parque Ecologico Chipinque. Just a short cab ride from our hotel, my coworkers and I explored a mere fraction of what the park offers. Organized like a ski resort, the park is criss-crossed with hiking trails, defined by difficulty in a color-coded system of black, blue and green. There is also a road that reaches a high peak called La Maseta where hikers, or those who drove up, will find playgrounds, snack shops, shade and a rustic inn with a swimming pool and an amazing view. I imagine that one could live in Monterrey for a full year and take a different hiking trail every weekend.

Prior to entering the Foreign Service, I had never even heard of Monterrey, Mexico, and how embarrassing that is to admit as it's a city of approximately 4 million residents (suburbs included). With the variety of natural diversions, mild climate (69-98 degrees year-round), strong economy offering all the shopping anyone could want, and easy proximity to both the US and Mexico City (3 hours driving to TX and a short flight to Mexico City), plus a new Consulate on the way in 2014 - I couldn't recommend Monterrey more! 

Cerro de la Silla (Saddle Mountain) seen from Parque Fundidora

Navigating down Paseo Santa Lucia

Dolomites? Alps? Rocky Mountains?  - Nope, it's Nuevo Leon, Mexico!

The "M" above Parque Ecologico Chipinque as seen from our hotel breakfast table.

Parque Fundidora view from Horno 3 looking west towards downtown.

Que Padre!

Que padre! = How cool!

The city of Monterrey, Mexico celebrated Father's Day with a free festival in the downtown center. I'm here on loan (temporary duty) from Juarez (more on that another time) and spent a nice mid-day observing how Mexico spends this muy macho, muy padre day. It starts like any Sunday in Latin America... with the cathedral. Very pretty, but naturally that's not where the action is. It's across the street in the plaza. Come take a look:

Unlike the Mother's Day celebration in my Juarez neighborhood, this celebration was distinctly masculine.

Meet the height requirement? You can join the Fuerza Civil and get kitted out with all this gear like this guy. Or this one:

Stroll a bit further into the heart of things and you'll find the feats of strength, like the use-the-sledgehammer-and-ring-the-bell machine, or el toro bronco, also known as easy methods of public humiliation. But not for this guy:

Once you've worked up a good appetite, it's time for some carne asada provided free and prepared on one of the dozens of grills all fired up at once:

Plate in hand, it's time to enjoy the entertainment. Why it's thumping music and dancing scantily-clad girls, of course!

Finally, what dudely event is complete without some vehicular muscle?

The crowd of men (example above) was truly enjoying themselves, but this IS Father's Day after all, so let's not forget the point of the day. It's to celebrate fatherhood, which is impossible without the kids, and there were plenty on hand who certainly weren't left out of the fun:

(Playing IN the fountain? What?! We weren't allowed to do that. Man, I grew up in the wrong country.)

And within the celebration was also blooming the possibility of future fathers:

Que Padre!

The EFM Work Situation: Post Two

The following are two different views on what it's like to be an Eligible Family Member (EFM) with experience in two posts and one extended FSI training stint. I've edited my husband's words only a teenie bit, but I wanted to present them semi-raw so you all could hear his voice, instead of translated through my thoughts. For more views on the subject, look to the list on the lower right for other EFM blogs. 

She says:
One of the most challenging parts of a life in the Foreign Service is considering what the lives of your children/spouse/partner/pets will be like. My husband and I came into this new chapter of our lives each 100% on board with the idea of living abroad and moving every two to three years. It has been something we've always wanted, so there was no convincing or pleading with him i.e. "Guess what honey, I just joined the Foreign Service and that means that you'll be moving to..."  

However, even given this nicely-set stage, the road has been far more difficult for him, and therefore us, than expected. It started with a five-month separation as I trained to be an OMS in Washington before Post #1. His eventual arrival was followed by six months of frustrating unemployment as he applied for every job he qualified for at the Embassy, to no avail. (If you'd like, you can read about this time in my first posting on the subject here, and the second posting here.) As an experienced high school teacher, he was able to tutor American children from the Embassy community after school, which was good work, but certainly not full time. Finally, with a one-month intensive training program under his belt, he found work teaching English to executives in Bogota. He had steady work, although again not full time, a sense of an independent life with new friends outside of our Embassy community, and he got to know more about Colombian life from his students. Well paying? Not really, but that wasn't the point. Unfortunately, he was just settling into his routine when we got the call to return to FSI for my A-100 course. 

During the six months I was at FSI, he was able to take the basic Consular course ("ConGen") for six weeks, plus a Mexican border area studies course for one week and a smattering of day-long family-member classes. He decided not to pursue the offer of a long-time substitute teacher position at the local school district in exchange for the potential long-term benefits of having the ConGen credential, which is good for five years. 

