Mexican Breeze at Mount San Miguel

After the sorrowful mysteries comes the glorious mysteries and there I was on the trails with my ejaculations. "Mother and San, mountains of Saint Michael, pray for us!" The best day to hike is on Sundays. Ejaculations add meaning to bagging peaks and holy summits.

Chula Vista means beautiful view in English. Mother Miguel and San Miguel are two mountains in Chula Vista, a San Diego county city located 7 miles north of the Mexican border.

Dios Mio! What a Chula Vista! Oh my gut. What does it mean? My Stendhal Syndrome is real. They are not faked ejaculations. I am referring to very short sporadic prayers of course. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What's on your mind?

Oh, Mexico! It sounds so sweet with the sun sinking low. Moon's so bright to light up the night to make everything alright.There's the communion song on my mind. El candor pasa!

I have always considered Mexico as part of North America in the context of NAFTA. I have always believed that Native Americans who Christopher Columbus thought were Indians were originally peasants from the southern part of the continental North America. They are the Indios, the indigenous people of North Amrica. Christopher Columbus was either drunk, recovering from bouts of motion sickness from too much navigating or got lost in translation to refer to the original American residents as Indians rather than Indios.

A sole left behind is transnational migration crying for enforcement of trade agreements and more humane cross border passage. Hidden in those bushes are clothing discarded by transnational migrants from Baja California as they fled from US border patrol. If they get caught they will be deported back to Mexico. If they are lucky, they become day laborers.

America beckoned and it still does. Mother of Exiles, pray for us who have recourse to thee! From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door." Thank heavens for Emma Lazarus!

Some days, hikers would have looked like they came all the way from more than seven miles south of the mountain trails. To a group of hikers, getting the attention of a local residents to call the border patrol is an interesting tale to tell.

O beautiful for spacious skies. For amber waves of grain. For purple mountain majesties. Above the fruited plain. Seriously, I still get misty every time I hear the song. I hear it in my mind all the time. Singing the land of the morning in my childhood never mixed my emotions. Even if I just got plucked by sheer luck, I am finally home.

I jumped to the cue of Mar-I, the Asian organizer who I can tell originates from the Philippines. Later at the Eastlake Tavern, she suggested that we take photos of our food in lieu of saying grace before meals. I jumped for Xing who used to be a chemist from Beijing. I jumped with Juicy behind me whose ancestors come from a Mexican city further south of the U.S border where people are calm and friendly and didn't have to deal with being labelled as Mexican stand-off stereotypes. I jumped for Asim from Pakistan who blended into the group just like a spice adding flavor to recipe. I jumped with everyone in the group who are just as awed by the Mexican breeze at the summit of Mount San Miguel.