The New Juan Diego

Yesterday was December 12th. Before I go on, I should say that December is quite crazy in general in Oaxaca. From about December 8th onwards, you can pretty well count on parades every night, fireworks every night, festivals every weekend. And then, to top it off, we have three Virgins to help us make December even more fun. First is Juquila, who I have not yet made a pilgrimage to visit. She lives near the coast, and some day (as I have been invited) I will do the three day walk through the Sierras to pay homage to her. Later this month, I promise to blog about Our Lady of Soledad, she is my favorite, but she runs a close race with Guadalupe.

Back to the deal with the 12th. The Virgin of Guadalupe's special day of celebration is December 12th. Guadalupe has a long and very interesting history. Originally I believe she "existed" in Turkey and immigrated to Spain. In 1531, she appeared to a peasant, Juan Deigo. After much back and forth, she pulled off several miracles to help convince a small minded Bishop that he had best build her a shrine, or else. (A recovered ailing Uncle, flowers where no flowers grew before, and her image emblazoned on Juan Diego's cloak. Groups of three worked their special magic even then...)

You can read more about Lupe here: Our_Lady_of_Guadalupe

And so, her history as the Mother of all Mexicans begins. You could debate her authenticity, but you could not debate that she is celebrated. All over Mexico. Real fans might make the pilgrimage to Mexico City to her shrines there. In Oaxaca, her church is over by Llano Park, so last night we head over to help celebrate her. As we are immigrants, we are forgiven for not liming up for hours to be blessed in her church. As we are childless, we are forgiven for not being able to dress our little ones up like Juan Diego:

Is he not the cutest? Thanks to his parents for letting me take the pic!

As white folk walking around, we are encouraged to participate in taking our picture with the live donkeys. We took two. If we had a little Juan Diego, we would have had him on the donkey, of course.

Yes, yes, this is a real donkey...

And this mini donkey is real, too!

And finally, as Ralph is a bit older looking, we are forgiven from not getting on the spinning, turning, rides.

And if this in not forward thinking, I am not sure what is. The modern version of Juan Diego, traveling through the mountains to look for the Bishop not on his mule, but on his shiny red All Terrain Vehicle...

Two down, one Virgin to go. And then... the Radish Festival!

The Hotel - All of It

“You have to live spherically - in many directions. Never lose your childish enthusiasm - and things will come your way.”

― Federico Fellini

The story starts way back in June, maybe July, I can't exactly remember. Before I get to far in the story, let me give you an insight: When Ralph and I moved to Oaxaca, we had no specific goal in mind as to what exactly we would do here. We knew we wanted to run a business, make money, likely we figured something in the tourist industry, but other than those fleeting, nebulous ideas, nothing more. We met a guy in Costa Rica once and his theory was that you either found out what you wanted to do in life, and then found a place to do it, or you found a place you loved, and then figured out a way to live there. We were opting for the latter, wholeheartedly.

Arturo (our Spanish teacher and friend) showed up with an opportunity. Were we interested in renting (and subsequently operating a small hotel? 18 rooms. His landlady was the owner. I said we would think about it.

Ralph and I talked about it. Only if it was turn-key, we decided. If we did not have to dump a whole bunch of capitol into it to get it to be functioning. We spoke to Arturo and told him we wanted to go look at it. In true Oaxaca fashion, we were invited over within the hour.

(Side note: If I have learnt anything from living in Oaxaca, it is that you just have to be willing to go with whatever is happening - a parade blocks the street you need to cross? Stop, enjoy, take pictures, wait, and be where you were originally headed 45 minutes late. Still drives Ralph a bit nuts.)

The hotel was lovely. Reasonably maintained, a bit dated but not terrible, three floors with lovely plants and a third floor kitchen and a rooftop patio with great views. We talked to the owner, and the meeting was typical Oaxacan. I asked if she had records, for the past five years. Oh, of course not, she said, it is just too much paper to keep. Of course, I said, I completely understood, we had just moved out of a house we had lived in for 15 years. I could give a class on efficient paper shredding.

And so we went through the hotel. Room by room. And then we came home and gave it a hard think over a bottle of Malbec. We had two main issues:

• Lifestyle: It was be a 24/7 business for at least the first few years. We like to travel, ski, beach - none of that for a few years.
• Money: They wanted 50,000 MXN in rent, per month. Seemed a bit steep.

Before I go any further, you can google "Hotel Cazomali" and the hotel website will come up.

We both believe there is a ton of opportunity to make that hotel awesome. We also both felt it would take us at least 2 years to get it heading in the awesome direction.

Next steps? We sent them two pages of questions - basically expenses, insurances, guest registries, anything that might help us get a handle on the financial piece. We half expected them to tell us to piss off. Two weeks went by and we got an email, requesting a meeting. The meeting went as I anticipated. They gave us some expense information, no guest information and confirmed what we had suspected.

They run their business as many a Mexican runs his business, taking advantage of the common value that it is OK to do some things under the table. Maybe more than some things. Maybe things like paying all the staff in cash, having no employment contracts, charging nationals no tax if they pay their hotel bill in cash, and the list can go on and on. I explained we would not have the luxury of running our business the same way. I lived in Oaxaca as a Permanent Resident at the pleasure of the government. I am here as a guest. Not complying with laws means deportation for me. Not an option.

