A Fun-Filled Train Wreck of Fiestas

The end of October and beginning of November are pretty wild here.  Religion collides with superstition (some of our pals would argue they are synonymous ), the veil between life and death becomes less opaque, and mucho spirits of the drinkable kind are imbibed.  It is also a photographic feast so get ready for a slew of pics.

The Virgin Gets Some Rest (and so do we)

Our local Virgin spent the month of October going from church to church within the locality visiting the various neighborhoods.  This is a fairly low-key affair by Ajijic standards.  However, every day -- and I do mean EVERY day-- at 5AM several cohetes (large skyrocket firecrackers) are set off to herald her perambulation to her next venue.  A procession would accompany her and mass would be said at the next stop.  Now, we categorize cohetes "attacks" as either Roll Overables or  Life Threatenings. Days 1-30 in October were Roll Overables where you'd just flinch in your sleep, roll over and get on with snoozing.  Day 31 was a Life Threatener.  This is when they detonated about 623 cohetes simultaneously before dawn (remember Gary and Ginny?). We bolted upright in bed, slammed pillows over our heads and waited for the concussive force of the explosions to wander across town and thump us in the stomach-- which it did.  When the roar of the cohetes died down the tuba bands began. Renewed sleep was not an option. You would think that with more than a year of this under our belts we would have become desensitized.  Maybe next year....

Halloween Horror

Why, oh why, do we have to export things like McDonald's and Halloween? I mean the Mexican's have a perfectly magical holiday in Day of the Dead and along we come mucking it all up and confusing small children about what culture they should follow.  However, that said, I must admit that the Mexican Halloween makes me nostalgic for the Halloween of my youth.  You remember.  The one where you made your costume out of weird old clothes and you roamed the neighborhood in packs and no one worried about child molesters and razor blades in apples.  As we very carefully negotiated our way home from The Breakfast Club Thursday night, seas of small children in rag-taggy costumes or no costumes at all were careening across streets and jumping off curbs in a frenzied attempt to score candy.
The irony in this is that Halloween night begins the celebration of the Day of the Dead for the "Angelinos" -- the infants and children who died.  We felt certain that the ranks of Angelitos would swell dramatically that night as the lack of street lights, sugar highs and erratic Mexican driving customs created a perfect storm of Halloween mayhem.

Finally, Why Mexicans Joke about Death Rather than Fear It

Even though I'd been told over and over that Mexicans are OK with death because it's just another phase of life, I just didn't really buy it.  I mean, it's not up to me to decide what they should buy, or not buy, as a belief but I just kind of thought it didn't really make sense.  I mean life is all about  breathing and moving and speaking and heavy emotional content which, let's face it, when you're dead doesn't seem to happen a lot.  So how can it be a phase of life? Well..... I was reading the Guad Reporter the other day and there it was.  The answer.  The Aztecs believed that LIFE wasn't real.  Life is a dream. You only enter reality when you die.  This life thing is just some big, old mirage. Thus, death is your entry to THE BIG EVENT -- LIFE!  The reasoning is a little convoluted but not more so than its inverse, I suppose.   And it certainly does explain the Aztec's proclivity for human sacrifice.  I kept wondering why the populace put up with being marched in large numbers to the tops of temples and having their hearts cut out.  I mean, you'd think there would have been protests.  Now I know.

So fast forward to modern Mexico.  You have this Aztec take on things melded with the conqueror's Catholic concept of heaven-- and death looks pretty danged OK.  Well, for whatever reason, Mexicans have a light hearted approach to the death topic and, while they miss and mourn loved ones, the Day of the Dead is really a celebration.  North Americans have a little difficulty with this as is obvious from my rambling attempts to "get it".   Gringo friends regaled us with the story of attending a Day of the Dead celebration at an elementary school where songs were sung, poems read and little boys dressed in black laid down next to their very own fake coffins.  Not seeing many of those school plays in SWellesley.

So, how did we celebrate?  Met up with some pals and headed to Chapala where we saw the Catrina's. Catrina's originated in the '20s in a cartoon strip of political satire against the foibles of the rich.  They have now become firmly associated with Day of the Dead.  Most of the Catrina's shown were crafted by school children working in teams.  We are always very taken with the way groups work together here on artistic or community projects.  Sometimes it's school based, other times work groups or clubs but the collaborative effort is much more prevalent here than in the U.S.

