May is Time to Start Another Garden!

For my family, gardening has progressed from accidental tomato and papaya plants, to our beautiful bougainvilleas and mini rose bush in Playa del Carmen,
to last year's sunflowers here in Canada, and this year to a shared garden and a more complete house-side garden (instead of the usual flower gardens.)

Our elderly neighbour, who can no longer plant her garden alone, as asked me to help her plant and care for her garden, and has offered us the share the vegetables.  Her garden includes:

• tomatoes
• green, red and yellow peppers
• potatoes
• onions
• radishes

 and a few other items I can't remember right now.  Here are some pictures:

In the same flower garden where we planted the sunflowers last year, I planted various items since they all have space between them:

• tomatoes
• sunflowers (which will be tall and rise above the rest)
• string beans (between the tomato plants)
• marigolds (in a well-spaced line right in front)
• cilantro (between the marigolds)
• more potatoes (around the more shaded side of the house)

I don't know if I've crowded too much in, but we'll see.  It's our first experiment.  Weeding won't be a problem since it's all accessible from the front of the flower garden.  The kids helped to plant it again, and were very excited.

Unfortunately, I didn't get pictures of the kids helping, but I'll get pictures of them at harvest time.  Here are some pictures I took of the visible plants later in the evening:

These are the packages from the cilantro and string bean seeds:

I'm looking forward to enjoying fresh vegetables in August and September!

What Are Your Favourite Places in the World? One of Mine is in Valladolid …

One my favourite places that I've been too is probably fairly unremarkable.  There are no stores, cafes, art, music or anything else.  What makes it appealing to me is the fact that it's a quiet plaza in a colonial residential neighbourhood in an unknown town.  There is a view of an old monastery.

Recently a co-worker who visited there recently sent me some pictures of this very place:

 I remember sitting on the benches there, eating lunch with my oldest son when we visited for New Years 2012, and relaxing in the shade another time before than.  I always forget to bring my camera. Good thing other people don't!

This is the view of the monastery:

I believe it still functions as a monastery.  They have daily Mass in the chapel at least.  When the bells ring out breaking the quiet which generally permeates the calm community, it is simply beautiful.

The place is beautiful; the pleasure is so simple.

For more pictures and of my last visit to Valladolid, see Valladolid, A Mayan Colonial Town.  For a great description of a very different side of Valladolid, see A Visit to Valladolid, Colonial Yucatán: Parte Uno. (Besides this quiet corner of beauty, the writer captures the essence of what I like about Valladolid.)

Mexico City - Some Scenery from Tacubaya

One of the things I love about Mexico City is the presence of random scenery, sometimes not coinciding with the typical image we have of this city, even for those who know it.  Considering it's the second largest city in the world, and both the most beautiful and ugliest city I've seen (within a kilometer or so of each other), both exciting and boring, monotonous and ever-changing, it's no surprise that there is no "rule" about what kind of interesting scenes you'll find at any given moment.  As a complete side note that I feel like sharing, with a probable population of approx. 400,000 gringos it's the largest community of Americans outside of the USA.

That having been said, the three pictures I'm sharing today are fairly typical to the city, and rather un-random.  But they caught my attention for different reasons.  So here they are:

A former church-turned-museum - the Borough Office for Benito Juarez (near Tacubaya, at Parque Lira)

This is a very common scene in Mexico - an abandoned old church that his been restored far better than many that remain in actual use; the reason is that they have been converted to museums, giving all levels of government, private foundations, artists and the public a vested interest in restoring them.  This particular church was built in 1906, consecrated by a representative of the great Pope St. Pius X.  It was used to serve an adjoining community home - for street kids, I believe - a building which is now a city office.  When the home went out of use some 40 years ago, the church went out of use with it, and was soon turned into a museum.

I found out this information at the demand of my 4-year-old son, who was insistent on knowing why there was no mass being held, and why the church was filled with colourful sculptures of dragons from Mexican folklore instead of saints.  After asking the lady at the desk, and passing the story on to my son, he began to sob loudly.  When he finally calmed down enough to talk, he asked me if we could go find the priest (meaning the one responsible for this church building) and give him money so he could turn it back into a church and have mass there again.

I see this as an "old" church, but in relative terms, it's very new, and served as church building for a brief 60-70 years.  It reminds me of the time when I was visiting a village near my wife's grandpa's farm; when I asked him about the "old church" on the town square, he corrected me and told me that the church wasn't old; he remembered seeing the completion of the church as a child, meaning it was no more than 80 years old - a very recent innovation in the village.

