Ajijic is getting Too Crowded!

Postales del Paraiso

Everyone talks about the multitude of new arrivals that continue to flood into Ajijic and how fast the neighborhood is growing. Everywhere we go it keeps getting more and more crowded.

Just this week we’ve got three new additions to the neighborhood!

If this keeps up we’ll soon be running out of room!

Abuelinda's Cooking School

Postales del Paraiso

Abuelinda's Cooking School

It’s a Mexican history lesson, it’s a cultural emersion course, it’s a health seminar, an international economics tutorial, an anthropology lesson, a culinary shopping experience, and it’s a cooking class!

Linda has been cooking in Latin America and the Caribbean for 35 years, and the classes that she offers are an astonishing mix of everything she’s encountered during that time. Every Wednesday she offers a “Tianguis to Table” class which starts in the local open air street market called the tianguis (tay-yán-gays) learning about and selecting local fruit, vegetables, Mexican foods, and then returning to Abuelinda’s kitchen and preparing a meal. She also offers classes from the culinary worlds of Chiapas, Oaxaca, Veracruz, Puebla, all unique, all fascinating.

We started early one morning at the local tianquis  where blue plastic tarps tethered haphazardly to trees and each other arc low over the jostling crowds. The  rows of tables that line the cobblestone streets feature beautifully crafted corn-husk dolls, excruciatingly detailed beadwork by the local Huichol Indians, magnificent woolen shawls and clothing from the highlands outside of Chiapas, homeopathic remedies, and an astonishing array of fruits, vegetable, meats, fish, cheeses.  Queso fresco and panela cheeses, spiny nopal cactus, plump blueberries, roasted garbanzo beans, natural pig skin pickled in vinegar (cueritos), or fried (chicharrón), candied quince, fresh fish, chickens, flowers, The variety is endless!

We bought ingredients for our afternoon menu of Chiles en Nogada, deep green poblano chilies, a pork shoulder, plump raisins, dried mango, candied bisnaga cactus, pears, apples, peaches, plantains, Mexican canela, pomegranates, Queso de cabra, walnuts, rice, the list goes on.

But it was in Abuelindas kitchen that the real magic happened. We were each guided through an assigned a task, charring the poblanos over an open flame, dicing the pork, mixing and grinding spices in a molcajete (volcanic rock mortar & pestle), chopping fruits, seeding pomegranates, all accompanied by a running commentary and explanation of our many unfamiliar ingredients, and delightful stories about the cultures and cuisines of Mexico.

And then the best part. We got to enjoy the fruits of our labors. The roasted, smoky, earthy flavor of the poblano chile is the essence of Mexico, and when stuffed with the warm picadillo filling of diced pork, fruits, nuts, herbs, and spices, covered in a cool, creamy walnut sauce, and sprinkled with tangy, tart, pomegranate seeds, the result is simply heaven! I could eat this every day of my life!

Dia de la Candelaria

Postales del Paraiso

Dia de la Candelaria

If you found a plastic baby Jesus in your King’s Cake on El dia de Los Reyes (Three Kings Day) on January 6^ththen listen up!  Tradition states that if you get the plastic baby, you are the designated Padrino (Godfather) and get to host the fiesta for everyone on Dia de la Candelaria which is today (Feb. 2) and, among other responsibilities, you have been designated to provide tamales for everyone! Perhaps you should have been paying attention a little earlier, because this is a really big deal (and a lot of work).

Día de la Candelaria, like so many other Mexican celebrations, is a fascinating fusion of pre-Hispanic traditions and Catholic beliefs. It’s a seasonal celebration (midway between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox), an agricultural celebration (the January rains will determine the best time to plant, indeed they’re thought to predict the weather for the entire year), and a couple of religious celebrations (the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin, and the Presentation at the Temple). 

