Category: Culture

Yesterday was the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which you might have missed. You can’t travel in Mexico, or even a Mexican barrio in the States, and not notice the Mexican people’s overwhelming attraction to the Virgin Mary. You will see murals, paintings, sculptures, and even tattoos with the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, “La Guadalupana.”

You might think this is a Catholic thing, but it goes way beyond that. Even secular Mexicans and the growing “Nones” still show an uncanny respect for La Guadalupana.  She has transcended religion and become something special–and this in a country where almost anything can be a source of humor!

Most people are familiar with the story: the Virgin Mary appeared to a local Méxica man named Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin during December, 1531. She told him to ask the Bishop build a church on Tepeyac hill. Juan Diego asked but was rebuffed by the skeptical cleric, who asked for a sign. Our Lady directed Juan Diego to gather roses which had (surprisingly) bloomed on the hill; he carried them to the Bishop in his cloak (tilma). When he spilled the roses at the Bishop’s feet, his tilma revealed a spectacular and unique image of Our Lady. The tilma remains intact and on display in the resulting Basilica in Tepeyac.

Regardless of how you feel about miracles in general or this one in particular, what may be the most amazing part is what happened next.

Recall from my earlier post that the Méxica empire had collapsed in 1521 under the twin pressures of Hernán Cortés and diseases brought by the Spanish soldiers. Ten years on, the Catholic missionaries who accompanied the conquistadors had made little headway. While the Méxica people were shocked by the collapse of their proud civilization, nothing that happened undermined their faith. While some locals near the coast thought Cortés and his men might be the return of the god Quetzalcoatl, the Méxica leaders pretty quickly figured out the Spaniards were not gods. The Méxica religion included stories of impending catastrophe which their leaders sometimes invoked to reinforce their position of power (“Look, I prevented the end of the world!”). One story Moctezuma used was a prophecy about the fall of Tenochtitlan caused by two-headed warriors. The metal-clad conquistadors on horseback certainly fit the bill as two-headed bearers of the apocalypse! The Méxica people were demoralized, but what happened fit the precepts of their faith, and they found the sacrificial Savior of the friars to be either confusing or ridiculous. Proselytization went slowly as  result, until the tilma came to light.

While documentary evidence for the apparition only dates to 1648/49 (Spanish and Nahuatl accounts, respectively) and is therefore historically suspect, there is a 1568 account by an English prisoner which describes the tilma image as an object of veneration. The image on the tilma is an exotic mix of Catholic and Méxica traditions, which the Méxica people quickly embraced. Whatever happened on that hill (now) in Mexico City, the heretofore resistant Méxica people became overwhelmingly and persistently Catholic as a result.  That alone qualifies as a miracle.

Another installment of this occasional series, this one on the Aztecs. You recall the Aztecs, no doubt, the sprawling Mesoamerican empire under Montezuma, who confronted and was later destroyed by the Spanish Conquistador Hernando Cortes.

Let’s start by correcting a few simple translation differences: Hernando Cortes is Hernán Cortés in the original Spanish, while Montezuma is the more popular–but less correct–transliteration of the Aztec leader’s name: the more correct version is Moctezuma.  I doubt the US Marine Corps will be correcting their hymn anytime soon (“from the halls of Montezuma”, and it is a nuanced pronunciation change, so “As you were, Marines!”). Neither of these points matter much, and are easily explained by the difficulties in translating between vastly different language groups.

The more important change goes back to that term Aztecs. See, there were no Aztecs. From what we know of the empire around Tenochtitlan at that time, the people called themselves Méxica, which represented a new name denoting an alliance of powerful city states (primarily Tenochtitlan and Tlatelolco), and the language they spoke was Nahuatl. When you run into many difficult tl phonemes in Mexican place names, blame it on Nahuatl. If you read the Spanish accounts of the conquest, there is no mention of the Aztecs; the Spaniards referred only to the Méxica. (As an aside, if you want to read an amazing adventure story, there is an English language translation of Bernal Díaz del Castillo’s eye-witness account of the conquest, which is gripping!).

So whence Aztecs? The Méxica people’s origin story was that they descended from a tribe who lived in a legendary place called Aztlan, and were thus “from Aztlan” or “Aztecas” in Nahuatl. It was an important term of ancestral relationship, much like my family claiming to be Irish, when we have more German ancestors than any other ethnic group, and we’re all Americans, anyway.

This interesting historical and linguistic fact (the Méxica, not the Neary’s) was irrelevant until the 19th century, when a German explorer conducted an expedition into Mexico and wrote about the Méxica origin story, calling them Aztecs. His work was cited by William Prescott, a famous American historian who wrote History of the Conquest of Mexico in 1843, long considered the seminal work on the subject. Prescott used the appellation Aztecs for the Méxica, and it stuck.

