Parting Shots

Now that I'm leaving for home soon, I'd like to share some of my favorite photos taken in Guanajuato. A snap-shot tour of one of the most beautiful cities in my world.

Beautiful children ...

Colorful images ...

Colorful history ... (For 11 years the head of Father Miguel Hidalgo, placed in an iron cage, hung from this hook at one corner of the Alhóndiga de Granaditas as a warning to the Mexican revolutionaries. This building, site of one of the first battles for Mexico's independence from Spain, now houses a fine museum.)

Great examples of Churrigueresque (Mexican baroque) architecture ...


Celia's beautiful gardens ...

And a view of the city center from the Pipila overlook.

El Sol y La Montaña

The sun was out almost all day today, so as soon as the dew’d dried and it’d warmed up a bit (or to be more truthful: as soon as I got my lazy self out of bed—hey, it was Saturday), I grabbed my camera and walked the trail that winds down the mountain and eventually comes out in the city, ending on the main north-south street, Calle Alhóndiga, just north of Camino Real Guanajuato

(Trivia/local gossip: A taxi driver told me that this hotel, Camino Real, is owned by the daughter of former President Vicente Fox; and another person told me that her sibling now owns Casa Colorado, another exclusive hotel on the opposite side of the city in the mountains).

I’d walked this trail before, but didn’t have my camera with me and regretted it. Every time I walk it, there are new things to notice, new perspectives, new flowers, an uprooted cactus, strange tracks.

This is a view of the school, Instituto Miguel de Cervantes, from the trail. If you know where to look, you can almost see my little apartment.

Spencer, one of the students, told me that these cactus berries are good to eat as long as they're red. I tried some. They weren't bad and I'm still alive. Thanks, Spencer.

I often see hikers, joggers and even mountain bikers on the trail, but it was deserted except for me. And the big ants.

So many pretty surprises along the way ...

Here's another view toward the school. To the left of the photo you can see the stack from the mine in Valenciana.

Around another bend and still no one but me. And the ants. An Indiana Jones movie, minus the plot and action.

As soon as the path turned to the north side of the mountain, these little red flowers started popping into sight. Happy little flowers.

Across the valley, the Mina de Rayas and the cathedral at Cata comes into view.

I moseyed along, soaked in the vistas, took photos, got bit by big ants, broke my shoe, and barely made it back to my little apartment before I peed my pants. It was one of those times that I wished I were a man, if you catch my drift.

Later, after siesta, camera again in tow, I went the opposite direction, up the mountain to the cobblerock intersection at the Mina Valenciana, to the Loncheria Los Erizos to buy a couple of cokes.

Along the way there’s a trash trailer that’s for tires only, but there’s usually some household garbage scattered around. Enough food trash to attract opossums. Sometimes there's an unfortunately slow one squished on the cobblerocks nearby. Today there were two freshly murdered carcasses to walk around. Don’t worry, I don’t photograph road kill. It wouldn't do justice to the smell anyway.

As I neared the mine entrance, circled by little tourist tiendas, I heard a commotion and saw most of the shop venders standing outside, laughing, cheering and offering words of encouragement to three young men trying, unsuccessfully so far, to load up a horse into their trailer.

The horse was determined and let the handlers know it, as they pulled on ropes, pushed at the animal, and tried to coerce it into the trailer.

It took many tries with the horse balking and kicking and trying to bite at the ropes, and once the horse nearly escaped.

Finally the would-be vaqueros got their caballo loaded and slapped each other on the back and wiped the sweaty dust from their faces and clothes.

There was a round of applause as the vaqueros drove off toward Santa Rosa, and then the crowd dispersed. Several of the shopkeepers shook their heads, looking as disappointed as if they’d lost a bet.

As if the thunder wasn't a clue, it began to rain big drops and I walked as fast as was safe on the cobblerocks. I had forgotten about the dead trasheaters in the road. and when I grazed the fence on one side I startled one of the yard dogs or roofdogs and the concert of yapping and thunder began. It was still underway. to some extent, a full ten minutes after I reached my apartment.