We've now been in Juarez for four months, and I'm very happy to report that he has found work at the Consulate after three months of frustrating and seemingly senseless bureaucracy. Three months may sound like a short time to wait for a good, full-time job, but please don't forget that he hadn't been working since we left Bogota last July. So really the waiting was ten months and was further compounded by the still-fresh memory of what the seven months of applying, interviewing, waiting, waiting some more, and finally being disappointed felt like. Yes, his gamble of turning down the paying work in Virginia paid off in that he is capitalizing on the ConGen investment now, but that was truly a gamble. His job within the Consular section is interesting, he's learning things he never knew before and will soon be cashing a regular paycheck. Our sections are far enough apart that we don't bump into each other at work all day, and he's learning things I don't know about, which can make for more interesting dinner conversation. 

In looking ahead to Post #3, which I'm always doing even though we're only 12.5% of the way through this current tour, he's already saying that he doesn't know if he can stomach another six plus months at FSI without work. Learning a new language will take at least that long, so either we stick with English or Spanish-speaking posts, therefore really limiting our horizons, or I risk the negative effects of a severely bored and under-utilized spouse pacing an Oakwood apartment for months on end (something the cats are voting for - they like the company). And what if our next post requires learning a one-country language, like Greek, or Azeri, or Finnish? With few sections offered for these "boutique" languages, spouses often have a hard time getting a space-available-basis seat in class and therefore have to head to post with zero or little language ability to their new country. Or, if he were to be offered language training, he'd have weigh being employed temporarily in Virginia (if possible) with the benefits of being able to speak whichever language. 

In any compromise such as this, there are going to be things that turn out less-than-ideal, and people who have to sacrifice. Having a family means making sure that the sacrifice isn't always on their side. My day dreams of serving one post in each of our bureaus and living in wintry lands, deserty lands, tropical islands, bustling metropolises and places that nobody has heard of - all in my Consular cone - will probably not come to fruition. That's just part of the package of having a family in the Foreign Service. 

One of my coworkers, whose wife lives in the US and continues her career while he serves in Mexico, told me that once he gets his next bid list, he plans to cross off all the posts where the timing won't work for his transfer schedule and then send the list to her to pick her favorites. I think he's onto something in making that plan, and offering the proverbial "trailing spouse" some of control over this life is a wise choice. 

We're hoping that the warnings of our more-experienced FS friends are true: that the first posts are the hardest for spouses as they try to gain work experience and training that will grease the wheels for further jobs. We look forward to having two paychecks again, and for him to feel more of an equal part of this equation. 

My recommendation to anyone still on the outside and considering coming in is to please consider all these things before thinking about dragging a perfectly nice spouse/partner/family off into this life, as it really only gets more, not less, complicated. Complicated does not necessarily mean "worse," just not as straightforward and simple as perhaps your life now/previous life. I'm confident that in the end, when the day-to-day frustrations and gripes have faded, like the memories of how much you love eating hot dogs and then riding the county fair roller coaster, we'll say it was all worth it. Then we'll drag out another photo album and bore you with more stories of places and faces all over the world...

He says:

I would add that while you (the FSO) arrive at a new post and start working on day one, it seems typical that a spouse, even if there is a job opening just fortuitously waiting for them, still has to spend the weeks or months applying, interviewing, and waiting for the local HR to give them the go-ahead.  

I would also say that the lucky spouses have something truly independent and/or telework related. We have friends whose spouses are continuing their work editing magazines, translating documents, and selling high-end bicycle parts. And I often reflect even now on how I would probably be enjoying the roving-around lifestyle more if I felt more connected to the local culture, e.g. working on the local economy, which is actively, if not passively, discouraged and discouraging.  And how (even though you don't tolerate me saying) that as an EFM you are never really "in the club" among the consulate/embassy FSOs and the whole FS culture.  Hence the popularity of our lunchtime "bored meetings" with the other unemployed EF-Men while you all were at work. The Family Liaison Office and Community Liaison Office (CLO) and everyone tries to help as they can and be hail-fellow-well-met, but when the rubber meets the road, EFMs are looked over.  I think that's a holdover from the Julia Child days of planning cocktail parties for the husbands and important guests.

I think it's good for EFMs to have a long list of "well, I could...."

I could teach English: few jobs at low pay

OK, I could volunteer at local charities and missions: but not in the city's danger zones - you know, where most the charities are.

OK, I could take the separate maintenance allowance and live and work in El Paso: why even be in the FS?