It makes much more sense that a country named México was inhabited by a people named the Méxica; less so the Aztecs. While the Méxica origin story is important, it was probably a mistake to re-name their culture for it. Imagine a historian of the future noting that in the 21st century, there were people living around a lake in Mexico, and their origin story was they were Expats, so they must have been from a heretofore undiscovered place called Expatia. In some sense it would be technically correct, but not in any sense right. The next time you here a reference to the Aztecs, stick up for the Méxica!

No, not the 1951 science fiction classic (and you’re dating yourself if you even remember that movie), I’m thinking of the line from the opening song to the Rocky Horror Picture Show (“Science Fiction/Double Feature”). As in “But when worlds collide, said George Pal to his bride, I’m gonna give you some terrible thrills.”

Actually, there is nothing so dramatic to report here. The title just occurred to me as I considered what it is like to live in another culture during a holiday season.

It really hit home a week ago Wednesday, when Judy and I were hiking. As we were nearing our casa, I said, “that was a great hike. I think tomorrow will be pretty quiet; do we have anything planned?” Judy said “Just Thanksgiving.” Yes, I had completely forgotten the most American of all holidays. Oh, we had plans, including a traditional dinner with friends at a local restaurant. Because of the large expat population, many local restaurants serve up a traditional Thanksgiving feast. I even had a little warning, as Canadian Thanksgiving falls on the second Monday of October, and was dutifully celebrated by Canadian expats and local restaurants lakeside.

Thanksgiving week here coincided with the start of the Mexican fiesta season.  The third Monday in November (November 20th this year) commemorates the 1910 Revolution (Día de la Revolución) which overthrew the dictator Porfirio Díaz. The weekend leading up Día de la Revolución has been adopted by Mexican commercial interests as Buen Fin (Good End, as in “buen fin de semana” or “good weekend”, which is the Mexican equivalent of Black Friday). Interesting to note that the stores did not try to purloin a religious holy day, but instead chose a secular holiday.

The very next day was the start of the patronal feast for San Andrés (St. Andrew).  Each town has a patron saint, and celebrates a novena (nine day fiesta) in their honor. This includes bands playing at dawn, fireworks until midnight, parades sponsored by different groups, singing, dancing, rides and beer/food stalls and items for sale on the closed streets around the plaza…each night! San Andrés feast is November 30th, but for some reason (Mexicans don’t require much reason for this) the fiesta is extended this year all the way to December 3rd.

That date is muy importante, as the next day begins the novena (yes, another nine days of national fiesta) for Our Lady of Guadalupe, whose feast is December 12th. Mexicans of all ages hold Mary in special regard and this is a very special time for them. But you can see where this is going, because on December 16th, the novena before Christmas begins with posadas (nightly street processions recalling the Holy Family’s search for an inn in  Bethlehem, but these processions end with house parties). New Year’s eve is much the same as NOB, but is followed by Día de Reyes (Three Kings Day) on January 6th, which is the traditional day for giving children gifts in Mexico.

Basically, from November 20th until January 6th, not much gets done lakeside (or in Mexico, for that matter), and there is always some reason to celebrate.

And for those still wondering why I began this post with a clip from Rocky Horror: well, last Thanksgiving, I posted (on FaceBook) a link to the classic song “Alice’s Restaurant.” I thought I would show a little range with my musical selection this year…after all, “its just a jump to the left!”

Last weekend we attended the 16th annual Feria, a festival where artists from across Mexico are invited to Chapala, our neighboring town and political seat, to demonstrate their wares. The effort was begun by expats, and is pulled off by over 200 volunteers, who set up the tents, organize and staff the event.  The invited artists stay with volunteers, and otherwise pay nothing for the opportunity. Crowds come from all over Jalisco and other Mexican states.

The key to the even is the authenticity and the expertise of the artists.  Whether they work in leather or stone, textiles or clay, jewelry or wall art, they are chosen because they represent local artistic traditions, done in a classical sense. No chance you’ll run into a “Made in China” label or a mass-market imitation. Each artist sets up a small display where they can sell their efforts, on the grounds of the yacht club in Chapala.  There is an entrance fee which defers the administrative costs. Here’s a triptych from inside the event:

What most amazed us was the craftsmanship of the work. The art pieces we encountered were obviously the work of tens to hundreds of hours of work, and lovingly completed by artists dedicated to their craft.