I think these dogs must get in trouble if they don't bark at everything. They bark throughout the day (and night), for whatever reason. It can't be any kind of alarm. I haven't seen a person yet come out to see why the damn dogs are barking.

Dog Days Are Over?

News from home (i.e., Terlingua) usually makes my day while I'm here in Mexico, but not today. I'm saddened to find out that dogs (yes, our best friends) have been banned from the Terlingua Porch. Again.

Dogs have been banned from the Porch before. I vaguely remember seeing a sign posted to that effect for a short while. But, like others, I assumed this applied to foreign dogs unfamiliar with Porch etiquette. Certainly not our local dogs.

Since we have only cats at home, I've sorta adopted many of the dogs of Terlingua: Duke, Stormy, Bessie, Jake, Angel, Sugar, Momo, Jesus, Lluvia, Brown Dog, and more. I love these dogs. And most of the time, when I get to love on these dogs, it's at the Porch. They're regulars, kinda like Uh and Dr. Doug. The Porch just isn't the Porch without 'em.

Now there's a new rule. And supposedly it's supposed to stick. I suppose.

This newly enforced rule follows an incident last week when a local dog bit a little girl's face. Those are the facts. But for the whole story (since I wasn't there), I have to rely on hearsay.

Here's what I heard: The child's parents (tourists?) were eating and drinking in the Starlight and allowed their precious daughter to wander off. In a strange place. The child approached a Porch dog and took away his/her bone. The dog reacted by snapping at her and unfortunately (for everyone involved) nipped her face.

The parents were appalled. The child was distraught and hurt. The dog was put down. An edict was issued barring all canine creatures from our beloved Porch.

And yes, it's quite upsetting that a child was bitten at the Porch. I'm upset about that. Everyone is. But I know from experience that you should never take food away from a strange dog. Or cat. Or even another human being. And if I know that, doesn't everyone?

And another thing. Why was the child unsupervised? At the very least, you'd think someone would have had a lazy eye on her. Not that I'm trying to pin the blame, but as a parent, I know that when my child was out of my sight and not under my protection, anything could (and almost always did) happen.

I'm sad about the whole situation. I don't think it's fair to say that the edict is an over-reaction, but I think that dogs are kind of like children; they should be somewhat supervised. Particularly in public. And most particularly around tourons and their kids.

Guanajuato Saturday Night

Each Saturday night I've been here I'll sit at my laptop writing and listen to the frogs almost, almost, drown out the sounds of a city-wide fiesta. Over the course of these past three weekends I've come to realize that it's only the sound of Saturday night in Guanajuato.

Even up here in Valenciana (and isn't the view spectacular, by the way?), you can hear the boom boom boom of the heavy bass of the music, plentiful gritos and other sounds of festivity in the valley below. And at irregular intervals, there are fireworks on this full moon night.

And of course, this Saturday night is special; it’s the last Saturday before school starts. It seems every event in life is celebrated in Guanajuato. It’s a rejoicing of life, another day conquered, And, still, we’re here to live it to its fullest.

Life here is a celebration, or at the very least, an excuse for celebration.

Guilt Trip?

I'm finding that one of the best things about staying alone anywhere is the 'clean house' factor. I surprised myself to find that when I swept all the floors in this apartment, there's hardly any dirt. Not only is there a lack of dust, there's no time for things to dry out enough to make dust--enought to blow in the air. It makes for a really cool, clean humidity (that, by the way, is great for this desert-parched skin).

Other than traceable amounts of dust, lint and my hair, there was little to sweep out. After mopping, the place seems almost sterile. I mean, you wouldn't even feel guilty using this place as a makeshift operating room; that's how clean it feels.

I miss my cats.

I miss the constant fussing at them (with a heartful of love), the constant reminders that they are a part of my life. Of course, I can think of lots of reasons why I don't miss them, too, but isn't it just that way with the things you love? And it's possible that my cats have taken the places of my children somewhat. I'm willing to admit that. Maybe it's just maternal, this need for having little ones around.

