I (Heart) Fall...

Saturday we took family pics... this photo was in-between takes and unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) didn't survive the merciless cutting-room floor...

"Guy talk" - we think. Kiowa Camping was this weekend and after church some good friends stuck around to hang with the fam... it was a beautiful afternoon with lots of laughter and lots of food... what else at our house???

Does anyone else enjoy taking pictures of the ground? How can you help it when God lays down a carpet like this for our enjoyment? Thank you, Lord...

Hmmm... famous photograph, WWII, V-J Day, LIFE Magazine... anyone know it?

Oh yes... another in-between takes shot. And the uniform Tif is wearing belonged to my Grandpa Rudy... he wore it while he was in Korea.

The tree (yes... tree) we climbed (okay... Tif and Chel climbed) to take Christmas pictures (yes... in October) and managed not to fall out of (I know... a miracle).

Gosh... I'm going to miss moments like these... straining muscles, causing small objects to fall off the walls and stands in our house, screaming and yelling until I am hoarse... and most of all laughing until I was crying and having a fabulous time.

Good times... great family. I love you guys.

I slept in THE bed last night...

You know what that means?

I'm home!!! =)

Uds. saben la significa de ese?

Yo estoy a casa!!! =)

Good Times & Lots of Pictures that Wouldn't Load...

ADIÓS A NUESTRO AMIGO, ERIC:

Last Friday we had a short night out with our friend Eric since he left Saturday morning to head to Guadalajara and then back home to California. We checked out fun pictures on my computer from our time here in Morelia while sitting in a cafe and staring at the very cool hole in the ceiling... it literally looked like it had just been blasted through and left for decor purposes... I kept trying to think of metaphors for it to coincide with our last night... but they are all terrible, so I will spare your eyes and mentalities...

Above you see Eric pictured with his "goodbye cake" that he didn’t even have to say "sooorry" for, and that Eileen told him he could take to the "plane station" or the "eye doctor shop," to which Eric responded he might need to visit the "tooth shop" afterwards...

Okay, I made up that particular conversation, but all those phrases have been used in one way or another while we have been here, along with others just as idiotic...

Let’s just say that our English is deteriorating... rapidly... lol...

"Ima thinken is tiempo para return... I mean, regresar... home... a casa... ack."

WHAT CAN YOU DO WITH A BOX?

Quite a bit... as Booz and his friend demonstrated Saturday morning. I awoke around 8:30 to the wonderful aroma of Rogelio making a fabulous breakfast of huevos con sebolla y chile (eggs with onion and chile peppers), frijoles con chile (beans with chile peppers), salchichas or perros calientes (grilled hot dogs), along with the standard guacamole, salsa, queso, and tortillas.

I felt very special when I was asked to make the coffee... =)

I read the newspaper for a while, teared up over the events of a vehicle accident, and then helped Booz with his homework (very good practice for the orphanage, I think...). We ate breakfast and then Booz began his exploration of "THE Box."

That’s right... THE Box... which happens to be a large cardboard container from the television that we unpacked yesterday. Booz immediately appropriated this container and it soon became (dubbed by me) "La Nueva Casa de Booz" - every child’s dream. It reminded me of our "Keebler Hut" that AP got us for Christmas one year... I think this box will last as long in the living room as the "Hut" lasted in ours... just until the parentals get tired of it...!

I have pictures, but they're not wanting to upload today for some reason...

Did I want to get in? Of course... Did I? Maybe... like when the rest of the family was gone...

EL MERCADO de DULCES, BREAD IS MY FAVORITE, & 15 GALLONS OF WATER:

Meghan and I headed to the Mercado de Dulces (Candy/Sweets Market) Saturday afternoon because, despite its name, the mercado has millions (literally) of different items, artifacts, and whatever else you can imagine available for your viewing and purchasing pleasure.

However, when I arrived at the San Francisco plaza to meet Meghan, I discovered that tents had been set up all around the square and even though it was raining (again) people were swarming around the different displays. After Meghan arrived we decided to check it out... And found Feria de Pan Internacional... that’s right... a festival of bread.

We were... I think "elated" is the correct word... lol.

It was incredible... above you see a pic of a layered cake that these ladies were decorating. There was also a very special type of bread called pan de muerto (death bread) that is made especially for El Dia de Muerto which is celebrated in Mexico on Oct. 31. During the festival ancestors are celebrated in an all-night vigil held at the gravesides of the beloved family members or friends who have passed on before.

Every step we took people were offering tastes of their wares, and (not wanting to offend, of course) we tried everything... delicious.