At this point, Ralph and I were headed on our 2 month jaunt across 4 countries over two continents, and they too were heading on an extended vacation. We agreed to next steps around the middle of October, when we returned.

Upon return, we met with a lawyer to have a preliminary discussion about law similarities. First right of refusals for purchasing, survival of contracts upon death, inheritance, etc. Nothing special, all seemed reasonable and we liked the lawyer.

We then met with the owners and they did not want to use a lawyer, they wanted to only use a notary, and they wanted to start the process with their own contract. I explained that as a foreigner, unfamiliar with the laws, I felt better with a lawyer. They could certainly draft a contract, or I could ask our lawyer for a draft.

We ended up sending them a draft, which was convenient, because it allowed Ralph and I to look up all the Spanish words and phrases we did not know. When we showed up to review the contract with them, they presented their own.

I had initially proposed a three year drop in initial rent. They disagreed, and felt we were buying an established business. We disagreed. They had not had a review on trip advisor since 2011, nothing notable elsewhere.

In spite of going back and forth several times, I eventually withdrew us from negotiations. The rent they were looking for was just beyond what we could reasonably expect to be successful with, and I was not interested in funding their retirement at the cost of my own nest egg.

We had friends visiting while the thick of negotiations were going on, and bless them, they were so patient and listened and discussed and reviewed and researched and shared their thoughts. We had told many of the potential.

Are we disappointed? Not really. We would have loved the adventure, but we feel good about where we left off. Another friend expects they will be back. We are OK either way. What is supposed to come, will come, and it will be good and right.

Getting Back... Giving Back.. And Putting Up

Busy. When did this become a good thing? Since August, we have been going pretty well non-stop, with time to post a quick little bit on Facebook as we drove or flew or waited for luggage or drove some more. I had always said you would have to work hard to be bored in Oaxaca, for there is rarely a moment, an evening, a morning, when there is not something to draw you into the cobbled streets and music venues, friends with rooftop patios await and then guests arrive. Here we are, November 30th. Christmas decorations are everywhere, the sun is shining, and we have a two week gap between friends visiting. Time to get back to blogging, newsletters, our tour company, our sofa and our Netflix addiction.

(Admittedly it is hard to be truly and with commitment and gusto addicted to Netflix with our schedule, but we make vain attempts at binge watching. We managed two whole episodes of something the other day. Whoa!)

My conundrum is this: Do you want to know what the heck we have been up to since August, or shall I just skip to our failed hotel negotiations and putting up the "family wall"? A bit of both?

I read a quote this morning I want to share: To live in Oaxaca you must do so with all the senses: you must relish it with both your mind and your heart.

Nothing, nothing, nothing could be more true.

August and September were travel months - Canada, the US, France, England - 8 weeks away was way too long. Four was the point where I lamented that I wanted to go home, but we were a week away from going to Paris, France, in order to take this picture:

What did I miss, other than my cats and my own bed and pillow? I missed my neighborhood, my market, my friends, the lifestyle, cooking, the prices, and the culture. But what I really wanted, needed, yearned for, was the smell, and to see "my mountains". I know I have to share the Sierras we are surrounded by, but not seeing them left a little empty space.

And then, mid-October, we were home. We had visited, run the Grande Classique, run a Mud Run, eaten lobster, sold a car, started reno on a cottage, driven our stuff to a storage locker in Laredo, Texas, and then we got on a plane and flew home. And it was good.

Then we left again for Puebla, a city about 4 hours north of Oaxaca, to buy a car. We drove this car back, and then welcomed guests (2 planned and 5 unplanned) for a few weeks. The five unplanned were five Canadian guys riding motorcycles from Canada to Argentina. The trip evolved and they are now headed back to Canada, but they were with us for a week. During Day of the Dead. They became the brothers I never knew I needed, and I was sad and teary to bid them farewell. Back to Day of the Dead. Wow, we had a ton of fun.

And then our next round of guests arrived, and we had more fun. We went to the beach, and snorkeled and swam, and played in the city and saw a trumpet recital and a somewhat awful play in French and a foreign film in German with Spanish subtitles and visited with a friend from Sonora and went to Yagul (my second favorite ruin) and I had café americano while Ralph brought Sue and Ron through Monte Alban. Maybe the very best thing was that I unpacked some of the stuff we had brought from Canada. I put up a bunch of pictures of family and friends. Taking down these pictures was about the only thing that made me sad when we were moving, but I reminded myself - the next time I put them up would be in my house in Oaxaca. And the second best part was they did not fall off the wall during the little earthquake we had.

I will save failed hotel negotiations for later this week...

Border Crossings

We are driving North again. For a variety of reasons, which may be the subject of further blogs, but for right now, the Summer 2016 RaT (Ralph and Tanya) multi-continent Tour began almost two weeks ago now. As I try to remember all the things I am forgetting, I thought I would blog, of course...

When crossing a border as anecdotally interesting as the US-Mexico border, there are particular things that cross one's mind in anticipation of the Big Moment. I say anecdotal because although we have heard stories, our experiences have been nothing but positive in all 6 cases where we have driven to or from Mexico. 

I anticipate inspections. On three crossings we brought a cat with us. Three times our vehicle was loaded to the headrests of our front seats. This last time was the first crossing as permanent residents. I always expect the car to be emptied. I look for things in our things that would raise eyebrows.

