Sunday, May 27, 2012

Ah...The First Little Death and other random thoughts






The Registration is Where?

We have now officially joined the ranks of resident gringos.  We have paid our first mordita.  True, we were neither smooth nor cool but the deed is done.  A mordita (which the computer keeps trying to correct into morbid --very apropos) is "a little death" in Spanish.  This would equate to a bribe in the US or a way of life in Mexico.  We were happily wandering down a one way street in the wrong direction looking for a shoe repair shop for Justin's boots when we were nabbed.  Now we swear they take down the one way arrows which are hung on the walls of buildings.  How else to explain the portly officer, ticket book in hand, staring intently and greedily as we approached.  Actually, I had left the car to go ask someone where the cobbler was and Michael was supposed to go around the block and pick me up.  Imagine my surprise to come upon him locked in an eye battle with the cop.  Neither spoke.  This was because neither of them could speak the others language.  Justin looked on bemusedly from the back seat.

I hesitated.  There are various theories on how to handle this.  Here they are:

1)  Get on your high horse and insist they give you the ticket because YOU won't support this kind of corruption.  This generally results in your spending 12-15 hours in the finance department of the local city hall which is very much like the 7th or 8th circle of hell;
2)  Pretend you speak absolutely no Spanish.  Try to make your eyes cross and generally behave like an idiot -- but not an idiot on drugs.  Twitch a lot.  Hope he loses interest or sees an easier mark.
3)  Calmly remove your license, slip a 200 peso note under it and hand it to the cop with a slight smile.  Hope he is not the one honest cop on your local force.  He probably isn't.

We decided to go with Option #2.  Well, actually, we just kind of fell into the "Look, I'm an idiot and I can't speak Spanish either" (well, certainly not under pressure like this!).  Michael managed to give him his license but it all started to fall apart when the cop demanded "el papel". I thought he wanted a piece of paper to write the mordita amount on but no.... he wanted the registration.  Except -- we couldn't find the registration.  We're tearing the car apart.  The cop is pacing around the car and staring grouchily at us.  We find the registration of a car we haven't owned for two years.  But not our new one.  I try pathetically to explain that we are "new in town" (no smile from cop), must have left it home (no smile) are really nice but stupid people (small smile).  He turns on his heel and walks away while gesturing threateningly at us to stay put.  I start telling Michael that they can now tow our car and that we may, if we are lucky, one day have the stripped bare chassis returned to us -- one day.  Now the cop is returning but not with a tow truck. Praise Allah!  He has brought a fluent English speaker and I can just tell this guy is ON OUR SIDE!  And Luis is.  After about 15 seconds he says to me:  "Look, I don't know how you feel about this but I can get rid of this guy for 200 pesos." I assure you, money has never flown out of Michael's wallet more quickly.  Luis, in one smooth and practiced gesture, swoops the pesos into the outstretched hand of our local protector.  He didn't even say thanks.

Now here's where we get to the part that shows that we should always go with Option 2 because we really ARE idiots. We drive home and Michael rips apart the office looking for the registration.  And then it dawns on him.  We  reregistered the car in Texas.  They put the registration on the windshield.  The whole time we were destroying the car, carrying on, and looking like fools the registration was clearly visible and within a foot of us.  One wonders if the cop knew.....

Love In Action  -- Really

Yesterday, Michael and I went to work at Love In Action helping to run an Arts and Crafts session.  LiA (as I mentioned everything here is abbreviated-- even things like this which shouldn't be) is an orphanage.  Yes.  They still exist.  And having spent an afternoon there I am inclined to wonder if the kids there are not better off than kids in the US that end up in foster home after foster home after foster home.  While certainly not idyllic, there is structure, they get a decent education (including after school tutoring) and quite a bit of love.  The Mexican government kicks in very little money but the gringo community here is very generous.  When it became possible for them to buy a six building complex (they had been crammed into one small building) three wealthy gringos each wrote a check for $100K and then the community fixed it up.