In many cultures the forty days of postpartum confinement after the birth of a child, often referred to as ‘lying-in’, provides a recovery period for the mother and a time for mother and child to bond (referred to as “la cuarentena” or “forty days” in Latin American countries, the source of the English word “quarantine”). At the end of this period a ceremony called “churching” provides a blessing or purification and celebrates the recovery of the mother and her return to the church and a full social life. Celebrated on February 2nd, forty days after Christmas, the feast of the “Purification of the Virgin”, coincides with the time, according to Jewish law, that it was customary to bring a newborn baby to the temple, thus the feast of the “Presentation of the Christ Child at The Temple”.

In Mexico the baby Jesus is the most important part of the Christmas celebration. On Christmas Eve the baby is placed in the Nativity scene, and on January 6, King’s Day, the child is brought gifts from the Three Kings, and then on February 2^nd, the official end of the Christmas season, the figure of the Christ child that has been lying in the manger must be presented at the local church to be blessed in a ceremony that remembers the presentation at the Temple.

But this is not as simple as it sounds. The swaddling clothes that Jesus has been wearing for the past month or so are not the proper attire for this very special occasion. So if you were the lucky one to find a plastic baby Jesus in your Rosca de Reyes on Three Kings Day, then you are the designated “Padrino” (godfather) and must, among various other responsibilities, dress the baby Jesus in the finest of  clothes for his big day. The first year the baby is traditionally dressed in white representing El Nino de las Palomas (The Child of the Doves) or El Nino de las Azucenas (The Child of the Lilies), signifying purity. The second year the Baby Jesus is dressed with a blue, yellow or pink gown and the third year, and thereafter, he is dressed according to the preference of the Godparents, but traditionally as the Nino de la Candelaria (Child of the Candles) with a white gown, a candle in the left hand and flowers in the right.

The Padrino also takes candles to the church and in some agricultural communities he will also take a handful of seeds to be blessed and pray for a year of abundant harvest. At the end of the church ceremony the Padrinos take the Christ child back to the home where the Rosca de Reyes was served on Three Kings Day and the candles are lit. Later, in the evening there is a traditional “tamalada” where the tamales are made according to the custom of the place. There are many variations depending on which part of the country you reside, some are sweet, some savory, some are wrapped in corn husks, others in banana leaves, but they are all absolutely delicious! Traditionally these are served with “atole de pinole”, a drink made of a toasted corn meal, sometimes sweetened and mixed with cocoa, cinnamon or aniseed,  or “champurrado” (a chocolaty flavored thick drink). What a way to bring the Christmas season to a close!

In addition to The Feast of the Purification of the Virgin and the Presentation of the Christ Child at the Temple, not entirely coincidentally Feb 2^nd falls halfway between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox, a date that signaled that it was time to prepare the earth for planting of crops and of course the need to assess the upcoming weather. Celebrated in Ireland, and other European countries as “Imbolc” (or Saint Brigids’s Day) and in the United States as “Groundhogs Day”, there is also a Spanish tradition referred to as "Cabañuelas" but that's another story.

There's a Plastic Baby Jesus in My Cake!

If you’re fortunate enough to be enveloped by the warmth of family and friends in Mexico during the Christmas season you may be lucky enough to find a baby Jesus hidden in your dessert as you celebrate the Twelfth Night, or Dia de Reyes, (Three Kings Day) on January 6^th.

If you love fruit cake or panettone you’ll love Rosca de Reyes (wreath of the kings), a sweet bread with candied fruits that celebrates the arrival of the Magi. The tradition in Mexico is that whoever finds the baby Jesus in their slice of confection is blessed, and is bestowed the honor of preparing tamales and hosting the celebration of Candlemas on February 2nd.

Sometimes you’ll find multiple baby Jesus’ in the Rosca de Reyes because making tamales is a marathon effort that often involves all of the women in a community. Each woman brings one of the ingredients and each person is responsible for a portion of the production; preparing the masa harina,  cleaning and sorting the corn husks, making the dough, preparing the ingredients, making the sauces , filling the tamales, carefully tying them, steaming the tamales. This is an all day affair that often extends into the evening with all the women in the group gathered in a kitchen, ranchero music playing in the background, and children underfoot. So regardless of your esteem for Punxatawnee Phil, you’ll be too busy making tamales that day to pay much attention to whether the groundhog sees his shadow. But I'm getting ahead of myself, more on Candlemas later.