A crucifix with rosaries in a bus

This is actually a fairly mild example of bus decoration; drivers will include anything from crucifixes and saints, to poster girls, and sometimes even both side by side.  I've seen a few buses with statues of Saint Death.  This driver had only the crucifix and rosaries.  Rosaries on the rear-view mirrors of taxis and other cars are pretty commonplace.  I can't speak for this driver, or make generalizations, but I know a number of people who will show many outward signs of Catholic faith like this, but are fairly uninterested in mass and even anti-clerical.  My brother-in-law, for example, will cross himself when he sees a church building or sacred image, or when he hears of that someone has died, and he commonly asks people to pray for him (to God or to the Virgin Mary), but my wife can't remember once that he's attended mass.  He doesn't think much of priests or pastors either - and even less of other churches.  So, he's definitely not atheist, and most certainly couldn't count as Protestant, but does he count as a Catholic?  I think he would say so, and I think, in some sense, I would agree.  But it falls outside of our usual northern paradigm where its not likely that someone who has stopped attending church would continue showing outward signs of religion, with strong dedication.

The Coca-Cola Building (or "Ermita") in Tacubaya

This building is a famous landmark in the heart of Tacubaya. I don't know if there used to be more buildings like this one, but from what I've seen, it's unique in Mexico City - I haven't seen any others of this style.  It was build in 1925 (from what I gathered from a quick google search) and is, as I like to point out to my wife, the "Future of the Past." When they build it, I'm sure they thought it was what the future would look like - a future that, of course, never arrived.  If I understand correctly, the name "Ermita" comes from a previous building on the site, which was a small chapel. ("Ermita" means "Hermitage." - see EDIFICIO ERMITA # 23 ANALOGO or GALERÍA FOTOGRÁFICA | El México de Ayer; both are in Spanish, but they have neat historic pictures of Mexico City even if can't read the descriptions.)

I think the back is a theater, or was a theater, at least.  Right across the road from this building is the only store where I've bought running shoes since I've lived in Mexico; they have great prices on New Balance.  I save my running-shoe shopping for my annual visits to the city.

A Beautiful Ghetto

The narrow street where I lived, typical of La Barona

Last week I stayed in Cuernavaca, with my wife's cousins in a community called La Barona.  La Barona is typically considered the worst neighborhood in Cuernavaca - a city about an hour south of Mexico City.  Back in the 70's there was a time that there was a murder every day, taxi's refused to take people there, and the buses stopped at the first traffic circle - pretty much the only way in and only way back out to the rest of the city.

Since then, this neighbourhood has a complete turn-around, and it's now a pleasant & vibrant family community where you can live comfortably with all the basics within walking distance. I've written about this community before - see A Community Turn-Around Story in Cuernavaca.

An important point is that the bad reputation has long outlived the reality.  Sure, basic common sense and care must still be used.  Yes, the community is generally a poor one; but it's not the ghetto it used to be - it's safe, and, in it's own way, picturesque and beautiful.

The community is a labyrinth of tree-lined streets, alleys lined with colorful flowers and roundabouts with playgrounds in the middle, but where you really can't tell which is the "main street" going in and out. It's also very hilly, with nice views of the nearby hills that separate Cuernavaca from Mexico City, and hide the magical village of Tepoztlan.  There are lots of local small shops that sell everything from fruit and freshly baked bread to appliances, computers and cell phones.  Because of the flowers, the trees, the views and, perhaps most of all, the relaxed lifestyle of the people, the many half-built homes, shops covered with graffiti, the unplanned tangled overhead wiring become a lot less unpleasant.

I've been accused before of liking ugly and off-colour places just to be different; but I can guarantee you that this is not the case with La Barona.  My wife and I lived there for 3 months, and every time we go back, we feel more convinced that one day, in the distant future, it could be a good home for our family.  We feel comfortable and at home there.

One of the nicer houses - this was probably built up, little by little

The bad reputation, though, has some advantages:

• It gives the community a very distinct atmosphere of its own; places that are "quaint" because they were planned to be that way often all end up being the same and somewhat boring.  This place is very down to earth, real and practical.
• It keeps the prices low. Rent is low; $100 USD/month gets you a large house that will need a bit of paint but is fine to live in.  Food is cheap (not quite as cheap as the main downtown market, but much better than other places I've seen - in Cuernavaca or anywhere else.  I've written about a similar theme in The Low Cost of Living in Cuernavaca.)

