Apartment for rent on the Tijuana coast - San Antonio del Mar

See URL for a look at the nearby neighborhood:
<http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6wTr0hVHME>

 

Maggi's email address is: bajamagpie2@yahoo.com

Rosarito Spanish Study Group

New class schedule for the Rosarito Spanish Study Group as of July 2, 2012:

*Hotel Corona Plaza
 Mondays:
 Advanced session from 11.30 A.M. to 1.00 P.M.
 Beginning session from 1.00 P.M. to 2.15 P.M.
 A NEW Introductory Beginner class from 2.30 P.M. to 3.45 P.M.

 Club Marena
 Tuesdays:
 Beginning session from 11.30 A.M. to 12.30 P.M.
 Intermediate session from 12.30 P.M. to 1.30 P.M.
 Thursdays:
 Beginning session from 11.30 A.M. to 12.30 P.M.
 Advanced session from 12.30 P.M. to 2.00 P.M.

For further information:
Susana Schinkel - Ph: 664.631.2283
Email: <sschinkel@yahoo.com>

*Hotel Corona Plaza Rosarito
Calle del Cedro #151, Rosarito 22710, Mexico

Ann Margaret is a real lady

This is a picture of Ann Margaret giving a concert to U.S. and allied troops near Da Nang, Viet Nam, 1966.

I watched her as she gave the concert as gunfire faintly sounded in the distance.  An announcement over the loudspeaker interrupted her show, as particular units were dispatched to repel the attack; and there was much shuffling and movement as troops left the concert.

Ann Margaret did not blink as she quickly directed her musicians to pick up where they had stopped. The sweating drummer quickly glanced around, picked up the beat, and the rest of the band continued the remainder of the song.  Ann Margaret brought the house down, finished her concert as per schedule, and hung out later to sign autographs.

She was, and is, our heroine, sister, and our most wonderful lady.

God bless you Ma’am!

Rosarito Spanish Study Group–new location

 

Two-bedroom home on the northwest Baja California Pacific coast

Beautiful ocean views of las Islas Coronados from two seaside terraces. It is one of the reasons we live here.

1 ½ baths, fully furnished, washer and dryer

Easy beach access
$650/month with minimum six month lease

Located in the coastal colonia of San Antonio del Mar, Carretera Escénica Tijuana/Ensenada HWY 1D, kilometer 19.5, just south of the Real del Mar bridge.*

This home is located 30/40 minutes from the Tijuana / San Ysidro International border crossing and a few minutes away from Playas de Rosarito, to the south.

Contact Gerry: artandgerry@yahoo.com.mx

*The Real Del Mar Championship Golf Course is just across the highway from San Antonio

Another Rosarito Spanish Study Group Change

Day and Time:

• Starting Monday, April 9, 2012

• Advanced class - 11:30 A.M.

• Intermediate class - 12:30 P.M.   

• Beginning class - 1:30 P.M.

Cost:

• As per agreement with la Profesora

• I do not stipulate to anyone the cost, or tuition, for any of her classes.  If pressed for a figure, I merely comment that her fees are reasonable, and they are none of my business.  When she is not available for a class, the members of the Study Group are encouraged to conduct reviews with each other which costs nothing.

• During my discussion with the manager of restaurante Puesta del Sol on Monday, he indicated that the members of the Study Group are expected to purchase drinks while they occupy table space.  Tipping the waiter is helpful to all concerned.

• Your study guide, which is required for the Beginning and Intermediate sessions, costs about $12.00 to print.

New Location:

• Restaurante Puesta del Sol, which is located at Hotel Pueblito Inn, Blvd. Benito Juárez No. 286, Playas de Rosarito B.C., cp 22710, (On the east side of the boulevard, three buildings north of the yellow "Elektra" store, which is located at the corner of Calle Tijuana & Blvd. Benito Juárez).

Tel: (661)612.2516/2667, Lada (Larga Distancia) 01800.027.5196. International (Dialing from a U.S. phone exchange): 1(888)203.8368.

• Directions over the phone may be obtained from Lorenzo, the restaurant manager, by dialing the hotel and asking to be connected to him (x705).

Notes:

*I intend to convene review sessions for the Study Group at Restaurante Puesta del Sol on Monday 2 April, from 11:30 - 02:00.  Please inform any students/or prospective students with whom you are in contact.

*I was recently asked if there was a "starting point" for a beginning student to attend class; the answer is yes.  Your starting point is that moment in time you decide to participate in the Study Group.  To begin, you must agree to participate in a module of six progressive sessions.  You need to have the "ganas" and flexibility to learn both forms of the Spanish you encounter here in Baja California.  I call these language forms "educated Spanish" and "survival Spanish."

*Much of the "survival Spanish" we learn is not found in books, but can be very helpful to a non-native speaker.

*Bring a Spanish or English/Spanish dictionary.  Feel free to refer to it often.

*Bring a writing instrument, a notebook, and index cards.

Saludos a todos,

Pat  

Information concerning a local worker from:
Richard Nicholas (Email address: rnicholas2000 at earthlink dot net)

Dated: Mar 26, 2012

"I have an employee that has been helping me build my home for 2+ years. I am completing the work and do not need him full time any longer...but would like to keep him for a couple of days per week for maintenance.  I'm looking for a few neighbors who might want to regularly employ him for a day or two each week or month."