We finally headed to the mercado and managed to spend close to an hour and a half browsing, asking questions, tasting different concoctions, and generally having a great time. We met a little boy in one of the shops and managed to take pictures with the viejito masks you see above... good times. I found some fun things, but I can’t mention them because that would be giving away secrets... =) Soon, however!

After leaving the mercado we discovered that it wasn’t raining any longer... it was pouring. So... we decided to brave it with my umbrella and began walking along the main avenue, squelching along in our flip-flops. I noticed that the sides of the streets were full (once again) of about a foot of water, but didn’t consider that that foot of water could end up on us.

I think the taxi driver did it on purpose... I’m pretty sure I heard him step on the accelerator right before he hit the puddle of water, spraying both Meghan and I with approximately 15 gallons of water from the waist down, soaking our pants, and causing us to simply look at one another with dumb expressions of disbelief immediately followed by raucous laughter...

"I’ve always kinda wanted that to happen to me," said Meghan. "But not really, you know?"

So... I now officially know what it’s like to be soaked by street water and deranged taxi drivers... chalk up another one to experience.

We stuck a little farther away from the curbs after that...

MY SOAPBOX a.k.a. LESSONS IN LOVE:

I hope you are all still reading after that title... =)

I really do have a subject that I would like to write about, though... so here goes.

It is absolutely amazing to me how ingrained and natural "love" is in the Hispanic culture. Not only is it shown between couples and adults with their children, but also between friends, brothers and sisters, people on the streets, and even extended to gringos like me.

Often Mexican men (and Latin men in general) are stereotyped as being hopelessly over-the-top when it comes to romance... almost as if it’s a show or something that they feel they need to live up to and isn’t based on true sentiment.

I would like to blow that theory out of the water from what I have seen here. Instead I think their culture has truly cultivated in them a belief that Love is the greatest achievement in life - through family, through their belief in God, through their careers, through one another - and that no other motive is as important as spreading whatever Love one has to each and every person they meet.

Consequently, loving people and subsequently taking care of them in every way possible is not just a belief here... it is a way of life. It’s not weird to see a sixteen-year-old son with his arm wrapped around his mother’s shoulders kissing her forehead in public as they stroll along... or to watch both grown women and men hug, kiss, and walk arm-in-arm to their destinations... or to find out that an entire family of ten or fifteen people live together not because they have to, but because they prefer to stay close to one another.

It’s incredible to me that when you meet someone for the first time in Mexico, it is almost rude not to greet them with a kiss on the cheek.

And if you’re squeamish about touching people... it’s not the country for you. On the bus, in the streets, in the stores, in the school... the sense of touch is almost more important than any other because it is a sign of security, of comfort, of acceptance; you hold my arm as we cross the street because you are keeping me safe... I hug you as I leave because we have a good friendship... you kiss my cheek in greeting as you shake my hand because you respect me... etc.

I love the fact that here in Mexico a "sensitive" individual is not equated to a "stupid" one; that wearing your heart on your sleeve is a never-ending style; that the language has developed and been used in such a way that saying a sentence in Spanish is always, always emotional no matter the subject material; and that I am not the only soft-hearted idiot who cries at commercials and movies (I have several guy friends here who will freely admit to their emotional breakdowns... que padre [cool]).

I am not trying to say that I think everyone should be like this... the world is full of different people with different backgrounds and many, many experiences that have contributed to who they are... I am simply saying that this aspect of the Mexican culture I find beautiful... and appreciate. Probably even more so because my family are "hug people"... if you aren’t sure what that means or have never experienced it, come to our house in Hazelton for a visit... lol.

And (I am possibly ruining my reputation with this)... I have realized that I do like it when a guy offers me the protection I don’t need to avoid the automobiles in the street that I can clearly see; and asks whether I want to wear the jacket that I don’t need to keep me warm from the night that isn’t cold; or offers to stand in the aisle when I get on the bus so I can have a seat.

I don’t need it... but I do appreciate it. And... I would do the same for them...

Humble pie? Perhaps, to a certain amigo in KC... =)

AND NOW? THE END... ALMOST:

My new look... what think you?

Things that made me happy yesterday...

(A photo taken by my friend Nimrod overlooking Morelia... I live toward the right...)

1. Receiving a package from my friend Cody that contained the bound anthology of the "fruits of labor" of our January 2006 travel writing class’s trip to New Orleans (if you are interested I can pass it along)...

