Somehow with all the activities going on Christmas Eve we never made it to mass that evening. When this happens I always have to hope that God knows what is in my heart, and that with the number of churches I have visited since being in Mexico maybe I have some credit built up.
To be serious for a moment though I have always felt my faith strengthened by being here. Maybe because it is such a part of everyday life from the tolling of the church bells to the image of Christ emblazoned on the #604 bus I ride each day. Then it could be fact that almost everyday there is the opportunity to stop in at church, maybe only for 5 minutes, but time enough to stop, reflect, think about who and what is important to me and to relax. Even if its only 5 minutes I feel that a weight has been lifted. Most days I stop in at the church across the plaza from my school. It is a great big, gothic piece of work and hosted many televised, musical events during the Christmas season.
On a Sunday afternoon shortly before moving to Mexico I had stopped at St Cecelia’s’ Cathedral in Omaha and happened upon a concert being performed on their pipe organ. What a moving experience. For almost 2 hours I was mesmerized and moved never realizing how quickly time was passing. A good friend of mine with a wonderful singing voice stated that there is nothing better than to hear a concert in a church. She couldn’t be any more correct. Since moving to Guadalajara I have enjoyed numerous concerts performed in the churches here. A concert of ancient sacred music performed on traditional instruments and sung in ancient dialects. One day we came across a wedding ceremony where the singers were of professional operatic caliber.
In Guadalajara there seems to be a church every 100 feet. This may be a bit of an exaggeration but one evening while killing time before another event we went walking through Guadalajara Centro and visited 5 churches in a very short time. We would have visited another one but the poor little Presbyterian Church was closed to the public. The Presbyterian Church is tiny when compared to the great Catholic edifices that dot the city and it could seriously fit in any of then with plenty of room to spare.
Most of the churches will have placards outside briefly telling their story, and each one has a fascinating history all its own. My thinking was that each church represented a parish, but being so close together I couldn’t see how this would be possible. In their original time the chapels may have been closed to the public, only serving the members of the orders they represented.
In Guadalajara the two Franciscan Churches that are now separated by a major street were for the public, one for the upper class to attend, the second being for the lower classes. On a visit there we saw a Franciscan Brother in his traditional brown robe tied with the white cord.
The former Carmelite Convent here had a particularly violent past and like the Franciscan property is now divided by a major street. Only a small chapel remains from the original church and the rest of the facility is a cultural center across the street.
The Mexican Constitution of 1917 enacted many laws to control the powers of the church, church property was seized by the government and missions, convents and schools were closed. In the late 1920’s the Catholics rose up against then president Calles, a strident atheist in what is known as the Cristero War. Many churches were burned or destroyed. Last summer on a road trip to visit the historical towns of the Mexican Revolution, we stopped in Querétaro at the Carmelite convent. The chapel located there had been rebuilt after the Cristeros but included windows looking in on the original walls when the covent was burned in the 20’s(see photo on your right). In Guadalajara a series of government buildings on the main plaza which were part of another convent seized by the government still include the convents’ chapel.
Back to our road trip and the churches we visited. In the City of Querétaro we saw the Mission where Father Junípero Serra was originally stationed before he went on to found twenty some missions stretching from the interior of Mexico up through California. A few years back I was able to visit the Mission at Carmel California where he was buried. It was humbling to see where he had started and all he had accomplished between Querétaro and Carmel. Querétaro is full of historical sites but the must see one is the original aqueduct that brought water from the mountains to the mission. Also in Querétaro there is a convent that is cloistered, closed to the public. We did or best to peak in the giant keyhole of the door to the chapel but were unable to see anything. And to walk the perimeter of the immense property would have taken us more time then we had. It was truly an erie place to encounter.
Before we had reached Querétaro that day we had stopped in Celaya and visited the Franciscan Mission where the chapel contained the bones of a priest who had been burned at the stake after being accused of witchcraft.
Further along our journey that day was the church at Dolores Hidalgo where the bells were rang the night of September 16th, 1810, and the priest Miguel Hidalgo called the people to start the Mexican War for Independence.
Like I said the churches all seem to have a story to share, they are more than a places to worship but places that have been key to the history of the country. While most of the churches I have talked about can be described as grand my favorite one to attend mass at is located in the country, in the canyon area. It is a small, simple chapel out in the countryside, it never was completely built and you can climb the steep, narrow, circular steps up to the roof where the bell towers should have been. Mass there seems to be simple and uncomplicated with a true spirit in the air. Vendors set up outside the church selling, meat, vegetables, ice cream and beer. Folks mill about before and after, enjoying small talk and time just seems to be suspended and you live in the moment.
There have been many, many other churches that I have visited while being in Mexico, some have been forgotten while others deserve a story of their own, but each one has brought me a moment of reflection and a feeling of peace.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Cocktail Food
A few Fridays ago I was at a cocktail party intended for the press here in Guadalajara to present to them a new resort that is opening in Puerto Vallarta. The Sunset Plaza Beach Resort and Spa.
The evening started around 7:3 pm with drinks and here is where I have to compliment the manager. As soon as it came to his attention that I was from the States, spoke very little Spanish and my friends were tied up with business he took me under his wing explaining everything to me and I enjoyed excellent service from both him and the staff that entire evening.
At around 9pm they gave the presentation on the resort and immediately following this the staff started to circulate with passed appetizers. My background is in food and in previous postings I have talked about the freshness of the food here in Mexico, street vendors and my Mexican weight loss plan. This event though blew me away with the creativity and quality of the food that was served, the more so being that the hors’ devours were passed and some were selections I would never have considered, like the chicken and mushroom soup.
Served in a teeny, tiny demitasse cup the broth was hot and tasty with succulent chicken and a little mushroom, served whole. This being a cocktail party and more of a business event most people were standing with drinks in their hands but somehow the idea of eating soup worked with no problems.
Pure white, miniature soft tortilla shells folded over a paper thin dried pepper that would just dissolve on your tongue. As with everything served that night nothing came out of a box and the tortillas were freshly made.
They had a most unique way to serve the bean dip. Flat bottom ceramic spoons were being passed from trays and each spoon had a layer of refried beans, topped with a spicy mango salsa and a tortilla chip planted like a flag in the middle of each spoon. People would take a bite of their chip and then eat the dip and salsa right off the spoon.
Hand made puff pastries were filled with savory cream cheese and garnished with a sliver of walnut and a blade of lemon grass. These were just the right size to pop whole into your mouth. I learned a couple of years ago after hosting an event that anything flakey must be small enough to eat whole or the ladies will have puff pastry flakes littering their lipstick.
And who would ever have thought to serve lamb shanks at a cocktail party??? Thinly sliced with a mint glaze and served hot it was kind of funny to see folks standing around chewing on the bones but like the soup, it worked.
A cold seafood salad was served in ceramic ramekins and dessert if you will was fruit and cheese presented like a crab Rangoon.
Such creativity and such quality almost makes me want to get back in the business but it’s really nice being the one served for a change.
The evening started around 7:3 pm with drinks and here is where I have to compliment the manager. As soon as it came to his attention that I was from the States, spoke very little Spanish and my friends were tied up with business he took me under his wing explaining everything to me and I enjoyed excellent service from both him and the staff that entire evening.
At around 9pm they gave the presentation on the resort and immediately following this the staff started to circulate with passed appetizers. My background is in food and in previous postings I have talked about the freshness of the food here in Mexico, street vendors and my Mexican weight loss plan. This event though blew me away with the creativity and quality of the food that was served, the more so being that the hors’ devours were passed and some were selections I would never have considered, like the chicken and mushroom soup.
Served in a teeny, tiny demitasse cup the broth was hot and tasty with succulent chicken and a little mushroom, served whole. This being a cocktail party and more of a business event most people were standing with drinks in their hands but somehow the idea of eating soup worked with no problems.
Pure white, miniature soft tortilla shells folded over a paper thin dried pepper that would just dissolve on your tongue. As with everything served that night nothing came out of a box and the tortillas were freshly made.
They had a most unique way to serve the bean dip. Flat bottom ceramic spoons were being passed from trays and each spoon had a layer of refried beans, topped with a spicy mango salsa and a tortilla chip planted like a flag in the middle of each spoon. People would take a bite of their chip and then eat the dip and salsa right off the spoon.
Hand made puff pastries were filled with savory cream cheese and garnished with a sliver of walnut and a blade of lemon grass. These were just the right size to pop whole into your mouth. I learned a couple of years ago after hosting an event that anything flakey must be small enough to eat whole or the ladies will have puff pastry flakes littering their lipstick.
And who would ever have thought to serve lamb shanks at a cocktail party??? Thinly sliced with a mint glaze and served hot it was kind of funny to see folks standing around chewing on the bones but like the soup, it worked.
A cold seafood salad was served in ceramic ramekins and dessert if you will was fruit and cheese presented like a crab Rangoon.
Such creativity and such quality almost makes me want to get back in the business but it’s really nice being the one served for a change.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Sense of Place Part III
Small Town Life
Posted from San Diego de Alejandria
It’s a Saturday morning and I am enjoying the sun on the roof top terrace having my coffee and listening to the sounds of the town around me. It has been unusually chilly and the warmth of the sun is so welcome, but I still have a light weight sweater on. Listening to the braying of the donkey on the next block, the chickens in the yard across the street, the music from the band practicing a couple of doors down, the birds above and the traffic on the street below I have to say that living in Mexico is anything but quiet. Of course Guadalajara with its population and traffic has an abundance of noise and activity; but even in a small town there is certain amount of what I would call commotion.
If your still in bed around 7:45a you will hear the propane man coming down the street with his siren sounding every few moments letting you know that he is on your block. If you need propane just go outside and flag him down. Some mornings it’s not propane you need but electricity or maybe even water. The town has both but every once in awhile there is a morning when the electricity is off or maybe at just half power with the light bulbs glowing dimly. The first time I encountered a brown out I was trying to shave and my thoughts were “where does one buy 3 watt bulbs?” On a recent visit to San Diego the towns’ water pump was not working and the tanks on the roof were empty. At least my shower was only a dribble while another member of the family was all lathered up when the tanks ran dry. But you plan for these events and hook pumps up and run hoses and pretty soon you have water again. And the electricity only seems to go out in the morning and it always comes back on so you just don’t get too excited.
Rare inconveniences like these aside, the town is very self contained and offers all the basic needs a person really requires to go about their life. After first moving to Mexico I was surprised to find that most people work a six day week with Sunday being their only day off. Also another surprise was that instead of shutting down for the weekend many businesses appear to do most of their trade on the weekends along with those that only operate on the weekends. Many of these weekend businesses are food related with the women opening up little restaurants located in the storefronts of their houses, or maybe it’s a coal fired grill on the sidewalk where they sell chicken Saturday and Sundays. One of the best weekend restaurants to visit serves the absolute tastiest gorditas. Little purses of fried dough filled with meat, potatoes, cabbage and cream. I think maybe they are the tastiest because she fries them in animal fat and not vegetable oil.
The number of businesses in a town this size really does astound me. San Diego de Alejandria has a population of 6,181 residents making it about the same size as Crete, Nebraska and slightly larger than Glenwood, Iowa.
The house I stay at was under construction my first five months in Mexico and aside from some specialty items everything you would need to build a home is available in town. There are construction workers to put the house together, carpenters for your cabinets, metal workers for your doors and windows, and two glass shops for the widow panes. There are hardware stores, building supply businesses, furniture and appliance dealers. Need bricks for construction just ride your bike to the edge of town and tell them how many to deliver, they seem to make bricks everyday and even though they are located on the edge of town the smell of the baking bricks still hangs in the air occasionally.
As many people know I drove here last May in my 1991 Ford Bronco. It made the trip with only one incidence, a plugged fuel filter and burned out gas pump. Since then it has been running like a dream and is on its way to the mechanic for a complete overhaul. After the mechanicals all get as close to new as possible it will go to the body shop for some cosmetic surgery and a new coat of paint. Not sure if it will stay red and tan or change to black and tan but whichever it ends up being should go well with the new natural cow hide interior the upholsterer is going to install. Thing is you can shop around to have the work done in town from all the mechanics, body shops and audios shops. Of course there is a gas station, a tow service, auto parts store, couple of tire repairs and a car wash where you can get it detailed for 40 pesos ($3.33).
Food is plentiful along with the choices of where to shop. Now it’s not like going to Wal-Mart or the supermarket and buying everything in one place. You have to choose which butcher to get your meat from and which tortilla maker to buy your tortillas from. And while every block seems to have at least one little shop, if not more they may not have the item you want. All the shops have snack items along with milk and beverages and some have veggies and some have bakery items, you just kind of learn when to go where. But then you can always take advantage of the folks who come into town selling fresh vegetables and fruit out of the back of their truck and announcing their presence over loud speakers mounted to the roof. I have always been a fan of jicama but have never had jicama like what we bought from the back of a truck. This jicama was so moist that the juice just ran out of it when cut. What has to be the best little shop is operated by a grandma who has nothing but a house hold refrigerator stocked with the coldest Coke and beer. Now if she’s not tending the store you just holler back into the house to let her know you are there. Seems like beverages are big business and you have a number of choices on where to buy liquor, and the choices they offer are pretty extensive as long as its beer or tequila. If you're a wine or scotch drinker the choices are pretty slim.
Clothing stores and shoe stores may not have the widest selection but the fashions are up to date and there are choices on where to shop.
Toy stores, gift shops and a jeweler are available if you need something for a special time. And if you need a place to rent for your special event you have your choice of venues.
Need to purchase a phone or use the internet – there are at least three options and the state is requiring every town to provide wireless internet in the town plaza.
San Diego de Alejandria does lack a local bank but there is an ATM, a money changer and what has been described to me as the unofficial “bank” – that provide folks with loans when needed.
The town has two hotels and a funeral home.
The bus station is always active with buses arrivng at all times during the day. The bus service in Mexico is extensive and living in Guadalajara I have come to appreciate the bus and the subway, but it's not just the big cities that have bus service it's the small towns too, and the funniest site is to see a bus bench on the highway in the middle of nowhere.
I have not needed health care at this point but should an emergency happen there is the ambulance service and for everyday health concerns there are doctors and dentists in town.
These are all the official storefront businesses but there is so much more commerce that goes on in San Diego. Everyone seems to be selling or working at something, there is a robust entrpenurial spirit alive in this country. There are the women who bake breads and sell door to door, women who sew the decorations on the sombreros for the tourist trade, women who take in laundry and those who tailor. The men, who do odd jobs, sell plants or handmade furniture on the street corners. Then the kids who sell candy or fruit they have picked. There is all sorts of unofficial commerce that takes place, there are even women who work the street. On a recent trip to Aguascalientes I remarked at the number of people who were begging. You rarely see this in Guadalajara and there is only one family in San Diego that will ask you for the money, everyone else is busy working for it.
If you are not involved in any of the storefront or non-official businesses that take place in San Diego you can always get a job at one of the factories. Working at the cheese factory was my first choice for a job until I found out they work six days a week, twelve hours a day and are paid $50 a week. Although I still think it would be fun to flail lengths of cheese over my shoulder and across my back to stretch them out not sure if my time is that cheap. The bag factory and the tennis shoe factory pay a bit better but not by much and the hours are the same.
Much of the “entertainment” that happens in town is sponsored by the government, schools or the church. San Diego is the seat of the municipality or what we would call county so a lot of the county events take place here. There is always something going on at the town plaza and you are guaranteed entertainment will be happening Sunday nights. Maybe a demonstration of traditional dance from another state or a mariachi band performing. Either way it’s free or the plaza is crowded. The schools seem to keep the kids occupied with events and the church of which there are three in town plays a huge part in people’s lives. Upon arriving in May I attended a two hour, Thursday evening, outdoor mass which included a procession to various stations set up around the church grounds. The final station was dedicated to blessing the people of South Africa and the athletes of the World Cup. Imagine my surprise to hear Shakira and her World Cup anthem being played for the procession. The priest and everybody were loving it!!!
Speaking of the church, there are many times when the priest is broadcast over loud speakers outside the church during mass and on a Saturday evening the kids are broadcast to the town while singing during their religion classes. The thing I really love are the bells proclaiming the time. How many mornings have I been to lazy to reach for my phone to check the time and I will just lie there waiting for the bells to ring.
There is no theater but there is a video store selling pirated copies of movies and CDs’.
Going out for a bite to eat is easy since there are so many choices available from taco and seafood stands to the chicken restaurant and the local pizza place. Over the last couple of years since I started coming to town it is amazing how many new eating establishments have opened.
And sometimes entertainment is simply sitting out in front of your house and conversing with your neighbors. Saying adois to everyone that passes by.
