Tlacolula. Musical name. We stopped there for gas on our way to the “frozen waterfalls” of Hierve Del Agua. This busy little village was bustling with traffic, my favorite being the “mototaxis”. Like colorful toys whizzing around the streets, pick up, drop off. 3 wheels. So practical. When can I ride in one??? But first…
Hierve el Agua is an amazing rock formation that creates the illusion of a waterfall, when in fact it is a process of spring water trickling through fissures in the cliffs, leaving behind its over saturation of calcium and other minerals. Two artificial pools have been created to corral the water close to the smaller of the two waterfalls, making it a delightful, and some say, healing, swimming experience. The turquoise/green water is quite cool and the bottom not visible, though not very deep. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hierve_el_Agua
Delightful! And spectacular. Never mind that we drove miles into the mountains on good highways then onto a narrow, bumpy dirt road past two small villages to get there. It was all fascinating to me. After a brief swim and photo ops, crowds filed in as we left to order up some mango and coconut water at one of the many vendor stalls. Smart entrepreneurs – they know how thirsty you’ll be after your swim in the bright sun. Off we went to the next stop on this journey…mezcal!
The dirt road through two small villages eventually came to a couple of basket sellers and mezcal distilleries. No holding us back. Norma pulled off to the right toward a primitive shed with big oak barrels and a horse tied to a grinding mill for crushing the “piñas”, or hearts, of the particular agave plant. Beside the shed was a stone-lined pit for roasting the piñas and a stack of charred wood. A sample of the roasted piñas rendered a taste not unlike your grandmother’s Thanksgiving sweet potato casserole, though the fibrous treat must be discarded after chewing. A copper “still” is heated by a fire to distill the fermented liquid. Oh, it’s much more involved than that, but you get the picture. https://www.tripsavvy.com/how-mezcal-is-made-1588808. This is not your average distillery. No rules and regs here. You take your chances. These guys were great fun and we laughed our way through the process. Three or four shots later Ben learned how to say “thank you” with Mexican hand signals and we walked away with two bottles of pretty darn good mezcal and a story to tell!
Baskets first
And we’re off to Mitla, former religious capital of the Zapotec civilization. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitla Though the first picture below may not make much sense, I include it because as the marching band moved past our car (while we waited to pull out), we realized it was a funeral procession. People carrying flowers and candles – and the coffin – suddenly flooded the streets and surrounded our car. For a few moments we couldn’t move. It seemed disrespectful to me to take any more pictures, so we watched as the solemn crowd passed by, probably headed to the church.
Santa María del Tule. The “stoutest” tree trunk in the world resides in the church gardens of this little town. Arbol del Tule. The Montezuma cypress is reportedly more than 2000 years old and has a girth of nearly 138′. The “baby” tree nearby is probably 1000 years old. The little town thrives from tourism centered around the amazing trees, though the now heavily trafficked streets are proving somewhat detrimental. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C3%81rbol_del_Tule
Tlacolula. Sunday market extraordinaire. The streets are closed off to traffic and hoards of pedestrians file in. Tourists and locals from surrounding villages crowd in to visit with friends and to experience the food, colors, and crafts of the area. This is the first market where I’ve seen live turkeys and chickens for sale. At one point I saw a woman holding a baby on her hip with one hand and carrying an inverted (live) turkey in the other. There were tables bearing nothing but mole ingredients. Tables of household goods. Tortillas. Food para llever – food to go. And drinks like the pre-Hispanic tejate, the frothy liquid in the bowl below. You’ll learn more about this in my next episode where I talk about watching the dough, yes, dough, being made. https://www.entornoturistico.com/tejate-la-bebida-mas-popular-de-oaxaca/ Aprons (mandiles) are standard fair in the villages of Oaxaca. During the Spanish Conquest each village was assigned a particular “costume” and a particular craft or household item to produce. The idea behind the “costume” was to make each population more identifiable. This is how the beautiful weaving and embroidery that we associate with Mexico today came into being. Fewer and fewer villagers wear their assigned garb now on a daily basis, saving them instead for celebrations and festivities. On this day aprons and beribboned hair abounded.
Seven months ago back in NC we let go of objects with a vengeance and purpose. But we also knew we were entering a world of indigenous crafts like no other. Rugs, baskets, embroidery, fabrics, pottery, candles, alebrijes, carvings, and on and on. Mecca. We kept it small on this trip, trying not to overdo, but I can tell you that every time you buy directly from an artisan in Mexico you are giving them, in trade, a better life. This was not our last trip to the fascinating Oaxaca Valley. Hasta luego!
Thanks again to Norma Schafer for the marvelous tour of these villages. And thanks to her and Ben Dyer for some of the above photos.
I have wanted to go to Oaxaca for over a year now. The very name invites. Wikipedia says that Oaxaca is the Nahuatl word “Huaxyacac”, referring to the”gauje” tree (Leucaena leucocephala) found around the capital city. After a two hour flight from Guadalajara we sped away in the car with our hostess and friend, Norma Schafer, tour guide extraordinaire. A city of 300,000 people serviced by a myriad of cars, businesses, and restaurants, Oaxaca was more fast paced than I’d expected. Traffic was crazy, loud, chaotic. But we made our way and saw a world of wonders.
Color in the streets
The state of Oaxaca is known for its crafts, especially textiles. A private historical collection of jewelry and other items also included a marvelous display of HUIPILS (wipils), an indigenous garment created from strips of handwoven fabric sewn together with decorative seams. Nearby stores tempt. Do we all want to look like the iconic Frida Kahlo? Who hid her disabilities with indigenous clothing and jewelry, bringing them into the lime light.
After breakfast AND lunch in wonderful Oaxacan restaurants, Norma guided us down a back alley on a side street. Entering the dark, simple dirt floor room we are introduced to J. Manual Garcia Esperanza, Grand Master Filigree Jeweler, and his son, José Jorge García García. A private showing of their award-winning work was laid out before us, accompanied by streams of oh’s and ah’s. And pursuant purchases. We were then led to the son’s small, crowded studio where the current selection of masterpieces is produced. Ben, jeweler that he was, was duly impressed.
Grand MasterAnd sonNew design in processCompleted!Birthday gift-thanks Ben!
