tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90197352919653464212024-02-07T04:28:43.656-07:00Now, Voyager -- Once MoreNow Voyager depart!
much, much for thee is yet in store... Walt WhitmanO Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.comBlogger182125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-87693629673741430262009-06-18T09:58:00.005-06:002009-06-18T12:02:56.223-06:00Catching up before signing off<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">First and most important -- Larry has his life back! He drove into Puerto Vallarta on his motorcycle this past Tuesday for check up appointments with those who were involved with all that surgery he had about a month ago. Everyone very happy. And I might mention that he made that drive on the motorcycle after four days full of activity: a kayak paddle to the island and back, two several-hour surf sessions in waves with nine foot faces, and on the fourth day, he and a friend dropped the transmission in our jeep to insert two "indispensible" bolts that the people in the auto repair shop in Lubbock failed to put back last August. Can't believe he <em>drove </em>that thing all the way down here. "Hmmm," he says. "I was wondering what that rattle was." But anyway, he's b-a-a-a-ck. And making me feel like a slug.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So while he was in Puerto Vallarta doing the check up thing, I went with friend Ann and her friend Paul to Tepic and <em>sat </em>in Samantha Bejar's office for two and a half hours. We weren't going to leave until the job was done. Samantha is the attorney that so many people down here have used for their real estate transactions, a busy mom, a competent attorney -- just a little lax on follow up details. Sigh. I'm afraid I can relate. But then, I'm not getting paid for following up on details. (This is a special note to our <a href="http://www.taxesinmexico.com/">new CPA in Ajijic -- Marian</a>, I <em>will </em>answer your tax questions. Promise, promise, promise. I <em>hate </em>that stuff!) </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I know, I know, swallow a frog first thing every morning and get it out of the way. Well, it's Mexico. Isn't a frog once a week good enough? I swallowed a big one in Tepic. So did Ann. We both feel better for having done it. Ann bought her house from her friend Paul, and they have had unresolved issues with paper work for three years. It wasn't a big deal between the two of them, but now Ann has resold the house and she's HAD to get those issues cleared up so she can get her money. As far as Larry and I are concerned, when we went to pay our bank trust fee this year, a sharp-eyed clerk noticed that the trust had never been transferred to our name! Sure the <em>property </em>was in our name, according to the documents, and we have been paying the yearly fee, but <em>officially, </em>the trust is still in the name of the previous owners. Paperwork never received from the attorney. As Pooh Bear says, "Oh, Bother." Well, we've got the paperwork NOW, and I'll hand carry it into Bancomer tomorrow morning, along with Paul and Ann when we go to PV for the weekend. Frog swallowing accomplished! </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Now comes the <em>good </em>part -- </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Reason for going to Vallarta: A FREE CONCERT ON THE MALECON!!!! Alejandro Fernandez and 20 other singers are giving two huge concerts over the next two weekends, one here on the coast, and the other in Guadalajara, to give a boost to Mexican tourism. Some of the other singers are Enrique Iglesias, Paula Rubino, and Gloria Estefan, though no one is sure who is showing up where. But the music starts at 8 on Saturday night and ends at one in the morning. A group of us have reservations in a restaurant overlooking the place where it's going to be held, and Roberto has borrowed a condo from a friend in Conchas Chinas, so we don't have to be out on the road late at night. Hooray! Viva Mexico! </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And <em>VIVA la lluvia</em>! At last we had rain. Blessed and blessing big fat drops that have cooled the air, washed the dust off, and tempered the rays of the sun. Glorious wonderful rain!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Did I mention I'm signing off here? Ah, yes. It's in the title. I think it's time to officially move to </span><a href="http://www.goddessoftheamericas.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Virgin Territory</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, the blog I've begun to support my book of the same name. It was getting responses from faithful readers of Now, Voyager -- Once More saying, "You should write a book," that planted the idea of writing the book in the first place. The manuscript is not yet complete, but it has an eight chapter start, I know what goes in the next four, and I know how it ends. Now all I have to do is <em>write it! </em>My goal is to have a completed working document by the time I turn 60. That's July 21, only weeks away. If I keep saying that publically, I'll have people holding my feet to the fire. That's YOUR job!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Platform is everything," say those in-the-know in the publishing world. Well YOU are an integral plank in my platform, if you follow this blog. I'm so grateful for your comments and encouragement. Please keep at it. But let's just move over a notch and give ourselves an official name. From now on, I'll be posting on </span><a href="http://www.goddessoftheamericas.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Virgin Territory</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. Come join me there!</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com189tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-3970973407370552072009-06-09T21:46:00.002-06:002009-06-09T22:02:27.193-06:00Hanging Out on Sunday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKYoGtMyRwEwTKjO7ypj0qRRTnfz25myxA511dNIfQGvFm1TOnH5rfp05FEfTiT5BZVTGwDYCSsSxlVHIa4pq3j8EhY2LinTkZMGlWrMglnyrJwXGjxyhWQll905HE8n9894eovtfoprp/s1600-h/Lin+and+Susan+at+Chac+Mool.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345540446213563010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKYoGtMyRwEwTKjO7ypj0qRRTnfz25myxA511dNIfQGvFm1TOnH5rfp05FEfTiT5BZVTGwDYCSsSxlVHIa4pq3j8EhY2LinTkZMGlWrMglnyrJwXGjxyhWQll905HE8n9894eovtfoprp/s200/Lin+and+Susan+at+Chac+Mool.jpg" /></a> Larry was watching NASCAR last Sunday (what else is new?) so my friend Lin and I ran away to check out Chac Mool's new location near the beach in Chacala. We were two very happy cappuchino sippers. Not a lot going on, just hanging out and being happy. I've been working steadily on <em>Virgin Territory, </em>and finally seeing it come together. I know where the holes are to fill in. <br /><div align="center">Nose to the keyboard, </div><div align="center">sweat on the brow, </div><div align="center">I'll blog now and then, </div><div align="center">but more "sometime" than now.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="left">Good thing it's not going to be a poetry book, right? </div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-353547687105119152009-05-26T12:51:00.007-06:002009-05-26T21:04:52.869-06:00Being There<div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovjj8imne1LAx0D6MYGmXB_US7jWytt6Km4glPBG-JxS7pt1-uNr2HWDfODTQjDgBLNdlv4o7b4BNgNSbn0GBAIF994c5qdfPJJahMsuC4gDutZP7ZBojBnSuNEl20rknhewuyCZu0u26/s1600-h/Huichol+art+016.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340234009721049010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovjj8imne1LAx0D6MYGmXB_US7jWytt6Km4glPBG-JxS7pt1-uNr2HWDfODTQjDgBLNdlv4o7b4BNgNSbn0GBAIF994c5qdfPJJahMsuC4gDutZP7ZBojBnSuNEl20rknhewuyCZu0u26/s200/Huichol+art+016.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Anyone who spends longer than a week or two vacation in Mexico knows that it's not what you do with your time that's important, it's <em>who </em>you do it with. Connecting with <em>people</em> is what is most important in this country, being there, definitely, for life's big events, but even more important, being present for the small daily stuff that ultimately determines the quality of human life. The guy who shows up each morning to sweep the main plaza in La Penita, Oscar who comes regularly to service the pool and water the plants, Josefina and Marta who arrive like clockwork to mop the floors and keep the cobwebs and dust under control, the man who runs out with the dolly to help the fishing boats over the sandbar into the ocean -- every last one is needed, and if they don't show up, they're missed.</span> <div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPSCC3gZJfUWsX7M89SfG38UtTpv2B0PSkz17D16x3FsoPw9Ry5Ios5ECD4ziBafHxnePZC8j4hna8RraN46Jcu52_yDCzXd0tEm0DcaqioA-pV3apM9vxtIdT3ooVqurm23bnGfuSZey/s1600-h/Huichol+art+014.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340234005854643682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguPSCC3gZJfUWsX7M89SfG38UtTpv2B0PSkz17D16x3FsoPw9Ry5Ios5ECD4ziBafHxnePZC8j4hna8RraN46Jcu52_yDCzXd0tEm0DcaqioA-pV3apM9vxtIdT3ooVqurm23bnGfuSZey/s200/Huichol+art+014.jpg" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"No one will miss me," is not an acceptable excuse for missing one of life's big events, either. Even if wedding receptions appear to be little more than "sitting around," you can bet that if you're not there, notice will be taken. Far from being a social pressure thing, there's something precious in the importance imputed to each individual. It's nice to know you're valued, an essential part of the social fabric, and there would be a hole if you weren't there. A party at Thomas Bartlett's Hacienda La Penita a few weeks ago is a good example.</span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRmwTAeipMLQGZnMRsMV0zGSD8IjJkt0cObLfQZHMngYoXUljx4oetOdR5lPGNKI-FIHPj_WBBDAc8wC2Slkb25emPMfrk-apCqQaMMFvps_VrBo2PEZYOh-fiOjaEGctpRDnvEWh2dA6/s1600-h/Huichol+art+018.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340233989891273858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRmwTAeipMLQGZnMRsMV0zGSD8IjJkt0cObLfQZHMngYoXUljx4oetOdR5lPGNKI-FIHPj_WBBDAc8wC2Slkb25emPMfrk-apCqQaMMFvps_VrBo2PEZYOh-fiOjaEGctpRDnvEWh2dA6/s200/Huichol+art+018.jpg" /></a></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The occasion was wishing a friend Godspeed on a healing journey -- to let her know we loved and supported her through the challenge she's facing. A large group gathered under the palm trees, shared pot luck finger food, and circled together for prayers and affirmations for our friend. But most of all, we just "sat around." </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkYu0_m-bnxQa3H56wWwapnDNKvKPozaN11VVPlh-qVCetMwqGa7X5wMJyke_ZrxUB8tGPeVFdo7EgwnIxA-wMm7Y1cea5lrTjFSCrj2HvYA75GchgA-raU7D6EHFsC8LDuNxZQ6spfMF/s1600-h/Huichol+art+006.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340233997895090962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkYu0_m-bnxQa3H56wWwapnDNKvKPozaN11VVPlh-qVCetMwqGa7X5wMJyke_ZrxUB8tGPeVFdo7EgwnIxA-wMm7Y1cea5lrTjFSCrj2HvYA75GchgA-raU7D6EHFsC8LDuNxZQ6spfMF/s200/Huichol+art+006.jpg" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The important thing for our friend was for us to <em>be there.</em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">On a more mundane level, a group of us needing an excuse to get out of the house on a regular basis, have started meeting for breakfast Tuesday mornings at La Casita, a local restaurant in La Penita. When the weather gets hot, I for one tend to go into hermit mode. It's good to emerge and make contact with real live people from time to time.</span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSaVm2qMlGqGJaLt66M2Pg8kNS9q88PzQoe3XR5HQPGd1Y65K0zs1g5MFC9FqptDcPPWOygBKRUHqmHpXhqUDVA8p3voBhPHsP3LBL2uQQRiNKIgahrVMKXKnCPy-36JLzOgmWUm3S_vI/s1600-h/Huichol+art+021.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340247945104899794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbSaVm2qMlGqGJaLt66M2Pg8kNS9q88PzQoe3XR5HQPGd1Y65K0zs1g5MFC9FqptDcPPWOygBKRUHqmHpXhqUDVA8p3voBhPHsP3LBL2uQQRiNKIgahrVMKXKnCPy-36JLzOgmWUm3S_vI/s200/Huichol+art+021.jpg" /></a>I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJygnzNAFERQspBEwda_ePZdOIx9l67ss2QeXunh7Efyp1KX_XYJtIgOLuywyUQ4NBUI7k5DY0FIUOjpH6uWmkJkYsG11pI-6NhW4wTu0Ltjf3PibPBnpkDYEZAFaRzVRW2otlivGXS-Q4/s1600-h/Huichol+art+020.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340297267114035858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJygnzNAFERQspBEwda_ePZdOIx9l67ss2QeXunh7Efyp1KX_XYJtIgOLuywyUQ4NBUI7k5DY0FIUOjpH6uWmkJkYsG11pI-6NhW4wTu0Ltjf3PibPBnpkDYEZAFaRzVRW2otlivGXS-Q4/s200/Huichol+art+020.jpg" /></a></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">La Casita is run by recently-divorced Irma and her daughter Ceci, and our morning gatherings offer a good opportunity to support these women in their new enterprise. They're always surrounded by brothers, grandchildren, and other family members who drop by.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbdfSMJmoNjcJotM3utOhS6VU72j3eLR3s6HH9oOAU9EDYY45TniQ-OOF2UBLrJvPQMPPkY0QiuPqsAikEOo1tICDXdJ-RWbEk_MCDE_sBYxbA6mKHqeujr0VoERm80_5CL9KyjuDjm6K/s1600-h/Huichol+art+023.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340297265971234018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbdfSMJmoNjcJotM3utOhS6VU72j3eLR3s6HH9oOAU9EDYY45TniQ-OOF2UBLrJvPQMPPkY0QiuPqsAikEOo1tICDXdJ-RWbEk_MCDE_sBYxbA6mKHqeujr0VoERm80_5CL9KyjuDjm6K/s200/Huichol+art+023.jpg" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Irma's ex-husband got the restaurant they <em>used </em>to run together. It was situated in a prominent location at the end of the main avenue right next to the market place. It did a bang up business and was always crowded. Irma's new place is out of the way on a side street. You have to know where it is to find it, but it's slowly being discovered. It's worth the hunt! The standard breakfast of two eggs, beans, tortillas, bacon (or ham or "winis") is 25 pesos. A tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice will set you back another 15 pesos. But I've grown very fond of an avocado sandwich on whole wheat that's not on the menu. They make it up specially. I told Ceci last week they HAD to start charging more than 15 pesos for that sandwich, especially when they add bacon to it. She was protesting the size of the tip the five of us had left, which basically equalled the amount of the whole check. But we want these women to stay in business! We want them to <em>be there.</em></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Besides, you never can tell who will drop in to La Casita for breakfast. This morning there was a Green Angel. </span><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhyphenhyphen_Gs0tiGmIxJfztY16wKmWTe106gHmqG6PvyGVyoWyndtIdlRlJNsn9mTBCuVrOGkU7t9ujwK7pTnXluDWJYzRqLSg8b0O6SUSZRJy8po_dWB3gdVl31pCp8ms3jY2EoPeKXaGlUQDe/s1600-h/Huichol+art+024.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340247952443826226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhyphenhyphen_Gs0tiGmIxJfztY16wKmWTe106gHmqG6PvyGVyoWyndtIdlRlJNsn9mTBCuVrOGkU7t9ujwK7pTnXluDWJYzRqLSg8b0O6SUSZRJy8po_dWB3gdVl31pCp8ms3jY2EoPeKXaGlUQDe/s200/Huichol+art+024.jpg" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">These are the guys who are dedicated to helping distressed motorists on the highways and toll roads all over Mexico. They aren't volunteers; the program is federally funded. They carry water, motor oil, extra gasoline, jumper cables, and all are trained for medical emergencies. The service is free, aside from the cost of oil and gas the traveller may need to replenish his vehicle. Tips are probably welcome, but always optional. Those of us at breakfast agreed, Los Angeles Verdes are just one more example of a society where watching out for each other gets a high priority, where <em>being there </em>is the most important thing of all.