His name is Salvadore.  He'a about 30ish, clean cut.....and very honest (he reads the Bible during lunch hour and breaks). He's a really good guy with two small kids at home and he needs to work.  He can basically do anything: fine wood work, plumbing, electrical, plaster, paint, tile work....you name it.  Very careful,thoughtful and precise work.  Always on time.  I pay him 55 pesos an hour and he is worth every penny.  If anyone is interested, please ask them to contact me directly by e-mail or at 858-395-4114 ..."

"He lives on the north side of Rosarito. He doesn't always have access to a car but gets to and from by thumb, friends and bus.  He's always on time ..."

The Rosarito Spanish Study group has moved its meeting location and hour

• Location - La Cazuela Del Mole. Dirección: Blvd. Benito Juárez 103, Zona Centro (011)(52)(661) 612 2910.

• Time: Monday, March 5, 2012 @ 11:30 A.M.

GOSSIP, LIES & HALF-TRUTHS

Our community is a giving one, and people really do care about each other – that is why I love living in Baja…however…

Many people, such as Baja elected officials, Baja business representatives, and citizens - both national and expat - have made a considerable effort to stop the media from regurgitating negative news stories.  It has been working, and the Union Tribune for one has made considerable changes in this regard.

In the space of a few misplaced words, all this work can quickly become undone.

Recently I was told a gruesome (partly true) story about an incident that happened nine months ago, being purported to have taken place a couple of weeks ago.  The culprits in this case were not the media, but rather a few individuals who take some sort of perverse delight at being “in the know”.  Checking out a story for authenticity is apparently not an option for some.

This sort of thing counteracts everything many Baja supporters have been working for these past few years.  These kinds of stories, because they are coming from locals, don’t help, but rather tend to give them legitimacy.

This is not an isolated case.  Rumors are always rampant in a unique community such as ours.  Some are very hurtful half-truths, some are outright lies, and some are just titillating stories repeated for their shock value.

Please stop and think of the harm you may be causing before passing on rumors, whether it be specifics about your friends and neighbors, or just plain old everyday general gossip.  No gossip is ever harmless.  It always hurts someone, and in some cases is just plain mean spirited.

I have been criticized by some for publishing the Reagan quote “Trust, but Verify” in my newsletter, which has nothing to do with politics and everything to do with being responsible for your words.  I have exchanged it for the Jewish Proverb “What you don't see with your eyes, don't witness with your mouth”, but they both essentially say the same thing.

Anne Hines, Editor

Rosarito Town Crier

Sister Clare's anniversary
Wednesday, June 8, marked Sister Clare Manhart's sixtieth anniversary with the religious order of Sisters of Mercy (Omaha). She came out of retirement to oversee operations at the convent school in Colonia Mazatlán, Municipio Rosarito, when Sister Ruth became disabled. A luncheon in her honor was held at the Rosarito Beach Hotel.

We love you sister Clare!

Senator McCain's speech at his son's winging ceremony in Pensacola on January, 2011

U.S. Senator John McCain (R-AZ) delivered the following remarks, Friday, 28 January 2011, at the Winging-Designation Ceremony at the Naval Air Station in Pensacola, Florida:

"Thank you, Colonel Coakley. Captain Vandiver:

"Over the years, I've given a good many speeches commending young men and women for successfully completing a rigorous course of instruction, and I've always begun by expressing appreciation for the graduates' families, who I believe deserve an equal share of the credit for the accomplishment. That would seem a little boastful on my part today, since I am one of the parent's here. I guess I can avoid immodesty by appropriately crediting my wife, Cindy, for our son, Jack's many fine qualities, and taking responsibility for any minor flaws he might possess, which we won't mention today. But I will say that I am as proud as any parent here, and as blessed.

I remember being in similar circumstances many years ago. Obviously, none of you were born when I earned my wings in Pensacola. Many of your parents weren't alive then either. It was a time when the Greatest Generation were in their thirties, buying their first houses, having children. America was led mostly by men who had been born in the 19th Century. It was before the Cuban Missile Crisis and Vietnam; before the great civil rights advances. People still sent telegrams and placed telephone calls through switchboards, and listened to music on the radio and on scratchy vinyl records that were recorded in mono. Elvis was still in the Army, and no one had ever heard of the Beatles. Men wore hats because their father's had, not because they thought it was ironic.

As I said, it was quite some time ago. In many ways it often seems to me another world entirely. But not today. Not as I look at you, and imagine how you must feel. I think I know how you feel. I think I once felt the same. I was pretty certain back then that I was very lucky to be me.

Back then, I drove a Corvette and flew A-1s. I loved the thrill of flying; the challenge of it. I loved testing myself and the very expensive machinery the government generously allowed me to operate. And because I assumed in my twenties that I would live forever, I wasn't even very distressed when I found myself in my airplane sitting on the bottom of Corpus Christi Bay one fine day. I swam to the surface, went to my quarters, changed my clothes, took a couple aspirin and headed out for another night's entertainment with my fellow bachelor officers. "Kick the tires and light the fires." I loved the image of a naval aviator. I loved the life. It was fun. So much fun, I don't know how I survived it.

My memories of that time are happy ones for a reason. I enjoyed every single moment of my life in Pensacola, from learning to fly to blowing my pay at Trader John’s. But I was sent here for more serious purposes than that, and it would take me a while to understand that.