It was an amazing experience to stand in the presence of these humble men who so readily shared their time and space with us. Afterwards we took off for Norma’s casita in Teotitlan Del Valle. But that is a very long story, to be saved for another post. There was more to be experienced in the city proper.
On our 2nd day Norma took us to a funky alternative gallery where her neighbor’s daughter, 34 year old Janet, was part of a panel discussion and preview of a documentary about reviving the Zapotec language. https://www.youtube.com/c/DizhsaNabani Followed by an amazing lunch. Janet is one of the Zapotec young people who has chosen life in the city, away from the more traditional village of her birth. Janet and her older brother operate a small artisanal boutique in Oaxaca. Her parents and younger brother have become quite famous for their rugs created with wool hand-dyed with natural materials. (Norma’s casita is behind their house, on their land, and will revert back to them when she no longer lives there. As she says, “It is an investment in our friendship and relationship.”)
Monte Albán was our next tour, an easy taxi ride from the city, and a significant Zapotec archeological site. This was the capital for the Zapotec civilization beginning around 400BC and the place where their language and creativity began to shine. Amazing to see and to know that theoretically only a third of the city has been uncovered! (“ZAPOTEC CIVILIZATION: A CAPTIVATING GUIDE TO THE PRE-COLUMBIAN CLOUD PEOPLE…” is an easy and fascinating read about this culture.)
We met Norma and her friend Jackie, who lives in the city, for a late lunch after our adventure. Sweet…we shared a taxi from Monte Albán to the city with a Mexican couple who live and work in LA. They had called for the taxi but happily shared with us. They refused to let us pay our half of the bill. Tip only. Another example of Mexican generosity. After lunch we wandered through the streets on our way back to the car, running into many festivities, including a parade celebrating new graduates.
We spent parts of 3 days in this gorgeous city. But there was so much more to our trip. Below I’ve included a brief slideshow for more of a view of the Oaxaca City, but I’ll stop here and save Mitla (second capital of the Zapotecs), Hierve Del Agua, Santa María del Tule, and Tlacolula for the next post. Teotitlan will come later as it rocked my soul and deserves a post of its own. Enjoy & stay tuned!
Mexico is known for its colorful, intriguing doors. It’s hard to walk by without wondering what’s going on behind them. But not all doors are closed. Sometimes they’re open for business. Sometimes they’re open for air. Sometimes for watching the world go by and staying connected. Thing is, a door is not just a door in Mexico. A door is often a statement, a work of art, an entry way to another world.
Sometimes you’re peeking through a gate or a split in the plastic hung while construction is going on.
Sometimes you’re looking into a business. Or a vacant lot.
There are openings that draw you in just so far, keeping privacy in mind.
There are gates into a different world. Gates that start your imagination rolling, making you wonder what the folks inside are up to. Protection from the outside is obvious. Secluded, cool, quiet, often with gardens, courtyards, patios, and terraces.
Doors that are stone, brick or metal. Subdued colors or bright. There is no “one way” and no requirement for approval (for the most part).
Wooden doors, hand-hewn – massive or small, simple or carved. Iron work forged into handles, door knockers and decorative tacks.
Abandoned doors…who walked away and left their lives behind these walls? And why?
Reflecting doors…reflections of old and new, handcrafted, hand painted.
And windows to the world…rarely ordinary. Even the electric meter deserves decoration.
On May 2nd I posted a page titled FINDING MY WAY. This is part of what I wrote: “My confidence grows with each door that opens on this threaded journey I am on. Spreading my wings. Finding my place, my Light, in this new country. Growing in unexpected ways. I had no idea I would become this person I am today.” The journey continues. But with a new focus. This post is not really about me. Or Mexico.
Part of the reason we moved, as some of you may remember, was to step away from consumerism, comfort, security and convenience, to see if we could let go of our patterns in order to live a simpler life. Here we are. Now, how do I connect the dots between moving to Mexico, diving into a more spiritual life, my love for the elderly, my age, and the current state of the world?
Stepping out. I led a meeting of my “tribal” group, Spiritual Friends Lakeside, last week. We met at a beautiful retreat center/B & B (Villa Del Ángel), enjoyed a healthy breakfast, participated in a Summer Solstice meditation, and spoke of who we are and what we wish for. There are many spiritual groups here. James Twyman’s (MOSES CODE) NAMASTE community, a Buddhist Center, a center for discussion of A COURSE IN MIRACLES, a metaphysical discussion group, numerous yoga classes, etc. And I need that. Diving in. But with what goal, what purpose, outside myself. As I said above, how do I connect the dots?
This article changed my direction, gave me hope, led me to other links that opened my eyes to the true meaning of being an ELDER, whether in Mexico or the United States. It made my intentions of healing work using sacred objects a gift of hope, an avenue of being present with intention and looking at the anger, grief, and despair many of us are feeling right now as a gift of the uncertainty and massive transition that we are in the midst of. It is no longer “business as usual”. We can no longer stay silent and remain in the current state of things. Joanna Macy, systems specialist, scholar, Buddhist teacher, and elder, says we must accept the gifts of strength and alertness of the present moment and use our power of intention to motivate us for the welfare of all. She says it is time to befriend our grief, fear, and outrage, instead of explaining it away. I hope you will watch this powerful 30 minute YouTube video. It is so very inspiring. Joanna Macy-The Hidden Promise of Our Dark Age/Bioneers @ https://youtu.be/vzmjF1jE2K0
I avoid the news. Ben fills me in once a day. It’s all I’ll allow. But what to do. My work with Healing Touch seems even more important now. It is one way for me to contribute as an elder to the possibility of change in a world in rapid transition. As I follow the thread I’ve discovered since reading the above cited article, I believe I will find other ways as well. I am planted in a country that respects their elders and listens to the spirit of their land. A people who appreciate the present moment. Remember JFK’s famous speech? “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.” I would expand that now to say “What can you do for the WORLD?”. We are global. We are all in this together.
(I hope that you who read this will not find yourselves saying – “Oh, boy. Doom & gloom. I’m checking out on this blog.” This is real. This is personal. This is important. This had to be said. But I am still in Mexico, living and learning, traveling and exploring. Check in next time. Oh, and let me know your reactions to the article &/or video. I hope you will find them as inspiring as I did. Hasta luego!)
