Open House

Tonight was the Upper Elementary's Open House (Andrew's Open House is tomorrow night). All the parents come, sit in the classroom, and stare blankly at me while I spew the script given to me by the school. All things considered (ie: that most of the only speak Spanish, and the speech was obviously in English), it went quite well.

The people here LOVE to give the cheek kiss, on entrance and exit. I can still smell the perfume on me. You know how you sometimes don't know if someone's going to greet you with a handshake, so you don't know how to position yourself, and then the handshake ends up being weak because you didn't anticipate it properly?? Add in the possibility of a cheek kiss, and you can then appreciate the new level of social etiquette that we have to overcome.

The kids are all good. Other than normal precociousness of grade five children, they are really well-behaved. And according to some of the parents, their children love me. It's always good to have the parents on your side...

All of the mothers are extremely well-dressed. Although I didn't wear a suit or anything, I wore the most flattering outfit I have hear, and some dressy high-heels. Because everyone here is rich, they really love to show off the bling (approx. tuition for the school per month: $1000Cdn).

I feel like I'm getting to the point were the dust is settling, and that I'll be able to cruise through and just check out tomorrow's plans the night before. Breathing space, after all of the initial prep, will be nice. Some of the parents have invited us out for excursions or offered to help us find our way around town. They are all very friendly and nice. The dichotomy between parents here and in Canada is very striking.

After a long break...

Good Evening all,

It's been about twenty days since my last blog. Inexcusably long I know; and I can only say, as Caroline has so pleaded our case, that the sheer busyness of preparing a new year of school has been overwhelming. My position has some particularly unique challenges being that I am the only 9th grade language arts teacher, and as such, am entrusted with great privilege and responsibility. Most teachers would kill to be the final say on all things academic in their faculty; however, as a new teacher, with one hundred and fifty students all jockeying for position in the next private high school, it's lonely at the top. I've had to make a lot of planning decisions with no advice other than my common sense, but managed to tread water so far. Moreover, I should say that I not entirely without aid, as Caroline's good humour, and the support of other staff at the school has been invaluable.
As for the school; well it is a modernist's paradise with expansive open spaces, a lush fountain, and botanical garden reminiscent of the old Greek schools of Socrates. My classroom is a fishbowl; all walls are glass to the interior. I have a ceiling installed projector, and best of all, a Smart board (if you're into the sort of thing). Personally, I'd just be happy if everybody would synchronize their watches and the guards spoke English. My students are quite good, but the sheer scale of everything is immense. Any activity sheet I wish to use must be photocopied 150 times :S Needless, to say, in the name of sanity (more than mere environmentalism) I have become much pickier about what I photocopy than I used to be.
I shall not indulge, though it is tempting, in describing all the events that have occurred since my last post. Caroline, in her diligence, has kept you quite abreast of our excursions. However, I will say by Wednesday of last week I was literally a zombie. I can't remember being this tired since my basic Army training ten years ago. As tiring as the schedule is, I also find the prospect of being a classroom teacher, with my own little literary agenda to run, quite rewarding, and it will be difficult to return home.
This weekend, we collapsed into a balmy Friday afternoon at another colleagues patio and engaged in a little shop talk, and a lot of discussion about our plans for future travel. As the evening wore on, Caroline and I retired early, and I'm quite sure I slipped into a coma that night.
Saturday night, I took my lady on the town, as we strolled the Santa Lucia canal at the height of a number of festivities for whose origin we were not entirely sure. We enjoyed a tantalizing dinner from a surprisingly attentive staff, but by Sunday morning we were back at the grindstone.
Alas, friends, I must sleep. I shall try to be more consistent in the future as I now have all the "start up" wrinkles out of my system. Till our next adventures.


vaya le bien!

Weekend Update

The weekend was glorious. It's not so much that the kids are bad (mine are actually pretty good), it's just everything feels so rushed that it's so nice to actually be able to sit back and relax.

The pressure is coming from the math program that the school has bought into. It's one of those things wherein the kids don't get a textbook, and all the quizzes are multiple choice because that way the students use whatever method they want to figure out the answer. Every day there's two periods of math (most of the other subjects are 3-5 times a week, versus the 10 times per week for math), so if the kids don't get something, there isn't a chance to repeat the material, unless you don't mind falling quickly behind on the schedule. The returning grade 5 teachers have been telling me not to worry about; one of them hasn't even started teaching the math yet. Some of my kids really aren't getting it (have you heard of using 'arrays' to figure out multiplication?), and there's no blocks/periods/recesses/after-school where I can catch them up.