The cooler: We left Oaxaca with our little travel cooler for snacks and lunches for a few days. We had forgotten our ice packs at our friend Lisa's and left a large round tupperware at Wendy's, so this crossing we had an empty cooler with frozen ice packs and an empty large size tupperware container. We are OBVIOUSLY organ harvester/transporters, applying for permanent residency to have our trips go undetected. Watchlist candidates, in the very least.

Contraband: Pick one, any one. One trip I had four pair of sneakers/tennis shoes, three new, one old, two size 8, one size 8.5, one size 10. OBVIOUSLY there was contraband hidden under the insole. Rip the car apart.

Cigars: In spite of knowing the import rules (because I looked them up and printed them off and read them out loud), Ralph always has more than our allowance. Or Cuban cigars. OBVIOUSLY we have a cigar shop and we are trying to avoid paying duty on our commercial purchases. White collar crime crack down. Rip apart the van. Don't forget to look under the insoles of those shoes.

Sheer Volume: The first time we drove down we had a Suzuki Swift+. Hatchback. One Siamese cat. The car was packed full to the backs of the seats, the roof, tight to the windows and there was stuff in the footwell on the passenger seat. I thought there was no way we would be allowed through without inspection. The second time we had a Dodge Grand Caravan. Same scenario. We  OBVIOUSLY have something to hide. Needle in a haystack. Rip the car apart.

The reality: The first time they did not even come out to look at the car, or the cat. The second time I ask if they need to see the cat. (Much to Ralph's dismay, as I had to go looking for someone to ask!) The inspector looked through the window at the cat. Opened the trunk and my four new boxes of feminine hygiene products toppled out. He remarked we had a lot of stuff for six months. I remarked that I was a cook and not prepared to work with less than superior quality cooking tools. He told us to drive safe and have a nice trip. We were asked about our excess cigars and reminded that we were only allowed 20 per person, and the duty was ridiculous, 75% of the value, so we should really try to keep the numbers under the threshold, so they would not have to charge us. Of course, this "first time" there was no problem or requirement to pay. We have never been treated anything but politely, and this last drive up, although the process took 2.5 hours due to sheer volume of travelers, the officer at the immigration desk filled out all our forms for us, and made sure we understood the rules. 

Lucha Libre, at last!

It has been way too long since I have sat down and updated everyone on what the heck we have been up to. The days just fly by and by the time I realize it, we've been out all day and it's time for bed.

Lucha Libre - "Free" Wrestling is an embedded cultural event all over Mexico. Good versus evil is a worldwide theme with great appeal, and Lucha delivers!

We had seen posters up before for the Lucha Libre, and we had been once in Mexico City but had not yet been in Oaxaca. A friend of ours had been and said it had been good fun, so off we went to buy tickets.

See that little black square? Cut out of the poster? 

In such typical fashion, the place where the ticket booth used to be was bricked up, and you had to bang on the large metal door and then a young woman opened the little peep window shown in the pic above, asking what we wanted. After she established what we were after, the large door swung wide and we were ushered into a large office and bought 8 tickets for the third row. Third row is important as the wrestlers literally come over the barriers into the crowd, so unless you are looking for a wrestler in your lap, third row is recommended.

The show was incredible We were early (in typical foreigner fashion) and took the opportunity to get a few fashion shots in while the lighting was good.

Jordan, Tanya & Ralph

Once the show started it was nothing short of close to 4 hours of men in tights being tossed around the ring. Although hard to really pick a favorite, these two guys will be near to my heart forever. I think they were brothers. They arrived in shiny white tights with their granny panty lines showing, man boobs and awesome beer bellies. They were fantastic! Energetic, great use of space and audience, and the love from the crowd was the same love one has for the favorite family uncle. I guess their "shtick" is to accidentally hit each other, which then causes them to argue and then the crowd shouts, "¡BESO!" (KISS!) and the boys give each other a kiss, a little hug, and then continue beating up on the other team.

Before the disrobing...

Do you see what I see? A star, a star...

The Leap. This is where I fell in love.

What more can I say. For 200 pesos per ticket (CDN $15) it was one of the most entertaining, exciting, raw, hysterically funny evenings I have had in a long time. If you have the chance to check one out somewhere in Mexico, go! 

Take me out to the ball game... Oaxaca Style

Going to sporting events is something we do in Oaxaca that we rarely if ever did in Canada. I can probably count on one finger the number of football (American style) games I went to, and the same goes for the rest of the world style (aka soccer) as well. Baseball? Maybe once ever five years or so. Hockey? If it was a company event. Baseball? Same same. If someone else was buying the tickets, I was game for the entertainment.

In Oaxaca, we actually go "frequently". I put frequently in quotes not because it is a foreign or uncommon word, but because compared to our past patronage, our Oaxaca level of participation is downright frequent. Since we have moved here officially, we have been to one football game and two baseball games. Shocking. Here's an idea of why:

The prices: Yesterday being Father's Day meant Ralph's ticket was free. FREE. My ticket for centre section was 25 pesos. C$2. Yes, you read that correctly. Two Canadian dollars. In addition to that spectacular pricing is the awesome concept of having a ticket for a section. So you can sit anywhere your heart desires within that section. Pretty cool, right?

We pick our spots between home and first base and start to crowd watch (yes, yes, we paid attention to the game, too, but...)

First we had a beer, no pictures required. Ralph had a Bud Light and I had a Victoria, which was on sale (!!) for 15 pesos. 2 beer, 40 pesos.