2. Re-reading the stories from my talented amigos in the anthology...

3. Sealing my flip-flop (Dad... your glue didn’t hold...) once again with Fernanda’s "magic black goop"...

4. Writing and passing "secret" notes with Booz during La Fea Mas Bella in our living room...

5. Eating an ice cream mixture that had the equivalent of Carnation© sweetened, condensed milk poured over the top and a tiny bit of cinnamon to add flavor (you would have loved it Chel)...

6. Being asked to bring The Next Stage Theatre to Mexico and perform (anyone interested in hopping a plane to Morelia and putting on "Our Town" once again???)...

7. Not getting a single mosquito bite...

8. Reading high school level stories in español and actually understanding all of them (please understand this is sometimes uncommon for me)...

9. Laughing through the conversation club subject of "kissing"...

10. Shopping for "the coolest man shoes in the world" with my friend Eric...

11. Finally realizing that the song "Fantasma" by Zion is by Zion & Lennox so that I can actually find it online (p.s. it’s a fun song... listen to it if you have time on www.imeem.com )...

12. Counting underwear and realizing I don’t have to wash clothes again before I leave...

13. Planning for Meghan to come to our church service with me on Sunday...

14. Playing "winksy" with the cutest little Mexican boy on the bus...

15. Accepting the fact that (as one of the Americans - it’s true for all of us - who wears sandals constantly much to the surprise and... well... dismay... of most of the native Morelians) I will have permanently blackened feet for the rest of my life... "permadirt" as Meghan calls it...

16. Realizing that God had a plan when he sent me to this family to become a "big sister" who frequently becomes la caballita de Booz (Booz’s pony)...

17. Receiving a couple entertaining e-mails from my professors in Kansas...

18. Hearing some of the most beautiful Spanish lyrics I have ever had the privilege to listen to (Silvio Rodriguez’s song "Ojalá"... look that up too if you’d like!) and then crying in class as I listened (I know none of you are surprised)...

19. Drinking the most wonderful capucino con sabor de crema de irrlandesa (cappucino with Irish cream) while having a fabulous conversation...

20. And lastly... knowing that I will see all of you in 10 days! Well... okay... 13 days for you, Tif... =)

Crazy how quickly time can pass when you are enjoying life, but how ready you are to feel and experience the joys and comforts of home...

So We Went to Guadalajara...

...and found a huge, sprawling metropolis that looks like every other huge, sprawling metropolis.

What did I expect?

More grass. Less sun. Diego Luna, perhaps???

Nimrod, Eileen, and I at a Cuban cafe recommended to us by a man who called us "Californians" and then said, "Oh yeah... you all want to party... this is a good place... smile, man... I take you myself if you want..."

There was writing all over the walls, and other than the incredibly high prices (we totally should have known) we had a good time. And... we are now experts in bargaining down prices... our ride to the Hotel Villa del Sol in a taxi was 130 pesos... our ride back was 50... "haggling" my friends... "haggling" is the term...

A church in Tlaquepaque... a suburb of Guadalajara that we visited on Sunday which is (admittedly) very tourist-driven, but that has beautiful arts and crafts and the "small-town" feel you get with artisan-friendly neighborhoods. Much like Lindsborg, actually...

Nimrod, Meghan, and Eileen in front of a church (I don't know the name) in Guadalajara... and I promise this picture isn't fake, although it does sort of look it... must be the "amazing" skills of the photographer who (you will notice) isn't pictured... =) This was right before we walked around the Centro Historico for seven hours... it was a long, very hot day...

Outside the famous orphanage in Guadalajara... we found statues that were really fun to play on... so we took pictures. I'll have to show the rest to those lucky few of you who actually want to see them... lol.

All in all it was a very nice weekend and I enjoyed getting to spend time with my friends from here... I think it is difficult to get to know an entire city in two days... but we saw quite a bit while we were there. It was a 3 1/2 hour trip both ways on a bus, and a lot of time finding taxis and other methods of traveling around such a large place... but it worked out, and we now know how to handle bargaining with taxi drivers (although we did have one who spoke a "little" of five different languages, and who was just the coolest guy...).

On the way home Meghan and I had a wonderful talk about spiritual matters, and then jammed out to early 90's love songs that were playing on one of the stations... good times. I took a taxi home, chatted with The Fam for a bit, and hit the bed... exhausted.

Traveling is fun... getting up at 7:30 the next morning wasn't... but hey... I survived, and I'm ready for a new week...!

Countdown: 13 days till departure time...

Learning something new every day...

Did you know that baby's are born without kneecaps?

How did I not know this?

An Entry in Five Scenes

A viejito dancer

More viejito dancers...

