Take a little trip, take a little trip with me: Lake Patzcuaro, Michoacan

A public service announcement will have to suffice for my own photography during the Night of the Dead observance.  What you see in that link, I saw-and so much more.  I made a conscious decision not to take my camera so I could (1) be fully present (2) not have a falling down accident in the dark. I can't say anything that could fully express the mood of the night: serene, surreal, solemn.

If you remember from the butterfly post, the Purepecha people of Michoacan believed the returning monarch butterflies were the souls of their recently departed.  The Night of the Dead ceremonies coincide with the arrival of the monarchs that migrate from the north.  The actual ceremonies are solemn and held in the graveyards but as 21st Century shenanigans would have it-the fun abounds in the small towns of Michoacan. There was plenty of drinking and eating and partying. Maybe a little too much for some folks.

 The sugar!

The cuties! (taken by a friend)

Now for the historical portion of our program: Atrocities perpetrated by the Spanish on the Tarasco and Purepecha Indians were substantial. Atonement was attempted by a Spanish bishop named Vasco de Quiroga.  He helped each village around Lake Patzcuaro hone a craft or skill. He is much revered and beloved in the area, monuments to him are everywhere. Whatever. Mommy is getting a bathtub!

Santa Clara is known for its copper works.  These little boys were grandsons of the man in the red shirt.  Employees didn't show up for work, so they were pressed into service, demonstrating the skills needed to make the beautiful things we saw. Do yourself a favor and click on the picture.

Tzintzuntzan (remind you of the noise hummingbirds make? Well, there you have it!), another little village around the lake, was once an ancient capital of the Purepecha.  There are prehistoric ruins still standing but the important centers of "pagan" worship were destroyed so that Catholic churches could be built in their place.  The Spanish generally left one small part of an original wall to show what was there before.  This was a beautifully restored monastery instead of a church and I loved that the work was done by young Mexican apprentices learning the art and craft of restoration.

This is a part of the original wall showing an ancient spiral carving.

I really enjoyed the monastery and the obvious pride our guide had in the restoration.

Other things I saw during the weekend, in no particular order:

 The bakery...lordy lordy.

 Underneath the fog is Lake Patzcuaro.

 This guy is a famous artisan working in a small shop.  He made the official nativity for the Vatican seven years ago. He's hand rubbing chia seed oil with pigment into the tray.  I asked about his hands and he told me after the third day of rubbing his skin begins to shred. He was finishing up carving the tray when we arrived.

 This is his lovely wife who paints exquisite boxes.

One little cool snap makes the poinsettias burst out in bloom.

It was a lovely weekend focused on honoring those who have gone before us.  I don't mean to preach, but the celebration is so much more meaningful than what Halloween has become in the US.  I am still reveling in the spirit.

Mid October 2015, light breeze, high clouds and 24C.

In August, this happened:

 Then this:

Then this happened, so I spent two lovely weeks in Charlotte with my mom:

In late September, this happened (and in truth, is still happening):

Kino and Hilde spend a lot of time down at the front gate hoping to be dognapped.  Dogs pretty much like life predictable and routine, and that ain't happening around here lately. We've done lots of traveling, together and separately-dogs never included.  They let us know in their own special way, this is not a good thing. (poop, chew, dig, destroy-have I missed anything?)

Meanwhile, life in Mexico keeps on going at it's own pace.  Rainy season is almost over, so the pitahaya season is waning.  Tony planted some in my yard, he thinks they will be producing by next year.  They are such beautiful and delectable fruits.

The jasmine is still blooming it's little heart out:

Our bananas have come, been eaten or frozen, and sadly, gone.

Outside our gates, live is happening, too. This is one of our local tortilla stores.  They'd just gotten their load of corn delivered for the week. That's right.  The week.

Up the street, we stopped at a stoplight right next to this guy's truck loaded to the gills with raw something.  The people were swarming him.  My window was down so I tapped him on the shoulder. "What is it", I asked.  "Chicharron." Raw. Right there piled in the back of the truck.  Delectable.

Those of you in Albuquerque who fed my hummers, I thank you.  They are arriving back down here for the winter all fat and sassy.

Until next time, friends.

June, hot. July, deliciously cool.

July! What a great month to be down here.  The rainy season started and cooled things off tremendously. We're back to blankets at night and the dogs are back to looking for sunny napping patches.  Just about every night we have a big lightning show and rain-perfect for snuggling down and sleeping well.
JQ came in the heat for too short of a visit, we zipped back to Albuquerque for too short of a visit, and Robert and Joy stayed for too short of a visit after escorting mom down.
While the Semrads were here we ate a LOT of fried cheese in it's many delectable forms.
We sat on the patio and read, colored in coloring books and embroidered.  Everyone has a kimble, everyone was good moving from chair to chair in their own quiet reverie.

At Joy's request, we took a field trip to Guachimontones-a UNESCO World Heritage Site with a remarkable little museum attached.  It's a pre-hispanic archeological site with circular pyramids built around what is thought to be a central pole for Voladores.  More about that below.

Robert sharpened all the knives in my small community.  Some are wearing bandaids today, lol.