Next was the difficulty in deciding what to eat.

Chips?

Popcorn? Cheesies?

Empanadas? Of course with all the fixings available in little plastic bags... limon, salsa, jalapenos...

Nachos or peanuts?

Tostadas? (Look how lovely this lady is? How could you resist a tostada?)

Wait, are those guys in the corner flogging... pizza?? For 50 pesos? Pepperoni or Hawaiian?

How about a little sweet to keep the game exciting?

Or maybe something cold? You guessed it, paletas (ice cream popsicles).

Our team lost, but with all that food going by, who cares? Next week - Lucha Libre - Mexico's Free Wrestling. Tickets are 200 pesos for "numbered" seats. I think watching grown men toss themselves about in tights is well worth 200 pesos.

What do I miss?

My guests and family, acquaintances and strangers often ask me if there is anything I miss from living in Canada, and I often draw a blank. Since living here in 2009/2010, a lot has changed, and access and availability to goods I would have missed years ago is just no longer an issue. We have pretty good cheeses now. Don't get me wrong, if I found aged Balderson cheddar cheese in the supermarket here, I would be doing an enthusiastic happy dance in the cheese and dairy section, but pretty well most things are available.

I was just in New York celebrating a friends birthday and I realized there is one thing I do miss, but lots from Oaxaca that I miss while not home.

Ripe Avocados: Yes, the availability (daily) of ripe avocados is a joy to me. I don't have to ask the kid in the produce section to please go fetch out of the garbage bin in the back the perfectly ripe black avocados he tossed out that morning.

Eggs: The yellow yolks are really, really yellow, and the eggs are so delicious. I remember being back in Canada and cracking an egg for breakfast and the dismay I felt at that pale yellow, sick looking egg yolk.

Flowers: Flowers in Canada are expensive, so they were a treat I rarely indulged in. At least once a week in Oaxaca I buy fresh flowers, dozens of roses for $2.00, Calla lilies, enough for two huge vases, for $3.00

Food that tastes like it ripened on the tree: The melons here do not taste like a shadow of themselves, their flavor is full and juicy and scrumptious. Ralph and I do not need to debate buying mangoes or peaches, because here they will actually taste like mangoes and peaches, not hard, tasteless blobs.

Markets: Fresh fruit and veg available any day of the week. I don't have to wait until my local (Toronto City Centre) farmer's market is open (from May to October) on Tuesday mornings between 8 and 12 to buy locally grown tomatoes. I have to walk through my alley, not 100 steps, to my local market. Sure, it is a bit more expensive than Abastos, or Tlacolula on Sundays, or Ocotlan on Fridays, but it is right up the street, every single day.

Crazy drivers: To be clear, the drivers here do not think they are crazy. Passing on double solid lines on a blind corner is not crazy, it is practical and keeps traffic moving. Driving in Oaxaca is not the sedate, point-and-push-the-gas experience one has back home, with frustration abounding during the 3 hour long rush hours morning and evening. Traffic is pretty well always bad here, and then you add the occasional protest and voila! excitement abounds!

Weather: I am sure I do not need to expand on this point. Sunshine. Blue skies. Rare humidity. Chilly evenings mean comfortable sleeps and sweaters if we want to have dinner on a patio.

The mountains: Not only the spectacular views they provide, but also their proximity to the city allows us, in a short drive, to go on hikes and enjoy nature.

The list goes on, but I thought this would give you a flavor of what I miss most when not at home, in Oaxaca.

This weekend in New York, I realized what I missed about living in a larger city in Canada or the U.S. Anonymity. I walked over a few blocks to go to hot yoga and I felt no different than the other 1000 people who passed me, going about their business. They were all dressed in their own style, lost in their own thoughts, on their phones, rushing or meandering, but whichever it was, I did not stand out. I was not taller. I was not specifically white. I am not usually confused for a tourist. I just went about my day to day, and for a few minutes, I really enjoyed that. Then I saw the state of the avocados in Trader Joe's, and started to miss home again.

Of course I needed a photocopy - Chapter One

The week before last was the week everything came together, or at least a lot of everything came together. Our permanent resident and temporary resident cards were ready for pick up at the Instituto National de Migration (INM). Ralph is pretty sure they were there all week and the INM failed to call and let us know they were there. When we called on Friday (because you only have a 1 hour window each day where they will pick up the phone to answer questions, and their offices are only open from 9 to 1 Monday to Friday for any processing) they said the cards were in, we could come and pick them up. The INM office is a short walk from the house, and after being there 4 times, the front desk guard knew us and greeted us as if we had just seen him Friday. Look at the fancy cards!

In the same building is the place where you get your old age card, a card which provides discounts to various things in Oaxaca, so we got that done at the same time. The guard was very sweet and looked after Ralph and moved him to the front of the line. Not sure why and we apologized to the other three who were there before us. Ralph got his little white card and off we went to get our Mexican driving licences.

We knew where we were going as we had popped in the week before to see if they would process our driver's permit without us having our actual permanent resident cards. Nope. We needed to come back when we had the cards. Let me set the stage for you. You park a mile away from the office because there is never any close-by parking. You walk in and there are about 30 chairs in the middle of a huge room. There is an "info" desk just as you walk in on the left. The person there reviews what you are coming for and your supporting documentation. Once she is satisfied with your documents, she sends you to another counter at the back where they print off a receipt for what you want and you need to go to the bank and pay. Usually there is a bank right there, but today, today it is closed.