All this commerce and business and living generate a lot of activity and commotion and makes for a lively environment. People may make comments about their neighbors’ loud music and cruising around town in your car with the music playing is a popular activity – sometimes way late at night – but no one complains or gets too excited. After being in Guadalajara for a few weeks now and the constant barrage of commotion the city throws at you I have an appreciation for the lower volume of commotion available in San Diego.
It would seem that in a previous posting I offended some folks when I made the comment that small towns and the countryside in the U.S. Midwest felt quiet and lifeless to me. No offense was meant but I remember when small town America was self sufficient locally as opposed to regionally. A time when a town of 100 souls still had a gas station, conveinece store, postoffice and even a bar. I would ask that those folks compare what I have shared about San Diego de Alejandria and the amount of activity that occurs there to what goes on in Glenwood, Iowa or Crete, Nebraska. The last time I was in Glenwood it was pretty quiet except for the sound of flies buzzing around my head. And Crete? The last time it came up in conversation no one could say if Waneks of Crete was still in business. My point is simply that San Diego de Alejandria is representative of so many towns in Mexico both smaller and larger, that it is able to meet the daily needs of its residents and offer a place to live that is lively and full of commotion.
Posted from San Diego de Alejandria
It’s a Saturday morning and I am enjoying the sun on the roof top terrace having my coffee and listening to the sounds of the town around me. It has been unusually chilly and the warmth of the sun is so welcome, but I still have a light weight sweater on. Listening to the braying of the donkey on the next block, the chickens in the yard across the street, the music from the band practicing a couple of doors down, the birds above and the traffic on the street below I have to say that living in Mexico is anything but quiet. Of course Guadalajara with its population and traffic has an abundance of noise and activity; but even in a small town there is certain amount of what I would call commotion.
If your still in bed around 7:45a you will hear the propane man coming down the street with his siren sounding every few moments letting you know that he is on your block. If you need propane just go outside and flag him down. Some mornings it’s not propane you need but electricity or maybe even water. The town has both but every once in awhile there is a morning when the electricity is off or maybe at just half power with the light bulbs glowing dimly. The first time I encountered a brown out I was trying to shave and my thoughts were “where does one buy 3 watt bulbs?” On a recent visit to San Diego the towns’ water pump was not working and the tanks on the roof were empty. At least my shower was only a dribble while another member of the family was all lathered up when the tanks ran dry. But you plan for these events and hook pumps up and run hoses and pretty soon you have water again. And the electricity only seems to go out in the morning and it always comes back on so you just don’t get too excited.
Rare inconveniences like these aside, the town is very self contained and offers all the basic needs a person really requires to go about their life. After first moving to Mexico I was surprised to find that most people work a six day week with Sunday being their only day off. Also another surprise was that instead of shutting down for the weekend many businesses appear to do most of their trade on the weekends along with those that only operate on the weekends. Many of these weekend businesses are food related with the women opening up little restaurants located in the storefronts of their houses, or maybe it’s a coal fired grill on the sidewalk where they sell chicken Saturday and Sundays. One of the best weekend restaurants to visit serves the absolute tastiest gorditas. Little purses of fried dough filled with meat, potatoes, cabbage and cream. I think maybe they are the tastiest because she fries them in animal fat and not vegetable oil.
The number of businesses in a town this size really does astound me. San Diego de Alejandria has a population of 6,181 residents making it about the same size as Crete, Nebraska and slightly larger than Glenwood, Iowa.
The house I stay at was under construction my first five months in Mexico and aside from some specialty items everything you would need to build a home is available in town. There are construction workers to put the house together, carpenters for your cabinets, metal workers for your doors and windows, and two glass shops for the widow panes. There are hardware stores, building supply businesses, furniture and appliance dealers. Need bricks for construction just ride your bike to the edge of town and tell them how many to deliver, they seem to make bricks everyday and even though they are located on the edge of town the smell of the baking bricks still hangs in the air occasionally.
As many people know I drove here last May in my 1991 Ford Bronco. It made the trip with only one incidence, a plugged fuel filter and burned out gas pump. Since then it has been running like a dream and is on its way to the mechanic for a complete overhaul. After the mechanicals all get as close to new as possible it will go to the body shop for some cosmetic surgery and a new coat of paint. Not sure if it will stay red and tan or change to black and tan but whichever it ends up being should go well with the new natural cow hide interior the upholsterer is going to install. Thing is you can shop around to have the work done in town from all the mechanics, body shops and audios shops. Of course there is a gas station, a tow service, auto parts store, couple of tire repairs and a car wash where you can get it detailed for 40 pesos ($3.33).
Food is plentiful along with the choices of where to shop. Now it’s not like going to Wal-Mart or the supermarket and buying everything in one place. You have to choose which butcher to get your meat from and which tortilla maker to buy your tortillas from. And while every block seems to have at least one little shop, if not more they may not have the item you want. All the shops have snack items along with milk and beverages and some have veggies and some have bakery items, you just kind of learn when to go where. But then you can always take advantage of the folks who come into town selling fresh vegetables and fruit out of the back of their truck and announcing their presence over loud speakers mounted to the roof. I have always been a fan of jicama but have never had jicama like what we bought from the back of a truck. This jicama was so moist that the juice just ran out of it when cut. What has to be the best little shop is operated by a grandma who has nothing but a house hold refrigerator stocked with the coldest Coke and beer. Now if she’s not tending the store you just holler back into the house to let her know you are there. Seems like beverages are big business and you have a number of choices on where to buy liquor, and the choices they offer are pretty extensive as long as its beer or tequila. If you're a wine or scotch drinker the choices are pretty slim.
Clothing stores and shoe stores may not have the widest selection but the fashions are up to date and there are choices on where to shop.
Toy stores, gift shops and a jeweler are available if you need something for a special time. And if you need a place to rent for your special event you have your choice of venues.
Need to purchase a phone or use the internet – there are at least three options and the state is requiring every town to provide wireless internet in the town plaza.
San Diego de Alejandria does lack a local bank but there is an ATM, a money changer and what has been described to me as the unofficial “bank” – that provide folks with loans when needed.
The town has two hotels and a funeral home.
The bus station is always active with buses arrivng at all times during the day. The bus service in Mexico is extensive and living in Guadalajara I have come to appreciate the bus and the subway, but it's not just the big cities that have bus service it's the small towns too, and the funniest site is to see a bus bench on the highway in the middle of nowhere.
I have not needed health care at this point but should an emergency happen there is the ambulance service and for everyday health concerns there are doctors and dentists in town.
These are all the official storefront businesses but there is so much more commerce that goes on in San Diego. Everyone seems to be selling or working at something, there is a robust entrpenurial spirit alive in this country. There are the women who bake breads and sell door to door, women who sew the decorations on the sombreros for the tourist trade, women who take in laundry and those who tailor. The men, who do odd jobs, sell plants or handmade furniture on the street corners. Then the kids who sell candy or fruit they have picked. There is all sorts of unofficial commerce that takes place, there are even women who work the street. On a recent trip to Aguascalientes I remarked at the number of people who were begging. You rarely see this in Guadalajara and there is only one family in San Diego that will ask you for the money, everyone else is busy working for it.
If you are not involved in any of the storefront or non-official businesses that take place in San Diego you can always get a job at one of the factories. Working at the cheese factory was my first choice for a job until I found out they work six days a week, twelve hours a day and are paid $50 a week. Although I still think it would be fun to flail lengths of cheese over my shoulder and across my back to stretch them out not sure if my time is that cheap. The bag factory and the tennis shoe factory pay a bit better but not by much and the hours are the same.
Much of the “entertainment” that happens in town is sponsored by the government, schools or the church. San Diego is the seat of the municipality or what we would call county so a lot of the county events take place here. There is always something going on at the town plaza and you are guaranteed entertainment will be happening Sunday nights. Maybe a demonstration of traditional dance from another state or a mariachi band performing. Either way it’s free or the plaza is crowded. The schools seem to keep the kids occupied with events and the church of which there are three in town plays a huge part in people’s lives. Upon arriving in May I attended a two hour, Thursday evening, outdoor mass which included a procession to various stations set up around the church grounds. The final station was dedicated to blessing the people of South Africa and the athletes of the World Cup. Imagine my surprise to hear Shakira and her World Cup anthem being played for the procession. The priest and everybody were loving it!!!
Speaking of the church, there are many times when the priest is broadcast over loud speakers outside the church during mass and on a Saturday evening the kids are broadcast to the town while singing during their religion classes. The thing I really love are the bells proclaiming the time. How many mornings have I been to lazy to reach for my phone to check the time and I will just lie there waiting for the bells to ring.
There is no theater but there is a video store selling pirated copies of movies and CDs’.
Going out for a bite to eat is easy since there are so many choices available from taco and seafood stands to the chicken restaurant and the local pizza place. Over the last couple of years since I started coming to town it is amazing how many new eating establishments have opened.
And sometimes entertainment is simply sitting out in front of your house and conversing with your neighbors. Saying adois to everyone that passes by.
All this commerce and business and living generate a lot of activity and commotion and makes for a lively environment. People may make comments about their neighbors’ loud music and cruising around town in your car with the music playing is a popular activity – sometimes way late at night – but no one complains or gets too excited. After being in Guadalajara for a few weeks now and the constant barrage of commotion the city throws at you I have an appreciation for the lower volume of commotion available in San Diego.
It would seem that in a previous posting I offended some folks when I made the comment that small towns and the countryside in the U.S. Midwest felt quiet and lifeless to me. No offense was meant but I remember when small town America was self sufficient locally as opposed to regionally. A time when a town of 100 souls still had a gas station, conveinece store, postoffice and even a bar. I would ask that those folks compare what I have shared about San Diego de Alejandria and the amount of activity that occurs there to what goes on in Glenwood, Iowa or Crete, Nebraska. The last time I was in Glenwood it was pretty quiet except for the sound of flies buzzing around my head. And Crete? The last time it came up in conversation no one could say if Waneks of Crete was still in business. My point is simply that San Diego de Alejandria is representative of so many towns in Mexico both smaller and larger, that it is able to meet the daily needs of its residents and offer a place to live that is lively and full of commotion.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Paquita, FIL, My Mexican Weight Loss Program and Mas BOOBIES
Paquita la del Barrio
I have always been a fan of different types of music and about the only genre that is not on my iPod would be heavy metal. Part of the fun of living in Mexico is the music scene. We have been entertained at outdoor performances by reggae and opera. Have enjoyed a concert of sacred music sung in the ancient language of the Jews, performed on traditional medieval instruments. There was the harp concert that included five members of one family from Ecuador. And recently there was piano recital by a teeny, tiny German woman with Einstein hair who had performed her first recital in 1954. And I almost forgot about the street musicians of every kind.
My appreciation of Mexican music and Mexican performers has grown immensely and I now recognize many of them when they are played on the radio. Music seems to be part of the Mexican psyche and there are songs and artists that transcend all age groups. And when these songs or artists perform everyone sings. One of these iconic performers and also one of my favorites is Paquita la del Barrio.
While most of her songs are of a feminist nature bashing men and the macho culture, everyone adores her. Songs such as “Rata de dos Patas” (rat with two feet) and “Pobre Pistilito” (poor little pistol). I was able to see her perform at what would be the Jalisco State Fair in September, the stadium was overflowing and the promenade around the top deck had people standing ten deep to watch the show. Paquita is a very well put together women with a huge band to back her up but basically its just her out there with her songs. There are no dancers, no light show and aside from the occasional “gracias” to the crowd and patting her brow with a hanky it’s just her singing with the crowd is screaming for more.
Paquita is a true diva but I am told she is also very down to earth. She enjoys her tequila before the concert and when she is not performing Paquita is at her restaurant in Mexico City, in there cooking, making tortillas and serving her guests.
Please enjoy the following video as Paquita la del Barrio performs “Rata de dos Patas”
FIL - Feria Internacional del Libro de Guadalajara
Guadalajara International Book Fair
Last Thursday Spanish class was canceled for a field trip. The teachers and students got on the #262 bus, paid our 6 pesos each and went to the Guadalajara International Book Fair, known as FIL.
The book fair takes place over 9 days and features 500 writers, 350 book presentations, 1,650 publishing houses and book vendors from 40 countries and is the second largest book fair in the world after Frankfurt, Germany.
I woke up that morning looking forward to going but without any idea of what this event entailed. When we arrived that morning the exposition center was bustling but by the time we left around 12:3 it was packed. We walked the whole center, somehow never losing anyone in our group, but with the aisles of publishers and vendors I know we didn’t experience everything there was to see.
Was planning to return that evening with friends for the free outdoor concert that takes place after the book fair closes at 9pm, but we didn’t make it. As one of the girls in our group remarked, "Who would've thought there would be so many things going on at a book fair". The place was certainly lively and not library quiet at all.
Since our knowledge of Spanish is fairly limited the group spent most of time looking at and buying children’s books. Which was really kind of fun, I found a pop-up copy of Jules Verne’s “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” which was my favorite book as a kid. Not sure how many times I checked that out of the Benson Library in Omaha, but it was more than a couple. Anyway this pop-up book is a pretty sophisticated and seems to be fairly complete as far as a story line goes. I am excited to start practicing Spanish with my new treasure and am really motivated now to learn more so that next year maybe I can purchase something that is a bit more of a read.
I was able to return to the book fair on Friday night before another event. It's amazing how large and spread out Guadalajara is that everything seems to happen so close by. So Friday night around 7:3 they closed the ticket windows and entry was free and the fair was staying open till 3am Saturday morning. That night the place was packed but I found another room in the expo center we hadn't seen that was divided up by country. There was gridlock surrounding the exposition center and the sidewalks were lined with street vendors of all types. Makes me proud to be a reader.
My Mexican Diet Plan
Being back in the states last September I was astounded by the amount of food being served. During those three weeks I gained a total of 10 pounds. Even though I had only been gone four months I guess I never realized how much food was consumed at one setting, and how you always finish what is in front of you.
Upon my return to Mexico I quickly lost what I had gained in Nebraska plus another 12 pounds.
All totaled since moving to Mexico I have lost 42 pounds and 7 inches off my waist.
I attribute this to the following factors:
1) The food we eat here is natural, fresh and local-
Not “manufactured” or processed
2) The portions are correct-
The states have “BIG food”. Here you stop at a taco stand and eat 3 tacos, if you want to, you get another. It seems that everyday is Thanksgiving back in the states.
3) I am never hungry here-
Maybe because my stomach is never stretched – hehehe
4) My meals are pretty much on a schedule-
I generally have breakfast between 8 and 9. Lunch between 2 and 4.
Dinner rarely.
5) I walk-
Maybe not as much as I did when living in the country but in Guadalajara I walk to the bus, to the subway, to the store and then up the 5 flights of stairs to our third floor apartment.
Not sure how that works but its 5 flights - no elevator
6) I probably eat more dairy than ever before-
I had never been a fan of milk but now drink at least one glass every morning and breakfast usually has two eggs with it. I remember working with a guy who was on a diet that required eggs every morning.
It all seems pretty simple, natural foods, correct portions and exercise but my diet plan happened without me even knowing it.
Mas BOOBIES, Mas Boobies, Mas Boobies !!!
That's how the announcer shouts it every time this commercial plays on the radio.
This is the commercial of a bar that is located just three blocks from the apartment. The promotion is that every time you drink there, if you are female, you are given a chance to win a new pair of BOOBIES. I don't even know if this would be legal in the States.
I have always been a fan of different types of music and about the only genre that is not on my iPod would be heavy metal. Part of the fun of living in Mexico is the music scene. We have been entertained at outdoor performances by reggae and opera. Have enjoyed a concert of sacred music sung in the ancient language of the Jews, performed on traditional medieval instruments. There was the harp concert that included five members of one family from Ecuador. And recently there was piano recital by a teeny, tiny German woman with Einstein hair who had performed her first recital in 1954. And I almost forgot about the street musicians of every kind.
My appreciation of Mexican music and Mexican performers has grown immensely and I now recognize many of them when they are played on the radio. Music seems to be part of the Mexican psyche and there are songs and artists that transcend all age groups. And when these songs or artists perform everyone sings. One of these iconic performers and also one of my favorites is Paquita la del Barrio.
While most of her songs are of a feminist nature bashing men and the macho culture, everyone adores her. Songs such as “Rata de dos Patas” (rat with two feet) and “Pobre Pistilito” (poor little pistol). I was able to see her perform at what would be the Jalisco State Fair in September, the stadium was overflowing and the promenade around the top deck had people standing ten deep to watch the show. Paquita is a very well put together women with a huge band to back her up but basically its just her out there with her songs. There are no dancers, no light show and aside from the occasional “gracias” to the crowd and patting her brow with a hanky it’s just her singing with the crowd is screaming for more.
