Day of the Dead - The Symbols and Traditional Elements

An Altar with Many of the Typical Elements

The Day of the Dead is a rich Mexican tradition which takes place during the first two days of November, and focuses on the memory of family and friends who have passed away.  This is my third post about my limited experience with this very special holiday, and the information I give here about the symbols and traditional elements is far from complete, and comes mostly from my wife  (if it's inaccurate, I'll take the credit for poor translation!). For anyone new to the holiday, however, it will give you an idea of what you'll see if you ever have the opportunity to experience the Day of the Dead.  If you know more about it, feel free to share info in the "comments" section below.


The items I list here are usually found on the altars, set up in homes for deceased family members, and seem to have a special association with the Day of the Dead and the emotional, spiritual and community significance of the holiday.

Cempoalxochitl

This is the name from Nahuatl (language of the Aztecs) for the Mexican Marigold (meaning "twenty-flower," I guess because of the many petals), which has various spellings, and is also called the "Flower of the Dead" in Mexico, because of its strong association with the holiday and other related traditions; I've read that in Honduras, they wash corpses with water that has been boiled with the petals.

The flower is placed on the altars, and in the cemetery.

A path Leading from the Door to the Altar


This could be a line of the marigolds, or of ashes, again with the purpose of guiding the souls to their altar.


Candles

Candles are lit on the altars and in the cemetery when family members visit.  The idea is that the candles will help to light the way for the souls of the deceased when they come to visit the altars their family has built for them.


Crosses


This is a plain cross, without Christ on it, and is placed on a central point of the altar.

Pictures


Often, pictures of the person or people for whom the altar was built are placed on the altar, at the base of the cross.


Incense

Copal Resin ready to be burnt as incense

This is a special resin called copal (which is also a word from Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs, still spoken in isolated villages) which "cleanses and purifies a place and the people in the place" when burnt as an incense.



Sugar Skulls


Little skulls made out of sugar or chocolate and brightly decorated are placed on the altar, sometimes with the names of the deceased. (I assume one for each person.)  See my last post for a picture (there's a link at the bottom.)



Catrina, the Skeleton Lady

Catrina Figure in Playa del Carmen

This is an image of a skeleton dressed as an elegant, upper-class lady from about 150 years ago, and is closely associated with many images related to the Day of the Dead. The image was originally created by a Mexican cartoonist (Jose Guadalupe Posada) who used images of skeletons to make fun of the Mexican elite upper class (hence the clothing of "Catrina.") Later on, the images became associated with the Day

In some places I have seen elaborate scenes of skeletons, like an entire band of little skeletons, or a woman skeleton sewing; this depends on the career or hobby of the person in question, or it could be a skeleton couple, for example, if the couple has passed away.  Sometimes they are a part of the altar, sometimes as separate Day of the Dead decorations.

Water

As with the next few items, glaseswater is placed on the altar for the convenience of the the souls who visit. Many people authentically believe that the souls of their family and friends come and drink the water.

Pan de Muerto

This is a round, semi-sweet bread, coated in sugar on top, and sometimes has a mild orange flavour.  There is also the form of several "bones" shaped with the same bread crossed on the top of the bread.  Besides being placed on the altar, it is sold in very large amounts during October and November, and eaten as a special seasonal treat.  Personally, I love it. Some people find it too dry, but this depends entirely on which bakery you buy it at.

Mole

Mole is a rich, dark, thick sauce, made out of chocolate, ground chilis, sugar, peanuts and many other ingredients.  A small bowl of this sauce is placed on the altar, as a part of the meal for the deceased.  Other food items can also be included, usually the favourite food of the person who has passed away.  Even non-food items can be included such as beer, wine, cigarettes, etc.

While mole is served plain here, it is also a very common food in Mexico, normally eaten with chicken and tortillas.  Someday I'll do another post about mole, one of my favourite foods.

Dry, Sugar-Coated Squash


This also for the souls of the dead, in case they are hungry.  This is a candy-like treat that is very traditional in Mexico but I actually don't too many Mexicans who like it.  I tried it once and I think it was OK, but I like just about everything.

There are many other symbols and elements which are often included in various parts of the country.  Thanks to my wife who helped me put this much together about the tradition she is most familiar with!

To read my first post, which is a brief introduction about my experience with the Day of Dead in Cuernavaca, click here.
To read my second post, which was a brief overview of a few different areas where there are interesting traditions, click here.

Tomorrow I will write about the altar we are putting up this year.

The Day of the Dead - Different Traditions throughout Mexico

Cemetery in Mixquic on Nov. 2

While I'm hardly an expert, and my experience with the varying traditions of the Day of the Dead is limited, I've heard of a few interesting traditions that I feel are worth sharing.  If you are not Mexican, I'm sure these will be intriguing; if you are Mexican, I'm sure you will know a lot more, but read on anyway, and maybe you can add, expand or correct in the comments section below.

In the first post I wrote on the topic yesterday, I described the traditions in small village at the edge of Cuernavaca, which is just south of Mexico City (click here to read).  I've heard that even within the state of Morelos, the small state surrounding Cuernavaca, that there are variations in traditions.


Mixquic, Mexico City

Just a little north, at the south end of Mexico City, there is a very famous and strong tradition in a community called Mixquic in the borough of Tlahuac, not far from Xochimilco (which is famous for its canals, gardens and the colouful boats which visitors can hire for tours of this area.)  The traditions are very similar to those described in Ocotopec in my post yesterday but involves a larger community.  On November 2, in the afternoon, the church bells ring, and a large portion of the population, as well as visitors, make their way to the cemetery in a large procession, where they light the candles at the graves.  The sight is spectacular, and the experience is inspiring.

Lake Pascuaro, Michoacan

Janitzio on the Day of the Dead

Last night, two neighbors were telling me about a very special procession in the central Mexican state of Michoacan, about 4 hours northwest of Mexico City.  In a large lake near the state capital (Morelia) there is an island called Janitzio, which can be identified by the large statue of Jose Maria Morelos, a hero of Mexico's war of independence.  On November 2, the procession to the cemetery for many locals around the lake involves travelling by boat across the lake to the island, which is also an incredible experience.