We bought some figurines, to which we will add some ballast so they can serve as door stops. We find that the airflow is so good through the casa that our doors are constantly slamming shut with the breeze, unless we doorstop them. We found a nice small basket we needed for use at the parish, and a copper pot which serves as a container for our wooden spoons. Finally, w gave in to the calavera tradition and purchased a small, ornamental skull, which was just too attractive to pass up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My favorite has to be this calavera, which just screams “Mexico!”:

I can’t imagine anything less blog-worthy than a trip to the dentist, but then again, dental care is yet another topic of interest to the prospective expat, and one where the advantages of expat life loom large.

By our experience, much of the dental care provided in Mexico is similar to that in the States. There are dentists with small private practices and dental clinics with multiple dentists and hygienists. You make an appointment, see your dentist, and pay when you leave. The Mexican dentists we encountered spoke English, as did most of the administrative staff. A dental exam was free, while a cleaning ran about 200 pesos ($11 USD).

We’ve been to two local dentists. One did the exam and cleaning together, at the other they were considered separate items (you had to schedule the cleaning, too). They both had the same equipment as we experienced north of the border: ultrasonic cleaning, whitening, composite fillings, modern pain management treatments. Judy went in for a crown, and they completed the entire installation in one day, as they had a 3D printer available to make the crowns in the clinic.

 

I went in for a series of small cavities/fillings. The only different technique I encountered with Doctor Rodrigo was a dental dam, which he used to isolate the teeth while working on them.  This was new to me, but when I researched it, I found it was a technique invented in the US … in 1864!

The quality of the dental work was the same as in the States; the big difference was the cost. Judy’s crown was $3900 MXP ($205 USD), while my fillings were $440 MXP ($23 USD) each.  You can see why some Americans who live close to the border go to Mexico for their dental care, and why some expats have kids or grandkids who come to visit and get braces, teeth whitening, etc.

NOB or here in Mexico, there is one thing all visits to the dentist have in common: pain! No one has solved that challenge, yet.

Few things put the differences in culture between the United States and Mexico in such stark relief as the contrast between Halloween and the Day of the Dead (Dia de Muertos). Both have a lineage to the Christian practice of praying for the dead, which dates back to the earliest days of the Church, but have evolved in such different directions as to make them unrecognizable.

Halloween in the States has mostly lost its religious ties. It is a single evening, October 31st. When I was a child, it had already become primarily a children’s holiday involving simple costumes (got a sheet? you’re a ghost), candy (please no fruit!), and sometimes mild anti-social behavior (I swear I have no idea how those pumpkins got smashed, Dad). It remains a children’s holiday today, along with neighbors banding together to put on elaborate haunted house displays and even displaying Halloween lights. But now it is also an adult holiday with big parties and extreme costumes venturing from the risque to the offensive. Some have suggested that the original Halloween was a Christian rip-off of the Celtic Samhain celebration, a harvest/new year event on November 1st. While this is unlikely (the date for the Christian holy day came from Germany, not Ireland), it is uncanny how comfortable a pagan Celt would be out for a night of American Halloween.

Dia de Muertos, Day of the Dead, has fully retained its original religious significance and developed its own festive spirit. I must admit that watching the festivities from the outside, I was struck by the unusual art, altars, and rituals. What’s with all the skeletons? Food for the dead? Candy skulls? It all seemed more Mexica (you know them as the Aztecs) than Christian.

While the Mexica peoples–like all ancient cultures–had festivals to honor the dead, most of what we see today is imported from the Spanish and then translated by modern Mexico to its own culture. The Spaniards introduced the Christian holy days for the departed to Mexico. November 1st is Dia de los Inocentes/Angelitos, dedicated to little children who have died; November 2nd is the Day of the Dead, where deceased family

members are remembered and honored.  Families go to the Panteón (cemetery) and attend to the grave, sharing a meal of the loved one’s favorite snacks or leaving behind mementos of things they liked. Families will often also build an altar (ofrenda) at home or on their street with the same artifacts. Marigolds are often used as decoration. The notion is that the deceased come in spirit and visit with the living, enjoying those things they enjoyed in life.

What about the skeletons? They do trace back to Mexica culture, and a general view of death as inevitable and something to mock, certainly not fear. Skeletons come in two sorts: calaveras and catrinas. Calaveras are fake skulls, often brightly painted or decorated, representing the dearly departed.  They can be edible–sugar and chocolate are popular–or made of durable materials like clay. In the 19th century, literary calaveras appeared; they are humorous poems about the living (especially the famous or politicians) reminding them they will one day be dead, like everyone else.

Another recent addition to the celebration started in the early 20th century. The famous Mexican lithographer José Guadalupe Posada made a print of a full length skeleton dressed in then-modern European finery, meant to mock wealthy Mexicans who put on airs. He called his skeleton the Calavera Catrina, and variations of his work have become synonymous with Dia de Muertos.