</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-21622456027258488322009-05-21T09:41:00.008-06:002009-05-21T11:17:13.666-06:00Chocolate? Aaaaah....CHOCOLATE! And coffee, too!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1uk_fhD4kai0slODXeoXVYeDaU8TwFX9QkeHxtenjihkzrwhayXARzQkCHvljqcGya4xdLhxI1o9zARciK1RqWiTKsvoObcZyrDXmoxYcAmnLU_dD4LYNCrjEnkb-KrDzpWniwPFUQBs/s1600-h/set_275.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 166px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338321348627392242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1uk_fhD4kai0slODXeoXVYeDaU8TwFX9QkeHxtenjihkzrwhayXARzQkCHvljqcGya4xdLhxI1o9zARciK1RqWiTKsvoObcZyrDXmoxYcAmnLU_dD4LYNCrjEnkb-KrDzpWniwPFUQBs/s200/set_275.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'm escaping from a hot kitchen for a few minutes and coming into my hermetically sealed office to enjoy the A/C. Thought I'd share with you what I've been doing "out there." I've been playing with <em>chocolate.</em> (This would be the place for a great big emoticon happy face.) Oh, what the heck? :-))))))))</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I have been guilty, as most gringos have been, to responding to friends' inquiries of "What can we bring you?" with a vociferous, "CHOCOLATE!!! <em>GOOD </em>CHOCOLATE." It has always been a matter of consternation to me WHY in the country (even before it was a country) which gave chocolate to the Old World it seems impossible to find a decent chocolate bar. There doesn't seem to be even anything on a par with a Hershey's kiss, which is setting the bar pretty darn low. I have hovered lovingly over gifts of San Francisco Ghirardelli's squares, Suchard and Frigor bars from Switzerland, and bags of Dove kisses purchased on sale at Walgreen's in Lubbock. If I exercise self-restraint, I'm faced with the dilemma of storage -- too cold in the fridge and freezer, but getting way too warm to leave them out in the tropics. What's a chocolate lover to do without a local source to satisfy that dark-tinged hunger? </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then I had chocolate fondue at my friend, Karen's, across the estero.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"WHERE did you get this chocolate?" I asked, dunking my second piece of fresh pineapple in a deep dark puddle of almost black chocolate laced with cinnamon, vanilla and almond flavors. It clung to the fruit with just the right consistency. There were also strawberries on the plate, and they were going even faster than the pineapple, but chocolate tends to run off round things, where if you've got a flat surface you can sort of pile it up and get more on.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"At the grocery in town," she answers. "It's those tablets you get in the cardboard cartons, you know the cylindrical ones -- Abuelita, Ibarra, Don Somebody. I just stick them in the microwave with a little cream and stir. That's it."</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">THAT'S IT??? That's all that's required to reach Nirvana??? When did life get so simple? Those tablets -- and I've seen them for ages in grocery stores in the States -- have always been a mystery to me. Right on the label it says, "chocolate for the table." <em>Hard </em>as a table, I've thought. About three inches in diameter and half an inch thick, they're sectioned into pie shapes. Try breaking them in pieces and they shatter. Bite one, you're liable to break your teeth. You probably wouldn't be inclined to bite one, as the tablets are riddled with sugar crystals and other stuff that looks gritty and inedible. This is a product lacking all the charms of chocolate -- until you MELT it. Ahhhh! Then it gets magical.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There are no paraffin or preservatives in this chocolate. Put some chunks in a teacup with a little water and nuke it for under a minute. It's rich enough you can make cocoa with water or milk. Add Maizena (basically cornstarch), boil some more and it thickens into <em>champurado -- </em>what Mexicans think of when they think hot chocolate, but is more like hot chocolate pudding for us gringos. </span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Just melted with a little liquid provides you a fudgy paste for scooping up and eating with a spoon. You can drop it in your hot coffee, or add it to smoothies and ice cream. For the last week or so, I've been in search of duplicating George's coffee-shop-in-Guayabitos mochachinno, since he closes from 2-6 every afternoon...and that's when I NEED a mochachinno!!! I'm getting close now, with this chocolate mixture. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I brew </span><a href="http://www.gourmetsleuth.com/cafedeolla.htm"><em><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">cafe de la olla</span></em></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em> </em>and store it in the fridge. I freeze milk in ice cube trays. When the urge strikes, I p</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">our the cold coffee in the blender, add a scoop of the fudgy chocolate stuff, and dump some milky ice cubes in there. Hit the button and varooom! We are very happy campers indeed. Every recipe needs adjustment for personal tastes, however. And <em>that's </em>what I've been doing in the kitchen this morning. Playing with chocolate and coffee. Hey, I'm good to go....and go....and go. </span></div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-69902034102203509572009-05-19T13:06:00.003-06:002009-05-19T13:12:14.730-06:00Support for Mexico - Amazing Race<table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"><tbody><tr><td valign="top"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here's an email I received today. Thought it worth posting here and getting the word out.<br /></span><blockquote style="BORDER-LEFT: rgb(16,16,255) 2px solid; PADDING-LEFT: 5px; MARGIN-LEFT: 5px"><br /><div id="yiv1179044159"><div><div><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#0080ff;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,128,255)" lang="ES">Hi; unless you've been living under a rock, you know Mexico needs a tourism boost. In PV, alone, hotels are down 90%, we all know friends and neighbors who are struggling to stay employed or keep their businesses going. So Mexico has a chance to be chosen as a site for Amazing Race on TV which would bring a much needed positive PR shot in the arm to this country. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#0080ff;"></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><br /></span></span><b><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#0080ff;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,128,255); FONT-WEIGHT: boldfont-family:Verdana;" lang="ES" >Go directly to the Amazing Race site and vote:</span></span></b><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span lang="ES" style="font-family:Verdana;"><a style="COLOR: rgb(29,30,206)" href="http://www.tudiscovery.com/race/inicio.shtml" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><b><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">http://www.tudiscovery.com/race/inicio.shtml</span></b></a></span></span><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"></span></span></div></div><table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"><tbody><tr><td style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 0in; MARGIN: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0in; PADDING-RIGHT: 0in; PADDING-TOP: 0infont-family:arial, sans-serif;" valign="top" ><div><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;color:red;"><span style="color:red;"> </span></span><br /><span style="color:red;"><span style="color:red;">Non-Spanish speakers - When you get to the Amazing Race sight, it's in Spanish - just look for where it says "Encuesta" (survey), vote for Mexico , then click "Votar"...easy!</span></span><br /><b><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;color:#60bf00;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(96,191,0); FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Send this to everyone you know who is a fan of Mexico and let's help get Mexico back on it's feet!!! </span></span></b><span style="color:#0080ff;"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,128,255)"> </span></span></div><div></div><div></div></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div></blockquote></td></tr></tbody></table>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-54989217847769837962009-05-15T23:10:00.003-06:002009-05-15T23:24:30.964-06:00Lucy in the Streets with Dancing<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For those of you who have followed this blog, you've heard about Lucy. Maybe you've even met our young British writer friend who has compiled a group of minimalist stories about her life in the funky beach towns of Guayabitos and La Penita. Now you can see her, courtesy of X</span><a href="http://xaltemba.tv/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">altemba.TV,</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> the creation of our film-maker friend Juan Gonzalez, who was inspired to start putting some of these little stories on tape. </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ce1CZXfgIA4"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Follow this link </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">to get the first taste. Set against the real backdrop of Semana Santa and the spontaneous revelry that takes place in our streets, Lucy meets and dances with a mysterious stranger....who looks a LOT like Sergio the waiter from </span><a href="http://www.xaltemba.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Xaltemba Restaurant and Gallery</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">! (And surprise! Xaltemba.com has this video featured on its homepage! Lucy, you're a star!!!!)</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-42983564487597034402009-05-12T22:35:00.003-06:002009-05-12T23:59:13.196-06:00SOMEBODY needs to spend money in Puerto Vallarta<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So we did. Not exactly a weekend at the Westin, but we left the economy considerably pumped up after three nights in </span><a href="http://www.virtualvallarta.com/pv/sanjavier/index.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">San Javier de Marina Hospital. </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Kidney stones. Larry. You really don't want to know the details. Suffice it to say we're back home again, the stones are pretty much gone or going, and he's looking forward to having his life back. For people in Puerto Vallarta, it's going to be a bit longer. Caught between very diligent goverment efforts and horrific foreign press, tourist activity-- almost <em>any </em>activity -- has come to a screeching halt.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's been two weeks since a cruise ship has docked. It's strange to see the marina without at least one floating city at anchor in the harbor. Usually there are two or three. Every car coming into the city is stopped for inspection. We were when we came in Friday. The guy in uniform was appeased when I said we were headed for a hospital. Then he asked me what the English word for <em>tos </em>was, illustrating his meaning by imitating a cough. If you don't look healthy, or have even a little <em>tos, </em>you are turned back to where you came from. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As we came into town, we saw lines of yellow cabs sidelined along Avenida Francisco Medina Ascensio, the long main thoroughfare that leads into town, waiting for non-existent fares. Hotels are experiencing their lowest occupancy rates <em>ever. </em>Most airlines have cancelled all but one flight a day. Westjet has suspended their flights altogether. Bars, movies and nightclubs have shut down completely. Restaurants might as well be closed. On Saturday afternoon I took a break for a couple of hours and visited my friend Char. She had gone to </span><a href="http://www.viteapv.com/overview.htm"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Vitea's </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">for breakfast/brunch earlier by herself at 11:30. It's a popular bistro, oceanfront on the malecon. An easy place for meeting friends, it's usually crowded, especially on weekends, even during the hot summer months. She was their FIRST customer of the day, and the ONLY customer during her whole meal. As if she were personally responsible for the solvency of her favorite restaurant, she ordered a huge meal and left a ginormous tip. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Char's condo is in a building just off the malecon, opposite the ladder statue. When I drove to her place, I was able to park right around the corner from her entrance-- a feat unheard of on any normal day. But at least she's been able to sleep at night, with Senor Frog's, Hilo, and performances at the Arches all closed and cancelled. Even though Char was full to the gills, we stepped catty-corner across the street to <a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowUserReviews-g150793-d1230394-r24042012-Maria_Gallo-Puerto_Vallarta_Pacific_Coast.html">Maria Gallo</a>, where I got the one full meal I enjoyed the whole time I was in PV. <em>Comida corrida </em>-- or <em>plat du jour</em> if you were in France. It was an agua fresca, soup or salad and choice of <em>plato fuerte, </em>all for 55 pesos. Char wrapped hers up and took it home. I scraped every delicious bite off the plate.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As in the States, when the going gets tough, the tough go to Walmart. I headed there before going back to the hospital. I think this was the busiest place in town! Why not? It's cheap and it's air conditioned. The staff there were all wearing masks. The busiest personnel were those using squirt bottles to sanitize the handle of each shopping cart as it was returned, and then once again before offering it to a new customer. I suppose this would be an ideal time for masked bandits to pull off a job....but I haven't heard of any. Believe me, <em>nothing </em>exciting is happening in PV right now.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Things will change. They always do. Business will pick up again, tourists will return. The first ones back will be welcomed with open arms and phenomenal deals. Think about coming down and shoring up the economy of a country that's been really hard hit from bad press and caution. Puerto Vallarta has so much to offer -- and you're sure to have a better time than we did whereever you stay!</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-89291714524831934562009-05-02T22:37:00.004-06:002009-05-02T22:50:13.634-06:00Huichol Bead Work<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhosCQPoYjm0Xey0j90lDojUVhvWVmmHRwrd_WmCnqNtJ4wSc5xP06gXfuw46Bp0PcDlueUXJE8kF-2iMxLykUVJuv6tNzzozBtJvXM5vX1QboPkP8ZjNJ502BzQw05vjgJSAT6bKss0g2l/s1600-h/Huichol+art+005.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331453405028900994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhosCQPoYjm0Xey0j90lDojUVhvWVmmHRwrd_WmCnqNtJ4wSc5xP06gXfuw46Bp0PcDlueUXJE8kF-2iMxLykUVJuv6tNzzozBtJvXM5vX1QboPkP8ZjNJ502BzQw05vjgJSAT6bKss0g2l/s200/Huichol+art+005.jpg" /></a> <table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0"><tbody><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">(Double-click on the image above to get a really detailed view of the work.)