Paquita is a true diva but I am told she is also very down to earth. She enjoys her tequila before the concert and when she is not performing Paquita is at her restaurant in Mexico City, in there cooking, making tortillas and serving her guests.
Please enjoy the following video as Paquita la del Barrio performs “Rata de dos Patas”
FIL - Feria Internacional del Libro de Guadalajara
Guadalajara International Book Fair
Last Thursday Spanish class was canceled for a field trip. The teachers and students got on the #262 bus, paid our 6 pesos each and went to the Guadalajara International Book Fair, known as FIL.
The book fair takes place over 9 days and features 500 writers, 350 book presentations, 1,650 publishing houses and book vendors from 40 countries and is the second largest book fair in the world after Frankfurt, Germany.
I woke up that morning looking forward to going but without any idea of what this event entailed. When we arrived that morning the exposition center was bustling but by the time we left around 12:3 it was packed. We walked the whole center, somehow never losing anyone in our group, but with the aisles of publishers and vendors I know we didn’t experience everything there was to see.
Was planning to return that evening with friends for the free outdoor concert that takes place after the book fair closes at 9pm, but we didn’t make it. As one of the girls in our group remarked, "Who would've thought there would be so many things going on at a book fair". The place was certainly lively and not library quiet at all.
Since our knowledge of Spanish is fairly limited the group spent most of time looking at and buying children’s books. Which was really kind of fun, I found a pop-up copy of Jules Verne’s “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” which was my favorite book as a kid. Not sure how many times I checked that out of the Benson Library in Omaha, but it was more than a couple. Anyway this pop-up book is a pretty sophisticated and seems to be fairly complete as far as a story line goes. I am excited to start practicing Spanish with my new treasure and am really motivated now to learn more so that next year maybe I can purchase something that is a bit more of a read.
I was able to return to the book fair on Friday night before another event. It's amazing how large and spread out Guadalajara is that everything seems to happen so close by. So Friday night around 7:3 they closed the ticket windows and entry was free and the fair was staying open till 3am Saturday morning. That night the place was packed but I found another room in the expo center we hadn't seen that was divided up by country. There was gridlock surrounding the exposition center and the sidewalks were lined with street vendors of all types. Makes me proud to be a reader.
My Mexican Diet Plan
Being back in the states last September I was astounded by the amount of food being served. During those three weeks I gained a total of 10 pounds. Even though I had only been gone four months I guess I never realized how much food was consumed at one setting, and how you always finish what is in front of you.
Upon my return to Mexico I quickly lost what I had gained in Nebraska plus another 12 pounds.
All totaled since moving to Mexico I have lost 42 pounds and 7 inches off my waist.
I attribute this to the following factors:
1) The food we eat here is natural, fresh and local-
Not “manufactured” or processed
2) The portions are correct-
The states have “BIG food”. Here you stop at a taco stand and eat 3 tacos, if you want to, you get another. It seems that everyday is Thanksgiving back in the states.
3) I am never hungry here-
Maybe because my stomach is never stretched – hehehe
4) My meals are pretty much on a schedule-
I generally have breakfast between 8 and 9. Lunch between 2 and 4.
Dinner rarely.
5) I walk-
Maybe not as much as I did when living in the country but in Guadalajara I walk to the bus, to the subway, to the store and then up the 5 flights of stairs to our third floor apartment.
Not sure how that works but its 5 flights - no elevator
6) I probably eat more dairy than ever before-
I had never been a fan of milk but now drink at least one glass every morning and breakfast usually has two eggs with it. I remember working with a guy who was on a diet that required eggs every morning.
It all seems pretty simple, natural foods, correct portions and exercise but my diet plan happened without me even knowing it.
Mas BOOBIES, Mas Boobies, Mas Boobies !!!
That's how the announcer shouts it every time this commercial plays on the radio.
This is the commercial of a bar that is located just three blocks from the apartment. The promotion is that every time you drink there, if you are female, you are given a chance to win a new pair of BOOBIES. I don't even know if this would be legal in the States.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
"La Pequena Gigante"
This past week events in Guadalajara Centro have been described as surreal and while they may seem that way I would say they are more magical capturing the hearts and minds of over 3 million citizens.
Last Monday a wall “fell from heaven” embedding it’s self into the cobblestone street in front of the Teatro Degollado. The wall was painted with a mural similar to one by Diego Rivera telling the history of Mexico, but this mural included another story complete with giants.
Later on Tuesday the giants began to arrive in the city when a large block of ice containing the dog “El Xolo” appeared in the Plaza Santuario. Thursday evening riding into town on a bus from Morales was the “La Pequena Gigante” (Little Giant).
It was all produced by Royal de Luxe Company of France and was part of the ongoing celebrations of Mexican Independence and the Mexican Revolution.
The Little Giant was here to reunite with her uncle “El Campesino”. The legend on the wall tells how “El Campesino” heard Miguel Hidalgos’ cry for independence. But when he appeared before the rebel forces they feared he would kill Hidalgo and buried him in a hidden sarcophagus. Two centuries later “La Pequena Gigante” along with her dog "Xolo" are reunited with “El Campesino”
Before leaving town on Friday afternoon we were able to see where “La Pequena Gigante” had slept through the night after arriving in town and causing an accident that left vehicles overturned.
When we arrived around 1:3pm she was laying in the street snoring loudly. Many blocks down Avenida Alcade her dog “Xolo” was awake and ready to make the run to find his mistress and begin their journey together.
The two of them would stroll through town until they came upon the wall and the story it told of Mexico and "La Pequena Gigantes'" Uncle. That night they would sleep in front of the Teatro Degollda then go off in search of the sarcophagus containing “El Campesino” the next day.
The story and events pull you in as the giant marionettes come to life. And come to life they do, truly seeming alive through their actions and facial expressions complete with blinking eyes. When “Xolo” ran down the street he really ran, as any dog would looking for his mistress. And when he found “La Pequena Gigante” asleep he started to nudge her and lick her like a real dog would as if saying “ come on, get up, let’s go”.
When the claim is made that the events were surreal it had as much to do with the mass of people attending and the fact that many major streets that are always congested with traffic were going to be closed for days. And then to watch as “Xolo” woke from his block of ice and started to make his way to “La Pequena Gigante” breaking into a run as he got closer with thousands of people chasing in pursuit. All five of us included. It was the magic that pulled you in and you just felt you needed to be a part of the giants’ story.
Please check out YouTube for more videos of the Giants adventures in Guadalajara.
Last Monday a wall “fell from heaven” embedding it’s self into the cobblestone street in front of the Teatro Degollado. The wall was painted with a mural similar to one by Diego Rivera telling the history of Mexico, but this mural included another story complete with giants.
Later on Tuesday the giants began to arrive in the city when a large block of ice containing the dog “El Xolo” appeared in the Plaza Santuario. Thursday evening riding into town on a bus from Morales was the “La Pequena Gigante” (Little Giant).
It was all produced by Royal de Luxe Company of France and was part of the ongoing celebrations of Mexican Independence and the Mexican Revolution.
The Little Giant was here to reunite with her uncle “El Campesino”. The legend on the wall tells how “El Campesino” heard Miguel Hidalgos’ cry for independence. But when he appeared before the rebel forces they feared he would kill Hidalgo and buried him in a hidden sarcophagus. Two centuries later “La Pequena Gigante” along with her dog "Xolo" are reunited with “El Campesino”
Before leaving town on Friday afternoon we were able to see where “La Pequena Gigante” had slept through the night after arriving in town and causing an accident that left vehicles overturned.
When we arrived around 1:3pm she was laying in the street snoring loudly. Many blocks down Avenida Alcade her dog “Xolo” was awake and ready to make the run to find his mistress and begin their journey together.
The two of them would stroll through town until they came upon the wall and the story it told of Mexico and "La Pequena Gigantes'" Uncle. That night they would sleep in front of the Teatro Degollda then go off in search of the sarcophagus containing “El Campesino” the next day.
The story and events pull you in as the giant marionettes come to life. And come to life they do, truly seeming alive through their actions and facial expressions complete with blinking eyes. When “Xolo” ran down the street he really ran, as any dog would looking for his mistress. And when he found “La Pequena Gigante” asleep he started to nudge her and lick her like a real dog would as if saying “ come on, get up, let’s go”.
When the claim is made that the events were surreal it had as much to do with the mass of people attending and the fact that many major streets that are always congested with traffic were going to be closed for days. And then to watch as “Xolo” woke from his block of ice and started to make his way to “La Pequena Gigante” breaking into a run as he got closer with thousands of people chasing in pursuit. All five of us included. It was the magic that pulled you in and you just felt you needed to be a part of the giants’ story.
Please check out YouTube for more videos of the Giants adventures in Guadalajara.
Original Introduction - Bienvenidos “Postcard From Mexico”
Bienvenidos to my blog “Postcard From Mexico”
It’s not that I feel my life is that interesting; It’s just that I live in a very interesting world.
Shortly after moving to Mexico I began to find that everyday brought new adventures, sometimes challenges depending on your outlook. Adventures from having the car chased down by a guard ostrich to getting a cell phone – it’s a whole different world from what I was used to in Omaha, Nebraska.
In keeping touch with folks I found that I was sharing many of these adventures and people were looking forward to hearing more about this new world of mine. My Sincere Thanks to all for the feedback and encouragement to write this blog.
At the start of this project I investigated a lot of what the web had to offer for blogs on Mexico.
The majority of the blogs seem to be News related – in the beginning this will be left to the professionals – unless of course I am the news.
There are many blogs on Food – we eat eggs right from the chicken and drink milk warm from the cow, having been in the food business there will be much to share on the food.
There is any number of Travel blogs – one did nothing but complain about the weather. I will try harder. To be honest there is so much to experience when you get out and see the country and get away from the typical tourist areas. So there will be no reviews about the odious Senor Frogs in Puerto Vallarta but there will be stories like waking up on my 48th birthday in the beautiful mountain town of Talpa situated deep down in the valley.
And finally there are the “How To” blogs with information on how to live, get a drivers license, get a visa etc…. – Honestly would you want advice from me??? I drove here, 1,800 miles in my 1991 Ford Bronco and after being here for almost two months I still don’t speak Spanish and I have no official papers. The best advice I can give you goes for life in general, be patient, relax and enjoy the moments.
So I hope you enjoy what this interesting world of Mexico has to offer. Comments are encouraged and questions will be answered if possible.
It’s not that I feel my life is that interesting; It’s just that I live in a very interesting world.
Shortly after moving to Mexico I began to find that everyday brought new adventures, sometimes challenges depending on your outlook. Adventures from having the car chased down by a guard ostrich to getting a cell phone – it’s a whole different world from what I was used to in Omaha, Nebraska.
In keeping touch with folks I found that I was sharing many of these adventures and people were looking forward to hearing more about this new world of mine. My Sincere Thanks to all for the feedback and encouragement to write this blog.
At the start of this project I investigated a lot of what the web had to offer for blogs on Mexico.
The majority of the blogs seem to be News related – in the beginning this will be left to the professionals – unless of course I am the news.
There are many blogs on Food – we eat eggs right from the chicken and drink milk warm from the cow, having been in the food business there will be much to share on the food.
There is any number of Travel blogs – one did nothing but complain about the weather. I will try harder. To be honest there is so much to experience when you get out and see the country and get away from the typical tourist areas. So there will be no reviews about the odious Senor Frogs in Puerto Vallarta but there will be stories like waking up on my 48th birthday in the beautiful mountain town of Talpa situated deep down in the valley.
And finally there are the “How To” blogs with information on how to live, get a drivers license, get a visa etc…. – Honestly would you want advice from me??? I drove here, 1,800 miles in my 1991 Ford Bronco and after being here for almost two months I still don’t speak Spanish and I have no official papers. The best advice I can give you goes for life in general, be patient, relax and enjoy the moments.
So I hope you enjoy what this interesting world of Mexico has to offer. Comments are encouraged and questions will be answered if possible.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Updates and Miscellaneous Stuff
Spanish 101
I am really excited to say that I have enrolled and started Spanish classes at Instituto Cultural Mexicano Norteamericano de Jalisico here in Guadalajara. Have now had my third day and am very surprised at how much I do know but never put to use. On the other hand there is some anxiety at how much we are being taught each day but the class is small with only one other student; a young lady from Germany. The conversation group which meets before class is a really fun mix of people with one person each from Moscow, Seattle, Tehran, The Philippines and Turkey. I guess I figured it would all be people like me. They all have a very good understanding of English and a jump on Spanish which does make me feel a bit out of sorts but it is going to be fun learning about their lives. I did spend a good amount of time investigating schools for Spanish and found most to have an inflated cost with no clear explanation of their curriculum. This school operates as a non-profit and is the original English Language School in the city
Santa – Is That You ???
So last week after registering for school I walked over to the park at Juarez to wait for my ride. I am sitting on a bench enjoying the sun and just watching people go about their business. Guadalajara is an extremely diverse city and you are able to witness folks from all walks of life at any given point. One rather dapper looking gentleman is sitting on a bench catty corner to me combing his thick white mane and beard. Picture in your mind what Santa Claus would look like if he was homeless, sitting on a park bench surrounded by garbage bags containing all his worldly belongings. After grooming his beard and parting his hair for a good half hour Santa starts to change from what I have to assume were his sleeping cloths, sweat pants and slippers to short pants and sandals. He goes about this business as any of us would in the privacy of our own homes, putting down a bath mat so his feet don’t touch the pavement when he changes his shoes and pants, neatly folding his sweat pants and placing them in a bag then using a separate bag for his slippers, everything has its place.
Now before I go any further let me tell you that this park is busy, it is the entrance for the main subway station in Guadalajara and there are people everywhere. Not twenty feet from Santa there is a large group of teenagers messing about. Every park bench is full of people and fifty feet away is where the city has a station set up to rent bikes. This is actually an ugly, inner city park but it is getting cleaned up and besides all the commuters there is a multitude of people working, laying sod, putting in plants, trimming trees and watering.
Santa now has his sleeping cloths put away and walks to a tree directly behind my bench, drops his shorts, squats with his back to the tree and takes a dump. In front of God and everyone.
All I can do is laugh out loud – who would’ve thought. There is a car with a young couple parked in front of me watching all this go on and the girl is just screaming with laughter. That’s when it hits; the smell is so horrific that I make a run for the corner.
But Santa, he just goes about his business then heads back to change his cloths once again, polo shirt, jeans and loafers. He looked like anybody else in the park.
This experience made me wonder about whom the park really belonged to. Santa was certainly homeless but he sure felt at home and oblivious to the hundreds of people around him.
La Cantina Fuente
Speaking of the diversity of Guadalajara my absolute favorite place to stop for a drink either before or after an event in Guadalajara Centro is La Cantina Fuente otherwise known as La Biciclete. It is located off the main plaza behind the Cathedral in a building that was a convent a few hundred years back. It is a cavernous place with forty foot ceilings, fluorescent lighting, and has been in operation since the 20’s. The staff is not the friendliest but the atmosphere is incredible and it was a frequent hangout for Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. You see folks from all walks of life at La Fuente, on the few visits I have been there you start to recognize the regulars, the man we call the poet with his black hat, black vest and red shirt, the elderly man who walked up to me complaining about the place and the fact that he has been frequenting the establishment for 18 years, and the business man who sings absolutely every song. When the piano player starts to play up on his raised platform in the middle of the room everyone sings. You just have to experience this place where on any given night hundreds of folks, young, old, male, female, rich, poor, gay and straight join in song together. My experience has taught me that there are songs that are embedded in the Mexican psyche and when they are played you sing. La Fuente is called La Biciclete for the old bicycle that hangs above the bar covered with the dust, dirt and grime of the ages.
Tequila
In a previous posting I had stated that the city of Arandas was the Tequila Capital of the world. After a recent business trip to the town of Tequila, yes it was for business and yes there is a town named Tequila, it became quite obvious that Tequila is the true home of tequila and not Arandas. From the enormous Jose Cuervo and Sauza factories to the museums and just the culture that you feel there, this is the home of Tequila. It is a beautiful town surrounded by mountains and reached by a curving, very scenic highway from Guadalajara.
Photos from Mezquitan
We spent Sunday afternoon at the Mezquitan Cemetary and a few of the over 200 shots are posted here today. The cemetery takes up an enormous amount of land and is visually overwhelming when you walk through. You find yourself continually saying “look at that” “look at that” until you get separated from your group who can be just a few feet away but not know your whereabouts. Even with all decay and caution tape strung up around collapsing tombs Mezquitan is a beautiful, fascinating and peaceful place to spend the afternoon. They also do late night tours - scary !!!
