Guanajuato

 I'm in the Guanajuato bus station three hours early and with two weeks of Spanish classes under my belt, 'o mejor en mi cabesa,'so if I miss the bus to Morelia there really will be no reason not to admit me to a home for the mentally challenged. If all goes well, Barb Steers and I will meet like the iceberg and the Titanic except with no tragic  consequences, at 5:30 in the 'central des autobuses' in Morelia. 

My time in Guanajuato was a much more textured experience than I had anticipated. Being alone is one thing that I've become accustomed to and usually enjoy, but living alone with a strange family is another. My bedroom was on the first floor just off the livingroom, so to get to the bathroom I had to walk through the livingroom, the trysting place for the 19 year old daughter and her 'novio'.  The first couple of nights I interupted them in the most chaste of embraces, four feet on the floor. It reminded me of Graham Greene's description of innocent kisses on park benches that he saw when he was in the south of Mexico in the 1930s. But as the days passed their feet left the floor and the duration of their encounters lengthened. This combined with the fact that she was a constant giggler and frequent screamer   provided the impetus for me to spend my evenings on the streets of Guanajuato, which wasn't a bad thing. I got to know the city quite well and see most of its sights. 

On one of these wanders I met a man named Sam from Tepic. He sat down beside me on a bench in the central garden of Guanajuato and introduced himself. He was good looking and appeared to be a bit younger than I am.  He had lived most of his life in either Australia or Georgia. We talked a bit, and when he asked if I wanted to join him for a beer at one of the many patio restaurants around the park , I accepted. By the time I was half finished my Dos Equies, I had realised that in spite of the fact that we spoke the same language we had little to say aside from facts or fictions about our lives, the usual blabber that passes for conversation between travellers.  I met him again the next night because he had suggested it and I wanted to buy him a beer this time.  But when he sugggested we get our feet off the floor, I declined.  He repeated the offer but didn't force the point.  I have to admit I felt a bit like the funny little second cook in "Downton Abby" did when the servant from the USA wanted her to return with him to cook in his master's house and marry him.  I was not the least bit inclined to accept the offer but I was " that chuffed" just to get it that I felt quite attractive for about half an hour as I walked home.  The spell was broken when I entered the house and heard a raging argument going on upstairs between Fernanda, the daughter, and 'su novio'.  I stayed aloof in my room until the banging and crying became so loud that I went out to make sure Fernanda was fine. She was. It was the novio who was sobbing.  Whether his pain was physical or emotional, I never discovered.  I was the only witness to the spat and I said nothing.   The next evening they were coiled up on the couch  again and the following day, 'Viernes de Dolores', the most romantic spring festival in Guanajuato, he gave her an extravagant boquet of flowers and she accepted, looking radiant in the clinging dress that barely touched the top of her high-heeled legs which she had bought in Leon two days before. 

I went to church with the family the morning of 'Viernes de Dolores' The church was crowded beyond its doors, and when we left the service we joined a crowd that packed the streets, lined on both sides with stalls selling flowers, food, masks, dolls on sticks and baskets of brightly coloured eggs that had been emptied and refilled with confetti. The children bash each other and anyone else on the head with these eggs, so there is confetti 'por todas partes'.  After that, I went with the family to 'an acreage' they own just outside of town to prepare for Paco's sister's birthday party.   Her name is Dolores, so although it's not actually her birthday she always celebrates on this date. She's also not a virgin but a 45 year old married lawyer who just had a breast implant that went all before her as she strutted around the fiesta distributing 'besos'.   Setting up was fun because I helped turn what looked like a pretty bare piece of land when we arrived into a fiesta setting. We put up a trampoline, swings, games, tables and chairs, etc. A family that had been hired to cater arrived, and the smell of freshly dry-fried tacos completed the atmosphere. The guests slowly showed up the usual hour or so late. Finally we ate.  The food was really good. I was starving by that time. For me the party went downhill from there. Everyone was very kind, and I actually had a couple of conversations.  But as tongues loosened with liquor, the real 'lives of the party' took over, and I was left trying to catch the jokes but missing badly.  On top of that a pretty fierce wind came up, the temperature dropped and I was only wearing a blouse. The locals were prepared.  They put on sweaters and jackets and had another drink. Fortunately Patty and Paco, realizing that the party was going to go on late into the night, decided that Paco would drive Patty and me home for the night and he would return to eventually close things down.  It was cold even in the house, so I slept one last time in my MEC jacket. 

Now I'm in the bus to Morelia, passing strawberry fields forever.  The signs for 'fresas con crema' sound much more inviting than the ones Jim and I saw in Devon trying to entice you in for a cream tea with strawberries and clotted cream.  

Patty, Pako and their dog Tom the evening we walked up the hills behind their house to the caves and the statue of Ignatious Loyola, the founder of the Jesuit Order that was very active in the early days of Guanajuato. 