Then we ambled over to where the altars had been erected on the main street.  Some honored family, others famous people.  All the colored designs on the ground are created out of sawdust and flowers -- most predominantly marigolds and cockscomb but also roses and glads.   Very impressive.

Then back up to Ajijic to take in the action at the Plaza.  Grabbed some dinner, ran into some other friends and waited for the parade to arrive.  Of course, there was a problem resulting in the parade having to be detoured due to a broken down horse cart but everyone took it in stride.  A man dressed as Pedro Loco rode Vino Blanco.  Small children dressed as skeletons balanced precariously on the beds of dump trucks.  Just the usual.  The plaza was packed.  Catrinas danced. People danced.  Tubas played.  Elvis was sung in Spanish.  Lots of street food.  A rollicking good time.

Many of the schools created Catrinas for display on the Ajijic malecon.

All of the Catrinas were made from recycled materials...

and each was more unique in the use of materials.

The malecon in Chapala also had their own Cartrina display.

Our friend Barbara gives an idea of the scale of the Catrinas.

This restaurant even uses a Catrina to display their menu.

These two gentlemen carry on their conversation in the shadow of this Catrina.

Creativity abounds in the variety of Catrinas on display.

The altars recognizing famous individuals are also an important part of Dia de Los Muertos.

The flowers and colored sawdust create intricate designs in front of the altars.

Elaborate face painting is also an intricate part of the clebration.

The altars are very colorful and the candles will be lit when it is dark. Quite flammable really.  Hmmm.

Pan de muertos is also an important tradition at this time.

An example of an altar honoring Selena.

This couple made quite a pair!

This person is depicting a nun being honored at this altar.

Even the Chapala City Hall has a Catrina decorating their balcony!

This altar is honoring Cantinflas, the Mexican Charlie Chaplin, who also appeared with David Niven in "Around the World in Eighty Days".

Checking to make sure the face is perfectly done.

Some of the altars use an astounding number of colorful flowers...

while others also combine an amazing number of objects associated with the dead person.

A tribute to the Aztec origins of this celebration of death.

Back to the Ajijic plaza to be serenaded by a cellist on the left and a person on the keyboard on the right.

This art gallery had an altar on the inside of the gallery...

and on the outside as well.

In the Ajijic parade there was even someone honoring Pedro Loco by riding in the parade on Vino Blanco.

Even the very little ones get involved in the celebration, complete with appropriately painted face.

After the parade it was back to the plaza for the dance of the dead.

The make up and costumes show great creativity...

with couples coordinating their outfits & faces...

and all join in posing for the camera.

Even the local decorations sold at the papaleria have the Dia de Los Muertos theme.

This sculpture adorns the plaza....

as does this recent addition.

The Last Hurrah

Well, in less than two weeks we move into our new digs.  So we felt we had time for just one final croquet party.  Our new, smaller yard is more suited to bocce so we decided we'd better hoot it up one last time on the playing fields of Casa de las Palmas.  About forty folks showed up and, I believe, a good time was had by all.  I think we'll miss this house and we'll always be glad that we spent our first year and a half smack in the middle of the Village.  We will not miss the mirror over the bed, the tiled walls, the popcorn ceiling or the stained glass unicorn and mermaid.  By the way, the latest sale fell through on this old house.  I call it the Curse of the Mermaid.

These photos are courtesy of our good friend Chris, since we were too busy hosting to take pictures.  Yeah, yeah we know.  It's croquet, not crochet.  They sent the photos as a play on words joke and we couldn't remove them.  Joke's on us.

Just a Few More Random Items:

*  Years ago, when we lived in San Antonio my friend Kent and I had a contest for the most bizarre headline in the Rupert Murdoch owned newspaper (his first in the U.S.).  Winners were: 1) Man Mistakes Mother-In-Law for Raccoon -- Kills with Ax;  2) Uncle Tortures Tiny Tot with Hot Fork; and 3) Aliens Fight in Pitched Urine Desert Battle.  Well Kent, this one's for you:  "Mexico Clown Convention Condemns Costumed Drug Cartel Killing".  The article goes on to say that "Delegates to the three day clown convention in Mexico City distanced themselves from the murder of a drug lord by a costumed clown."  They said "no genuine member of the profession would commit such a crime".  I was so relieved.