I am really excited to say that I have enrolled and started Spanish classes at Instituto Cultural Mexicano Norteamericano de Jalisico here in Guadalajara. Have now had my third day and am very surprised at how much I do know but never put to use. On the other hand there is some anxiety at how much we are being taught each day but the class is small with only one other student; a young lady from Germany. The conversation group which meets before class is a really fun mix of people with one person each from Moscow, Seattle, Tehran, The Philippines and Turkey. I guess I figured it would all be people like me. They all have a very good understanding of English and a jump on Spanish which does make me feel a bit out of sorts but it is going to be fun learning about their lives. I did spend a good amount of time investigating schools for Spanish and found most to have an inflated cost with no clear explanation of their curriculum. This school operates as a non-profit and is the original English Language School in the city
Santa – Is That You ???
So last week after registering for school I walked over to the park at Juarez to wait for my ride. I am sitting on a bench enjoying the sun and just watching people go about their business. Guadalajara is an extremely diverse city and you are able to witness folks from all walks of life at any given point. One rather dapper looking gentleman is sitting on a bench catty corner to me combing his thick white mane and beard. Picture in your mind what Santa Claus would look like if he was homeless, sitting on a park bench surrounded by garbage bags containing all his worldly belongings. After grooming his beard and parting his hair for a good half hour Santa starts to change from what I have to assume were his sleeping cloths, sweat pants and slippers to short pants and sandals. He goes about this business as any of us would in the privacy of our own homes, putting down a bath mat so his feet don’t touch the pavement when he changes his shoes and pants, neatly folding his sweat pants and placing them in a bag then using a separate bag for his slippers, everything has its place.
Now before I go any further let me tell you that this park is busy, it is the entrance for the main subway station in Guadalajara and there are people everywhere. Not twenty feet from Santa there is a large group of teenagers messing about. Every park bench is full of people and fifty feet away is where the city has a station set up to rent bikes. This is actually an ugly, inner city park but it is getting cleaned up and besides all the commuters there is a multitude of people working, laying sod, putting in plants, trimming trees and watering.
Santa now has his sleeping cloths put away and walks to a tree directly behind my bench, drops his shorts, squats with his back to the tree and takes a dump. In front of God and everyone.
All I can do is laugh out loud – who would’ve thought. There is a car with a young couple parked in front of me watching all this go on and the girl is just screaming with laughter. That’s when it hits; the smell is so horrific that I make a run for the corner.
But Santa, he just goes about his business then heads back to change his cloths once again, polo shirt, jeans and loafers. He looked like anybody else in the park.
This experience made me wonder about whom the park really belonged to. Santa was certainly homeless but he sure felt at home and oblivious to the hundreds of people around him.
La Cantina Fuente
Speaking of the diversity of Guadalajara my absolute favorite place to stop for a drink either before or after an event in Guadalajara Centro is La Cantina Fuente otherwise known as La Biciclete. It is located off the main plaza behind the Cathedral in a building that was a convent a few hundred years back. It is a cavernous place with forty foot ceilings, fluorescent lighting, and has been in operation since the 20’s. The staff is not the friendliest but the atmosphere is incredible and it was a frequent hangout for Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. You see folks from all walks of life at La Fuente, on the few visits I have been there you start to recognize the regulars, the man we call the poet with his black hat, black vest and red shirt, the elderly man who walked up to me complaining about the place and the fact that he has been frequenting the establishment for 18 years, and the business man who sings absolutely every song. When the piano player starts to play up on his raised platform in the middle of the room everyone sings. You just have to experience this place where on any given night hundreds of folks, young, old, male, female, rich, poor, gay and straight join in song together. My experience has taught me that there are songs that are embedded in the Mexican psyche and when they are played you sing. La Fuente is called La Biciclete for the old bicycle that hangs above the bar covered with the dust, dirt and grime of the ages.
Tequila
In a previous posting I had stated that the city of Arandas was the Tequila Capital of the world. After a recent business trip to the town of Tequila, yes it was for business and yes there is a town named Tequila, it became quite obvious that Tequila is the true home of tequila and not Arandas. From the enormous Jose Cuervo and Sauza factories to the museums and just the culture that you feel there, this is the home of Tequila. It is a beautiful town surrounded by mountains and reached by a curving, very scenic highway from Guadalajara.
Photos from Mezquitan
We spent Sunday afternoon at the Mezquitan Cemetary and a few of the over 200 shots are posted here today. The cemetery takes up an enormous amount of land and is visually overwhelming when you walk through. You find yourself continually saying “look at that” “look at that” until you get separated from your group who can be just a few feet away but not know your whereabouts. Even with all decay and caution tape strung up around collapsing tombs Mezquitan is a beautiful, fascinating and peaceful place to spend the afternoon. They also do late night tours - scary !!!
Where Have I Been ???
After returning to Omaha for an extended stay this past month I am now back home to Mexico and ready to share more stories and experiences.
Also during this time I have been settling into a new apartment in Guadalajara where I will be spending most of my time with frequent weekend trips back to San Diego de Alejandria.
Most of the experiences I’ve written about so far have centered around life in the Mexican countryside. Living in Guadalajara will bring a different perspective to the stories I share. While Guadalajara is a huge city, with a population of around five million in the combined metropolitan area for some reason it never feels that big.
Thank You for checking in on the blog during my absence and please look for more stories and experiences to be posted every Monday.
Also during this time I have been settling into a new apartment in Guadalajara where I will be spending most of my time with frequent weekend trips back to San Diego de Alejandria.
Most of the experiences I’ve written about so far have centered around life in the Mexican countryside. Living in Guadalajara will bring a different perspective to the stories I share. While Guadalajara is a huge city, with a population of around five million in the combined metropolitan area for some reason it never feels that big.
Thank You for checking in on the blog during my absence and please look for more stories and experiences to be posted every Monday.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
“Fast Food” Mexican Style
posted from Guadalajara
When I was back visiting Omaha in September I spent many enjoyable times eating out with family and friends. One evening I remarked to my Mom”let’s just go someplace easy”. Someplace you can just stop, get your food, have it be great, no hassle with waiting for service or overwhelmed by menu choices and portions – just easy. When I say “Fast Food” Mexican Style I am not talking about McDonalds, KFC or Burger Rey of which there are plenty here in Guadalajara, but what I am talking about are the street vendors. Living in Mexico I have come to enjoy the food and variety offered by what I used to think of as sketchy street vendors. They are fast, the food is great and usually pretty good for you since it’s not that removed from its natural state.
Around 7pm a few nights back there was of course no food of any consequence in the apartment. So we walked outside and hit the streets. My Godparents should they ever visit will be happy to know that there is a McDonalds just three blocks from the apartment. They are huge fans of McDonalds starting everyday there and knowing where every “lovely” McDonalds is located along their travels in the States and Canada. But we didn’t go to McDonalds; in fact I haven’t had that type of fast food for almost a year now. That night we found just a couple of blocks away from the apartment a guy selling tacos – and they were great !!! After awhile you learn that it is not so much the meat that’s in the taco but the salsas that the vendor prepares that sets them apart. Unlike what we are used to with Pace Picante in the States which is tomato based most salsas here are pepper based. Now that doesn’t mean they are 5 alarm hot it just means they have flavor. As we are standing there that night eating our dinner with the traffic whizzing by, not 20 feet away the next taco stand is setting up for the night’s business. Nothing fancy but it was filling, it was easy and it was cheap.
When in Guadalajara many nights on the way home we end up at DOGOS just off the Minerva roundabout. I have never ever been a fan of hot dogs but I have to tell you these are addictive. You get two skinny dogs on a Wonder bun but they are topped with onions, mustard, pickle relish, tomatoes and cream. Yes, cream – who would have thought. They are a mess to eat but like I said they are addictive and the place is always hopping.
Another place in Guadalajara I like to frequent is the “Happy Fish” (the name is in English) which takes up a couple of storefronts and has a prep kitchen on the second floor but they still serve you out on the sidewalk. Every time I’ve been there the “Happy Fish” is busy serving up their fish and shrimp tacos. It was here after trying to order a bottle of water that I ended up having freshly made rice milk for the first time – love it. But it’s the condiment station that really rocks with it’s variety of salsas, peppered onions, cole slaws, cucumber slices, shredded cabbage and more. You order two tacos, 1 fish, 1 shrimp and it’s like getting a free salad bar. You know again it’s fast, it’s easy, it’s great food and it’s so inexpensive.
Beware though; all tacos are not the same. It is a good idea to ask how large they are when ordering. Recently while passing through Tepatitlan the tortillas were maybe 3 inches in diameter with a teaspoon of filling while two days later in Aguascalientes the tortilla for the quesadilla was a good 6 to 7 inches and just packed full. Both places were selling for basically the same price.
The first time I truly embraced food from a street vendor was in Santa Rita. The family I am with has a 96 year old friend and one Sunday we took her back to visit her hometown of Santa Rita, a place she hadn’t been to for over sixty years.
While she was visiting with the daughters of a friend who had passed on we walked to the town square. It was there I ate roasted potatoes with chopped up hot dog and chili sauce out of a baggie and couldn’t get enough. Then there was the shredded vegetable and fruit parfait. Shredded beets, mango, zucchini and cucumber with chili powder sprinkled on top. The fruit and veggies were fresh and flavorful but the juice they made with the chili powder was just as tasty. That trip to Santa Rita changed my whole way of thinking about “street food” and led me to be more adventurous and appreciative.
Vendors come in all varieties and it seems you can find almost anything to eat. The part I really like is that the food is all fresh. Outside the apartment in Guadalajara there is a vendor that sets up shop every afternoon selling fruit parfaits with chunked fruit. Everywhere you go there is an ice cream vendor and the ice cream is always homemade. On a recent visit to Talaquepaque we had to search out the ice cream store after seeing a family walk by with their cones. Now it was a Saturday afternoon and it was time for a michelada (red beer with lime and salsa) but we opted for ice cream instead, that’s how inviting it looked. Anyway while they were dishing up our cones we were watching the guy behind the counter mixing up the ice cream by hand with a large paddle. There are the fried banana vendors and the potato chip vendors. Many times while visiting the paint store we would see the chip vendor leaving for the day pushing his cart loaded with fresh homemade chips out onto the street to start selling.
Shaved ice is another option with a wide variety of fresh toppings like pecan, mango, raspberry, kiwi, coffee an eggnog like concoction and at least a dozen total.
On the plazas of Guadalajara Centro there are the vendors that sell steamed veggies where you can get cups or plates of steamed corn, broccoli, beets and cactus. You can either get a variety or tell them what you want like more corn and less beets. Then its topped with crumbled cheese and of course salsa. On a chilly evening it’s a treat to eat the warm veggies and then slurp down the juices.
Then of course there is chicharon – which I will surely never, ever be a fan of. Chicharon comes in two basic forms from what I can tell. Fried with the texture of styrofoam or pickled with the texture of slimy rubber. It seems that everyone I meet loves their chicharon and eats it smothered with tomatoes, onions and of course slasa. I did sample the chicharon ice cream in Dolores Hidalgo thinking that it would have the flavor but not the texture – the face I made and the gagging that followed had everyone laughing for days. The flavor is not so bad it’s the texture that gets to me and the ice cream had actual chicharon ground up in it. And in case you didn’t know chicharon is pig skin. Mmmmmm.
Ears of corn roasted or steamed and then brushed with cream and sprinkled with chili powder – WOW. At the height of the corn season there was a truck that would cruise around San Diego de Alejandria with loud speakers mounted to the roof announcing he had elote for sale. Selling fresh steamed corn out of the back of his truck this guy was driving around town for weeks.
Now the neatest vendor set up I just encountered last weekend while writing this story – the sweet potato man. He pushes a cart with a wood fire oven burning, roasting the sweet potatoes in their own natural sugars till they are soft and golden brown, slightly crisped from the oven. What makes the whole thing so cool is that when the steam builds up enough in the oven the exhaust chimney on the cart will go off like a train whistle. This is how the sweet potato man announces that he is on your street corner.
Now I spent my working life dealing with food, owning restaurants, a wholesale bakery, catering service and completing my career in a hospital food service. Hospital foodservice is a place where sanitation standards are greatly enforced because like a wise man once told me – these people are already sick, you don’t want to be responsible for making them worse. There are a lot of rules for safe food handling in the States but what I see with all these vendors is that they, with their buckets of clean water just use common sense and do what’s right. I once had this crazy business partner and one night he found a container of moldy mushrooms on the cooks’ line. At which point he started to pull everything from the coolers throwing the contents on the floor. At the end of his tirade he was sitting on the floor crying that we were going to poison our guests. Now no one in their right mind would have served those mushrooms and I relate this story to the street vendors and how they do what’s best to keep their business alive. In all my travels to Mexico I have only had food poisoning once and that was after eating in a restaurant, and we decided that it was from the manufactured, bottled salsa. There were three of us eating that day, we all had the same thing to eat, and each of us was sick and was sick to the amount of salsa we had used.
“Fast Food” isn’t limited to the streets though, for more of a restaurant, sit down service type atmosphere in Guadalajara there is Karne Girbaldi. Karne Girbaldi is recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records as having the fastest service in the world. And seriously within five minutes of sitting down we had our entrees before us. As we approached our table the waiters were already converging with tortilla chips and a refried bean dip that you can’t stop eating. Its refried beans, hominy, chili’s and it’s all cooked up with bacon grease – what could be better. You know it might have taken us longer, just by a second, to get our drinks than it did our food.
So be adventurous, there is a lot of good food out there to be enjoyed.
When I was back visiting Omaha in September I spent many enjoyable times eating out with family and friends. One evening I remarked to my Mom”let’s just go someplace easy”. Someplace you can just stop, get your food, have it be great, no hassle with waiting for service or overwhelmed by menu choices and portions – just easy. When I say “Fast Food” Mexican Style I am not talking about McDonalds, KFC or Burger Rey of which there are plenty here in Guadalajara, but what I am talking about are the street vendors. Living in Mexico I have come to enjoy the food and variety offered by what I used to think of as sketchy street vendors. They are fast, the food is great and usually pretty good for you since it’s not that removed from its natural state.
Around 7pm a few nights back there was of course no food of any consequence in the apartment. So we walked outside and hit the streets. My Godparents should they ever visit will be happy to know that there is a McDonalds just three blocks from the apartment. They are huge fans of McDonalds starting everyday there and knowing where every “lovely” McDonalds is located along their travels in the States and Canada. But we didn’t go to McDonalds; in fact I haven’t had that type of fast food for almost a year now. That night we found just a couple of blocks away from the apartment a guy selling tacos – and they were great !!! After awhile you learn that it is not so much the meat that’s in the taco but the salsas that the vendor prepares that sets them apart. Unlike what we are used to with Pace Picante in the States which is tomato based most salsas here are pepper based. Now that doesn’t mean they are 5 alarm hot it just means they have flavor. As we are standing there that night eating our dinner with the traffic whizzing by, not 20 feet away the next taco stand is setting up for the night’s business. Nothing fancy but it was filling, it was easy and it was cheap.
When in Guadalajara many nights on the way home we end up at DOGOS just off the Minerva roundabout. I have never ever been a fan of hot dogs but I have to tell you these are addictive. You get two skinny dogs on a Wonder bun but they are topped with onions, mustard, pickle relish, tomatoes and cream. Yes, cream – who would have thought. They are a mess to eat but like I said they are addictive and the place is always hopping.
Another place in Guadalajara I like to frequent is the “Happy Fish” (the name is in English) which takes up a couple of storefronts and has a prep kitchen on the second floor but they still serve you out on the sidewalk. Every time I’ve been there the “Happy Fish” is busy serving up their fish and shrimp tacos. It was here after trying to order a bottle of water that I ended up having freshly made rice milk for the first time – love it. But it’s the condiment station that really rocks with it’s variety of salsas, peppered onions, cole slaws, cucumber slices, shredded cabbage and more. You order two tacos, 1 fish, 1 shrimp and it’s like getting a free salad bar. You know again it’s fast, it’s easy, it’s great food and it’s so inexpensive.
Beware though; all tacos are not the same. It is a good idea to ask how large they are when ordering. Recently while passing through Tepatitlan the tortillas were maybe 3 inches in diameter with a teaspoon of filling while two days later in Aguascalientes the tortilla for the quesadilla was a good 6 to 7 inches and just packed full. Both places were selling for basically the same price.
The first time I truly embraced food from a street vendor was in Santa Rita. The family I am with has a 96 year old friend and one Sunday we took her back to visit her hometown of Santa Rita, a place she hadn’t been to for over sixty years.
While she was visiting with the daughters of a friend who had passed on we walked to the town square. It was there I ate roasted potatoes with chopped up hot dog and chili sauce out of a baggie and couldn’t get enough. Then there was the shredded vegetable and fruit parfait. Shredded beets, mango, zucchini and cucumber with chili powder sprinkled on top. The fruit and veggies were fresh and flavorful but the juice they made with the chili powder was just as tasty. That trip to Santa Rita changed my whole way of thinking about “street food” and led me to be more adventurous and appreciative.