Yucatan Peninsula

I know that on the Peninsula is cities like Merida, people also make their altars and have similar traditions.  The Mayan people, who are still a very distinct native group in the area, celebrate their own version of the tradition called Hanal Pixán.  I don't know much about the celebration, but I believe that the authentic celebration can probably only be found in small villages.  One of these days, I'll ask a Mayan priest about it, who owns a variety store at the other end of town.

In Playa del Carmen, where I live now, the traditions are weaker, I guess mostly because the people here have come from all over Mexico, and no longer share neighbors with the same traditions.  On Oct. 29 there was a parade down the main tourist street with children and teens from the local schools dressed in costumes related to the Day of the Dead, which was nice.

Parade in Playa del Carmen

One of the nearby theme parks, Xcaret, does a fairly good job of presenting Mexico's culture, history and traditions to tourists, and has a special presentation for the Day of the Dead, which includes music, altars and a reconstruction of a traditional cemetery with the procession.  There is also food and music, and each year they present specific traditions from a different region - I think this year it's Chiapas.  I've heard the presentation is very good, and if you're ever down here, it would be worth the visit.

However, my personal recommendation is is to participate in one of the community traditions if you can.  Instead of just seeing and taking pictures, you can take part, leave candles for the deceased and accompany the family; it may not be appropriate to take pictures, but sometimes, if you know the people, it might be OK.  In any case, you gain an experience - if a picture is worth a thousand words, an experience is worth a thousand pictures. (I guess photographers might not agree ...)

If you're not Mexican, and you visit during this time, find someone who knows the traditions and knows how you can participate.  Many Mexicans are eager to share their traditions with friends from other countries.

If you want to read yesterday's blog, an introduction to my experience of the Day of the Dead, click here.
Tomorrow, I'll  talk about some of the symbols involved. (Click here to read.)

Day of the Dead

An Altar at a Public School in Playa del Carmen

The Day of Dead in Mexico is probably my favorite holiday.  It's much deeper, and a richer tradition than Halloween, which at best is fun with costumes and candies, and at worst is part of the ever more exaggerated commercialism and consumerism that has people buying jack-o-lanterns in July and Santa Claus costumes in September.

The Day of the Dead is something different.  It's a day to remember family and friends who have passed away.  There are no ghouls or goblins, but lots of memories.  For some people the memories are overbearing, and so they choose not to participate.

The basic idea is that on the nights before November 1 and November 2, people make "altars" for their lost family members, which include pictures of the person, candles and food, including mole (a dark, rich sauce made of chili, chocolate and many other ingredients), "pan de muerto," which is a special bread made for this season, the favorite food of the deceased, glasses of water, little sugar or chocolate skulls and burning incense.  Other favorite items can also be left, such as beer, wine or cigarettes.  A special flower for this occasion, the cempoalxóchitl (I don't know what it is in English, or even Spanish - this looks like an Nahuatl name to me) is placed on the altar.  Usually a special altar is made for any person who has passed away during that year, and one other combined for all others from past years.

November 1 is dedicated to children who have passed away, and November 2 to adults.  The traditional belief is that the souls of the dead will come to visit the altars dedicated to them, and drink the water.  This is also the reason for leaving their favorite items.

Pan de Muerto

One of my wife's great aunts claims that she actually saw the procession of souls, in the form of lights, leaving the cemetery entering their respective homes; she says she heard their voices as well.  Very few people have had experiences such as this one, but many people do believe that the souls come to visit.

There are different traditions throughout the country.  The only one I have experience directly is that of the state of Morelos in a village on the edge of Cuernavaca, called Ocotopec.   Many homes are open to the community to come and pay respects to the deceased, and offer consolation to the family.  Homes which are open will offer visitors tamales and a hot fruit punch, made with sugar cane, apples, hibiscus, tamarind and some other small fruits.  Some have music or bands, if music was really important.  Visitors leave a long white candle for the deceased, which are later lit, with the idea of lighting the way for the spirit.

The same night that the altars are placed, family members will go to the cemetery to accompany the deceased, often singing songs or praying.

A Very Decorated Sugar Skull

I clearly remember visiting one man's altar, which had been placed in the village church by his brother.  While the altar was relatively simple, the elderly man spent a good deal of time telling us about he life of his brother; it was shortly after my arrival in Mexico, so I didn't understand much, but I was impressed by the time and dedication of sharing part of his brother's story with us.

I also remember the tamales and punch from the homes we visited - they were delicious!  More importantly it was incredible to see the participation of so much of the community.

Most important to me was the significance of the entire holiday; the celebration of the memory of close people.  I believe that this tradition sharing their memories with the community can help people with grief.  Sometimes it is a personal experience, and the altars are private. For some people this can be more helpful.

I'll write more about the Day of the Dead between now and November 2.
Click here to read about some traditions throughout Mexico.

Looking for a pot of Gold? Perhaps a heart of Gold? Grandpa Pedro, Part 2

Don Pedro (centre) and his sister and brother - about 6 years ago

We all know legends about leprechauns and rainbows and pirates sailing the Caribbean in search of a hidden treasure, but have you ever met anyone who is really looking for hidden gold?  And I don't mean collectors who use metal detectors to find the next coin or artifact, I mean someone who really wants to find a real chest of gold and get rich from it.

Grandpa Pedro is one of those people.  He is authentically convinced that somewhere in the steep, narrow valley owns and lives in there is gold that was hidden during the Mexican Revolution, which began exactly 100 years ago.  Pockets of the revolution were still going on when he was born, but I guess by the time he was a child, legends of the recent Revolution and its upheaval were fresh in everyone's mind.  I can't comment on the plausibility of a rich estate owner coming to hide their gold in this very isolated  valley in the hills, but he is convinced that there is gold hidden there, and has searched all over for it.  From what I understand, many people in countryside areas used to hold similar hopes.

