La Lloroncita Three Month Hump

There's no doubt, I've hit the three month hump. The day in and day out grisuras have seeped into my mind. My bones and body ache... rechinan... squeak like an un-oiled rusty machine. The pangs of my beating heart, and the longing of my soul clumping in my throat, sinking heavy deep down into my stomach like a boulder.

A wave of childhood memories. Old yellowed polaroid film-like images of the girl I once was.  I keep imagining myself back there somewhere, bolita de angustia, staring out the window plotting her great escape from the misery around. Now I sit here in front of this window, la lloroncita contemplating the grayness and stillness of everyday. I imagine myself as one of those light-loving insects. I think about walking towards the sun the same way they fly towards the light in their ultimate demise. 

My dreams are filled with firefly nights and paleta de limón days. Swinging back and forth en mi hamaca, getting wiffs of cacao beans en el metate. I can hear the sound of mi tía Elena's hands making tortillas en el comal... Chickens running back and forth in a frenzy con su manada de pollitos as my little brother tries to catch one to hold in his tiny hands. Una oleada de viento makes the hand made cortinas that hang in every door swop up into a dance. There I stay swinging back and forth en mi hamaca a daydreaming lloroncita.

Oaxacan Tamales de Mole - Mmm GOOD!

Primer entry on a series on the Mercado Sanchez Pascuas...

LARGE PHTO of Mole Tamale, from Tamales Cande, at Mercado Sanchez Pascuas, September, 2010. 

In the last few years the Mercado Sanchéz Pascuas se a vuelto mas y mas IN. Go there any weekend or early weekday morning and you're sure to bump into the cool-ARTISTES-oaxaqueños, DF transplants, pochos (that would be us), and the larger foreign-local contingency in the mercado's vender flanked cramped blue corridors. I love mercados, always have. I remember as a little girl walking from our house to the mercado with my mother holding on to my hand. The smells, some good some bad, the colors, the commotion, have ever since reminded me of a little piece of that imaginary home one builds as a child. 

The Sanchez Pascuas is no exception. A medium/to small sized mercado, it is full of everything you might or might not be looking for. Beautiful large flor de calabaza blossoms, pan dulce, pollo criollo (free-range chicken), oaxaca pizza-sized-blue-corn tortillas and tlayudas, and of course seasonal finds like chicatanas (large ants used to make salsa in July), or the current favorite gusanos de maguey (maguey worms), and the old faithfuls like chapulines (a Oaxacan delicacy you must try... from the right vendor).

Down by the prepared food section you'll find Angelita's famous fresh fruit juices (no Jamba Juice here, we are talking straight from the source juice, no added shots of anything but natures own goodness), comedores, homemade food to go (YES! HOMEMADE DELICIOUSNESS made with fresh and seasonal ingredients), the memelita stand (promise to write about memelitas and tlayudas on another post), chocolate atole, and Cande's Tamales...

Banana leaf opened to reveal tamal de mole con pollo, from Cande's Tamales, Mercado Sanchez Pascuas, September 2010.

Oaxaca is probably most known for, (despite its extensive culinary variety), its mole, and the mole tamales at Cande's Tamales do not disappoint. Steaming hot, moist large banana leaf wrapped bundles of masa de maiz, mole (Señora Cande's personal recipe) y pollo... scrumptiousness cooked to perfection and brought to the mercado every morning from Cande's home. Although she no longer sells them herself, Señora Cande still makes and wraps each tamal like individual little presents delivered to us by her daughter and yerno (son-in-law).

Mmmm GOODNESS indeed! 

There are so many varieties of tamales, but I thought I would start with this one before moving on to the great unknown... 

The World Cup and the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

 

You would have to be living under a rock to not know the World Cup is on. Yes,  it began a few days ago, on the 11th to be exact, with the opening game of Mexico vs. South Africa (the hosting country). And well,  as a Mexico fan, all we can do is HOPE! And Maybe pray a little ;) Got my pirata selección t-shirt Sunday for $59.50 pesos and my San Juditas* candle  READY TO GO!