Subsequent experiences taught me that military service was more than an adventure for people with vivid imaginations and a measure of audacity. It offers admission into history, possibly a big part of history, a much more daunting enterprise than proving one's mettle and with much greater things at stake than personal reputation or even the life and death of soldiers.

I loved my country then and now. I was reasonably well-read in history, and certainly grasped the uniqueness of America, a country not rooted in land and blood, but in an idea, an inspiring and noble idea. But, as Americans often do, my appreciation of America was more focused on the many advantages and opportunities of American life. Yet the experiences I had as a young naval officer, among them serving in a carrier task force during the Cuban Missile Crisis, gave me a greater perspective on what I had truly committed myself to, even as a very junior officer.

The defense of our country is important not only to the security of our countrymen and the blessings of life in America. It is important to the world: to the peace and stability of the world and to advancing in a hostile world those ideals we believe are universal. I was part of that great cause, a small and unessential part, but a part nonetheless. And to serve it as well as it deserved I would have to learn to subordinate personal ambitions and conceits, even parts of my nature that I prided myself on, to a much more important good. Of course, I didn't grasp the full import of this revelation until some years later, when my time at war finally arrived.

In the upheaval of war, that great leveler of ego and distinction, things change. Countries change. History changes. And people change. Life is more precious and more vulnerable, and less your own. You develop as strong a bond, as deep a concern with those who serve beside you as you will ever have with anyone outside your family. And you will discover an insight that many people never will. That your life is bigger and more satisfying the more that it is part of something beyond your self interest.

When I left Pensacola America was at peace. They were dangerous times. The Cold War threatened the world with mass destruction should it turn hot. The Cuban Missile Crisis would occur a little more than two years later. But World War II and Korea were behind us. And but for a few military advisers deployed there, Vietnam was a little known, far off problem for most Americans

As you leave here America has been at war for nearly a decade. After much terrible sacrifice, and many mistakes, our war in Iraq has reached a more successful conclusion than we might have hoped for a few years ago. But we will be involved in combat operations in Afghanistan for at least a few more years. And the prospect for our success there, while better than it was two years ago, is still uncertain.

I expect many of you will at some point be called to duty there. I have every confidence your service will more than meet the high expectations your country has for you.

This a challenging time in our history, and the history of the world. The world is much changed since I served in the Navy. In the Cold War, we faced a powerful enemy with the means to destroy the entire world. But despite the wars we fought during it, and the cruelty the Soviets inflicted on the captive peoples of its empire, it was a more stable and more predictable world than the one we live in now.

We face different and more various threats today. From Islamic extremism to the rise of China to cyberterrorism to the depletion of water and fossil fuel supplies to the unique vulnerabilities of a globalized economy, the tasks facing the world's statesmen are many and complex and daunting. History has accelerated, and we must race to keep up with it.

But your mission is the same as it has always been. You are the defenders of our freedom, the caretakers of our most vital interests, and the custodians of our values, and you will protect us from all threats wherever they originate. We are grateful to you. We admire you. We are indebted to you. And I envy you, the honor you have.

What we have achieved in this country is very much worth defending. The thought that any American wouldn't believe that saddens me. And we are so invested in this world. Our prosperity, our safety, cannot be protected by retiring from a troublesome world, and building imagined walls to the progress of history. It was our founding belief that America and the world would be far better and more secure were the natural and inalienable rights of life and liberty, the principles of free people and free markets, to be possessed by all humanity. And we have sacrificed greatly to secure those rights for people we never knew in places we had never heard of before. We have done so in defense of our interests as well as our ideals, but we have done so. Very few other nations can make that claim.

We are blessed to be Americans, not just in times of peace and prosperity. We are part of something providential: a great experiment to prove to the world that democracy is not only the most effective form of government, but the only moral government. And through the years, generation after generation of Americans have held fast to the belief that we were meant to transform history. What greater cause than that could we ever find?

What I wish every American understood is, despite its attendant risks and sacrifices, military service even for one or two enlistments or for a career is one of the most rewarding experiences you could ever have. Make no mistake, those risks and sacrifices are great and daunting even in peacetime. But few other occupations so completely invest your life with importance, even historic importance, and so well develop your character along lines of excellence. It is an advantage and a satisfaction you will always have that others will never know.

The global advance of our ideals is not the first responsibility of our military. Our military is not always the best instrument of that cause, though it has certainly served it of necessity and at great sacrifice. But the defense of our possession of them is your responsibility. And no other profession has done that so admirably, so selflessly as the United States Armed Forces. I wish all Americans could have the experience of such sublime service to a greater good that you will now have, and which I was very lucky to have once had, and which began in practice, here, in Pensacola.

"Good luck to you all. May God protect you.  And thank you.  On behalf of our country and for myself, I can say I am certain we are in good hands."

Keiko The Untold Story Trailer Video:
http://youtu.be/O9xItzQ8gY8

TWO AMERICANS KILLED WHILE WAITING TO CROSS INTERNATIONAL BORDER

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

TIJUANA, Mexico – Two men killed early Monday morning by a gunman who opened fire while they waited in line to reach a Tijuana border crossing were U.S. citizens, a diplomat said Tuesday.

