Headed South

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Summertime and the Living is...Well, slow.

A Break in the Action

It's been a while since a blog but that is because there has been no one defining event deemed "immediately blog inducing" in the last several weeks. We have gone OVER a month without a parade, no cajotes have been exploding at 4 AM and even the village dogs are just lying in the middle of the street lethargically. But August has not been without it's charms, so we will sort of paste together bits and pieces and promise that September will yield more dramatic events.

Well, If You Want Drama....

I'd suggest you attend the Gay Miss Ajijic Beauty Pageant as we were fortunate enough to do. We assembled a crew of our gay and straight friends and swung on down to Bugambillas Plaza for the event. Actually, it wasn't in a Plaza but in the lobby/ballroom (hard to tell) of the local movie theatre. It was supposed to start at 8:30 PM, so pals Alex and George and Michael and I gulped our drinks and dinner to be sure we were on time. WHAT were we thinking? When we arrived and met up with the rest of the gang, they were only beginning to decorate the stage and had just spun up the disco ball on the ceiling that gave the room an ambiance of "je ne sais quoi". By 10:30 (well past the straight Gringo bedtime) they were beginning the contest which featured parading across the stage, introducing themselves, and performing a dance number. Thankfully no one tossed batons or anything. First, let me say that all the contestants looked WAY better than I did -- if a little tarty. The dance performances varied greatly in both musical style and ability with our group favorite being the contestant that almost careened off the stage multiple times. At midnight, with the contest still going strong, we crept off to our little old people beds while the band played on.

Most people think that Mexico is a conservative culture wrapped in (or warped by) the strictures of the Catholic Church. But NON! As an example, take the Gay Beauty Contest. Many straight people were there. Our gardener, who was the bartender at furst looked a little baffled that his old, gringo employers were there -- but no big deal. Whole families (including small children) were there. There were no cat calls, no pickets, no nada. Everyone had fun. And Jalisco (our state) is supposed to be one of the most conservative states in Mexico. God knows what goes on in Baja!

The contestants line up to strut their stuff.

The one emcee looks a little like Pee Wee Herman.

More of the contestants lined up with their numbers held by their side.

The talent portion of the contest featured props & ...

lip-syncing as well.

On Related Matters....The End of a (Short) Era

You may remember previous blog entries about El Piano Rojo (The Red Piano). You know, the partners from Puerto Vallarta and Francine the transgendered former ice truck driver, logger and currently very successful artist. We LOVED the Red Piano. Sadly, it just closed this month. For those just catching up, the Red Piano was a cabaret. A cabaret! In our tiny pueblo! Weren't we lucky to have good, live entertainment in a cozy, clubby atmosphere. But luck never tops cash. In spite of trying everything under the sun including Movie Night, Karaoke Night, Gay Acts, Straight Acts, Open Mic Night -- they just couldn't make it work. We went to the last two nights before closing and it was very bittersweet. Kateri (very unsure of spelling) did a belly dance and Francine sang a stirring rendition of Ring of Fire. Really good musicians performed. On the last night they just emptied the bar stock and it was all on the house. In retrospect, even if the business model couldn't be supported by a town this size, we should have just all adopted it as a charity. Lord knows we have charities for everything else here and cabarets are an art form...kind of. Oh well, too late. But I think we've all learned our lesson. If someone starts something here that you like you better be there A LOT if you want it to last.

The stage is set for one of the last performances at El Piano Rojo.

Open mic night featured a ukelele player....

and a band playing music with a Spanish flavor,

which was joined by two gringos. The sax player is a professional musician who plays twelve instruments.

On the final night we were treated to belly dancing and ....

karaoke by Francine among others.

Deirdre comments on the performance to Jorge while our friends Todd and Donna dance in the background.

A Party for Paco

Most of us try to just ignore birthdays at this stage but for our younger friends like Paco birthdays are not yet so tinged by encroaching mortality. So, to celebrate we all headed down to Nueva Posada for a party. As the night progressed more and more people showed up, the Spanglish factor increased, and the room was filled to bursting. But THAT was just the pre-party. The real action (missed by all the old Gringo's -- except Jim--due to bed times) went on until dawn down in Chapala at Jim's house. But even though it was at his house, even JIM ditched around 3AM. I can not exaggerate Mexican's ability to party.