Vendors come in all varieties and it seems you can find almost anything to eat. The part I really like is that the food is all fresh. Outside the apartment in Guadalajara there is a vendor that sets up shop every afternoon selling fruit parfaits with chunked fruit. Everywhere you go there is an ice cream vendor and the ice cream is always homemade. On a recent visit to Talaquepaque we had to search out the ice cream store after seeing a family walk by with their cones. Now it was a Saturday afternoon and it was time for a michelada (red beer with lime and salsa) but we opted for ice cream instead, that’s how inviting it looked. Anyway while they were dishing up our cones we were watching the guy behind the counter mixing up the ice cream by hand with a large paddle. There are the fried banana vendors and the potato chip vendors. Many times while visiting the paint store we would see the chip vendor leaving for the day pushing his cart loaded with fresh homemade chips out onto the street to start selling.
Shaved ice is another option with a wide variety of fresh toppings like pecan, mango, raspberry, kiwi, coffee an eggnog like concoction and at least a dozen total.
On the plazas of Guadalajara Centro there are the vendors that sell steamed veggies where you can get cups or plates of steamed corn, broccoli, beets and cactus. You can either get a variety or tell them what you want like more corn and less beets. Then its topped with crumbled cheese and of course salsa. On a chilly evening it’s a treat to eat the warm veggies and then slurp down the juices.
Then of course there is chicharon – which I will surely never, ever be a fan of. Chicharon comes in two basic forms from what I can tell. Fried with the texture of styrofoam or pickled with the texture of slimy rubber. It seems that everyone I meet loves their chicharon and eats it smothered with tomatoes, onions and of course slasa. I did sample the chicharon ice cream in Dolores Hidalgo thinking that it would have the flavor but not the texture – the face I made and the gagging that followed had everyone laughing for days. The flavor is not so bad it’s the texture that gets to me and the ice cream had actual chicharon ground up in it. And in case you didn’t know chicharon is pig skin. Mmmmmm.
Ears of corn roasted or steamed and then brushed with cream and sprinkled with chili powder – WOW. At the height of the corn season there was a truck that would cruise around San Diego de Alejandria with loud speakers mounted to the roof announcing he had elote for sale. Selling fresh steamed corn out of the back of his truck this guy was driving around town for weeks.
Now the neatest vendor set up I just encountered last weekend while writing this story – the sweet potato man. He pushes a cart with a wood fire oven burning, roasting the sweet potatoes in their own natural sugars till they are soft and golden brown, slightly crisped from the oven. What makes the whole thing so cool is that when the steam builds up enough in the oven the exhaust chimney on the cart will go off like a train whistle. This is how the sweet potato man announces that he is on your street corner.
Now I spent my working life dealing with food, owning restaurants, a wholesale bakery, catering service and completing my career in a hospital food service. Hospital foodservice is a place where sanitation standards are greatly enforced because like a wise man once told me – these people are already sick, you don’t want to be responsible for making them worse. There are a lot of rules for safe food handling in the States but what I see with all these vendors is that they, with their buckets of clean water just use common sense and do what’s right. I once had this crazy business partner and one night he found a container of moldy mushrooms on the cooks’ line. At which point he started to pull everything from the coolers throwing the contents on the floor. At the end of his tirade he was sitting on the floor crying that we were going to poison our guests. Now no one in their right mind would have served those mushrooms and I relate this story to the street vendors and how they do what’s best to keep their business alive. In all my travels to Mexico I have only had food poisoning once and that was after eating in a restaurant, and we decided that it was from the manufactured, bottled salsa. There were three of us eating that day, we all had the same thing to eat, and each of us was sick and was sick to the amount of salsa we had used.
“Fast Food” isn’t limited to the streets though, for more of a restaurant, sit down service type atmosphere in Guadalajara there is Karne Girbaldi. Karne Girbaldi is recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records as having the fastest service in the world. And seriously within five minutes of sitting down we had our entrees before us. As we approached our table the waiters were already converging with tortilla chips and a refried bean dip that you can’t stop eating. Its refried beans, hominy, chili’s and it’s all cooked up with bacon grease – what could be better. You know it might have taken us longer, just by a second, to get our drinks than it did our food.
So be adventurous, there is a lot of good food out there to be enjoyed.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Guanajuato - Festival Internacional Cervantino
Festival Internacional Cervantino 2010
Guanajuato
One of my favorite cities in Mexico is most certainly Guanajuato (GTO), a UNESCO World Heritage City. GTO has been a major player in the history of Mexico, located in the mountains; the city gained its wealth and power from the many silver mines in the area.
On my first visit a couple of years ago we had traveled across the sierra and approached the city from the countryside. We passed many of the now abandoned mines on the way, but true to the Mexican way of doing business we were able to tour one that was closed to the public. By tipping the caretaker 50 pesos at the main gate, then going around to a side entrance we were able to take a private tour. Not sure how long it had been closed down but the equipment still seemed to be in place and the grounds mostly maintained. The layout was that of a crown. The open shaft, we threw rocks down, and waited an eternity to hear hit bottom was located in the center. The walls surrounding the shaft and work areas were peaked at intervals to represent the points of the royal crown.
On that trip we made our way down into the city which I can only describe as medieval. GTO is built into the mountains with buildings stacked one upon the other. The streets are narrow meandering and steep. Then there are the tunnels. The tunnels just plain fascinate me. The city was originally built over a river, which flowed through tunnels underneath. However, after years of raising buildings to accommodate repeated flooding engineers built a dam and redirected the river into underground caverns. The tunnels were then lit and paved with cobblestones for automobile traffic and parking. The underground roads carry the majority of cars driving through the city today and are just fun to explore.
GTO is a city where the history of Mexico is alive in every stone. The Alhóndiga de Granaditas, what was originally the public granary and now a museum figures largely in Mexican history. When Miguel Hidalgo's insurgent troops threatened to take over the city in October 1810 at the start of the Mexican War of Independence some 500 rich crillos took refuge inside the fortress like walls of the Alhóndiga. In the caste system of what was New Spain the crillos were those of pure Spanish descent born in the New World and viewed as the oppressors of the native people and those of mixed race. When the Alhóndiga was finally stormed all 500 were massacred and the city was pillaged.
Eventually the first insurgents of the revolution fell and the four main leaders — Miguel Hidalgo, Ignacio Allende, Juan Aldama, and José Mariano Jiménez were beheaded. Their heads were hung from the four corners of the Alhóndiga in metal cages to discourage other independence movements. Their heads would remain hanging there for ten years, until Mexico achieved its independence.
Guanajuato is the site each year of Festival Internacional Cervantino, started in 1972, a festival of performing arts and culture celebrating the works of Miguel de Cervantes (Don Quijote). The festival takes place in October over the course of three weeks and features world-class performances by international and Mexican artists, in music, dance, theater, visual arts, and street-performance. Every year the festival invites a country of honor, as well as a specific Mexican state. This year the honors going to Argentina, Chile and Columbia with Mexico being represented by the states of Queretaro, Michoacan and Chihuahua
Upon entering the city that Saturday night I was immediately astounded by the throngs of people. The few streets that were open to cars were packed with people and parking was nonexistent. Eventually finding a place to park we started to walk back to the main part of the festival, with the great big giant October harvest moon sitting on the mountain above the city. Again I was struck with the incredible mass of people as we walked down the narrow streets which with the tall buildings on each side only seemed to magnify the crowd. Being it was a Saturday night the place had the feel more of Mardi Gras than a cultural arts experience. But the very visible police presence and the ban on drinking in the streets kept the crowd in order while still being extremely festive.
There were street performances of all types, the first we came upon were the leather clad, silver studded mythical fighters of the Zena, Warrior Princess genre. They had spent a lot of time and money on their uniforms and weapons but had failed to polish their lethargic routine. When broadswords are clashing in sparks of metal upon metal and it makes you giggle something has gone wrong.
The belly dancers up the street weren't bad though.
Then there was the Asian fellow with his computerized, digitzed, electronic combination flute and keyboard thingy that was putting out a very loud, hypnotic, techno sound with pyshedelic images projecting on the trees surrounding the gazebo where he was performing. To show what a diverse crowd is at Cervantino here is a guy playing this new age trance electronica and you have the old school mariachis sitting on the benches in their traditional uniforms watching him perform. And on the corner is a group playing Banda music for the crowd and across the street the traditional Cervantino musicians are performing their act.
A couple in another plaza were signing beautiful love songs with each other in an operatic style while down the street from them the homeless were performing. The homeless were outstanding. They were well put together, well played, full of energy, extremely fun and had the crowd going.
Next to the main theatre of Guanajuato, the Teatro Juarez, there is the Church of San Diego. This is where the various competing goups that were the traditional entertainers of Cervantino start their shows and lead their audience up through the winding “streets” of the city. I say “streets” because in many cases the street is nothing more than a sidewalk, or a flight of stairs and sometimes so narrow that you can pass through only by single file. I have always thought it would be terrific to live in GTO but wonder just how do you get your furniture to your house and where do you park your car.
Before we began our journey with these strolling troubadours we could see the giant stone statue of El Pípila illuminated on the hill above the church. Pípila was so named because of a birth defect that caused him to walk like a pipila or hen turkey. At the beginning of the War for Independance when the Spanish had barricaded themselves inside the Alhóndiga against the insurgents it was Pípila, an unlikely hero who made it possible to breach the entrance. With a long, flat stone tied on his back to protect him from the rock and gun fire of the Spanish troops above, Pípila carried tar and a torch to the door of the Alhóndiga and set it on fire, burning it down and allowing the insurgents entry.
That night the Cervatino group we were following would stop and play songs, tell jokes and point out the sites as we made our way up the city. Tradition was that they would stop below the balcony of their true love and sing until the young lady would appear. Guanajuato is a most enchanting city at night with the lights of the University, the Cathedral and numerous churches, homes and streets. That night the full harvest moon sitting above the city in the clear sky made it even more beautiful and you could almost imagine you had traveled back some four or five hundred years.
We had arrived around 19:30 and left GTO at 2 in the morning, as we left the party had settled down but was still going strong with most of the businesses remaining open. Considering the mass of people most shops were doing a brisk business but we had taken advantage of the free entertainment and had done very little to support the economy aside from paying for parking. That is something I have learned about Mexico there seems to be free entertainment where ever you go and usually you have a variety of choices. Lasting three weeks and with over 2,000 artists participating I know this was just a glimpse of what Festival Cervantino has to offer. Not sure if we’ll make it back this year but it is certainly on the calendar for next October.
Guanajuato
One of my favorite cities in Mexico is most certainly Guanajuato (GTO), a UNESCO World Heritage City. GTO has been a major player in the history of Mexico, located in the mountains; the city gained its wealth and power from the many silver mines in the area.
On my first visit a couple of years ago we had traveled across the sierra and approached the city from the countryside. We passed many of the now abandoned mines on the way, but true to the Mexican way of doing business we were able to tour one that was closed to the public. By tipping the caretaker 50 pesos at the main gate, then going around to a side entrance we were able to take a private tour. Not sure how long it had been closed down but the equipment still seemed to be in place and the grounds mostly maintained. The layout was that of a crown. The open shaft, we threw rocks down, and waited an eternity to hear hit bottom was located in the center. The walls surrounding the shaft and work areas were peaked at intervals to represent the points of the royal crown.
On that trip we made our way down into the city which I can only describe as medieval. GTO is built into the mountains with buildings stacked one upon the other. The streets are narrow meandering and steep. Then there are the tunnels. The tunnels just plain fascinate me. The city was originally built over a river, which flowed through tunnels underneath. However, after years of raising buildings to accommodate repeated flooding engineers built a dam and redirected the river into underground caverns. The tunnels were then lit and paved with cobblestones for automobile traffic and parking. The underground roads carry the majority of cars driving through the city today and are just fun to explore.
GTO is a city where the history of Mexico is alive in every stone. The Alhóndiga de Granaditas, what was originally the public granary and now a museum figures largely in Mexican history. When Miguel Hidalgo's insurgent troops threatened to take over the city in October 1810 at the start of the Mexican War of Independence some 500 rich crillos took refuge inside the fortress like walls of the Alhóndiga. In the caste system of what was New Spain the crillos were those of pure Spanish descent born in the New World and viewed as the oppressors of the native people and those of mixed race. When the Alhóndiga was finally stormed all 500 were massacred and the city was pillaged.
Eventually the first insurgents of the revolution fell and the four main leaders — Miguel Hidalgo, Ignacio Allende, Juan Aldama, and José Mariano Jiménez were beheaded. Their heads were hung from the four corners of the Alhóndiga in metal cages to discourage other independence movements. Their heads would remain hanging there for ten years, until Mexico achieved its independence.
Guanajuato is the site each year of Festival Internacional Cervantino, started in 1972, a festival of performing arts and culture celebrating the works of Miguel de Cervantes (Don Quijote). The festival takes place in October over the course of three weeks and features world-class performances by international and Mexican artists, in music, dance, theater, visual arts, and street-performance. Every year the festival invites a country of honor, as well as a specific Mexican state. This year the honors going to Argentina, Chile and Columbia with Mexico being represented by the states of Queretaro, Michoacan and Chihuahua
Upon entering the city that Saturday night I was immediately astounded by the throngs of people. The few streets that were open to cars were packed with people and parking was nonexistent. Eventually finding a place to park we started to walk back to the main part of the festival, with the great big giant October harvest moon sitting on the mountain above the city. Again I was struck with the incredible mass of people as we walked down the narrow streets which with the tall buildings on each side only seemed to magnify the crowd. Being it was a Saturday night the place had the feel more of Mardi Gras than a cultural arts experience. But the very visible police presence and the ban on drinking in the streets kept the crowd in order while still being extremely festive.
There were street performances of all types, the first we came upon were the leather clad, silver studded mythical fighters of the Zena, Warrior Princess genre. They had spent a lot of time and money on their uniforms and weapons but had failed to polish their lethargic routine. When broadswords are clashing in sparks of metal upon metal and it makes you giggle something has gone wrong.
The belly dancers up the street weren't bad though.
Then there was the Asian fellow with his computerized, digitzed, electronic combination flute and keyboard thingy that was putting out a very loud, hypnotic, techno sound with pyshedelic images projecting on the trees surrounding the gazebo where he was performing. To show what a diverse crowd is at Cervantino here is a guy playing this new age trance electronica and you have the old school mariachis sitting on the benches in their traditional uniforms watching him perform. And on the corner is a group playing Banda music for the crowd and across the street the traditional Cervantino musicians are performing their act.
A couple in another plaza were signing beautiful love songs with each other in an operatic style while down the street from them the homeless were performing. The homeless were outstanding. They were well put together, well played, full of energy, extremely fun and had the crowd going.
Next to the main theatre of Guanajuato, the Teatro Juarez, there is the Church of San Diego. This is where the various competing goups that were the traditional entertainers of Cervantino start their shows and lead their audience up through the winding “streets” of the city. I say “streets” because in many cases the street is nothing more than a sidewalk, or a flight of stairs and sometimes so narrow that you can pass through only by single file. I have always thought it would be terrific to live in GTO but wonder just how do you get your furniture to your house and where do you park your car.
Before we began our journey with these strolling troubadours we could see the giant stone statue of El Pípila illuminated on the hill above the church. Pípila was so named because of a birth defect that caused him to walk like a pipila or hen turkey. At the beginning of the War for Independance when the Spanish had barricaded themselves inside the Alhóndiga against the insurgents it was Pípila, an unlikely hero who made it possible to breach the entrance. With a long, flat stone tied on his back to protect him from the rock and gun fire of the Spanish troops above, Pípila carried tar and a torch to the door of the Alhóndiga and set it on fire, burning it down and allowing the insurgents entry.
That night the Cervatino group we were following would stop and play songs, tell jokes and point out the sites as we made our way up the city. Tradition was that they would stop below the balcony of their true love and sing until the young lady would appear. Guanajuato is a most enchanting city at night with the lights of the University, the Cathedral and numerous churches, homes and streets. That night the full harvest moon sitting above the city in the clear sky made it even more beautiful and you could almost imagine you had traveled back some four or five hundred years.
We had arrived around 19:30 and left GTO at 2 in the morning, as we left the party had settled down but was still going strong with most of the businesses remaining open. Considering the mass of people most shops were doing a brisk business but we had taken advantage of the free entertainment and had done very little to support the economy aside from paying for parking. That is something I have learned about Mexico there seems to be free entertainment where ever you go and usually you have a variety of choices. Lasting three weeks and with over 2,000 artists participating I know this was just a glimpse of what Festival Cervantino has to offer. Not sure if we’ll make it back this year but it is certainly on the calendar for next October.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Unexpected Adventure
You just never know what is going to happen somedays. It was another Sunday afternoon and we were out exploring the Mexican countryside and the towns that happen to come our way.