For those desiring to read this fascinating article and see full color pictures of the clowns, just follow this link: www.theguardian.com/world/2013/oct/24/mexico-clown-convention-drug-cartel-killing .

  -- P.S.  Can't resist this one either:  "Mom Lets Son Wear KKK Halloween Costume.  Says it is a Family Tradition."- Craigsville Va.  When asked to expand she says: " My brother wore it when he was in kindergarten and when he was 15."  Must have been a mini skirt KKK by then.

*  I'm always saying how the cost of living is great here.  But quirky.  Michael and I set out to buy those little ceramic things that hold a toilet bowl brush.  A York brand one runs about $10 in the U.S. Here it cost $850 (pesos).  That's about $70 USD.  We somehow managed to pass it by.  On the other hand, two guys spent two full days reinforcing our floor, pouring concrete, cutting and installing tile and the bill was $295.  Go figure.

* Zombies at it again.  We had the annual Zombie Thriller Fund Raiser weekend before last.  It raises money for Cruz Roja (Red Cross) and is always fun.  Just including it because I love zombie pictures. You'll note that Santa was an integral part of the Zombie Festivities.  At least they didn't do him up in Zombie makeup-- although that might have scared the muchachos of the Village into really being good before Christmas.

Two zombies posing for the camera.

This dog with the colorful "do" was cruising through the plaza after the zombies danced.

In addition to the zombies, there was the annual pumpkin carving contest...

with colorful pumpkins and people.

This year a zombie parade was added after the dance & even included an early appearance by Santa Claus.

All the world loves a parade, even the zombies who managed to cram as many zombies as possible into this pick up....

while others rode in golf carts.

The zombies included white collar types...

and even a cheer leader zombie.

* Climate Change?  Rainy season always stops mid to late September.  Not this year.  We've had two hurricanes (I don't know if they qualify) but also on and off night rains throughout October.  On Saturday night (November!) we just made it home before a huge Thunderstorm rolled in.  It's raining now.  And it's November--- something, I forget.

Well, our next missive will probably be penned at the new abode.  If it takes a little while to reach you it's just because we have to get the electronics up and running and find out where everything is.  Have fun. Take care.

A Month Without Fiestas --- Sigh.....

Since we have come to Mexico we have not gone a month, perhaps not a week, sometimes not two days, without a fiesta.  And, not to mislead you, there have been fiestas this month.  It is just that we have not partaken of them because of: 1) Michael's knee; 2) an evil sinus infection; and 3) the angst of real estate transactions (more on that later).  So, we've missed the Month of Fiesta in Guadalajara and the triumphant return of the Virgin from her romp about the lake.  But, once more in fine fettle, we are gearing up for Day of the Dead at the end of October and promise more photos of prancing, dancing and partying.  But to attend to the reasons we have been fiesta-less -- with the exception of the sinus infection which is just too disgusting to dwell on.

A Knee Update

Won't you be glad when he is totally healed and we don't have to go into this? I will.  Anyway, Michael has proven an exceptional patient and is now cavorting about the house and tap dancing on the cobblestones without so much as his walking stick.  This is due to the fact that he has been scrupulous about performing seventeen hours a day of physical therapy. This involves working out in the exercise casita, water aerobics in the pool and lying on the bed constricting his stomach muscles -- which I don't understand but seems to work.  He has been injected with some miracle goo which is supposed to lubricate him for some indeterminate number of months and, all in all, things are peachy.  End of that.

Michael in the pool for fifteen minutes of leg kicks (just one part of his pool regimen).

Michael on the bed doing his pillow leg squeezes (again just one part of the regimen).

Why Real Estate is Not About Trust

There are reasons there are contracts.  And there are reasons there are very specific contracts.  And now we vividly understand all those reasons.  And it has been a pain.  In "the contract" we bought our new house and its "entire contents".  Well, there were a few exclusions in the second version of the contract. Very specific.  Two decorative plates, five copper clad pans, 3-5 serving pieces.  I mean THAT is specific.  Good.  But then, we're not quite sure when, two words were added.  Personal items.  I noted them first while reviewing the contract at our lawyer's.  "Where did that come from?" I asked Michael.  "Hmmm. Don't know."  We talked to our agent and we said: "Here is the definition of personal items.  Clothes. Toiletries.  That's it."  He agreed, talked to the other agent who swore he talked to the woman packing her house who also agreed. Okay.  Fine.  Reiterated this with both agents multiple times.  No problem. Until....