There are 65 children between 6 months and 18 years there.  They cannot be adopted because they have parents and under Mexican law they cannot be put up for adoption if the parents are alive.  Thus, most spend their entire childhoods at LiA.  This place would drive people who are into regulation, rules and restraint over the edge.  I kind of liked the ambiance.  As we walked up, six boys were pig piling on the grass and generally working each other over.  When they saw that we were there they unpiled and ran up smiling.  Over the course of the afternoon they would scale a large glass fronted meat case and perch on top kicking the glass with their sneakers, clamber onto numerous unstable objects and two would get hit in the heads with swings.  Coming from a culture in which physical contact between kids is frowned upon and adults go to great lengths to prevent any possible injury this was a cultural adjustment (crisis) for me as I cringed and flinched my way through the afternoon constantly biting my tongue.  They all survived.

While on one hand they have tremendous freedom, on the other it is a very disciplined environment.  There is a schedule posted on the wall and it is followed.  No food is consumed without grace being said. All homework is completed under supervision and there are no excuses.  Por favor and gracias are insisted upon.  It's kind of like Sister Mary Francis meets The Dead End Kids (only 3 of you are old enough to remember that show).  Anyway, the kids are adorable and we really enjoyed our time with them so this will be an ongoing relationship we hope.

Deirdre helping a new friend with water colors

Mugging for the camera

Deirdre with two new friends


One More Random Thing

A Revised History of our House -

We had our neighbor Malcolm and his wife over for drinks.  Malcolm owns a B&B and resembles the professor in Back to the Future both in looks and mindset.  He has lived in Ajijic for 25 years and regaled us with tales of Timothy Leary and the crew rolling through town.  As we were giving him a tour of the house he told us the "real" story -- real being a very vague word in Mexico.  According to Malcolm our house was not built by two gay guys from Guadalajara as a party house.  More distressingly, it was built by an ex-Naxi General named Rolf (they always are) for his son and his wife.  They must have been swingers --what with it being the 70s/80s and having all the mirrors, unicorns and mermaids.  Spawn of a Nazi and swingers -- indeed a tawdry past.  As I told my friend Phillip, next we'll be told it was built for Shari Lewis and Lambchop--that really would be distressing.

Well, that's it for this week.  Hope all of you are fine and having fun.  Take care and keep those comments and updates coming.

We'll leave you with a few more pictures of our beautiful village.

Colors of the village

Looking at the mountains from the village

A carved statue in the plaza

A colorful store in the village

A colorful house

Sunset on Lake Chapala



Monday, May 21, 2012

The Good, The Good, The Bad, The Weird and The Unpronouncible

This post is just a series of random things that are occurring in our universe (and maybe beyond in one case). So here we go.

El gato con sombrero

Siam with serape & pool pals

Lounging by the pool


Gato Glamarosso (I made that word up) -

Some of our more PETA-inclined friends and family strongly inferred that our actions were bordering on animal cruelty when we encased our 18 year old, renally challenged cat in her Kitty Camo carrier and took her on a 3,000 mile road trip without room for a litter box. Well, ha!  Look at this cat.  Never has a feline thrived more robustly.  As you know, I have no tolerance for people who dress up their animals and I assure you that this latest makeover on Siam's part is entirely of her own doing (with a little help from Allison and Janet in furnishing frocks).  Now as she lolls by the pool or decompresses in the recliner our little SOB (no, that's South of Border) gato is totally de la mode.


Chivas soccer youth





Chivas vs Halcones




El perro con fĂștbol

Youth Soccer IS NOT the Same

In Mexico, a lot of the expat groups sponsor youth soccer teams.  The local businesses can't afford it and the whole ethos of philanthropy is different here.  Here philanthropy is taking care of your extended family, not the society as a whole.  In any case, the Hash House Harriers is sponsoring a soccer team called Chivas.  I thought it was odd that they named a soccer team after a brand of scotch but... whatever. Oh, Michael tells me it is NOT named after the scotch.  Well, I'm kind of bummed..

So Here Is How It Is Different:
1)  There is no grass on the field.  If you are lucky there are no broken bottles or nails;
2)  There are no yelling parents.  There are maybe three or four quiet ones.  The rest are working or off being adults.
3)  Age brackets are for sissies.  While our team is purported to enlist 11-14 year olds it is clear that if IDs were pulled we'd be talking six to fifteen.  Amazingly, the small ones survive.
4)  There are no purebred dogs on leashes.  There are no purebred dogs.  One dog spent a quarter of the game on the field eating the leg of something.
5)  The coach's emphasis is not so much on winning but more on convincing the kids that an afternoon of soccer is a lot more worthwhile than a lifetime (short) working for a drug cartel.  No kidding.