What fun we had on our one day tour of LosTres Toñas tequila distillery, a small family owned production on the outskirts of the town of Tequila, 90 minutes from Ajijic. Though I’m not accustomed to drinking tequila by the shot, I am a lover of margaritas. When some of my classmates from Spanish class invited us to tour with them, we did not hesitate.
What does the word “tequila” mean? According to our guide Marcos it means “you’re working on your drink”. Funny guy. To us it meant a delightful circuit of visiting the field of blue agave/agave azul (grown only in 5 states in Mexico), learning about the family, touring the production facility &, of course, doing the obligatory taste testing which in this case included about 12 different flavors.
Turns out that the mother plants have to be in the rich, volcanic dirt for 7-12 years to make it all work. Baby “sprouts” are dug up so they won’t “eat the mother” and put in pots for a year before they’re taken back to the field for planting. The hardest part to hear about was the jimadores, the men who do the back breaking work of cutting off the leaves, creating a “piña” that looks somewhat like a pineapple, then chopping away at the stalk with a sharp rounded blade (coa) to harvest the heart of the plant. Some piñas weigh over 200#. 100-300 piñas per man are expected per 7 hour morning shift. For 100 pesos a day. 5 dollars a day. 5 dollars. Unbelievable. For highly skilled, dangerous work (the sharp coa blade, rattlesnakes and tarantulas) that is passed down to generation to generation. A very different work ethic.
It was fascinating to see the equipment that is used to squeeze every possible drop of liquid out of the agave hearts, the stainless steel containers they are distilled in, the oak barrels they are aged in, the quality checks and labeling/packing of the bottles by individuals (in this small distillery about 1000-2000 bottles per day).
The tasting was entertaining and educational. Really. Who knew there are so many tastes to one “spirit”. Blanco, reposado, añejo, extra añejo, fruit flavors, chocolate, tamarind and chili. Aged a few months to 5 years or more before most, of course, is exported. Our guide complained that “they no longer use the old ways”. Technology is king, streamlining and speeding the process to increase profits. The ultimate goal of sharing of multiple bottles to multiple people, of course, is to sell, sell, sell. And that they did. We all left with 1-2 bottles. Hope they taste as good back home! Learn more about tequila from the following website: https://www.decanter.com/spirits/learn-about-tequila-403851/
Afterwards, our guides took us to a restaurant (complete with playground) propped on the side of an arroyo for a delicious all-you-can-eat buffet of Mexican specialties where we soaked up some of the alcohol we’d just sampled before heading off to town.
OK, off to town we go. At this point we were all pretty exhausted but wouldn’t admit it so we were dropped off by the Tequila plaza for an hour of exploring. Mostly it centered around, what else, the history and sales of tequila. But the church on the plaza was built in the 1600’s and, to me, gorgeous in its primitive simplicity. We enjoyed a cool drink inside a lovely hotel restaurant, escaping the 91 degree heat. Classmate Claire ordered a “smoky margarita” and we were all instantly jealous as the waiter explained the use of smoked black salt on the rim of the glass, lighting the sprig of fresh rosemary and dropping the smoky twig into the glass at the last minute. No idea what tequila they used, but boy was it good! Thanks for sharing, Claire.
The town museum was quite interesting, even in the heat. We wandered for awhile, soaking up the history, amazed at the amount of work and creative marketing involved.
Original crushing tool
Notice the cutting tool
Grandparents tequila!
Me with dark hair, right?
The ride back to Ajijic was the quietest part of the day as we all crashed from the day’s activities. I was captivated by the similarity of the toll road to US highways, the fertile valleys in the midst of a dry season, the sight of the volcanic (inactive) mountain Tequila and miles of railroads used only for transportation of goods.
It was a long day, but a good one. Lots of laughter, learning and enjoying life! Thank you Claire, Jeanne, Brad and Debra for asking us to come along!
It’s hard to imagine that there will ever be rain again. I’ve never lived in such a dry climate, in fact I’ve only lived in North Carolina, so it’s a revelation to see how dry, brown, dusty, a place can actually be. I prefer green. That being said, the humidity has been higher than usual here lately – the 13% has risen to 44%! You can feel it and see it, for sure. Hopefully it is a precursor to rain.
There is an insect here, a cicada, that gringos call “rain birds”. Their mating call sounds like a buzz saw as they start up and over weeks they become louder and louder. Legend has it that once you hear them you are six weeks away from rain. It’s been a month now. I hope they’re right.
The air is heavy with heat exacerbated by smoke from recent forest (“scrub”) fires, from burning of fields to be plowed for planting, from dust, and from pollen produced by the gorgeous flowers that manage to bloom in the midst of it all. Ben finds it harder to do his mountain hikes now and the heat dictates more time in the house with doors and windows closed. We sneak out in the mornings and quickly run errands after my Spanish classes end at 12:30. By 2:30 or 3 we’re home, under the fans, moving slowly. Next year we will probably go away for the month of May. Like so many do. Now we know why. I leave you with photos from our morning walk. Even in the dryness there is so much beauty and delight to be found.
Trees preserved!
Pop-up restaurant!
Panteon?
For sale….for?
Back of town cemetery
Ticked off turkey
Ironworks-herraria
A local gringo house
As I prepare to post this the skies over Chapala and Guadalajara to our east have darkened, the wind has kicked up, and the temperature has dropped. In the local news they say there is rain in the big city. I’m doing a rain dance. Come join me!
Soon after we arrived in Ajijic, a new neighbor asked if I’d been to Foco Tonal. I’m sorry? Oh, it’s this energy vortex and it’s pretty amazing. The name came up again when I joined a Facebook group – Spiritual Friends Lakeside – and connected with like-minded people, reminiscent of my Healing Touch days. Recently we went as a group to see this place. For the most part, Foco Tonal was not what I expected. But, then, this IS Mexico. It is rarely what you expect.