A typical main street, lined with trees

As I said, it's picturesque in its own unique way.  I'll admit quite readily it's not the place for everyone's taste, but that's true of anywhere.  Here are a few pictures with some comments.

A typical sidewalk - not always practical

Small sports complexes and regular transportation do a lot for the community (not to mention the "boutiques!")

A view of the hills in the distance

Another nicer home

An ally way heading downhill, with hills in the distance

A very narrow ally - there are many of these, and many homes have their only access off of a street like this

Poverty Is NOT a Problem ...

This says: "I have time and money to waste ..."

... in  a place where people so much money, food, possessions, etc. that they take a complete papaya, nice, ripe and perfect for eating, and smash it against a wall, letting it rot on the sidewalk, just because they feel like it.  Or in a place where kids have enough money and time at their disposal to buy spray paint and graffiti walls all night.  Or where people can buy their kids a coca cola and large bag of chips every day for their snack.  Or where people can buy take out food and throw half of it away.  Or ... I could make this list much longer, but I won't.

I live in a community which by many people would be considered "poor" or at least (even in Mexico) significantly below average.  I've estimated that the average household income in our neighborhood would probably be a bit over $7000 CDN, annually.  (Based on the cut off for mortgage requirements for buying a home.)  From my experience, the cost of living is about 1/2 of that in Canada, so by Canadian standards we could say it's equivalent to about an annual income of around $14,500.  By all the standards, it's well below the Canadian poverty line , which is about $30,000, I believe.  (The Canadian "poverty line" is a joke anyway, since it has no relation to poverty; it's measured as the bottom quarter of household income, not by basic needs or standards of living, but that's a different story.)

Too much money? Too much to eat? (A papaya)

The average household income in Mexico is about $10,000 USD per year, according the CIA Word Factbook.  So it's even noticeably below this country's average.

So, my community is officially poor. Yet, at the same time, I walked out of my house this morning to take my son to school and saw a papaya splattered all over the neighbour's house and sidewalk, left there to rot.
I go for walks every day, and every day I see new graffiti on the walls.  I see garbage bags ripped open by dogs with half-eaten take-out meals strewn all over the sidewalk.  I've been to countless parties where people pick a few things off their plate and throw the rest away.

On one level it's annoying that the first three habits make my community dirty, but that's a different issue.  The issue here is that people are absolutely wasteful.

I think our definition of poverty has been very, very skewed.  If we define poverty in terms of material needs - food, clothing and shelter in their most basic and necessary sense - then I've never seen poverty.  I know it exists somewhere, but I've never seen it.  I'd guess that people who REALLY were poor would absolutely never consider destroying any kind of food, just for fun, even to prove a point.  I'd guess that knowing what hunger really is like, from experience (which I don't, and, as far as I know, no one I know does) would simply eliminate that possibility that you could throw away food.  I'd guess that you'd never consider wasting what little money you had on a can of spray paint to graffiti your neighbour's wall.

Yet, all of these these problems are usually associated with poverty.  It's strange, isn't it?  I'd say the problem is abundance and idleness, not poverty.

The person I know who is closest to poverty does not consider himself poor.  While his living conditions are substandard (by our standards), he does not feel he is lacking anything in life, and would never ask anyone for anything.  He works hard, every day of his life.

Yet the "poor" people in my neighborhood can throw away food, give their kids money to buy spray paint, etc., etc.  Then they complain about the government and big companies.



While it's less visually obvious, I'd say the problem is just as big in Canada.  And we like to talk about the 99% and all of that.  People like to talk about poverty, yet I see so much complete wastefulness, that I can't take it seriously.

My wife and I believe in helping the poor.  And we do.  We help the poorest people we know every time we have a chance.  But as long as people have enough money and idle time to waste food and vandalize their neighbourhood, I don't feel sorry for them.

Smashing the Seven Deadly Sins, and Other Observations about Piñatas

A little girl, destroying the seven deadly sins.

Recently I heard of an interesting explanation for the Mexican tradition of piñatas at posadas (see also my post from two days ago: "Why didn't you tell me you were the Virgin Mary?") Traditional piñatas have seven points on them, which represent the seven deadly sins.  The piñata is smashed during Advent and at Christmas to represent the victory over sin that Christ's birth promised.

Of course, to the children and adults hitting the piñata, the only thought in mind is breaking it open to rush for the falling candies, but the idea is out there.

