Tag Archives: expat living in Mexico

Hallelujah And Amen

30 Nov

In much of the world, a wedding is quite predictable, the dress, the rings, the cake. When we were invited to the wedding of our Mayan housekeeper Lucero, we jumped at the chance. She is from a postage stamp sized village thirty minutes from Bacalar. It was our fourth wedding in twelve years and they have run the gambit from top shelf to backyard.

Lucero’s dress was stunning and she looked very nervous, like most brides.

This wedding was on a whole different level. Ninety-some percent of Mexico is Christian with most of that Catholic. But not in this area. There are a lot of Mennonites, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists and Pentecostals. We had never been to a Pentecostal wedding.

The first of three preachers.

The wedding started at 6pm on a Thursday. We put on our one “fancy” outfit and prayed that the thunder we heard would not spoil the occasion. The festivities started on time which was no small miracle in Mexico. It was all quite unexpected from there.

The children were adorable and looked at the strangers inquisitively.

The wedding involved standing for most of two plus hours, arms raised, and singing, amen-ing, and hallelujah-ing. Three different preachers tag-teamed to inspire, admonish, and harangue in Spanish. It would have been ok except the volume produced by half a dozen large speakers emitted a sound heard by God themself. I stuffed tissue in my ears but it did not help. We left early.

By the time we left, the seats were filled in. I think the whole town was in attendance.

I hated to leave. It meant so much to Luceto that we would come, and four old white women in a sea of about 200 brown faces did not go unnoticed. The family tried to feed us before we left but our tolerance for bleeding ears was spent.

Lots of sleepy little faces.

There are times that I admire the devotion, enthusiasm, and conviction of religion. My personal spiritual beliefs are quieter and more internal. I am grateful that everyone gets to find their own place, even if it’s not quiet or peaceful but right for them.

DOS TORTAS

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No One Would Believe This Week

1 Nov

A few days ago, I shared on FB a video of the Mexican voladores or ceremonial “flyers.” I reminisced of the first time I saw this mesmerizing performance in the mountains of Puebla in central Mexico. It is traditionally performed to bring the rain or ask the gods for anything the village needs. Today, it is tourist entertainment all over Mexico. Pass the hat.

https://share.google/yUG70EmZ9PveNGVHV

Going to Cuetzala, where the tradition originated, was an adventure in itself. Hours on a chicken bus climbing through high, coffee-producing mountains where the locals drank instant Nescafe.

Coffee drying on the roof circa 1973

University students were invited by the local priest to teach English to children in exchange for a cot and a hot.

Lovely old cemetery.
Traditional garb outside the cathedral. People did NOT like their pictures taken.
The Sunday market with locals mixing with outsiders.

One day our little friend group walked to a nearby waterfall. The instructions were to follow “that” path. 👈

Off on an adventure.
We could hear it before we could see it.
Off came the clothes. If there’s water, I’m in it.

My brother read my FB post after I expressed a long-held desire to return to Cuetzala and commented

“You have the time.
You have the means.
Lisa would be up for it.
Go!”

It is so easy to look at someone else’s life and make assumptions. I admit our life looks pretty sweet. I had to laugh at his cavalier instructions as this week was exceptionally insane.

We got solar hooked up, yeah! (After a week of people tromping about).

A tree fell on electrical wires leaving my MIL without electricity for five days. She hadn’t yet been added to our solar system.

Our son in Austin fell and broke  his collarbone.

He is being cared for by family. Trip to Austin averted.

Stella got into it with a neighbor dog and had to go to the vet.

Poor baby. She likely instigated the encounter.
She refuses to say what happened but there were a lot of bloody pawprints.

We were leaving on Thursday to visit Merida for Day of the Dead (DOTD) when our house sitter was picked up by immigration (another story entirely).

Car insurance – we had to renew for one car and discovered we had lapsed for the other. It was a stressful ordeal of multiple phone calls over several days in Spanish even though they say someone speaks English. 

It is not easy to pick up and go, something we didn’t foresee when moving here. No complaints, it just is what it is.

We will get away from hearth and home and DOGS and hopefully get  some great DOTD photos. Until then.

DOS TORTAS

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When In Rome

6 Jul

One thing I like about living in Mexico is that I get to ignore most US holidays. I am not an expat that tries to recreate my origin country in Mexico. No backyard barbecue dressed in the american flag for us.

My MIL loves Christmas for the presents of course, so I don’t get to skate past that one. We do manage to keep the decorations and gift giving to a minimum.

Such was not the case at the Fourth of July bash that we attended with our kids in Northern California. The rocking event put on by their friends is in its twenty-third year. The party spills out from the garage, to the driveway and into the street. Food was catered, a disc jockey blasted and kids had much to entertain them.