A Rare Summer Visitor

We always have a bunch of visitors from January until March or April but most of our friends and family linger in the States for those fleeting days of summer. We understand. When you only have three or four months of warmth why head south. But our friend Marilyn bucked the trend and came to visit for a week. We rambled and gamboled and ate a bunch and she met our friends and we even did a little real estate foray. Always trying to entice our favorite people to retire here...or at least winter here. Or summer here. Pick your most horrific season and come!

When taking guests to Tlaquepaque, you never know what you will encounter. From the Danza de los Voladores (Dance of the Flyers) from Vera Cruz, who were performing in the plaza...

to the waiters racing with a tray of glasses filled with water, there is always some new form of entertainment.

A trip with guests to Tlaquepaque is not complete without a trip to the gallery of the sculptor & designer Sergio Bustamante. This is the back garden of the gallery.

The whimsical sculptures of Bustamante are scattered here & there...

and everywhere throughout the garden.

Other stores in Tlaquepaque also display interesting items, such as this swinging pair.

Even the bases of the trees are decorated in Tlaquepaque, ...

and the arches too.

I don't know how large the candle was at the base of the crosses in the beginning, but judging by the amount of wax covering the stone base, it must have been quite large.

Our good friend Marilyn posing in the obligatory picture in the giant chair.

Finally August Redeems Itself!

Breaking News! On the last day of August we finally got a big event in town. The Charreria came to town. We've written about these events before but the photos really tell the tale. Charrerias came into being as contests between workers on different haciendas to determine who had the best riding, roping and associated skills. While the hacienda life has faded, the charros and charras continue -- some are fifth generation from the same Charro families. Well, once again we were overly punctual. It started at 1:00, we arrived at 2:15 and things started grinding along around 3ish. Favorite moments: 1) the tuba band starts up and the littlest charra (about 5 years old) finds herself on a run away horse spooked by the hideous refrain. She is recovered and three people come over and talk seriously to the horse. Really; 2) They put "horn hats" on the bull so he won't gore the rider or the horses during the roping session. He looks silly and seems somewhat bored; 3) The charros have stretchy rain hats they pull over their gigantic sombreros when the skies threaten. Who makes such a thing? How many would ever be needed? All in all a nice time.

As you can see only the gringos arrive early.

Even before the official start there is impromptu entertainment and charro tequila imbibing.

In charro the females always ride sidesaddle.

Note the braiding on the horse's tail.

The Mexican version of the Marlboro man. Look closely.

The most important part of a live Mexican band at a charreria is to play very loudly.

The very young learn Escaramuza, a form of charreria which blends rodeo, horseback ballet and speed.

Leading the runaway horse back to the group.

Imagine riding side saddle with the horse at a full gallop...

and then slamming on the "brakes"...

so that the horse comes to a complete stop as quickly as possible.

These next two photos demonstrate the "balletic" nature as the horses cross in front of each other...

and rotate around one another.

This charro demonstrates how tightly his horse can turn circles.

One of the events involved roping a running horse by the hind legs. It took several attempts, but someone finally managed to rope the horse.

There was one bull rider, but note the horn covers to protect the rider and horses from being gored.

The ride was very short.

A rain hat is covering this sombrero.

What's Next

We're due to hit the road in less than a week. We'll be briefly in New England catching up with Alex (our youngest) more family and friends and then off to Morocco. Should be back in Ajijic in early October with more tales to tell. Fear not. Morocco is shielded from Ebola by a stretch of the Sahara. Or so I tell myself (is Ebola worth a phobia #19? -- no not yet). Michael is trying to convince me we need to take a sailing vacation on the Sea of Cortez (Baja) this winter. We'll see. George, our friend who used to sail there a lot, regaled me with tales of Giant Squid twenty feet long that come out at night and eat people. Some salesman, that George. Anyway, enjoy what's left of summer and we'll be in touch upon our return.

Our friends Alejandra (Alex) & Jorge (George) in their newly purchased double kayak.

The local birds enjoy using the fishing boats as a resting place.

They do not make very good house guests because they never clean up after themselves.