A woman selling confetti eggs on the street on 'Viernes de Dolores'

The crowded church

One of the glorious jacaranda trees in Guanajiato

The fiesta site before the set up

Beyond Mexico

Jay has been working on quite a few projects   lately. Of course the biggest and most time consuming has been getting the family to Canada. The first step in that direction was taken when he was officially accepted as their sponsor.  Another thing he has wanted to do for quite a while and has now done is to get some tattoos to incorporate into the ones he got early in his stay in Korea. It has taken about a month of Saturdays and been painful at times, but now it's finished. Here they are. 

This is a Japanese Henya mask and design worked into the Roman numeral eleven, the day of Jim's death. 

This death mask and wave pattern incorporates the Roman numeral three for the month  of Jim's death. 

It's 8:30 Sunday morning. I've just washed my smalls in the stone sinks on the roof of Patty and Paco's house and hung them to dry in the sun that is already hot. From this delightful laundry room you see Guanajuato spread out at the base of the dry, surrounding hills as if a child had dumped a big box of brightly coloured blocks on the floor and just left them there. I was reminded of how much I loved the time I spent doing the laundry or whatever on the roof of the house Jim and I rented the second time we were in Puerto Vallarta.  I never ceased to be thrilled by the view from there of the Pacific and the Sierra Madres.  I don't know what the views are like from the family's bedrooms on the second floor here, but from my windows I look either on the laundry and a white wall. Like most of the houses in Mexico, this one is built of thick block or stone and plaster walls with small windows to keep out the heat of the sun.  At the moment I'm waiting for Rolando, the man who runs the school I'm at.  We had planned to go for a walk to the Presa de la Olla on Friday afternoon but he phoned to postpone until Sunday at 9:00am. He was going to have breakfast with the family and then we would go for our walk, but he phoned at 8:45 to say he couldn't come until 11:00. Now it's 11:20 and he still hasn't arrived. I think this is normal for a Mexican because Patty and Paco don't seem to be the least bit concerned but I'm laughing a bit to myself to think that he might be doing this so as not to be outdone by a Canadian who missed her plane and required two trips to Leon before she arrived about seven hours late. 

I think I'm making progress in Spanish because I compose wonderful stories in my head as I walk alone for hours around the town, but when I'm actually talking to someone I can only use simple sentences. It makes me realize how much I digress when I'm talking in English.  When I take off on a story in Spanish, I quickly run out of vocabulary or find that I've talked myself into a maze of conjugations that are far beyond me.  I'm learning more about myself than I am Spanish. But maybe that's fine because I will leave Mexico in a few weeks but I have to live with myself. 

Rolando arrived around 11:30.  From what I understood of his animated conversation with Patty and Paco, he was caught up in emails and phone calls concerning a personality conflict in another school where he also teaches. 

I drove with him for the first time through the tunnels of Guanajuato.  They have been built quite recently to accomodate traffic as the city has grown and the old section cannot be altered. I think from what I read yesterday in the excellent Museo La Alhóndiga de Granaditas that many of the tunnels follow sections of the old river bed. The river was diverted in 1905 after a flood that destroyed parts of the old city.  The flood followed a huge storm and the breaking of the dam that we visited today. We picked up two new students from Australia, a young couple, and walked back through the city, beyond my house, through an area I had never seen before to the Presa de la Olla, the repaired dam and reservoir for the city of Guanajuato. It's a quiet neighborhood, with many beautiful nineteenth century homes that used to be country places for the rich but are now part of the city.  It was a good day for a walk, warm with a pleasant mix of sun and cloud and a slight breeze.  The rains of the past have brought out the flowers on the jacarandas and bouganvillas. The fact that I spoke Spanish better than the two new students also lightened my spirits. 

It's back to classes tomorrow.  Barb and I have made plans for our Easter vacation. We meet in Morelia next Saturday. 

A view of Guanajuato from the front door of Patty and Paco's house

Jacarandas in front of the house

A section of the Presa de la Olla

Getting to Guanajuato

Mo and John drove me to the airport and I treated them to our traditional pre-trip treat at Tim's. The flight to Vancouver went well, as did the one to Mexico City. I watched "Mockingjay Part One" and " The Theory of Everything".  As the latter was ending and Steven Hawking was about to bring an audience to its feet with his words about hope and man's resiliance, I saw the lights of Mexico City from the window. From that moment on I could not get my eyes off their glamour. They spread out below in acres of lamé.    We landed and the splendor ended. Mexico City airport at midnight is not pleasant. Fortunately I had no luggage to wait for and haul around because just getting to Terminal 2 involved a tram that was out of order, a bus that only took people who had passes and the help of a lovely woman who got me on the same bus she was taking and entertained me by recounting her complaints about how things don't work in Mexico in spite of the armies of uniformed people who are everywhere doing nothing. This was my Graham Greene in Mexico moment. It was not my last. Air Canada had not issued me with a boarding pass for Leon, so as soon as I arrived in Terminal 2, I went to the Air Mexico desks to get one. There wasn't much happening there. One woman condescended to make me a pass and told me to wait in 'sala'2, an enormous area with nothing but rows of uncomfortable seats. After a few hours there, I went for a walk. It was about 4:00am. The place was cold and empty aside from a few bodies sitting and sprawled in uncomfortable positions. The pnly thing open was a 'pharmacia'. The sole person at the Air Mexico desk told me that my plane would be boarding at 8:20 from sala 72. I went there to spend another 4 uncomfortable hours, only to discover when I had heard no call by 8:15, that my plane had already departed from sala 75 about 10 minutes earlier. My heart survived the shock of that news  and the subsequant running around pleading, arguing and finally buying another ticket for Leon, so I think it's in pretty  good  shape. As in most bad times there is one good person, so on this early morning there was a boy who works at the Starbucks in Terminal 2.  When I couldn't connect with any wifi system, he let me use his phone to email Rolando from the school to tell them I would be arriving much later than expected. His boss almost got on his case, but I convinced him not to. Finally, after about 15 hours in the lowest and coldest level of hell, I got on a plane to be jostled through turbulance to Leon. Rolando met me and drove me to meet the family with whom I will live for the next two weeks. All is well but I'm still not warm. We went for a long walk around the city today. It didn't rain much, but I was only warm when we were walking uphill. Fortunately there was a lot of that. Now, after a delicious dinner, I'm under the blankets, wearing every warm thing I have with me. I even have the hood up on my MEC jacket. 