My grandson was turning blue before his mom could drag him out of the dunk tank.
USers are so subtle.
One cranky child missing.

All in all a good time was had. The Tortas however were in bed before the fireworks 🎆 went off. Thank God for Uber.

DOS TORTAS

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Here We Go Again

15 Jun

In 1973 I came to Mexico to participate in a “junior year abroad” college program. I was twenty-one and knew nothing of Mexican history, culture or US/Mexico relations. So the morning I sat with three fellow students on the zocalo in Puebla, sipping cafe con leche and munching unfamiliar breakfast pastries remains fixed in my memory.

The portales in the center of Puebla.

We were newly arrived and felt very grown up experiencing a new and magical world. Across the street was a large park (zocalo) and on the other side of the square, a cathedral.

It was a beautiful day when suddenly everything changed.

From a distance we heard an unrecognizable sound approaching. It grew louder and turned into a ruckus. What at first appeared to be a parade, in actuality was an angry mob banging pots, chanting and dragging an effigy of Uncle Sam hanging by the neck. To say we were terrified is an understatement. The four of us took off running, zig-zagging down side streets and putting distance between us and the protesters. In retrospect we were not in any danger, but of course we didn’t know that.

I have no knowledge of what the protest was about. The US and Mexico have never been the best of friends. It was the time of Richard Nixon, Watergate and gas shortages in the US. I fully expected to return home to a revolution. We all know how that turned out.

Here I am again in Mexico reading about protests in the US and not able to participate. If we were there, Lisa would probably have to lock me in the bedroom to keep this 73 year old woman from joining in. My days of marching against the Vietnam war and participating in university sit-ins are long gone. I’m glad there are others to take up the gauntlet.

I can’t believe our country is again taking to the streets in protest. Past actions helped put an end to the Viet Nam war. This time it’s not just young people protesting. Hopefully the outcome will have results in the ballot box.

Anti-war protesters 1970s. I’m probably in that crowd somewhere

DOS TORTAS

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Mexican Markets Make Me Happy

20 Apr

There’s nothing like a Saturday morning spent exploring a little neighborhood mercado. This particular one is a favorite of ours. There are plants blooming, music that makes you want to dance and many food vendors filling the air with their enticing aromas.

From top left, my MIL, a pineapple, bougainvillea and spicy habanero peppers.

One of my favorite things to do is to strike up a conversation with locals. They are so curious about us foreigners and when they find someone who can speak Spanish, the questions come pouring out, especially about current US politics.

My favorite tropical fruit, guanábana aka soursop. Creamy and delicious.
Sweet tamale with raisins.

Sampling this tamale brought happy tears to my eyes. Tamales in the tropics are made in banana leaves. These tamales were advertised as estilo de DF or made in the style of central Mexico, cooked in corn husks. They tasted exactly like the ones my Mexican mama made for me to celebrate my twenty-first birthday in 1973. It’s funny how a taste or smell can take you back.

No market day would be complete without a frenchie. This stunning brindle was a bruiser named Thor or in Spanish Tor.

An abundance of color. Papayas and limes.

My mobility is still limited but this was a great way to test my limitations, A really fun morning.

DOS TORTAS

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Time For An Adventure

30 Mar

With the majority of our outings of late to the doctor, dentist and physical therapist, I needed a bit of adventure. The Free Zone is a 28.5 acre duty-free shopping area between Mexico and our neighbor Belize, about 30 minutes from our door. It is known for cheap clothing, alcohol, perfume and household goods from China, Hong Kong and godknowswhere.

I am not a shopper. My current limited mobility isn’t the only thing that keeps me from walking the streets and perusing the aisles. I did however need a few things that I’ve been unable to find in Bacalar and neighboring Chetumal.

I haven’t been to the Free Zone in years, but the last time I bought a handful of gauzy cotton dresses that are great for tropical weather. They’ve all been worn out of existence and turned into rags. Time for replacements. There is also an international grocery store that carries Indian spices and many uncommon things (uncommon to this part of Mexico). I fulfilled my quest to find miso (Japanese) and black salt (Indian).

Three for $10.

I drove into the Free Zone and immediately found a parking space, which is unheard of. I found my dresses and then used a tuk tuk to get around. It beat me trying to maneuver in unfamiliar territory.

20p or $1.00 minimum

The adventure was complete with lunch at a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant and google directions back across the Mexican border. A quick once over by immigration and back on the road to Bacalar and an uneventful ride home.

I’m not sure what I ate, but it took some convincing that I didn’t want meat. The dish was very spicy.

We like uneventful.