Michael has started taking pictures of the kids.  The younger ones really get excited about this so we are starting to hand out the pictures to them.  It's hard for us, with an obscene number of photos of every phase of our children's lives, to imagine that these kids may not have even a single photo of themselves.



Royal Palm drops its frond

La cucaracha en las palmas

And another frond falls


It's NOT Always Idyllic

I know.  We painted this place as an Eden.  An oasis of relaxation and good feeling.  Well, it's not without its worries.  Just the other night Michael and I were on the front veranda, relaxing with a glass of red wine and making plans to convert our front lawn into a venue for Killer Croquet.  For the uninitiated, Killer Croquet is to croquet as steeplechase is to flat track racing.  As we were discussing wicket placement and outlining possible obstacles there was a hellacious crash and a huge limb and frond from our massive Royal Palm fell right where wicket #3 was planned to go.  "Hmmphf," said Michael, "Perhaps it shall literally be Killer Croquet."  Fortifying ourselves with yet another glass of wine, we went to survey the damage.  We discovered two things:  1) It weighed A LOT and would at least maim a player and; 2) it was filled with cucarachas -- yes the dreaded cockroaches!  That would kill the player if the impact didn't.  What the hell are cockroaches doing living 40 feet up in a palm tree?  Why?  What do they eat?  Who cares?  Another Mexican mystery.

An additional impediment in launching our new game is that croquet sets are virtually unknown and totally unobtainable in Mexico.  Therefore, glass of wine number 3, we have come up with a plan.  We will order a set and have it delivered to an unnamed as yet friend in Boston.  Whenever anyone comes to visit, the entry fee will be transport of several mallets, balls or wickets.  We leave it to you to explain croquet to the Customs folks.


Colima Volcano



An Earthquake... Or Was It

The other night there was an earthquake around 10PM.  Michael was watching TV and I, characteristically, was asleep.  It was an odd one according to Michael because rather than shaking, this one had a large percussive boom and then like a wave of motion.  Then nothing.  Michael came in to check on me.  As many of you may remember our bedroom boasts a fully mirrored ceiling thanks to the gay guys from Guadalajara who built the house for parties and clearly had a serious case of narcissism.  The mirrored ceiling is distressing on many levels but none more so than in the case of an earthquake.  Well, the mirror held and the night passed uneventfully.

The next morning our maid, Nancy, arrived and we were commenting on the earthquake.  She ventured that perhaps it was not an earthquake.   She had heard on the radio that it was, in fact, either space junk or an asteroid and it was believed to have struck earth a mere 8 miles or so away in Jocotepec.  As we spoke, the bomberos (firemen) were combing the mountains and pastures for the offending items.  The next time we saw Nancy we asked her if they had found it.  "Who knows?" she shrugged.  That is so Mexico. We'll never know.

It's Easy for You to Say


Casa Fuerte - Our favorite restaurant in
Tlaquepaque

Another view of the open courtyard of the restaurant

Justin between two of Bustamante's latest sculptures




Learning a foreign language at 60+ years of age presents certain problems not the least of which is that you have lost probably 45-50% of your brain cells by this point.  But we are up to the challenge and doggedly continue to torture the local inhabitants with our hideous variant of what is really quite a beautiful language.  However, we have met our match with the indigenous native languages.  I would say Indian but Justin is here and he'd be all over me for my lack of racial sensitivity.  Allow me a single example: Tlaquepaque.  This is pronounced Clock-a-pock-key and it's anybody's guess what it means.  There are a million of these names.  Okay, I can't help it:  Tzapotzingo (fruit of the Zapote), Xuchitzin (precious flower).  Enough.  I just can't say them.  So, Justin shows up the other day and somehow we get going on Aztec history and he is just spewing these names out like they're John Smith or Pete Jones.  It was quite demoralizing.  Anyway, we are off to Tlaquepaque in a few minutes to take in the sights and do some shopping and eating.  Hopefully Michael will get some good shots and we'll incorporate them into the blog.  Take care all of you.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

It's More Than Just Buying Food.....