U.S. Consulate spokesman Joseph L. Crook said the men were waiting in line in their vehicle early Monday almost half a mile (almost a kilometer) from the San Ysidro crossing, one of the world's busiest ports of entry.

"Our condolences go out to their families at this difficult time," the consulate said in a statement. "We are working closely with the Mexican authorities to ascertain all of the facts."

Prosecutors in Baja California state quoted witnesses as saying a gunman approached the line and fired into the men's pickup truck, hitting the victims in the head, arms and body. Both victims were dead by the time authorities arrived.

Sergio Salcido Luna, 25, and Kevin Joel Romero, 28, were found dead in the vehicle having been shot several times. The men's pickup had California plates. A small amount of drugs were recovered from the scene, local law enforcement said.

Police found 9-mm shell casings at the scene.

Their San Diego employer described them as diligent workers who had moved to the Mexican border city so they could afford to live on the beach.

Matt Pelot of San Diego-based West Coast Beverage Maintenance, confirmed the victims were his employees.

He said Romero's sister called him Monday morning to tell him they had been killed.

"She just said I just wanted to let you know that Sergio and Kevin were shot and killed this morning at the border, and obviously I was taken back," he said. "I was in shock, and I'm still in shock. These were good guys. Obviously no one deserves to die like this, but these were good guys."

The men, who were good friends and had worked for Pelot for more than a year, were crossing around 2:40 a.m. as they usually did to beat the long lines that form later in the morning when thousands cross to go to work or school on the U.S. side, Pelot said. They had moved to Tijuana because of the lower cost of living.

Romero's parents live near the border on the U.S. side and the men would go there to sleep before heading in to work. The two maintained draft beer systems at restaurants and bars in the San Diego area and were always eager to work overtime for the small company, which has 13 employees, Pelot said.

Pelot said he was just thinking of promoting Romero, who was originally from San Diego. Romero was trying to adopt his Mexican girlfriend's son and move them to the United States someday, while Salcido, he said, was a single guy who was born in Tijuana to U.S. citizens and grew up in Bakersfield, Calif. He said Salcido loved martial arts and was training for an upcoming bout in Tijuana.

"Kevin Romero didn't even drink beer," Pelot said. "These guys weren't dealing drugs that's for sure. If Sergio was your friend, he'd give you the shirt off his back. Kevin was the same. He was a real family oriented guy who couldn't wait to get home and take a walk on his beach with his son and dogs."

Pelot said his employees had invited him to visit them in Tijuana but he was too afraid to cross the border because of the city's violence.

More than 34,000 people, including an increasing number of U.S. citizens, have been killed in Mexico's drug war, but shootings of people waiting in line to cross into the United States are extremely rare.

In the first six months of 2010, the latest State Department figures available, 49 Americans were victims of homicide in Mexico, up from 37 for the same period in 2009 and 19 in the first half of 2008.

The majority of the slayings happened in border cities such as Ciudad Juarez and Tijuana, which have also been the hardest hit by drug violence. In some cases, the Americans apparently were in the company of Mexican friends, relatives or acquaintances who were the targets.

Charlie Sheen: Drug cartel's pitchman


By Patrick Osio

Charlie Sheen may have become the best pitchman for international drug cartels, that, I venture, would gladly pay him the added million a week he demands to continue acting on the cancelled Three and a Half Men television sitcom from the better than $30 billion the cartels rake in annually from U.S. users. He can be their poster child luring legions of fans into the world of drug consumption.

In his public confession to drug use in one of his several television interviews, Sheen said, "I probably took more than anybody could survive. ... I was bangin' seven-gram rocks and finishing them because that's how I roll, because I have one speed, one gear. [I survived] because I'm me. I'm different. I have a different constitution, I have a different brain, I have a different heart. I got tiger blood, man. dying' s for fools, dying's for amateurs."

Is Charlie Sheen's bragging about drug usage and indispensable to a good party, make him an accomplice to the killing spree the Republic of Mexico is enduring? Sadly, he and his many fans may not see the connection, but it's there.

Why didn't the interviewers say and ask: "Charlie in Mexico there have been over 34,000 people, and more to follow, killing each other for the right to bring you and others the drugs you use, but among those killed are police officers, police chiefs, mayors of cities, judges, prosecutors, journalist and innocent people including children some as old or younger than yours, caught in the cross fire. Don't you feel like you are an accomplice to these crimes? Don't you feel any pangs of conscience over so many deaths your drug use causes?"

And, "Charlie, what would you say to the parents of those children killed in the crossfire about your statement, 'dying is for fools, dying is for amateurs'? Were they fools? Were they amateurs placed here for your pleasure?"

We will of course, never know his answers since he wasn't asked. But as bad as not asking was Pierce Morgan's observation that Sheen sounds "alarmingly normal" In short: Hey, you're right on and since you're alarmingly normal, anyone who does the same is as alarmingly normal as you are.

How many thousands of Charlie wanabees took his and Morgan's endorsement message to heart thinking if he can do it so can I. "I wanna live like the great one!!" I wanna have it all, just like him."

Drug's usage promises of care free and wonderful state of being are induced illusions, but its destructive harm is significant and certain. By all accounts this is what at some point awaits Sheen, and what awaits those who follow his lead. But the killings in Mexico continue and more and more are overlapping into the U.S.

