My friends just had one thing to say to me when I told them I would be spending the
             spring break of my freshmen year in Mexico with my youth ministry group. Some would ask what exactly I was planning to do while others would ask why, but the advice was always the same. Instead of all the cultural or economic information that we could have exchanged, they simply warned me about the water.
             I arrived in Ensenada, Mexico with only a vague idea of what I was really getting into.
             The cultural orientation was soon over. The sombreros were purchased, and we were on
             our way to our village. Our Village could have easily been named for the nearly unbearable daily high temperatures, but the heat was only one of our early surprises. As we spent the time together in the village, many things became apparent. One aspect that could not be ignored was the heavy poverty of the villagers. We were expecting lower living standards, but nothing compared to what we encountered. They lived in one or two room shacks that were generously called houses. The roofs of tin kept the rain out the majority of the time. A fierce storm came through on our third day and left three houses topless. The outhouses were constructed of even more flimsy materials such as rusty old metal and cardboard. Nobody in town owned a television. It would have done them little good as the electricity was only turned on for about two hours a night. Less than half of the households had cars, leaving buses as the only means of transportation to the markets far out of town. The only school in the village offered classes up to sixth grade but many of the boys never made it that far, and few of the students went much beyond that because of the difficulty of getting to school without a suitable mean of transportation. Little Newspapers and magazines, or even regular mail for that matter, were delivered. The only news came from two houses that had large antennae for receiv...