Foco Tonal, outside the small town of Cuitzeo, is known for its vortex that causes your voice to echo as if you were in a chamber, rather than standing outside within a low tile wall, on a pentagram. Is it cosmic energy or simply acoustic reverberation? Who knows, but in 1998 a “miraculous” healing took place and the owner of the castle agreed to the evolution of Foco Tonal as a public place of healing and wonderment. It is now widely known as a place people visit out of curiosity or the need to be healed or “recharged”. http://www.cronicajalisco.com/notas/2017/77535.html
Three men responsible
When we arrived some of us asked “Is this Disneyland?” I’d expected a serene, simple setting but what I found was a colorful castle that fronts the property, a playful “yard” splashed with rainbow colors and dotted with three tiled areas of concentrated energy. Skirted by a tumble of boulders scattered underneath a grove of plum trees, it is complete with little villages and toys left by ? for gnomes who are sometimes “caught” on camera. Who knows? Who am I to say? Many people visit and many experience something unusual. We spent 2 or 3 hours there, as a group of “spiritual friends”, searching for – common ground? Answers? Lessons?
Looking at the 3 centers
The central vortex area
The experience was different for each of us, before, during and after. You can indeed hear your voice echo and for many there was a strong sense of being pulled to earth or feeling heavy or tingly. The following day we dialogued about our experience on Facebook and found our experiences varied widely but left most of us initially tired, then energized. For me there were lessons about playfulness and letting go of being so serious.
Energy in Nature
Power tree
After our experience at Foco Tonal we were all ravenous so we headed to the nearest big town, Ocotlán for lunch and a brief tour. It is an interesting place that I hope to explore again. We only had a short time to visit the cathedral and wander around the plaza. This is the second oldest cathedral in the state of Jalisco. Nearby is a statue of Christ that has history with a past earthquake. For me the fascination was the oversized chair. As an 8 year old girl I lived in Thomasville, North Carolina, one of the furniture capitals of the US. There was a huge chair in town right by the railroad station. Lyndon Johnson stood on and spoke from that chair on his campaign trail. I was there. Ocotlán is the furniture capital of Jalisco.
Dome of the Municipal building
Perhaps, in reality, the highlight of the day was this. While waiting for my friend at the bus stop, a Mexican man reminded me that I knew him as the security guard at a nearby gated community. Ah, yes! How could I forget this kind man who is always so helpful with my Spanish. The 3 of us got on the back of this heavily crowded, early morning bus together with barely standing room. Hand me your money, he said. No way he could make it up to the bus driver. We watched as he passed our money to the man in front of him telling him to pass it forward. Lo and behold, in seconds our change made its way back to Manuel’s hand, then ours. Amazing grace. THIS is Mexico.
Special thanks to Fabiola Rivera, the lovely Mexican leader of our group, who taught me so much about the landscape and history of the area and the Mexican attitude of joy and playfulness as we traveled from Ajijic to Cuitzeo. And for returning me safely home! Muchismo gracias, Fabiola!
TAPALPA. Pueblo Magico. Climbing the mountain road in our car we finally rose above the smoky clouds left by fields burned in preparation for planting soon, to find the “land of colors.” White washed adobe buildings with wooden doors and beams, sun bleached terra cotta rooftops and deep red (burgundy) trim. Blue sky and emerald forests – oh, I do miss my evergreens back in NC! Two hours from Ajijic…if you don’t lose your way on your first Mexican road trip. Our GPS barely spoke to us. But in the end she took us right to the door of our Airbnb. (ALERT: This is a long post!)
The town is lazy, friendly and calm. Quaint. There are cars and motorcycles and lots of 4-wheelers, practical for the hilly, slow-going cobblestone streets. So much to explore. People to see. Photos to be taken. The evening light hits the door frames and the people inside them and I capture them for future reference.
We head for Paulino’s Restaurante, well known and familiar to us from our first trip here a year ago. Chard tamales, thick handmade corn tortillas, nopal (cactus) salad and white beans. Our waiter Gerardo speaks perfect English though he’s happy to speak Spanish with me if I like. We’ll mix it up. He is from Tapalpa but worked for many years in the US driving trucks for Mayflower. He knows his way around and is so happy to hear we’re from North Carolina. Tar Heels? he says with a big smile. I am a Tar Heel fan! Connected.
2nd floor-Paulino’s
We wander off finding side streets to explore – Rick Steves would be so proud! Encounters with locals always thrill me. The lady with the carefully packaged, freshly made cake passes by twice then on the third time she has no cake. “Donde esta el pastel?” I ask. She smiles mischieviously and shrugs her shoulders. Her reply is beyond my current Spanish. Returning to our temporary home we pass by an open gate to the old town chapel. Three generations of Mexican women exit as we pass. I smile at the elder of the three and say Buenos tardes. She returns the greeting with her own shy smile. We follow them inadvertently and watch as they stop to greet an amigo standing in his doorway marked “F. Studio”. The greetings exchanged are sweet and kind. It is obvious they know each other. He is tall and handsome and neatly dressed. Photo op.
In the early morning trucks rumble up the streets while dogs bark and roosters crow. Familiar Mexican sounds. The sun rises somewhere and lights up the day, the horizon edged with pine covered mountains and the distinctive cone of the Colima volcano, one of two active volcanoes in Mexico. Someone has taken a brush and splashed the pale blue morning sky with white clouds. From the terrace I see a neighbor’s laundry hanging under the outline of the volcanic cone. A motorcycle putts by, its driver in full yawn. A sheep bleats somewhere in the maze of humble homes on this hill. Horses clip along. There is contradiction and irony everywhere you turn in Mexico. Our place is ultra modern, created from shipping containers encased in horizontal wooden slats parted by numerous windows and sliding glass doors. The interior is gray and sleek. The music blasting from the passing trucks shakes the very glass of this place. The room darkening shades keep the light out but nothing can harness the noise of Mexico.