Drug usage is a U.S. national disgrace and the part it plays on the killing spree in Mexico a national shame. Our journalists all but ignore the causes of the killings, never digging more than just scratching the surface, but always pointing the finger south placing the responsibility and culpability on countries south. Our political body screams about more border fencing, about national security but never about drug usage's role in the meltdown. And of course, the usage of drugs by their own peers in news rooms and political chambers.

And the popular and famous help elevate drug usage from sub to main stream culture. It's OK to use, just don't get caught and if you do, apologize, enter rehab, come out and go back to partying. If your name is Paris, tell them you've learned your lesson and you're going to dedicate your life to helping the women prisoners you met; then go back to partying. If your name is Lindsay keep denying it and keep going back to rehab until you do something that the court seems to think is a greater crime than illegally purchasing and using drugs that come from international drug cartels who don't mind massacring people.

By far of the various popular celebrities pushing the drug usage envelope, the most famous, charismatic and immensely talented is Charlie Sheen. As such he has the power to be the Pied Piper who can lead a generation into the world of drug use, or conversely be the one who leads them away.

Unfortunately as long as Charlie doesn't realize his true value and his potential contribution to his nation and its people, he will be the poster child for drug use and drug traffickers.

Patrick Osio

Editor

HispanicVista.com
---------------------------------------------

Thank you for your usual insight, Tocayo.

I suspect the answer to the question you have posed is: "You cannot fix stupid."

Saludos,

Pat Mullen

Radiation plume from Japan is apparently on its way

Break out the kelp tablets. Projected path of radiation plume from Japan headed towards U.S., according to NYT.

URL: http://tinyurl.com/4wx7gpo


Posted by Pat

JAPAN COMMUNICATIONS, CONTINUED

From W6KY


In case you haven't seen this already:

Following freq'assigned for emergency QSO. Please be clear. Thank you for

your kind help! Ops JARL & volunteers - 3520 to 3530, 7025 to 7035, 14090 to

14110, 21190 to 21200, 28190 to 28210, 50100, 51000, 14100, 14500, 430100,

433000. DXped Ops - Please kindly consider QSX freq & RTTY freq.

73, Art W6KY

ps; Heard from Shin, JA1NUT. He is North of Tokyo. He is a doctor and very busy.

No food, little water. He has family in Northern Japan, but hasn't heard from them.

Entire towns missing. The news says, Japan (the entire island) has moved eight feet.

JAPAN COMMUNICATIONS

Freqs to avoid by CW users so we don't interfere with emergency communications in Japan


http://ei7is.blogspot.com/2011/03/japan-earthquaketsunami-emergency.html


The Japan Amateur Radio League (JARL) Regional HQ station JA7RL is now involved in emergency communication to support rescue and disaster relief coordination using 7 MHz SSB, 144 MHz SSB/FM and 430 MHz SSB/FM.

Recent information from CQ Newsroom: http://cqnewsroom.blogspot.com/2011/03/quake-update-radio-amateurs.html

7043 kHz is being used by JR3QHQ, the Osaka branch manager of JARL, gathering incident information on radio and forwarding it to the Internet.

7075 kHz is occasionally operated by JL3YSP in Wakayama.

7030 kHz is the JARL emergency communication frequency in its bandplan and is in use by JA7RL (JARL regional HQ station).

Please report other freqs as you learn of them

I also heard that SATERN web site was taking request for Health and Welfare information

mail Site - http://satern.org/

Click on  Health and Welfare Information Request it takes you to Request Forms here

http://qso.com/satern/emailfrm.htm

73, Dennis N6KI

The real life adventure of Jerry Shelby


Thu Mar 3, 2011 6:03 pm (PST)

"Back From the Other Side…OOoooweeeooo

This tale is for those who are curious about what happened to me over the past couple weeks, and for those who would like to know what it is really like to deal with a heart attack. I am sure there are many reading this who have, `been there and done that' and who can relate and may get a chuckle out if it anyway.

Day One and Two

Mexico

On February 2, 2011 at around 4 pm I was in the process of closing up the café. I had just pulled in chairs from the patio and was there with one customer who had brought in a gold ring to be apprised. After looking the ring over, I was in the process of placing it into the safe; shutting the door and spinning the dial. I stood up to walk out of the office when someone or something from a parallel universe had decided to zap me in the middle of my chest with a hot poker! Another analogy is that an alien had just hatched inside my chest and wanted out bad. In either case, it only took two micro-seconds to realize that I was having a heart attack. Why me?

I headed for the closest chair, sat down, and put my feet up on a table all while calling to Kim who still happened to be there to get the phone and call for an ambulance and to call my wife. It went more like:

Me: "Call an ambulance."

Kim: "What's the number?"

Me: "066"

Kim: "What is the address here?"

Like most of Ensenada there are two names for most of the streets. The one in front of the café has three. With her Spanglish and my strained directions the conversation resulted into what seemed like fives minutes before she hung up. Meanwhile, I am trying to be calm and just breathe as every heartbeat is booming in my chest. The call to Beatriz went much more smoothly. It seemed to take a half an hour until I could hear the ambulance coming. Kim stood outside to wave them down and the Calvary finally arrived; Beatriz first and then the ambulance.