On the other hand, I do also have to admit that I don't miss the constant cleaning. It's been almost like having a maid, but without having to stretch the budget.

But I still miss my cats ... there's just no accounting for irrationality, is there?

Local Art

Each week, the Spanish students here at the institute have a couple of field trips. Last week, we traveled a short distance from Guanajuato eastward through the Sierra Madre Mountains (toward Dolores Hidalgo–a beautiful drive!), to a small town called Santa Rosa. There we visited the Aguilera family's ceramics shop and factory where their line of beautiful ceramics–Mayolica–have been produced by this same family for more than 45 years. Don't confuse Mayolica with talavera, though, because they are two different types of ceramics.

The name 'Mayolica' is derived from Mallorca, a Spanish island on the commercial naval route to Italy, where Mallorcan ceramics are created. When the Spanish brought new skills to the indigenous people of Mexico, the Mallorcan technique was taught to a very few craftsmen, and the Aguilera family is continuing this beautiful tradition today.

The clay is dug locally, mixed and–in this case–thrown.

From digging and mixing their special clay, to 'throwing' or casting individual pieces to painting, this large family has an impressive collection of pieces for sale in their store. Most of their pieces are exported throughout Mexico and around the world. In the U.S., Earth and Fire Imports in Terlingua (www.earthandfireimports.com) offers Mayolica ceramics at very reasonable prices.

The clays of these fine ceramics are processed by decantation. Once the thrown and molded pieces are dry, they are given a first firing in a large gas-fired kiln. Next the pieces are coated with a bisque glaze and painted in the five colors traditionally used in Mallorca: blue, green, mother of pearl, yellow and black. More recently reds and purples have been incorporated in the designs. Once the pieces are painted, they are fired a second time at a higher temperature that sets both the glaze and the vivid colors.

This is the newest generation of the Aguilera family. They are coating tiles with bisque. Then they stack them to dry before they are painted and fired a second time.

These pieces are waiting to be decorated and fired. Some of the pieces, like the soup tureen on the lower shelf, are molded.

Before the designs are painted, they must be drawn. This is the first step in becoming a ceramic painter/artist.

Next they are painted.

True Mallorcan pieces use only five vibrant colors, but over the years the Aguileras have added more colors to their repertoire.

When we visited, there were at least ten artists painting different pieces. Each artist has his or her own unique touch and specializes in certain designs. The patterns range from fruits, florals, religious and typical scenes, animals and fish, and even Day of the Dead designs. The scope of the designs are as varied as the artists' talents. It was amazing to watch them at work.

Each step of the process is completely manual, and since each piece is decorated by hand, each piece is a unique work of art.

It was truly inspiring to see a real-life family business keeping up the tradition, and maintaining and improving the quality of their work as time goes by. Families are such an integral part of Mexican culture and this family business seems to have made working together and passing along their skills to each generation a viable and successful business.

Here's a finished piece. Because Don Quijote is a local icon (Guanajuato hosts the annual Cervantino festival), there were several pieces of the would-be knight.

And of course, after touring the production side of the business, we had to visit the store. There were so many beautiful pieces to choose from, it was difficult making a decision at what we just really had to have.

Here's a view (the only shot that came out) inside their store. Unfortunately, it's hard to see how rich and vibrant the colors are; sorry, you'll just have to use your imagination on this one.

I bought one piece, a baking dish (oh, and did I mention that all their ceramics are lead-free and oven-proof?) with a Catrina, the famous gussied-up Day of the Dead lady.

If only I had more room in my GMOG suitcase, I'm sure I'd have come back with more!

¡Cuidado!

The wireless signal to my apartment in Guanajuato has been flaking out on me lately, and it's been strange to not have Internet access to any world or local news events (I have no television or radio), although I'm sure the world is not missing me. No news of the presidential race in the States, no weather updates, and I have no clue what Britney Spears and Paris Hilton are up to! Thankfully.