So, here are some pictures of the piñata from our recent posada.  The piñata in the pictures has 5 points, but right after we had a larger one with seven points.

By the way, notice how I'm standing between the child with the stick and the other children, who seemed oblivious to the fact that a passionately swinging stick meant to smash a piñata could hurt them.  A neighbour later told me that these attempts at organization and safety showed how "European" or "American" (i.e. not "Mexican" or "Latin") I was.  Apparently an injured child is part of the routine.

"We try to control the kids, but they just don't listen," is the usual explanation.  I guess destroying sin has its price.  Since there were no injuries, it looks like this year I spoiled part of the tradition! (Needless to say, everyone was happy about that part!)

My son, giving it all to put a hole in the piñata.

Kids rushing for the candies falling from heaven.  See the rewards of battling sin?

All the neighbours from our street for a group photo.

"Why didn't you tell me you were the Virgin Mary?"

Would your recognize the Virgin Mary?

This weekend, I participated in my fourth Mexican "posada," which is a communal re-enactment of the scene where Joseph and Mary arrive to Bethlehem and look for a place to stay, which take place during the 9 days before Christmas.  The re-enactment is followed by a party where a very traditional hot fruit punch is served to all those who participate, along with snacks, a pinata and other elements of Mexican festivities (=loud music & tequila.)

In the Mexican re-enactment, a group of neighbours and friends from the community get together, light candles, and show up at the door of a the person hosting the party.  The people outside with candles play the role of Joseph and Mary (it doesn't matter how many people there are)  and the people inside are the innkeeper.  The re-enactment is in the form of a song where each "role" sings short verses in response to each.

Joseph asks for a place to stay, the innkeeper sends him away, threatening a beating if doesn't leave.  Joseph implores him for the sake of his pregnant wife and finally, 12 verses later, convinces him to let them in.  Everyone enters singing joyfully of the night Christ was born.  I've been to some (like last night) where a prayer is said, then the punch is served, etc.

Last night I especially noticed Joseph's final method of convincing the innkeeper:

"My wife Mary is Queen of Heaven, and will be the mother of the Word Divine."

The interesting part is actually the innkeeper's response, after so vehemently denying them service:

The festivities beginning, just after the re-enactment (my posada last night)

"Are you Joseph? Your wife is Mary? Enter, pilgrims. I did not know!"

If he had only known that it was Joseph and the Virgin Mary!  My first reaction to this is probably typical of a more reasonable Northerner; "What a silly little song! As if the innkeeper would've known or cared who Mary was."

Besides no mention of such a dialogue in the Bible, the idea that the innkeeper could've known who Mary the Queen of Heaven was is simply absurd and anachronistic.

But then I had a second thought. From what I understand, these plays are part of a long-standing Catholic tradition of re-enacting the Gospel, still very much alive during Advent and Easter time in Latin America and other some other Catholic areas.   On one hand, there's a cultural element here; everyone knows who the Virgin Mary is.  I'm guessing that one of the original purposes was to present these key stories to an illiterate population.  These re-enactments pull the events out of history and put them into Mexico in the current day and age where it only makes sense that all Joseph would have to do is identify his wife as the Virgin Mary.  The recognition of her roles and titles would also serve to teach and reinforce these concepts in addition to the story.

A Posada (not mine, just a good picture)

Purely for the sake of speculation, there might be something more to this.  The idea of "showing what happens" was (and is?) also the main idea behind religious icons, according to Pope Gregory I (6th century) among others.  I have also heard the Mass described in a function of "reenactment."  Both icons and the Mass show "historical events" in eternal terms, not merely placing the past into the present, but actually showing eternity within the framework of time. (The reason why icons of John the Baptist show him with his head firmly attached to his shoulders, but also holding his own head on a platter at the same time, and the reason why the Mass seems to "repeat" Christ's death and resurrection; it is not "repeated" but is eternity reflected in the framework of time.)

Perhaps there is an element of this idea behind the Catholic reenactments and the Mexican Posadas; in eternity, the innkeeper would know the significance of the event that's about to happen (the birth of Christ), and Mary would not be a simple Jewish girl from Galilee - she would already be The Queen of Heaven and the Mother of God (as is believed in Catholicism) and it would be necessary to recognize her as such.

I'm not sure if I'm taking this idea too far, but this "anachronism" becomes much more interesting when considered in these term.

