Category: Culture

A few weeks back I covered our celebration of Canadian Thanksgiving. In our family, we also celebrate Early Thanksgiving. It started several years ago when we were trying to determine how to get our two daughters, their husbands and kids all together to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving was always the big family celebration for us. Birthdays were quiet affairs, Christmas is mostly a religious holiday with some small gifts exchanged on the Eve, but Thanksgiving was “all hands on deck.” Everybody was expected to attend. Everybody got to select one side dish and one dessert; this resulted in a surfeit of food, but great leftovers. Turkey was of course the main event. Judy took care of all the cooking, I did all the cleaning. Everybody ate once together around 3:00 in the afternoon, then watched football and noshed the rest of the day.

But traveling over the Thanksgiving weekend is such a hassle, and the weather can be treacherous. Stores or theaters and the like are crowded, and somebody has to host. Thanksgiving was more pressure-packed than festive. Then one year by circumstance we knew we could not gather that weekend, so we decided to get together the weekend of Veteran’s Day. It was a simple change with profound effects.

Need a rental place to gather? Plenty available that weekend. Airfares are reasonable, and there are no crazy crowds. Two weeks earlier in the season generally means better weather. Those who work can get time off because no one else is asking for it. We’ve done it thrice now with great results. Yes, there are some challenges. This year we couldn’t find a fresh turkey, since they weren’t being stocked two weeks early. The football offerings on Thursday and Friday were more limited. Otherwise, it was great time. And our movable feast frees up the kids to visit their in-laws for the regular one.

We got a small taste of fall during our visit to Deep Creek Lake, Maryland. By Friday the forecasted rain had turned to a light frost as the temps hovered in the thirties and a steady wind blew in. We still managed to do some hiking. Gramps (yo) got in several rounds of pillow fights, ping pong, and jumping monster with the grandkids. The latter is a peculiar game which involves Gramps covering himself with blankets, making monster noises, and engaging in world-wrestling style combat with the grandkids armed with pillows. It mostly devolves into my being beaten senseless while laughing hysterically.

A great time was had by all. If you go through the usual harangue of family holiday gatherings, consider moving the celebration. The most important aspect of such an event is to get together, and that’s the part that is the easiest, when you’re not part of the crowd.

Just passed another Dia de Muertos here in Mexico. This year for the first time I saw some Mexican children in costumes headed around for Halloween!  Instead of yelling “trick or treat” they shout “queremos Halloween” or “we want Halloween.” It just adds another element to the extensive list of Mexican fiesta activities.

Last year, we visited the local cemetery and checked out some katrinas.  This year, Judy got a hankering for  pan de muertos, a tasty bread prepared annually for the fiesta. The top is shaped to resembled bones (and a cross); the bread itself is lightly sweet, with a slight orangey aftertaste. She found it at Panadería Rojas, which seems to be the “go-to” bakery locally.

We also treated ourselves to a showing of the movie “Coco” on the malecon. If you haven’t seen this animated movie, do so! I don’t normally recommend Disney movies, and their attempts to depict other cultures have at times been disastrous (thinking of Mulan here). Disney spent three years researching Mexican traditions with respect to Dia de Muertos, and they got it just right. The movie has become an instant classic down here, and it’s a cute movie, to boot!

The setting for watching the film was amazing, with the lake stretching out behind the screen and the mountains rising behind the audience. Proceeds from the event went to support the Dia de Muertos parade the next day; we’ll save that event for next year’s fiesta.

Finally, we had another showing of Coco, this time in Spanish, at our language school (Olé México). It was great to practice our language skills (subtitles in English) and I finally made it through the movie without tearing up (that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!). Afterwards, we learned about the Mexican custom of creating an ofrenda, or altar, to remember the dead. We even constructed one, with the pictures, memorabilia, food & drink, and marigold flowers (cempsuchil in español) which are omnipresent for this holiday.