The good news is that I've had quality time to study Spanish and work on building up my vocabulary in that lovely language. There are so many words that are similar to their English counterparts, you'd think that would make it easier, but it really doesn't. Those old pronunciation habits have a way of shining through no matter how much I try to roll my "R" or slip into that Spanish rhythm.

And, as in English, there are so many Spanish words with double meanings. I think it's oddly appropriate that the word for "I hope" (espero) is the same word for "I wait." Because isn't that usually the way it is? I mean, you wouldn't wait if you didn't have hope, right?

Last night I noticed a dark object on the floor at the corner of my bed. Thinking it was a torn piece of dark fabric, I reached down to pick it up. Just in time I realized that it was alive! Yipes! I hadn't even suspected a scorpion! (Guess I've been away from the desert too long.)

I was glad that he posed long enough to have his picture taken, and then I took care of him. From now on, you can bet that I'll be checking my shoes before putting them on. Ouch!

Mercado Hidalgo (or Sensory Overload)

I remember when my son graduated from high school, a family friend gave him a Dr. Seuss book, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!, and an atlas. I always thought that was the perfect gift combination for a youngster about to go out on his own. (Well, not really ‘on his own,’ but you get my drift.) Thanks, Pat!

That’s kind of the way I feel here, thousands of miles from family and friends, experiencing new adventures complete with sights, sounds, smells and surprising occurrences.

Yesterday I went to Guanajuato's famous market, Mercado Hidalgo, in the heart of the city. It’s a huge building, and if there were such a thing as a city block in Guanajuato, it’d take up a whole one. Its exterior looks a lot like a European train station.

But on the inside, it’s anything but.

This is the ‘typical’ Mexican market, with cheesy souvenirs, colorful clothing and gift items, leather goods, yummy food and drinks, and fresh fruits and vegetables. There are more delicious smells contained within this building than anywhere I’ve ever been. If you close your eyes and inhale, it’s hard to tell where you are, there are so many different aromas competing for your attention. It makes me feel like I’m ten again and at the carnival.

In the produce areas I always smell the fresh cilantro and onions first; it’s a very comforting smell. Get closer and the smell of fragrant mangoes, citrus and peppers wafts right into your nose-holes.

Around the food booths, there’s the smell of salsas, seafood sopas, roasting meat, carnitas (my favorite), and warm bolillos (chewy bread rolls) begging you to come hither. Walk down by the leather goods and take a deep breath, and you think you’ve stumbled upon a herd of chaps-clad cowboys.

I have to admit that I do usually avoid the butcher shops in the back of the building. Now, there's a smell that I really don't cotton to even though I am a meat-eater. I just don't like the smell of it raw. Yuck.

I love this market, because there’s always something going on, either inside or out. There’s always music and there’s always lots of chatter between vendors and customers, or between vendors and vendors. And everything moves at its own pace. It’s almost like being in another country! (wrote the silly gringa)

Some of the vendors are friendly and fun.

To others, it’s just, well, it’s just a job. ("Is it quitting time yet? And when are all these crazy turistas going home?")

There are two level at the mercado: the ground level and the second level that circles around the edges of the building. There are three staircases that lead up to the second level, for your shopping convenience.

But everywhere it’s a fiesta for the senses … next time I go back I'll get a couple of bolillos! Don't know why I didn't the first time ...

Rain Good

The rainy season in Guanajuato is just that. Rain and more rain. One of my first purchases here was an umbrella (sumbria) for that very reason. Last night's thunderstorms knocked the power off a couple of times, but not for very long.

But here are some of the benefits of the rain: the flowers are incredible!

Aren't these bougainvilleas gorgeous? I thought so. Here are more flores for you to enjoy!
And all of these are in Celia's beautiful gardens. She attributes her green thumb to the plentiful lluvia (rain), but I think she's definitely got the knack, although the rains don't hurt any. Heck, even her cactus is growing moss!