</span> <tr><td valign="top"><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">I spent several hours this morning with Eduardo, a Huichol Indian from the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /><st1:place><st1:placetype>village</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename>San Andrés</st1:placename></st1:place> high in the Sierra Madre northwest of <st1:city><st1:place>Tepic</st1:place></st1:city>. The only way to get to the village besides a very long hike is by air. Eduardo spends the tourist season down in our area selling his beadwork at the Thursday market (which is now cancelled because of swine flu fears) and on the beach near the all-inclusive Los Cocos resort at the far end of Guayabitos. He is getting ready to return to his village for the summer months (much cooler up there!). </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">He was not happy to return without fulfilling a promise to a friend of his – to sell a piece of artwork she had created, and which would provide the major source of funds for her family this year. She is one of the elders of the tribe, and was one of the first to begin using the colored beads about twenty five years ago. Prior to that, Huichol beadwork was done in earth tones.This kind of beadwork is not sewn, but the little glass beads are embedded in a beeswax surface one at a time. There is no space left between the beads. This particular work took her two months to complete. </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">It is of a size and value that is beyond the budgets of most of our local tourists, especially this year. She was asking the equivalent of about $350 U.S. dollars. I told Eduardo I would take it to a party we're going to tomorrow, and try to sell it for him there, but I would need to know something about what the picture meant. "It's the story that will sell it," I told him, and this is the explanation he provided as we sat in my kitchen this morning. </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">In the center we see a ceremonial house which is where all the rituals and prayers take place and are participated in by the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">jicareros. </i>These are like priests, and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">marakame </i>or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">chaman </i>is like the high priest. Directly below the house, looking like he's carrying a chain saw, we see the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">marakame</i> who is in charge of ordering the deer hunt for the ceremony.</span> </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">In order to have a ceremony, Eduardo told me, it's always necessary to have a deer present. "A live deer?" I ask. "No," he says, looking at me like I'm a little slow. "We kill them. All that's necessary to have is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">head </i>of the deer." The deer is always "invited" to be present this way because each Huichol considers the deer as his or her older brother. "Interesting way to deal with sibling rivalry," I think. Anyway, for this reason we see to the right of the ceremonial house several invited older brothers who probably have no idea what's in store for them. </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The picture seemed to me to be divided not only in three tiers, but in two distinct halves, the left half being feminine, and the right masculine. Eduardo agreed that this was the way it was meant to be. So to the left of the house balancing out the older brothers, we see the corn girls. According to Huichol legend, one of the beautiful daughters of the goddess (who is kneeling just to the right of the six girls) was carried off by a man and installed in his house. When he returned to "claim" her, all he found was a corn plant which grew and flourished. So legend has it that all her daughters were converted to corn plants, which would be a way of not only protecting them, but turning them into objects of reverence. They are depicted in the six colors of corn: yellow, white, blue, purple, brown and pink.</span> </span></p><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /></p><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">What this picture really deals with, says Eduardo, is the time when the world was lost and covered with water. On the right hand we see the canoe with the man who saved all the animals. "Noah?" I ask. "He could be." "Is this a story the Huichol got from the Bible?" "Well, who knows?" Eduardo shrugs. </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(The Huichols and the Kora, which are the indigenous tribes of Nayarit, never were converted to Christianity, and their ferocity in resisting the Spaniards caused the Spanish conquerors to move the capital of "Nueva <st1:country-region><st1:place>Galicia</st1:place></st1:country-region>" away from Compostela to <st1:city><st1:place>Guadalajara</st1:place></st1:city>. And so our adopted home state has remained a remote Mexican backwater for centuries.)</span> </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">On the left is the woman responsible for the flood. Yes, a woman -- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Takutsi Nakawe</i> who is the goddess of rain and water. That's also her in the upper left hand corner taking care of the corn, with her own little "canoe" filled with animals. Just to the right of center on the upper tier is another <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">marakame </i>bringing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Takutsi Nakawe</i> an offering of corn from the field behind him. </span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><br /><p style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Having the story definitely made the difference. Right after Eduardo left, I got a visit from one of our neighbors. They bought it! Happy ending and I'm a lot more knowledgeable about the Huichols and their legends.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /><o:p></o:p></span> </span><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div></td></tr></tbody></table>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-70036834421126120962009-04-20T22:59:00.002-06:002009-04-20T23:04:37.003-06:00Looks like Palm Desert....but it's Guadalajara!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I've posted a few pictures of where Agneta and I stayed in Guadalajara during Semana Santa. They're in one of the photo albums you can reach by clicking "Susan's Photo Albums" over there on the side bar. Or you can </span><a href="http://nowvoyageroncemore.shutterfly.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">click here</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. It was a lovely week's get away! </span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-89781056454309717192009-04-14T00:43:00.003-06:002009-04-14T01:37:39.853-06:00What do you call a surfboard stuck on a wall?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> ART! Last Thursday saw the opening of </span><a href="http://www.xaltemba.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Endless Summer: The Art of Surfboard Shaping"</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> -- complete with professional hula dancers and a personal appearance by <em>premier shaper </em>and humble hubby of mine,<em> </em>Larry "Cobbo" Cobb. I wasn't there for the big event (off to Guadalajara for a week) but I took some photos just after the exhibit was hung. </span><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMybVE0yPFvKecUp4-cgmR6Et2TcfhSF1NnDyMPACEenvevnPY99X5jeDZOXkre8HWXC20m-dDvTcL-eT5W1XPwQZ_2CmoT1jr62jZA9M-XOsgVZbHmGA-k6WLkW6VRHPreYVj3EDc5ajv/s1600-h/Sunday+April+5+054.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></a> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Those of you from the Sano crew (that's San Onofre, CA) will recognize prints of </span><a href="http://fredhopeartist.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Fred Hope's </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">watercolors and the oil painting "Circle of Friends" of his that Cobbo gave me for Christmas a few years back.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFEaZfuFb4aeTRC9pYALKEFhjV3or228eSfN3vlX_aUCuzeo5ns_Tqxksb0yArENhZOdCtMSEVm3UcuhgiGUOuuNz8_ZqwW_ymr2N9i4PLBoZna70lLXfuq7bqC24W9WeYE64RLqau5E5/s1600-h/Sunday+April+5+056.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324442003195599106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFEaZfuFb4aeTRC9pYALKEFhjV3or228eSfN3vlX_aUCuzeo5ns_Tqxksb0yArENhZOdCtMSEVm3UcuhgiGUOuuNz8_ZqwW_ymr2N9i4PLBoZna70lLXfuq7bqC24W9WeYE64RLqau5E5/s200/Sunday+April+5+056.jpg" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There are also photos of the master shaper at work and on the waves, </span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtF8VPqi3WPeDsj-r8r8hhUCn8Oiu59m0GYjtzm1aOQ0cTOPfbmsdQ5_xGAp-g1mgbqNFjWaBH5sWdsVW-kgR4JaQL9dlGP2FeamyHWji0Q6D3bo-bW1bCxGE0OfDrxW_eomjzkkJGMd-/s1600-h/Sunday+April+5+055.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324441997076793234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRtF8VPqi3WPeDsj-r8r8hhUCn8Oiu59m0GYjtzm1aOQ0cTOPfbmsdQ5_xGAp-g1mgbqNFjWaBH5sWdsVW-kgR4JaQL9dlGP2FeamyHWji0Q6D3bo-bW1bCxGE0OfDrxW_eomjzkkJGMd-/s200/Sunday+April+5+055.jpg" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">as well as that long, long drawing "Friends of the Three Wisemen." </span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsFTV-ByboWJHlUGT4mDKZCN2LFzNFwGq8dVZtwLJA4Mm8lZ5FDdOOhyT-XTMazBneSCkujAS5kcIk-1ION2_AfwilmQ7sqkLvylyjQbCmFvJ7hSB-w5an1eJyHtrAV274XQXD96FPTy0/s1600-h/Sunday+April+5+058.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324441984732291058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibsFTV-ByboWJHlUGT4mDKZCN2LFzNFwGq8dVZtwLJA4Mm8lZ5FDdOOhyT-XTMazBneSCkujAS5kcIk-1ION2_AfwilmQ7sqkLvylyjQbCmFvJ7hSB-w5an1eJyHtrAV274XQXD96FPTy0/s200/Sunday+April+5+058.jpg" /></span></a></div><div> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And then there were also <em>the boards. </em></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Standing in corners</span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoXqVyWeLVelSEZuJTfwukXujZPawMG2tWDFtGqbVn8OwNabu0SH1TvnEaVj9TK_vfqiCNnciAwHhxsl6zcareuE00GxpBrttbWgFZNm6dQzmXxtcRBkSsNAHcu6TeSJm846xdHi1PQwq/s1600-h/Sunday+April+5+053.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324441992453863634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoXqVyWeLVelSEZuJTfwukXujZPawMG2tWDFtGqbVn8OwNabu0SH1TvnEaVj9TK_vfqiCNnciAwHhxsl6zcareuE00GxpBrttbWgFZNm6dQzmXxtcRBkSsNAHcu6TeSJm846xdHi1PQwq/s200/Sunday+April+5+053.jpg" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And hanging from the ceiling over the bar.</span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMybVE0yPFvKecUp4-cgmR6Et2TcfhSF1NnDyMPACEenvevnPY99X5jeDZOXkre8HWXC20m-dDvTcL-eT5W1XPwQZ_2CmoT1jr62jZA9M-XOsgVZbHmGA-k6WLkW6VRHPreYVj3EDc5ajv/s1600-h/Sunday+April+5+054.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img style="WIDTH: 150px; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324441998220615826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMybVE0yPFvKecUp4-cgmR6Et2TcfhSF1NnDyMPACEenvevnPY99X5jeDZOXkre8HWXC20m-dDvTcL-eT5W1XPwQZ_2CmoT1jr62jZA9M-XOsgVZbHmGA-k6WLkW6VRHPreYVj3EDc5ajv/s200/Sunday+April+5+054.jpg" /></span></a></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was a fun event, and brought in some of the tourists that were here for Semana Santa, the week leading up to Easter. Ah, well. A great way to end the season for </span><a href="http://www.xaltemba.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Xaltemba Gallery and Restaurant,</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> one of the nicest places to gather here on </span><a href="http://www.jaltemba.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Jaltemba Bay</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">.</span></div></div></div></div></div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-12935529576152237312009-04-05T08:00:00.002-06:002009-04-05T10:01:51.298-06:00Washing a Chicken<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxP188j9pFeqpLrtyubCx0tN1i549jVypfbndAGSRdvdsU-Ae7fX7uouyeVBiIvOY67mBdGGcwKVJKeArqusih6IkJfT9zecFZ7A7KTZFD1tD_GH7fVUleNC-xZmk3mn-5tA9iawdaeXui/s1600-h/washing+a+chicken+2.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321207929296155570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxP188j9pFeqpLrtyubCx0tN1i549jVypfbndAGSRdvdsU-Ae7fX7uouyeVBiIvOY67mBdGGcwKVJKeArqusih6IkJfT9zecFZ7A7KTZFD1tD_GH7fVUleNC-xZmk3mn-5tA9iawdaeXui/s200/washing+a+chicken+2.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In economic melt-down times when everything seems out of control, it can be a relief to focus on daily details that make a difference in the quality of life. Like this guy attending to the personal hygiene of his chicken. Cleanliness is next to godliness, right? In La Colonia, it's also next to the highway. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span> </div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Lots of good bye events, "last time" for whatever-s, and fond farewells these days. Gringos headed north, even though I hear there's still snow on the ground where a lot of these people are headed. I made some very good friends of some incredibly interesting people this last season. La Penita has become a place for writers, artists and creative types from the frozen latitudes to come down, thaw out and live cheaply over the winter. My friend Lupita and her husband Angus (yes, he's from Scotland) bought a bungalow hotel (kitchens included in each room). The tall wall that surrounds it hides a sweet little swimming pool, palapa-covered patio, and about eight small units. Renters pay one hundred pesos a night for pretty basic but extremely clean and more than adequate accomodations. Perfect for, to take one example, my new friend Becky who lives most of the year in a yurt in northern Idaho. Check out </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Yurts-Living-Round-Becky-Kemery/dp/1586858912/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1238947056&sr=1-1"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">her book</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">.</span></div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Today is Palm Sunday and the beginning of Semana Santa when most of Guadalajara comes to Rincon de Guayabitos to enjoy the beaches. I for one am headed to Guadalajara with a friend to enjoy five days of quiet. If there's internet I'll blog. Then I can tell you about our sailing trip on a 43 foot catamaran last Sunday, the exhibition at Xaltemba featuring surfboards as art -- all shaped by Cobbo. And -- just got a call from travelling companion. Her meeting this morning has been cancelled! She's going to be ready to go four hours early! Yikes. Adios! Hasta the next time.</div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-53828888737366909662009-04-03T00:05:00.004-06:002009-04-03T01:05:08.017-06:00Coming soon -- Poolside Yoga in Guayabitos!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzl_F-97dO9YHONMCOnq2zx5THxdEMnQl9KYX9fB6w1Xpt6fXk27rCx5W5o2-ziEXMrdjOH54ebpixc4ZfuBqq_fXDUxf_4Fu98HNHpEUkqqUxR4X4z0m7IEz69mFQYJMy0ev2RZHBDPVj/s1600-h/Agneta+at+pool.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 200px; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320344830134613122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzl_F-97dO9YHONMCOnq2zx5THxdEMnQl9KYX9fB6w1Xpt6fXk27rCx5W5o2-ziEXMrdjOH54ebpixc4ZfuBqq_fXDUxf_4Fu98HNHpEUkqqUxR4X4z0m7IEz69mFQYJMy0ev2RZHBDPVj/s200/Agneta+at+pool.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Swaying palms, fishing boats and lots of early morning bird sounds. Ah, yes. And there's also Agneta. Now <em>you </em>can join the early morning yoga stretch sessions for beginners to intermediates that we've been having this season down on our pool deck. We'll have our last time together tomorrow morning before most everyone leaves for the season. But before Agneta heads north, we got it all on tape. The DVD's should be available soon, so look for a link. I'll keep you posted! (And no, that's not me holding the cue cards. I'm taking the picture!)