Michael and I have begun to really get into the whole buying food thing here.  We've always loved the outdoor European markets and, while Mexican markets have a very different feel to them, they are in some ways quite comparable.  I'll start by describing the Wednesday Tianquis.  Tianquis just means market in some local native dialect.  The market stretches from the carreterra (the main road at the top of the village) down to within two blocks of the lake -- probably a distance of about 500 meters.  God!  I'm thinking metric!  When did that happen?  And, like European markets it's pretty unpredictable what you'll find beyond the regular offerings.  This week there were kittens, beautiful plates being sold by a tremendously handsome 8 year old and a woman who had any conceivable plastic kitchen item you could think of.    Our strategy is to walk up the hill to the carreterra scoping out the offerings and then to turn back downhill buying what we want as we head back to home.  The Tianquis also features the requisite kind of crazy guy who looks about 80, quite down on his luck but speaks perfect, colloquial English and several Indian begging women.  What is interesting is that the women who beg (at least outside the supermercado) commute from Guadalajara because the gringo population is a much better target market. This appeals to my background in marketing.

Hopefully, the photos will have loaded right and you will be looking at pictures of the Wednesday market. The majority of booths are vegetables and fruits -- some of which we actually recognize.  Let me tell you, there are a lot of items in these booths that we can't exactly pin down.  This is compounded when you ask what the name is and you are told the Spanish name which, of course, sheds no light. Sometimes we are tempted to just pick one up, bring it home and ask Nancy who helps us around the house what you do with it.  In fact we'll do that next week and I'll report on another post.  The variability is interesting too.  Last week, one vendor had beets the size of a large man's fist while the guy next door had these petite little beets.  I have no idea which is preferable but it was too hot for beets anyway.  We love the nut guy.  He has probably 50 trays of different nuts and some dried fruits.  It reminds me of all the different olives laid out in the French markets.  We can get 1/2 kilos of hot (spicy) peanuts, pistachios and walnuts for less than about $8.  We always end at the bottom of the market buying our seafood, flowers and coffee and then we head home.

I was initially concerned about eating vegetables from the market because of everything you hear about how sick you can get (ditto on the seafood).  However, Nancy to the rescue once more.  Our first week here she introduced me to the world of microdyne.  You fill up the sink, pour in a capful, plop your vegetables and fruit that you don't peel into the water and let them soak for 15 minutes.  Voila, no problem.  It has no aftertaste either.  Strangely, for I am not a terribly domestic person as you all know,  I get a strange satisfaction in seeing these beautiful, robust vegetables and fruit floating languidly in my kitchen sink.  The seafood is great here  -- a half kilo of jumbo or even bigger than jumbo shrimp is about $4.50.  But beyond the cost, it's just the freshness that is so nice.  Speaking of which, we went to a meat market here for the first time.  I was very unhappy with the hamburger I'd bought at the supermercado so decided to try this small butcher.  He ground the hamburger in front of me, after showing me the piece of beef and having me approve it.  The difference in  taste between anything I've had in the States or the supermarket stuff here was amazing.  We also bought 4 filet mignon for about $7.00 but haven't eaten them yet.  But I digress from the markets.

So that's the Wednesday market.  We also go to a Monday market and Tuesday market.  You will note with all this market-going there is barely time to go to the Tapas bar and Pier bar for half price margaritas.  We are truly going to roast in Hell for gluttony and sloth.  Now the Monday and Tuesday markets are very different from the Wednesday market because these are gringo markets -- produced by and for gringos.  Clearly there are Americans and Canadians who just can't give up working and they have discovered that in Mexico the best work for gringos is making things for other gringos that they are dying to eat but can't find here.

The Monday Market rather specializes in things that are fairly bad for you but irresistible.  Pulled pork, ribs, home made butter with herbs, outrageous desserts, sausages of all kinds, artisanal cheeses.  There is some healthy stuff like Spring and Summer Rolls, soups and bisques but those people are marginalized towards the back of the space (only kidding).

The Tuesday Market is also called the Organic Market which, of course, put me off because well...really.  However, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that they were not hopelessly full of themselves and nutritionally stuck up.  This is the land of milk (unpasteurized) and honey.  Also of hummus, hand made soap, samosas (divine!) and home made (organic) quiche and tamales.  It is great having the three markets because we usually pick up several meals that are kind of already prepped and then make a number of meals from scratch from the Wednesday market.  We eat out 2-3 times a week as well.  Sounds like we eat a lot doesn't it?

Anyway, don't want you to think we are obsessed with food but it is a very different and fun food environment here.  Quick boy update.  Justin will arrive next Saturday for his first visit to the house.  Alex is in Gatlinburg.  His phone got soaked and is broken.  Needs to get a new one and then back on the trail.  He has had his share of problems but seems in excellent spirits.  Hope all of you are well and we'll post again soon.