This sculpture was one of the items at a recent art auction.

After the auction there was ballet folclorico entertainment.

Note the detail on the costumes.

One of the many vendors by the plaza offering colorful items for sale.

Can you imagine your primary school having such colorful, graphic (and warlike and religious) images?

Friday, August 1, 2014

Wasted in the Huasteca -The Saga Continues

Will We EVER See a Waterfall?

You all know our problem. We go looking for waterfalls. We don't find them. Or some tragic event intervenes and we can't go. Well, we were scheduled to go to TWO beautiful waterfalls the next day. Once more tragedy (well, a bit of hyperbole) strikes. By 5 PM, upon our return from Edward James' place, it was clear that we were going nowhere anytime soon. As we hobble out of the van Michael says,"Oh, I definitely can feel Bone A vigorously scraping against Bone B in my right knee. Ayeeee!" My issues are more muscular, resulting in my legs being unable to bend or function with any degree of proficiency. Clinging to each other for support, we limp to the bar to medicate ourselves. While morosely downing a couple of cool ones, we decide that tomorrow's adventures are out of the question. We must remain inert and let our bodies heal. Aldo drops by to see how our day went. Assessing the situation, he instructs Angel (he is as his name implies) to fetch various items to help mend us. Angel returns with a black ointment most commonly used on injured livestock, tylenol and pomade of peyote. We pass on the cow fixer but take him up on the tylenol and pomade of peyote. When the peyote cream fails to do the trick topically, Michael suggests we just eat the stuff. No. Probably not. Rafael stops by to cheer us up. He says that Aldo and he are going to make a special meal the next night and asks if we want to be part of it. Absolutely. Something to live for!

So, the next morning our merry tribe leaves without us. We relax by the pool, read, sip cool drinks and feel sorry for ourselves. We watch Jose and his pals spend hours cutting up all sorts of interesting food and placing each type in a separate bag. The van gang returns and tells us all about the waterfalls. We feel a little better because it has rained so much over the past weeks that the Civil Protective Service (or something like that) has ruled the water too dangerous for boats-- so part of the trip didn't happen. And they had to be really careful swimming because the rate at which the water was coming over the falls created hydraulics that could suck you in.... and not let you out. And now, it's time for dinner.

One of the denizens of La Malanca. He was not part of dinner... I'm pretty sure.

The beautiful garden at La Malanca

Aldo and Rafael throw on their aprons and fire up the propane and the largest wok-like appliance I have ever seen. They are going to make discada. This is a dish from Northern Mexico that was invented by farm hands. They took the disc harrow from a disc plow, washed it (we hope) and then, over a fire, made what kind of looks like a paella but isn't. The photos will reveal all. Rafael was Aldo's "best man" and stirred the huge pan constantly as Aldo added the ingredients. Here are the ingredients that I can remember: onions; peppers (three kinds), chiles; potatoes; tomatillos (green tomatoes); red tomatoes; beef; chicken; and pork. There were probably more. Oh, and secret sauce. This all takes about an hour. And then, Rafael hoists the tequila bottle and pours a cross on top of the whole dish. At this point, Jose cranks up a second grill and the tortillas are prepared. Throw the tortillas on your plate, scoop on the discada and enter a new level of gustatory delight. So there we sat at a picnic table, watching the sunset over the garden, eating discada and drinking good wine and laughing and chatting in Spanglish with Rafael and his family. Aldo and his wife joined us for conversation, laughter and dessert. Truly a great evening.

Aldo adding ingredients to the discada.

Aldo adding his secret sauce, while Rafael looks on.

Jose, who took great care of us the whole time we were at La Malanca.

All of the ingredients have been added & simmering for quite a while, ...

the only thing left to do is to add the mezcal.

Aldo & Rafael posing before their brilliant gustatory creation.

Jose warms the tortillas while Angel looks on.

Aldo & his wife in the very back with Rafael, his wife, daughters, sister-in-law & niece with Deirdre.

