Santa Maria del Oro

It was Josh's birthday yesterday and we loaded into the van with Annie and the family to head west. About 45 minutes outside of Guadalajara is the pueblo Tequila where appropriately, there are fields and fields of agave plants and tiendas selling tequila all over the place. We stopped and tried the part of the agave plant that they ferment (near its roots). It was sweet like molasses. A bit further down the road we had pollo asado, or grilled chicken, at a roadside stand.
The landscape outside of Guadalajara is spectacular... mountainous and volcanic. I couldn't keep my eyes off the view as we climbed up into the Sierra Madres. Eventually we arrived in the pueblo called Santa Maria del Oro, where there is a beautiful lake plopped in the middle of the mountains. Josh and I, not realizing that swimming would be in order for the day, jumped in the water in our skivies and swam around with Panzon and Annie.
Tomorrow Josh and I will be renting a car to drive to San Blas, very close to Sauta where he and Beth did a story two years ago. Thursday the 20th of November is the Día de la Revolución and there should be a festival there for the occasion. I will be back to report more this weekend.

Mexican Oddities

I figured it was time to talk about a few things that set México apart from the U.S.
Yesterday Josh and I headed to a hospital for "examinations." Not because we are sick, but rather, this is necessary in order to swim in a nearby pool. We had our weight and height measured (in kilos and centimeters which was interesting). Our pulse and blood pressure were taken. We had blood drawn in order to determine our types, and whether we have diseases. And all of this was done TOGETHER. We even shared the same thermometer (sticking it under the armpit rather than in the mouth). They must have figured that we share our lives together, of course we can share an appointment. I found myself comparing my pulse and blood pressure to his, as though it was a competition. And after it was all said and done, our results were given to us out loud in the waiting room. The most wonderful aspect of this appointment, was that it cost around $36 for both of us. Period.
Also.
People here have no qualms about standing very close to each other in lines. And if you don't push right up next to the person in front of you, the next person entering the queu will assume that you are giving them "fronts."
Also.
Never, never carry anything larger than a $200 peso note (roughly $18). There is never change. Or even if there is, the cashier will give you such a hard time that you will buckle and hand over the coins you were saving for your next transaction. There have been a number of times where I have even tried to use a $100 peso note and it has lead to a manager being called over to unlock the vault where the change is stored.
Stay posted, I am sure to have more oddities to note in the coming months.

Wheels

A little update on my bicycle once again. I finally decided that my lopsided wheel just wouldn't cut it any longer, thus, I brought it in with Josh to have it repaired. It turns out that the tire had been a bit too large, and instead of finding one that fit the wheel, the last owner cut the tire to make it fit. It was only a matter of time before... who knows what.
Sans bike, we had to ride the bus this morning. I am not sure if I have described the buses in much depth, so I feel this might be the time to give the lowdown.
Each bus driver has his own (we have yet to find a female bus driver) decorative elements adorning the inside of the bus. This could include, but is not limited to, an image or two of Jesus, a fuzzy rear view mirror cover, dangling baby shoes, and tinted windows.
Bus drivers here take pride in slamming on the accelerator and punching the clutch, and braking hard and fast at traffic lights and stops. People getting on the bus have to move on as quickly as possible, as the driver steps on it once the last person entering has made it up the first step. No matter if you are elderly, disabled, or with child in tow, the driver shows no discrimination and accelerates before most anyone is seated.
Today was particularly interesting for me as I watched an elderly man in the front seat using nose hair pluckers, trimming his nose hairs as the bus jerked all over the place. It seemed wrong on all accounts.

Disparity

Yesterday I met a family that Josh has been photographing. Pedro, the father, and Rocio, the mother, wash windshields at a busy intersection from around 9 AM to 5 or 6 PM every day of the week. When the light turns red, and the cars have stopped, Rocio and Pedro run out into the street and begin beckoning to drivers with their water bottles filled with soapy water. They usually have time for one, maybe two windshields before the light turns green. Normally people give 1 to 2 pesos for Rocio and Pedro's services (around 10 to 15 cents) but there are also those who give nothing.
Meanwhile, Rocio and Pedro's two children sit in the median of this busy intersection. Estrella, who will be 3 in December, plays with anything that she can find of interest on the ground. Yesterday she had twenty flakes of confetti, red and silver, and we exchanged them back and forth as regalos (gifts) for quite some time. She comes dangerously close to the edge of the median as cars whiz by, but has managed somehow to stay "safe."
Juan Carlos was lying in the stroller next to us, squacking occasionally. Juan is extrememly malnourished with, perhaps, a few other problems as well. At the age of one, he cannot sit, let alone crawl or stand. His legs and fingers appear abnormally long and skinny, and his belly is enlarged. He lays in the stroller every day for hours at a time with a soiled diaper, sucking on a bottle with a mixture of formula and questionable water. The whole family is dark from hours of exposure to sun, and dirt. The air they breathe is ridden with exhuast.
They spend their days working so that they can make enough to pay for their 70 pesos a night room in a dilapitated apartement complex of sorts. They cannot manage to make enough to get ahead. The whole family sleeps on the floor, while Pedro's mom and 19-year-old niece sleep on a small bed. The apartment is filthy, and roaches crawl everywhere.
I cannot imagine living this life day after day. I was maddened and frustrated by it all as I left the family, knowing that examples such as this exist all over this city and world.