The closing date kept slipping.  It was because they had a mortgage and a trust -- two very unusual things in our cash-only economy.  But we were cool with it since we didn't have to move until November.  The agents gave us the keys to the place so we could start some work.  Michael had taken a complete photo inventory of the house's contents.  Good Michael. Very good Michael.  Because, when we took a peek around, we realized things were missing.  Many things.  Like 75 things.  Some quite valuable. Upon inquiry, it appears the owner felt that Wedding Gifts (not stipulated) were personal items.  And she must have had a lovely wedding.  My demeanor was that of a rabid terrier as I began the quest for the return of the items.  I really do dislike being snookered.  A lot.  While Michael's approach was businesslike and taciturn, I concentrated on wiping the froth from my jaws and going for the jugular.  Poor realtors.  They behaved admirably, and the vast majority of items were returned and financial compensation provided for the few items that remained elusive. Like the beautiful towel rack with the hand hewn copper plate.  "My dead brother made that for me," she said.  Obviously it was so dear to her that she failed to list it --while listing her five copper clad pans.  Really.  But even a rabid terrier can only traverse the bounds of decency so far.... so enjoy dear lady.

The Forest for the Trees

It pays to have a sense of humor.  I was seated at the dining room table surveying the bounty which had been returned to our rightful ownership while Damien, our new gardener, was watering the interior plants.  I glanced over my shoulder towards where he was watering a particularly splendid specimen when I noted that a small rug under the plant had its corner turned back.  Wait...  What was that?  Why was there plywood where travertine tile should be?  I inquired "Que es eso?"  He replied "Escalera secreta"  Huh?  Secret staircase?  What?  Well, it turns out there used to be a staircase going from the living room to the casita.  Now you reach it via an outdoor staircase.  But why?  Why wouldn't you put in tiles?  Why???  Quien sabe as we say.  While obsessing about the return of the missing items, we might have spent more time focusing on things like.... well, secret staircases.  Live and learn.  No big deal. We hope.

The Insanity NOB

Clearly this whole fiasco with the shutdown and the debt ceiling is too much for me to get into. However, I was driving the other day listening to talk radio.  It was, of course, in Spanish, but I did manage to get the drift.  The two female reporters were discussing Obamacare and it went sort of like this:
"Ayyyee.  I don't understand why all the americanos are so angry about Obamacare.  Do they not want their poor people to have insurance?"

"Si.... many of them think it is terrible."

"But why? America is rich.  We have Seguro Popular for our poor people and Mexico is not rich like them.  Do they want the poor people to die?"

"Some of them think that the Communists will come if they have Obamcare I think."

"But, we are not Communist.  What do you do if you are sick and you do not have money in America? Do you just stay home and die?"

"No..... well, maybe. "

This went on for quite a while.  They just couldn't wrap their heads around the concept that America would reject giving medical treatment to all their people.  Neither can I.

A Related Note

I became so incensed after listening to another statement on the news by Cruz about how Obamacare was the end of the world as we know it, that I wrote a letter to the N.Y. Times.  I had just talked to our 27 year old son Justin who had investigated the California exchange for  health care options.  I was spurred by outrage and two glasses of wine (oh-- only ONE Santiago).  He has been paying $192 per month with a $8k deductible and $50 copay.  He was quoted $65 with a $500 deductible and $15 copay after subsidies.  They emailed me the next morning and it ran the next day.  People need to start getting these stories out.  But don't feel pressured.

The Pepper Spray Bandit

Yes, we live in the land of banditos.  It's true.  But this one is a gringo.  He hit the village last year robbing many houses in Rancho del Oro (Gold Ranch-- but what's in a name, eh?).  Despite quite an accurate description--  gringo, 5/9" tall, pony tail, ball cap, shorts, silver Jeep, skinny legs etc. -- our crack police force was unable to capture him and his cohorts.  He is called the Pepper Spray Bandit for the obvious reason.  If confronted while doing his nefarious deeds, he zaps the person with pepper spray and takes off.  After about three months of eluding our finest protective services, he headed off for greener fields when the heat intensified.