An interesting side note. I got my Class "C" chofer licence. As the lady at the info desk explained, with this I can drive anything. A towtruck, a mototaxi, a semi-tractor trailer, a car, a bus, a van. Anything. I should do this, she says. I wonder how many foreign women immigrate to Mexico to run their very own Mototaxi. I think I would be the first one...

As the bank was closed, Ralph and I walk the mile back to the car and drive over to to ScotiaBank around the corner and up a ways (too far to walk in the midday heat). Ralph waits in the double parked car and I go to the ATM to get the cash we need for the transaction (1300 pesos for both, I think it was 950 pesos for my semi-tractor trailer licence and 350 for Ralph's 2 year regular car permit). I then wait behind 6 people, only to get up to the teller to have Jose, in his slim fit pin stripe blue suit and red tie, tell me I needed a photocopy. I ask him - are you not going to give me a receipt? Yes, he will, he explains, but he still needs a photocopy. But there is a place right on the corner, he assures me. He hands the receipts back to me. I snatch them and stomp out of the bank.

Now here is where I begin to loose my mind. I walk three blocks without finding the "photocopy place on the corner". As I am walking back, ready to walk into the executives office and demand she take a photocopy for me, a lovely lady stops me and tells me not to wait in the line again, but to go into the executive's office and get her to process my stuff. I thank her but tell her that I still can't find the photocopy place. A security guard steps up and tells me it is "right on the corner". If you have met me and spent any time with me, you can see the look on my face at that moment. The look that says "it is not on the %&$% corner, because I walked by the corner twice already". The lovely lady says she will walk me over and she does, and points to a pop-up tacos/antojito stand on the side of the road where on the side of the white metal wall is written in magic marker "copias aqui". No, no, I am not kidding.

I walk up and there is a little photocopier mixed in with the chicklets and coca cola and pickeled onions. I ask for my two copies and the lady does them right up and finished serving me even though a guy had hollered his order over my shoulder. I walk back, copies in hand, wait for the teller to be available and thrust my fresh copies and originals at him. No "Buenas Tardes" this time.

He promptly processes my payment and hands all the documents and receipts back to me. I stand there checking the transaction and he tells me I can move to the side while I check them. Not a chance, I tell him, there is no way I am waiting again if he has made an error.

All looks fine, and as I get in the car, 45 minutes later, Ralph says, "I bet you have a story to tell me!"

We did get our licence, a nice plastic card on the very same day, after three other people reviewed our documentation, took our fingerprints from both hands and took our pictures, including a close up of the eyes, and asked us for our proof of address nothing short of 5 times.

And now, off to Laredo to legalize the car... or so we thought...

Sushi...instead

I really should be blogging about the last month of bureaucratic nonsense we have been through, between getting residency, our Mexican driver's licence, Ralph's old age discount card, and the nothing-short-of-horror-film-worthy process of nationalizing our vehicle. Instead, I am going to save all that goodness for when I have a wee bit more perspective (read: head is not going to explode just thinking about it).

Let's talk about the change in availability of goods and services in Oaxaca over the last five years, shall we? Better.

When we lived here in 2009/2010 for our test six months*, we used to:
 - Horde cheese: finding a brick of cheddar at the local Soriana was like winning the lottery. We used to buy them all when we found them, gleefully flushed as we raced home to an evening of wine and cheese and crackers. Other expats would come over and marvel that we had cheese. "Where did you find CHEDDAR?" they would ask, wide eyed in amazement.
 - Beg friends to bring down boxes of Earl Grey, and then tea bags were always for a whole pot, or at least two cups!
 - Carry around dog food in the car to feed the starving dogs everywhere.
 - Learn to cook our fave thai or indian dishes at home with severe ingredient shortages. Cardomon? Nope. Thai fish sauce? Hahaha!
 - Look amusingly at the only motorcycles in town, the Domino pizza delivery guys who zipped around town.
 - Wonder if we would ever gather the courage to try one of the local "sushi" restaurants (there were three). This felt a little too adventurous. Up there on the list of host country experiences that come with time. Like buying non-refrigerated meat, for example.
 - Ponder why no one used their rooftops as decks or bars.

Fast forward five years.

 - Cheese, cheese, cheese. Wine soaked cheddar. Spanish hard goat cheese. Rondele! There may not be 100 choices, but wow, what an improvement!
 - Earl Grey, available at Soriana. Whoot! I can now have a cup whenever. And use the tea bag once.
 - Dogs on leashes. Designer dog group meetings in the park. Pugs in sweaters named Poncho. The number of starving, ribs showing pups continues to dwindle.
 - Decent Indian food? Two blocks over, three blocks down. Thai we are still hunting for.
 - We have never seen so many motorcycles! Lines of them in the Plaza on the weekends! Harley store right in town!  Several motorcycle equipment shops. (Yes, I said several!)
 - Rooftop bars/patios abound, and oh what fun it is to have a cocktail and watch the local young women teeter up in fashionable platform six inch heels. Joven! Another round!
 - Non-refrigerated meat is no longer daunting. Livestock market? Why not! But sushi? When I saw a whole shelf dedicated to Asian products at our local grocery store, I knew it was time for a Sushi Party at our place!