The “corn lady” acts like we are old amigas. Elote mirador con chili? Purple corned grilled and served with mild chili powder, salt and lime juice. Yum! The little girl in the window helps her Abuela (grandmother). She smiles shyly and holds a pose as I click my phone camera. Days later, on the street, Abuela will throw me a big smile and ask if I am well. The man across the street stokes the fire for roasting meat for the restaurant he fronts and takes my meager Spanish with a huge grin. He responds in perfect English. Above the plaza in a corner wedge sits a freshly painted restaurante – La Cuachala/Gastronomia Regional. I’m drawn to it immediately and for good reason. Past the juice stand and the clean wooden tables with red plastic chairs are three women behind a counter jammed with Mexican terra cotta pots. Two of them are creating handmade tortillas while the third organizes the counter. A customer who is surely a friend to them waves me in and begins lifting lids, naming each taco-filling mixture as she does. The jugo de naranja (freshly squeezed orange juice) I take away is perhaps the best ever. My quick encounter reveals a sparkling clean, organized enterprise with much to offer. I will return.
Meandering along known and unknown streets, poking my head into doorways, peaking through holes, snapping pictures, people grin and reply earnestly when I speak to them. We find the artisan shop with pine needle baskets, rompope, preserved fruits, simple clay dishes, embroidery, caps and scarves knitted from local wool, but the booth we came for, paper mache decorations made by children with special needs, is not open. We wander by a row of simple tourist driven shops and take a side street. More discoveries! The Mercado Municipal, a Oaxacan restaurant, a European style cheese shop. There, propped up against a wall is a poor, dirty man perhaps sleeping it off. Beyond him a Mexican gentleman begs pardon as he steps by us into the shop, but his wife turns toward us. She speaks in Spanish and is obviously delighted with the quaint little town. She understands un poco English, having traveled from Los Angeles. I wish for better Spanish skills as we part. She would be an interesting conversationalist I believe. Un otra tiempo.
Tired of eating so much meat we go in search of vegetables. Funny that they are so hard to find in restaurants when they are so plentiful in the markets. YELP leads us across the plaza to La Villa. We have seen it packed before but at the moment we are the only customers. Alfredo, our waiter, speaks perfect English, having worked in the US for many years. He understands our dilemma and promises to influence the chef! Stir fry with chicken, broccoli and zucchini. Brocheta with beef, apple, plantains, peppers and onions. Oh my. His cafe Americano is delicious, the mugs beautiful. He would sell me one, he says, if only they would arrive from Tonala.
Alfredo
Around the corner of the plaza we find vendors with pitayas. We’d seen them being sold by the roadside in the valley but had no idea what they were. Fruit from the pipe organ cactus, which explains why there were so many cacti growing by the highway. Fields of them. Some 30′ high. Turns out families come from far away to work the farms and sell the produce. The fruits are stunning colors of tomato red, raspberry, and pale lime green, each with its own flavor. The texture is somewhat like a kiwi, complete with small black seeds, and they are reportedly full of anti-oxidants and vitamins. The tough part is getting the spines off before splitting them open.
Organ pipe cactiSpiny needlesPitayas!
Friday – another day in the village. We are both smitten. This time we walk past the center of town, finding quiet streets and few people. An old cocker spaniel makes its way to the door of an alteration shop and plops down on the sidewalk while keeping an eye on me. It is the elderly shop owners I want to photograph, but, embarrassed as they step out, I ask to photograph the dog. One lady steps quickly in front of him with firm “instruction” that I interpret as “leave him alone, he’s old” so I click a shot of the two ladies instead and offer my thanks.
So many fascinating, lovely entryways behind slightly open gates. Lovely gardens, tranquil visions of what may lay inside. Contradictions in wood and plaster. Dilapidated tile roofs with solar panels or TV discs on top. Old buildings mixed with new. On a back street of dirt and cobblestone I feel I am home and tears well up. Have I been here before? In some other life?
We stop by La Villa again for coffee. Ben steps away for an important call. I feel something drop onto my leg but see nothing at first. Looking down I see a baby wren, fallen from the nest. One leg obviously broken. The waiter steps over to speak to me and understands the problem. He gently lifts the tiny bird and carries it across the street, placing it the crook of a tree. Perhaps its mother will find it. But I doubt it will live. So sad.
Lunch today is at La Cuachola, the small women’s restaurant in the corner. The language barrier is tough and the young cook is reluctant to use Google Translate. We end up with six tacos and the end of the morning pitcher of OJ. These tacos are the best we’ve ever eaten! Attempting to pay ruffles the language feathers again and Ben calls me in to help. The young woman smiles when I say “Delicioso!” and points to a poster behind her. She is proud that an international hang gliding competition has just taken place here and they too said her tacos were “Delicioso!” She beams as Ben snaps a shot of the two of us.
We continue to wander the streets of the central village, me looking for photo ops, Ben working to get in his daily walk. I step into a brick shop where handmade pavers are displayed with simple outline drawings inscribed in the centers. I ask the shop clerk for a photo and she responds in English! I tell her we’ve come from Ajijic to escape the heat. “But here,” she says with a solemn face, “it is hotter than we are used to. We don’t know if it’s the fires or…but we are very concerned.” It is true that the horizon has been hazy, leaving the volcanic cone of Colima somewhat obscured most days. Is this also a result of global warming?
“Color in the streets” does not come from brightly colored paint and bougainvilleas in this village. It comes from the smiles on the people’s faces, the evening dresses on some women out for special occasions, the “paper malhecho” crafts of the special needs children of the Centro de Integracion School, the open store fronts filled with perfectly arranged jars of fruit; from toys, household goods, costumes and confirmation dresses. Shop doors aren’t rolled up corrogated metal like in Ajijic, but old, highly patinaed wood. Sidewalks are high, walkable, and in good repair. The shiny cobbles of the streets are filled in with concrete and squeaky tires remind you they have been traveled for many years.
Cobbled streetsConfirmation wearCostume shop
We stop at one of the highly organized shops to buy preserves and canned fruit, finding a surprise of homemade arnica liniment in a corner. Ben wanders back to our place with our goodies and I head out to find some gifts. This is Saturday and traffic of people and vehicles has picked up significantly. It’s about two hours to Guadalajara so it’s a popular getaway. The booth of items in the Mercado made at the special school is finally open. The children are taught the craft similar to paper mache to build their confidence and support the school financially. It’s a small booth packed with colorful boxes, stars, butterflies, flowers and silly animals. My eye lights on the largest item on the top shelf – a Balinese style mask adorned with horses and birds. I love it! $22 for 3 items and I’ve helped support the school. And maybe brought a smile to a face or two.