Three Kings Day is also the day when gifts are brought, not by Santa, but by the Three Kings. Children put their shoes outside their door along with a handful of straw (for the camels and the occasional elephant) and during the night gifts are placed in their shoes. Traditionally these were small hand-wrought toys fashioned from clay or painted sticks, but today of course includes cell phones and upgrades to your favorite electronic device.

This is the feast of the Epiphany as it’s known in much of the world and it brings a celebration of many things. In the Western Christian religion it celebrates the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child, the revelation of God incarnate as Jesus Christ, and in some Eastern denominations the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River by John the Baptist, and in those communities not so strictly bound by religious edict, it's time to box up the Christmas lights and cart the Christmas tree to the local landfill.

In Mexico these celebrations are all intricately woven into the pattern of life. Each celebration is intertwined with the previous one as well as the next throughout the year. Deeply held traditions connect past and future passing these wonderful ceremonies from one generation to the next. 

Bailes Con Chihuahuas

As we step out into the early morning darkness, she's afraid that I'm going to get lost or do something stupid so the dog makes me hold on to one end of the leash so she can lead me home if I go terribly astray.  The streets are quiet save for the roosters calling out their morning prayers, and the only other sign of life is the flash mob of street dogs appearing, disappearing in the spotlight of the street lamps as they rush frantically, noses to the ground, back and forth across the cobblestones.

I lift my head into the cool morning breeze and head off intently toward no place in particular but the dog's interests lie in the opposite direction, closer to the cobblestones. She is as intent in pursuing her pleasures as I am in mine and so the morning tango begins. Two quicksteps "adelante" as she drags me toward the curb, an abrupt twisting "media vuelta" and a stumbling  "atrás" as I attempt to regain my balance and rein her back in, followed by an elaborately executed "corrida garabito" in which we both end up hopelessly entangled in the leash. We continue our hesitant tango for the entertainment of the adobe walls, the amusement of the cobblestones, the silent applause of the moonlight as we dance a little "contrapaso" onto the next block and then round the corner into the final stretch home.

The narrow view down this Mexican street as night meets day and the pink rip in the sky tilts toward orange, makes me question once again, "Did I forget to unplug the toaster?" I've seen this before. Was it the footage of the wildfires raging across California, or that spectacular pipeline explosion in Texas? 

It makes me wonder if Dante Alighieri once lived here. Was this the ethereal light that he struggled to describe in the final canto of the Paradiso? Did Homer walk his dog here too in the early morning hours but neglect to mention Ajijic as the forgotten town in the Odyssey as the source of the repeated epithets extolling the "rhododactylos Eos", the "rose fingered dawn"?

Some mornings Eos arrives as an explosive spectacle, a fiery chariot drawn by powerful horses blazing into the sky accompanied by the endless scheming and chattering of Homer's gods, this morning she appears as a waif, pale and thin, arriving silently, hesitantly, a lonely refugee from the night. Still, not a bad way to begin the day, or to bring yet another year to a close.

We follow the malecon home but our morning tango is brought to an abrupt halt as we stroll onto the bridge and nearly fall into the arroyo. The entire structure is deteriorating. The surface looks more like a cheese grater than a bridge, with several holes large enough to swallow a small dog. 

We approach the largest hole and stare into the void half expecting to find Wile E. Coyote clinging to the edge of the abyss, or perhaps, I thought, this is simply the opposite end of Dante’s extraordinary poem, the place that inspired the opening cantos of The Divine Comedy. I kneel down placing my ear close to the hole, listening for the eldritch voice of Virgil murmuring an invitation to descend into the nine circles below.  I think about trying to block off the hole or at least put up a warning sign, but all I can find is a large paper cup. I think about scrawling a message on it and placing it over the hole,"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate", “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here”, but I figure the message along with the cup would be lost.