What they did or said is more or less blurred. I ended up at an emergency hospital around 10th street, address unknown. There they poked Aspirin and tiny nitro pills down my throat and kept asking if I felt better. "From a scale of 0-10, how is the pain?" After about 30 minutes of poking more pills down my gullet, asking the same questions and getting the same response, someone made and executive decision to transport me to the public general hospital across town.

After being back in the ambulance for another ride that seemed to take another half hour, I ended up being delivered to an emergency entrance. As they opened the back door, curious on lookers were pushing to get a better look as they wheeled me inside and down a hallway.

General Hospital Ensenada
Once inside things started to move a little faster. They hooked up IV's, robbed me of my cloths, drew blood, took EKG's , and continued to poke pills down my pie hole all while asking me the 0-10 question again. All this happened as the alien was still fighting to get out of my chest.

Life started to get a little more comfortable after they injected something in my IV, but the pain was making sure I knew it was still there. The doctor (a female) came over to tell me that I had a heart attack. (As if I didn't know this already) Her bedside patient rapport was much like a check out cashier at Calimax. I got the impression she was insulted or pissed that I could not speak Spanish and perhaps was taking up her valuable time. "Geese, another Gringo!"

Lying there, still experiencing chest pain, a male nurse showed up and closed the curtains around my bed. He came in with what I recognized as a pee bag with a hose attached. It didn't take much to figure out that this guy had intentions of taking the working end of his garden hose and poking it right up the middle of Mr. Happy! "Whoooha, this isn't going to be fun!" was my immediate thought. However, the nurse was quick and efficient, and the sensations were more uncomfortable than painful. Whew! Glad that was behind me. That was another first time life experience to add to a growing list for that day. I didn't think a hose that big would fit up there!

Now, by then I had been laying there for an hour or so, and out of the blue another alien started to wake up and make itself known, (OH CRAP! I'M HAVING TWINS!!) As the pain grew and my heart started to race I began trying to get the attention of a man that looked like a doctor, but who was occupied with what must have been important paperwork in the bull pin. As I continued to struggle to communicate with the doc, a man laying in a bed across from my crib, asked in perfect English, "Are you having chest pains?" to which I replied the big affirmative. He, with great authority, said in Spanish, "This man is having a heart attack!" The doctor looked up towards me and with the `what now? I'm busy' look and came over and injected something into my IV. Whatever it was, I felt the stuff as it traveled inside of me and the pain increased in my heart. I thought it was going to explode! At that point things started to ease up and I slowly relaxed, fell asleep, or passed out.

Some time later, I was moved to their ICU. Inside the ICU I was in a room with one patient totally sedated who I found out later had underwent brain surgery. Laying there still feeling pressure in my chest, but not as painful, the male nurse on duty continued to poke Aspirin and nitro down the pie hole and asked the number question.

As the evening grew into nighttime, nothing much happened. However, I couldn't help but notice my nurse had a cold. He was walking around the room coughing and blowing his nose without wearing a mask or gloves. I was less than comfortable when he handed my meds with his bare hands. I actually told him to wash his hands first, which he did, but still handed me the already contaminated pills. But by then I no longer cared. I lay there trying to put my mind in another place while ignoring a steady stream of fellow employees coming in and out, visiting, laughing, and fooling around playing on his computer. The room finally became quiet around midnight.

At around two in the morning I woke up and was looking at my heart monitor which showed my heart rate was in the 130's. My nurse was at his desk with his head in his folded arms. He was fast asleep. Around four in the morning my heart rate was still running in the 130's and the pressure was building in my chest. I tried to wake the nurse up by calling out, but when that didn't work I picked up the tissue box next to my bed and remarkably tossed it across the room and bounced it off his head. "Score!" That got his attention, but for only a minute. I pointed at the monitor and he looked up, then laid his head back down and went back to his nap.

Now it was Thursday morning and at around 6 AM Beatriz walked into the room to see me. I told her, "get me the $#@% out of here or I will just lay here and die." Thirty minutes later she was back with my ride to the USA.

The E Ticket Ride to San Diego

I was quickly transferred onto the ambulance gurney and wheeled into the awaiting van. Again there was great interest to those standing around outside. With red lights flashing and serine clearing the way I was laying flat on my back I was not able to anticipate turns, stops, or bumps that lay ahead. I was dealing with a constant changing combination of G forces that pushed towards my feet and then hard breaking that sent everything inside of me rushing to my head. I now know what a tank of water feels like. I am sure there wasn't a pothole missed. Some of these land mines I recognized having driven the toll road 1,000 times myself. I learned later that when we were navigating through Ensenada, an unmarked car put on the red lights and cut a path through traffic. The ride from the tollbooth in Ensenada to Gloria exit in Rosario was more or less passed by quickly with not too much bouncing around. However, when we turned off at the La Gloria exit taking the back roads to Tijuana, the radical bobbing and weaving got to the point I had to focus outside the back window to avoid getting car sick. Finally, we arrived at the sentry lane and I let out a sigh of relief. The ride was over.

USA Border

It seemed we waited about fifteen minutes before the Chula Vista Fire Department arrived to take charge. Four firemen paramedics that looked like they probably worked their days off as Chippendale dancers took control with Buzz Light-Year, no nonsense efficiency. Of course my IV from Mexico did not meet their standards so they removed it and quickly replaced it with one of theirs. Lucky for me they seemed to be satisfied with my man hose and left it alone.