In one week, the after-school clubs that we have to lead start. I did get what I wanted, which was the mini-UN club (grades 5 & 6), although I am splitting the management of the club with another new teacher. The reason why I wanted the mini-UN is twofold. Andrew did not have a choice in after-school clubs; as a grade nine teacher, he has to run the grade nine UN club. So my reason #1 is that we can now bounce ideas off of each other. Reason #2 is the possibility of trips. The UN clubs compete, and of course they will need chaperons. If I am involved with the mini-UN, it increases my chances of going on one of the trips. Locations will be revealed to you at a later date (after I get confirmation that my ploy has succeeded).

On Friday night, after grocery shopping, Andrew and I relaxed at a colleague's house for an hour or so, and then we came home. A light supper was accompanied by a Fresh Prince of Bel-Air marathon. It was satisfying. We caught the tail-end of the very first episode, and watched the next few after that. And if anyone reading this is scoffing at the Fresh Prince, I'd put money on it that you know the opening rap song.

Saturday was spend lesson planning etc. In the evening, we left on our very first Mexican date. We took a cab to the city centre, and walked amongst the many statues and fountains in this area. We then walked the length of the Santa Lucia canal (3-4 km one-way) and back before enjoying supper in a restaurant at the water's edge. We started with a cheese fondue, Andrew had a 10oz steak, and I had a heaping skillet of fajita (couldn't finish it...that never happens). With supper we had a very nice Mexican wine; all this for a paltry $57Cdn. Well done, I'd say...

Major Delays

First off, both Andrew and I feel horrible about the length of time since the last post. The only excuse we have is that we've been so busy with planning for school. Because today was the first day, the past week has been a whirlwind of last-minute preparations when we were stuck in 'useful' meetings put on by the administration.

The main time-consuming activity is adjusting and then re-adjusting to all the little changes that are continually thrust upon us. These people definitely see the trees, not the forest, in terms of detail. The level of micro-managing is astounding. For example, if one person decides that we want to bind the math activity sheets, we must all conform to the new standard. They are obsessed with little details, like the binding of books, when meanwhile Andrew finally got his class schedule today at 8am (bear in mind that his classes start at 8am).

The first day was crazy-busy. These grade 5 kids don't know how to shut their yaps. I tell them to put their pencils in their pencil cases, and I get 22 different questions about their erasers, their mechanical pencils, they don't have pencils, their sharpeners, what should they do with their textbooks, where's the library, what time is recess, what does the 'T' stand for in their schedule, can they have a second/third/didn't-get-their-first copy of the schedule. I know it's just their age, and how they are, but really, I don't care what they do with their pencils (other than stab each other. I get in trouble for that). And it's not just my class; my lovely Austrian colleague had the same types of trouble as I did.

Generally though, my 22 little darlings are pretty well-behaved, especially considering it was the first day. My plan is to slowly break them, until they conform to everything I say. It's like being a cult leader. Red Kool-Aid for everyone.

As for social or new sights: none in the past week. When I said we've been working, I meant it. We have been at the house or the school. That's pretty much it.

It is now time for an amusing story. On Sunday, Andrew and I went to the school to do some final photocopying etc. He went to his building, and I worked in mine. All the grade 5 classes are on the second floor. The floor consists of an open 'research area':

Off to the sides of this open area are the individual classrooms. To enter or exit the research centre, and therefore your room, outside of normal school hours, you need to swipe your access card; it only opens the doors for your grade-floor. After an afternoon of prep-work, Andrew and I decided it was time to go (each room has its own phone, we were calling each other). I packed up my stuff, and was excited to leave the area, because they turn off the air conditioning on the weekends. My thermostat read 31.9 degrees, and there weren't any fans on or air movement.

I went to swipe my access card to leave, and the sliding glass doors would not open for me. For some reason, my card was not being read by the scanner. I went back into my classroom (which opens with a normal key) and called Andrew to rescue me, as there was no other way out but through these now impenetrable doors. He came, I slide my card to him under the door, but no dice. He went in search of the security guard; of course he did not speak a word of English (and Andrew does not speak Spanish). Despite the communication difficulties, Andrew brought him up to me. Needless to say, his master key did not work. He came and went several times, signaling that he was making phone calls or going to the other campus. We really don't know what he was doing. What we do know is that I was trapped in the stifling room for almost an hour, waiting for this guy to figure something out.