Safe at home, as the dog nudges aside the cat and heads for her water bowl, I sit with my coffee, and relate our morning adventure to my wife and I’m delighted to hear that the Garden Guild is (not surprisingly) way ahead of me on the need for bridge repair. The Garden Guild has for years contributed to the community in ways large and small and this year they have raised the money and reached out to forge partnerships with Hector España Ramos, Inside Lakeside, the Municipality, Have Hammers, and others to make the necessary repairs to both bridges and ensure that the malecon remains the heart and soul of Ajijic. Building bridges with the community is something the Garden Guild has excelled at for many years, and this latest project is no exception.

So the dog and I look forward with great anticipation to the completion of the project in the next few weeks when we can dance down the malecon once again, crossing the bridges without being provoked to contemplate the void, and instead turn all our attention to yet another spectacular sunrise. But the leash is still a hindrance to our morning tango so I practice hard to gain the confidence of my dog in the hope that one day perhaps she will let me leave home without it.

Merry Christmas!

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

 ‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through la casa,

Not a creature was stirring – Caramba! Que pasa?

Los niños were tucked away in their camas,

Some in vestidos and some in pajamas.

While Mama worked late in her little cocina,

El viejo was down at the corner cantina.

While hanging the stockings con mucho cuidado,

In hopes that old Santa would feel obligado

To bring all children, both buenos y malos,

A nice batch of dulces and other regalos.

Outside in the yard there arose such a grito,

That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.

I ran to the window and looked out afuera,

And who in the world do you think that que era?

Saint Nick in a sleigh and a big red sombrero,

Came dashing along like a crazy bombero!

And pulling his sleigh instead of venados,

Were eight little burros approaching volados.

I watched as they came and this quaint little hombre

was shouting and whistling and calling by nombre:

“Ay Pancho! Ay Pepe! Ay Cuco! Ay Beto!

Ay Chato! Ay Chopo! Maruca y Nieto!”

Then standing erect with his hands on his pecho,

He flew to the top of our very own techo.

With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea,

He struggled to squeeze down our old chiminea.

Then huffing and puffing at last in our sala,

With soot smeared all over his real suit de gala.

He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos –

For none of the niños had been muy malos.

Then chuckling aloud, seeming muy contento,

He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento.

And I heard him exclaim, and this is verdad,

Merry Christmas to all, and Feliz Navidad!

(Author Unknown)

Rising Waters

The lake is still rising. The shoreline along the malecón has disappeared, the shorebirds that used to strut on stilted legs along the water’s edge are now nesting in the trees, and the playground, once many yards from the gently lapping waves, is now a water-park for the fish as they dart between the submerged swings and teeter-totters. The rains began early this year and they continue.

In a typical year the rain begins in mid June and tapers off beginning in mid October, but it’s now December and it rained again a few days ago.  This is Mexico’s largest lake, about 7.5 miles wide and 50 miles long. The Lerma River starts its journey about 435 miles away near the city of Toluca and  eventually empties into Lake Chapala, so the total watershed is a massive area of about 20,000 square miles, and the lake level will continue to rise over the next few weeks. It’s astonishing to think about how much water is required to raise the level of water by even an inch!

Water laps ever higher against the short wall that protects the line of restaurants along the waterfront, and pelicans paddle between the trees now seemingly standing a-tip-toe in the neck-high water. The boardwalk has disappeared into the marshes, the picnic tables and stone benches sit like remnants of Atlantis at the bottom of a goldfish bowl. 

But the kayaks that required a struggle across yards of pebbled shoreline to launch into the lapping tide can now be slid directly from the rack into knee-deep water, and the long journey from the town pier down the flight of stone stairs to the tour boats is now only a step or two. 

And next July as we bask in the unrelenting heat of the summer sun as it shimmers across this slowly evaporating lake, we’ll look back and marvel at how this could ever have seemed alarming, and boastfully inform our disbelieving visitors just how high the water used to be.