A Road Less Taken

Once again we must curtail our partying because we are to be in the van at 6 AM the next day to go to Real de Catorce. This town was founded in 1778, is at the top of a VERY BIG mountain and once had 105 operating gold and silver mines. Sissies can get there by driving on a paved road and going through a tunnel that was hewn out of the mountain by hand in 1895. But would that be any fun? NOOOOO. Aldo has arranged a tour where we can ascend to the town by the original, rock, gravel & dirt (at best) one lane (if that) road that clings precipitously to the mountainside with drops of several thousand feet for the entire trip. You can imagine my excitement (chant phobia #1 at this point). We will get there in Willy's jeeps that were built sometime in the 50's -- or the 60's maybe. But first we are driven to the staging point where our guide takes us into his house (I think) and we sit at this huge table and have a massive breakfast. He has peyote plants in his patio. By now, we have added more people to the tribe. There is the young couple who'd been with us, Rafael and his gang and now two more families from Guadalajara. Alejandro and his wife have two teenage boys and Mario and his wife have three. It is much more fun to go on a trip like this with teenage boys because they will do ANYTHING as long as it is pretty dangerous and fun.

Alejandro, Mario & their families along with the couple in the back left, who are newly married.

Having consumed what is now our normal 4,000 calorie breakfast we head for the Jeeps. They are ancient but very cool. Two benches in the back and a front seat. Two of them will seat (hmmmm, let's see) 14. But there are more of us than that. Ha! People will ride on top! Who wants to? A surprising number of people. Of course, the teenage boys and Rafael's daughters and, of course, Rafael. Not me. There are no seat belts etc. because that would be ridiculous. Will a seat belt save you when you plunge 2 or 3,000 feet off a cliff. I think not.

A flowering cactus outside our guide's house.

The Willys Jeep loaded & ready to go. You can barely make out the people on top behind the leaves of the tree.

We stop at a hacienda that was a mining headquarters. Small children are selling geodes. This is how little they see Gringos in this area. The kids start selling geodes to our Mexican tribe members and leave us alone. This never happens. Usually it is like we have big signs over our heads "Gringos -- we'll buy ANYTHING from cute kids". We are confused. It is an interesting place and I never want to leave because that means I will have to get back in the Willy and teeter along cliffs that grow more terrifying by the meter. And they do. But eventually we are there -- in Real de Catorce. I think. But then we drive through it and continue on the truly bad road. And then we stop.

Interesting cactus plants on our way up the mountain.

Rafael & his two daughters on top of the Willys.

Selling geodes, water & snacks by the abandoned mining headquarters.

The smelter at the abandoned mine, ...

with some very fancy detail at the base of the smelter.

Even though the buildings have been long abandoned, ...

some of the intricate, original detail is still evident.

The ever present shrine to the Virgin is still maintained.

So, once again, we have a guide who is wonderful and very funny and speaks only Spanish (well, it IS Mexico) at about 784 words per minute. As I stand there, turning my head from side to side and looking totally lost, Alejandro comes up to me. Actually, this started at the mining hacienda. He speaks really great English (worked for HP, entrepreneur now) and he is explaining everything to me and I, in turn, to Michael. So, where are we?

Our Mexican guide explaining, in very rapid Spanish, something we do not comprehend until Alejandro translates for us.

We are in the heart of the Wirikuta (I feel like I'm back in New Zealand) which is the sacred land of the Huichol indigenous group. They live in Jalisco (our state), Nayarit and a couple of other places. But every year, they do a pilgrimage to the Wirikuta and visit five sacred sites. We are standing looking at one (or more) of them. The guide explains that the pilgrimage by foot takes between 13 and 25 days of constant walking. Then he explains that every pilgrim is registered. Why? Because if you are not registered and don't do the walk then you are not eligible for your ration of peyote. Peyote is very sacred to the Huichol. And what is your ration of peyote? The guide says 20 kilos. I yell at Alejandro, "WHAT? Did he say 20 kilos? Am I doing the math right? Is that 44 lbs. of peyote?" Alejandro shrugs. I'm not sure about any of this but I can name you a lot of people who would walk 13 days for 44 lbs. of peyote. Not our friends of course......