Grandpa Pedro's Work

My wife's grandfather is a very hardworking man.  As I said in the last post about him, from what I understand, there hasn't been a day in his life that he woke up later than 6 in the morning.  His entire life, he has raised animals - cows, chickens, turkeys, goats, pigs among others - and grown crops including corn, beans and squash (a tradition that seems to be as old as the western world itself, and shared by native people throughout North America.)  He also has an orchard of plums, peaches, guavas and a number of other fruit which I have never seen in Canada, I wouldn't be able name.

My wife remembers him making her swing in the trees of the orchard, which had the added thrill of swinging out over a steeper drop! (Pretty much everything there is a hillside.)  She spend most of her childhood summer vacations at the farm, and would climb up into the trees to eat the fruit.  These memories of the time with her grandpa are among her fondest.

He also cares for the home's water supply, which is captured from rainwater in the concrete cistern which I mentioned in the post about homes in this valley, or brought through a hose from a nearby stream.

A Young Pedro Lopez, During His Military Service

I remember on my first visit, I was determined to help him with some of his work, so I joined him to walk out to spring the water was fed into a hose.  I was entirely useless.  Any kind of job on that farm are jobs that people are never taught; they learn them as children watching and participating.  Having to deal with an adult who would need to be "taught" these things was probably just absurd to him.  (It's like making "mole," a very delicious and traditional dish - all the old ladies know how to do it, but they wouldn't be able to produce a recipe; it's something they learned growing up in that setting.)  But Grandpa Pedro didn't seem to be bothered, and simply went about his business fixing something that he had fixed a thousand times before, telling me some stories about the farm along the way.  Once when I asked how I could help, he just kept explaining whatever it was he was explaining and finished the job.  It didn't look difficult, but I'm sure experience made it look easier than it was.

I would love to go during harvest or seeding time some time to work with him, but I would probably have to be insistent in having him show me how to do it.  The unfortunate part is that he does all of this alone, and right now he's getting to old to finish it all by himself.  In our modern society, people retire 25 years younger than he is right now.

Grandpa Pedro's Family

Why does he do it all alone?  Something that struck me about the place, only at the end of my second visit, is that there are no young men.  There are children, there are women of all ages, and there are old men, but there are very few males between the ages of 15 and 60.

At the end of my second visit, my wife and I stopped by her great aunt's house.  Her grandson was there working on the house.  I chatted with him in English, because he had been in Texas for the last 2 years, and for 4 years before that.  He had come back to see his wife, his 2 year-old daughter who he had never seen before, and to do some work on the house.  He was heading back again in 2 months.  I can't confirm, but I guess his wife would have been expecting again by the time he left.  That is where the young men are; in Texas, California and other parts of the U.S., working.

The young women have their children back in the village.  The one's who are lucky, get cheques sent in the mail. The one's who are luckier (in their own perspective) get to join their husbands in the U.S.

(Meeting these people first hand, knowing their history, and seeing their homes, I realize that U.S. policy makers, conservative and liberals alike, are 100% disconnected with the reality of these people, and are therefore incompetent to solve the problem of illegal immigration, which WILL continue despite any wall, despite Arizona's new, strict measures.  But I'll save the political commentary for another post.)

One unfortunate young lady, a great niece of Granda Pedro, who used to live on his farm and take care of both the old men (her grandfather and great uncle), was abandoned by her husband.  Later she had 3 other children by other men, but never again managed to find a stable relationship.  From what I understand, this kind of situation happens all to often.

This second cousin of my wife and her four daughters, who were the only rays of youth on this farm, have now left and live in the town.  The wife of the other cousin - the young man who works in Texas - also left for town with her child, leaving the great aunt alone.  The great aunt, who couldn't take care of herself alone, moved down into the valley so her two brother could take care of her.  This is Grandpa Pedro's family now - his brother and his sister, all three of them getting up their in years.  So, the crop usually gets left at least partly unharvested, and it becomes more and more difficult for them to manage.


As I mentioned the last post, when I heard about the pleasure Grandpa Pedro had in buying a new turkey, and taking care of the recently hatched chicks, I can see that the joy of life hasn't left him.  I'm also amazed that he is putting the effort to care for his aging sister when he himself needs care, or at least help in getting the work done.  I'm amazed by how much passion he has for life at his age.

For the moment, that's all I have to write.  My wife could write a book, I'm sure.  And I'm sure I'll think of more with time.  In April, we want to go visit again.  We're both eager to go back.

Don Pedro Lopez - Grandpa Himself

Don Pedro Lopez, My Wife's Grandfather

In my recent series of blogs about my wife's Grandpa's farm, I realized that I hadn't introduced one important person; her grandpa.  Of course, this man, the owner of the valley where he lives, who has never been farther than Cuernavaca, but boldly walks the streets of Mexico City with no fear of getting lost, is central to everything about that place.  He's someone I admire, so, here's some of the few things I know about him.


Grandpa's Religion

Unlike my wife and mother-in-law (his daughter) her Grandpa, whose name is Pedro, is Evangelical.  My mother-in-law had left the valley to work in the cities (first Ixtapan de la Sal, then Toluca, then Mexico City) before the Evangelical missionaries showed up, and so she has remained a faithful follower of the Catholic faith for all of her life, a dedication which she has passed on to my wife to some extent.  Grandpa Pedro, however, enthusiastically embraced the newcomers, and has become passionately opposed to Catholic beliefs. While he unquestioningly excepts my mother-in-law and my wife, he spends hours trying to convince them that they too should follow his steps.

I clearly remember one morning getting up and going to his house (we had been staying at the home of his brother about 200 meters away), entering his yard, then his porch to find him there sitting on his chair, with a pensive look upon his face, reading his Bible - I believe he learned to read only for this purpose.  He immediately invited me to sit down with him, began reading a passage to me, and explaining little bits of the sermon he had heard last Sunday.  I wish I could remember which passage it was, and what he told me about the pastor's words, but I can't.  I do remember, however, that each point returned to the fact that Catholics were on the wrong track.

