I was born and raised in a small town in Connecticut, right on the New York State border. When I was ten, my mother, being originally from Valencia, Spain, decided it was time that my brother and I should learn to speak Spanish—and Mexico is a lot closer than Spain. So, off we went on the adventure of a lifetime. We were put in school without being able to speak even one complete sentence in Spanish! We knew words, but not enough to sustain a conversation. By 1966 we had both became fluent in Spanish, but, even more rewarding, were experiencing the culture and history. I met my future husband in the apartment next door! Yes, my friend had a very handsome older brother—although we didn’t become attached until much later, when I went back for a visit in the seventies.