Mexico Ciy by day, as big but not nearly so bright as by night. 

I made it to Guanajuato

It's a cool, rainy Sunday in Guanajuato. I'm wearing almost all the warm clothes I brought with me as I sit in the livingrooom of my homestay. There's no heat in the house because this is about the coldest it gets here. The family is upstairs and I can hear their voices as they talk on Skype with their son who is studying in Germany. I have just had a brief Skype phonecall with mom, but the combination of her deafness and bad reception made it short.  Later I will go for a walk with the family to get an idea of how to move around

the town. It looks lovely from here,even in the cold and rain. 

Vancouver airport

I'm waiting for the flight to Mexico City in the beautiful part of the airport. 

To Mexico????

This is the last time I’ll be writing with a full keyboard.  It will be words with one thumb from now on, at least I hope that will be the case.  I’ve been walking down two trails lately, one in the direction of Guanajuato and the other Victoria, but mom seems to be determined to do her best on her own for the next little while, so the former might be the final one.  Every time I come back to the house after being out, I look at the phone to see if the message indicator is blinking red; my heart soars it it’s not and sinks if it is.  Actually mom has only called twice, both times about small matters.  She wore a heart monitor yesterday to test her blood pressure.  She will talk to the accountant tomorrow about taxes and annuities and she has finally broken down and made an appointment with the audiologist to get something slightly more up to date than the ridiculous ‘pocket talker’ that she got in a rush so that she could hear what was happening when we went to Matti’s wedding.  He now has two children and is working at his second job since he got married, so nobody could accuse her of rushing into new technology.  But I’d best stop there; I also am slow to let go of old possessions and old anything for that matter.  I’m continuing to read Graham Greene, another book of his that I hadn’t read, The Heart of the Matter.  There’s a density to it that I can’t understand, except to say that the way he writes and what he writes about seem perfectly suited.  I get completely lost in the atmosphere he creates.  His perceptions are clear and his expressions of them are perfect, without sentimentality or any form of embellishment.  The very cold eye that he turned on Mexico in The Lawless Roads, and that I hated because I love Mexico, is what made The Power and the Glory such a good book once it was expressed in his terse style.  The same must be the case here, although I know nothing of the post war West Africa that he is describing in The Heart of the Matter.

This brings me to my heart, which has been the only matter that has slowed down my preparations for Mexico.  I bought travel insurance on Friday.  On Monday after an appointment with the doctor where we discussed what tests I have had or been scheduled to have lately and what the state of my angina is, if that is what I have, I went back to BCAA and changed some of the answers I had given to questions about my health.  The result is that I paid another one hundred and some dollars more for travel insurance that covers everything, except anything that might happen to my heart while I’m in Mexico.  I’m satisfied with this because I’ve managed whatever I have to this point and think I can do so in the future.  My grandmother and uncle had angina for years and neither died of it or of anything to do with the heart.

I certainly am not leaving Vernon to get away from the weather.  It’s been warm and often sunny since I returned.  The skiing has been good, if not great.  This morning, the sun was brilliant and although the base was hard, the groomers had worked up a bit of a surface on the snow.  Where the sun had been shining through the tall spruce, the snow was quite soft by noon.  I almost fell on a downhill bit when I streaked out of the shade into the sun and slowed down instantly.  I almost fell, but not quite.  Any stupid thing like that that happens to me in Mexico will be fully covered by my travel insurance.  So as all the Ausies at Silver Star would say, “No worries”.

My Friday snow shoe gang.  I'll miss the last run on Friday, March 13 because that's the day I fly to Guanajuato.

A new app

A young man who works at Staples helped me download an app so that I can write my blog and add pictures to it on my iPhone because I hope to travel light to Mexico, just a carry-on suitcase and pack. I'll see now if it works. 

It seems to have. 

This is a picture Jay sent me on Kakao when I was at mom's. He wanted to show her how to be tough. It's the picture that inspired her fist pump pose in the last blog. 

This is May in a tea cup in Seoul 

Now let's see if this works.