I still remember my first World Cup. It was, (here it comes... about to date myself...), 1986. I was a little girl living in Colima and a wave of world cup fever drenched my non-sports fan mother. During that month in 1986 my brother and I would come home to my mother's world cup ritual. The green couch in front of our old TV, a small table set up in between with a bowl of freshly made flour churritos or palomitas with chile y limón, a glass soda bottle for each one of us, 3 straws and 3 small plates. The games were held in Mexico that year... It was CRAZY!

My mother, brother and myself would sit in front of the TV watching with joy and anguish, letting out screams or simply sitting in silence when things got bad. Our stomachs full of  butterflies, the kind you feel when you hit a drop on a roller coaster ride. My brother and I would take turns jumping on the sofa, occasionally running out of the room in excitement. My mother's approach was not too different. She would often disappear unable to take the suspense to call upon a higher power to iluminar la selección! We'd find her in her room praying, imploring God and la Virgencita for a gol! She would only interrupt her prayers to tell us to start praying too! G and I would promptly close our eyes tight as could be to ask God and la Virgen with all the might our tiny bodies could muster up... Please Virgencita un gol! Un solo gol de la selección! God please give us the joy of passing to the next round! We need this!

The 85' earthquake had devastated Mexico, and the 86' World Cup offered hope, joy and triumph within an otherwise grim national outlook. We became devoted followers along with the rest of Mexico. We watched every pre-game, game, and post-game show. The TV was inundated with world cup reports around the country, reporters going into peoples homes to talk to 'everyday Mexicans.' More often than not viejita grandmothers would proudly lead a cameraman and reporter to a tattered backroom, the camera exposing paint pealing on the walls and modest looking furniture, panning to a table in the middle of the room stacked against the wall with enough candles to burn up hell itself. The viejita standing proudly, rosary in one hand selección jersey wearing baby Jesus on the other, showing off the large altar she and her family erected in honor of el Tri. The reporter noticing a saint turned on its head while the old woman explained the fate of the statue if el Tri did not score. Creyentes kneeling on all sides of the makeshift altar praying their hearts out for a gol! For a miracle!
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A yes... My dear México, where soccer, politics and religion come together like the morning after drinking a few bottles of mezcal! Bleh! But what the hell, if you can't beat em join em... and I've been part of it a long time now.

Much has happened since that beloved 86' national team. There have been some ups but mostly some downs... and well more downs... But then there was the sub-20 world cup win.  A lingering light in the future of Mexican futbol that is now upon us.

Lately however the downs are not necessarily within the cancha de futbol but off the field. I am not sure if its the gray weather, homesickness, a dwindling inventory of patience, or all of the above but I have found myself quite tired of what seems to be high schoolish behavior by grown women watching the games. I know I must sound snotty and don't get me wrong I can most certainly understand watching a game to get a few good tacos de ojos if that's your thing. Long, firm, and well toned legs are not lost on me, but let's be honest, having to hear your girlfriends GWAK! over the English, German, or Switzerland teams simply because they are BIG BRAWNY GÜEROS can be more than annoying... junior highish at best. And what's up with this obsession with whiteness? What can I say, I like futbol the game, I am not immune to piernotas, but sitting next to your husband and friends acting like giggly insecure girls with a crush is something the rest of us just don't want to see. REALLY!
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Yep, there is quite a lot of good, bad and the ugly going on and more to come. Tomorrow Mexico faces off with France! We'll enjoy the game with friends, botanas, and some chelas and will cross our fingers that we've overcome the woman-dingbat syndrome or that it is at least far far away! In the meantime I'm off to turn that San Juditas candle on...

* Saint Jude is known as the saint of lost causes, in other words he is prayed to as a very last resort and in extreme cases. 

Growing things

Mi prized Sage / Salvia, Colonia Estrella, Oaxaca de Juárez, 7 de junio, 2010.