Forbidden Love

Here’s a true story I’ve seen unfold over the past two years since I moved into my neighbourhood.  Among the first to move into the neighbourhood was a handsome youth with wavy blond hair (a rarity in Mexico) whom everybody loves (we’ll call him “Fernando” to protect his true identity.)

 

Within a couple of weeks another youth (“Ramon”) moved in two doors down, and the two became friends.  Somewhat later, the parents of Ramon became concerned that he was still single, and they decided to find a wife for him – yes, an arranged marriage!  The lovely young lady (“Lola”) moved in with Ramon; however, although they liked each other on a certain level, they’ve never really connected, and to this day their marriage remains somewhat distant.

 

As Ramon and Fernando continued to spend their evenings together, Fernando and Lola came to a difficult realization; they were in love.

 

As the days, weeks and months go by, their love grows, as does their sorrow.  While they find joy in the moments they could see each other, they were careful since they don’t want to hurt Ramon.  Either he is so innocent that he doesn’t notice, or he notices and chooses not to react (perhaps out of sadness, perhaps out of indifference to his marriage) – I really can’t tell. 

 

Lola and Fernando also fear Ramon’s parents who are determined not to let Lola disgrace their family.  Fernando’s parents (he lives in their house, still) are suspicious and are both disapproving and vigilant.

 

Just this week, a possibly dangerous development took place.  Lola’s godmother caught her and Fernando hiding in a home under construction – they were alone, with tears in their eyes and embracing.  She angrily sent Fernando home and scolded Fernando telling him he ought to be ashamed of himself.  While I don’t think that her godmother told Ramon’s parents, she did tell Fernando’s.  They're furious, and have forbidden him from leaving the house when she is out – she’s very traditional, and usually only goes out with Ramon, with leave of his parents. (You could imagine the shock of the godmother!)

 

Yesterday I saw Fernando sitting his window, watching out of his window, trembling with desire and bitterness; she saw him, walked over to the window, touched the roses growing below the window, and leaned over to smell one of them; as she did this her eyes met Fernando’s for a moment, and then she walked away and went on her way with Ramon.

 

The sad part about this story is that it’s true.  The happy part about the story is that it’s about dogs, not humans! “Fernando” is my dog, Simba. Ramon and Lola are the real names of the neighbours’ 2 Chihuahuas.  The only parts I changed were a few details to “humanize” the story – e.g. the “godmother” is the owner’s mother often who takes care of Ramon and Lola.  She didn’t really see tears in the dogs’ eyes, but the rest is true; I really did see Simba trembling with desire, Lola really did reach her head out to sniff the roses growing under our window, and their eyes really did mean.  Of course, I didn’t point out that Lola was sniffing the roses because Simba had “marked” them; that just wouldn’t have sounded romantic.

A Community Turn-Around Story in Cuernavaca

Yesterday, I visited a community where I used to lie in Cuernavaca called "La Barona." Years ago, it was the worst ghetto the city ever had; it still has a reputation for being the bad side of town, although it has changed incredibly over the past few decades.

Originally it was a village, and when it was swallowed by the city during the 40s and 50s, migrants from other parts of the country brought some local feuds with them, which eventually escalated into full-blown gang violence. During the 70's there was time that there was a murder every day. Buses stopped at the traffic circle which was the main entrance (there was only 3 entrances into a neighborhood of about 10,000) and taxis would also refuse to go further.



By the time I live there in 2006, it was a quiet, friendly neighbourhood, where the families who roughed it through the bad years (in return for really cheap property) had managed to build up their houses from little shacks into decent multi-storey, nicely painted homes – still mostly lower income, but nicer that what it once was. Now, children play in the streets, and there are a lot of little restaurants and local services. Fruit and vegetable shops are common, and everything tends to be the cheapest in the city (the bad reputation which it has never outlived is probably responsible for this). When I visited yesterday, there were more businesses and better businesses than four years ago.



My friends from Mexico City were surprised when they came and saw that it was a decent neighbourhood. Their friends who lived here had told them it was the worst part of the city, comparable to roughest parts of Mexico City. During the 70's, I guess this was true. The worst thing that happened to me there was being pestered by 2 drunks for money. (If they had wanted to rob me, they could've easily done so; but they didn't.) There was also a little incident with a ghost, but that's a different story.



Fortunately, I've never lived in a real bad part of any city. This is the closest I've come (along with the village of Santa Fe in Mexico City.) But it's a place I like to talk about and think about since it shows how a neighbourhood can go from a really bad problem, into a relatively decent family community.