The eventual solution: if you push on the sliding doors, they will swing open (a safety feature that I presume is there in case of power outages). Unsurprisingly, an alarm went off, but by that time we were past caring.

And that is how they keep buildings secure in Mexico...

Sunny Saturday

As promised, here's a rundown of our Saturday. We started the day by sleeping in after our late night on Friday. Once up, the next event on our agenda was a 30 min walk to the Novotel hotel. For $16.50Cdn you get their brunch buffet, and access to their outdoor swimming pool for the day. Although the day started out overcast (which was nice for our walk), it quickly heated up.

The buffet was really good. There was a grill-chef on duty, who asked us (in the requisite broken English) if we wanted "top sirloin or New York;" he slapped the meat right down on the grill, and cooked the steaks for us. There were small cheese-filled tortillas that you emptied skewers of meat and peppers into. Poblano chilies were cut in half, and filled with egg and cheese, then baked. Sausages were wrapped with bacon. There were salads (including a corn and pineapple one -- not as bad as you would think), and a several-gallon-sized bowl of fresh guacamole. The dessert table had (in no particular order): tiramisu, cheesecake, carrot cake, chocolate cake, little walnut rolls drenched in honey, chocolate-dipped strawberries...

Needless to say, we gorged ourselves. After about 4 plates of food, our group wallowed outside into the 40 degree heat. There weren't any shaded lounge chairs left, so we were left to bask in the sun. The wooden planks and concrete around the pool literally burned the soles of our feet. The pool's cool water provided a refreshing break from the scorching sun.

We left the hotel around 6pm. We headed home, and I took a brief nap in preparation of the night to come. We were all going to convene at the Rumba club. I was told that it was a location for drug cartel fights, but we were undeterred (and after seeing this place, I find the rumor hard to believe). The club was huge, the line-up long. In the distance, cavern-sized doors hid the source of the pounding music: all of this from the sidewalk outside. We headed in, and paid the exorbitant cover charge ($5Cdn for girls, $15 for boys) and looked around. Girls in micro-minis and stilettos. Boys in tight shirts, posturing for the girls.

There was a large balcony overlooking the dance floor and sizable stage. The house band sounded like a Spanish rock-hip-hop fusion. The crowd was teeming, and it was only 11pm. It seemed more like a concert venue than a club; the band had a team of three male and two female dancers. They were all very good, doing a mix of hip-hop-ghetto and break dancing. Very high energy. The heat off the dance floor was almost visible.

In this place, you don't line up at the bar for drinks. You make eye-contact and order with a server (for lack of a better term); our beer came delivered in a large bucket filled with ice. Despite the fact that we only ordered drinks for the eight of us, the bucket held about 12. The server was always nearby with his bottle opener to help you the second you pluck a fresh beer from the bucket (each cost $2.50Cdn). All drinks are kept on a tab; for anyone to exit the club, you needed to show a receipt from the server proving that you paid. At one point in the night, samba dancers came onto the stage in full costumes. Some male partners hoisted their female straight above their heads, and held them in this dead-lift for up several minutes while the remaining dancers twirled around the stage. I cannot emphasize enough how overall amazing the club was.

We left around 2:30 (early by Monterrey standards) and ate from a taco stand across the street. We were given a lift home by our mates and, needless to say, slept in on Sunday. Over the course of Cafe Iguana, the Luv Pub, and the Rumba, I think we have seen the spectrum of Monterrey nightlife.

Friday Night Lights

It's been a very social and busy weekend thus far. On Friday, one of our colleagues suggested we all go out for a bite, and then for drinks. She's been here for four months, and lives in Monterrey (as opposed to our area of San Pedro), so we were definitely game.

A winding cab ride took us through the crowded and shabby streets of Monterrey. We met up with everybody at a 7-Eleven. Our leader took us down the broken sidewalks, until we came to a neighborhood taco stand, although it wasn't so much a stand but what could pass for an open narrow garage, with tables and a drink-cooler. On the sidewalk was a large grill, and an up-right rotisserie of red-spiced pork. The workers eagerly rushed us in, and pulled tables together for us. The fuzzy TV mounted in the corner was playing a soccer game.

