Okay, so we made it home and regaled you with tales of our travels. But weeks have passed with no word of our exploits. Grab a beer and let's get going. This will be a fairly random posting since much has taken place but almost none of it is interrelated. You'll see.
Weather Report:
You know I am always honest with you -- mostly. I have iterated and reiterated that Ajijic is the blissful land of eternal spring and so I honestly believed. Until May. Upon our return, we found our lovely pueblo sweltering. It hit 93 degrees seven times. And, one time, it hit almost 100. I was often ensconced on my pool float with a hose draped over my shoulder spewing cold water over me and into the pool. I know, it's a disturbing image. Move on. Everyone was crabby and swore this was extraordinary and unknown and clearly global warming (well, could be). Why am I telling you this? In contrition. Because I have tortured you with the exquisiteness of our climate. Because when it was snowing and ten degrees with 50 mile per hour winds and I would speak with you on the phone I would snicker and mock your situation. I was smug. I apologize. However, it only lasted about three weeks and then rainy season kicked in. Yesterday, it rained 2.5 inches in a bit over an hour and had the decency to clear by breakfast. Back to high 70s and heavenly. OOOPS. There I go again. Sorry.
Gay Pride!
No, not us. We're still straight. However, June 1st was the big Gay Pride Parade in Guadalajara so we decided to mosey on up with Ed and Ramon and see how gay Tapatios celebrate their lifestyle. And my, it was impressive. According to those in the know--gay people-- Guadalajara is the San Francisco of Latin America. OK. The theme was Legalizing Gay Marriage, which it appears Mexico is on the brink of doing. It's already legal in Mexico City but the rest of the country has been lagging. I think it's in the legislature, not the courts. Not entirely sure. If they are doing legislation, I sincerely hope they do a better job than they did on their immigration law. If not, people won't know if they are temporarily married, permanently married or if they have to sell their car. That's kind of an inside joke.
So, the four of us are standing around sweltering (it was that almost 100 degree day) watching the festivities. I turn and there is a microphone and camera directly in my face wielded by a fetching young woman (I think). She asks me my opinion of gay marriage. I have concluded that she must have been scanning the crowd for quite a while and then thought "Oh, wow, look at that old, straight, unhip couple across the street. They ought to give me something weird." Taken aback for a second I composed myself and opined that if Michael and I could be married, it seemed to me that Ed and Ramon deserved the same. I meant that in the nicest way. She beamed. I beamed. Michael, Ed and Ramon beamed. It was all good. I'm sure it's being seen in Turkmenistan right now. Haven't seen it here. This event was largely visual so, to help you visualize, Michael will provide you with some photos.
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| The diversity of dress & style reflected the spirit of the day. |
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| The theme of the parade. |
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| There was a little something for everyone, whether it was minimalist... |
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| or a bit more maximalist... |
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| young guys with collar & harness... |
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| gals with wings & leopard skin... |
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| a bit of beefcake (with one lucha libre mask)... |
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| or a bit of cheesecake. |
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| It was also an opportunity for advertising, in the case of this hotel. |
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| The creativity of costumes was astounding. |
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| However this one chose to go with less to show more. |
The Fiesta of San Antonio
The little pueblo next to us is San Antonio Tlayacapan. Named, of course, for Saint Anthony of Padua. Here's how it worked. The indigenous people had a name for each of their their villages. Then the Franciscans came and stuck a saint's name in front of it. Sometimes it stuck, sometimes not, I guess. Like it isn't Saint Andres Ajijic. Well, maybe it is, but everyone calls it Ajijic. But everyone calls our neighboring village San Antonio. Go figure. A little background on Saint Anthony. According to my extensive research (Mexico Insights and a short chat with Jim after two margaritas) even though Padua is in Portugal, Saint Anthony wasn't Portuguese. He was really Italian and born into a ritzy family that expected him to go into the family business in silks and "Oriental bounty". According to Mexico Insights he instead became a Dominican priest but "left that order to join ranks with missionaries headed by St. Francis with hopes of becoming a martyr by being killed by the infidels" in Morocco. Unfortunately (from his viewpoint) he became so ill on the trip to the African coast (not very far) that he was sent home to Italy immediately. Martyrdom denied. He lived in a hermitage for years cleaning the kitchen and hiding the fact that he was from a ritzy family. Then, the church discovered that he had a way with words and good oratory skills so they sent him all over Europe where he preached to huge crowds. Enough. On to the fiesta.
This is a BIG fiesta. Thirteen days big. Processions every night. Little boys dressed as Franciscan monks. Cohetes and mariachis galore. Rides. Fireworks. Masses. Food, food, food. Drinks, drinks, drinks. Last night was the culmination of the celebration. It just happened to coincide with the Breakfast Club's dinner at Adelita's, which just happens to be directly next to the Church of San Antonio -- ground zero of the Fiesta. As we were dining, a barrage of cohetes (sky rockets with an enormous bang) were set off in the churchyard and began arcing over the wall to the restaurant. Jason (the owner) ran into the patio to make sure the vast umbrella screening the area had been retracted. It appears that on an earlier evening embers from the cohetes began drifting down on the canvas threatening to incinerate restaurant and diners alike. I love life here. Things quieted down (relatively) while Mass was conducted. We were leaving the restaurant just as Mass got out and the real party began.