I am in love! And like all people in love I must climb upon the highest hill and yell it out to the four winds... LOVE! LOVE! LOVE!

Nothing new I know, but lately there's a renewed fluttering in the heart, a woozing buzz that only a teenage crush can bring. Let the cheese balls roll! I'm feeling cheesy and it feels great!

The cause of so much excitement and gooey gushing is our growing backyard garden :) 

There's nothing better than reveling in the morning dew drinking coffee, observing, pruning, and rediscovering our potted wonderland before the oven-like heat wave blanket smothers the city once more.  

I love plants!  I just can't help it. I AM A PLANT FREAK, as M would say. How could I not be? I come from a long line of plant freaks. On my mother's side, I can still remember my great grandmother abuelita Rita tending to roses. My abuela Petra's overcrowded and dropping avocado tree in la Marengo (a house my grandparents lived in on Marengo street in East L.A.). And who can forget her iconic nopalitos. Then there were those spring visits to the Homedepot garden section with my mother. Oh how we would try desperately to contain ourselves like two addicts without avail! Never failed to roll out with a cart full of plants often forgetting whatever excuse we used to go inside in the first place. And then there is her garden. My mother's irises, roses, succulents, and blooming rainbow flowers. Ah and that most prized of  all her fruit trees, her fig tree. Oh how I love her fig tree! Lucious drops of sweetness... YUM! Then my father who comes from a long line of farmers, working the dry clay-like land they inherited from the revolution. Corn, beans and papaya... I'd say I am doomed to be a plant freak... Yep, I'm a goner!

It's been less than a week since we returned from Chiapas so I have been obsessed with discovering changes. The cilantro, dalia, and spinach seedlings have sprung. The ginger I planted is sprouting. My sole sage plant (my prized plant since it is hard to find here and I grew it from an old packet of seeds I found) is bigger. Oh that plant that was doing absolutely nothing a few months ago is flowering!

Forgive me for gushing but I just can't help being excited over the things that grow in our garden :]

A little music

Cilantro seedlings, Colonia Estrella, Oaxaca, June 7, 2010.

Spinach seedlings, Colonia Estrella, Oaxaca, June 7, 2010.

Ginger sprouts, Colonia Estrella, Oaxaca, June 7, 2010.

The once lazy plant, Colonia Estrella, Oaxaca, June 7, 2010.

Succulent antenas, Colonia Estrella, Oaxaca, June 7, 2010.



'Kaliman in tomato and basil,' Colonia Estrella, Oaxaca, June 7, 2010.

Estapilla

Hay temporadas en las que los días pasan desapercibidos. Desde que llegamos a Oaxaca el tiempo literalmente se nos va, corre que corre como el conejo blanco de Alicia, sin orden y sin razón. De repente me doy cuenta que apenas y percibo lo que me rodea y en donde estoy. En nuestro afán de hacer y no hacer se pierden los atardeceres color miel que acarician la cantera antes de volver al cielo en una manta de azul oscuro. Y el tiempo corre que corre.

Ultimamente tengo ganas de sentir y vivir la vida sin el hacer y no hacer que han llenado mis días estas ultimas semanas. Añoro el sentarme en el zócalo y tejer historias entre la gente. El llenarme de los colores y ruidos que habitan sus atardeceres.

Ultimamente recuerdo. Recuerdo aquellas tardes en Estapilla. En Colima. A mi abuelo sentado en una silla tejida con plástico de colores como las bolsas de mercado. Recuerdo a la gente camino a la plaza del pueblo pasando por su casa. Todo Estapilla lo conocía. Paraban un rato a platicar. Saquen una silla, dos, tres...