Each time we set out on one of these Sunday outings my friends always exclaim, "Clark, new road for you!!!"
We had stopped in the town of Pedrita where the railroad passes through. I was out taking photos of the old train facility that still has the water tower used to service the steam locomotives in their day. That tracks are still in use and that day a train loaded with new cars from the GM Plant in Silao was working its way onto the siding.
While the train was maneuvering it blocked traffic for a time at the railroad crossing and the vehicles began to back up. I think this experience was a great example of how folks in the erea react to the unexpected. People just got out of their cars and walked up to the tracks watching the train, talking to each other, having a few drinks and just enjoying themselves. The atmosphere was more like an impromptu party rather than an inconvenience.
An elderly lady that had been walking back into town and found the train blocking her way struck up a conversation with my friends. She was entertaining them with stories of the old days when there were passenger trains and you could ride to Mexico City and how folks from all over the country would pass through their little town.
After some time the crew disconnected the last eight cars and cleared the crossing so that traffic could be on its way. We wre still talking to folks and I was now photographing the graffiti on the side of the freight cars. Now I know that graffiti is vandalism but some of it is truly works of art and some of it is extremely humorous. I would have to say that there is considerable talent, time and effort in some of the graffiti.
After all the vehicles had cleared the engine came back down the mainline picking up the work crew and dropping them off at the crossing. Like little kids we were just standing there fascinated with everything going on when one of the crew leaving the engine told us to go on up.
Seriously ???
Yes, seriously.
They were telling us to go on up into the cab of the lead engine.
Giddy as little schoolgirls and practically climbing over each other the four of us clambered up on the engine. Everybody was talking and smiling from ear to ear and here I am snapping photos as quick as possible thinking that it isnt going to last long. That is when I realized that we were moving.
WOW!!! Not only were we gettiung to go inside the cab but we were going for a ride!!! Train engines are loud when they pass you but inside the cab it was quiet, cold from the air conditioning and smooth, really smooth. So smooth that it did take a few moments to register that we were moving. At first that was only evident from the passing town and countryside outside the windows. There was literally no sense of movement until the engine had picked up speed.
If you have ever been on a passenger train you know that the ride is not exactly smooth. A few years ago on a misguided Amtrak journey from Omaha to Chicago the cars rolled so badly from side to side that it was dangerous to walk the aisle. The feeling was more like being on a ship in rough seas than a train on firm ground.
Thinking about this experience, about how much time we spent watching the train and then how excited we all were to climb on board I just have to ask what it is about trains that capture our fascination. Some of my favorite memories in life have revolved around trains.
As a small kid my Mom and I would ride the Burlington Northern from Omaha to Creston, Iowa where my grandparents would pick us up for our visits to the farm. Then there was a short line freight that crossed their property everyday around 4pm and I would be out there waving to the crew in the engine and the caboose as they passed by.
That misguided Amtrak ride to Chicago was a joy because of my traveling companion but the delays and inefficiencies of Amtrak have made me reconsider ever traveling that way again.
There was the rail trip to Machu Picchu, sitting in the front seat, gazing out the window, watching the Urabamba River and the ruins along the Inca trail pass by.
When living in Omaha I would bike the Wabash Trace from Council Bluffs, Iowa. This is an abandoned rail line that has been converted into a biking trail and gives you a view of the countryside and small towns of Iowa that you would never see by car.
The closest experience I had to this one in Mexico was on a summer visit to my friends cabin in Canada which was located near the tracks of the Canadian National Railroad. Over the years we had spent many hours walking the tracks and trestles through the forests and over the lakes of Ontario. There is a good sized tunnel located not far down the tracks and one night we thought it would be cool to stand in the tunnel when a train passed through. Looking back it was probably the Canadian beer that led us to make this decision. It actually turned out to be rather anticlimatic as the train that passed through that night was a VIA Rail passenger train and the lights from the cars lit the tunnel up like high noon. The real excitement took place when a work crew passed through prior to the VIA Rail. Sensing that it was not a train approaching we had all taken cover in the bushes surrounding the tunnel entrance. When the crew stopped their vehicle and called out to us we all slowly crept out, one by one. They were like the crew in Mexico, taking the time to stop, talk, they smoked a few cigarettes and then let us know when the next train was scheduled to pass through.
All these train encounters are great memories to me but none are quite the experience as that Sunday afternoon ride in Mexico. It was just so unexpected. We still could not contain ourselves as we exited the cab telling the engineer gracias and shaking his hand. Talking to the rest of the crew, telling them mucho, mucho gracias and how great it was for them to take the time to entertain us and allow four grown adults feel like little kids.
Please scroll down to the bottom of the page for photos of our train adventure
Each time we set out on one of these Sunday outings my friends always exclaim, "Clark, new road for you!!!"
We had stopped in the town of Pedrita where the railroad passes through. I was out taking photos of the old train facility that still has the water tower used to service the steam locomotives in their day. That tracks are still in use and that day a train loaded with new cars from the GM Plant in Silao was working its way onto the siding.
While the train was maneuvering it blocked traffic for a time at the railroad crossing and the vehicles began to back up. I think this experience was a great example of how folks in the erea react to the unexpected. People just got out of their cars and walked up to the tracks watching the train, talking to each other, having a few drinks and just enjoying themselves. The atmosphere was more like an impromptu party rather than an inconvenience.
An elderly lady that had been walking back into town and found the train blocking her way struck up a conversation with my friends. She was entertaining them with stories of the old days when there were passenger trains and you could ride to Mexico City and how folks from all over the country would pass through their little town.
After some time the crew disconnected the last eight cars and cleared the crossing so that traffic could be on its way. We wre still talking to folks and I was now photographing the graffiti on the side of the freight cars. Now I know that graffiti is vandalism but some of it is truly works of art and some of it is extremely humorous. I would have to say that there is considerable talent, time and effort in some of the graffiti.
After all the vehicles had cleared the engine came back down the mainline picking up the work crew and dropping them off at the crossing. Like little kids we were just standing there fascinated with everything going on when one of the crew leaving the engine told us to go on up.
Seriously ???
Yes, seriously.
They were telling us to go on up into the cab of the lead engine.
Giddy as little schoolgirls and practically climbing over each other the four of us clambered up on the engine. Everybody was talking and smiling from ear to ear and here I am snapping photos as quick as possible thinking that it isnt going to last long. That is when I realized that we were moving.
WOW!!! Not only were we gettiung to go inside the cab but we were going for a ride!!! Train engines are loud when they pass you but inside the cab it was quiet, cold from the air conditioning and smooth, really smooth. So smooth that it did take a few moments to register that we were moving. At first that was only evident from the passing town and countryside outside the windows. There was literally no sense of movement until the engine had picked up speed.
If you have ever been on a passenger train you know that the ride is not exactly smooth. A few years ago on a misguided Amtrak journey from Omaha to Chicago the cars rolled so badly from side to side that it was dangerous to walk the aisle. The feeling was more like being on a ship in rough seas than a train on firm ground.
Thinking about this experience, about how much time we spent watching the train and then how excited we all were to climb on board I just have to ask what it is about trains that capture our fascination. Some of my favorite memories in life have revolved around trains.
As a small kid my Mom and I would ride the Burlington Northern from Omaha to Creston, Iowa where my grandparents would pick us up for our visits to the farm. Then there was a short line freight that crossed their property everyday around 4pm and I would be out there waving to the crew in the engine and the caboose as they passed by.
That misguided Amtrak ride to Chicago was a joy because of my traveling companion but the delays and inefficiencies of Amtrak have made me reconsider ever traveling that way again.
There was the rail trip to Machu Picchu, sitting in the front seat, gazing out the window, watching the Urabamba River and the ruins along the Inca trail pass by.
When living in Omaha I would bike the Wabash Trace from Council Bluffs, Iowa. This is an abandoned rail line that has been converted into a biking trail and gives you a view of the countryside and small towns of Iowa that you would never see by car.
The closest experience I had to this one in Mexico was on a summer visit to my friends cabin in Canada which was located near the tracks of the Canadian National Railroad. Over the years we had spent many hours walking the tracks and trestles through the forests and over the lakes of Ontario. There is a good sized tunnel located not far down the tracks and one night we thought it would be cool to stand in the tunnel when a train passed through. Looking back it was probably the Canadian beer that led us to make this decision. It actually turned out to be rather anticlimatic as the train that passed through that night was a VIA Rail passenger train and the lights from the cars lit the tunnel up like high noon. The real excitement took place when a work crew passed through prior to the VIA Rail. Sensing that it was not a train approaching we had all taken cover in the bushes surrounding the tunnel entrance. When the crew stopped their vehicle and called out to us we all slowly crept out, one by one. They were like the crew in Mexico, taking the time to stop, talk, they smoked a few cigarettes and then let us know when the next train was scheduled to pass through.
All these train encounters are great memories to me but none are quite the experience as that Sunday afternoon ride in Mexico. It was just so unexpected. We still could not contain ourselves as we exited the cab telling the engineer gracias and shaking his hand. Talking to the rest of the crew, telling them mucho, mucho gracias and how great it was for them to take the time to entertain us and allow four grown adults feel like little kids.
Please scroll down to the bottom of the page for photos of our train adventure
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sense of Place - Part II
Sense of Place – Part II
They say that when you die your life flashes before you. Praise God I have not been in that situation, but standing in the Mexican countryside on a Friday night gazing up at the stars your life does begin to flash before you. Maybe it’s the piece of mind or the ability to relax that has me remembering events in my life even back to when I was a child. Or maybe it’s just taking the time to watch the sky and reflect. I have always felt myself to be fairly self aware but my journey to Mexico has given me the opportunity to really learn about who I am and who I had become over the years.
That night the stars of the Milky Way were so bright and distinct you could have counted each and every one of them, with every single star representing an event in my life. Some memorable, others I would rather not have to think about. But you know it’s all these experiences that add up to make us who we are.
This part of the country is considered the sierras, high plains or alto plano with folks being called altenos. If my geology lessons serve me well the landscape appears to have been formed by glaciers and volcanic activity. We tend to end up a lot of times in the canyon area north of town. On our side you enter the canyon by a steep switch back road while to the south east the valley flattens out into the next valley and on the north side you exit through rolling hills. The landscape is full of flat topped mesas and conical shaped hills. It’s that changing terrain and altitude that offers so much too watch. At one point on the highway you are at such an altitude that you can see the sun reflecting off the buildings of Leon, a good hour drive away.
I think it’s the landscape and the sky that lends itself to reflection and meditation; there is always so much to see that it just mesmerizes you. After an impromptu picnic by the side of the road one afternoon I rediscovered the joy of lying back in the grass and simply watching the clouds float by. I don’t believe I had done that since I was a teenager and thought to myself “how freaking great is this”. A recent Sunday found the family loaded up in the car and off we headed to spend the afternoon by the stream that runs through the canyon area. We had tables, chairs and food but mainly we spent the afternoon just sitting in the stream and letting the warm water flow over us.
It seems the countryside is different here than back in Nebraska and Iowa. Over the last few years on journeys through the rural areas of those two states it felt quiet, lifeless. No sounds of livestock, birds or even insects. Rural towns in the States feel dead with boarded up buildings and the people that do live there closed up indoors. The kids aren’t even out playing in the streets. I say it’s immense here but you are never alone in the countryside, people live here, they work here and seem to be more connected with the outdoors. Tonight I saw the most beautiful thing on our way home; a young man was sitting outside a “convenience store” here in town with his date while his horse was tethered next to them. There are many what we would call “old fashioned values” in this town but I have to say they are good, proper values. Besides values there is a true horse culture here with folks using their horses for both transportation and to work the land. I recently read an article on “Century Farms” in the States. These are working farms that have been operated by the original family for 100 years or more; and they are very few of them left. Here you have farms and property that has been in the same family for multiple centuries.
It was another Friday night and we had been to the canyon area to collect rocks for the garden at the house. Because of how the terrain was formed the selection of rocks is endless from limestone to slate, to volcanic, to white, red, black or rounded river rocks.
They are just there lying by the side of road to be collected. After filling a pickup full of rocks we stopped at our favorite “convenience store” in the canyon (see picture below) for a couple of beers. As we were sitting on the tree stump chairs under the corrugated tin roof a storm started to blow across the canyon. We watched it for some time as it approached, being so dense with rain that it totally obscured the mountains in the background. We should have headed to the car sooner when the hail and the rain started to pelt us and the water started to rush down the road. By the time we made the dash ten feet to the pickup all three of us were drenched.
It’s the sky and the landscape that capture you here. They are always changing and inviting your imagination and life’s reflection. Next week it’s a short posting on the “Ride of My Life”
They say that when you die your life flashes before you. Praise God I have not been in that situation, but standing in the Mexican countryside on a Friday night gazing up at the stars your life does begin to flash before you. Maybe it’s the piece of mind or the ability to relax that has me remembering events in my life even back to when I was a child. Or maybe it’s just taking the time to watch the sky and reflect. I have always felt myself to be fairly self aware but my journey to Mexico has given me the opportunity to really learn about who I am and who I had become over the years.
That night the stars of the Milky Way were so bright and distinct you could have counted each and every one of them, with every single star representing an event in my life. Some memorable, others I would rather not have to think about. But you know it’s all these experiences that add up to make us who we are.
This part of the country is considered the sierras, high plains or alto plano with folks being called altenos. If my geology lessons serve me well the landscape appears to have been formed by glaciers and volcanic activity. We tend to end up a lot of times in the canyon area north of town. On our side you enter the canyon by a steep switch back road while to the south east the valley flattens out into the next valley and on the north side you exit through rolling hills. The landscape is full of flat topped mesas and conical shaped hills. It’s that changing terrain and altitude that offers so much too watch. At one point on the highway you are at such an altitude that you can see the sun reflecting off the buildings of Leon, a good hour drive away.
I think it’s the landscape and the sky that lends itself to reflection and meditation; there is always so much to see that it just mesmerizes you. After an impromptu picnic by the side of the road one afternoon I rediscovered the joy of lying back in the grass and simply watching the clouds float by. I don’t believe I had done that since I was a teenager and thought to myself “how freaking great is this”. A recent Sunday found the family loaded up in the car and off we headed to spend the afternoon by the stream that runs through the canyon area. We had tables, chairs and food but mainly we spent the afternoon just sitting in the stream and letting the warm water flow over us.
It seems the countryside is different here than back in Nebraska and Iowa. Over the last few years on journeys through the rural areas of those two states it felt quiet, lifeless. No sounds of livestock, birds or even insects. Rural towns in the States feel dead with boarded up buildings and the people that do live there closed up indoors. The kids aren’t even out playing in the streets. I say it’s immense here but you are never alone in the countryside, people live here, they work here and seem to be more connected with the outdoors. Tonight I saw the most beautiful thing on our way home; a young man was sitting outside a “convenience store” here in town with his date while his horse was tethered next to them. There are many what we would call “old fashioned values” in this town but I have to say they are good, proper values. Besides values there is a true horse culture here with folks using their horses for both transportation and to work the land. I recently read an article on “Century Farms” in the States. These are working farms that have been operated by the original family for 100 years or more; and they are very few of them left. Here you have farms and property that has been in the same family for multiple centuries.
It was another Friday night and we had been to the canyon area to collect rocks for the garden at the house. Because of how the terrain was formed the selection of rocks is endless from limestone to slate, to volcanic, to white, red, black or rounded river rocks.
They are just there lying by the side of road to be collected. After filling a pickup full of rocks we stopped at our favorite “convenience store” in the canyon (see picture below) for a couple of beers. As we were sitting on the tree stump chairs under the corrugated tin roof a storm started to blow across the canyon. We watched it for some time as it approached, being so dense with rain that it totally obscured the mountains in the background. We should have headed to the car sooner when the hail and the rain started to pelt us and the water started to rush down the road. By the time we made the dash ten feet to the pickup all three of us were drenched.
It’s the sky and the landscape that capture you here. They are always changing and inviting your imagination and life’s reflection. Next week it’s a short posting on the “Ride of My Life”
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
DuPont Pinturas
DuPont Pinturas
Since the move to Mexico I have not been to the movie theater and have rarely watched TV except for the occasional 10 o’clock news. Oh we can’t forget the World Cup Games that Mexico played in. We have been watching a lot of movies on DVD that we pick up at the market where they are priced 3 for 50 pesos. Today I did splurge and buy X-Men 3 for 25 pesos – it’s a clone of the original. Yes we are buying pirated copies but if you get a bad copy you just go back, tell the vendor you’ll report him to the police and they are happy to refund or replace the DVD. The funniest thing is you can purchase first run movies before they are even released in the theater. The quality is generally very good and we have had only one where it was so bad as to be laughable. The film must have had a pretty cheap budget to begin with (Splice) and the DVD was actually recorded in the theater. The first part of the movie had a finger obscuring the top right hand side of the screen. At another point you could hear the audience laughing during a scene that was never meant to be funny and during the credits you could see the shadows of people getting up to leave the theater. What this movie lacked in production the pirated copy luckily made up for in entertainment value.
