Saturday, November 30, 2013
Sunday, November 24, 2013
My Mexican Thanksgiving
I got a tip from another Fulbrighter that Couchsurfing was a good place to meet new friends. I signed up a while ago but hadn't gone to any of Querétaro's group's Thursday meet-ups yet. But then I saw they were organizing a Thanksgiving dinner and I was all about it! It was held a week early and attended by nearly 30 people, mostly Mexicans. I went with Robert, the other Fulbrighter here, and since we were the only US Americans, were asked to give a short explanation. I led everyone in giving thanks before we ate and cherished the familiar feeling of listening to what everyone is thankful for. Gaby and Daniel roasted a delicious turkey and it was accompanied by pasta, creamed corn, a tuna pot pie, another pasta dish, and mashed potatoes that tasted like pureed butter. I was thrilled to see that someone had found a pumpkin pie at Walmart and savored every bite. I followed it with bright green guayaba gelatin which may be the most delicious dessert I've had in Mexico so far. I had thought I wouldn't have an opportunity to celebrate Thanksgiving at all this year and was so happy to get to have a little bit of turkey and pie with a group of such friendly and warm people.
Las Pozas de Edward James
Soon after moving in with the Ramirez Fellowes family, Andres told me about this magical place in the jungle with an name I could never remember: Xilitla. He explained it was the adopted home of an eccentric British surrealist that was friends with Dalí as he showed me photos of this odd and incredible place. And then he showed me the music video Empire of the Sun filmed there and I was sold (Xilitla shows up at about 2:00). I got a tip for a place to stay, the enchanting Casa Caracol, and I booked a room for Jamai and I.
We boarded our afternoon bus and started the 5 hour ride north. After a couple of hours, I suddenly remembered every one's suggestion to take Dramamine as we entered the windy, mountainous, Sierra Gorda roadway. When we finally arrived an older man ran up to us asking if we needed a ride to the Casa Caracol. We agreed to meet back in an hour after shaking off the nausea and getting some dinner. The man spoke a little English and told us about when he lived in Oklahoma City and worked back-to-back restaurant jobs for years. He turned down a rocky road with no lights and I thought his beat up truck was going to break down as we bounced over the stones and pot holes. He dropped us off in the dark and pointed down a hill where we wandered in the direction of a faint light. We carefully shuffled along until we finally the Casa Caracol. We were shown to our little room that looked so cozy and peaceful in the photos online. When we stepped inside, we were hit with a strong smell of must and a dampness that permeated the air, a result of Xilitla's subtropical climate. We each tried to hide our disappointment and went to the main building to watch movies. There we met the only other guests staying at the Casa Caracol, a group of four Russians who have been working as tour guides in Cancun for three years. They were extremely friendly and gave us one of their beers and offered to share their dinner as well. We watched Nosferatu projected onto the wall with ambient music playing instead of the movie's track. The main building was really interesting with a very jungley, hippy vibe. Geometric figures and books hung from the ceiling and there was little tent with a Buddha figure lit up by neon lights.
When I awoke in the morning, I explored the grounds and appreciated the beauty of the area. It is so lush and green, with plants dripping off one another. I spotted a neon green bee collecting pollen and tall trees with threatening spikes.
We ate enchiladas and drank rich, nutty coffee at the one little restaurant and headed towards Las Pozas de Edward James, just a couple minutes walking from the hotel.
The garden includes 80 acres of natural waterfalls and pools, and James' objective was to create a Garden of Eden.
For hours Jamai and I just climbed up staircases, across platforms, through walkways hidden from site by gigantic, leafy plants. We would catch glimpses of the waterfall from the tops of different structures and eventually found our way to the little pool of bright blue water. Jamai got in first and convinced me to join him. It was a Wednesday and most of the time, it felt like we were all alone. The structures were built between 1949-1984 and are covered in moss with pieces broken off in a few places. The whole area feels like an archaeological site of uncovered ruins, but instead of Mayan temples, they are surrealist staircases and cement orchids.