DOS DORTAS

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Culinary Bacalar

9 Mar

The timing of many of the cultural events that happen in Bacalar don’t work for us. I totally understand scheduling performances for the evening. We live in the tropics, and most of the time, IT’S HOT. Waiting for the sun to go down invites breezes. The trouble is, the announcement says, 7pm and nothing gets started until 9. Being the idiots we are, we still show up at 7.

Caribbean Food Festival Starts at 4? Let’s go!
A unique food truck
Hand woven bags.
How’s this for grilling pineapple?

Besides the crowd and too much walking for me, it was good to get out, try something new, and be home before dark.

Welcome to Bacalar

DOS TORTAS

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Maybe We Should Be Smugglers

16 Feb

In 2018, Clint Eastwood made a movie THE MULE, based on the true story of an eighty something man who became a drug mule to pay off debt and ingratiate himself back into his estranged family. Of course no one suspected for a long time that a grizzled, elderly was moving cocaine.

At the same time Mr Eastwood was making his movie, Lisa and I were driving up Baja California on our way to help out with our new born twin granddaughters. We were stopped continuously while large German shepherds climbed through our truck. Apparently probable cause does not exist in Mexico. Quite the experience.

As time has gone on, twelve years to be exact, our hair has gotten grayer, and the number of random searches in our area have definitely increased. They’re probably due to our proximity to the border with Belize and the general insanity in the world.

Many foreigners get nervous at being pulled over by the military wearing ski masks and toting machine guns. We’ve seen it so often that we hardly pay any attention.

It must be our old white women privilege. We always slow down and wave as they flag us through. Even this week we passed through a new pop-up check point and inquiring eyes peered into the car and waved us on. I always crack jokes that “the drugs are in the back,” to which my wife hisses, “don’t jinx us.”

Apparently we don’t fall into whatever profile they’re looking for. IDK, I think we could make good smugglers. What do you think?

DOS TORTAS

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Let’s Skip 2024

5 Jan

Someday when I’m strolling down memory lane, sharing my life history with grands, or in my memoir, lol, I think I’ll skip over 2024. I see posts all over Instagram with smiling people flashing photos celebrating their accomplishments, weddings, vacations, reunions, you name it. I’ll pass thank you.

Truthfully the year wasn’t entirely a bust. Our out of the blue trip to Europe was over the top fun. I keep going back to the memories to get me through. It helps.

Amsterdam

Ever the optimist I’m always looking for the gifts and the lessons, even if doing so brings me to tears.

I learned not to dismiss my experience with “it could have been worse.” There’s so much going on in the world that people are dealing with. I try not to complain and take life one day at a time. Some days it’s all I can manage.

I learned to appreciate my wife who has done the lion’s share of taking care of me since my accident and running our house. She shops, cooks and does everything possible to facilitate my healing. I feel very loved.

Paris

I learned that accidents happen, whether it’s getting robbed twice in four months or tripping over my own feet. The longer I exist on the planet, the odds go up for a life changing event, sometimes not a good one.

So as we head into 2025 I feel optimistic. I was born on the 25th day of February in the year 1952 (2-25-52). I’m not sure if 2025 has any astrological significance but I’m holding out hope nonetheless for a vastly improved year.

DOS TORTAS

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Visiting Notre Dame Cathedral

1 Dec

Watching Notre Dame burn in 2019 was heartbreaking. The entire world was horrified. When Lisa and I saw the news this week of the completed renovation and pending reopening, it sparked memories of our trip to Paris in March 2024.

April 2019 Stock photo

I know that the French get a bad rep, especially from entitled American tourists. Maybe the unfriendliness is true away from the city, but Paris was a delight for us. We stayed in a quaint boutique hotel behind the Louvre. The ancient “lift” took us to within two floors of our attic hideaway. The view was of the surrounding buildings, nothing to write home about but we enjoyed it immensely. The best part of the hotel stay, for me, was the daily warm baguettes for breakfast! I was in heaven.

View from the attic.

We are not foodies but enjoyed the waitstaff at every restaurant. They were multilingual, friendly and happy. One time we shared a table with a young couple from Mexico. They were living abroad for work and happy to speak Spanish.

St. Eustache

One of our stops was of course Notre Dame. We sat on the bleachers behind a plywood barrier, gazing upward at the scaffolding and the very busy workers. It was a gray day but we sat for a long time taking in both the sadness and the hope. It’s hard to believe it’s finished.

Artists across the Seine from the cathedral. Stock photo.

I guess we’ll have to go back. Of the five cities we visited on our whirlwind tour, London, Amsterdam, Paris, Munich and Salzburg, Paris was my favorite. And there’s so much we missed.

DOS TORTAS

PS Forgive my stock photos. All my pictures were stolen in my phone.

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