OK, I can just keep house and explore: and go broke and clinically depressed

OK, I can just focus on raising the kids....oh wait, ours are already in college.

I'm happy to have the job because I need the money and mental distraction, but I can't say I'm overjoyed at getting secretary-butt doing 40 hours a week of data-entry. It bugs me to think I am losing what little Spanish I had, and looking at the prospect of learning about my surroundings only through happy hours and CLO events.  Waah-waah--I guess what I'm saying is that it really takes an effort, not just for EFMs but for all, to work at reaching out and making some memories outside the consulate and knowing people besides the other Americans.

Bottom line is that it's easier with lowered expectations, putting pride and careers aside, and just doing whatever, wherever.  Another bottom line is that it seems that 8 out of 10 EFMs have hard-luck stories, but that they are all very different hard luck stories.  It's different for everyone depending on their background, their expectations, their character, and then how lucky they get.

What kind of hors d'oeuvres would you like for your friends tonight, honey?

Got Quejas?

Quejas = Complaints

There's something I find very funny about Ciudad Juarez. All the local buses have painted on their rear doors: Quejas? And a phone number. It's something like, "How's my driving?"  But I prefer the Mexican version because it acknowledges the obvious motive for someone to jot down the number in traffic, and doesn't try to fool the reader/fellow driver into believing that some people might be calling to say, "That driver was being so cautious; he didn't cut me off once!" It just says, if ya' don't like what you see - here you go - call the number; we're ready.

But I have a different take on it. I think this number should be used to complain about, oh, just about anything one feels like. They should staff the phone line with sympathetic operators who will just listen, agree, and say meaningless things like, "I know, I know! But what can ya' do about it?" or, "Mmm hmm, no kidding, I agree!" 

If you'll allow me, I'd like to get on that line for a bit, because I think I could come up with a few local quejas myself. So, Mr. 616-45-19, here's what I'd say:

• Ay this desert climate! Days after arriving into the high Chihuahuan desert my fingertips began to wrinkle and haven't unfolded since. Have you ever gotten Super-Glue on your fingertips by accident and for a while you can't feel anything right? Yeah, that's what it's like all the time for me. And yes, I use lotion. I use Norwegian Sailor hand cream. I use Working Hands stuff that only diesel mechanics need. I slather my hands in bag balm every night before turning off the light. (Naw, cat hair doesn't stick to bag balm...). NOTHING HELPS. My hands re-plump slightly overnight, but as soon as they feel this dang desert dryness and hard water in the morning, it's Prune City all over again.
• Which brings me to the hard water. Water should not leave stains on surfaces, it's water after all, right? It's supposed to CLEAN things, not mark them. White high-tide lines mark all our sinks, shower doors, stainless steel stove top and tub tiles. And have you seen my flat, dull, dried-out hair? My god! And it makes some salty tea! Geez.
• Can I talk about the roads now? I mean the actual surface of the roads, not the drivers or city layout. The combination of constant sun and high temps, lack of rain, dust, motor oil and tire rubber has burnished the Juarez streets to a high sheen akin to glazing a ceramic tile. Because of this shiny smooth surface, the car tires squeal at every move. Going from 20 to 6 mph to carefully turn into your driveway? SQUEEEAAALLLL!  Making a U-turn at 12 mph? That'll sound like a bank robber getaway car, for sure. And it's not only the sound, it's also the glare that comes up off the streets, obliterating any lane lines. For some reason, the El Paso streets don't squeak and shine like this. There must be some secret ingredient in the paving materials here that cause even the softest of new tennis shoes to squeak-squeak-squeak as one walks down the road. 
• Spiders and roaches and scorpions - Oh My!  So far, we haven't seen a scorpion in the house or yard yet (sound of hearty knocking on wooden dinner table in background), but pretty much all of our coworkers have. One, in fact, took a picture of the nastiest, scariest looking thing.  This isn't his actual picture, but it looked just like this. Yeah, it was dark black and looked like it could surely could drop a cow with a single sting. Actually, my coworker later learned that this was the harmless type that ate other bad bugs in the yard, but my goodness, would you have waited around to find out if it were friend or foe? Not me. 

• Did I mention we also have black widow spiders and big ole' roaches here? I've only seen the latter so far, a half-dozen of the buggers have wandered into our kitchen from outside, but we've been warned about the former. I refer to our garden shed as the Benevolent Home for Spiders and Scorpions and don't open the shed without first banging on the door and loudly announcing my presence. It's only a matter of time...