Their tacos came in two sizes of flour tortillas: 9 inch and 4 inch. I ordered the 9 inch, with both types of meat on it -- the pork, and ground beef. They brought a plate of sizzling onions and potato chunks to the table for all to share, and then my taco came out. It was huge. I garnished it with the onions, squirts of lime juice from the wedges on the table, and blob of some kind of sauce that came in old mustard bottles. The sauce was so hot that it temporarily numbed my tongue. The size of the taco made it very awkward to handle, and was delicious. We really enjoyed this place, because it finally felt like we were eating 'authentic' Mexican food. The nearest food to our house is mall food, and San Pedro definitely is not the 'real' world.

After we were satiated, we headed to the Luv Pub for drinks. It's located near a university, apparently one of the most expensive in Latin America. We entered the door, and down the dark narrow stairs; loud music spilled out into the streets. This place was a throw-back to the 70's. One raised area of the pub was carpeted, with no chairs; patrons lounged on the floor with pillows and footstools that acted as tables. Couches clustered in another area. We were guided to some floor, and we ordered drinks. A normal bottle of beer went for $2.50 Cdn. The ceiling was stapled with notes and messages that people had written. It was pretty neat, albeit dingy.

From there, we walked to our colleague's home stopping on route at a convenience store for some refreshments ($4.25 for a 4-pack). She lived in a prominently student-housing area; people had taken their kitchen chairs outside onto the sidewalks that ran between the road-less domiciles. There were guitars and singing; we just enjoyed the evening and some Beatles.

Heading to the nearest Starbucks to hail a cab, we saw our first prostitutes; the two of them looked pretty mean, and could definitely give any from Winnipeg's West End a run for their money. A cop car was talking to them as we passed by. We waved the first cab that came by, managed to articulate where we wanted to go, and tumbled into bed at the early hour of 3am.

Our Saturday adventures will comprise the next post....

Things Mexicans Seem to Like...

• Live-in help
  
• Speed bumps
• 7-Elevens (and their coffee)
• Huge malls
• Food courts in their malls
• Live concerts in their malls
• Tile floors
• Wearing shoes in their homes
• Push-up bras (women only, from what we've seen)
• Ceiling fans
• Traffic circles
  
• Highways
• High fences (topped with spikes, of course)
• Driving cars
• Bottled water (good luck finding a water fountain)
  
• Tacos (seriously, they eat them for every meal)
• Building houses on steep slopes
• Gated communities

Where the Reptiles Party

We were somewhere around Monterrey, on the edge of the desert, when the cab dropped us off outside a 7/11 that looked more like the gaping maw of a second-rate casino than the honest hovel of a indigenous tacito vendor. We waited in the parking lot as garrish, sweaty humanity sprawled and teemed around us. This was the hub of something large, rich and ready to party.

The other Canadian couple met us at about 11:30 p.m., the night is still infant in downtown Monterrey. We then proceeded down a road that can only be described as human cornucopia. Cars eased gingerly along one cramped lane like gondolas floating down a sea of people. Cigarette vendors carried trays of goods only procured behind locked cabinets in Canada, bouncers pulled double duty as flyer distributors, and still we walked deeper. After several hundred meters and tap-dancing tipsily on cobblestone, we arrived at the neon lights of Cafe Iguana. There was no line, and seemingly no possibility of one, as people continued to pour into the place.

The Cafe itself did not sell coffee; nor does its name do any justice to the maze of rooms, back stairwells, and alleys that perhaps could only be traversed by some type of lizard creature. As I walked toward the bar, the sonic boom of the base reverberated and slowed my step as if I was slogging through water. I ordered a beer, and received 1.2 litre jug; I've come the right I place, I thought.

The music was loud; violently loud when contrasted with the placid images of a crucified Christ and Buddha keeping watch over the shelves of vodka and rum. And time slipped away as we talked, sat, met and laughed. All was good and right with the world; Mexicans know how to party. No quiet wood paneled pub and pint of pilsener for them; no, we were in the thick of a mad, frenetic party that was only getting started when we slipped into a cab well after 2 a.m.

vaya le bien!

