Besides the unique perspective, which is compelling for native Mexicans and Americans, there are plenty of vivid photographs and illustrations.  The parallel-page bilingual format makes this book an ideal tool for students wanting to strengthen one or the other of their second languages.  Sentences are structured in paragraph format, which adds context to the use of the language.  This is not a phrase book.  The translation covers common descriptive language and idiomatic expressions used in conversational discussion.

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Las celebraciones en casa eran sencillas, sin mucho alboroto, pero tenían significado, porque nos dábamos el tiempo para estar todos allí, a pesar de todo, y mi mamá se esmeraba en preparar delicias, como su famoso bacalao a la Veracruzana.  Por manos de algún familiar que llegaba de visita, recibíamos con agrado el envío de un paquete con tamales de Río Grande, el pueblo donde nació mi papá. Aquellos tamales eran únicos; delgaditos, con la masa densa, y sabor a comino. ¡Quién no iba a recordar con nostalgia el aroma del ponche hirviéndo despacito sobre la estufa, o de los tamales, más sabrosos cuando se recalentaban sobre el comal de las tortillas y se les tostaban las hojas! ¡A quién no le daría gusto recordar el sabor tan dulce de un jugoso pedazo de caña de azúcar, el olor de los tejocotes, el crujiente sonido de los cacahuates!

Ahora vivo en una región donde el invierno toma dimensiones que para mí eran  desconocidas. La  blancura de la nieve, los trineos, los pinos, los venados; todas aquellas cosas que yo únicamente había visto en las fotografías de algún libro, o tal vez en una película, ahora se convertían en objetos cotidianos. Era como si las páginas del libro se hicieran realidad ante mis ojos, una y otra vez.

Pero los días tan cortos, la efímera luz del sol y las largas noches de invierno, pronto me hicieron extrañar todo aquello que una vez formara parte de mi juventud y que para mí representaba una época de esperanza, de buenos momentos compartidos con la familia, de aquellos andares por las calles del centro, repletas de gente.

El tiempo pasa, los recuerdos palidecen, y se van formando otros. Sigo extrañando, pero con menos nostalgia. Hemos tenido la oportunidad en años recientes mi esposo, mis hijos y yo, de ir a Aguascalientes en época de Navidad. Ahora ellos también tienen en su memoria un pedacito de mis recuerdos. Ahora ellos también han visto las plantas de Nochebuena que florean en Diciembre en el jardín de su abuelita, y han jugado a brincar la cuerda con sus primos. Ahora hemos caminado juntos por las calles del centro…

My church supported the brother that lived in Spain.  I had traveled with him to Spain and Morocco in 1991.  We visited all the main cities in Morocco, including Tangier, Fez, Rabat, Casablanca, and Marrakech.  In 1995, I was invited to return with this brother to Spain to see how the mission work was progressing.  There were 15 people there from his brother’s church in Mexico, one of them was my wife-to-be.

Ten years later, almost to the day, we were able to return to Algeciras, Spain along with a group from our church that did ministry in local churches, on the streets, and on the beaches.  We traveled to Gibraltar, Granada, Malaga, Seville, Algeciras, Tarifa, and finally, Madrid.  It was late June, early July, and it was hot.  Early afternoon in old-town Seville felt like 135º F.

In Granada, we were cooled down with a misting device that sprayed us from small pipes over our heads that made us feel like produce in our local grocery store, but it was welcomed relief from the heat.  We started our tour of the Alhambra in the early evening, but it was still way way above 100º F.

We visited the small town of Antequera, and ministered in a theater there.  We stayed some of the time in the garage of a pastor we met on this trip.  We showed up, and he let us in.  We also stayed in a hostel in San Roque, which gave us a nice view of Gibraltar from our rooftop.

Our group was allowed to minister in the old part of Torremolinos at a open-air festival that a council of churches there had worked for at least a year to get permission to have “church” songs and skits in the open square.  That went on for three days and was one highlight of the trip.  We worked with another local church near the beach in Malaga, and did some open-air worship songs and skits. 

In Estepona, we worked with yet another church and went out on the board walk two nights in a row with our team.  In Madrid, near the Puerta del Sol, center of the city, we assisted a local evangelical group as they went into the square and held open-air meetings.

On this trip, we left the car at the hotel and took the taxi to the downtown area.  Two reasons for this.  One is the labyrinth of streets and tunnels, many which are one way, can put you way out-of-bounds before you know it.  The other is the lack of parking.  All of the narrow streets are constantly filled with parked cars.  There is parking in the tunnels, but you have to know where to go and where to come up for that to work.

Taking a taxi from our hotel was the right decision.  $4.00 (US equivalent) included tip, one way, and we were there.

Our main goal was to see the Alhóndiga near the middle of town.  The history of the building is that is quartered Spanish soldiers when the first wave of the Mexican Independence came through.  Tens of thousands of Mexicans, mostly Indians, moving along with Miguel Hidalgo, stormed the building and subdued (putting it nicely) the soldiers.

Later, when Hidalgo was captured, his head, and three others were placed on the four corners of the top of the building and remained there until Mexico secured its independence some 10 or 11 years later.  Gastly.

The city is magnificient in beauty.  Colorful buildings.  Spanish Colonial architechture.  More architecture from the 1800s.  Restaurants, museums, shops, etc.  The city is nestled in a valley.  From any of the surrounding mountain tops one can view the entire city.  Over the top of one of the mountains is Dolores Hidalgo, the city where Miguel Hidalgo had his perish for many years prior to the Independence.   How did they cross that mountain on foot?