Making a Strong Point

(Concerning this point, I made a few observations in that village as well as other places, concluding some points both in favor and against both the Evangelicals and Catholics in Mexico, but those belong to another post.)

I listened carefully, and asked him a question now and then, careful not to agree or disagree on any points about Catholics, since I knew that this could cost my mother-in-law hours of debate.

What amazes me about Grandpa Pedro, though, is that despite his passionate disapproval of Catholics, this in no way influenced his treatment of Catholic people.  He accepts my mother-in-law and my wife whole-heartedly to an extent that I have rarely seen among a family where one member makes a controversial religious choice (in this case to remain Catholic; all her brothers and sisters are solidly Evangelical, since they lived in the valley or nearby village when the missionaries arrived.)  As far as I know, not all of my wife's aunts and uncles are quite as accepting as Grandpa Pedro.

It is also worth noting that he hold some beliefs which seem to be outside of his religion.  Once a large beautiful rooster appeared by his house. It was around for a few days, and refused to eat, and no other animals would go near it.  One day the rooster began to crow horribly and loud, and disappeared.  His explanation was that the rooster was from the devil.  There are other stories of such animals. Although I've never seen anything that could make these seem plausible, I'm not making fun of this belief; my personal experience has led me to accept the possibility of many things I would have reject before, at least until I find some good evidence either in favor or against them.


Grandpa's Health

For the past few decades, apparently, he has had a hernia, and for this reason he would strap a small board to his belly to prevent the pain - I'm not sure how this concept works, but apparently it helped him avoid going to a hospital for these decades. The most recent news I have of him is that he was in the hospital for that hernia.  Only days after the operation, my mother-in-law complained that he refused to follow doctor's orders, and was out and about; he bought a turkey, which laid eggs.  He was excited that the eggs had hatched and was dedicating a good deal of effort to care for this turkey and the new offspring.  My wife observed that it would be next to impossible to restrict a man to his bed who has probably never in his life slept past 6 am.

Once he was stung by a scorpion, for which he went for a shot at a nearby clinic - I'm not sure exactly what is meant by "clinic;" this could be someone's living room.

Other than this, as far as my wife knows, his health has been perfect for the 30 years she can remember.

Grandpa's House - I described this in another post. Click Here to read it.

Well, I'm out of time to write today, but I'll definitely add a second part, discussing items such as Grandpa Pedro's work, his family, and his continuous, but unsuccessful search for a hidden treasure (which comprises of gold lost during the Mexican Revolution.)

To read all the stories I've written so far about my experience on Grandpa Pedro's farm, Click Here.

How often would you use this?

The Banana Containter - With a Fork!

First of all, this has nothing to do with living in Mexico. It’s just something fun to write about! One little form of pointless entertainment I have is to look through those catalogues that people circulate from family to family, or are tucked into the pocket in the seats in airplanes (the place where I first discovered this game) to find, what seems to me, the most absurd item for sale.

Yesterday a neighbor gave my wife this catalogue (they seemed to be passed around among women, I have no theory to explain why; there are as many men who buy nicknacks like these as women.) After my wife excitedly drew my attention to an object that I found perfectly useless, I started with my little game of finding the most fun and pointless object, and I found this banana container. There was one other object which came close in pointlessness (a pair of padded tweezers used to clean glasses – those special cloths from the optometrist do just fine, there’s no need for a special invention) but lacked the “fun” aspect of the banana container. If you use tweezers like that, and you actually find them to work better, let me known; I’ll take back my words.

Let me explain the theory; a normal and very useful part of the development of civilization is that specialized tools are created to make jobs easier. Hence, using kitchens as an example, we have waffle irons, coffee makers and potato peelers, in addition to the frying pans, stove top pots and knives, each of which could be used satisfactorily in the case that we didn’t have the other gadgets. But all so far are useful, if you consume waffles, coffee and potatoes frequently enough.

Likewise, instead of just bags and generic containers, someone managed to invent a half-sphere, round bottomed container in which a cut tomato or onion could be stored in, air tight, with a minimal amount of air around it, preventing the cut edge from turning brown or slimy, as they tend to do if left open in the fridge. They also keep the smell of onions from filling the fridge. So far, we are still within the realm of usefulness, for anyone who keeps tomatoes and onions in their fridge every week.

However, somewhere in the world, there seems to be extra money floating around that the rest of us don’t know about; someone is getting paid to take these ideas and extend them to such a specific use that they can’t possibly used for anything else, like this banana container.  They get put into these catalogues.

By the time you get to something this specific, you can no longer justify it by how often you eat bananas. I eat at least two bananas every day, as do my wife and son (along with bread, it’s probably the single food item we eat the most of,) and I would not be able to justify buying this thing on any rational grounds. We also send bananas to school with our son, but instead of fretting about squashing the banana, or wishing we had a banana shaped container, we take 30 seconds to cut them up and put them in a small, round air-tight Tupperware container (which one of my aunts very kindly gave as a gift to my son – thank you if you read this!) We also add granola and yogurt. The banana doesn’t go funny or get brown.

Besides this, did you notice the little fork that clips into top of the lid?  Who eats a banana with a fork? Please tell me if you do, and I will buy you one of these containers.

Now, just to let you know, I would possibly buy this container, just because it crosses the line so far, that it’s fun. So, if you ever invite me to your birthday or wedding, and I don’t know what to get you, you might end up with one of these banana containers. (Only if my wife doesn’t know you; she wouldn’t let me do this to anyone she knows.) If you would like one of these, let me know, and let my wife know so she knows it’s a serious gift.

I estimate that 55% of the objects in these catalogues have only one use, and cannot possibly used for anything else. I assume this is how the catelogue gets most of its sales – no matter how many of their nicknacks you buy, you always need another one. Of those 55%, about half of them are funny, like the banana.