SETTING:

As I write this I am sitting outside on the patio behind Rogelio and Fernanda’s house, listening to the five million dogs in the neighborhood croon their evening goodbyes, and wondering where to start filling this blank screen as the overcast sky darkens with every passing second and mosquitoes suck my blood (I just got bit on the eyelid... how does that happen?). However, the for real setting is this weekend... and five million miles of streets.

CHARACTERS:

Me – sometimes referred to in third person terminology (usually not very endearing terminology at that), and the character who has an unusual talent for mucking up the simplest of objectives.

The Fam – Rogelio, Fernanda, and Booz... who were gone this weekend to Ixtlan, and therefore (unfortunately) not a part of many events.

The Club – Meghan, Eileen, Nimrod, Quico, Esteban, Nick, Eric, Edgar, and Yours Truly... whose talent for making conversation a “mosh-pit” instead of an “art” is unparalleled.

The Aptly Named “Señor Not Appearing In This Entry” – who I ripped off from Monty Python, and... sadly... will not be appearing in this entry.

SCENE 1: (A cafe in the eastern part of town on Friday night. The Club have just arrived – nine of them – to this tiny eating place, and are toasting in honor of the imminent exodus of two beloved members: Quica and Esteban.)

‘Tis true that we are losing two members of the Conversation Club – Stephen and Henrietta – the couple from Lawrence, Kansas. Since it was their last night we all decided to go to the cafe for cena and say goodbyes over sopa torasca and white wine. After a jolly good time, the predominant use of “Spanglish,” and many hugs, we sent our beloved friends on their way (after promising to have dinner with them in Lawrence when I return to Kansas). I do suppose all good things – and groups – must come to an end eventually, but it was a lot of fun to have them here.

Sniff, clear the throat, move on.

(Blackout.)

(End of scene.)

*Number of blocks walked: approximately 15 (in the U.S. – approx. 30)

SCENE 2: (Saturday morning... early... very early... like 5:30 a.m. early. “Me” has awakened/awoken to the sound of hurried preparations. “Me” drags herself out of bed, groaning at the pathetic twinges in her muscles, and heads downstairs.)

“The Fam” was almost ready to depart to Ixtlan, and I wanted to see them off. So... bleary-eyed, stumbling a bit, and certainly not very close to coherent, I gave hugs, wished them well, watched as the vehicles departed, and then stumbled back upstairs.

To bed. To beautiful, peaceful sleep.

To waking up and banging my head on the wall as my Ipod alarm went off unexpectedly. Fortunately there were no black eyes this time.

I did laundry, read a bit, puttered around, and finally got ready to head downtown for the desfile – Eileen, Meghan, and I had planned on meeting up at Eileen’s, watching the parade for a bit, and walking around to the see the street vendors.

When I arrived downtown it was packed – which I expected. I couldn’t cross the main street (where the parade was going to be) to get to Eileen’s house because the people and chairs were five to seven chairs thick – which I hadn’t expected. I walked until I could find a break in the people, and managed to squeeze my way through (also managing to knee an old man in the back and poke a woman in the stomach with my umbrella... bad karma).

I finally made it to Eileen’s house, we got ready, and then headed downtown to stand in the blazing sun with a million other people. Sweating profusely, not really shaded that well by my umbrella (especially since it was pushed out of the way by a tiny woman carrying the biggest umbrella I have ever seen in my life), and dying of thirst, we finally headed to look at some of the other sights (since there were – literally – almost two hours of different schoolchildren that marched by before we got to see the horses and costumed riders... the interesting part).

Eileen got cucumbers, onions, and some other slimy-looking thing (we couldn’t identify it) with chili sauce, Meghan got gespacho (a mixture of three fruits with chili sauce and cheese sprinkled on top), and I got pomegranate seeds in a cup (a delicacy during festivals, apparently). Eileen couldn’t eat the slimy-looking thing, Meghan thought the gespacho was terrible, and the seeds dried out my mouth so much that I was having trouble talking...

It was time to have good food and water.

We ended up stopping at a cheap street cafe and getting enchiladas and tacos... the food wasn’t that great, but we were able to sit down and rest for a bit. Just after we had paid our bill we looked outside and it was starting to rain – not rain – flood. The water started coming down so hard and so fast that even standing under the eves of the cafe wasn’t keeping us dry. I had my umbrella, and after waiting fifteen minutes (with no let-up) I decided to risk it as I headed back to where the buses would take me home.

I sloshed through the streets where the water was streaming along, and finally made it to the main square. I watched as a torrent of water (at least a foot deep) flowed along the street I needed to cross. I looked down at my sandaled feet, at the rushing water, and then at the people crowding under and through the arched (but dry) passageways. I went for the passageways.