Having gotten to the event a tad late we were confused by a couple of things. First, the Aztec dancers were back and really going at it with a statue of Saint Anthony akimbo on their shoulders. It was unclear if they had been in the church and brought him out and were now bringing him back or if they had him somewhere else (why? where?) and were returning him. But as we mulled that over, someone turned to me and said,"Why is there a guy in a gorilla suit with the Aztec dancers?" And so there was. So now it's the Aztec dancers, San Antonio, the guy in the gorilla suit and little boys in friar's outfits all bouncing around in front of the church. Meanwhile a crew of guys are hoisting a giant castillo (see photo) upright in the midst of the crowd prior to its being ignited and about two hundred pounds worth of fireworks exploding. It is a wonder that no one seems to die at these events. Somehow, in my mind, I've kind of made the Aztec dancer thing work by assuming that the church incorporated the indigenous beliefs to swell the ranks of the faithful. However, I believe it will take much deep thought, and perhaps hallucinogens, to understand the role of the gorilla in the celebration of San Antonio.
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| The castillo before it is fully raised & then fully assembled. |
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| The statue of St. Anthony being escorted into the church. |
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| The castillo being raised & secured prior to assembling the remaining pieces. |
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| A young Franciscan outside the Church with his mother. |
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| The castillo is hand made. No smoking allowed here! |
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| A blow up slide for the children on the street in front of the church. |
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| Carnival rides for the children are part of the celebration. |
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| Notice the interesting assortment of objects (cigarettes and beer are prominent) for the children to try to grab with the claw. |
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| There are even pony rides for the very young. |
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| A ferris wheel is part of the fiesta as well. |
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| No fiesta is complete without the mariachis. |
Lucha Libre
While perusing The Guadalajara Reporter last week, I noted that there would be an appearance of Lucha Libre stars Great Eku and Egipcio Junior in Chapala. For those of you unfamiliar with Lucha Libre, it is a form of wrestling/boxing/maiming that makes American wrestling look spontaneous and legit. They also wear extraordinary masks that are way cool. They cover the entire head and look a bit like executioner's masks (I think) but are in much more festive colors and patterns. They sell them at our tianguis. Place your orders now. I have always wanted to see Lucha Libre, but it is only usually in Guadalajara and, assuming the fans are similar to those in the U.S., I would be scared out of my pants to go. But Chapala... less intimidating. We'll see. Maybe we'll make it there.
It is clear that I have not lived here long enough to fully understand the reasoning that goes into many Mexican decisions. This Lucha Libre fight is the final event of the Chapala anti-bullying campaign. Now why would you invite two men whose occupation involves beating the #@*X@#* out of each other to be the highlight of an anti-bullying campaign? The article went on to say that the city plans to open boxing and wrestling programs to "channel youngsters to contact sports as a healthy alternative to street gang violence". Or to help them be more effective at gang fights and beating up the little sissy down the block. Why not rugby? It's hard to kill somebody with a rugby ball. Not impossible probably. But time consuming.
Other Even More Random Notes:
This is THE MOST Annoying
I really hate those guys who run up to you at stop lights and start washing your windows and want money. And I really hate mimes. Well...We've got a mime that runs up to your car and MIMES washing your windows. And wants money. It could only be worse if he married a clown (I hate clowns) who squeegeed them dry. I'm old and cranky.
Is this Statistically Unusual?
It was Chris's birthday. But the same day was Wes's birthday. But the same day was Mary's birthday. How very odd. There aren't that many of us in our immediate gang (probably less than 60). Well, over the combined birthday dinner people threw out the "if you have X number of people in the room , the odds are X....." but then they drifted off because no one could remember the numbers and no one was a math major. So... if you were a math major would you get back to me and tell me if it's odd. Thanks.
So -- Do You Want Me To or Not?
We all went up to the hospital the other day (it's kind of an outing for all of us now) and had a series of appointments so that we are fully "Seguro Populared". Michael and I had the same doctor with back to back appointments. Michael went in first. The Doctor was very nice but ascertained quickly that Michael spoke very little Spanish. He castigated him gently and said that he MUST learn to speak the language. Then I went in. I attempted to navigate my way around the medical terminology and thought I was doing not as horribly as I used to, when the Doc leaned over, patted my hand gently and said, "English is fine my dear." Now, I know my Spanish is horrible. I know because I understood it when another Doctor told my friend Ramon that he couldn't understand me because my accent was horrible. But really, how can I get better if they don't let me inflict myself on them. Oh, boy. Wait until Michael unleashes himself on the next visit. They'll be sorry.
Well, that's it for this installment. You'll be pleased to know that I chose not to dwell on Michael's most recent brush with salmonella, my geriatric-like fall that, while excruciating, proved that I don't have osteoporosis, or any other of life's annoyances (well, except the mime). Both sons are fine and we look forward to seeing both in Boston in a couple of months. Hope you are all well and let us know what's up.
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| A huge wall mural near the University of Guadalajara. |
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| More of the mural. |
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| The end of the mural. Note that the cow is three dimensional and attached to the wall. |