Of the other 45% which have more than one use, I can see the point of about half of them, and there are about 2 things I would actually buy when they fit into my budget. The only problem is I can’t remember what they were.

This is all just my opinion; I know a bunch of people who would love many of the nicknacks in this kind of catalogue – even the ones I consider pointless. That’s not such a bad thing; it makes it easier to buy birthday presents for those people.

A Different Kind of Beachfront Town - My Visit to Progreso

One of Progreso's Markets, where I talked to Bill

Being more used to Playa del Carmen and the nearby areas, visiting the town of Progreso was interesting in the sense of seeing a beachfront community that was very different from the upscale, luxury, beachfront "paradise" idea that people prefer over here. Progreso is located on the north shore of the Yucatan Peninsula near Merida.

My impression of the town was defined by two people. One was Bill. Bill is Canadian, about 50 years old, originally from an English speaking town in Quebec, who has been living in Progreso for 15 years. I was crossing a road and noticed a tall, thin man, about 50 years old, clean shaven and dressed in comfortable clothes (neither expensive brand names, nor badly worn or old), and a somewhat broad rimmed cloth hat; when he lifted the hat to wipe the sweat from his brow (which he did often), I saw he had short, light-red hair which matched his light-skinned, freckled complexion. In a town where 99 percent of the people I had seen were Mexican, he stood out, as I'm sure I did, and making eye contact he immediately said hello. He seemed ready to talk, as though we new each other.

Progreso is a still a small Mexican town, and the people – Mexicans and foreigners alike – are welcoming and friendly. Making eye contact with someone on the road is enough to prompt a friendly discussion. It is very relaxed, and everyone seems to have time.

First we talked about where we are from – typical of most Canadians from other parts of the country, when I told him I was from Southern Ontario, he answered with a polite, "Oh yeah," (which really means, "that's too bad.")

Since moving to Progreso, he had been buying old homes and fixing them up to resell. When I asked him what he did for fun, he said that he plays basketball, holding up the jersey he was carrying on his shoulder. Thinking of the Playa del Carmen crowd which tends to hang out according to nationality, I asked if he played with other Canadians or Americans. He said that he plays with a Mexican team. A friendly handshake and a warm smile ended the conversation, and he was off to his basketball game. Absolutely no rush.

While I do like Playa del Carmen, the feelings of the laid-back beachfront community or the procrastinating Mexican town no longer exist. This is both a bad thing and good thing – a bad thing when you want to enjoy that cafe-free lifestyle where nothing really matters, a good thing when you want to get something done, like having your home built, or, in the case of Bill, renovated.

The other person that helped define my the impression of the town was a cafe owner. Just off the town square, there is a cafe which proudly boasts that it was founded in 1895. I knew of places in Toronto that had been founded in the 40s, but had passed through the hands of various owners. This was not the case here. Sitting down with a cup of coffee, I began chatting with the waiter, who, seeing that I was interested in learning something more about this cafe's history, went for the owner, who explained that the cafe has been in her family since its founding.

The Beach Downtown

She then gave me a tour of a series of old paintings and photos depicting the town's history. For each one, she clearly explained where the image was, and how it had changed since then. For someone who loves all kinds of history, this was a real treat. The explanations were also short and concise, but very informative.

"If I weren't working today," she concluded, "I'd take you on a tour of these places myself." And I believe she would have. The Mexicans in this town are very welcoming of foreigners. This lady proved that it's not just money; I had only bought a coffee.

Most business owners, like this lady, were very relaxed, and took time to talk to visitors. Down on the beachfront there was a restaurant/bar where many retired Americans and Canadians hung out. These people were a slightly different style from Bill; they liked to spend their time in the bar, chatting with their old friends rather than play basketball. They were the only people I met who seemed worried that too many "gringos" were showing up to spoil the small Mexican town they had discovered and made their home for the past 20 years. When I sat down for breakfast there, the owner recognized me from the night before (I had had dinner there) and sat down to have a coffee, read a newspaper and chat. He didn't ask if it was OK, or if I minded; for me, it was great, and I assume in that town, it's just how you do things.

One of the old Homes, Ready to Be Renovated!

The town is old and there are a lot of classic stone homes, some falling apart with only a sad facade left half standing as a memory of something that was once beautiful, others fully restored by people like Bill with beautiful woodwork. Most of the town is defined by those typical Mexican one-storey homes with a little wooden door in the middle and large window to one side, colourfully painted, but with the paint peeling off because of humidity. This isn't necessarily a sign of neglect; the humid climate on the Yucatan Peninsula requires re-painting every year, although in some cases, neglect and the epidemic of procrastination are certainly a factor.

There are also some new condos and, along the beachfront outside of town, luxury homes with ultra-modern designs. There's no point in describing these, since they're the same in every beachfront tourist town from the U.S. to Brazil, and don't really define anything distinct about the town. (No complaints about them, I just didn't see anything that stood out as different.)

Both Bill, the lady who owned the cafe, and the restaurant owner all said that starting in November a lot more retirees show up from Canada mostly, and some from the States who live there for only 6-8 months ("snowbirds"). It would be interested in talking to some of these to see people to see what inspired them to choose Progreso as their winter home, and if, like Bill, they hang out with the locals.

The Boardwalk Bench - The Lights of The Town's Long Pier are Vaguely Visible

The town's beach wasn't as soft as the beaches in Playa del Carmen, since it was covered by shells, but I prefer the design of the beachfront area; directly on the beach, there were little thatched roof shades with chairs and tables under them. Next there is a long walkway (a boardwalk or promenade) which had a concrete bench running the entire length of the walkway, about 1 km, perfect for sitting down and relaxing. Then there is a road, and, on the other side of the road, restaurants, stores, hotels, parks, etc; the beach is open and has easy access for everyone. The townspeople as much as the tourists can enjoy it fully. Surprisingly, it was also very clean; some beaches with eating and sitting areas on them end up with a lot of garbage, but not this one.

The people I talked to told me that about twice a week a cruise ship shows up, and the town is full of American and Canadian tourists, apparently so much that you can't even walk down the beach.