I am relieved when I find out that the town we went through WAS Real de Catorce and we don't have to climb that rotten mountain any more. And Real de Catorce is really cool. With 105 mines it was a very rich place and all the rich people built big mansions and nice churches and cock fighting rings and bull rings and such. And then, in 1905 the price of gold and silver plunged. And they shut the mines. But the rich people stayed there because as soon as the prices would go up, they figured, they would open up the mines again. But then, in 1910, there was a bit of a fuss. The rich people thought it was just a little uprising so they left everything where it was and said they would come back when things settled down. Wrong. It was the Mexican Revolution. Ten years of it. The town was abandoned. But then, in the 1960s, new settlers arrived. Swiss and Italian hippies. I know. Swiss hippies? Really? But true. These were the years that Ken Kesey was camping on the beach in Manzanillo and busing around Ajijic and environs using many unusual herbals. And all those rich, gay guys were hanging out in Cuernavaca. And I think Liz and Dick were in Acapulco or Puerta Vallarta or somewhere. And the Swiss and Italian hippies were in Real de Catorce. Those were the days my friends.... Now, other people are buying up the mansions. And guess what they are finding? Money. Left behind. Buried. Hidden. Cool. Not from the hippies. From the rich people. The hippies didn't renovate.

The view from above Real de Catorce.

The topography here was much more desert-like, in contrast to La Huesteca.

The ubiquitous Mexican burro.

This was the bull ring of Real de Catorce. Notice the boy in the back right playing with the soccer ball.

The soccer ball comes whizzing across as I snap this picture of horseback riders passing the bull ring.

Our guide explained that this was called a dollar tree, because the color of the leaves look like American money. Well, I don't know. He said something. It might have been that. Actually I think it was Rosa....

Note the detail on this church built by the Franciscans.

The interior of the church, with its painted walls and cupola, was also interesting.

The Virgen de Guadalupe looks down on the infant Jesus above the altar.

The graveyard in front of the church had some interesting monuments.

The decorations on the doors to the entrance to the graveyard & church are peyote buttons. The Catholic Church was really good at incorporating indigenous beliefs and sacred objects into a hybrid religion that seemed to work for most people.

This was the cock fighting ring in Real de Catorce. The acoustics in the center of the ring returned an echo.

This shows the up & down nature of the streets in the town.

So, we wander around Real de Catorce and get back in the Jeeps. I am relieved because there is talk that we will now go through the tunnel. The tunnel that leads to the paved road for the sissies. Oh yes, good. But we drive through the tunnel... and turn around...back through the tunnel to the totally scary road and now we are going DOWN. Words fail me. But we stop halfway down and the driver of the second jeep goes and gets his wife/sister/mother/friend -- quien sabe? And she is selling pomade de peyote, shampoo made from things I don't understand, and a couple of other things. We all buy huge amounts of all of it. Who KNOWS when you may need it. Miraculously, we arrive back at the staging area in one piece. We go back into the guide's place and have an absolutely wonderful dinner. Perhaps another 4,000 calories worth. Then we are treated to "organic" mezcal. Organic? Who cares? This stuff could burn the fur off a rabbit. But delicious. Stuffed, we get back into the van and drive two or three hours (who is counting at this point?) back to La Malanca.

The main church in Real de Catorce.

This dress/robe is covered with milagros. They are small metal shapes (like a leg, a heart etc.) that you buy and hang on the article of clothing in the church to help you. So break a leg, get a leg milago. Milagro means miracle. You get it.

The church had these very interesting floors, which could be lifted up. To what purpose? Unknown.

The interior of the church.

The light coming through the windows highlighted the detail work.

And once more a shrine to the Virgen de Guadalupe.

A Huichol woman in her colorful dress sitting on the stoop.

One of our "four thousand calorie" meals at the guide's house.

A peyote cactus.

It's over. We have to leave La Malanca the next day. Rafael and his gang say they are coming back in November and Michael and I say we'll come too. Alejandro -- are you up for it? There is still much to see and do.

We had not actually spent any time in San Luis Potosi so we booked a hotel for one night there. It was great. The best was the Museum of the Mask. I'm telling you that those people in Michoacan and Guerra have some pretty hideous nightmares. Wait until you see their masks in the photos. Perhaps one of the best breakfasts we've ever had was at a place called Cafe Cortao that we found on Trip Advisor. Mexican friends take note. Then back into the calm, safe arms of Ajijic. Every day in Mexico is a treasure... honesto! More soon.