Bad mistake.

It took me twenty minutes to walk a block, crowded as everyone was under the arches... and once again “personal space” wasn’t allowed to be an issue. I wondered if I leaned on the lady in front of me and let the man behind me shove on if I could just ride the wave of people – but remembered various passages in novels where people were trampled to death and decided that would be an even worse idea than walking this direction in the first place.

However... I finally made it home (after an hour-long bus ride), collapsed onto the couch, and watched television for the rest of the night. Speaking of which, Ethan Hawke was on “Inside the Actor’s Studio” – an old episode – which made life happy for a bit; and Helen Mirren was starring in "Prime Suspect"... proving yet again how much “cooler” you are if you have a British accent.

Alas, alack... fie thereon.

(Blackout.)

(End of scene.)

*Number of blocks walked: approximately 30 (in the U.S. – approx. 60)

SCENE 3: (In the shower... “Me” has another brilliant run-in with the upstairs shower, and realizes that no matter what – she will lose.)

I woke up Sunday morning, had a very nice prayer and reading time, watched an easy-listening group (“New Morning”) on the Film&Arts channel, and then part of a ballet (called “Danza” if you’re interested... I wasn’t for very long), and then decided to take a shower since I was meeting Meghan and Eileen at 2:00 to listen to music in the town square.

I turned on the shower and had water... fabulous. I waited for the water to warm up... not so fabulous. It remained freezing cold. Now, I have no idea if I am supposed to have turned on a warming switch, let it heat up ahead of time... I don’t know. But it was cold... really cold... and I doubt I have ever taken a quicker shower in my entire life.

The shower and I had words. The shower won. I am officially boycotting the shower (which will last until tomorrow morning when I need to take another one.... but in the meantime I feel vindicated).

(Blackout.)

(End of scene.)

*Number of blocks walked: Zero at this point...

SCENE 4: (Downtown Morelia, walking to the Hindu Vegetarian Restaurant with Meghan, Eileen, and Eileen’s host-mother, listening as our stomachs rumble with hunger.)

I had suggested eating at this restaurant (the same one that The Fam and I had eaten at early in my time here), and as we headed upstairs into the dining area the smells of “food, food, wonderful food” assailed our senses, and we hurried to find a sitting place. Much to our regret, the waitress informed us that they had just (literally just) run out of food since the day had been unusually busy, and the restaurant only serves one specific meal on Sundays.

So... we headed on down the street to find another place, and ended up at this great little cafe that was very, very cheap, and very, very good... we all agreed that we would be going back. After eating, we walked along the streets, and then decided to head back toward the cathedral and listen to the music that is played in the square every Sunday evening.

It ended up being just Eileen and I that walked to the square, and after purchasing gelato (which I guess is really popular in the U.S. too... it’s an “ice-creamish” yogurt mix that is fabulous) we listened to the music in the square until we were attracted to the opposite side of the cathedral by a group of men in traditional costumes getting ready to do the la danza de los viejitos (“the dance of the little old men”) – which is always talked about, and a very important tradition in Morelia.

Apparently these dancers are from outside the city and only come a couple times a year during festivals... but the dancers themselves come from a long tradition of dancers in the family, and most of the men who dance had fathers, grandfathers, and great-grandfathers that participated.

It was very cool... and very weird.

The dancers put on these masks that are painted like leering old men, and dance hunched over... letting their feet and their actions move lightning fast to the music that is played by their little mariachi band.

A little girl was standing in front of Eileen and me and was laughing and clapping until one of the dancers came too close... then she shrank away, crying and shrieking into her mother’s side.

I felt the same way... but didn’t have my mother’s skirt to hide behind. It really was very interesting, but the masks were more than a little disturbing... but... now I have seen the dance and can appreciate the tradition... as well as the humor that is a definite part of the presentation.

(Blackout.)

(End of scene.)

*Number of blocks walked: Approximately 32 (in the U.S. approx. 64)

SCENE FIVE: (The final scene... and a short one at that. “Me” has returned to her home, finished writing up her travels, and wishes to finish her current novel or watch The Last Unicorn in Spanish.)

Goodnight. Take care. Much love.

*Total Number of blocks walked: Approximately 77 (in the U.S. approx. 144)... shoot me.

(Blackout.)

(End of scene.)

Sidenote: The shower is still winning... there was no hot water this morning, The Fam haven't been home to fix it yet, and so I skipped out on the freezing douse in Glacier Lake.

(Curtain.)

(End of entry.)