Now, he's back. Only this time it is La Floresta.  The leafy, tree shaded neighborhood east of us populated by Gringos with many plasma TVs and muchas computadoras.   But just to tell you how ballsy this guy is..... An old gringo came home to witness his electronics being loaded into the now infamous silver Jeep.  As the Pepper Spray Bandit leapt into his car to make his get away, our own brave geriatric floored his car and followed him through the quiet streets of La Floresta.  As they approached the carreterra and the possibility of encountering policia increased,  the Pepper Spray Bandit threw on the brakes.  He jumped out of the car, brandishing a tire iron and his Pepper Spray and ran towards the pursuing geriatric. Allegedly he beat up the gringos car with the tire iron and sprayed him with the spray.  Now, here is where having a youthful brain and reflexes would have been good. Rather than flooring it and running the Pepper Spray Bandit over, probably not an offense in Mexico, the guy retreated.  Boo but understandable.

La Floresta has its own security force.  He's dealing with a different breed of cat now. This guy has upped the ante.  He has enraged the La Floresta Protective Services. On each entrance to the neighborhood is posted a large full color poster stating "Se buscan" (we're looking for them).  You'll love it.  I've got a gas mask in my car and I'm keeping my eyes peeled.  More later.

We're looking for them!

One of the accomplices of "The Pepper Spray" bandit.

"The Pepper Spray Bandit" himself!

And I Thought It Was Just a Ratty Hotel

You know we've never had a very successful trip to the coast.  And our first was no exception.  I thought we were going to La Manzanilla but I got confused and booked us into Manzanillo.  Come on, they're close. So, I got us a room at La Posada which was touted to be right on the Ocean and the most established hotel in the area.  Well, it was pretty run down and very, very pink.  And the restaurant/bar was filled with Canadians and Americans who seemed to start drinking at about 11AM and stopped... well, never.  So, we did our time and left and vowed never to go there again.  Case closed.

Then I happened upon an article in the Times or Esquire about Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters. You remember them.  I KNOW you remember them.  It turns out when Kesey was on the lam with his wife and pregnant mistress, and the rest of the fun-filled gang, they hung out at ..... you guessed it.... the beach right next to La Posada.  Hurrah!  A reason to have stayed there!  They interviewed the guy who owned it and the guy who was a big mover and shaker in those circles then but they didn't illuminate much.  By their own admissions, they were so stoned all the time that they have only vague memories or maybe flashbacks or maybe repressed memories or maybe.... Well, anyway, at least I now have something interesting to say about that trip to the coast.

Vino Blanco -- Homeless?

Many will remember Vino Blanco, the white donkey, that was willed from Pedro Loco to Yves prior to Pedro's death.  Well, Vino has been happily grazing in front of Yves' restaurant ever since greeting his peeps and munching lavishly on the scraps from the restaurant.  (Note photo of portly, yet still adorable, Vino.)  Now, rumor has it, Yves has to move his restaurant up to near the carreterra -- hardly a suitable environment for a donkey used to rambling beachside at his whim.  This, of course, is all rumor.  But everything in Mexico is rumor until a week or two after the fact and sometimes even then. But fear not. This is the most animal-centric community I have ever lived in.  They'll be lining up to adopt him.  A report shall follow.

The latest photo of Vino Blanco.

Murals

I know this is getting long but the muralists have been busy.  Just since Michael's been out of commission new murals have popped up around town.  So yesterday we had a ramble on his newly constituted legs and snapped some shots.  Note the Mother and Child Manatee portrait.  This is a highly sentimental view of the manatees of Lake Chapala since they were beaten to dispatched and eaten before any of them could even become romantically involved (See earlier blog on manatees as method of water hyacinth control).  Well, honestly and truly, this is it.  Done.  No more.  Take care.

One of the latest colorful murals to appear on the walls of Ajijic.

This latest mural requires more than one photo...

and breadth....

and depth of this new mural.

Note the mother manatee cradling the baby to the left of the painted pole.

A series of sunset shots taken from the terrace of our new house...

with one more dramatic than the next...

or the next...

until the grand finale!