Critical Mass Mexican Style

Tonight Josh and I joined at least 3,000 other cyclists on the city streets of Guadalajara. On the first Thursday of every month riders gather in Plaza Revolución at 9pm and take over the streets- stalling traffic for some time. It felt like it was redemption for all the times we have been cut off and honked at by cars and buses. Another cool aspect of this event is that there is always a new theme... tonight's was Day of the Dead (note poster above, courtesy of gdlenbici.org). There were people in skeleton outfits, leotards, masks, a few wearing frilly black dresses, many had face paint. And there were all forms of wheeled mechanisms, including a man who rode really close to us on a 7-ish foot high bike. The coolest part of the ride was cruising down into a freeway tunnel- fast- sans cars. Everyone was screeching as they made their way through the tunnel, and the echoes made it seem crazier still.



Afterwards Josh and I rode to a great taquería (taco stand) near our friend Annie's place. This is where I need to mention that I have been eating meat after cutting it out of my diet 14 years ago. Shocking, yes. And I do not think that I will continue this habit upon return to living in the states. But the fact that 92.7% of the items on menus and sold at stands in this country center around some form of meat has swayed me. Frankly, it will not be the a great experience if I stick to cheese.
So we ate tacos pastor- once again I must interject. Tacos here are tiny. And always soft shell. And, as mentioned already, they only have meat inside and are garnished with cilantro and onions. People order many of them at once and eat them off of plates covered by plastic bags (easier to clean that way). Josh and I had four each and a cup of horchata, for the equivalent of $5.

Ba-rock on Dude!

(Thank you Kim, for the clever title)

We are in bliss in Guadalajara. Here's to the change a comin.'

A Lot to Tell

Where to start? First off, Josh is sure to have better photos to post of our friends and the festivities from this past weekend, but consider this the preview.
We jumped in the Toyota minivan with Annie, Super, Panzon, and baby Elena on Friday afternoon to make the four hour drive to Patzcuaro, Michoacán. The scenery along the way was something to be seen... mountains and volcanoes and large stretches of fields with corn and agave growing. Super is known to be a great judge of the best places to stop for food, and so, very close to Patzcuaro he proclaimed that he had found the place, and we stopped by a small house with a few tables set outside and a couple of steaming pots over hot coals. We were told that they had just sold the last of their chicken and mole, but somehow Super managed to talk them into selling us the portions they were making for their dinner that night. We had no idea that this exchange had happened until we were all loaded back in the van, driving the last stretch to Patzcuaro!
We met our friends Jose and Naomi (who drove in from Querétaro) in the center of town where there were stands of all kinds with people selling clay figurines, knitted hats and scarves, wood carvings, jewelry, pottery, food, food, food. There was a constant stream of little kids walking around with little carved calabezas (pumpkins) lit up, and they were all asking for "treats" (money).
We spent the weekend camping at a place just outside of town called Quercus - sans Annie, Super and Elena who checked into a nearby hotel after discovering that they had forgotten their sleeping bags. Josh and I adopted Panzon for two nights. He slept in between us in the tent and giddily squiggled around in his sleeping bag out of excitement to be doing something so novel.

On Saturday, the actual Day of the Dead, we spent much of the day exploring more of the town, and then later boarded a boat to the island of Janitzio. Janitzio was full of more artisan vendors, as well as booth after booth with food. I ate enchiladas and gorditas and drank atole and a michelada... I was completely full of starch.
We walked uphill to the cemetery where there were candles everywhere, with flowers, altars, and food. Though this did not happen so much so at Janitzio, we found the following day at a cemetery in Tzintzuntzan that many people had camped out all night with food and drink next to their loved one's grave(s). Among many of the gravestones were makeshift tents and remnants of campfires, along with boxes of food. Here and there, there were still people sleeping close to the graves. I just could not get over what an amazing and distinct celebration this is. And I felt like we had found one of the greatest places to experience it all.

Marigolds everywhere.

Annie and Elena cuddling

Pan de Muerto- bread that they sell for the holiday

Josh, Jose, and Naomi purchasing cordunas

To end, Annie and crew left on Sunday after we all caught breakfast at another roadside stand. More enchiladas! Naomi, Jose, Josh and I explored more of Tzintzuntzan (hoping this is the last time I have to type that name), and tried to visit the ruins of the P'urépecha people, but we were turned off when we found out that on Sundays everyone was allowed in for free- unless you were from somewhere other than México. Later on we bought cordunas (tamales with poblano peppers, cheese, corn, and perhaps meat) and headed up to our campsite to eat them by a campfire, spending a long time pondering our directions upon return to the states next summer. The following morning we parted ways on such a nice note. We had breakfast (eggs, tortillas, beans, bread, salsa, fresh-squeezed juice, coffee... $16 for all of us) and great conversation before Josh and I headed out by bus, and Naomi and Jose drove their three hour trip back to Querétaro.

The altar created by us, as an ode to our family and friends (Naomi's great idea)