Overall, people say there's not much to do in Progreso. Personally, I enjoyed it, though. I love the fact that the people are so welcoming, and will always take time to talk to you. I'm someone who can be entertained by a good conversation much more than by expensive entertainment. The history which is visible throughout the town is also appealing for me. While it obviously can't compare to a place like Mexico City, it has a few more layers than the resort towns over by Cancun.

Coffee, Wonderful Coffee!

Moka Pot

I love coffee; I'm a little picky about coffee styles, but in the absence of my favorite kinds of coffee, I'll drink just about any kind of coffee (with less enjoyment.)  The coffee I like best are dark roasts, brewed strongly.  Now and then I like espresso, but what I drink most often is the strong coffee made in the stove-top coffee makers known as Mokka pots (see the picture.)  For homemade coffee, I also like press coffee makers.  Of course, the standard drip-pot coffee makers do the trick as well.

In Mexico, I've used all three with Mexican coffee.  Mexican coffee suits my tastes really well.  Most that I've tried is dark roast and has a really rich flavor.  Flavors vary from region to region as well - Veracruz and Chiapas are two of my favorites.  On top of being delicious, it's priced really  inexpensive; one reason for this is that it's produced within Mexico, and not very commercialized.  The other reason is that many Mexicans (although definitely not all) have a prejudice against their own domestic produce - an assumption that what's foreign is better.

This is were I enjoyed my morning coffee in Cuernavaca

This attitude led to one of the biggest absurdities I've ever encountered.  When we lived in Cuernavaca, a smaller city just south of Mexico City, my wife's boss would make a cup of coffee for us every morning when we arrived at her work (a historic photo archive). She would brew a wonderful dark roast which she bought in a nearby tourist village called Tepoztlan (where we got married).  The coffee was amazing!   Then one day we arrived to the news that she had bought better coffee. When we tried it, we found it so bitter and harsh, we could hardly finish our cups.  Of course, being polite, we forced it all down. After my wife and I had thrown some concerned looks at each other, she asked her boss about her magical new discovery.  Delighted, excited and proud, she pulled out a large can of Folgers.

FOLGERS!  Can you believe it?  I almost died of shock.  For one thing, I couldn't believe that this was her improvement.  No offense if you drink Folgers, but it just doesn't match up in any way to the small-production Mexican coffees.  If you do make it, you simply cannot make it that strong, it's just too bitter.  Another thing was the horror that if I continued to accept her morning coffees, every morning my expectations of having some of the best coffee I had ever tried, would be disappointed by Folgers.  The morning coffee visits had become a pleasurable part of my daily routine, sitting down in a very relaxing natural setting with my wife, her boss and an expert on colonial churches for some good conversation.  (This was after finishing my morning shift of teaching English classes around 10:30). Later that day my wife, who had investigated this change for the worse in depth, explained that her boss was certain that it was much better coffee; it was from the States.  How couldn't it better?  I lost some faith in humanity at that moment ... (well, OK, not really, but I was disappointed!)  I did keep going for the visits, but I  started "cutting down on caffeine," taking only half a cup.

The Market in Cuernavaca where I used to buy my Coffee

While we lived in Cuernavaca, I bought my coffee in the central market; there was little shop where they received green coffee in big bags from Veracruz.  They roasted the coffee fresh every day, and the aroma near that part of the market was one of my favorite parts of  my weekly shopping trips!  The only other place where I remember the smell of freshly roasted coffee so strong and rich is one corner of Kensington Market in Toronto where there are several roasters.  The shop in Cuernavaca sold various grinds (fine, medium, course) and tones (light, medium, dark.)  I bought the medium grind, dark roast for my moka pot, or fine dark roast for "cafe de olla," a traditional Mexican style of brewing coffee.  It cost about $7/kilo, which converts to about $3/pound.  Virtually the same coffee in Kensington Market, Toronto (also imported green from Veracruz and roasted on site) cost $10/pound.  I don't believe that even a giant can of Folgers in Walmart would cost much less then $7/kilo, and even if it did, it's a price I'd be very willing to pay.

These days I buy little packets of ground coffee from a vendor who has a little stand set up on the back of his pickup near the city's main hospital (a common way of running business in Mexico).  It's good coffee, but I miss the experience of the aroma of roasting coffee.  If anyone ever opens a coffee roasting shop in Playa del Carmen, that person will eternally be my hero.

I could write much more about coffee, or just coffee in Mexico, but I'll have to save those for another day.  In the future you can look forward to a post about "cafe de olla" as well as the home-grown, home-roasted coffee on my wife's grandpa's farm.

What's the best coffee you've ever had?  Just don't say Folgers! (Sorry for picking on Folgers, but that experience in Cuernavaca has left it branded eternally as the coffee I hate.)

Where's your adventurous spirit?

While yesterday's idea was a bit of a flop (trying to get a bunch of people to answer a question)  a lot of people did take a look at that post and others, and the one answer I did get (from Todd) was really good.  Thanks Todd.

In that reply, Todd talked about the adventurous spirit that drew people like us to Mexico.  So, today I'm going to talk about the adventurous spirit and living in Mexico.  I'll start by talking about some things Todd mentioned, and connect them to my own experience, starting each point with a quotation from him.

"I have a touch of adventurous spirit in me. That´s what started it all."

• This definitely started it all for me as well. I was all ready to start a degree program for graduate studies, and I decided to head down to Mexico City for a 3 week vacation, as one last adventure before getting more serious about life. That 3 week vacation has turned into 4 years, and many new adventures have stemmed from this one.

"Every day it seems like there is some new challenge to face."

•  I met my first challenge when I met my wife (my main motivation for staying past the 3 weeks;) I didn't know Spanish and she didn't know English.  Since then, I think I have come across many new challenges, even when there's no adventure.  While it's definitely a challenge to be in a different country, there's something about Mexico that constantly presents life with new challenges.  My wife always says Mexico is the country where "everything happens and nothing happens."  Everything seems to be going wrong, and be far to complicated, and then suddenly you realize that life goes on, and it none of meant as much as you thought.  At that point you're ready for the next challenge.  This applies to everything from government bureaucracy to trying to help with social problems.  While this way of thinking can be frustrating when you want to see real change, I believe it's what keeps Mexicans sane.