Atzompa. In your soul!

Do you ever have experiences in life, where at the moment you are in them, a part of your brain starts to record every detail, because you know the experience is changing your soul? It will be a story you tell to friends, a memory that makes you smile when you think about it. Fills your heart with a sort of bigness that reminds you that life is spectacular. Atzompa, and specifically my pottery tour with Rufina, a master potter from Atzompa, is one of those moments.

Atzompa is a satellite community outside of Oaxaca. There are excavated ruins  at Atzompa now, which you can visit for free as they are still working on the excavation. There are very few people there and the site offers one of the most spectacular views of the Oaxaca valleys. There are a few really cool things about the site: it flourished between 650 and 850 AD. They discovered a pottery kiln about 2.5 meters underground, which they reconstructed. The current village of Atzompa, 2 kilometers  away at the base of the hill, is resident to direct descendants of  the original residents of the ruin. 90% of the current population are potters.

So for nearly 1200 years, Atzompa has been producing pottery.

I had signed my visiting friend Kim and I up for a pottery tour through Innovando La Tradition, a not for profit organization working with six different potters in the Oaxaca area to either modernize their process, their product or innovate with them. I had never worked with clay before. When you sign up, you have no idea where you will be going to, but they do tell you that you will have an opportunity to work with clay in some way. Fabulous. Off we go!

On the bus we are advised by our guide, Flor, that we are going to Atzompa. (Super cool!) and we would be working today with Rufina. We arrive at her home and she greets us. I am almost instantly scooped up in her smile and her manner. She is beautiful, and traditional (her smock, her long black hair in braids with blue ribbons) and with a little gleam in her eye that lets you know there is something waiting to be discovered.

Her inner patio is piled high with what looks like dirt. She explains that it is two different kinds of clay, which she mixes together to create her working material. She explains to us that she soaks one type for about a month in water, and it creates a paste which she then mixes by hand in a wheelbarrow with the other type of clay. As she explains this, she drops the wet clay into the barrel and sprinkles the dry clay over top and say to us, "Here, get your hands in there. Work the clay. Get Atzompa in your soul." And that we did. Not only did we knead the clay like dough, we then watched her spin a bowl with nothing more that an inverted clay pot, an old tile, a plate, and her skill. I was mesmerized.

She then takes out a smaller wheel for each of us and again tells us to get our hands in there. From the clay we kneaded, and her 15 minute demonstration, we are now going to make our own bowl (or something). Whoa! There is one potter in our group, but the rest of us have never thrown, worked, spun, touched or molded clay before. After a bit of hesitation, we are in Rufina's trance. She comes over to help and guide, but otherwise we are on our own.

I could have worked all day, but we agree to five more minutes, then wash off and have lunch with Rufina. Her kindness extends through her offering us a wonderful meal, and after we eat, she shows us her kilns. She has her traditional one, dug into the earth and scarred black, broken pottery scattered around and her tools for getting the pots in and out of the fire.

She then shows us "the new babies". These are two modern, new kilns that she has worked for ten years with Innovando and another local artisan who blows glass, to refine. The kilns work on recycled restaurant oil, which she collects from restaurants in and around Oaxaca. She explains that there was a lot of trial and error, to get the kilns hot enough, consistent enough, to make her ceramic. She shares that there were originally 40 potter families involved, she is now the only one. She explains the others were resistant to change and dropped out of the project. Her family encouraged her to continue. I ask her is the change, the work, the challenges excite her. With a gleam in her eye and a sly smile, she answers, "Si!"

Rufina is now involved in a project to go to Belgium as the  ambassador for Mexican arts. The group were raising money for her journey. I donated, and I thought it was a good time to share my amazing experience with all of you.

Here is Rufina is a great video about the project.

I would like to take a few workshops with her in the future. My finished product, front left (after it air dried for 30 days and then was fired and I went to pick it up, a total of about 2 months!) was nothing to write home about, but it makes me happy, and I serve guacamole and chips in it with great pride. Kim's is on the right, and Jackie (the only experienced potter) is the one behind. I get to babysit their pieces until the come back home to Oaxaca again.

Permanent Residency Statistics

We are just back from Canada. We left Oaxaca on April 10th and drove for 2 days to Austin, spent a few days there visiting and then flew to Montreal. Here are some interesting stats from the trip:

Beds: We slept in 15 beds different beds. From hotels to guest rooms to the loft in our cabin, we rarely rested our heads in the same place for more than a few nights at a time before we were on the move again.
Cities: Fourteen in all, over three countires, not double counting those we were in twice: San Luis Potosi, Laredo, Austin, Chertsey, Montreal, Bath, North Bay, Toronto, Mississauga, Brantford, New Braunfels, Petawawa, Port Hope, Queretaro
Kilometers traveled: Approximately 9000 kilometers in the car, and we flew from Austin to Montreal. No wonder we are feeling a bit road weary...

Pets rubbed: Diego and Hilda, our cats, stayed in Oaxaca while we were away. Thankfully I got some surrogate fur love from a total of 17 pets, 8 dogs and 9 cats
Friends visited: 44. Yes. 44. I was tempted to list them all here because we had to write them all down to count them. Thank you so much to all 44 for carving out some time to see us. It is never enough time together, but we appreciate every moment. For those we did not get a chance to see, we'll be back around August, stay tuned!
Family visited: 17. We managed some great visits and quality time with family which really meant a lot to both of us. Ralph's Dad is 97 and we try to sneak in as many visits with him as we can! (Even though he did not make date squares this time...) For those family members who were in Spain while we were visiting, see you in August, amigos!