Chayito’sLunch on the terraceMy prizes!
On our last day we decide to find the El Salto del Nogal – Walnut Falls – a 344′ waterfall at the end of a 45 minute, intense hike. BRING WATER! We are lost for a few minutes but eventually find it and start down. About a third of the way we realize it is just too much for us for this time of day. Reluctantly we both give up and head back to Tapalpa. It’s tough to give it up but the 2000′ of extra altitude has taken its toll. My legs feel cramped and heavy. Ben complains of ongoing fatigue. Maybe next time.
I leave Tapalpa knowing I will return. To the slow pace and the gentle people. The evergreens and the deep blue sky. I am a mountain girl in a faraway land, delighting in interacting with this amazing culture. I am a romantic perhaps. Or perhaps I am just in love with those who call this place home.
Sometimes I think that any post I do has to be philosophical or simply about where we live and how we’re doing. We’re doing fine, by the way. Happiness has set in! But today I just want to acknowledge Mother’s Day. I am, after all, a mother. And proud of it. This is my first time so far away from my son on this special day, which makes it even more important to acknowledge how much I love him.
In Mexico Mother’s Day always comes on May 10th, no matter what day of the week it is. So this past Friday we noticed that some shops were closed and that lots of vendors were selling flowers on the street corners or by the careterra. Yesterday afternoon, strolling back to a friend’s house, we noticed many folks, especially women and children, dressed up and heading to the plaza. I’m not sure what was going on there – frankly, it’s too hot for me to be out much – but you could tell they were on a mission. I’ve said it before, Mother’s are revered here. They deserve a 3 day holiday for sure!
In the plaza there are photographic portraits of some of Ajijic’s elder women – Donas (sorry I don’t know how to do the Spanish spelling on this computer, just know that the “n” is pronounced as a “y”) – posted to remind us of the special mothers, grandmothers, and great-grandmothers in our lives. It is a lovely tribute. Two of those women I have photographed and talked to myself in the past year. Delighted by each other, we ignored the language barrier and kept on talking. They touched my heart and I am always honored to see them in the village.
Photo by Xill Fessenden
Photo by Xill Fessenden
On a walk-doctor’s orders!
Sweet Dona Maria
Three years ago on Mother’s Day my son introduced me to his new girlfriend Toni. This is it, Mom, he said. We’re going to get married. And you know that grand baby box? Well, you can check it, ’cause we’re gonna have grandchildren for you! Oh, it’s not for me! I exclaimed, with tears of delight. Toni and Japhy have been married for two and a half years now. And my first grand baby, as you know, arrived in January. I don’t know if either of them will ever read this but I want to tell them how happy I am to be his mom and to have her in the family, as daughter in law and mother of my granddaughter Hazie.
Japhy & Toni 2016
Daddy’s girl!
Sweet momma & baby
And there was, of course, my own mother, Dorothy Louise Jesson Clark, who died at the age of 86 after years of coping with Alzheimers. In the nursing home where I had been director, she was well loved and well cared for. It was there that my partner Ben asked her to play the piano for him. She had not played in 3 years and neither of us were sure she could do it after so much time and decline. But she did it! And it changed the course of her illness. Within a month she was no longer wheelchair bound but walking freely about in the halls of the nursing home. She spent her last days, months, filled with peace and joy and passing it on to others. I think of her so often. She was strong, loving and talented. Thank you for being such a good Mother to me and grandmother to my son. Bless you!
Years ago I trained in Healing Touch. A nursing modality. I studied like crazy; books, articles, websites. I took courses online and in person and practiced my new found craft in homes, massage treatment rooms, hospitals, clinics and retirement communities. I loved my sessions, my clients. But I often felt that something was missing. Maybe I was just too distracted by work and chores and all the things I felt obligated to tackle, complete and obtain, maintain. Along the way a healer I met told me all my work would be easier if I would meditate regularly. Meditation competed with exercise time, or time with my partner, or that nap I needed. The guilt I learned so well as a child kicked in each time I let meditation slip by. But nothing changed.
About a year ago a friend loaned me a book: WOMAN WHO GLOWS IN THE DARK. It was just a few months before our move to Mexico. I was immediately taken by it. Curanderas. Latin American healers. Healing touch. Fascinating.
Then in looking for books about Mexico I stumbled across THE HUMMINGBIRD’S DAUGHTER by Luis Alberto Urrea. Amazing historical novel about his aunt Teresita in old Mexico. A curandera. Something was leading me. A thread. A journey. Spirit. Spiritual. Awakening?
Somewhere along the way the subject of shamanism entered into my explorations. Eventually I stumbled (really?) on Sandra Ingerman and her book SOUL RETRIEVAL. Connected. Felt right, reading her, listening to her. Her words resonate with me. Diseases lost souls parts and pieces to be found. The Earth lost. Parts and pieces to be healed. Before it is too late. How can I help? Her website intrigues me, draws me in. Web of light. So similar to Healing Touch teachings.
In a secondhand store in Ajijic I found TRAVELING WITH POMEGRANATES by Sue Kidd Monk and her daughter Ann Kidd Taylor, soulful descriptions of a mother and daughter unraveling their own spiritual journeys. Nearly every night as I read myself to sleep some passage in that book rankles my nerves and brings me to tears; processing, clearing, allowing the light in.
The thread continues. Lunch at DHARMA Restaurant reveals a weekend of healing for the Lake. Lake Chapala. I long for it to speak to me. But it feels flat. Lifeless. Inaccessible. Distant. It saddens me. It negates some of the beauty of this place we live in. Shaman from New Zealand and Jalisco will meet on Scorpion Island (recently named a sacred place for the Huichols) soon. The Huichol indigenous people have lived in the mountains of central Mexico for 15,000 years, according to the Wikipedia description. The ceremony they will hold for healing of the Lake will be steeped in tradition. All are invited but the way has not been clear for me. I will be there in spirit.
The drum shows up on Facebook. Then the massage table. The pieces of my new life falling into place in their own time. I am driven to holy meditation on the sheepskin my mother held dear from her long ago visit to Scotland. I nearly left it for sale back in NC but something called me to keep it. It could be useful. (It reminded me of a stack of them I’d seen in a market in Guadalajara. Is this just about decor?)