I think the Mexican culture gets it right with respect to death. People here see it as inevitable, but nothing to fear. Children from an early age learn that it is part of the natural order, and the people’s faith in an afterlife helps immeasurably. I wouldn’t call it fatalistic, like Arab culture, but more realistic.

And I would be remiss if I missed an opportunity to tie Dia de Muertos with the Grateful Dead!

Some people have big birthday parties. Not me. Low key is just fine. I didn’t do anything special on the actual day of my birth, beside show up. And my days are full of blessings already.

Many people want to sing “Happy Birthday” to you on your birthday. I had an impromptu serenade on the way out of Church on Sunday. Very sweet.

Most people blow out the candles on a birthday cake. That was way too pedestrian for me. I decided to blow out a tire on my birthday. Therein lies a Mexican story.

Here in tiny Ajijic, the streets are cobblestone and narrow. Sometimes they are one-way, sometimes two-way, sometimes driver’s-choice. Sometimes you can park on only one side, sometimes both, sometimes in the middle of the street, if that’s convenient for you. Potholes pop up after every downpour during the rainy season, and they vary between a little bump and a real off-road experience. All these points lead one to drive with your eyes on the roadway, and hope for the best with respect to the sides of your car.

Which means when you park, you get as close to the curb as possible, and ALWAYS bend your side-view mirror in. Or else replace it. Or tape it back on. Or not.

On the way to Church on Sunday, when I parked as close to the curb as possible, I heard a very unusual “pfffft” sound just as I stopped. I went to check the passenger side front tire, and it was instantly and completely flat. Seems there were these odd little rusted metal do-dads sticking off the curb. They were all in a row, about a meter apart. Anti-parking strips? No, this was a legal space. Curb protectors? Why protect a huge concrete curb with a little piece of metal? Posts for a sign or sidewalk bumper? Perhaps. Never seen anything to protect a sidewalk in Mexico, but a long-gone sign for advertising? Yes, I could certainly see that in Mexico.

Of course my tire was new and there was no fixing it. And since my car was both new and a different model (VW) than I had ever owned, I got the joy of discovery as I installed my spare.  What’s this tool for (removing the lug covers)? Hey, look, there’s a locking lug-nut! I wonder where the special unlocking tool is? Hmmmm, must be a jack in here somewhere! I did have the owner’s manual in both English and Spanish. And the spare had helpful advice in German and Spanish. After a few multilingual swearings, I got the tire changed and proceeded to Mass.

After Mass, we asked friends Judy & Lorraine where to go to replace the tire, and they agreed (!) on Beto’s. So on Monday I drove down to Beto’s, past a fierce guard dog (not pictured; he was camera shy), and dropped off my tire. The mechanic just laughed when he saw it: no question this was a replacement job, not a repair job. Beto didn’t have my tire in stock, but he said he would go buy it and have it ready to install mañana.

A rule I learned NOB was the better the auto mechanic, the worse the condition of the shop. Seems like real gear-heads like to work on cars, and aren’t necessarily that into luxury accommodations. If you see a cappuccino machine in the repair shop waiting room, run! Beto’s place met my requirements, exactly. The front door is the driveway, which doubles as the waiting room because there is an outdoor couch in it. The stock of tires was limited, but they went out and found me a right-sized Michelin overnight. And they were friendly and efficient. Total cost was $5000 pesos (installed), around $300 US. Very reasonable: I could have gone with a cheaper tire, but this is not an area where I economize.

For locals, Beto’s is next to Tony’s in San Antonio Tlayacapan. The dangerous tire-stickers were along Constitución, just past Galeana.

So I got a new tire and a new mechanic: happy birthday to me!

Admit it, you’re wondering where this is going to go!

Living in an expat community like lakeside is an opportunity to celebrate with other cultures. I have previously touched on such subjects as the Day of the Dead, Cinqo de Mayo versus Mexican independence day, and even the Christmas holidays.  Now let’s talk turkey.