Hours for successful permanent residency application:  4. Yes, it only took us 4 hours to have our applications processed even though we were planning for the standard ten days.





Catula is a good place to stop away from Laredo about one hr.

Run training in Oaxaca...

Some of you may know that at 39 (last year), I decided I had had about enough of my body being as large as it was, and took up running, did the Rock'n'Roll Chicago half marathon in July, lost 40 lbs in the process, and have since then tried to keep running. I have kept the weight off, and have kept running, but not as much as I would have liked.
We relocated to Oaxaca, and this meant so many run interuption type things! Well, the actual move took about 30 days, but I did manage to run a bit while we were traveling through Canada and the US. Then upon arrival, we found our home and moved in, which meant lots of reno and about ten days of no hot water. Sorry, no hot shower meant no running for me. Perhaps I need a tiara to run in?

A revolving door of guests accompanied by a whole host of new bacteria meant if we didn't have guests, I had a cold. And running with a cold at altitudes over 5000 feet was unfun.

I kept feeling guilty, my Canadian virtual run partner was training in the cold and snow! My UK virtual run partner in rain and fog. I had blue skies and 25 degrees with no himidity. I needed to get my butt in gear.

Let's be clear here, before I go on. I am not a small woman. I am not tall, but I have a nice round bum and boobs and a bit of belly flab and jiggly upper arms. And as far as the Oaxacan male palate of positive female body attributes, that is quite a collection. So training in Oaxaca has meant I endured:

The long look: Usually from municipal police covering the entrance to a government building. They see you coming down the street and cannot look away. Barely able to contain themselves as I oooze by, they then turn to watch it all go on, as far as the eye can see, or until I turn the corner. I never look back and always chime in a cheery "Buenas Dias!" I figure if they are going to oogle, at least they can say Good Morning.

The pick up truck crew: I try to run early, and generally the back of a pick up truck is a community taxi in Oaxaca. The boys on the flatbed see me as they are driving up the street, as they pass me, as they drive away and best of all things, running towards them if they catch the light. Running towards them. Why, I am sure I am the stuff dreams are made of for months to come. I usually wave and smile. I usually get sheepish waves back.

The general onlooker (also commonly referred to as the drive by): Taxi drivers, bus drivers, pick-up truck drivers. Where usually traffic would whip by, and where pedestrians never have the right of way, drivers will stop and wave me on by. I am pretty sure it is to see the junk in my trunk but heck, it helps me keep a decent pace. Enjoy!

Buen dia, Guerita: this means pale person, and it is never ever meant as an insult, but rather a form of respect. Oaxacans are infinately polite, so as you pass them, even while running, there is an exchange. Good morning. Good morning white person. Can we not just stop at good morning?  I know I am white.

Finally, the tooth sucker: Oaxacan men have this truly awful way of showing appreciation, and it can only be defined as tooth sucking. It sounds gross and is the only thing I find offensive. It is like I am a snack, and they are smacking their lips on joyful anticipation. I only said something once, to a young man at an intersection where I had stopped. I asked him what he would think if someone had done that to his sister. He stared at me wide-eyed and I ran off. I was not sure if the wide eyes were due to my kmowing Spanish, my saying something, or the thought of me knowing he had a sister.

A Postcard from Vienna!

We were wondering about the mail. We knew friends and family had sent us Christmas cards, but they had never arrived. Now beyond mid February, we were starting to get curious if these would ever arrive. When we lived here 5 years ago, mail usually took three weeks, maybe four, but it did eventually arrive. I had no reason to doubt my experience this time around.

Wrong.

We have received our utility bills on time, water, electricity, phone, cable and internet all arrive in our mailbox in tidy white envelopes or on pretty statements not in envelopes (privacy laws be damned!) at our house. We have received one international box, for which we received a notice to go and collect it at the "centro" post office.

This enigma had been going on just about long enough. We had reason to be in the main "centro" post office earlier this week, so I thought I might ask if there was a special handshake or secret password I needed in order to receive my international, non-parcel mail. I asked at the counter where one buys stamps, and she instructed me to walk to the end of the hall, and there was a window there and I was to ring the bell three times and they could address my query. Seriously, there was even a sign saying "Ring the bell three times." Three short rings? Long rings?

I opted for short rings and waited. A lady appears and I explain my mystery to her. I ask if there is anything special I need to do in order to receive my international post that is not a parcel.

She says no, usually nothing special is required, and she will go and look in the back. Time passes. Children are born. Technological innovations astound. World peace becomes a real possibility...

Meanwhile, Ralph and I figure there are three possible results.

1. No mail.
2. Some mail.
3. A huge stack of mail.

A different lady appears from the back, with the little paper the other lady had written my address on. No, she says, no mail. But it is vacation time, so perhaps a little while longer.

(For real. Vacation time. I suppose if our postal delivery person was off on December 12th for Guadalupe, December 18 to 21 for Soledad, December 25th for Christmas, December 31 and January 1 for New Years, January 5th for the Three Kings, that still leaves a few weeks of delivery time until the February Constitution holiday and Candlemas events!)

But. Guess what happens the next day? A postman shows up with...