</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-27392862772749212362009-03-25T00:32:00.002-06:002009-03-25T00:49:26.186-06:00More to Mexico than you can imagine<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My mom tells me her friends constantly ask her, "Are Larry and Susan <em>still </em>down there? How about all that violence?" In response, let me share </span><a href="http://chronicle.com/temp/reprint.php?id=3rmyh6phwsny5kvc4cmmn5m9ph88gsdl"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">this link.</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> There is a LOT going on down here that you never hear about in the States. </span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-81327795726075932232009-03-12T10:06:00.005-06:002009-03-12T10:55:03.208-06:00Virgin Territory -- Introduction<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Hooray! Two of my paintings have sold! The Face in the Crowd at Chichicastenango remains on display at Xaltemba, and perhaps may also find a home before the show closes on the 15th of this month. Today is market day, and I'm headed over in a few minutes to check it out.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">In the meantime, I've been writing more on <em>Virgin Territory</em>. I had another reading last week, and those attending were enthusiastic. Also, their feedback was invaluable. I'm coming to appreciate the communal nature of creativity. Raise the rate of circulation and the work itself is invigorated. I've decided to start posting some of the chapters here on the blog. Here's the introduction --</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">In late 2006, my husband and I moved to the Pacific Coast of Mexico just north of Puerto Vallarta, having sold practically everything we owned in the United States. It was a decision made in a moment of either inspiration or sheer madness, but we have had not one regret. Our new home is in a rural area, though visions of a glitzy “Riviera Nayarit” dance in the heads of the governor and local movers and shakers. It hasn’t happened yet. Perhaps with the current economic meltdown, paradise may be safe for a while longer.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">For me, like thousands of other gringos, Mexico these days represents a new beginning. It is definitely “virgin territory” in that sense. But our new beginnings are planted in the dust of ancient civilizations. Vestiges of those who have been here before remain in various forms and practices. Most notable of all is Our Lady of Guadalupe, “Goddess of the Americas.” She is an indigenous icon with origins that stretch back thousands of years, and her presence and influence continue to grow stronger both north and south of Mexico’s borders. Clothed with the sun, heavy with child, she graces more pickup windshields, notebook covers and shopping bags than she does church altars. Though appropriated by the Catholic Church, she transcends any religious denomination. She may very well be the reason women in particular feel nurtured and protected in a country that is so completely “other” from its neighbors to the north. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Christianity, in general, has not dealt well with the Virgin Mary. It’s sort of been “thanks for the baby, lady, now go get lost.” Many Protestants look on her with downright suspicion, like adoptive parents fearful of the claims of a teenaged birth mother. But in Mexico the Virgin, La Madrecita, is honored as no other place on earth. On December 11, pilgrims converge on the second-most visited Catholic site in the world, the Shrine of Guadalupe. The number grows exponentially each year. This past year there were over five million. They come to “watch” with her on the day traditionally celebrated as the anniversary of her appearance to Juan Diego on the hillside of Tepeyac outside of present day Mexico City. Smaller crowds, no less fervent, gather in other parts of the Americas from Anchorage to Tierra del Fuego. Where I live now, it’s celebrated in tiny, makeshift shrines in the dirt streets of La Colonia and La Penita – and it is celebrated exuberantly in Technicolor and surround-sound. Evidently Guadalupe loves fireworks.<br /><br />“We’re looking for Christmas lights,” my Canadian neighbor says, speaking in the clipped, exact tones of her native South Africa. “White ones that don’t flash.” We’ve met in the tianguis, the Thursday market in La Peñita on the American Thanksgiving Day. “Tupperware Alley” is what gringos call the extension of the market which stretches away from the Indian handwork and colorful displays in the main plaza. Here vendors spread the more mundane items that are needed on a daily basis – plastic dishes, clothes pins, pirated DVD’s, patent leather sandals, some of the most formidable padded bras I’ve ever seen, and now, Christmas decorations. There is not a white light to be found. Guadalupe likes color, and preferably color that flashes.<br /><br />Very shortly after we moved to Mexico, both my parents had major health crises. My mother sent my sisters and me notes she’d made for obituaries -- hers and dad’s. My father’s ran on for pages; hers was no more than a paragraph. Mom, who had always been there. Dad, who even when physically present was mentally preoccupied with something other than the child before him. I received the notes when I opened my email the morning after the night I’d spent at a velada for Guadalupe, an all night watch which I’d left at midnight. Scrolling through the pdf attachment written in my mother’s still strong and legible hand, I felt vindicated for our move to Mexico. Here I was in a country that honored La Madre, that told and retold her story, celebrated her appearance each year with hot chocolate and tamales and fireworks at two in the morning. Mothers matter in Mexico, and Guadalupe is the archetype.<br /><br />Not that Guadalupe is the only virgin in Mexico. Oh, no. She appears in many forms and places, a great variety of virgins – the one at Talpa, at Zapopan, as well as others. The dust of Mexico is heavy with stories of how and when she’s graced humanity with her presence. In the New World, it is usually in a field, usually to a peasant farmer, and usually the virgin asks for a shrine to be built so the indigenous population can convert their pagan worship to a more institutional form. Telling other people how they should pray is a time-honored tradition that continues alive and well today.<br /><br />And yet there is a growing tendency to refuse religion in a box, to resist having one’s spiritual content accounted for with the detail of Nutrition Facts on the back of a cereal carton. Perhaps this is why Guadalupe’s influence is growing. More than any other icon, she epitomizes a popular religiosity unconfined to any institution. An unmediated experience of divinity is no longer the privilege of an ordained few or of a specific gender. And Guadalupe isn’t just for Hispanics and Catholics any more. She is a current symbol of an ancient ethos, a touchstone for what is colorful, primitive, and free-flowing.<br /><br />In 1810, Mexico’s Father Hidalgo raised a flag emblazoned with the Virgin of Guadalupe to encourage rebellion of the indigenous classes against the despotism of the ruling Spanish. Guadalupe still symbolizes resistance to “the man.” Her image has been appropriated for better or worse by street gangs in the States and <em>narco-traficantes</em> plying their trade across borders. But she also provides a rallying point for creative rebellion. For anyone at odds with engrained church doctrine and tradition of any denomination, she offers new mental and spiritual landscapes to explore. For the hurt or wounded, the mentally, physically or spiritually abused, she reflects an image that is unbroken, unharmed and intact. And for anyone who longs to claim a unique identity and an intrinsic value above and beyond conventional roles and relationships, the Virgin embodies a <em>one-in-herself-ness</em>, that says “YOU are complete and worthy right now, just the way you are and just because you are.”<br /><br />For anyone who longs to reclaim their own inner virgin, I dedicate these pages.</span><br /></span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-59032164173530142462009-02-25T15:30:00.007-07:002009-02-27T10:22:24.059-07:00Women Who Watch<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">As I promised -- Here are the three paintings I plan on putting in the opening this coming Sunday at </span><a href="http://www.xaltemba.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Xaltemba Restaurant and Gallery.</span></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiI2AfCq_BQuOmWcOemYUMWisyTQyyeJkTydfRa_3GXdCI-19ncD4ddo6EfkEC9qHL6eMWjHXYlwp6KOod1YwOoSLsSBzMVptrbpcqRh9silqHKch9zEXg93XCTK_dTvxHq5k-zEeK9Q0d/s1600-h/women+who+watch+022.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306868581735490370" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiI2AfCq_BQuOmWcOemYUMWisyTQyyeJkTydfRa_3GXdCI-19ncD4ddo6EfkEC9qHL6eMWjHXYlwp6KOod1YwOoSLsSBzMVptrbpcqRh9silqHKch9zEXg93XCTK_dTvxHq5k-zEeK9Q0d/s200/women+who+watch+022.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"The Virgin on the Jetty" -- oil on canvas 11" x 14" (28cm x 36cm)</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJ0bxhuSXUWp75gdpj2M22weDlCUsmAblWENpuGvkojoqHKe7yi5LC2mJgHpw9-mvunu0oRRDV6-r_F8U_7S-Ibv_aZn3MHaQTaMchJPR2Y_2WhH3-tphMFAkqCMS77iXcxiwizQBhY2i/s1600-h/women+who+watch+024.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306868596687259378" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJ0bxhuSXUWp75gdpj2M22weDlCUsmAblWENpuGvkojoqHKe7yi5LC2mJgHpw9-mvunu0oRRDV6-r_F8U_7S-Ibv_aZn3MHaQTaMchJPR2Y_2WhH3-tphMFAkqCMS77iXcxiwizQBhY2i/s200/women+who+watch+024.jpg" border="0" /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">La Veladora -- Keeping Watch -- mixed media 12-1/2" x 15-3/4" (32cm x 40cm)</span></div><div><br /></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRnOYcIdqh1uLOgr15meZMz5PohgBdAmsN-0Kp2wmLNhjSS1dsyUuT4Ei2nqfbtidYTaNWA8thqJ0EsfzKniMwOxXSCeAr_3Z7kMAL7TadUqqyMyfQaHbdTEtltIxFakLHXsgFFHZeDGm/s1600-h/women+who+watch+027.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307347499449173906" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXRnOYcIdqh1uLOgr15meZMz5PohgBdAmsN-0Kp2wmLNhjSS1dsyUuT4Ei2nqfbtidYTaNWA8thqJ0EsfzKniMwOxXSCeAr_3Z7kMAL7TadUqqyMyfQaHbdTEtltIxFakLHXsgFFHZeDGm/s200/women+who+watch+027.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Face in the Crowd at Chichicastenango "14-1/2" x 18-1/2" (37cm x 47cm)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#ff6600;">And here is the accompanying narrative:</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The series “Women Who Watch” evolved from observing those who are present but often unnoticed –<br /><br />The Mayan flower seller, sits hunched on the steps of the church at Chichicastenango, watching the colorful mayhem of market day. Who looks into her face when her flowers are so vibrant, her clothing so arresting?<br /><br />A <em>velador </em>is a night watchman, but <em>veladora </em>is the word for “nightstand,” a piece of furniture that often goes as unnoticed as the prayerful constancy of the woman who waits alone, thinking of child, husband or friends absent from her life. Is she the watcher – or the watched over? The quotation is a Spanish translation from Mary Baker Eddy.<br /><br />The Virgin on the jetty at Guayabitos has her back to the tourists, but engraved beneath her feet is a misspelled assurance of protection for the fishermen and sailors who leave Jaltemba Bay. She is cemented there, assaulted by sea spray and splotched by pelican poop – keeping watch.<br /></div></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-4933379327323895342009-02-24T12:16:00.000-07:002009-02-26T12:30:03.933-07:00Zack and Friends<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJio5EsOBEqXrdvy2zvJwuPW9vJWbcFtuS5LUAYmA6G5QD6rL8hLhzx2B4C3t-ft1wrUzD3EudKdmksPeBObDFN6of2KSJ-PQRhD39X0zwbZaLgedCpTMeqkMKYjsDNzkjlTCmxiMYDIC/s1600-h/dogs+at+Melanie%27s+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307189314852736066" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJio5EsOBEqXrdvy2zvJwuPW9vJWbcFtuS5LUAYmA6G5QD6rL8hLhzx2B4C3t-ft1wrUzD3EudKdmksPeBObDFN6of2KSJ-PQRhD39X0zwbZaLgedCpTMeqkMKYjsDNzkjlTCmxiMYDIC/s200/dogs+at+Melanie%27s+003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I'll answer the question before it's even asked. Cody has a really short haircut right now and is getting special treatment for an itchy condition. So he's not doing spa trips at present. Instead he's getting a bath twice weekly with something that smells antiseptic. But fuzzy furry Zack gets a day out once every three weeks. Couldn't resist taking this photo with him and his friends and putting in a plug for </span><a href="http://www.beachdoginmexico.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">friend Melanie's place in Lo de Marcos</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. It's doggy day camp and they love it. Cody will be back soon with his playmates.</span></div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-66149630261109624792009-02-21T14:47:00.014-07:002009-02-22T13:36:11.128-07:00Travels with Susan -- North, South and Center<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Nu4nrGMGWhyU35IiAnQItqIlW9HX4ARjpJaDfASjsfgdDIq-MkhifF1DEysa-4vr0CAYDQx7mT8dE9v8rfZKij3LbFEg82nR8f5UNtjSif5HseC_nJKbJyLEj7zlCYcRpaetuH15_GhT/s1600-h/Big+time+machine1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305475827302939762" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Nu4nrGMGWhyU35IiAnQItqIlW9HX4ARjpJaDfASjsfgdDIq-MkhifF1DEysa-4vr0CAYDQx7mT8dE9v8rfZKij3LbFEg82nR8f5UNtjSif5HseC_nJKbJyLEj7zlCYcRpaetuH15_GhT/s200/Big+time+machine1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This looks like a great big time machine, doesn't it? I'm not sure what it's called, but it shares part of the plaza in front of the Shrine of Guadalupe. It depicts all sorts of ways to keep track of time. I'm putting it here as an acknowledgement that I have indeed let time get away from me. But I'm ready to remedy that right about . . . now:</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I started traveling after Christmas, mostly short trips like up to San Sebastian and Mascota in the mountains back of Puerto Vallarta, into PV itself for a few days at a friend's time share (ah, the good life!), up to the Four Seasons at Punta Mita to visit friends staying there (ah, the <em>very </em>good life!), and another trip to Tepic to introduce more friends to that great vegetarian restaurant, Quetzalcoatl. </span><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There was also a recent trip north to Lubbock to check in with my Mom and Dad. That was a five day trip going and coming, as I drove to Phoenix with a friend and did Lubbock as an airplane side trip. Won’t be doing THAT too often! But Ann and I had no trouble at all with our trip through “tierra caliente,” which is what the Mexicans call the Sinaloa corridor along the Pacific Coast from Mazatlán to Nogales that's been in the news so much lately. There were lots of checkpoints and the occasional Mercedes or Suburban with dark windows and no license tags whizzing by. And there was that hotel in Los Mochis with a machine-gun-toting uniformed guard on every balcony. No I <em>don’t </em>know who they were or what was going on, but we decided to find some place else to stay. Nobody bothered with two middle-aged white ladies in a Toyota RAV4. We’d bought some apples for the trip and kept lying to the agricultural inspection guys about not carrying fruit or vegetables. After about the third time I didn’t even break a sweat. We might be ready for some big time smuggling sometime in the future, but don’t bet on it.</span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /><br /></p><p>I spent several days in Mexico City right after the first of the year. My time there was jampacked, thanks to my friend Jorge, his family and friends.