Mexico was adventure travel. Mexico is right next door. What more could you ask for!?: My Mexico map was often misleading.

THE AUTHOR:
I was a single US male MD psychiatrist who lived, or tried to live, in a six-thousand-population town in central Mexico.

SYNOPSIS of MEXICO SPIRITUALISM VERSUS A GRINGO:
I was accused of being a brujo: a male witch. Aztec religion and Catholicism were integrated in the xenophobic isolated town. In Exodus 22:18 of The Bible, God commanded Moses to tell his people, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Because I was single and liked women, my so-called electrical touch usually involved females. My photographs of Maria were said to make me the father of Maria’s baby girl. Other people accused me of being a US DEA undercover agent, when perhaps marijuana was important to the economy. The police supported the local economy and pursued information about my contact with women. Putting me in a distant state prison for touching a woman was one of their solutions to get me out of town. But I was stubborn. I also had some police friends, including Mexican Policewoman Itzel.

SECOND PART OF BOOK:
title - All is Fair in Love and War
After two years, I relocated to Nuevo Casas Grandes, which was only 150 miles from the US border. Undercover policemen tried to deal me drugs. Because I wasn’t into drugs, I was assumed to be against drugs. I was jailed for smiling at a woman as we passed in the park. When I tried to enter the US, I nearly got arrested my US Immigration. I fled back to Mexico. The US thought I was a drug smuggler and so the US was out to get me. Mexico thought I was a womanizing DEA agent, and so Mexico was against me.
A Mexico rule: A gringo can have no contact with Mexican women. I didn’t agree with this. I had a Mexican girlfriend.

A SHORT PART OF THE BOOK
The Nuevo Casas Grandes Mormons and Mennonites were Mexican citizens; but they and I were similarly shunned by most Mexicans. In addition to being seen with the “white” Mennonites and Mormons, the Mexican police had repeatedly seen a beautiful young Tarahumara Indian woman and I associating. One day I was walking in downtown with forty-two-year-old fat and homely Eva, who had a great personality. While Eva and I passed the young Tarahumara Indian woman, I said Hi; and the Tarahumara woman’s reaction showed an emotional connection between us. Eva frowned and said to me, “The Tarahumara only bathe once a year.“ This was perhaps an exaggeration.
I said, “When I lived with the Tarahumara Indians, I didn’t bathe much.”

Contents
7 percent Mexico narrative poetry