• The wind! Dust storms wind winds of 50 mph regularly blow through the region during the springtime. After the events in Oklahoma and Texas one could hardly call this a true queja, right? But I'm going to anyway. The fine dust and sand is picked up in a hot wind and blasted against man, beast, home and car radiator. What's the best way to remove paint from a house? A sandblaster, of course! So that's what is happening to our door frames and window trims on a continual basis. But what about applying that sandblasting effect to softer things, like skin and eyes? Mmm hmm, you got it. The first two months here found me in the ophthalmologist's office more than once for various eye problems due to this dusty, furnace-like wind. 

Okay, it's time to get off the Quejas bus and back to reality. Thank you for listening; I feel much better.

Family Time

I've mentioned before that I've done very "American" things here in Juarez that I never did while living in the US (going to Wal-Mart, for example). To that list, I can add that the neighborhood where we live now is far closer to the suburban American stereotype (even from the 50s!) than any place I've lived before. The streets are wide, rollerblading-smooth and in the evenings, lit by attractive wrought-iron lampposts. There are three small parks, the largest of which happens to be in front of our house. Last weekend, this park was the site for the annual Kid's and Mother's Day neighborhood fiesta. We'd seen the signs posted for the 70s and 80s-themed dance that was going to happen at 8pm, but we didn't notice that the whole shindig was to start at noon.

The inflatable bouncy castle and wading pool being set up tipped us off. From then came the face-painting station, the frozen-fruit treat vendor and the nice teenager with his horse giving rides around the block to the kids. By afternoon, I couldn't resist and was out meeting neighbors and enjoying the scene. One of my co-workers was there with her family and as she introduced me to every single family within view, it became clear just how close this community is. Soon the tug-of-war games began: fathers vs sons (the fathers won), mothers vs daughters, boys vs. girls (the girls won) etc... At one point, when the young men were losing to their larger, stronger fathers, the teenage boy on his horse grabbed the end of the rope, wrapped it around his saddle horn and tried to bring it home with the strength of his horse, but it just made his saddle slip to the side and the dads won anyway. During each bout, the families cheered and yelled from the sidelines and I laughed like a 10 year old. After enough hands were blistered and people were dragged across the grass, the heavy rope was then used for double-Dutch jump rope, with all hands jumping in again. When was the last time you saw grown adults, some (inexplicably) in costumes playing jump rope? An entire day devoted to just hanging out with the family and doing things that kids like - it was so nice to see. Nobody was checking cell phones; there weren't sullen teenagers sulking in corners with their headphones on; everyone was involved and enthusiastic. 

Neighborhood party: Juarez-style

After sunset, the dance floor (previously the volleyball and basketball court) came to life with the hired DJ and lights, and the mothers retreated home to change into their best 70s and 80s gear. The fathers, one of whom owns a butcher shop nearby, started up a kettle drum of chopped meat "al pastor" (seasoned pork) and the food began to arrive in waves. The fixins' table held the obligatory salsas, chopped onions and cilantro, reams of tortillas, and another table was covered in pies and cakes and dispensing coolers full of fruity drinks for the kids, with chests of beer for the adults nearby. 

A neighbor came around to each woman present and gave her a yellow silk flower corsage for her dress, as now the focus went from being Kid's to Mother's Day. Yes, a week early, but probably because the families are away this weekend and wouldn't have been around to take part. In fact, Mother's Day is such a big deal here that we got Friday off work! Even after dark, the kids still played in the bouncy castle, and there's always a handful of pruny kids shivering in the pool way past dark. 

Tim and I chatted with a good group of neighbors, hearing about their jobs and receiving offers to visit various maquilas (factories, the main industry here) where they work. They were a variety of professions, from professors to engineers to lawyers, and in a recent shift in Mexican culture, the mothers are more commonly working now than in decades past. Most spoke English better than we spoke Spanish, and all were extremely welcoming to their city and neighborhood. Even with both parents working, the strength of the family was incredibly evident. One mother told me about a weekly meeting the community has called "jovenes con valores" (youth with values) where a different parent each week gives a talk about a different value. This would be the kind of topic one would hear in a Sunday school classroom, but this is without the religious setting.  

It's normal for young Mexicans to live at home through their college years (we saw this in Colombia, too), and nobody would make the "L" on the forehead of a 28 year old still living with his or her parents. (Side note: I think that is the most striking cultural difference I hear in my daily interviews. Most young adults live at home until they are married, and depending on their economic status - sometimes even afterwards.) 

We stayed, chatting, watching, laughing and listening to too-loud music until nearly midnight. I went to bed straight away, but I heard that the music lasted for many more hours. I was so happy to have taken part in this afternoon and gotten such a view into family life here. Now I just have to remember even a portion of the names and faces we met and continue getting to know people here to deepen our understanding and appreciation of our new environment. I think we're off to a good start.