There are many areas that are cared for and easy to navigate, but a few paths lead off into the jungle and become faint dirt trails that pass between wild bushes and spider webs. Jamai and I followed the steep trail towards the Secret Garden where we found the shell of a building covered in vines. It was spooky yet romantic, perhaps because of the name and how far into the jungle it is hidden. We only stayed for a few brief moments, it was as long as either of us could last before letting our imaginations start to scare us.
Later in the evening, as we waited for a taxi to take us into the town of Xilitla, I spoke with a man selling coffee. He told me about how his entire family had worked for Edward James in some capacity and shared stories of his bizarre behavior, outlandish requests, generosity, and volcanic temperament. It seems like the locals are fond of their long-gone eccentric artist and that nearly every family in the town had worked for him at one time or another.
When we returned from town, we found the Russians building a fire. We sat with them for a long while, talking about languages, living abroad, and the perfect herb for potatoes that seems to only grow in Russia. As our eyes grew heavy, Jamai and I returned to our musty little room, checked for spiders, and fell asleep wondering about the bearded Englishman that turned the jungle into a work of art.
We boarded our afternoon bus and started the 5 hour ride north. After a couple of hours, I suddenly remembered every one's suggestion to take Dramamine as we entered the windy, mountainous, Sierra Gorda roadway. When we finally arrived an older man ran up to us asking if we needed a ride to the Casa Caracol. We agreed to meet back in an hour after shaking off the nausea and getting some dinner. The man spoke a little English and told us about when he lived in Oklahoma City and worked back-to-back restaurant jobs for years. He turned down a rocky road with no lights and I thought his beat up truck was going to break down as we bounced over the stones and pot holes. He dropped us off in the dark and pointed down a hill where we wandered in the direction of a faint light. We carefully shuffled along until we finally the Casa Caracol. We were shown to our little room that looked so cozy and peaceful in the photos online. When we stepped inside, we were hit with a strong smell of must and a dampness that permeated the air, a result of Xilitla's subtropical climate. We each tried to hide our disappointment and went to the main building to watch movies. There we met the only other guests staying at the Casa Caracol, a group of four Russians who have been working as tour guides in Cancun for three years. They were extremely friendly and gave us one of their beers and offered to share their dinner as well. We watched Nosferatu projected onto the wall with ambient music playing instead of the movie's track. The main building was really interesting with a very jungley, hippy vibe. Geometric figures and books hung from the ceiling and there was little tent with a Buddha figure lit up by neon lights.
We ate enchiladas and drank rich, nutty coffee at the one little restaurant and headed towards Las Pozas de Edward James, just a couple minutes walking from the hotel.
The garden includes 80 acres of natural waterfalls and pools, and James' objective was to create a Garden of Eden.
For hours Jamai and I just climbed up staircases, across platforms, through walkways hidden from site by gigantic, leafy plants. We would catch glimpses of the waterfall from the tops of different structures and eventually found our way to the little pool of bright blue water. Jamai got in first and convinced me to join him. It was a Wednesday and most of the time, it felt like we were all alone. The structures were built between 1949-1984 and are covered in moss with pieces broken off in a few places. The whole area feels like an archaeological site of uncovered ruins, but instead of Mayan temples, they are surrealist staircases and cement orchids.
There are many areas that are cared for and easy to navigate, but a few paths lead off into the jungle and become faint dirt trails that pass between wild bushes and spider webs. Jamai and I followed the steep trail towards the Secret Garden where we found the shell of a building covered in vines. It was spooky yet romantic, perhaps because of the name and how far into the jungle it is hidden. We only stayed for a few brief moments, it was as long as either of us could last before letting our imaginations start to scare us.
When we returned from town, we found the Russians building a fire. We sat with them for a long while, talking about languages, living abroad, and the perfect herb for potatoes that seems to only grow in Russia. As our eyes grew heavy, Jamai and I returned to our musty little room, checked for spiders, and fell asleep wondering about the bearded Englishman that turned the jungle into a work of art.
Friday, November 15, 2013
Kickflips
I often say Jamai won me over with his skateboard tricks. When we first met, we would travel between our apartments by way of the Panhandle. One of his favorite things to do was ride his skate and hold onto me while I walked so I'd pull him along the bike path the separated our homes. Because of dog walking and generally busy-ness, Jamai hadn't been skateboarding as much in recent years but as started to get back into it. I was probably just as excited as he was when he said he was bringing his skateboard to Querétaro. He found a skate spot and chatted it up with other guys while I worked one day and then I got to accompany him to the little skatepark in the Alameda park another afternoon. He says this trick isn't that great, but I think it is and I wanted to show it off for him.