Somewhere along the way, I got stung by a scorpion.  My lips got tingly and after three hours of waiting it out I felt like I was going to forget to breathe so we ran to the doctor's office.  She whisked me on to a table, got me hooked up to an IV and O2, took my blood pressure and pulse all in the time it took her to say "don't worry, I will take care of you."  Exactly what you want your doc to say.  48 hours later I was back to normal.

Mom at the market with ever faithful Evdad guarding her 6.  The streets are uneven and her walker is cumbersome, but she made it.  Isn't the chile beautiful?

Tonight marks the beginning of a ten day festival honoring the patron saint of Ixtlahuacan de los Membrillos. The guys in town who own horses have been polishing them all week.  They're so pretty.

This is the patron saint, Saint Santiago.  Click to see him in all his glory.  He will be paraded through town every day during the festival with a M80's kabooming in his wake.  Good stuff.

When I was a kid, I saw the Voladores de Papantla and it made quite an impression on me.  Tonight when the celebratory fireworks started we went up on the mirador with our binoculars to see what we could see and lo! the men were on top of the pole.  We ran as fast as we could on cobbled streets down to the square in time to catch their flight.  Ten days of this-will take mom down tonight.

Some People Poke at it With a Spoon

It has been my lifelong dream to retire and learn how to make my own vinegar.  Just kidding, I never even heard of making vinegar until I moved down here and got told by a nutritionist to start drinking a weak vinegar solution every day with my main meal.  Of course, she wanted me to go with organic apple cider vinegar that includes the mother. "Braggs if you can get it"  "Really, I would prefer if you made your own."  OK, I'll take the challenge.

I brought two cookbooks down here with me with the idea I would cook my way through them in all that spare time one imagines retired people to have.  One is Elyse's favorite:

I visualized myself cooking saucy and sensational Indian food with the huge variety of cheap produce we have available to us.  Besides, seeing a book described as "the gateway" just cracks me up.
The other cookbook I brought is the iconic:

Diana Kennedy says that homemade pineapple vinegar is a staple in all Mexican kitchens.  Pineapple vinegar is very google-able.  At our house, we consume a pineapple at least twice a month.  Ev was willing to play. The challenge response is beginning to come together.  This is him on my birthday following my strict instructions with a good attitude.  We filled a jar with washed pineapple skin and core, added some honey water and a glug of Braggs apple cider vinegar.

I put the ring on the jar with a paper towel in the center rather than the lid.  Instructions vary: in the dark, in a sunny window, sealed, open to air, stir daily, shake weekly, don't touch for three weeks.  In the end, vinegar is going to do what vinegar does.  Four weeks later, voila!

You can see on the top that a thick, white rubbery substance has formed called the mother.  It's made of cellulose and acetic acid bacteria.  It's similar to Kombucha SCOBY.  Some people revere it: make jerky out of it, use it for face masks, put it in a smoothie, dry it for toy drum skins.  Some people, like me, poke at it with a spoon.  If you save a chunk of it and put it in your next batch of vinegar, the fermentation goes much quicker than 4 weeks.  I was surprised to find the pineapple chunks weren't slimy and gross when I pulled them out, instead they were rubbery.

I strained the liquid and then attempted to run it through a coffee filter.  That was a bust.  Ev grilled chicken I'd marinated in the new vinegar, olive oil, chipotle, honey and garlic.  It was tender and flavorful.  We had it with kale and lentils out of the Curry cookbook.  Might be one of the best meals in recent history at the hacienda.

Raw unfiltered vinegar is said to lower blood sugar and insulin, help with weight loss and acne, energize you and kill your cancer.  Some claims are actually supported by good research. My modest and poorly done research indicates there is no Mexican family on my block with homemade pineapple vinegar in their pantry.  I may have to start selling it in little jars on my front stoop.

We had some uninvited "guests".

A couple of weekends ago, we woke up to discover someone came on to our property in the night and stole some tools out of our bodega.  Our four prong response plan was to 1) start locking the dang oubuilding doors 2) get motion detector lights 3)get a guard dog 4) pour concrete aprons under the gates

In addition, there have been many minor changes:  I am no longer allowed to do the queen wave as we go through town as it interferes with Evdad's glower.  We don't leave the house, even to scurry down for a fish taco on the plaza, without locking it all down.  We no longer can let the neighborhood boys in to find their own soccer balls and marbles.  We padlock the front gate.  We each have a heavy wad of keys in our pockets at all times.  I have to pay attention to where my purse is in the house and whether or not I've locked the car.  It all amounts to a big PITA.

The police response was underwhelming.  They sent a couple of twelve year olds dressed in black body armor.  I caught them whacking each other in the stomach with their assault rifles as they walked up the driveway.  I asked them if they weren't going to take a report.  One jogged down to the truck and got a spiral notebook left over from the third grade and took copious notes: my name and age.

We went to town and filed a formal "denuncia" with the state but nothing has happened. I had full blown crying break down in the office of the President of Ixtlahuacan's  but nothing has happened. So from this, I think we can conclude, nothing is going to happen.

I feel bad for Evdad, it was mostly his motorcycle tools that were stolen.  He has had some of those tools for 40 years or longer.  Every time he goes to get a socket or tire pressure gage and can't find it, we get re-traumatized all over again.

We got gutters made for the house and the boys are taking up the interior patio to get it repaired before the rainy season starts.

Life goes on.  I'm married to a hoss.