Terminator: Salvation

On Sunday we were invited out to see the new Terminator movie. This worked well, as we had planned to see it that day and at that particular theatre anyway. We cooked up some eggs and bacon for breakfast, checked our map that Andrew had bought, and headed out to the mall. This is a different mall than the one we've been to. It's more high-end, and has a Walmart beside it (we had to make a return). We left, as usual, around noon, and nearly succumbed to the 40 degree heat.

(As an aside: when the Mexican teachers hear that our walking jaunts generally take place in the early afternoon, they just shake their heads at us. They say that nobody is dumb enough to go outside then, not even their dogs.)

The walk only took about 40 minutes, and after arriving and draining our water bottle, we learned that Mexico doesn't supply water fountains in their malls.

But now the important thing: the movie theatre. This theatre is similar to the normal SilverCity theatres except for one very important difference: it has a VIP theatre. I will explain what this means by taking you through the experience.

We walked through the main, loud, crowded theatre to a hallway. Down the carpeted hallway, the noise disappeared as we approached what looked like a hotel lobby and desk. At the desk, we purchased our tickets ($10 Canadian each), and picked our seats off of flat screen monitor. The lobby area had leather couches and phones. The concessions sold popcorn and candy, in addition to sandwiches and sushi. You can order your food to be delivered to your assigned seat once the movie begins. An usher guides you to your black leather recliner, complete with cup holder in the armrest. Little tables are nested in between pairs of chairs.

No crowds. No talking during the film. No loud children. No sticky floors. Lots of leg room.

I have found heaven, and it only costs 100 pesos...

Cafe Iguana

So we discovered Monterrey nightlife. Saturday night we took a cab to 7-Eleven to meet our friend. When we pulled up to the store, we were surprised with the scene: the parking lot was full, and at least 30 people were milling about. They were all dressed in club clothes, and were either loitering or passing through on their way to the bars.

When our companions arrived, we took off on foot up the street. The foot traffic was so tight that it spilled off the sidewalks, stalling all vehicular traffic on the road. Girls in micro-minis and 3-inch-plus heels tottered up the cobblestone road. Music poured out of every doorway. It was only 11pm.

We arrived at our destination, Cafe Iguana. The music was ear-splitting. Andrew and I are unsure how people are supposed to converse, but they all seemed to manage. The club was extremely dark, with many inter-connected rooms. Murals, stone carvings, and a crucifix decorated the walls. Flat-screen TVs near the ceilings showed music videos corresponding to the pounding rock music. The club also had a large room with laser lights dedicated to techno -- a stone Buddha adorned it's wall. There weren't many places to sit, and beer came in both normal bottles and in 1.2 litre bottles (only $5 Canadian). The 1.2L bottles came in a brown paper bag.

The four of us stood around, enjoying the music, and talking sporadically. The club got very busy around 1am, and people continued to pile in. There was no dancing, just people standing, talking (shouting), and nodding their heads to the music. We left slightly after 2am, mostly because we couldn't take the volume or the smoke (anti-smoking laws don't seem to be enforced).

Even at that time of night, the streets outside were still teeming with people, most of them seeming to be just arriving. Overall, it was an interesting evening, especially in terms of people-watching.

The Sky is Falling, as are people...

Good Evening all,

It has sadly been about one week since my last post, and I have a great list of things to blame: on and off wireless connection, school work, fell asleep on the couch etc. I also blame all of the things I shall soon discuss, as they took time to ummm experience. Nevertheless, I pledge to be more diligent in the future.

On Saturday, the Canadians/Americans (we now have yanks among us) went to Cola de Caballo which I was told was going to be a waterfall. Imagine my absolute elation at the prospect of a waterfall made entirely of Coca Cola, and if it truly had been, nary would be my return. The waterfall, as it turns out, is fed by a natural stream high in the Sierra Madre. The cascading curtain over air and shale is quite a sight , and there was an extended round of picture taking before we proceeded further into the park. At the largest and most majestic part of the waterfall there are some souvenir stands, ice cream, and balconies; there was also a mysterious hole in the chain link fence leading out into an irresistible path running parallel to the waterfall. After informing our school guide that we'd be "just a couple minutes to look at the first few meters or so" we were off. Caroline and Jeremy, perhaps against their better judgment, followed me up a steep, slippery, twisting, and densely littered goat path to the headwaters of the falls. The view was worth the exertion, as I'm sure you'll agree from our soon-to-be-posted pics. We then also realized we could have saved 80 pesos had we entered the park from the somewhat backwoods road on which we were now standing. However, a few minutes and meters had somehow slipped into several hundred meters and the better part of an hour. We returned downhill in some haste to the rest of our friends who had decided that bungee jumping would be more their cup of tea.