The second Monday in October is Thanksgiving in Canada, and since we have a numerous Canadian expats here, it’s the first of two Thanksgiving holidays lakeside. Canadian Thanksgiving looks very familiar to an American: turkey and squash and pumpkin pie. That’s because many loyalists from the American revolutionary war headed north to Canada, and brought the traditional standards from the American Thanksgiving celebration with them.

However, Canadians actually have a valid claim to having originated the concept of the holiday in the Western Hemisphere. Predating the Puritan story of 1621 that Americans know so well, Samuel de Champlain celebrated a feast of thanksgiving with First Nations peoples in 1604 in Canada. According to my Canadian friends, today’s feast is full of good food, family, and even a football double-header (CFL, of course!).

So we celebrated in true multicultural fashion by going to Gosha’s restaurant, which put on a special menu for the occasion.  And when I say multicultural, I mean multicultural. Gosha’s is owned by Carlos (a Mexican man from Yucatan) and his wife Gosha (from Poland). We were joined by our American friends John & Barbara, as we celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving.

Meanwhile in Mexico, October is dedicated to the Virgin Mary; Catholics in the U.S. and Canada celebrate this in May. I have to admit that I prefer the Mexican date, since it coincides with college football season, where I end up saying many “Hail Marys” anyway. Mexicans celebrate with fireworks (as always), daily rosary recitals and processions. We have a special chapel dedicated to Our Lady here in Ajijic, with a small statue that is specially dressed up this month. The statue is moved from church to church with great fanfare. You can almost track its progress by the boom of the cohetes in the morning.

Right now, the statue is at San Andres, our parish. Here she is in all her finery. There are similar celebrations across the country, and Guadalajara has one of the largest. On October 12th the Virgin of Zapopan will be processed for hours from the main cathedral to her original home in the (now) suburb of Zapopan, accompanied by crowds estimated at two million!

Here is a link to a video of what that procession looks like:

It is truly a joy to learn of others’ celebrations, see their traditions, and join in them.

Before we left the States, we noticed the growing trend of people wandering around, about their daily business, wearing earbuds or head-phones. Commercials even picked up the meme of placing the events of your day against your personal soundtrack. And of course you can find YouTube videos of such folks walking in front of a bus or otherwise acting oblivious as they are lost starring in their own little iTunes world.

Mexico has its own soundtrack. You don’t need earbuds or a smartphone; you just need ears. Welcome to the Republic of Sound!

Your aural day in Mexico will probably begin at daybreak, with the sounds of roosters. No, you don’t need to be in rural Mexico. Somebody in your neighborhood will have a few roosters, even in a city. I have learned that roosters have a terrible sense of time, and begin crowing at all hours after midnight. Here, that amounts to a “ki-kiri-ki” to replace your alarm clock.

If your local roosters let you sleep in, you might awake to a Mariachi band. One of the sure-fire ways  to say “I love you” in Mexico is to hire a Mariachi band to serenade the recipient at the crack of dawn. Your wife, your mom, your sister on her birthday, it doesn’t matter why; it is always appreciated by the intended.

Now that you’re awake, its time for a religious experience. Since you live in Mexico, you are within earshot of a church. That church has bells. Real bells, not some taped Muzak version of church bells. The bells are large and sonorous. They are attached by long ropes to a place where very energetic young Mexican boys can jump and down, holding the ropes, making the bells do what bells do. It is time for Mass. Or it is nearly time for Mass. Or its time for the consecration of the Mass, or the end of Mass. And you will hear it. Other times you will hear a loud but indistinct chant that runs on for half an hour. Some parishes say an early morning rosary. For the benefit of those too infirm (or too lazy) to attend, the parish broadcasts the rosary over a loudspeaker, generally situated on top of the bell tower for maximum coverage.