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxL0pdeIhNZs6Jx0u8u52g_7NXHFkl60D2DosnBTN2GI3m5VntwgAmhgTu75yXksfcRrdSHq1ekrdDq2chI5Rx_x2X2JDF-BaWi5n30x-px4MN64H1Qz8z1aCVP3Ws-uegyNLk9pbxgBcM/s1600-h/Susan,+George,+Armida,+Jorge.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305477842650474210" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxL0pdeIhNZs6Jx0u8u52g_7NXHFkl60D2DosnBTN2GI3m5VntwgAmhgTu75yXksfcRrdSHq1ekrdDq2chI5Rx_x2X2JDF-BaWi5n30x-px4MN64H1Qz8z1aCVP3Ws-uegyNLk9pbxgBcM/s200/Susan,+George,+Armida,+Jorge.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p>Jorge and his wife Irma are friends of mine from San Francisco. Irma was back home, but Jorge was in town visiting some of his five brothers and five sisters. Sounds like my mom's family! </p><p>My first evening in town, his brother Wilfrido joined us and accompanied us to the northern part of the city to introduce us to Wilfrido's friend, Horacio, an expert on the history of the Virgin of Guadalupe.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOP7rU9IWoNbP1Y8zDAkiM8AXgH-M67aoy0WUpTLfNUUauHn4paiSfFgWSSEnAEvp3iro6Ywi1042CyK9w1xGBfNFOAUmvmwf95bAWYX-DyOLor6MHLH4sySiDPLnvHkLeYBeacpXNdiba/s1600-h/Horacio+Senties.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305481104346243346" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOP7rU9IWoNbP1Y8zDAkiM8AXgH-M67aoy0WUpTLfNUUauHn4paiSfFgWSSEnAEvp3iro6Ywi1042CyK9w1xGBfNFOAUmvmwf95bAWYX-DyOLor6MHLH4sySiDPLnvHkLeYBeacpXNdiba/s200/Horacio+Senties.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p>Horacio's office, tucked back into a rabbit warren of rooms filled with relics and treasures, is stuffed to the rafters with memorabilia from his studies and writing.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCtrRPjLBvuYbms6l3KnRDj3X9jxorNLnAS0vTWnb4ytlaVMCjctjuWIo7wLPclcQfC4G6QjkOGm4aPZt-MkYGmArMhitcUhOldS9X-vr2BykQVnqDHMv6_Z2JtyD5PYA18p2gMdNgrq3/s1600-h/Horacio,+Jorge+y+Wilfrido+in+office.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305481117681560850" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCtrRPjLBvuYbms6l3KnRDj3X9jxorNLnAS0vTWnb4ytlaVMCjctjuWIo7wLPclcQfC4G6QjkOGm4aPZt-MkYGmArMhitcUhOldS9X-vr2BykQVnqDHMv6_Z2JtyD5PYA18p2gMdNgrq3/s200/Horacio,+Jorge+y+Wilfrido+in+office.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrMc__8aJBcMQ_0pEVjI7esPLEPBylMTwMuqHV30meRMVllCNCih_KzrzTvypc4Lzhn2G-IWP3LFyc8RLaoPFaO7KGszXJhjiPrbFLXzEqjv6s19zF45T8mck60lk9ATHjBt74kj6xY_9/s1600-h/Horacio's+Shiva.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305485733223389058" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrMc__8aJBcMQ_0pEVjI7esPLEPBylMTwMuqHV30meRMVllCNCih_KzrzTvypc4Lzhn2G-IWP3LFyc8RLaoPFaO7KGszXJhjiPrbFLXzEqjv6s19zF45T8mck60lk9ATHjBt74kj6xY_9/s200/Horacio's+Shiva.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIciG6GU3-grtwyD0aGM2-aZzKUO2ZS44dqJ0eENI8YFTfcdOCuvj8p0uRjCdPtz9p6ff2SHoa1Zm6bwGuXUmPMwq728v-lN1WNRlwSL5g-zTEy3i1qCPj6c7qwFoMRTEcrnb6O75wRnwo/s1600-h/Horacio's+Buddha.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305485730599843842" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIciG6GU3-grtwyD0aGM2-aZzKUO2ZS44dqJ0eENI8YFTfcdOCuvj8p0uRjCdPtz9p6ff2SHoa1Zm6bwGuXUmPMwq728v-lN1WNRlwSL5g-zTEy3i1qCPj6c7qwFoMRTEcrnb6O75wRnwo/s200/Horacio's+Buddha.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p>He is not only an expert on Guadalupe, but on popular religiosity and traditions throughout the world. Horacio has written three books about the legend of Guadalupe, its origins and its significance. He received a gold medal and citation from the Pope for his work separating fact from fiction about the history of Juan Diego and his encounter on the hill of Tepeyac. OK, so the fiction prevails in popular thought. I'll tell you more in <em>Virgin Territory</em>. I AM still working on my book. </p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjKrC2cJXyrX5XcXvc175AqUupNp7D5YpAwplBbhL5gVZHZcCptUuy9nTOvTETNeDsT7zAsG6rLRXxHSLiDKsGMS5VbUt_wrPTeh4sN4iXXgQaaT_mGUBQbgBwp02mbDZ8kBX-iWvZPRU/s1600-h/Susan+y+Horacio.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305481124889426706" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjKrC2cJXyrX5XcXvc175AqUupNp7D5YpAwplBbhL5gVZHZcCptUuy9nTOvTETNeDsT7zAsG6rLRXxHSLiDKsGMS5VbUt_wrPTeh4sN4iXXgQaaT_mGUBQbgBwp02mbDZ8kBX-iWvZPRU/s200/Susan+y+Horacio.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p>Horacio, was very generous with his time, and it was the wee small hours of the morning when we arrived at Armida's house far to the south of the city. Happily there isn't as much traffic in the federal district at one in the morning! </p><p><br />The next day I explored the Dolores Olmedo Museum with Pimplo, another friend of Jorge's family. It is near <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Xochimilco">Xochimilco</a>, only a short distance from where I was staying. </p><p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzk0z9S-uiSdSoZODcVPdiyrmCZw5KMS3g8b__gXbxLRxxEsFTDMaq4_BX0MegG6szfspAe9i0b_LSPrngTEg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>A haven, an oasis, a paradise -- I don't know how to describe this 400 year old hacienda and former home of one of Diego Rivera's last lovers. She was more than his lover. She was his patron who collected his work and then converted her home to a museum to house it and some of the work of two other women in his life, Angelina Belhoff and Frida Kahlo. There are also temporary exhibits featuring current artists, and an extensive exhibit of Mexican popular and folk art. One visit is practically the equivalent of a semester at an art institute.</p><p>So, fired up and inspired, on my last full day Jorge and I <em>painted,</em> I with borrowed canvas, brushes, and acrylic paint. Painting seems to be the primary Perez family passtime. <em>Another </em>family friend who I never knew by any name other than "maestro," maintains a workshop/studio, which is filled mainly with work from Jorge and his sisters. </p>Armida collected us late in the afternoon, and the three of us headed north of the city once more, this time to visit Guadalupe’s basilica. I wanted to see the new one, as one whole chapter of <em>Virgin Territory</em> consists of my visiting the old one back in 1957 when I was eight years old. I figured there might have been a few changes. There were. Lots more scaffolding in and around the old shrine. But the new yurt-shaped basilica was worth the visit, and like I say, more about that in the book.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8D1_YI8Ooy53ubkwFnRch49Zz4dudmn6AdBbJYBqQJEEXj8DwSus3QvPdl_9IolCnqryoK2hnvozP71Oq7_QC341MxVbMtL8wDXbrZOaNuIQSUwUkdbo-xeyuOMpyK3yuNZUvGIGqIu6/s1600-h/susan+at+shrine.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305494337573735170" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb8D1_YI8Ooy53ubkwFnRch49Zz4dudmn6AdBbJYBqQJEEXj8DwSus3QvPdl_9IolCnqryoK2hnvozP71Oq7_QC341MxVbMtL8wDXbrZOaNuIQSUwUkdbo-xeyuOMpyK3yuNZUvGIGqIu6/s200/susan+at+shrine.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCW2NRSOrOfcE8ghAKxxnuQw8Ts5X-mvEpkFE2HSilV7iiJp_eeyLJSjty9D2Ow-S3FewK7jOhRCi_idbpC49eD-EcD1mDOD-Lw36iIg2zk_Ke1zlFv57-UntX7hDVb_fic-xH0G8Ljc6/s1600-h/tower.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305494347613827906" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYCW2NRSOrOfcE8ghAKxxnuQw8Ts5X-mvEpkFE2HSilV7iiJp_eeyLJSjty9D2Ow-S3FewK7jOhRCi_idbpC49eD-EcD1mDOD-Lw36iIg2zk_Ke1zlFv57-UntX7hDVb_fic-xH0G8Ljc6/s200/tower.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Traversing the city southward once more, Jorge wanted one last visit to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plaza_de_la_Constituci%C3%B3n">the Zócalo, </a>the main plaza of the Federal District.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzPIxfxJiYePfxnnt03Yg6qAqbrTkSUKM-bSsluBslLo1Z7eHIcI45ObvyeG-Ec7p1DQguc7S4w41zO7RNA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />It was magic, the last hurrah of the holiday season before all the decorations come down and the lights go out. A good place to spend my last evening in the heart of Mexico.</span><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></p>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-61701194888692529712008-12-27T11:10:00.013-07:002008-12-27T16:53:36.396-07:00A Pre-Christmas Escape to the Back of Beyond<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">What does a hostess do the day before she’s expecting houseguests from New York and thirty plus people for a dinner buffet? Run away! Run away! That’s what I did, and I’m not sorry one little bit. Tuesday was a day to remember.<br /><br />What had started as Oh Lucy, why don’t you and your family come over, meet Carol and Bernard, and we’ll do a turkey or something, was growing exponentially. Larry was getting a wild gleam in his eyes and I was looking nervously at the number of potatoes I had on hand. We had both collapsed on the couch in the house where Lucy’s folks were hosting a little “drinks party” – that’s what the British call it. They were planning an outing for the next day with </span><a href="http://www.guayabitos.org/guayabitos/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Vicente Peña’s new comfy little tourist bus</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, a visit to an Indian village up in the mountains north of Tepic.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8peNQl0CMKSFK2p-c-k7NzARvNBDtvJHkWPbkjRK6565kvr5t-Wj9-2Mtep3s4YiJfb94bQ5PM-hAO4HV3WpkHelpwVaWlUPZcq2FVmbAvj-MEH566GCShik5Ia8k0NPAftFriZKp6zH/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+015.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284542762076062594" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8peNQl0CMKSFK2p-c-k7NzARvNBDtvJHkWPbkjRK6565kvr5t-Wj9-2Mtep3s4YiJfb94bQ5PM-hAO4HV3WpkHelpwVaWlUPZcq2FVmbAvj-MEH566GCShik5Ia8k0NPAftFriZKp6zH/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+015.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />“Why don’t you come with us?” Auntie Karen asked me, she of the perpetual stand-out-in-a-crowd white hat. No way, I thought, but as the plans progressed I realized this was an excursion I didn’t want to put off any more. "Count me in!" I said.<br /><br />Our route followed Highway 200 northward. I’d been to Tepic when we signed the papers to buy the house. The lawyer’s office was just off what I <em>thought</em> was the main square. I hadn’t been impressed. For good reason.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdYOddfHNx3zNeq64Jj7-apP53EIE7_dmC28QXFRE_Y8eT04oI4KxevMn_x3AZAneEunRmiyrw2cLlIvwYmG9Q_ndrRU68qHdBcJ6fSXKk7QSpHeXrlFDXC9xdosn5rRper_VGxR2hfDC/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+020.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284548732276473842" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdYOddfHNx3zNeq64Jj7-apP53EIE7_dmC28QXFRE_Y8eT04oI4KxevMn_x3AZAneEunRmiyrw2cLlIvwYmG9Q_ndrRU68qHdBcJ6fSXKk7QSpHeXrlFDXC9xdosn5rRper_VGxR2hfDC/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+020.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">That <em>wasn’t </em>the main square. THIS is the main square. We stopped and looked all around.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXGaKb5u-Jo41oNHII_JlDnHryg6KdUkDWoyTyTtk614EWyVlLZN6Yyo978oP-FypiGlpklrXUjvPq6kY7NtrrtdFmNOdB6XVsYjUaR4BTzcH_h2hh_G5z6M0dTKijyTz3HqRenmIL-qY/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284538367446695666" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLXGaKb5u-Jo41oNHII_JlDnHryg6KdUkDWoyTyTtk614EWyVlLZN6Yyo978oP-FypiGlpklrXUjvPq6kY7NtrrtdFmNOdB6XVsYjUaR4BTzcH_h2hh_G5z6M0dTKijyTz3HqRenmIL-qY/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+007.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It has a beautiful cathedral</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUKLUNzx09qX9auNdC7IcimTN-v90prB1FCbgYXGhi8eHws7YYUyHHY9PP9LVN04eFGcLhisggjocAzOF_c0M0f4GAPFWqPbKqfqgY9sqXV8vLVwdC3WOB1ImvYcOZ2qtTb45MsUX4Fp4/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284542728311590626" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUKLUNzx09qX9auNdC7IcimTN-v90prB1FCbgYXGhi8eHws7YYUyHHY9PP9LVN04eFGcLhisggjocAzOF_c0M0f4GAPFWqPbKqfqgY9sqXV8vLVwdC3WOB1ImvYcOZ2qtTb45MsUX4Fp4/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+009.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">with an impressive mural on the ceiling above the main entrance.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF6fIReC4kmO_gsOoOXrPHwAQQ8GN2If5RuuNucgyzH9Vh3lpDhEGCiH6MjEUJ5EsyZEoxIzPBO9ijN7fT2YRd0tOniS3akFoCBO4k2pMtCgavLSkl5aWYy4xDOtroxhNvVm7LCsnai5VL/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284542747463593954" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF6fIReC4kmO_gsOoOXrPHwAQQ8GN2If5RuuNucgyzH9Vh3lpDhEGCiH6MjEUJ5EsyZEoxIzPBO9ijN7fT2YRd0tOniS3akFoCBO4k2pMtCgavLSkl5aWYy4xDOtroxhNvVm7LCsnai5VL/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+011.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">The inside is lovely.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTYbXis1jlQNBW1wfh-qYrlFkIRd-ecyXz-TXB_1vneCd9CyUWxHQmZXpQw0IM0R3yd1ELMn9SAJsn2ecWoy6NaE2m0yjF0fU1UHxSlOzZ1300Ye8-N8ASlceQb-YFRbxFncUIcV1_1962/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284542737053278914" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTYbXis1jlQNBW1wfh-qYrlFkIRd-ecyXz-TXB_1vneCd9CyUWxHQmZXpQw0IM0R3yd1ELMn9SAJsn2ecWoy6NaE2m0yjF0fU1UHxSlOzZ1300Ye8-N8ASlceQb-YFRbxFncUIcV1_1962/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+010.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">and there are banners hanging beside the front entrance.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Across the street there are fountains, trees, </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcNI6ovcAKsj3SxlgNYryPTQn2yMfRjZahLmZ5cglGaatoB0HMlwt2rt_QcilGWU5rMR3zf2rkhiEi_2zU467jmvEYTOz_uaAsXSzPheRE5TDXEv8r-eTbjK5rN9zMdrqy6gVaZnwvufA/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284538360714464258" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcNI6ovcAKsj3SxlgNYryPTQn2yMfRjZahLmZ5cglGaatoB0HMlwt2rt_QcilGWU5rMR3zf2rkhiEi_2zU467jmvEYTOz_uaAsXSzPheRE5TDXEv8r-eTbjK5rN9zMdrqy6gVaZnwvufA/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+006.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and a huge Christmas tree courtesy of the Coca-Cola company.<br />Further along in the main plaza there is also an artisans’ market, classy shops, and the food market</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhttKz87nlolW0m35wr1XiTGMR24p4uXq-B7SBPMJ7toHqfMLeZrkpNckOOOK2jl6Qz86Ds70vxkR_VjdLKVOYC_CJdccZhZmAOT0iAuiWjS8ptqzxd4v69ryyCboXvAiJ5atNlwIgk8G-H/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+024.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284548743025503346" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhttKz87nlolW0m35wr1XiTGMR24p4uXq-B7SBPMJ7toHqfMLeZrkpNckOOOK2jl6Qz86Ds70vxkR_VjdLKVOYC_CJdccZhZmAOT0iAuiWjS8ptqzxd4v69ryyCboXvAiJ5atNlwIgk8G-H/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+024.jpg" border="0" /></a> </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">where you can buy menudo and pigs trotters,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-AQGtGVdWVPNUHn0hCOsuw_yswvE7oiD8eSYBIcwn0_GRrCeYs1hLKfXgdLjqYR69v3W3B3OrPT8C1P0iGigK7pV_yDZxLpw_crhvPmMl_FziUcglLm7MmjEKFGUc7Bw0lQcFc3PTaAU/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+025.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284548750628236738" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-AQGtGVdWVPNUHn0hCOsuw_yswvE7oiD8eSYBIcwn0_GRrCeYs1hLKfXgdLjqYR69v3W3B3OrPT8C1P0iGigK7pV_yDZxLpw_crhvPmMl_FziUcglLm7MmjEKFGUc7Bw0lQcFc3PTaAU/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+025.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">quail eggs, rattlesnake skins,</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0JhPq1jwOXFXOfoLb1-GcC_EmtdheY6vkrwVgWVKRY2NN0W6QDmw_cHebiO7iGEz8CqWNr30Ro-aW-d-lAs2iCaLtqbh5o8HVqK5o3LAvtRuqOOmEYcRw2ifR6E3i46pCd6LFBVl4_eM/s1600-h/chewing+gum+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284562450837175090" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd0JhPq1jwOXFXOfoLb1-GcC_EmtdheY6vkrwVgWVKRY2NN0W6QDmw_cHebiO7iGEz8CqWNr30Ro-aW-d-lAs2iCaLtqbh5o8HVqK5o3LAvtRuqOOmEYcRw2ifR6E3i46pCd6LFBVl4_eM/s200/chewing+gum+005.