"Moving to another country with such a different culture was a little scary (ok, a lot scary)"

• I'll have to be honest; I wasn't scared.  I don't think I'm a courageous person, I think I just got lost in the excitement and adventure.  I also had the fortune of being with really supportive people, who took me to some places where most people would never dare go, and to other places where most people could only dream of going; all along they told me what to do, what not to do, and made sure I knew how to stay safe.  Even when I was alone, their advice proved very valuable.

I believe that people with an adventurous spirit don't find adventure.  Adventure finds them.  One thing that was similar between my life in Canada and my life in Mexico was that I constantly found unexpected problems, places that were real "hidden gems", interesting people and excellent friends, without ever looking for any of them.  One friend in Canada pointed out that whenever we travelled together, unexpected adventures abounded - both good and bad, but almost always fun.  There is no rule about what kind of things an adventurous spirit will find; each adventurous spirit has a different star guiding it, and will a whole different kind of adventure.

There are Americans, Canadians and Europeans who come to Mexico to live in a gated community, full of other people from the same country, shop only at Walmart (they probably won't even go to Mega - a Mexican store which is very similar and has an even nicer image I would say, with comparable prices), and only go to see sights and participate in events where they are comfortably with others from their own country.  I know some of these people and have nothing against them; many are very pleasant people, and I can enjoy talking to them and spending time with them as much as with anyone.  But they don't have an adventurous spirit.

In fact, they don't really live in Mexico.  They live in a home that happens to be in Mexico, but has little more to do with this country or culture. Adventure is unlikely to find them, even in Mexico, because they don't want it.  That's fine, because they're happy that way; I'd never wish for anyone to have to tie a muffler to a car with a coat hanger on a near abandoned logging road in northern Quebec, or have to walk through the streets of Tepito in Mexico City, if that person couldn't somehow find pleasure in the adventure or telling people about it afterward; half the pleasure of an adventure is being to share the story with others (hence this blog.)

Others arrived in Mexico or other countries because of an adventurous spirit, and started off with adventures, but later lost this spirit (click here to read a blog about this.) Although I've settled down, bought a house and had a kid, adventures of a new sort have been finding me, the kind I don't have to go to the isolated countryside or city slums to find.  I'll write about these some time.

What sets Mexico apart for me is the fact of being in "another fishbowl," as Todd said, is the randomness that permeates this country - or at least what seems to me as randomness - and experiencing it in a very direct and raw way; this randomness creates both annoying bureaucracy and rich cultural variation and brings wonderful people into your life.

Do you have an adventurous spirit? Do adventures find you?  Tell me about them ...

Click here to see Todd's original comment.

Would you move to Mexico?

Today it's not really a blog post, but just a way to get some thoughts from any of you who are reading.  Just two questions, that I really hope you take a minute to answer.


If you are not Mexican, would you consider moving to Mexico?  Why or why not?
If you are Mexican, would you consider moving to another country?  Which one, and why?

To answer click here or write in the space just below this post where it says "Post a comment."

Share your thoughts;  I'll write some blogs about whatever answers you give.

Another video blog - My new closet - I made part of it!

This my second video blog about a totally different topic - a new closet we had someone build last week.  This weekend we put the woodwork in so it's now usable.  The doors are still missing, but we're very happy with our closet. Check it out in the video!

Raw Construction

  

Painting the Top



Here are some pictures of the process.  My wife did a lot of the painting on the closet itself - I only did the hard-to-reach parts, but she didn't want a picture, since she was a mess! (Look at me! Did I care?) She also moved all the stuff and re-arranged the house after!  Thanks Cecy!

By the way, I haven't been getting any comments; tell me what you think of my new closet.  It's great, isn't it?

 

Part way done





 





Done!















Thanks to my friends - a video blog

 This is a "video blog" - for a special request from one of my oldest friends, Kevin.  I missed out on the Canadian Thanksgiving, but I decided to take this opportunity to say thanks to all of my friends.

When I moved to Mexico, some friends from Canada came to my wedding exactly a year later. Thanks to all of you did.  I had lost touch with other friends; thanks to those of you who have got back in touch again.  Now, after moving even farther to the Yucatan Peninsula, friends from the Mexico City area have come to visit.  Thanks to you guys! I've met new friends, who I'm really grateful for.  In any case, I'm really fortunate to have the friends that I do; thanks for being great friends!

Grandpa's Farm in the Hills – Part 3 – The Homes

This is the third part of a series describing some of the great experiences I had visiting my wife's grandpa's farm. Part 1 was about the trip out to the hills (click here to read), Part 2 was about the food (click here to read.)



Grandpa's Adobe house

 In the valley where my wife's grandpa's farm is located, and the nearby village, virtually all homes are made of adobe. If you don't know what that is, it's a type of brick made of mud, stones some other ingredients. I'm sure a large book could be written about the variations of adobe homes. I've come across at least a complete magazine, and personally seen a dozen variations through various parts of central Mexico.

In the cities, adobe is a luxury for the rich, who pay double or more than the cost of a concrete construction to have the few craftsmen who still know the technique make the bricks and build their home.

In the isolated hills, its the building material for the poor who can't afford to have the luxury of concrete imported from the city.

It's this latter type that is important for Grandpa's farm. His two houses down in the valley that I mentioned in Part 1 were originally small but well-built adobe homes with dirt floors and red clay tile roofs. Arriving to grandpa's home, where he lives alone, we went through a tall, narrow wooden gate, and along a walkway whichh led to his patio, which was a long rectangle of about 2 meters by 10. On one side of the patio was a cistern (the one luxury item he had built out of concrete!) and on the other side were two doors, entering to the bedrooms. At the end was the kitchen.