Then I find Spiritual Friends Lakeside on Facebook. I attend their luncheon and find my “tribe”. Mixed. Gringos and locals. All searching, seeking, finding. Confused, joyful, quiet, lively. I am home. At the end of this month we will visit FOCO TONAL. www.focotonal.com Wearing white on a sacred spiritual pilgrimage.
A local B & B-Villa del Angel-holds open house and I go with Ben and friends to reconnect with the owners we met last year. I felt a kinship there and kept in touch a bit. Facebook has its uses. (She & I will now be Spanish study partners. Turns out we are neighbors.) The place and the people there resonate. Finding peace. Finding place.
Moments of joy and pure delight come frequently, often bringing me to tears. A new experience, a new book, a new friend. There is time now. I am not blinded or overwhelmed by the list of Have-to’s, Should-have’s & Musts. There is time now to create sacred space. Both inside my being and out.
Healing Touch this time will be done with MY Ideas and comforts, with no obligation for note taking or specified structure. It will be mine. It will be drumming & bells & rattles. It will be essential oils and hand & foot massage. It will be about SETTING INTENTION THEN TRUSTING it. My “old” business name – Wings of Light – rings true again in this place filled with birdsong, this place where I am now. This place “circled on a map” for me.
I am retired now and beginning to understand what that means. I can say NO. I can say YES. I can find my spot in the world and devote myself to it. Relationships. Giving. My confidence grows with each door that opens on this threaded journey I am on. Spreading my wings. Finding my place, my Light, in this new country. Growing in unexpected ways. I had no idea I would become this person I am today. This little Light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…
We’ve been here 5 months now and our lives have finally begun to take on a rhythm of repeated patterns. A lot of it has been unsettling and difficult – the financial stuff, changing addresses for important information, figuring out where to shop for what, finding the missing items we needed to set up house, etc. For awhile we both really struggled…what have we done to ourselves? We didn’t expect it to be so hard in the beginning. We moved seeking a simpler life. There is a rhythm when you live somewhere as long as we lived in North Carolina. In the US. Switching countries was crazy-brave and we knew there’d be issues. But I don’t think we realized how much we took for granted in terms of managing day to day life. Some things are harder here. But mostly they’re just different and you have to find your way around for awhile.
Ben’s hiking group
Neighborhood walking
We’ve both been sick or injured several times since we got here. The food didn’t set right. The broken sidewalks took a toll. But it seems to be settling now. Hopefully. Ben hikes twice a week and sometimes joins me on my walks through the nearby neighborhoods. Spanish class happens twice a week for me. I love it and enjoy my classmates. Painting and drawing classes 2 days a week are a new pleasure for Ben. It’s fun to see him so excited about a new venture. For once he’s shopping more than me!
Tuesday market
Wednesday tianguis
Machi Ma
Chili Verde
Dharma
On Tuesday mornings I go to the organic market while Ben hikes then wait for him to pick me up on the way home. It’s too hot now to carry a heavy load on foot and there are always friends to talk with while I wait. Wednesday morning after my class we meet up and walk to the town market (tianguis), visit our gringo friend Dick who’s a jewelry vendor there, pick up any fruits and veggies we missed on Tuesday, then head to lunch at one of our nearby haunts. CHOPSTICKS is run by an Asian couple who’ve been here for 18 years. Their 2 teenage sons were born and raised here. Or we might head to the secondhand stores before eating at CAFE NEGRO (best veggie burrito!) or TACO FRIDA (best vegetarian tacos!). Thursday mornings our wonderful housekeeper Chayo comes so we head out for a walk and breakfast at the nearby PATISSERIE FRANCAIS (best croissants and Americano coffee!). We have our favorite ATM now (remember, it’s a cash economy), our favorite fruit vendor, our favorite health food store. We check in with David for a fresh pressed juice and a quick Spanish lesson on the corner near our pharmacy. If we’re in town at lunch time we’ll often stop at MACHI MA or CHILI VERDE, then hit the “dollar store” for any small household items needed. (We tend to avoid Walmart – I’m not driving that far yet and don’t know when I will. Even Ben admits driving is crazy around here.)
Baile Folclórico
Passion Play
Palm Sunday festivities
I’ve come to love going to El Centro – “downtown” – for special events. Palm Sunday, Good Friday, the indigenous fair. Or just to mill around and be part of the community. I try to do this once or twice a week to continue to feel the rhythm of the village. Taking the bus at least one way. It keeps me connected.
There is finally a rhythm to our comings and goings now. There’s a rhythm to buying and disinfecting the produce, paying the bills, doing the laundry, things that were commonplace back “home” but initially seemed daunting here. Even the thumping of the tires on the cobblestones has its rhythm, though that may take a little longer to get used to.
Festival wares
My hand drum
Before we moved I began reading about shamanism and curanderos (healers in Latin America) which brought my attention to drums. At the indigenous festival I was repeatedly drawn to the table of handmade drums and rattles but kept stepping back. This week I opened up a local Facebook page to find a hand drum being sold by a friend. Fortuitous I decided. It is now in my care and reminds me daily of the rhythms of my heart, the rhythms of my life here in Mexico as we move forward, grateful to all those who have helped us along the way.
Ben and I were here last year at this time and experienced our first Ajijic festivities. This year I felt more invested and just had to see what was going on. My friend Judy and I walked down the street (calle) known as Ocampo where the parade would begin and ended up in the midst of it all. Delightful! (I know some of you are not interested in Christian traditions. For me this was just about Mexican traditions. Hope you’ll enjoy!)
Heading to the plaza
Little did we know where this burro was headed!
Even parking markers have flowers
The plaza was alive with color, music, food and people. Families smiling and laughing together. Dressed in their best attire. Interesting that the only disposable products used were plastic forks and spoons. Desserts were served on banana leaves, corn husks or stiff paper. Dinners were served on real plates and drinks in real glasses. You simply handed your dish back when you were done or left it on a table to be bussed. Love it.
Bunuelos-yum!