When it comes to entertainment sometimes all you really need to do is go to your local paint store. The house I am living in is currently under a major renovation so there have been many trips to the paint store. At first I realized there was a difference and was intrigued, then on subsequent visits frustrated and finally I appreciated just how much entertainment and hours of conversation we were getting with each gallon purchased. This will be one of those stories filed under “Things Work Differently Here”
Now before I go any further I want to make it perfectly clear that I have the utmost respect for everyone that I have met. Because that is what everyone has always shown me, nothing but kindness and respect. But, sometimes people and life are just funny. It’s not that it’s wrong, it’s just the way it is and sometimes with the way my mind works……….
Yes we have Home Depot and Wal-Mart where you can go in and just grab a can of paint or get your color made special with the latest paint making technology. The thing is those stores are considerably more expensive than your neighborhood store which is just the opposite of the States.
On that first visit to the DuPont Paint Store I became intrigued. Our order was simple; a color was picked from the color swatches – dark green, flat, oil based. After some time mixing paints the young girl helping us produced a plastic container like you would get potato salad in at the deli. After returning to the house we found the paint was so dark as to be almost black and it dried to a glossy finish. So back we went. Twice. In the end the color was almost there but still glossy.
It’s important for you to know that they use no automation, no machines to measure out the tints and hues and no machine to mix the paint. The color you want is made by combining various colors of paint till yours is reached. This can be a very interesting and drawn out process. If it’s too dark add more white if it isn’t red enough add more red if it needs to be flat add a matte liquid. It’s all mixed by hand, even the five gallon buckets are mixed by hand with what looks like a baseball bat. By the way all this hand mixing makes a mess and the buckets are covered with paint, so dress appropriately and have protection for your vehicle. We have visited another local paint store and this is how it works although they seemed to be a bit more efficient. I also found that you don’t just go home and paint, when you get it home you need to either add water or paint thinner. The gallon of white paint we had was thick like pudding and that one gallon can seemed to weigh at least thirty pounds.
The store we frequent is a family owned business and sometimes family business takes precedence over paint business. Kids are running in and out, to and from school, asking for snacks, money, keys, etc…When mom isn’t there your paint doesn’t get mixed for the most part. The daughter really works at being helpful; the dad is there but usually defers to the mom. And there is the son that works off to one side of the store mixing paint for the auto body shops. Again, by hand. He just quietly works, observing everything, never talking much, never getting involved in all the activity that is going on, because this place is busy.
On a subsequent visit a swatch of color was chosen and the paint was produced for approval. That’s when the questions started, is it right, is it too dark, is it too light. After much discussion back and forth it took me to be the voice of reason and repeatedly ask “where’s the swatch?” At first it couldn’t be located but when it was eventually found the color wasn’t even close.
Another time we dropped off two five gallon buckets to be made and they were ready in an hour and were a perfect match. The next time mom wasn’t there so the paint was delivered to our town later that afternoon – totally wrong in color and price.
At this point all the painting is complete, but every time we drive by our paint store someone will comment and it becomes the subject of conversation for awhile.
Since the move to Mexico I have not been to the movie theater and have rarely watched TV except for the occasional 10 o’clock news. Oh we can’t forget the World Cup Games that Mexico played in. We have been watching a lot of movies on DVD that we pick up at the market where they are priced 3 for 50 pesos. Today I did splurge and buy X-Men 3 for 25 pesos – it’s a clone of the original. Yes we are buying pirated copies but if you get a bad copy you just go back, tell the vendor you’ll report him to the police and they are happy to refund or replace the DVD. The funniest thing is you can purchase first run movies before they are even released in the theater. The quality is generally very good and we have had only one where it was so bad as to be laughable. The film must have had a pretty cheap budget to begin with (Splice) and the DVD was actually recorded in the theater. The first part of the movie had a finger obscuring the top right hand side of the screen. At another point you could hear the audience laughing during a scene that was never meant to be funny and during the credits you could see the shadows of people getting up to leave the theater. What this movie lacked in production the pirated copy luckily made up for in entertainment value.
When it comes to entertainment sometimes all you really need to do is go to your local paint store. The house I am living in is currently under a major renovation so there have been many trips to the paint store. At first I realized there was a difference and was intrigued, then on subsequent visits frustrated and finally I appreciated just how much entertainment and hours of conversation we were getting with each gallon purchased. This will be one of those stories filed under “Things Work Differently Here”
Now before I go any further I want to make it perfectly clear that I have the utmost respect for everyone that I have met. Because that is what everyone has always shown me, nothing but kindness and respect. But, sometimes people and life are just funny. It’s not that it’s wrong, it’s just the way it is and sometimes with the way my mind works……….
Yes we have Home Depot and Wal-Mart where you can go in and just grab a can of paint or get your color made special with the latest paint making technology. The thing is those stores are considerably more expensive than your neighborhood store which is just the opposite of the States.
On that first visit to the DuPont Paint Store I became intrigued. Our order was simple; a color was picked from the color swatches – dark green, flat, oil based. After some time mixing paints the young girl helping us produced a plastic container like you would get potato salad in at the deli. After returning to the house we found the paint was so dark as to be almost black and it dried to a glossy finish. So back we went. Twice. In the end the color was almost there but still glossy.
It’s important for you to know that they use no automation, no machines to measure out the tints and hues and no machine to mix the paint. The color you want is made by combining various colors of paint till yours is reached. This can be a very interesting and drawn out process. If it’s too dark add more white if it isn’t red enough add more red if it needs to be flat add a matte liquid. It’s all mixed by hand, even the five gallon buckets are mixed by hand with what looks like a baseball bat. By the way all this hand mixing makes a mess and the buckets are covered with paint, so dress appropriately and have protection for your vehicle. We have visited another local paint store and this is how it works although they seemed to be a bit more efficient. I also found that you don’t just go home and paint, when you get it home you need to either add water or paint thinner. The gallon of white paint we had was thick like pudding and that one gallon can seemed to weigh at least thirty pounds.
The store we frequent is a family owned business and sometimes family business takes precedence over paint business. Kids are running in and out, to and from school, asking for snacks, money, keys, etc…When mom isn’t there your paint doesn’t get mixed for the most part. The daughter really works at being helpful; the dad is there but usually defers to the mom. And there is the son that works off to one side of the store mixing paint for the auto body shops. Again, by hand. He just quietly works, observing everything, never talking much, never getting involved in all the activity that is going on, because this place is busy.
On a subsequent visit a swatch of color was chosen and the paint was produced for approval. That’s when the questions started, is it right, is it too dark, is it too light. After much discussion back and forth it took me to be the voice of reason and repeatedly ask “where’s the swatch?” At first it couldn’t be located but when it was eventually found the color wasn’t even close.
Another time we dropped off two five gallon buckets to be made and they were ready in an hour and were a perfect match. The next time mom wasn’t there so the paint was delivered to our town later that afternoon – totally wrong in color and price.
At this point all the painting is complete, but every time we drive by our paint store someone will comment and it becomes the subject of conversation for awhile.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sense of Place - Part I
Sense of Place – Part I
Until the events of a couple of weeks ago, (Am I Safe) I would generally walk alone in the countryside every morning taking the same road each day. This is the road that leads out of town, to the canyon area and eventually to Arandas, tequila capital of the world. After over two months of walking this same road I found that I had become bored with walking and started to jog, run or take the bicycle out.
What never bored me though was the road. It’s not much to look at but it was ever changing and always showing me something new. Whether it was the people I shared the road with, the animals I came across, a shift in the sun, the crops that line the road, the lake that was starting to fill or the smoke from the brick makers, everyday was like my first time.
When I first arrived the weather was hot, dry and dusty. Everything was a shade of brown covered by a layer of dust. I felt like I had ridden into an old western movie where everything is wilted from the heat and there is just a heavy silence. With the start of the rainy season in June all that has changed. Where I could walk on the side of the road before the grasses and weeds have grown to shoulder height in places and everything is green. It is amazing how such a brown, scrub like landscape can change so dramatically. Oh, by the way the weather is pretty close to perfect, warm to hot during the day, humidity is negligible, the evenings cool off and it generally rains overnight.
Animal and insect life abounds on the road. The cows in the fields are always watching me as I approach to see if I am there to feed them, even as they are munching on fresh grass.
One of my first mornings out I saw what I have come to call my little blue birds. They are a tiny bird the size of a wren with a neon purple blue body that looks like velvet with wings of black and gold. And they are quick, it’s almost as if they know you have gotten a glimpse of them and then they are gone
Other bird life is abundant with the hawks, black and white stripped eagles and then the vultures hovering about. I have vowed never to leave the house without my camera but whenever I do there are always the missed photo ops. One day it was a turtle and a white crane sharing a rock in the middle of a pond to sun them selves on while across the road the skeleton of a tree was filled with black crows.
The grouse or “little chickens” as they are called are the fun ones to startle. They always seem to be in pairs and make a very distinct whup, whup, whup sound with their wings as they slowly take flight. Never going very far or gaining much altitude.
After the rains had started it was the first overcast morning I had walked and all the landscape was a subdued grayish green when I encountered my friend. Mi amiga is pictured in the photograph for PostCardFromMexico Numero Dos, please see below. She stood out so brightly that morning I thought she was a Monarch butterfly. I stopped and spent some time there watching her before resuming my walk only to find her still there on my return. And there she was the next morning, same bush, same branch. And she remained there for a week, every morning it was like visiting an old friend. And then she was gone.
There have been many spiders, dragon flies and giant green beetles but never another one like her. On the last morning I walked the bushes on the west side of the road were filled with giant black beetles while on the east side of the road the bushes were empty.
Turtles and huge black caterpillars are always climbing on to the road for the heat but really it turns into a suicide mission for them.
Like I said the road was always showing me something new and sometimes unexpected. One morning it was a dead dog lying in the grass on the side of the road. You couldn’t see it till you were upon it because of the grasses and even after that first morning it would continue to startle me. But I also became intrigued and developed a morbid fascination with that dog. It like the road was in a constant state of change. That first morning it was just lying there on its side but over the next couple of days it became bloated and the legs of its right side stuck straight up in the air. Over the weeks that followed it would slowly deflate and disappear. It had been a medium sized dog with reddish brown fur but it started to look more like a wet bath towel that someone had tossed out their car window. Then one morning, of all the strange things to happen it was gone. All that was left were a few tufts of fur tangled in the grasses but the rest of it was just gone, bones and all.
The sky here is big, and as you walk up the hill out of town it only gets bigger as you look back. When you are up on the high plain above town everything is laid out before you and you can see mountains, plateaus and valleys miles and miles away. But the sky, it is the sky that brings so much change to the road. Some mornings you are walking in the clouds, some mornings they are below you in the valley, some mornings they are high above you or they may just not be there. It is this constant change in the sky and the light that lets you see things you never encountered before. Like a gate or a lake or the remaining wall of an old, abandoned house. Things that are always there but you never noticed them before the sky played it's trick.
The road is popular with people from town out walking, running or biking. And it is the way to work for many others like the folks who farm the land alongside the road. I have an appreciation for farms and the people that work them. My Grandparents were farmers and I have many fond memories of time spent at the farm. My Grandparents certainly worked hard but I have to think they used more machinery to help with the work than the folks here, here it is manual labor. There is one gentleman who works a field of alfalfa to feed the cattle. He has the field divided into six zones and he is out there harvesting the grass with a machete. He then loads his crop into a wheel barrow to take back to the barn. About the day he finishes one zone the next is ready to be harvested and when he has done all six the first is ready to go again. I am watching acres of corn grow and the farmers walking the field, spreading manure by hand and spraying the field with hand sprayers.
For many weeks I encountered a farmer who would appear at the same time and about the same place on the road each day. There is no gate, no path and no consistent place he would emerge from the fields. He would just walk out on to the side of the road with his bicycle and ride off down the hill. Aside from his mysterious entrance onto the road what makes him so memorable is that as he would ride off down the hill he would let out a yell just like a little kid riding their bike down that hill. To me that yell was such an absolute expression of joy and just having fun with the life you have. I found out recently that is his family farm and each morning when I saw him he would be returning to town from milking the cows.
I do miss my morning walks in the countryside and all they had to offer but like that farmer on his bike no matter what, just enjoy what life has to give you.
This was Part I of Sense of Place, in Part II we will discuss more on the landscape of this area of Mexico while Part III will be about small town life.
Until the events of a couple of weeks ago, (Am I Safe) I would generally walk alone in the countryside every morning taking the same road each day. This is the road that leads out of town, to the canyon area and eventually to Arandas, tequila capital of the world. After over two months of walking this same road I found that I had become bored with walking and started to jog, run or take the bicycle out.
What never bored me though was the road. It’s not much to look at but it was ever changing and always showing me something new. Whether it was the people I shared the road with, the animals I came across, a shift in the sun, the crops that line the road, the lake that was starting to fill or the smoke from the brick makers, everyday was like my first time.
When I first arrived the weather was hot, dry and dusty. Everything was a shade of brown covered by a layer of dust. I felt like I had ridden into an old western movie where everything is wilted from the heat and there is just a heavy silence. With the start of the rainy season in June all that has changed. Where I could walk on the side of the road before the grasses and weeds have grown to shoulder height in places and everything is green. It is amazing how such a brown, scrub like landscape can change so dramatically. Oh, by the way the weather is pretty close to perfect, warm to hot during the day, humidity is negligible, the evenings cool off and it generally rains overnight.
Animal and insect life abounds on the road. The cows in the fields are always watching me as I approach to see if I am there to feed them, even as they are munching on fresh grass.
One of my first mornings out I saw what I have come to call my little blue birds. They are a tiny bird the size of a wren with a neon purple blue body that looks like velvet with wings of black and gold. And they are quick, it’s almost as if they know you have gotten a glimpse of them and then they are gone
Other bird life is abundant with the hawks, black and white stripped eagles and then the vultures hovering about. I have vowed never to leave the house without my camera but whenever I do there are always the missed photo ops. One day it was a turtle and a white crane sharing a rock in the middle of a pond to sun them selves on while across the road the skeleton of a tree was filled with black crows.
The grouse or “little chickens” as they are called are the fun ones to startle. They always seem to be in pairs and make a very distinct whup, whup, whup sound with their wings as they slowly take flight. Never going very far or gaining much altitude.
After the rains had started it was the first overcast morning I had walked and all the landscape was a subdued grayish green when I encountered my friend. Mi amiga is pictured in the photograph for PostCardFromMexico Numero Dos, please see below. She stood out so brightly that morning I thought she was a Monarch butterfly. I stopped and spent some time there watching her before resuming my walk only to find her still there on my return. And there she was the next morning, same bush, same branch. And she remained there for a week, every morning it was like visiting an old friend. And then she was gone.
There have been many spiders, dragon flies and giant green beetles but never another one like her. On the last morning I walked the bushes on the west side of the road were filled with giant black beetles while on the east side of the road the bushes were empty.
Turtles and huge black caterpillars are always climbing on to the road for the heat but really it turns into a suicide mission for them.
Like I said the road was always showing me something new and sometimes unexpected. One morning it was a dead dog lying in the grass on the side of the road. You couldn’t see it till you were upon it because of the grasses and even after that first morning it would continue to startle me. But I also became intrigued and developed a morbid fascination with that dog. It like the road was in a constant state of change. That first morning it was just lying there on its side but over the next couple of days it became bloated and the legs of its right side stuck straight up in the air. Over the weeks that followed it would slowly deflate and disappear. It had been a medium sized dog with reddish brown fur but it started to look more like a wet bath towel that someone had tossed out their car window. Then one morning, of all the strange things to happen it was gone. All that was left were a few tufts of fur tangled in the grasses but the rest of it was just gone, bones and all.
The sky here is big, and as you walk up the hill out of town it only gets bigger as you look back. When you are up on the high plain above town everything is laid out before you and you can see mountains, plateaus and valleys miles and miles away. But the sky, it is the sky that brings so much change to the road. Some mornings you are walking in the clouds, some mornings they are below you in the valley, some mornings they are high above you or they may just not be there. It is this constant change in the sky and the light that lets you see things you never encountered before. Like a gate or a lake or the remaining wall of an old, abandoned house. Things that are always there but you never noticed them before the sky played it's trick.