So we heard no doorbells on Tuesday evening, but on Wednesday and Thursday we did see a procession to the Panteón, some altars, and many Mexicans fondly remembering their departed loved ones. In case you are wondering, the Mexicans we met welcomed us to take pictures, as they were quite proud of their efforts!

Feliz Dia de Muertos!

We made it back to the Villa Infantil, which I covered in an earlier post. The event was the October birthday bash, which honored three children ages 2, 3, and 3. This time, we got a better chance to play t-ball with the kids before lunch. I was amazed at how well these  kids throw and hit the wiffle ball, given that futbol (aka soccer) is the primary sport here. I did spot one dead giveaway: one of the the boys threw the wiffle ball right toward an older girl, who wasn’t watching. At the last minute, she looked up, saw the wiffle ball coming toward her head, then calmly stepped to the side, caught it with the top of her foot, and dropped it to the ground beside her. Only in Mexico!

The birthday kids were so young, they weren’t quite sure what was going on; little Jorge (or was that Cristofer?) sat in Sister’s lap all during the cake and birthday song, looking like he feared for his life.  The bag of birthday presents brought out a big smile!

Lunch was delicious chicken tacos with a side of carrot salad, before tres leches cake (delicious!).

Andrea loved her new doll and baby carriage.

I took some panoramic shots of the villa, so you could see more of the well-kept grounds where the children and Sisters live. Once again, a few hours of nothing but happiness and fun. We get back so much more than we give!

So we’re safely back lakeside after our six week adventure NOB. In relaying to our many friends and family how we are doing down here, I often referred to how many Gringos there are lakeside, compared to the Mexican population. I noticed that several people winced when I used that word, as they perhaps had been led to believe it is a slur.

Then I noticed a Facebook discussion about the term Gringo, which repeated the contention it is a slur for Americans, and also dredged up several stories about how the term came to be.

Well, you know me and words, and if you don’t, just drop a “fulsome” or “impact” in conversation the next time you see me, then stand back when I go off. So let’s do some etymological research, shall we?

The common story about the term Gringo tells you it is a specific slur against Americans, evidenced by the signage “Gringo go home” which popped up in several Latin Americans countries in the 20th century, as the US intervened in them. This derivation ties the term to the US invasion of Mexico during the war of 1846-48. One version cites that the US troops wore green, and Mexicans yelled after them “Green go home” which became Gringo. This version fails for the simple reason the US Army wore blue, not green. A second explanation cites that US troops sang a popular song entitled “Green grow the lilacs” (note: there are several other such songs which make the same claim) as they marched through Mexico. Mexicans heard this and started referring to the invading troops as Grin-gros, but could not pronounce the second “r” so it became gringo. While Americans have trouble rolling an “r” as sometimes required in Spanish, Mexicans do not. Furthermore, there is no evidence the US Army used that song as a marching tune at the time. It was popular during the US civil war a few years later, but not during the war with Mexico. Both of these versions share the basis of the term with animosity toward the United States as an invading power, which aligns neatly with those 1950/60/70/80s signs I mentioned.

If these popular stories don’t stand up to scrutiny, what is the origin of the term? Most likely, you already know the answer, you just don’t realize that you know the answer. There is a phrase common to almost all western languages (English, French, Spanish, German, Italian, etc.), a phrase we all use when we hear or see something we simply can not understand. Guessed it yet? How about “It’s all greek to me!”

A variation of this phrase exists in all those languages, and it is meant to convey incomprehensibility. Why? We have the Romans to thank for it. The common language of Rome was Latin, but educated Romans learned Greek and used it to signal their status. Greek is a fairly simple language, but it uses a different alphabet, which renders it especially challenging to the non-speaker. Many Romans who spoke only Latin could still run into Greek texts or speech, and be flummoxed by it, leading to the phrase “it’s all Greek to me.”

But wait, what does this have to do with Gringo, and where’s the proof? In etymology, hard proof is difficult to come by. But the corresponding phrase in Spanish is “hablar en greigo” which is literally “to speak in Greek” and means to be incomprehensible. And there is a Spanish Dictionary published in 1786 which cites the term “gringo” as used for foreigners who have difficulty speaking or understanding Spanish. There are several other citations for the same meaning of the term from the mid 19th century, none of which deal directly with Americans. While Americans started noticing be called Gringos after the war with Mexico, that was probably because they were encountering an existing term, not something created especially for them.

So the obvious and more recent usage of Gringo as an anti-American slur is not the full story.  Sure, someone could use it that way. My Spanish teacher here at lakeside put it this way: “in Mexico, its not the words you say, its how you say them.” She went on to add that Mexicans aren’t as hung up on formal Spanish, they like to use nicknames and diminutives (like the suffix -ita/ito), and they frequently say “please” (por favor). So if you want to call someone a Gringo, just make sure you’re smiling when you say it!