Visitors are received on the patio, where there are a few wooden chairs, and a short wall wide enough to sit on. Meals are eaten in the kitchen, where in one corner is a table for grinding corn, and also the stove, which has a space for fire below it (the gas stove you see in the picture here is not connected and doesn't work.)



In the Kitchen (the gas stove is just ornamental)



Time has take its toll on the two homes, and now some of the bricks are cracked, and most of them have become quite worn down. Usually a clear sort of varnish is used to protect them, but since the only two men living on the farm are my wife's grandpa and great uncle, who are both getting up there in years, maintenance becomes ever more difficult.



The clay tiles on the roof are held up by a wooden framework. Some of the tiles were also in need of repair. In some parts of the house, paper or other materials are used to section of the living area from "attic." If not, you can see straight up to the clay tiles. Dry corn is also stored in this area. Sometimes roosters stay up there; I remember on my second visit that a rooster woke us up at about 5 am crowing directly above our heads!

Washrooms are any of the fields around the house – whichever one you feel most comfortable going to.



Adobe is comfortable, keeping a house cool during the heat of the day, and warm during the chilly nights. During the day, small, high windows let in some light, and at night candles and gas lamps were the main source of light. (He also had a flashlight which he lent us at night.)



I felt very relaxed in Grandpa's home; the only difficult part for me was at night when he took some blankets out of storage for us; since they hadn't been used in a long time, he shook the dust out – in the bedroom! Since I have allergies, I didn't react too well to this, but I knew his intentions were the best, so I did my best to block the sneezes.



My wife's great aunt, who we visited both times I went to the famr, lives nearby in a house higher up on the hill, closer to the road. Her home had been renovated by a grandson who works in the U.S. It was also adobe, but with pained, plastered walls, nice wooden window frames with shutters (no glass) and a well kept-up roof, fully closed off. This home had electricity, connected from the road, and electric lights. The basic structure was the same, but it had a larger line of bedrooms. One of the bedrooms had a large T.V. The kitchen pictured in Part 2 is in this house.

Up on the hillside next to the town's access road, those who have the money are now building concrete homes with glass windows – as I said above, this is a luxury. The grandson mentioned in the last paragraph, who renovated and paid for the renovation of the great aunt's home, worked in construction in the U.S. and spoke English OK. He complained that he would rather have a concrete home, or even better, one like they build in Texas. This, however, would have cost a fortune in that village, bringing all the materials from a city hours away; even in the city those kinds of materials are not common.



My wife and I have considered building a home in Cuernavaca (1 hr south of Mexico City) with the first floor constructed with stone, and the second out of adobe – we had seen one built this way in a nearby town. When we told her grandpa, uncles and cousins about the plan, they couldn't, for the life of them, understand why someone would pay to have a house made of adobe and stone; you only use these materials when you have no money for something better (according to them.)

We dream of living in an adobe home someday, or even out on her grandpa's farm. I don't think modern life will present an excuse to do this. It's one of those things where we'll just have to make up our mind and do it.

More to come ...

(Pictures will come later tonight)





Grandpa's Farm in the Hills - Part 2 - The Food

In Part 1 of this blog (click here to read) I described my first trip out to my wife's grandpa's farm in the isolated hills near the border of Mexico State and Guerrero State.

Two Women Making Tortillas (in a different house)

One of the items which stands out most in my memory about our visit was the food.  The food was very simple.  I believe the ingredients used for everything could be listed on half a page (corn, beef, squash, beans, onions and habanero peppers showed up regularly); yet it was some of the most delicious food that I have ever tried.

To start off, on my wife's advice based on past family visits, we bought a few kilos of dough to make tortillas from a tortilla shop in the last town.  This had been made from commercially produced corn flour.  When dinner time came, the women set the dough aside and started using a hand mill to grind corn from the farm that had been soaking in warm water during the afternoon, which they ground on a flat slab made of volcanic stone and another round tool made of the same stone - like a mortar and pestle, but different shapes.  The resulting paste was pressed into a round flat tortilla in a standard tortilla press (two flat metal or wooden plates with handle attached to one to make it easy to press down), and cooked on a hot griddle.

When they took out our commercially produced dough and tasted it, then made one tortilla, and tasted it, they made some doubtful facial expressions and told us that it was no good.  I may be that it had actually gone bad, but if after I tried their homemade tortillas made from the farm's corn, I realized that even if it had been good (which it may have been) it wouldn't have lived up to their standards.

These tortillas were amazing.

One of the Girls Grinding Corn

With the tortillas we had some strips of grilled beef, beans, which had been cooked in a clay pot, and a sauce made of onions, lime juice and habanero peppers.  (I put a few drops of the sauce one taco and realized that more than one drop was too much  for me.)  While the meal sounds simple, I can't remember having many meals that were better!  It was absolutely delicious.

Later that evening we had a drink called "atole" which is made of a very fine rice or corn flour with cinnamon and sweetened.  Everyone was trying to decide who should go up to the village to buy bread (baking is not a standard part of most Mexican household cooking habits, traditional or modern.)  In the end no one went, because they realized we would have finished the atole before the person got back.  After a repetition of virtually the same situation - concerning the tortilla dough - the following visit, we realized that the food to bring to her grandpa's house was bread, not tortilla dough.  "Bread" actually refers to Mexican sweet bread which includes sugar coated rolls and pastries.  For our next visit, we will bring bread.

Another part of this food experience was that they let me help in the kitchen, grinding the corn and making the paste.  Normally, only women work in the kitchen, but since I love cooking and learning new things about any kitchen or cooking style, I couldn't resist asking.  They were all to happy to see me try to make tortillas for a few minutes.  Of course, they did it all about 10 times as fast, but it was fun.

I love coffee, and we had the pleasure of drinking coffee made from home-grown and home-roasted beans.  It was delicious, but since I love coffee so much, I'll save that for another post.

They're probably be a few more coming up about Grandpa's farm.

For Part 3, which is about the homes, click here.