My fiance, the skateboarder:
My fiance, the skateboarder:
Monday, November 11, 2013
Día de los muertos
Jamai has come and gone. Such a long awaited trip done and over so quickly. It was simply amazing to have him here, introduce him to my host family, show him my city, and take him on a couple quick trips. He arrived just a couple days before Día de Los Muertos, the holiday that celebrates the return of the deceased for a night of celebration, and also the day my cousin Katie wed a wonderful man in San Diego. Jamai also came just days after my Uncle Steve suddenly and unexpectedly died. It was nearly too shocking to bear and very difficult to go through so far from family. Having Jamai here helped ease the sense of absence while I missed my family during such a major loss and a major celebration.
Normally I work on Saturdays but my school decided to give me the day off to celebrate Día de los Muertos. I had heard that the little town of Pátzcuaro in the state of Michoacán was widely known for it's celebrations and a handful of other Fulbrighters were going so Jamai and I made our way West. Pátzcuaro is on a lake that is dotted with little island pueblos, Janitizio being the best known for Día de Los Muertos. Just around dark, we boarded a lancha and left for the island. Janitzio is a steep mountain plunked down in the middle of the lake with a huge statue of Morelos stuck on top. It was a steep climb up to the tiny graveyard where indigenous families were setting up altars on graves.
It was a weird scene, tons of tourists winding our way through the tombs, most of us trying out best not to step on top of the graves laying so closely together. We watched families sit quietly together, lighting candles and watching over their deceased husbands, wives, grandparents, and friends. It wasn't what I had expected to encounter after hearing so many people exclaim that Pátzcuaro was "the place" to go for Día de Los Muertos, it wasn't an event meant for tourists, but simply locals celebrating their loved ones.
On our second day there, we wandered through the town, shopped at the artisan market, tried delicious, handmade ice cream, and stopped by the Artisan Contest tent. The state of Michoacán is known for it's artisans and the contest displayed the best of the best! The art was really incredible, so delicate and detailed. My favorites were the Catarinas, clay skeleton dolls dressed in Victorian garb.
In the evening, Jamai and I went out to eat with the other Fulbrighters but didn't order quite right. We split a salad (as a rule of thumb, Mexico doesn't really do salad that well) and a delicious but small portion of a bean soup with cheese and sweet chile. After wandering around the market looking for a few gifts, Jamai and I went to another restaurant for drinks and decided to order a second dinner... I got the exact same soup (better the second time!) and Jamai got the mole enchiladas. We cheersed our fruity drinks to being together again, at least for a little while.
Normally I work on Saturdays but my school decided to give me the day off to celebrate Día de los Muertos. I had heard that the little town of Pátzcuaro in the state of Michoacán was widely known for it's celebrations and a handful of other Fulbrighters were going so Jamai and I made our way West. Pátzcuaro is on a lake that is dotted with little island pueblos, Janitizio being the best known for Día de Los Muertos. Just around dark, we boarded a lancha and left for the island. Janitzio is a steep mountain plunked down in the middle of the lake with a huge statue of Morelos stuck on top. It was a steep climb up to the tiny graveyard where indigenous families were setting up altars on graves.
It was a weird scene, tons of tourists winding our way through the tombs, most of us trying out best not to step on top of the graves laying so closely together. We watched families sit quietly together, lighting candles and watching over their deceased husbands, wives, grandparents, and friends. It wasn't what I had expected to encounter after hearing so many people exclaim that Pátzcuaro was "the place" to go for Día de Los Muertos, it wasn't an event meant for tourists, but simply locals celebrating their loved ones.
On our second day there, we wandered through the town, shopped at the artisan market, tried delicious, handmade ice cream, and stopped by the Artisan Contest tent. The state of Michoacán is known for it's artisans and the contest displayed the best of the best! The art was really incredible, so delicate and detailed. My favorites were the Catarinas, clay skeleton dolls dressed in Victorian garb.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)