Hola amigos,
We've had a quiet couple of
weeks here. We have our little routine of shopping in the market
on Thursdays and Sundays, and trying to eat up all the fresh fruit and
veggies we buy in the interim. Kind of tough on the waist line,
especially when you consider the beer and tacos we have to consume along
with them! Steve had a couple of off days, commencing when he was
stung inside his throat in the process of swallowing the bee that was
in his coke. He took Benadryl and had no serious reaction, but he
did feel that sucker all the way down and out.
We did go on a little adventure
to Puruandiro, a real cowboy city about half an hour from here. We
went on a Sunday, which is the day everyone goes visiting (also the
big market day in many towns). Every other store sells cowboy hats,
boots and belts, and judging by the crowds they do a thriving business!
There was a little merry-go-round in the plaza, much to the delight of our
little friends Liseth (5) and Carla (3). We ate paletas (the best
fruit popsicles ever), and corn on the cob. The latter is steamed,
then grilled, then put on a stick and rolled in sour cream, powdered cheese,
chili powder and salt! Tasty, believe it or not! We had Juan,
his daughters, and his sister and mother with us. We therefore stopped
at the turkey village mentioned in a previous missive, because the sister
and mother have friends there who allegedly had lots of turkeys.
These friends lived in quite
a place, and from the outside all you see is a wall with a gate. Within
the courtyard, all is cobblestone. There were at least two adobe houses,
pens for turkeys and chickens, cows and calves, and flowers EVERYWHERE.
The place seemed to have been there forever; a very traditional extended
family compound with toddlers peeking out of doorways, and an old man whittling under
a tree Of course Juan had to buy more birds - a turkey and three chickens.
You would think that we would
be starting to get bored now, as our new adventures wind down and we settle
into more routine. However, life in Mexico seems to defy routine.
Just walking the three blocks down our street to the tortilleria every day
is an adventure.
One day, some one dumped a
load of gravel in the road and over the sidewalk, blocking half the road.
This is a one lane road and the only way for southbound traffic to get through
town. No problem, the gargantuan double trailer trucks just go up
on the other sidewalk to get through, and pedestrians await the right moment
to slip by. Then, of course, some one else parked on the other sidewalk
just there so they could run into a nearby store. Traffic is
at a complete standstill, and the whole line commences the horn blowing
routine. Honk! Honk! Honk! Honk! By now I
have given up all pretense of shopping. I want to know what is going
to happen. The men shoveling the gravel into wheelbarrows and wheeling
it into a courtyard stop to watch, too. Heads poke out of upstairs
windows to see what all the noise is about. No less than four women
emerge from nearby houses with brooms - what better time to sweep the
sidewalk? Finally, a man emerges nonchalantly from a store with a
coke in one hand and chips in another, saunters over to the car, and drives
off. Nobody curses him, and he seems not to care that the line of
traffic probably stretches back miles by now.
Another day, I saw a man riding
a horse down this same street as I strolled into the tortilleria.
He plodded along as if on a dusty dirt road, and the horse was as adept
as he at ignoring the cacophony of trucks and ancient buses two feet
away. I grinned at the sight, and popped in to buy our tortillas for
the day. On the way home, I saw that same horse, now riderless, standing
with his butt in the street, and his head in a veterinary shop! It
was comical, and I with no camera.
A word about the abundance
of shops of every sort in Mexico. It appears that most people have
a room adjoining the street, and most of those rooms at one time or another
is used to sell something. There are of course consistent businesses,
but many others come and go on a daily basis. Suddenly a door which
has always before been closed opens into a room with an odd assortment of
groceries on the floor - canned corn, toilet paper, some fruit and chili
peppers. Today it is open in the morning, but tomorrow it may only
be open in the evening. There is no telling. No signs.
Sometimes a door opens upon women making tortillas for sale, a butcher shop
killing, plucking and selling chicken, or a room full of clothes.
And beyond these surprises, one can almost always glimpse an enchanting
courtyard with bright green or blue walls, flowers everywhere, and wrought
iron furniture. Or an adobe house with pigs in the adjoining enclosure,
and again, flowers everywhere.
I just love Mexico for this
anything-goes attitude. Those with something to sell and no store
front simply set up their wares on the sidewalk. Or carry the bed
frame, or chairs, or veggies they are trying to sell down the street, yelling
out what they have for sale every few steps. When we hear noise in
the street, we always pop out to see what's happening. Once it was
a man with a sharpening stone wanting knives and scissors to sharpen.
Another time, a man was collecting cans (which they can sell for the aluminum.)
The propane truck careens around the city all day long blaring a recording,
"Gas! Got gas!"
With fondness (but not gas),
Sarah, Steve and Isaac
More Mexico Photos, Another Rodeo in La Luz:
http://www.songseek.com/picturenet/photos/La_Luz/
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