Sunday, May 6, 2012

Trekking off to Guad

Michael and I decided to make a foray into Guadalajara this week to do some shopping for the hacienda.  People here refer to it as Guad.  It appears that it takes too much energy to pronounce more than four syllable words so Guadalajara is Guad, Puerto Vallerta is PV etc.  Just thought you'd like to know.  Anyway we had amassed a sizable list of things we had been unable to obtain in our back water village and set off with light hearts to a more familiar world -- one populated with Costcos, Home Depot and a REALLY BIG Walmart.  It was an awakening.  First, unlike Ajijic no sales clerk in all of Guad speaks English.  You would not believe the number of words for perfectly ordinary things you do not learn in Spanish class (bedspread, liquid measure etc.)  We stumbled through it and emerged intact if chastened and committed to learning the vocabulary of every conceivable household good.  (Guys just skip the next few sentences as I do a shopping rant.)  I saw no sheets with a thread count over 180 and they wanted $95 for them.  While the random combination of colors on houses is charming in Mexico, it is not charming on comforters.  We will have to do some shopping in the states in June.  For the difference in price, I can buy the sheets a seat on the plane and still come out ahead.

So... that done, let me describe the photos of Guad.  It is a very pretty city with a plaza that stretches for seven blocks.  There is always something going on in the plaza -- this time it was a festival to encourage Mexican youth to "get out and get active" or some other insipid slogan.  The area was cool though with rock climbing, bungee jumping on trampolines etc.  Sorry, no photo of that.  The photo of the Gazebo shows a typical little park.  It is next to the Cathedral which has marvelous tiling on the steeples and roofs.  The interior isn't as filled with gilt as one would imagine probably because the Spanish shipped it home as soon as they got their hands on it.  The third photo is where we had lunch on Wednesday.  It is called the Fonda of San Miguel and it is a former convent (and military garrison, and bandit hideout and revolutionary outpost).  Nothing is a simple, single thing here.  Very atmospheric and the food was good if not outstanding.  Okay.  Couldn't resist the next photo.  Please feel free to vote which frock would do the most for me -- or me for it.  I am rather partial to the red, black and white but I have always gone for the classic look.

We stayed at our friend Robert's little hotelito in Guad.  He took an old motorcycle repair shop and turned it into this terrific little hotel.  It does not hurt that he is an internationally known landscape architect.  The rooms are nice but not lavish but the gardens... really lavish.  Robert is one of the first people we met when we got here and he is great company.  I had my first actual long conversation in Spanish with Robert's partner Luis who doesn't speak much English.  I was actually surprised that I could keep going -- I think those two classes of wine definitely helped my fluency.  Robert would jump in for both Luis and me when communication crumbled but it was fun.  Robert is going to come down to survey the grounds of the house here in Ajijic and render judgment on the caliber of our flora.

I need to go so we can upload these photos and get this on its way.  Had a long conversation with Alex today.  After spraining his ankle, he took 4 days to heal staying at this outdoor kayak training place in some unpronounceable town, North Carolina.  While there he met two more hikers and they hiked together for a couple of days.  They were about to do a really steep climb, Alex's ankle was acting up and they suggested they hitch to Ashville instead and go back on the trail on Monday.  Alex has said that Lavender (trail name)is "quite the girl.. . smart, funny and plays one hell of a guitar"  Hmmmm. Alex says Ashville is terrific but couldn't get over the 3 hours he spent in a flea market in some remote town while hitching -- the ultimate cross cultural experience.  Apparently Lavender is an anthropology major (just graduated) and found the whole thing right up her alley.

Well, enough about him.  Let's get back to us.  Nothing more to report.  Will try to post next week.  Take care and I love to get your comments/calls/emails.  See you.







This last picture is of our outdoor kitchen. It has two burners, a grill and a griddle. You can also see the sink. What you do not see is the outdoor refrigerator. Michael is still mastering the gas and managed to singe the hair on his arms getting the grill lit. We had a great meal of roasted vegetables on the griddle and steaks on the grill last night. The food here is really fresh and inexpensive. By the time you visit us Michael will have mastered the lighting of the grill and will have developed and extensive repertoire of gourmet meals on the grill and griddle.