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">and chewing gum shaped like little shoes. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglsAMztavPm8M4xfAu4LB9eAmXFTxGv7OJgCyfWktTVgCTbwwwLgMnpKcgdJvNpZOT-9YKWTr1UebFrTQyY0F0hY-CymBBu5f0j99N0V3MckpOMYZUdqvJZdn5XWXzhUrE9z2psN6pExti/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+030.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284538365144115426" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglsAMztavPm8M4xfAu4LB9eAmXFTxGv7OJgCyfWktTVgCTbwwwLgMnpKcgdJvNpZOT-9YKWTr1UebFrTQyY0F0hY-CymBBu5f0j99N0V3MckpOMYZUdqvJZdn5XWXzhUrE9z2psN6pExti/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+030.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There were also <em>mandarinas </em>– fat and juicy tangerines that smell like Christmas trees if you close your eyes while you peel them.<br /><br />Tepic is a city of some 450,000 people, and is the capital of the State of Nayarit. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It’s most famous citizen is the poet Amado Nervo (1870 – 1919).</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8rdWegdCaCIMzNOzQuM6Wft9wEq5KG70a3pBH-s0OFGeirozyn3-bC-C-tc11al2oGdLkme0HRt9tf30s5bbUi1Y89lxzkXFnqvDhVUeEOcP6MwNup7qaIbnM9ULPUyOEXNmKPWMaCyc/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+038.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284548754997807426" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8rdWegdCaCIMzNOzQuM6Wft9wEq5KG70a3pBH-s0OFGeirozyn3-bC-C-tc11al2oGdLkme0HRt9tf30s5bbUi1Y89lxzkXFnqvDhVUeEOcP6MwNup7qaIbnM9ULPUyOEXNmKPWMaCyc/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+038.jpg" border="0" /></a> </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">His massive portrait presides over people waiting in line at the Capital building. It would be fitting if they’re getting marriage certificates because Nervo’s poems are romantic, moody, and full of sensual images about first kisses, first loves, first touches, first glances. He was a diplomat, representing Mexico in Madrid, Buenos Aires, and Montevideo.<br /><br />We worked up a good appetite visiting the square, and headed happily for Maria’s brother’s restaurant – Quetzalcoatl, one of the first if not <em>the</em> first vegetarian restaurant in the city. It has been going strong for over twenty five years. Maria and Juan have the closer-to-us restaurant </span><a href="http://awayfromsafeharbor.blogspot.com/2007/02/corner-of-heaven.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Rincón del Cielo up at Punta Raza</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. Good cooking runs in the family genes. Even strapping Sam, Lucy’s brother, chowed down eagerly on the buffet. We spent much more time than Vicente had allotted for lunch, as everyone kept going back and trying something else wonderfully tasty.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJsctRTgTBeMvI2yQ9y9SfZ99GGG-6qzzZdiJk_31gPVqSZJG5PSHa0BxiD76LJpIUzPUX5ru-wwRKC-ODMEyFozO1sa2DucFu49PVELnmZat-_YEyBNOIHCiv-1UKfq5Ry2t3TsUsumZ6/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+014.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284542751171487714" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJsctRTgTBeMvI2yQ9y9SfZ99GGG-6qzzZdiJk_31gPVqSZJG5PSHa0BxiD76LJpIUzPUX5ru-wwRKC-ODMEyFozO1sa2DucFu49PVELnmZat-_YEyBNOIHCiv-1UKfq5Ry2t3TsUsumZ6/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+014.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We went through several pitchers of green juice – a mixture of pineapple and parsley.<br /><br />We had another hour and a half drive before we reached the large dam that holds back Lago de Agua Milpa. The lake isn’t huge, but it holds three times the amount of water as Lake Chapala, Mexico’s largest lake in area. Agua Milpa is deep, with an average depth of 200 meters. That’s well over 600 feet! It’s even deeper these days, as there was so much rain this past year.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ9thG6ppZFJqwV5HbUfdkcIS-TugnaDOOvgdPZhwZsy5wCXgRkZkVgI_DY8Cpgrn-4vTiME116ZN8cyhAif9BjjvM4PJHGkPXrBGpx_NfqN0ILjRBFZKBtcjRym5pSt5rJl5qgw61dlWc/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+047.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284548760948640498" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ9thG6ppZFJqwV5HbUfdkcIS-TugnaDOOvgdPZhwZsy5wCXgRkZkVgI_DY8Cpgrn-4vTiME116ZN8cyhAif9BjjvM4PJHGkPXrBGpx_NfqN0ILjRBFZKBtcjRym5pSt5rJl5qgw61dlWc/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+047.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Those wooden frames out in the water show where last year's embarcadero was, now under water. For the first time in the twenty year life of the dam, last summer authorities had to release water into the valley below to keep the lake from overflowing. The resulting wall of water was ten meters high and cut right through a small mountain in its way. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyu553fuesXuXiuW2Cy4vKYU_8km-vI_Bw7Ro0r2D14UpZIEEW8ZGgO7AsRTEPEO1hbChzFd3cYhN5sIJmAyn4MZgo4a7CWmeC00sQ6hMu9-XgFFSk0r-6g0oxeGPT1lHtmhIcGawXHWdg/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+053.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284562457127302722" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyu553fuesXuXiuW2Cy4vKYU_8km-vI_Bw7Ro0r2D14UpZIEEW8ZGgO7AsRTEPEO1hbChzFd3cYhN5sIJmAyn4MZgo4a7CWmeC00sQ6hMu9-XgFFSk0r-6g0oxeGPT1lHtmhIcGawXHWdg/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+053.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Our intrepid group set out in a minuscule boat for a twenty minute ride across the deep, intent on seeing Indians where they lived, rather than in the square on market day in La Peñita.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuT2yteGAPG1__re8a3I_m9ueSyNA61ECywCsP4wGkGZz-TyNTwIRUTwzMSdGeDjl93RTPA0oaDw9GQfjupxR6GB5PMi6cgMYZzbUMFdzLFen1V-EGfbQdSXKVqgLyXyDT6ub-8vNMDPM/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+056.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284562467405322786" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuT2yteGAPG1__re8a3I_m9ueSyNA61ECywCsP4wGkGZz-TyNTwIRUTwzMSdGeDjl93RTPA0oaDw9GQfjupxR6GB5PMi6cgMYZzbUMFdzLFen1V-EGfbQdSXKVqgLyXyDT6ub-8vNMDPM/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+056.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The village of Potrero de La Palmita lies on the shore of the lake where the Rio Grande Santiago (Mexico’s longest river) meets the Rio Huaynamota. There have evidently been a lot of changes in the last few years.<br /><br />Potrero de La Palmita is not a Huichol village, but primarily Kora, and they are much more social. Evidence of this is that they have opened a guest house for those seeking “alternative tourism.” That’s when you really want to get away. They do NOT have a website, but I picked up a brochure.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzfcz9cAOD3opAeSaaq9BHZJRTD-KgVsmQ4EKwwB1lHHa9mDxoq2rgLMmZQLGjd2N62Py__AFlnDxh3Halb0TcD9_PvgAyEDuxoG4ytks7iOXMdWHAFzszPkKk3cwAE43uk-ZmxL_bdiH/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+057.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284562478942824194" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivzfcz9cAOD3opAeSaaq9BHZJRTD-KgVsmQ4EKwwB1lHHa9mDxoq2rgLMmZQLGjd2N62Py__AFlnDxh3Halb0TcD9_PvgAyEDuxoG4ytks7iOXMdWHAFzszPkKk3cwAE43uk-ZmxL_bdiH/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+057.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">You reach the guest house by following a newly constructed rock ramp up from the shore.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEItpP7XqzG8761RakNXL_isNxn4yzLt5PrKlAyyBzvhbl3I-6BaeIweNbb8BhKdCi4g_1O_kFUbgSp5qQlOasS_pmFVWY6Ov4H6NUsifHKvkBaQ3y3mTS9AQ8DJcqcFblyIhGIWX4DVKp/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+092.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284579025102963458" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEItpP7XqzG8761RakNXL_isNxn4yzLt5PrKlAyyBzvhbl3I-6BaeIweNbb8BhKdCi4g_1O_kFUbgSp5qQlOasS_pmFVWY6Ov4H6NUsifHKvkBaQ3y3mTS9AQ8DJcqcFblyIhGIWX4DVKp/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+092.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aHXZT52mX_NpIcrrX5N1aCfalAq5D-Hws3OrJbvd0vYeEIdpN8qbDY83yysro1izAZJ9NLr7HpaBG4jFMB7m7BGM_qV8WsdJWLvrIMLrGcIpJ-NIVaxVbjNFNKYicoCHBr5-572KXp7N/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+091.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284579018649957282" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aHXZT52mX_NpIcrrX5N1aCfalAq5D-Hws3OrJbvd0vYeEIdpN8qbDY83yysro1izAZJ9NLr7HpaBG4jFMB7m7BGM_qV8WsdJWLvrIMLrGcIpJ-NIVaxVbjNFNKYicoCHBr5-572KXp7N/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+091.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3NogfeyXa8O1nfT3nS3Hooov-ltde4sCf2Y191jPORYXdrtFlXvJ1esFCa8ourf4paC6GefPIqPaOj0kb-JtBI3usjgtj-Dr7VKVoDejOga05KPWeRucTWEvU-vVNVZrhFpXXAsg5ln4/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+093.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284579032334754034" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic3NogfeyXa8O1nfT3nS3Hooov-ltde4sCf2Y191jPORYXdrtFlXvJ1esFCa8ourf4paC6GefPIqPaOj0kb-JtBI3usjgtj-Dr7VKVoDejOga05KPWeRucTWEvU-vVNVZrhFpXXAsg5ln4/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+093.jpg" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The accomodations are stark, but the view is amazing. And the Kleenex box they provide is a work of art! <div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRkdBoUAxUAi0BbENb8Q3evIDz0WSTJakBP4h-zs2khEgYkgTuORjyFjLhUmUOSanltn1csO-VovtjfVOwXJSIxAbdjt-EYOwpE3uu9FnCKLj1qYseeA4pjOd1bFlFbH-_OiQcSrwhGV3/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+058.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284562488913287394" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRkdBoUAxUAi0BbENb8Q3evIDz0WSTJakBP4h-zs2khEgYkgTuORjyFjLhUmUOSanltn1csO-VovtjfVOwXJSIxAbdjt-EYOwpE3uu9FnCKLj1qYseeA4pjOd1bFlFbH-_OiQcSrwhGV3/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+058.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO2ywy3KjemY1FB_7K0wA8UdBDPDvBmST8_rKh_hxZnaUpapYRv7FnO-FbJ8Wvy70RJzbdmHqUqf78tR3aQ9DY4sjhZpAwytGiwEcgl3yd-jC8rcrMXCpM3aH9hRrJg3-2Q4hwZjLJKTq/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+068.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284574800181582562" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO2ywy3KjemY1FB_7K0wA8UdBDPDvBmST8_rKh_hxZnaUpapYRv7FnO-FbJ8Wvy70RJzbdmHqUqf78tR3aQ9DY4sjhZpAwytGiwEcgl3yd-jC8rcrMXCpM3aH9hRrJg3-2Q4hwZjLJKTq/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+068.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />On past the guest house, it is another short hike to the village. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7jIrGX5pAvJ9u1gDg_hTypkhyyhiiBFZz6_Hg1keRP8k9EHrKz5lt9oWrCQ5Gn-Q9qkuWyUPCi-jCqdooGJRJZWJa-YeyDnTkGk_EKiAvBRuTTZjVaCEFJLs7vcj09_b13HZTdwzjyhR/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+059.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284585199629913154" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7jIrGX5pAvJ9u1gDg_hTypkhyyhiiBFZz6_Hg1keRP8k9EHrKz5lt9oWrCQ5Gn-Q9qkuWyUPCi-jCqdooGJRJZWJa-YeyDnTkGk_EKiAvBRuTTZjVaCEFJLs7vcj09_b13HZTdwzjyhR/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+059.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">There is a new health center.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Ea4IwQuBEevoBkdXqbJNPBF61cm9QFyE8gwnEQvtsPAKqf_idseBS907xYAC4AhSCWAnaPB6NwdDHC3pTfeWbAAZ76ceccA-NUkS2ysL-ZbOCngREOKVFPqxTIt8gTc0ikZUJI7EboIU/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+065.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284574798006495714" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Ea4IwQuBEevoBkdXqbJNPBF61cm9QFyE8gwnEQvtsPAKqf_idseBS907xYAC4AhSCWAnaPB6NwdDHC3pTfeWbAAZ76ceccA-NUkS2ysL-ZbOCngREOKVFPqxTIt8gTc0ikZUJI7EboIU/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+065.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">An ancient generator that was only used in emergencies has been replaced by strategically placed solar panels. Here is a small one just outside one of the typical houses. </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5ddo6Rkak94BOZGllRWGnR7GdYi8EmseFas3zfAqCVDInUN5dk7R8t4yu3mPGY7HEiLhvdRWyL7zzRwo7iNRr3dm8ya9oODw1CpgLgaiHTQ09TTl47DqCNAqmYF052qZYj_8FdkjtZEr/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+062.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284574787760617298" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5ddo6Rkak94BOZGllRWGnR7GdYi8EmseFas3zfAqCVDInUN5dk7R8t4yu3mPGY7HEiLhvdRWyL7zzRwo7iNRr3dm8ya9oODw1CpgLgaiHTQ09TTl47DqCNAqmYF052qZYj_8FdkjtZEr/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+062.jpg" border="0" /></a></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Most of the houses are built up on stilts to protect the occupants from snakes and scorpions.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BZNPXDkkL5OGQmk1NO-zqFYmDFN9O7D8UdDbmPdyZOwh_e01KW0mXZaO-AeGjmUODkRF6MOBKktdAu1OIkppICFCBj27qJUy1bLSmOl_Y5depWvqpPzp_O32BpAb_-o4ykbiig-ZQ9c9/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+072.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284574813317698146" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9BZNPXDkkL5OGQmk1NO-zqFYmDFN9O7D8UdDbmPdyZOwh_e01KW0mXZaO-AeGjmUODkRF6MOBKktdAu1OIkppICFCBj27qJUy1bLSmOl_Y5depWvqpPzp_O32BpAb_-o4ykbiig-ZQ9c9/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+072.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The word went out that we were there, and the women of the village gathered at the market center to display their handiwork, mostly weaving and beadwork. We had come intent on buying, and were careful that every woman sold something to our group.</span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFVl3t9rvsE97CkgvjsHU-yWois9N2hK6kP5y2qaX2r3flwcuXFE5SEHZ18EL938woWckc8UJHoi0sSoN4sI8PldhO8ddUE6dP8GvnASNlbDZy6fou5CF0HlELc7VAnGoHFa541sodSY4/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+074.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284574825051328434" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdFVl3t9rvsE97CkgvjsHU-yWois9N2hK6kP5y2qaX2r3flwcuXFE5SEHZ18EL938woWckc8UJHoi0sSoN4sI8PldhO8ddUE6dP8GvnASNlbDZy6fou5CF0HlELc7VAnGoHFa541sodSY4/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+074.jpg" border="0" /></a> </span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I made the major purchase of the day – a beaded image created by Teresa, shown here with one of her children. It took her three months to complete this image, made with the tiniest of little glass beads. I paid her asking price of 800 pesos, and watched the excitement of her children and other villagers. Vicente told me this was a major cash infusion to an economy that really needs it. Tour operators from Puerto Vallarta have quit sending trips up this far, as it is such a long trip. The guest house business has not kicked in as yet either. He assured me that spending money with the women is what makes a real difference for good in the village, as every centavo will go for the benefit of feeding and clothing the children. And Penelope, this is where the three boxes of clothing you sent to me in Lubbock and we carried down with us last September ended up. Best to get them out of our basement and onto bodies that need them, and it was fitting to get it down just before Christmas.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDganlCnD7Os1dvCGo4k7DDIMct6fR0kFHKB82sD592Bg6HijF0u5uRWRwIKwjfhO-fa4EdzXX4ybHdHJ_zZ4dMwfPUgP_SqimrOxmIVbrBkX36hD13HEkd5N-1xoQL5yd079LAartc3F/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+095.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284579037393794578" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDganlCnD7Os1dvCGo4k7DDIMct6fR0kFHKB82sD592Bg6HijF0u5uRWRwIKwjfhO-fa4EdzXX4ybHdHJ_zZ4dMwfPUgP_SqimrOxmIVbrBkX36hD13HEkd5N-1xoQL5yd079LAartc3F/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+095.