Awake and inspired, you decide to go out for breakfast. At the local restaurant, you will be nonplussed to find a travelling musician, singing Mexican ballads while strumming a guitar. These troubadours are everywhere, all-the-time. Restaurateurs tolerate them, and they graciously accept tips while never being too pushy in seeking them.

You decide to walk down to the plaza. On your way, you’ll doubtlessly pass an open-backed truck with a large speaker hardwired into the electrical system. A pre-recorded voice will intone–endlessely–“jitomate, veinte pesos” or some such jingle designed to get you to buy fresh produce. Or you’ll hear the local butane gas dealer with their signature call “Zeta Gaaaaaaaaaaas”, in case you need a refuel. Or if it happens to be an election cycle, you’ll see a small car with a giant speaker on top broadcasting a stirring, speed-of-sound call to vote for someone or something. Very loud, but not very distinct; always hard to decipher.

It’s afternoon, so you head home for a siesta. Most of Mexico observes this ritual as, at least, a time away from the work day, if not a literal nap. But there are exceptions. If you live in a development with extensive gardens, the local jardineros (gardeners) may be hard at work, taming the abundant and flourishing tropical flora. And they will do so in the most imaginative ways. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen (and heard) a jardinero standing on a ladder trimming a palm tree…with a weed whacker!

Its been several hours since you last ate, so you head back into town to visit a restaurant for dinner. But the street is closed and parking is hard to find, as a fiesta has broken out. It might be the novena of the town’s patron saint, or a national holiday, or just an obscure local cultural event, but there are crowds, and bands, and foodstalls, and why go to a restaurant? So you join in the raucous fun, but don’t wander too close to the fireworks display, because at some point it will ignite sending sparks, flames, and explosives into the crowd. What? Oh, yeah, there is no OSHA, so it will be explosively loud, and you will be temporarily deaf. At least I hope its temporary.

You can still see, so you head home as it’s dark and late. Safely in your casa, your ears are still ringing, but you can barely make out the sound of loud music; is it real, or just in your head? No, its the evento down the street: someone is celebrating a quinceanera, a wedding, or a graduation, and the banda music is still loud enough to be heard over the ringing in your ears.

Finally, the local trash truck comes by, with its expert team of trash collectors. They empty your trash cans and simultaneously shout directions in the dark as the large truck, with trash hanging in bags off both sides, expertly navigates your cul-de-sac both forwards and backwards. As they turn for the open highway, they even break out in song!

A long day. You can still barely hear the banda music, but you’re tired, so its time for bed. As you drift off, you continue to hear cohetes (fireworks) exploding. It could be your imagination, or the end of the fiesta. It could be the wedding, or it might just be your neighbor celebrating a victory by Chivas. It’s Mexico. You don’t really need an excuse for a song, or a chime, or a shout, or a bang. Not in the Republic of Sound.

Passing the 18 month anniversary of our move to Mexico, and fresh off the Camino which dominated the first 12 months of our time here, we are starting to branch out with other new activities. We were very careful that first year, based on the advice of local friends with great experience, to not over-commit our time, as some expats find themselves so over-scheduled their retirement lives are busier than their work ones were!

I applied for and was accepted into (shocking, I know) a local chapter of the Rotary. Chapala Sunrise Rotary is only a few years old, but is already the 3rd largest in its district. Our members are a mix of Rotary veterans and newcomers like me. This week we visited the small pueblo of Ojo de Agua, a 250 person Mexican community along Lake Chapala. Actually, the community is indigenous, comprising the Coca peoples who long predate the formation of the Mexican nation and have a storied, independent past.

Chapala Sunrise Rotary has built some water storage tanks, and is working with the people, local authorities, an NGO, and Mexican governments at various levels to improve the health of this community. I look forward to being a part of these efforts.

On a lighter side, Judy and I are considering how to take up tennis. We start with zero knowledge and experience, but we have two beautiful clay courts in our development at our disposal, and we want to try another sport where we can practice and play together. So once we figure out just how we are going to start this endeavor, you’ll hear more about our progress.