Poco a poco se oscurece y el tío-abuelo que es igualito al abuelo Miguel, (solo que el siempre esta contento, no carga la misma seriedad del abuelo y sonrie con sus dientes plateados) saluda desde la calle. Se escuchan los rebusnos de un burro a lo lejos. Empieza a tocar la música de un toca-discos y aulle entre el pueblo desde las bocinas de la plaza. Los arboles se llenan de pájaros. Mi tía Elena enciende la luz de una de las habitaciones y desde afuera la observo a ella y a mi tía Concha. Arriba del armario puedo ver la muñeca rubia que mi tía Concha guarda intacta protegida del polvo en su caja original. En la siguiente calle los niños juegan pero Gerardo y yo permanecemos sentados en la banqueta donde esta el abuelo Miguel... el abuelo  que no conozco y que nunca conocí. Ahora es demasiado tarde... Las gallinas se suben entre las ramas del limón para dormir. Las calles de tierra seca esperan la lluvia mientras el viento las levanta. El abuelo Miguel y sus visitantes platican, ríen, comentan, y finalmente permanecen callados observando mientras la noche nos envuelve.

Maya

La Maya, mayo 2009.

I have to confess, I have never ever thought of myself as a dog person... My father grew up in a small pueblo, a rancher, farmer, used to "los animales" not as pets but as workers. I can remember how as a child my brother Gerardo and I living in Colima and going to my father's ranch every weekend, dogs were essentially wild beast out to get us. The minute we spotted one, it was as if someone had set our butts on fire and Gerardo's little legs would wind up and we would run for the hills! (or the nearest open fence, door, etc. to escape the claws of the wild beasts). Little did we know at the time that dogs think you are playing when you run, so the more we ran, the more the rabies prone animals would run after us and the more freaked-out-of-our-minds we would be screaming and yelling and trying to climb the nearest tree if possible... ja ja ja!

So who could have told me that I, yes ME of all people, would end up going camera crazy and taking pictures of every expression a dog makes! My new found love and affection for dogs, I must say did not happen over night. It was quite literally built through tugging and pushing in close and cramped quarters over a 3 day road trip. Maya and I first met in Minnesota. Our brief encounter was cautious and suspicious on both sides. We would be traveling to Oregon and sleeping in the back of a Honda Element during our journey. I don't think I could actually visualize in my mind at the time how this would look like but like in many other cases I decided to go along and see... A word to the wise: I would not necessarily recommend this to everyone... ja ja ja!

Maya and I were basically stuck with each other. As time went by we both realized there was not much either one of us could do but make the best of the situation. Almost 9 months later I can't help but notice all of her idiosyncrasies, her hilarious ability to tell you what she wants through facial expressions and 'pujidos', I can't help but crack up at her crazy deer jumping hops when she is excited meeting completely strange dogs on our walks (mind you the dogs usually are like "who the heck are you?" as she approaches them tail wagging uncontrollably, excitement all through her body as if she had just seen her long lost friend and she was on her way to greet them!). And to see her there all wide eyed and happy as some dog a quarter of her size uncontrollably barks at her, her expression changing to one of confusion as in "?" to "are we playing yet?"

She does not bark, except when she wants to come in from her yard. She doesn't destroy or eat furniture like I thought dogs did, (she did eat a Zapatista doll when Mauricio did not take her for a walk one day... ja ja ja! and she occasionally will nibble on our books... I think she simply wants to get rid of them so we pay more attention to her... really who can blame her! ja ja ja!). She loves to smell! I do mean LOVES! There is nothing better in the world for her than going on a walk to smell all the smell there are on the way. She is extremely dorky and has a very particular way of making her bed that involves a complicated dance as she tugs and stretches it over and over in a circular fashion until she gets the wrinkles in it just right, (this could take her a while and you can see her begin to lay down when she realizes something is still not right and she tugs and stretches a bit more until it's just right). I could go on and on about how cool and crazy she is but instead I will leave that for another day, another story, another time... In the mean time here is more of Maya :)

Looking a bit perplexed, dorky, or cute (as Mauricio insists).


Giving her "I am gorgeous" look.

ja ja ja! A toda nariz... ja ja ja!