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It was almost dark as we made the return trip back across the lake, the lights of the dam finally coming into view as we rounded a corner. This is where you can see stars and stars and stars. An hour and a half later, closer to Tepic, I reached Larry on a cell phone, warning him not to look for us soon.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZf92FsZ5EzEx9pnaV1OXjIiXO-cYd8tQ51_ZFOu1X03EX3jtee-IStvqYe6O5o8kq7d_7KBv10AQKzhlrRp5kmljTI9Py_5grCR6UBAHZuK0rF2qlxAkhH0Y7FB3WePkl466mnORsPAKL/s1600-h/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+117.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284585206284712562" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZf92FsZ5EzEx9pnaV1OXjIiXO-cYd8tQ51_ZFOu1X03EX3jtee-IStvqYe6O5o8kq7d_7KBv10AQKzhlrRp5kmljTI9Py_5grCR6UBAHZuK0rF2qlxAkhH0Y7FB3WePkl466mnORsPAKL/s200/Tepic+and+Huichol+village+117.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />There was one more stop in Compostela where we had coffee in a second floor shop facing the lit cathedral. It is a very old town, founded in the late 1500’s as the capital of Nueva Galicia, a territory which encompassed basically all of Western Mexico. But the resistance from the native tribes towards the Spanish and their modern ways was so intense that Compostela was essentially abandoned and the government was moved east to Guadalajara. The Huichol and the Kora never were conquered by the Spanish. They never gave up their traditions, their way of doing things. So today, we tourists go to visit them and buy their beadwork. Sort of makes me think twice about holding on to “the way we’ve always done it.”<br /><br />So here’s a new tradition fit for the time and place where we live now: Merry Christmas! – two days late. A</span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">nd PS -- the Christmas Eve party was a great success anyway.</span></div>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-88575212664258153882008-12-20T06:55:00.004-07:002008-12-20T07:34:14.952-07:00Virgin Territory<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Friday a week ago, December 12, was the Festival Day of our Lady of Guadalupe. As part of the celebration, I was asked to read aloud a part of the book I'm writing, <em>Virgin Territory. </em>It's about moving to Mexico and discovering the heart and power of virginity.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The event took place at the <a href="http://www.xaltemba.com/">Xaltemba Restaurant and Gallery</a>. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Juan Gonzales filmed the event for Xaltembatv.com. You can find some of the clips at the following link. </span><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=xaltembatv&search_type=&aq=f"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=xaltembatv&search_type=&aq=</span>f</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The ancient meaning of the Greek word translated <em>virgin </em>in the New Testament, didn't have anything to do with physiology. It didn't mean being chaste or physically untouched. Rather, being a virgin meant belonging to oneself. A virgin was someone who had authority, who was the author of her own experience because she was not defined by any human relationship. She was un-captured, intact, self-complete, whole, self-governed. Virginity was <em>power.</em></span><br /><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></em><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">While the book is the story of my own spiritual journey, I hope it conveys that everyone, man or woman, revolutionary or rebel, has an “inner virgin.” The spontaneity, liberty, autonomy and free expression The Virgin represents has stirred individuals and movements throughout history. Father Hidalgo raised Guadalupe's banner when Mexico declared its independence from Spain, and the Virgin of Czestochowa inspired Lech Walesa's Solidarity Movement. The image and ethos of The Virgin may be just what we need in our own revolutionary times of change and challenge.</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-83991235401237039752008-12-14T20:37:00.005-07:002008-12-14T23:41:37.329-07:00Perigee -- Up Close and Personal<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It's been a full moon weekend. Friday night it was official. The moon was big, full, and closer than it's been for fifteen years. My friend Agneta conducts new moon and full moon ceremonies, and promptly at 5:15 there were six of us gathered on the beach near our house. It was still daylight, but Agneta had lit a fire and was explaining to us that the the previous two weeks (kicked off with a proper new moon ceremony) had been a time for defining our intentions and nourishing them with prayer, and that the full moon was a time for rejoicing and grateful acknowledgement of the good already received and that which was expected to mature during the waning moon. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was a fairly simple ceremony. Everyone had brought something to make noise with -- a drum, rattle, or a piece of wood and a stick -- and there was something cathartic about just making noise when that big orange disk edged up from the horizon. The firmament is so very close here, its depth reflected in the vast ocean as well as stretched across the sky. There's something inside me that yearns to acknowledge its presence, glory in its magnificence, and it's really a treat to do it with unbridled enthusiasm in the company of good friends. Our little crowd grew with the arrival of Lucy and her family, so there were twelve of us that circled the fire and took turns saying what we were grateful for. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Then someone said, "Let's <em>sing </em>something!" And the only song that we Americans, Canadians and Brits could agree on that we all knew was the Coca-Cola advertisement from the 1970's! "I'd like to teach the world to sing, in perfect harmony...." Agggh! What hath globalization wrought??!!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So <em>next </em>time maybe we should try </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_A_ma2h0idk"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">this alternative</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">: "When the night has come, and the land is dark, and the moon is the only light we see..."</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-58801687264233991972008-12-01T18:18:00.002-07:002008-12-01T18:28:05.739-07:00Checking in and catching upOh my. Where to begin? Had to reread the last entry to remember what I’ve said. What was that I said about being happy to once again be “communicado?” <em>Puras papas</em>, as they say down here. Lies, lies, lies. So, catching up:<br /><br />We are still very happy to be down here. The weather has broken and we actually need a comforter in the night. We know when the temperature drops below 80, because Mexicans start wearing hoodies and fleece running suits and go around stomping their feet and rubbing their hands. But even gringo women are starting to carry <em>rebozos </em>or sweaters when they go out in the evening.<br /><br />There are Christmas trees lit up in the windows of houses in La Peñita. <a href="http://www.inside-mexico.com/guadalupe.htm">December 12</a> is the Feast Day of the Virgin of Guadalupe. From that point on through <a href="http://www.inside-mexico.com/ReyesMagos.htm">January 6</a> very little gets done in Mexico. It’s a magic time as far as color, lights, music and action. I’m really looking forward to it. Lucy’s family has rented a house in La Zona for three weeks over Christmas and New Years, and there are twin girls who are having their thirteenth birthday on December 18. I’ve volunteered our house, so they can make a deal of decorating the Christmas tree. We should have another party before they leave so they can also take it down!<br /><br />Lucy, if you remember, is our young British friend. She has returned to Guayabitos and is installed in our guest room. She’s enrolled in a writing program at Oxford, where she has deadlines for poems and essays, but she can write them from any place in the world. She picked here! We keep each other good company, because I’ve been concentrating on the book everyone says I should be writing. Well, I’m writing it…enough said on that for now. Except to tell you the title: <em>Virgin Territory</em>. I’m to read from my “work in progress” at the <a href="http://www.xaltemba.com/">Xaltemba Restaurant and Gallery</a> sometime around December 12, celebrating Guess Who. I doubt I’ll be sitting on the bar in shorts, <a href="http://www.jaltembasol.com/">like this shot of Lucy</a>, who was reading one of her short stories. Works for some…not for me. (scroll down in the most recent edition of <em>Jaltemba Sol</em>.)<br /><br />Larry has been working hard on a construction project in La Peñita which we trust will help recoup some of our finances. (Did I mention that the bulk of our nest egg from the sale of the house in San Clemente was lost in a fraudulent investment deal? Probably not. State of Florida is prosecuting. It will take years. Never mind….onward ) Larry and a partner found an excellent piece of land right in the middle of town -- walking distance to everything – formed a Mexican corporation, and when we got back in September, began construction on a 14-space RV park – one where people can buy the slots rather than rent them. There will be a full time live-on-property caretaker, so residents can leave their motor homes there and not have to haul them back and forth between here and Canada or the States. It’s first class all the way, complete with pretty pool, club house, storage facilities and lots of landscaping. (This was Larry’s background work before he started shaping surfboards). So that is coming to completion and should be ready to sell in the next three to four weeks. There has been a lot of interest, with a number of people coming in and saying "THIS is the slot I want!" Hooray.<br /><br />He’s also been supervising maintenance for the homeowners association here in the Residential Zone. They didn’t paint the curbs white this year, because both the electric company and the sewer company have been tearing up the cobblestone streets and sidewalks laying new lines and pipes. Driving around here has been like navigating a war zone.<br /><br />We have a new “staff” working at the house. Oscar keeps the pool sparkly clean, the patios swept and the plant materials in shape. Rosa has just started. She’s a widow who has never really worked outside her home before, so my friend Agneta and I are training her, as she trades off days between us. She had never seen a dishwasher and was unfamiliar with a lot of the cleaning products I use, but she’s eager to learn and very diligent. There’s a lot of catching up to do, both with her and with the house.<br /><br />There are a few more English invaders in the area. A schoolmate of Lucy’s from her undergraduate days at Oxford married a lovely Mexican guy this past July, and they have opened a restaurant in Chacala, <a href="http://chacala-cafe.blogspot.com/">Café Chac Mool</a>. Check out their blog and video. Millie and Arturo bring movie-star good looks and a touch of culture to that local scene. While Larry watches NASCAR or goes surfing with his friend Colin Sunday mornings, I’ve been going to Chacala with friends, scarfing up phenomenal baked goods, then swimming at the wonderful beaches there. Millie’s parents are a bit non-plussed about what their daughter – who got a First in French and Italian (“or was it French and Philosophy,” wonders Lucy. “I know it’s something terribly highbrow) is doing off in a remote Mexican beach town making sweet rolls and croissants and perfecting her capuccinos. Good question. You just have to be here to understand.<br /><br />Watching <a href="http://xaltemba.tv/">Xaltemba.TV</a> might bring you a little more enlightenment. Our friend Juan Gonzales has created this site to document goings on around here. Check out the categories for Nature, and for Art and Culture in particular.<br /><br />What more??? Ah, yes. YOGA! Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday out by our pool. 7:30 in the morning. Great group of ladies, usually about 3-6 of us. Wonderful way to start the day. Throw in a walk up and down the beach in the morning, and maybe a walk across the footbridge into La Peñita to a little abarrotes store for the spare tomato, stack of tortillas or liter of milk, and I’m getting plenty of exercise. So grateful to be able to do it! So happy to be healthy!<br /><br />Gringos are back and the social calendar is filling up. Also volunteer opportunities and good works…like the plastic recycling program, the spay and neuter clinic, beach clean up campaigns. There’s no lack of things to get involved with The art group is meeting once again, but I’m trying to stay focused on the writing for a while. When Melanie the water color teacher, comes down in the spring, I’ll join back in. She always has a specific project for us to work on, which saves me from having to think about what I want to paint. Give me an assignment! I did a couple of <em><a href="http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catrina">catrina</a></em> watercolors for the Día de Los Muertos opening at Xaltemba, just because Roberto asked. The <a href="http://guayabitosartists.googlepages.com/guayabitosartists">Guayabitos Artists Collective</a> is having an art show and sale on December 14, at Bobbi Attwood’s house. That’s where we the art group meets. (Xaltemba has been so successful that they expanded the restaurant space into the gallery space) I may have something. Yikes! Two weeks??!! (I know this would be a great opportunity to insert photos, but I don’t have any!)<br /><br />We hope your holiday season is joyous and blessed wherever you are. We started it off with Thanksgiving dinner with young friends from San Antonio who were here for a couple of nights. They’re thinking it would be great to move here. We are telling them we wish we’d done it years ago when we took that first long trip together down here in 1973. It’s interesting times, these. I look at people in their twenties who are just starting off and just love them and bless them. What a very different world they’re going to have. Let’s start filling it with prayers. Much love to all!O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-591939859574251302008-10-04T22:44:00.002-06:002008-10-04T23:19:54.066-06:00We've been having a blast!<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Or better said -- we were <strong>blasted</strong>. By lightening. That's why it's been so quiet from this quarter. We just got phone -- and by extension internet and Vonage -- restored this past week. It was out for a solid ten days, and then on again, off again for another three. We <em>trust </em>it's here to stay, at least until the next rainy season. We HOPE the last of the big storms is over!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Two weeks ago from last Thursday we had another of our evening thunderstorms that consistently brought at least three inches of rain each night, and sometimes as many as six. These would roll in from the ocean about eight o'clock, making the TV picture go all pixelly, and filling the neighborhood with ominous rumbly noises. So we would unplug the television and computers, and head for bed, where depending on the severity of the pyrotechnics outside, the dogs would either quiver on the floor or jump up between us and look <em>very concerned. </em>They were in the very concerned mode that particular night with good reason. I've never seen such simultaneous light and noise. We were right in the middle of it. And then KABOOM!!!! The whole house was filled with blinding light and the thunder clap came right at the same time. But the lights on the bedside clocks were still lit, so we hadn't lost electricity. Hooray! It was the next day we found the phones were out. Our first clue was all those dangly frizzled wires lying in the street that we had to step over when we took the dogs out for a walk. There were even a few remnants remaining on the charred telephone pole just outside our living room door. Our neighbor reported that there was now a big black smudge on his wall where his answering machine used to be. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So we've been quiet, waiting for repairs, sticking close to home, always in the hope that <em>someone </em>with a Telmex shirt would show up at the door. They eventually did, and returned, and then returned once more. We've now got new wiring and a lot of other stuff that I won't bore you with all the details. But that's what we've been doing the past couple of weeks. And somehow the world went on without us. Nothing compared to Galveston or New Orleans, so we really have no room to complain. But, all the same, it's nice to be communicado once more. </span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-78364901761536642492008-09-15T06:36:00.002-06:002008-09-15T07:14:52.638-06:00Water World....with fur<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"So, whatcha been doing?" friends ask. And I hesitate to say, 'cause it sounds like whining. Truth is, we've been cleaning up. It seems like it's something we do every fifteen minutes or less. Between <em>constant </em>rain and an enthusiastic, <em>ravenous </em>puppy, there's always a task at hand. If I could locate my camera, I'd give you evidence. Zack is brilliant. . .or determined. He knows where the food is stored, and he's figured out a way to bounce the pantry door open if it's not shut <em>completely.</em> Barring that, if there's a scrap of food left within paw-range, it's scarfed up. Made the mistake of leaving four formerly-frozen graham cracker pie crusts on the kitchen table the other night when we went out. Zack didn't exactly <em>eat </em>the aluminum and plastic, but he shredded them nicely. Every buttery crumb though was cleaned away!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cleaning up after puppies is compounded by the weather. I know that with the devastation reeked by Ike, and before that Hanna and Gustav, what I have to complain about is pretty puny <em>papas. </em>But over here on the Pacific side of the continent, it's been wet, wet, wet, as well. Our sun sightings are few and far between. Keeps things relatively cool, but sodden. <em>Everything </em>grows. The weeds on the lot next door have become trees. The tennis courts have become a swamp. The streets are green carpets studded with shiny black cobblestones. Our neighbor down the street reports the rainfall to us each morning -- one inch, three inches. The other night we had <em>five. </em>It came down for hours and hours. Does anyone know how to toilet train doggies? They look <em>so </em>pathetic out there in the courtyard, legs dutifully hitched up, fur getting all wet and droopy. We have a pile of old beach towels by the front door -- along with piles of sandy, wet shoes. Would almost rather have the rain come in one big deluge, like it did a week ago -- along with sustained winds of about 65 mph. We <em>really </em>need to get a back door.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The limbs on the </span><a href="http://lagringasblogicito.blogspot.com/2007/01/our-first-guayaba.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">guayaba</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> tree next to our house are laden with ripe fruit that's knocked off by the rains each night. Leave them lying on the courtyard bricks even for a day and the fermentation smell is overwhelming. So far I've been successful in sharing the bounty with neighbors and passersby. They are a real delicacy, rarely sold in markets -- BECAUSE THE SHELF LIFE IS TOO GUAVA-PICKIN' SHORT!!!</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So Larry is poking his head in the door, wondering if I'm going to join him and the furry guys for a morning walk. This is the coolest and dryest part of the day, and I'm outta here to take advantage. Yours from the sodden south.....</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-89171698714699818622008-09-14T14:08:00.003-06:002008-09-14T14:15:34.327-06:00Sharing a short film<p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">My friend Evan shared this short film on </span><a href="http://gethealed.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-image-do-you-portray.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">his blog</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. It not only gives the flavor of Mexico, but a potent lesson in how we present ourselves, no matter what our situation. It's about five minutes long. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! (I keep watching it).... click </span><a href="http://www.adnstream.tv/video/nilSqaMboM/HISTORIA-DE-UN-LETRERO-THE-STORY-OF-A-SIGN"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">HERE</span></a>!</p><p> </p>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9019735291965346421.post-70413626276046582262008-09-03T22:36:00.005-06:002008-09-04T01:38:50.679-06:00Home again, home again<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jvlGhIoKnRBfiz1tXPty5kUPhOvzuaqQrhQ092xQDP9vi8m1A2dMU2HQWp3NLxClAOBrb0nMxgGzAlWj_B-cAFv2-x5o5M46rjsUVPfRYlMLHXY9K__XkkevkA8hvGu0bW-cI5KelD50/s1600-h/Larry+and+Susan+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242060656558548242" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jvlGhIoKnRBfiz1tXPty5kUPhOvzuaqQrhQ092xQDP9vi8m1A2dMU2HQWp3NLxClAOBrb0nMxgGzAlWj_B-cAFv2-x5o5M46rjsUVPfRYlMLHXY9K__XkkevkA8hvGu0bW-cI5KelD50/s200/Larry+and+Susan+2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Not exactly dancing a jig! That last 1515 miles from Lubbock to Guayabitos seemed to stretch on and on and on. Especially driving about 50 miles an hour. Hooray for a two night layover in a good bed in San Antonio. Thanks, Mark and Susie! And it was great getting a last visit with Larry's family there. Adios, Jim and Rhoda! We're home and happy. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Little to complain about on the trip south. Larry drove the open unairconditioned black Jeep that we picked up out in California (the one he traded his OLD Harley for about a year and a half ago). I followed behind in Hummercita carrying two dogs and dragging an overloaded trailer behind. Inside the trailer was Larry's NEW Harley -- or the one he bought last summer. Object of this trip was to get all his toys in one place, Mexico. Mission accomplished! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">No inspections, no military stops, and only two flats on the trailer. One was coming through Guadalajara, and I was able to pull into a Pemex station with a <em>llantera </em>attached. Not too many of those around! Twenty pesos to fix the flat and we were back on the road. The next flat happened somewhere just outside of Guayabitos. We didn't discover it until we turned into our town. I was passing Larry, thinking he was letting me go ahead of him. But actually the Jeep had quit running. Wet distributor cap. Larry was towed the last mile to our house. And as I write, the trailer sits empty, tilted and with a crumpled fender at the curb in front of our house. I don't know WHAT I hit! But we're home.....sigh.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">It was a summer full of adventure -- making new friends and seeing old ones. I can't begin to thank everyone through this blog. And there were so many people we <em>didn't </em>see this trip. I guess we'll just have to go back! Sometime.... and I think we'll fly.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">For a while we were separated. From June 30 to July 8, Larry took a 3,000 mile motorcycle trip through the Midwest with his old high school buddy, Ken Pierce. From July 10 - July 22, I was in California by myself, mainly travelling around in the mid-section. The rental car I picked up in San Jose and dropped off there a week later said I covered 876 miles. That was catching up with friends and family in Pacific Grove, Danville, Roseville/Sacramento, Truckee, Reno, Santa Rosa, Petaluma, and San Francisco. A lot of them seemed to live WAY off the beaten path. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Turn right at the pigs," was the final step in Dave's instructions on how to find him and his wife Laura outside of Petaluma. It was worth the trip. They fixed lunch -- Chicken Caesar salad, raspberry lemonade, a phenomenal chocolate cake -- and we ate it outside in their garden. The air was heavy with roses and sunshine. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"I'll come meet you," said Pam. Which she did, in St. Helena. After we raided a local grocery store, I followed her up Spring Mountain Road toward Santa Rosa and then somewhere she turned off onto a little asphalt lane. Ten (I counted on the way back down the next day) switchbacks later we came to where she and Gene hang out. Heavy smooth sheets, good smelling soap and absolute silence high in a live oak forest. I slept like a baby. But "remote" doesn't begin to describe it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well, it wasn't as remote as the commitment ceremony Larry attended for Theora and Colin. They live in a tent -- a geodesic dome -- which they've erected on land outside of Alpine, Texas. Theora is our niece, and she made all the arrangements for their celebration down at </span><a href="http://www.chinatihotsprings.com/"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Chinati Hot Springs</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> -- a 1930's style resort two or more hours drive south of Alpine, down near the Rio Grande River. Actually it was <em>built </em>in 1934, so the style is authentic. Larry attended along with our dog Cody and about 35 other guests before he headed out to California to meet me. The four inch layer of mud <em>all over </em>the Hummer spoke volumes as to what "remote" really means. I think he left it on until he got to Orange County as some sort of statement: Ours is not an <em>urban </em>assault vehicle. It really gets used off road!</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Larry and I had a week together in Orange County, spent mainly with his surfing buddies, and our good friends. This is the "old time" beach crowd. Four couples one night celebrated our annual wedding anniversary dinner. It was at </span><a href="http://www.cannonsrestaurant.com/sp-events/index.html"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Cannon's</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> above Dana Point Harbor. All of us together had 153 years of experience -- with the original partners! Thanks to the cachet of </span><a href="http://www.infinitysurfboard.com/history.htm"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Infinity Surf Boards</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, we got special treatment. In turn, we sent our regards down to the bride and groom who were having their reception on the patio below us. In the dark the bride's teeth were as white as her gown.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Larry and I headed back to Texas the last day of July. On the way we managed to burn up the transmission in the Jeep we were dragging. Somehow it slipped into gear somewhere in Utah. That was between visiting Penelope and Tim in </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._George,_Utah"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">St. George</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> and Danny and Nancy in </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_City,_Colorado"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Lake City, Colorado.</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> Pioneers all of them. </span><a href="http://www.heartwalkfoundation.org/about.php?nmx=2_0"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Penelope and Tim</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> (who met on an Indian reservation) live about twenty miles outside St. George in the adobe house they built themselves on land purchased 23 years ago. Danny and Nancy remember the "old" days (post-mining, pre-tourist) when </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_City,_Colorado"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Lake City </span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">was a hippy hangout and everyone gathered in one big house to share food and warmth. I have never seen such starry, starry nights as in those two places. The moon was absent, or only a sliver, and the Milky Way was a broad white swath across the sky. Both these couples appreciate <em>remote.</em> </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">"Remote" seems to be a keynote of this blog. Our friend Todd had us meet him in </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salida,_Colorado"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Salida</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">, rather than our driving sixteen or more miles out to the lodge he bought a few years ago. He moved there from hectic, fast-paced Orange County, and hasn't looked back. But he tells us he's looking to move into town. "Town" is big by Lake City standards. Lake City has 375 people. Salida has 5,000. But everyone keeps each other good company in the wintertime. </span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Our friends Chris and Ken had <em>just </em>sold their house in </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Santa_Fe,_New_Mexico"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Santa Fe.</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> It's up a dirt road and <em>felt </em>remote when we had dinner out on the deck in the evening. But the glow of the city lit up sky beyond the pines. There were stars, but the Milky Way was much paler. So they're moving....HERE! Well to San Pancho, just south of us. We had to agree with them. The Santa Fe of Larry's and my college days is long gone. Gentrification has taken over the central square. But our friend and neighbor down here, </span><a href="http://www.roadfood.com/Reviews/Overview.aspx?RefID=55"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Roque Garcia, is still selling carnitas on the corner</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">. We stopped for lunch, and he told us all about his new Guayabitos restaurant project. Yummm!</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">From Santa Fe to Lubbock was a day's drive. And it was in Lubbock we spent the last three weeks of our time north of the border. Larry had lots to occupy him getting all his toys in order and ready to travel. Ahem, a new transmission in the Jeep. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">And I spent the time hangin' with Mom and going to see Dad. </span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Speaking of remote, that seems to be Dad these days. He still has a sense of humor though. Or a sense of <em>something. </em>I showed him the photo Nancy took of Larry and me near Lake City -- the one you see at the top of this blog. I asked him if he knew who it was. "This," he said pointing to Larry, "is Harley Davidson. It says so right on his shirt. And, this one," he said pointing to me in the picture, "this one, I think, is writing her own script." He smiled at me. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Well, Daddy, I guess that pretty well describes it. If you wonder who I am these days, I guess I'm wondering, too. But I'll keep writing, and try to figure it out. </span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Love to you, Dad, and love to all. We're home!</span>O Susannah!http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736362637296948782noreply@blogger.com0