They worked quickly taking blood pressure and transmitting EKG's to the hospital. The man in charge wasn't interested that we had already called ahead to the VA hospital in La Jolla, or to the fact that they were waiting for me. I protested when they gave orders to go to Sharp Hospital in Chula Vista, but the paramedic made his point when he said, "I don't think you will make it to La Jolla, so we are going to the closest hospital." `Okay, that sounds good to me' I thought, and I decided at that moment I was not in charge time to just shut up and go with the flow. So, I laid there very still fighting off nausea from my ride to the border, and I was feeling the reawakening of my sciatic nerve spasms shooting down my left leg. Perhaps I should have just driven?

Sharp Chula Vista Hospital

Thursday, February 3rd.

I am not sure what time of the day it was when we arrived, but as they opened the back of the ambulance and rolled me into the emergency entrance I felt like I was the main subject of a General Hospital or E.R. series. I was met with a team of nurses and doctors that went to work like a well-oiled machine. By the time they wheeled me into ICU, I think I had a chest x-ray, blood draw, more IV's inserted, and monitors attached. I also answered the 0-10 question several times. There was a beehive of activity all around me. Elvis was in the house! I was feeling better already.

My doctor was Roman Szkopiec (scope – ic) and he was straight forward in letting me know I had suffered a major heart attack due to two blocked arteries in my heart. As it turned out, Dr. Szkopic is the Head Cheese Weenie for Interventional Cardiology and Director of Cardiac Catheterization Laboratory. "Boo Rhaaa!" SCORE!

He told me that I was not a candidate for open-heart surgery and he was going to perform Angioplasty to clean out the blockages. He said the odds of me dying from the procedure were 2 in 200. Without it my chances were 50/50. I liked the 2/200 odds and at that point I didn't care what they did as long as the pain would ease.

Shortly after this conversation two nurses with great bedside manners showed up with an electric razor and tools of the trade. They quickly transformed Mr. Happy and the surrounding territory into a 10 year old boy scout. By now I didn't care if they sold tickets as any apprehensions I may have had for public nudity had vanished.

After transferring me onto a gurney I was pushed down the hall towards what looked like an operating room. However, it was quickly clear to me that most likely when not in use they also stored hanging meat because it was colder than all get out. Yet, to their defense, they did tell me on the way it would be a little cold.

Laying there on this refrigerated slab under what looked like a TV wrapped in plastic, I discovered the good Doctor was not going to put me under for this procedure. I again braced myself for a new experience with pain. But the procedure wasn't as bad as I expected. The stick of a needle in the right groin was the worst of it. I felt more pressure than anything else. It was a strange however, as I felt what seemed to be scratching or scrubbing inside my chest. I would have loved to see what was going on, but was told to remain still.

The ordeal was over in what seemed like 15 to 20 minutes.

I was happy that was over and was taken back to my bed in ICU. There I learned from Dr. Szkopiec that he only cleared out one of the two blocked arteries and inserted a stint. The second blockage was much larger and deeper in my heart. He wanted to give my heart a little time to rest before going after the next challenge.

Probably the worst pain in this ordeal was from what seemed to feel and look like big plastic clothes pin that put 60 pounds of pressure on the point of entry into my right groin. This device had to remain there for at least eight hours. Even with dose of morphine my 0-10 was headed for an 11. After complaining to the nurse repeatedly, she slowly released a little pressure on the clamp every half hour, but the pain was still making itself known.

In my sleep induced by the help of pain-killers I tried to remove the clamp on my own. When they discovered I had moved it all hell broke loose. However, with a close inspection they were confident there was no bleeding and all was well. But, I was chastised for being a bad boy. They replaced the clamp with a 10 pound sand bag which was much more tolerable.

When morning came they delivered something to eat and I did my best to get down two or three bites. The hospital food wasn't all bad; I just didn't have any appetite. Between taking what seemed like 9 or 10 pills every six hours, blood draws at what seemed to be every three hours, chest x-rays twice a day, more blood draws and EKG's I was lucky to get two hours of sleep at one time. That being said, I could not be more impressed with the level of care and attention I received by the nurses and staff. But the cure was killing me.

Later that afternoon on day two, laying still with my heart still in a horse race, my world started to fade to orange as I realized that I was going to pass out. The last thing I remembered was reaching for the nurse call button. I found out later that I had indeed flat lined and stopped breathing. At that moment I was dead? All of a sudden I found myself surrounded in some state of light. "Oh shit! I'm in the light!" was my first thoughts. It felt very comfortable, free of pain or discomfort. I felt like I was looking around waiting to see if someone from my past was going to appear. However, I saw nothing, just light for what seemed like a minute and then slowly people standing around my bed came into focus. They seemed to be relieved that I opened my eyes and smiled. The first person I noticed was a nurse with two paddles in her hands that she had used to shock my heart back into action. Later my nurse said, "You scared the hell out of everyone!" Doctor Szkopiec was there and told me that he was going to try to shock my heart back into the correct rhythm. I had my eyes closed and was wondering what, "K-ZAP!" it would feel like.