Later, standing on a balcony in 35 degree heat, my sweaty palms extending our digicam over a precipice of 60m, I filmed what may have been the last living images of two of our Canadian colleagues as they committed the great elasticized plunge. Thankfully, they did live; I did film it, and I will ask them if I can post the video on this blog for all you morbid folks wondering what a $32 Mexican bungee jump looks like. I enjoyed my free-of-charge excursion and had a wistful nap on the ride home. Oh, to dice the chronology a bit, that morning we had tacos at a traditional highway open air restaurant. The occasion is only noteworthy because of Caroline's daring consumption of a stuffed, angry-looking pepper purchased by our ever-patient driver. I had about half a dozen goat meat tacos and an ice-cold glass bottled coke (hope this hasn't been too much product placement).

Again, I must alter chronology and tell you about the most apocalyptic thunder storm Caroline and I have every witnessed. The sky was muggy, hot, and heavy all day. The air was tense with.........heat. About two hours after arriving home for the evening, the rain started to come down innocently enough; masquerading as the light pattering nature intended for delicate flower petals and song birds to drink from. Then came Thor. The sky opened, and the cast iron clouds took vengeance upon the relentlessly blistering sun. The mountains were lit up in the dusk by massive purple lightning bolts (and that is not blogger's license; the bolts were purple!). The thunder reverberated and lightning struck at the same time; the rain drove down in torrents; the canals were filled to bursting; the foundations of the houses began to shake; and Caroline suggested we take a stroll to investigate further (just a few minutes, just a few meters). We ended up using the shelter of the trees to make our way to the neighborhood park in some dryness. There we sat under a gazebo and watched the book of nature wax hyperbolic upon the landscape, which is to say, we watched the storm in all its violent grandeur. A very exciting evening for a Thursday, but I hope these don't happen too often.

I would like to say a bit on our night at the infamous Cafe Iguana, but I think I'll post this wee tome rather than chance the inconstant wireless connection. Therefore, vaya le bien!

One Week Into It

It's Saturday night, and we're getting ready to go out. Another new teacher that's been here for a few months invited us to a rock bar -- we're meeting her at 11. Why so late? Apparently bars here close at 5 or 6 am...

As with anything, the sheen of our new home is wearing thin (although I'm not really surprised). Some of the rules at the school, our accommodations, etc are showing problems that were not evident at first. For example, everyone is so quaintly 'laid back' here that service requests for the house take often more than three weeks to fill out (or so we're told, and our current experience is definitely supporting this claim). The previous tenet in our house jammed the printer impossibly with paper. Our shower only has tepid water. And so forth. Another interesting aspect that I'm not looking forward to is we get observed multiple times over the year, and not just by one person. Our supervisor, their supervisor, all the other grade 5 teachers....TEN people in all would be observing in one go. Then they all sit around a table and discuss the 'warm' and 'cool' observations (hooray for euphemism!) in front of me, while I'm not allowed to reply. Of course I'll get to do the same to my 'colleagues,' but still it's intense.

They haven't given us very much information about teaching, or what they specifically want, or lesson plans yet. They don't seem to know themselves. They do, however, have very clear ideas on the image of the school, and how we should interact with the parents.

Everyone is very nice and friendly. Not surprisingly, all of us English-imported teachers have banded together during this orientation week. It's getting kind of tiring every time a 'helpful' Spanish speaker jabbers away at us in Spanish, with the idea that it will somehow help us learn the language. Our Spanish lessons don't start for a few more weeks, and I can't wait because it will garner us some more independence to get around on our own.

As promised by Andrew, here are the pictures from Chimpique Park. First up: the butterfly enclosure (the person in blue is one of our delightful colleagues:



The white thing has sugar in it for the butterflies.



A snap of one in flight:



And a video of some in flight:



Some views from a lookout point. These pics were taken mid-morning, and you can see that the smog hadn't yet burned off from the city. As Andrew noted, Monterrey sort of sits in the bowl of mountains, and note that there are green trees right up to the summits. We were told that the peaks don't receive snow, even in the winter.



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