The road is popular with people from town out walking, running or biking. And it is the way to work for many others like the folks who farm the land alongside the road. I have an appreciation for farms and the people that work them. My Grandparents were farmers and I have many fond memories of time spent at the farm. My Grandparents certainly worked hard but I have to think they used more machinery to help with the work than the folks here, here it is manual labor. There is one gentleman who works a field of alfalfa to feed the cattle. He has the field divided into six zones and he is out there harvesting the grass with a machete. He then loads his crop into a wheel barrow to take back to the barn. About the day he finishes one zone the next is ready to be harvested and when he has done all six the first is ready to go again. I am watching acres of corn grow and the farmers walking the field, spreading manure by hand and spraying the field with hand sprayers.
For many weeks I encountered a farmer who would appear at the same time and about the same place on the road each day. There is no gate, no path and no consistent place he would emerge from the fields. He would just walk out on to the side of the road with his bicycle and ride off down the hill. Aside from his mysterious entrance onto the road what makes him so memorable is that as he would ride off down the hill he would let out a yell just like a little kid riding their bike down that hill. To me that yell was such an absolute expression of joy and just having fun with the life you have. I found out recently that is his family farm and each morning when I saw him he would be returning to town from milking the cows.
I do miss my morning walks in the countryside and all they had to offer but like that farmer on his bike no matter what, just enjoy what life has to give you.
This was Part I of Sense of Place, in Part II we will discuss more on the landscape of this area of Mexico while Part III will be about small town life.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Pomegranate and Cactus Fruit
Pomegranate and Cactus Fruit
The other night I ate a pomegranate picked right from the tree. All rich, green hues on the outside and being ripe it had burst open on the tree to expose its deep, ruby red fruit. Too be frank, I didn’t know what to do with it as I was being encouraged to eat it. The pomegranate was too exotic looking to get my mind around and with fruit exposed I was suspect to eat it. It also seemed a bit obscene like a Georgia O'Keefe painting.
“Don’t eat the white, just eat the red. The white is no good.” After some experimenting and scattering the fruit all around me on the floor I figured it out. The pomegranate is a green pod with white compartments that hold the red seeds you eat. The fruit appears dry till you begin to touch the seeds, then they start to release an absolute abundance of juice.
What a treat. The sweetness and the juiciness of those rich red seeds were worth the trepidation and the mess. My hands began to turn red and I’m sure my mouth and face were also.
Many of my stories revolve around visiting folks at their ranches in the country. As I mentioned in a previous post (Spanish 101) I have had the pleasure of meeting a remarkable women who at the age of 96 still maintains an immense garden full of fruit bearing trees with limes, lemons, grapefruit, oranges, peaches, apricots, sour apples that aren’t apples and stuff I have no name for.
Awhile back on what was my first visit to the ranch we were treated to a salsa made by two of the brothers. As everyone sat and talked they picked, peeled and served us the following:
Recipe #1
Diced Oranges - fresh from the tree
Diced Tomatoes - fresh from the vine
Minced Hot Peppers - fresh from the bush
Salt
Grapefruit Juice - fresh squeezed from the tree
For lunch one day there was fresh broccoli and greens they had sent us home with.
Even after my experience with the pomegranate I still wasn’t prepared for the cactus fruit. But it turned out to be somewhat more familiar to me. I knew that you could eat the cactus pads of the nopale but I had no idea that the cactus produced an edible fruit.
During this time of year the cactus bloom and produce fruit called tuna. Some of the tuna is green and has a tangy, sour taste that I have eaten in soups. Other tuna is red, pink or yellow, each one with its own slightly different flavor. To eat one is like putting something in your mouth with the texture of a strawberry but the taste of mixed berries. The most wonderful experience is to eat the tuna in the mornings, right off the cactus and still chilled from the night before. You will see people out picking the tuna everywhere and can find them in the markets for sale. Not only is the tuna eaten as a fruit or used in cookining but makes a great refreshing beverage when blended.
Recently, relatives here had been to the beaches on the west coast and brought us back a fruit, green in color, shaped like a pear the size of a small watermelon and covered with bumpy little spines. When I asked what it tasted like the answer was “Everything. It tastes like all kinds of fruit.” And it did. There were distinct flavors of banana, pineapple, orange and others in a fruit that was thick and kind of creamy.
The fruit and vegetables here may not be uniform in shape and size and may have some blemishes but they are right from the source. A farmer was selling tomatoes in town one weekend. He had his pickup loaded, no crates, no boxes, just tomatoes piled in the bed of the truck. You probably wouldn’t have wanted the ones on the bottom but you know what, they were fresh. These tomatoes weren’t picked green, transported to a warehouse to be gassed and forced to ripen before they reached the supermarket.
Another visit to another ranch one evening and we were eating figs off the bush and picking wild mushrooms for breakfast the next morning. In our yard there is a banana tree with young bananas ripening. There is a tree with fruit that has the texture and flavor of ice cream and then there are the lemon trees they will lay sheets under to collect and dry the blossoms for tea.
I have joked that my new diet is tortillas, beans and beer but in all reality I am most certainly eating better and healthier than I have for many years. The pork, chicken and beef we eat are all raised locally. The amount of processed foods is at a minimum and when we visit folks we are always sent home with fresh eggs or homemade cheese. Aside from the health benefits I have noticed another positive outcome from all this freshness. We produce very little trash in the way of cans, jars and cardboard packaging. With three of us living in this house the amount of trash that is set out each Monday doesn’t fill a normal size trash can halfway.
Look for an upcoming post on Mexican fast food - yes there is McDonalds, Burger King and KFC here but we'll be talking about something better !!!
The other night I ate a pomegranate picked right from the tree. All rich, green hues on the outside and being ripe it had burst open on the tree to expose its deep, ruby red fruit. Too be frank, I didn’t know what to do with it as I was being encouraged to eat it. The pomegranate was too exotic looking to get my mind around and with fruit exposed I was suspect to eat it. It also seemed a bit obscene like a Georgia O'Keefe painting.
“Don’t eat the white, just eat the red. The white is no good.” After some experimenting and scattering the fruit all around me on the floor I figured it out. The pomegranate is a green pod with white compartments that hold the red seeds you eat. The fruit appears dry till you begin to touch the seeds, then they start to release an absolute abundance of juice.
What a treat. The sweetness and the juiciness of those rich red seeds were worth the trepidation and the mess. My hands began to turn red and I’m sure my mouth and face were also.
Many of my stories revolve around visiting folks at their ranches in the country. As I mentioned in a previous post (Spanish 101) I have had the pleasure of meeting a remarkable women who at the age of 96 still maintains an immense garden full of fruit bearing trees with limes, lemons, grapefruit, oranges, peaches, apricots, sour apples that aren’t apples and stuff I have no name for.
Awhile back on what was my first visit to the ranch we were treated to a salsa made by two of the brothers. As everyone sat and talked they picked, peeled and served us the following:
Recipe #1
Diced Oranges - fresh from the tree
Diced Tomatoes - fresh from the vine
Minced Hot Peppers - fresh from the bush
Salt
Grapefruit Juice - fresh squeezed from the tree
For lunch one day there was fresh broccoli and greens they had sent us home with.
Even after my experience with the pomegranate I still wasn’t prepared for the cactus fruit. But it turned out to be somewhat more familiar to me. I knew that you could eat the cactus pads of the nopale but I had no idea that the cactus produced an edible fruit.
During this time of year the cactus bloom and produce fruit called tuna. Some of the tuna is green and has a tangy, sour taste that I have eaten in soups. Other tuna is red, pink or yellow, each one with its own slightly different flavor. To eat one is like putting something in your mouth with the texture of a strawberry but the taste of mixed berries. The most wonderful experience is to eat the tuna in the mornings, right off the cactus and still chilled from the night before. You will see people out picking the tuna everywhere and can find them in the markets for sale. Not only is the tuna eaten as a fruit or used in cookining but makes a great refreshing beverage when blended.
Recently, relatives here had been to the beaches on the west coast and brought us back a fruit, green in color, shaped like a pear the size of a small watermelon and covered with bumpy little spines. When I asked what it tasted like the answer was “Everything. It tastes like all kinds of fruit.” And it did. There were distinct flavors of banana, pineapple, orange and others in a fruit that was thick and kind of creamy.
The fruit and vegetables here may not be uniform in shape and size and may have some blemishes but they are right from the source. A farmer was selling tomatoes in town one weekend. He had his pickup loaded, no crates, no boxes, just tomatoes piled in the bed of the truck. You probably wouldn’t have wanted the ones on the bottom but you know what, they were fresh. These tomatoes weren’t picked green, transported to a warehouse to be gassed and forced to ripen before they reached the supermarket.
Another visit to another ranch one evening and we were eating figs off the bush and picking wild mushrooms for breakfast the next morning. In our yard there is a banana tree with young bananas ripening. There is a tree with fruit that has the texture and flavor of ice cream and then there are the lemon trees they will lay sheets under to collect and dry the blossoms for tea.
I have joked that my new diet is tortillas, beans and beer but in all reality I am most certainly eating better and healthier than I have for many years. The pork, chicken and beef we eat are all raised locally. The amount of processed foods is at a minimum and when we visit folks we are always sent home with fresh eggs or homemade cheese. Aside from the health benefits I have noticed another positive outcome from all this freshness. We produce very little trash in the way of cans, jars and cardboard packaging. With three of us living in this house the amount of trash that is set out each Monday doesn’t fill a normal size trash can halfway.
Look for an upcoming post on Mexican fast food - yes there is McDonalds, Burger King and KFC here but we'll be talking about something better !!!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Am I Safe ???
Am I Safe ???
Last evening, around 9:3pm a man was abducted in our town. I have heard two possible theories on what has happened.
1) Men posing as fake agents of the Mexican FBI took the man and his car into custody because the car had U.S. plates and they claimed they needed to investigate. Their intent being to steal the car, his money and probably ask for ransom. When the Presidente (Mayor) contacted the FBI they said they had no operation going on in San Diego.
2) The second theory is that the man allegedly had drugs in his car and was taken by the Secret Police to a prison in Guadalajara.
Either way nerves are shaken for we are living in what is considered a very safe part of Mexico.
Am I safe ???
This is a question I am constantly asked.
A better question would be…
Do I feel safe ???
Yes
I believe that I have a heightened sense of my surroundings since moving to Mexico.
Maybe it is because I am an outsider and don’t always fit in.
My morning walks alone in the countryside have now ceased since the happenings of last night but even before I was always aware of approaching people and cars and knew my escape route.
I was planning this story to be posted in the next couple of weeks but it seems timelier for today.
Over the past few years in my visits to Mexico I became somewhat used to the military roadblocks. They still tend to unnerve me but the soldiers have always been courteous. Recently there was a checkpoint in town and as we were standing outside the car the soldiers were very patient in trying to get me out of the way of a truck they were pulling over.
On the other hand when we were on our way to Puerto Vallarta in June we were traveling an old mountain highway and were flagged down by soldiers. The soldiers were asking us to help another motorist. The driver approached our car and was asking for a tire iron, my friend who was driving said we had nothing to help them and drove away. The whole situation felt wrong – first soldiers helping a motorist in trouble, then the number of tires lying around the vehicle and finally the fact that between the motorist and the army vehicle they didn’t have a tire iron that would fit. My friend said that it was a set up to rob passing cars.
I have read everything that the U.S. State Department www.state.gov has to write and have registered with the U.S. Consulate in Guadalajara. I have looked up reports on the abduction and violence towards U.S. citizens. It would seem that the targeted victims are primarily of Hispanic descent and most of the victims in other cases are innocent bystanders. And when you consider that there are over a million U.S Citizens living in Mexico the percentage touched by violence is negligible.
We will be heading to Guadalajara in the next couple of weeks to live and there is a huge English speaking population. In many areas surrounding Guadalajara English is spoken more than Spanish because of the number of people from the States and Canada.
NPR recently had a very revealing article on the history of the violence in Mexico and how effectively the previous ruling party had controlled the DTO’s (Drug Trafficking Organizations) http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129009629
As I have expressed to friends back home part of the problem is if you are in trouble you don’t know who to go to as the police and military are sometimes involved.
We tried to visit an old abandoned hacienda out in the country and found it was being “protected” by the army.
The airport in the neighboring town of Lagos De Moreno has rocks blocking the entrance so you need to enter in a serpentine manner. Again it is “protected” by the army but popular knowledge is that the army is protecting the drug cartels and their shipments.
This morning we were parked downtown across from the police station. I was going to wait in the car while my friends ran errands. The joke was do I feel safe parked in front of the police station or should I be worried
There is so much to write on this subject and as I said in my introduction I would leave the news to the professionals.
My goal here was to let folks know that overall I feel safe, mainly because I am not out there taking chances. One of my dreams was to travel around the countryside by myself taking photographs. I have never done this and probably never will. At this point I never leave the house unless someone is with me and plan to get the cell phone charged and purchase credit.
On a lighter note as all this was happening last night we had been visiting folks at their ranch in the country. When we were leaving I got out to open the gate and stepped in a very soft, squishing cow patty with my right foot. After I expressed a few expletives, with everyone laughing at me as they drove through, I closed the gate and my left foot found another cow pie of its own.
Last evening, around 9:3pm a man was abducted in our town. I have heard two possible theories on what has happened.
1) Men posing as fake agents of the Mexican FBI took the man and his car into custody because the car had U.S. plates and they claimed they needed to investigate. Their intent being to steal the car, his money and probably ask for ransom. When the Presidente (Mayor) contacted the FBI they said they had no operation going on in San Diego.
2) The second theory is that the man allegedly had drugs in his car and was taken by the Secret Police to a prison in Guadalajara.
Either way nerves are shaken for we are living in what is considered a very safe part of Mexico.
Am I safe ???
This is a question I am constantly asked.
A better question would be…
Do I feel safe ???
Yes
I believe that I have a heightened sense of my surroundings since moving to Mexico.
Maybe it is because I am an outsider and don’t always fit in.
My morning walks alone in the countryside have now ceased since the happenings of last night but even before I was always aware of approaching people and cars and knew my escape route.
I was planning this story to be posted in the next couple of weeks but it seems timelier for today.
Over the past few years in my visits to Mexico I became somewhat used to the military roadblocks. They still tend to unnerve me but the soldiers have always been courteous. Recently there was a checkpoint in town and as we were standing outside the car the soldiers were very patient in trying to get me out of the way of a truck they were pulling over.
On the other hand when we were on our way to Puerto Vallarta in June we were traveling an old mountain highway and were flagged down by soldiers. The soldiers were asking us to help another motorist. The driver approached our car and was asking for a tire iron, my friend who was driving said we had nothing to help them and drove away. The whole situation felt wrong – first soldiers helping a motorist in trouble, then the number of tires lying around the vehicle and finally the fact that between the motorist and the army vehicle they didn’t have a tire iron that would fit. My friend said that it was a set up to rob passing cars.
I have read everything that the U.S. State Department www.state.gov has to write and have registered with the U.S. Consulate in Guadalajara. I have looked up reports on the abduction and violence towards U.S. citizens. It would seem that the targeted victims are primarily of Hispanic descent and most of the victims in other cases are innocent bystanders. And when you consider that there are over a million U.S Citizens living in Mexico the percentage touched by violence is negligible.
We will be heading to Guadalajara in the next couple of weeks to live and there is a huge English speaking population. In many areas surrounding Guadalajara English is spoken more than Spanish because of the number of people from the States and Canada.
NPR recently had a very revealing article on the history of the violence in Mexico and how effectively the previous ruling party had controlled the DTO’s (Drug Trafficking Organizations) http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129009629
As I have expressed to friends back home part of the problem is if you are in trouble you don’t know who to go to as the police and military are sometimes involved.
We tried to visit an old abandoned hacienda out in the country and found it was being “protected” by the army.
The airport in the neighboring town of Lagos De Moreno has rocks blocking the entrance so you need to enter in a serpentine manner. Again it is “protected” by the army but popular knowledge is that the army is protecting the drug cartels and their shipments.
This morning we were parked downtown across from the police station. I was going to wait in the car while my friends ran errands. The joke was do I feel safe parked in front of the police station or should I be worried
There is so much to write on this subject and as I said in my introduction I would leave the news to the professionals.
My goal here was to let folks know that overall I feel safe, mainly because I am not out there taking chances. One of my dreams was to travel around the countryside by myself taking photographs. I have never done this and probably never will. At this point I never leave the house unless someone is with me and plan to get the cell phone charged and purchase credit.
On a lighter note as all this was happening last night we had been visiting folks at their ranch in the country. When we were leaving I got out to open the gate and stepped in a very soft, squishing cow patty with my right foot. After I expressed a few expletives, with everyone laughing at me as they drove through, I closed the gate and my left foot found another cow pie of its own.
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