Keep in mind that Beatriz along with Elizabeth had been there for two days. I told Beatriz to go home and get some rest, that I would be fine. I found out later that she had just returned home to Ensenada for about fifteen minutes when the doctor called her and told her she needed to come back because I had a setback and I may not make it through the night. She was a total wreck as she turned around and got back in the car and headed towards the USA not knowing if I was alive. To make matters worse, when she arrived they had moved me to another room, and when she walked in and I wasn't there she about passed out. After spending the night again, I finally talked her into going home and staying there until they discharged me. She looked like she had been pulled through a knot hole backwards.

The good doctor figured they needed to go back and clean out the larger blockage and install a balloon in my main artery to help my heart rest from the ordeal. "Oh yippee! I get to go back to the cooler for another first time experience!" This time, however, the ordeal wasn't as bad as the first trip. I felt the stick in the groin and then the next thing I heard was the doctor telling me how good I did following directions. "Okay, whatever you say Doc."

For the next two days I lay in my bed with what felt like a cricket in my chest. But it was painless. However, the barrage of pills, blood draws, x-rays, and EKG's kept me on my two-hour sleep pattern. My next biggest concern was the fact that I had not passed much gas let alone did the #2 for what seemed like a week. Probably the most uncomfortable part of this whole adventure was when you reach the point where you cannot put anymore into the pie hole unless something else makes room. After four days it got to the point that it would take everything I could not to toss my lunch when the nurse showed up with more damn pills to take. Without going in to details, by day five I think I experienced what a hibernating bear must go through after coming out of their cave in the spring. Or, another analogy could perhaps be a little of what birth pains must feel like. To make matters worse I had so many IV's in my right for so long they started to infuse into the muscles in my arm. My arms started to swell up and feel like a rock. When touched the pain did go from 0 to 12 instantly. A couple days later the left arm started to do the same thing.

Show Me the Love

During my stay in ICU the phone wouldn't stop ringing. After calls from my adopted family, my kids, brothers, and the amazing concern from my friends in Ensenada, the receptionist ask the nurse "Who the hell is this guy?" Even though I could not answer the phone in ICU the nurses always relayed the messages and that support was the best medicine. When the word got out to my old job the calls and visitors increased. Not only did friends come out of the woodwork, the nursing staff could not of been more attentive.

I only had one bad experience with one gum chewing blond who came to draw blood. It was apparent she did not want to be there? Normally the staff from the lab introduce themselves, let me know what they are going to do, check my arm band and try to make this process quick and as painless as they can. However sweet cheeks, walked jabbed me in the arm and walked without saying HI, Boo see-ya!

Moving Day, from ICU to a Regular Room "Yippee!

By now I had been in ICU for 7 days and was ready to be moved to a new room with new adventures to come. I was very excited to be leaving and they moved me to a new floor and into my new digs. But I was taken aback when they dropped me in the middle of what seemed like a Chaldean goat BBQ. On the other side of the room were about nine people. I think the whole family of my new roommate was in the house? By his side were the mother-in-law, wife, sister, kids, grand kids, and probably his barber. It took about two seconds to know I was not welcome as Mr. Wall-e (as I named him) went into a rampage that he was supposed to have a private room. This conflict went on between him, his family, and the attending nurse for at least 20 minutes if not more. During several minutes of this debate I tried to just lay there and not pay attention.

Finally, the nurse left telling him she would do what she could, but after she walked out the door the chatter continued to ratchet up. After about ten minutes of this continued debate his granddaughters started making a fuss fighting over the TV controller. I had had enough and I paged the nurse. When she arrived I told her that she either get me the F&^% out of there or she needed to clear the room. She agreed something needed to be done and left the room. She returned in what seemed like two minutes with security. She let them know that visitors are limed to two and cleared out the room. Now I really felt the love as they walked past my bed.

This ordeal continued between Wall-e and the nurse. Then Wall-e said the wrong thing, "If I cannot get my own room I want to go home now!" With that said the nurse in charge said, "Okay! Let me check with your doctor and I will see if we make that happen." Wall-e's big boca just got his ass tossed out of the bar!

Here I should like to add that I am not prejudice [sic]. I know that people of any race can be passionate when it comes to their family, and some are not necessarily open to strangers. I don't care where Wall-e was from, but it wasn't my choice to be his roommate. He was a demanding asshole no matter where he is from.

The next morning as Wall-e and his wife exited the room I wished him good luck and commented that he had a very beautiful family. That comment which was sincere seemed to ease the tension as they smiled and left.

Later, in came a new roommate. JR, a Mexican American who under protest was brought to the hospital by his family during the Super Bowl. He ended up having double bypass surgery. JR is a prison guard out at Donovan's and we hit the ground running. Because of him, the last few days at the hospital were enjoyable. Even the nurses coming into our room seemed to enjoy the banter between us?.

I was ready to go home by Friday the 11th, but the doctor wanted to keep me over the weekend just to be safe. Finally on Monday, Valentine's Day, I was released late in the afternoon and totally enjoyed a breath of fresh night air as we headed back home.

With this entire behind me,[sic] it was good to get back home. Looking back there was more positive that came out of this experience than bad. Sometimes it takes a drastic chain of events to find out just how much you are loved and respected.

I have been home for two weeks and I am back at the café or a few hours daily. Only this time I let my wonderful crew open and close while I now come and go like a rock star keeping in touch with my friends who are more than just customers.

Hopefully, you will drop by and say, and even better have something to eat I need the money.

Thank you for your support

Jerry and Beatriz Shelby"

MEXICAN HUMOR CAN BE WRY