Flavored waters for sale
Sopes in the works
Handshaving ice
“Frida” calls for the lottery
Primavera tree – Spring!
The street to the nearby cathedral began filling so we knew the procession was coming. We crowded into a little niche that gave us a good view and managed to get a few decent pictures. People took it pretty seriously and the noise level dropped as the crowd pushed serenely toward the cathedral, walking on green limbs of garbanzo plants thrown down (in lieu of palm fronds) to point the way and cushion the path.
Initial view was like a movie scene
The unsuspecting burro carries precious cargo
Followers with serious intent
Those following and some from the plaza made their way into the cathedral courtyard for an open air mass. My friends and I did not attend but were glad to see the event leading up to it. A few families were intensely creating palm frond souvenirs for sale outside the cathedral entrance. Unbelievable how fast they worked. Each cost 12-15 pesos – around 60-75 cents.
Diane & Len
Moving into the courtyard
Creating palm tokens for participants
I insisted on checking out a bread shop on the main street when I saw the words “Gluten Free”. It’s a big deal now with so many gringos requesting it. The sweet clerks proudly explained all about their processes – oat flour, beet root sour dough starter, etc. – and I left with a small but incredibly delicious piece of GF cake for Ben. I realized on my way out that the loaf of bread I considered was $12!!! I’ll pass!
Panaderia
Sweet ladies with sweet pastel
On our way out we tripped (almost literally) upon a dance troop. We had a back seat view but it was still delightful to see these well trained young people so exuberant in preserving and displaying their native dances.
What a wonderful experience! I so loved being in the middle of it, milling around with my new friends and supporting the local culture. This Easter weekend promises to be busy, crowded and loud. But I’ll try not to complain. I am a guest here and am honored to witness their joy and spirit.
I’ve waited for this festival for months. Recognizing indigenous peoples of Mexico. Although it was not as comprehensive as I’d hoped, it was still a lot of fun. Dozens of Mexican families mingled with gringos enjoying street food, music, crafts, and each other. The plaza was hopping!
Meeting new people
Isabel, a Mazahua Indian
Photographer Maureen Clark
Smudging before the opening ceremony
and as part of the ceremony
Following the opening procession surrounded by the sweet smell of rare copal resin, we wound around the plaza, stopping to raise our arms to the four directions. Aztec tribesmen danced in the gazebo, praying for blessing of the weekend event. Let the fun begin!
Preparing the copal
Proceeding to the gazebo
Smoky sacred prayers
Sunday morning was a delight of sacred Aztec tribal dancing by the lake.
Opening the sacred circle
High energy dancing
Saluting the 4 directions
Straight to the heart
Closing the circle to end the dance
Very few people attended this event. To me it was the highlight of the weekend. The energy of the one hour performance outshone the sun. I met a couple of the dancers later who spoke to their experience of Spirit and prayer while performing. Heartfelt and rendered.
Handmade instruments for sale
Playing “soccer”…
to the drumbeat
Nearby on the Malecon, the weekend performance of the Voladares took place, with daredevil swirling from top to bottom, upside down, wrapped in rope that is first wound around the pole. As the Totonacs (from Veracruz) lean off the rotating platform, the rope unwinds and they begin the wild spin downward, attached only by one leg. Atop the pole the remaining person plays haunting flute music. Movement slows as they reach the ground and prepare to repeat the process. Legend has it that the performance originated as a ceremony asking the gods for an end to drought. The Voladores ritual has been named an Intangible cultural heritage by UNESCO in order to help it survive and thrive in the modern world (Wikipedia). Today it is performed at festivals and tourist areas for donations to help fund travel, costumes, etc. Such fun to see something you’ve only read about and anticipated.
Huicholes – a 60 ft+ climb
4-8 end up on top
Untangling upside down
It was a busy weekend, ending with a long walk home in the heat. Yes, it’s dry and hot here now. Which leads me to understand why many Mexican homes are concrete and tile, with few windows. And siestas take place mid-afternoon. Changing routines is not just about retirement!
Home at last, home at last…thank God Almighty, we’re home at last!
Going from this:
Mi hijo y mi nieta!
to this:
Cold………gray……..banking…….taxes………
…was tough. But we got it done. The best part was seeing dear friends and eating in great restaurants. Thanks to all who took time to be with us, share with us. You are all so dear. Make no mistake – we DO miss you.
Dear Friends!
LUNA Peruvian restaurant
Spanish speaking barista!
@ Cocoa Cinnamon
It took me two days to realize not every waiter/waitress wanted to hear me practice my Spanish. But in Cocoa Cinnamon I found a home! Including great Mexican inspired coffee and chocolate drinks like “La Frida” and “Tenochtitlan” (I did not realize this is the ancient name for Mexico City).
We finished our two weeks off with this:
Our lovely family!
And landed back in Guadalajara on Saturday 3/9/19. It was so very hard to walk away from my family. But I’m so happy to have seen how devoted Japhy and Toni are to sweet Hazel Grace. And so happy that Ben and I were able to spend quality time with them, holding little Hazie close (and whispering to her en espanol!). This child is well loved and well cared for.
Ah, Mexico. Home of contradictions.
Chef Girard
Menu @ Jitomate
Ensalada aguacate con camarón
First night out. New (to us) restaurant. The young chef and his staff ring a prayer bowl over each plate to bestow a blessing before serving. I was quite impressed. Is that why my salad tasted so good?
Chili Verde-a favorite
Washing sink in an old building
Cathedral tower
Architectural styles abound
One of many vets
Village woodworking shop
Back to warm, sunny weather. Back to the quirkiness of Mexico. Back to neighbors and bus rides and frequent shopping for necessities. Hopefully we can settle in now and figure out who we really are as retirees living in another country. I am ready to write and read and enjoy friends. Ready to stop trying to “get organized” and just live my life. Ready to strike up spontaneous conversations and explore neighborhoods. Explore Mexico. I’ll miss my 50 year high school reunion. I’ll miss my sweet granddaughter and her parents. I’ll miss how easy it is to find things and take care of things in Los Estados Unidos. All part of peeling back the layers of the onion. The many layers of letting go. I thought I’d done all that. Now I know it is a lifelong lesson. Surely more concentrated in this era of my life.
