I read Cassie's comments several times and I felt I received a history lesson. It is so well written and so sympathetic to the cause and yet so opposite from the way I think. If the Latinas who moved to Arizona were treated the same way I was treated when I first arrived, they would feel at home and would return to Mexico just to see old friends and relatives.
I told earlier about a trip Sam and I took to Mexico. On a train. The train left San Francisco and went to El Paso via Los Angeles. We had tiny bedrooms but ate food that was like food from the best San Francisco restaurants. Our American crew left the train when we crossed into Mexico at El Paso. The chef remained on board but he was a tourist like the rest of us. I wish I knew how to find were I discussed this trip. I think I will google Copper Canyon and see what happens. See you later.
Tried it , but found nothing about our trip. There were thirty to forty passengers on the train. Our cars were attached to the Mexican locomotives and sometimes we had to sit and wait for what seemed hours for a train to come to haul us to our next destination. When we came to big cities the train would wait for us at the station so we could check into a hotel to do our bathing and shampooing. And our sight-seeing. I think we stayed in Mexico City for five days. After that stop we headed for Mayan Country were we saw the pyramids. And we also got to see how the people lived there. Our guide took us to his home and showed how all members of his family slept in 'hangmattor' (sometimes I search in every nook and cranny in my brain for the right word in english and in this case it has taken over 24 hours and it refuses to turn up.) If I had a pencil I could have shown you what I mean.
When we waited for a long time to get going I would sit on the steps of our carriage and soon a child would arrive, curious about a rain stopping just there. I would do a quick drawing of the beautiful face, tear off the drawing to give the child, and as soon as he or she scampered off, there would be ten more waiting. If there was any pushing, or getting out of line, one of our porters would quietly restore order. By the time our train left that spot, there would be hundreds of faces waiting and two hundreds of big black eyes looking disappointed. What beautiful people they were.