Finally, we’re going to take (dramatic pause)… dancing lessons. Judy actually knows how to dance, because she has some sense of rhythm. As for me, not so much. Actually, not at all. In fact, I may be the living definition of the phrase “absence of rhythm.” So progress here may be even slower, and I guarantee there will be no videos until I can handle the level of embarrassment!

That’s what we have new in store as we conclude year number two of expat life. That, and some travels around Mexico I will detail in future posts!

The past twenty days or so, I have been a geographic bachelor as my wife went to the States to attend to my daughter. I stayed home to take care of the dog, who like me, is getting a little older and crazier, and needs to be watched. Now back in the day, the Army or my other work sent me places where I was away from home for extended periods of time, but that was business travel, which is an entirely different ballgame. You go somewhere exotic for some specific reason, you have some specific mission, you complete it and you go home. All your away time is spent doing what they sent you for so you can go home.

This was something entirely different. I was home, in familiar settings, but by myself. Except for my dog, who is not much of a conversationalist. He basically asks “can we go out now?” or “is any of that food for me?” or yells “OMG, there is a truck outside stealing our trash DO SOMETHING!” Other than that, he just lays there and asks “where’s Mom?” Over and over and over again.

After graduating from West Point, I got married five days later, so I had very limited bachelor time. This was a learning experience for me. Here is what I learned:

• Cooking for one is a PITA. Contrary to popular opinion, I can cook, but I don’t like to cook. I so don’t like to cook that I don’t even like to grill, which I know is a big man-card issue. To me, its just cooking outdoors, so WTH? My lovely wife likes to cook, and likes to eat healthy, so my normal routine consists of (a) becoming hungry, (b) asking when breakfast/lunch/dinner is, (c) eating, and (d) cleaning up. When you are alone, by the time I get hungry, I think, “I need to defrost something” which leads nowhere fast or somewhere quick and not very good. I prepare double portions with the hope I’ll be willing to reheat/eat left-overs, which I then fail to do. Oh, and there’s still that clean up thing, too.
• Do not get sick, under any circumstances! If you get sick, make sure your friends rescue you, or you will die. This may sound drastic, but bear with me. I got stomach flu. You get so weak you can’t go out to the doctor. Also, I didn’t want to go to the doctor and get sent to the hospital, because what do I do with the dog? Luckily I have friends who brought food, drinks, and would have done more if I asked. But the bottom line is, when you are alone, the margin of error gets pretty close to zero.
• Have a fire-proof house.  This requires some explanation. I have told my wife on more than one occasion that we don’t need to worry about fire, because our casa is brick and mortar and there is nothing to burn. I went one step further this past week by testing that hypothesis. As I was recovering from the flu, I decided to make a pot of tea (lapsong souchong, in case you were wondering) to ease my symptoms. At around 8:00 pm I put some water in a pot on our gas stove to boil, and went back to my computer screen. Around 10:00 pm I took the dog out for a final walk, then went back and went to bed. After a fitful night, I awoke at 7:00 am and went to take the dog out again. When I came back to the kitchen, I hit a wave of hot air: what the? There was the pot, still on the flame eleven hours later! The water was (of course) all gone, the pot was oh-so-hot, but otherwise, nothing was wrong. I did use about 10% of the gas in my propane tank, but given the possibilities, that was a loss I was happy to accept. The real lesson is not fire-proofing as much as it is when you’re alone, there is no one to double check you for stupidity. In this case my guardian angel was working overtime.
• I have a wonderful wife; this I already knew. There is nothing like an enforced absence to crystallize the concept. I know I am spoiled, that I made one really good decision in life and have been benefiting from it ever since. I did not suspect that she was also my muse, as I have found it hard to think of things to write about while she was absent. I think this verse says it all:

The Lord God said “It is not good for the man to be alone.”

The man said, “at last, this one is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.”

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife…

— Genesis 2:18, 23-24.