When wrong is right

So how did I end up down here in the land of the brave and the home of the beans? As like all things in life, it’s a long story so let’s stick to the highlights… Met the misses in the States, moved to Mexico to court her, married her, back to the States, lived on the right coast, then the left, wanted extended family close, found a telecommuting job with a cool boss, moved to Mexico, and loved it -- strike that, loving it.

One of the surprises has been the polar views folks in the States have about living here. One conference on, let’s call it Pi, in the course of 30 minutes I had the expected “So you have a team there… do they show up on time and work hard?” to the other extreme of “Awesome, I’d love to do that.” followed by an intellectual remark not at all bigoted.

During a trip to the Lone Star state I caught a silly show on the tube. Not what I would be proud to admit watching, but a show about catching people on camera reacting to different situations. This time, it was all hyped up about these poor “Mexicans” who couldn’t order food at a restaurant. The punch line? The majority of people who came into the experiment supported the actors playing Mexicans who couldn’t speak English.

Once you get past the vocals who love to speak out about all those political causes, and while living here you might guess my views, this isn’t what my blog is about. It’s about what is great about living here on the “wrong” side of the border.

For me and my family, living here is very right.