Ha! Evidently our postman was away on leave/vacation.

We still have no other Christmas cards from family and friends outside of Mexico, but I remain optimistic (foolishly).

Our Spanish teacher tells us that for our bills (Cable & Internet, TelMex, water and hydro bills), there are delivered by private delivery people that work for the respective companies. Can you imagine if HyrdoOne in Ontario, or AT&T in the US had to manage their own mail delivery service? I cannot, though I see one benefit - no junkmail!

Until more mail arrives or we find a mysterious stack addressed to us at some other address, my postcard is on the fridge, a reminder that things are different here.

Beer and Bocce in the Park

Friends of ours asked if we wanted to join in on a Bocce game in the park. We had never played Bocce but evidently one could play with no experience and no special outfits, so we agreed that Friday afternoon around 1:00 we would meet at our place and drive out to the Las Canteras park, play a game, picnic lunch, and enjoy the fine February weather.

The Las Canteras park is new to Ralph and I, so we drove over in advance to check it out, have a cigar (Ralph) and maybe find a new running location (Me) at the same time. Armed with a print out of the Google map, we drove over and parked and tada! discovered a fabulous park. It is the old mine for the Oaxacan green stone which is used in many of the public buildings around town. After all the stone was mined, it ended up being a bit of a landfill, until several years ago the city thought to turn it into a park. It is a lovely park with lots of places to sit and gaze at the cliffs and ponds. Still a work in progress, but lots of fun potential already.

Friday the weather was perfect, and we found a nice spot with some shade to play bocce. After the first trial toss of the balls, we divided into teams and quickly discovered that tossing took only one hand and we could hold the beer we brought with the other. Crack open the Corona, people!

A few ends in, and the local police wander over. Not to throw my fellow players and friends completely under the bus, but they scattered like marbles when the "Policia" approached. I walk over, beer in hand, smile on my face. "Buenas tardes."

The policeman explains to me that we are not permitted to enjoy beer in the park. As the rules are the same in Canada, I get it. I was wondering what the rules were here, so good to know that we need to pick up plastic cups for the next event.

In Canada, though, this discussion would be followed by the police confiscating the open beer, and perhaps asking to inspect our cooler bags for more of the substance, maybe asking us to put the unopened beer into our car.

In my best Spanish, I asked if we could finish the beer we had on the go, and Of Course! Yes! Just no new beer.

Right. No problem at all, we can totally work with that. We laughed that only in Mexico would the police be so reasonable.


My team won the Bocce game, in case you were wondering... Here is a pic of Ralph measuring out the distances, just to make sure...

Oaxaca Healthcare

I went to an information session at the Oaxaca Lending Library which was given by a local doctor. This doctor is a generalist, practicing here in Oaxaca who has U.S. experience. His English is excellent and probably why he has so many Expats as patience.

It is common that local doctors make house calls. It is also common that local doctors do not carry liability insurance. It seems that the culture is not to litigate. I guess accidents do happen, oh well!

Having an English speaking doctor available is very comforting. In an emergency you call your doctor first who can advise you on whether you go to the hospital or wait until he can drop by to assess treatment. He can then refer you to the best practitioner for what ails you.

If you are over 64 years old it is just about impossible to get major health insurance. But then again, the cost of healthcare is very inexpensive. For example a doctor's visit may only be C$40 plus any treatment costs. Around the clock nursing care in home may only cost C$50 per day. Self funded healthcare is probably best anyway since the costs are so low.

There is excellent doctor care available here in Oaxaca except for heart by-pass operations, stints and angiograms. For these you have to go to Puebla or Mexico City. There are even 15 plastic-surgeons here and quite a booming business for Expats.

Dental care here is also very inexpensive and many Expats travel here for those expensive procedures like implants and crowns.  

Non-critical care is available to everyone, even tourists though the line-ups and waiting times may be long.

We are very comfortable with the healthcare available for us in Oaxaca and now that we have an English speaking doctor easily accessible we can relax and enjoy our new country and home.

Locksmith from around the corner

We had need of a locksmith for 2 issues. First, it was the back door with no key. This gave access to the service patio and the stairs to the rooftop patio. If a wind blew the door closed we would be locked out. Second issue was in the master bedroom. There are built-in wall closets and drawers and in the middle of these there is a locked cabinet with a mirror. What would be inside and how do I get to use that space?

Well, there is a locksmith just up the street and he happened to be open when we walked by. Great opportunity to have our locks looked after. The young man, maybe 25 years old, was happy to grab his tools and follow us home. First job was to bust the lock on the upstairs cabinet.

Back in Toronto a locksmith would drill out the centre cylinder to open the cabinet and then replace the lock with a new one. But our young locksmith took out his lock picking tools just like on TV and proceeded to pick the lock. When he opened the cabinet he then removed the lock and replaced it with a new one. Very simple and very clean work and all done for C$20. What a deal!.

I was expecting to find some very valuable stuff inside. Why else would it have been locked. The cache was 3 empty binders and a Samsumg video camera. Useless camera because there was no battery and no cables. And who uses video cameras anymore when the iPhones and iPads do such a lovely job. Maybe I'll research to find out how expensive a replacement battery would be. 

By the way, the cat in the cabinet was a recent addition after the cabinet was opened.

Okay, the next project-replace the back door lock.

Inside view of lock

Outside view of lock

Here is what I am expecting the young locksmith to do-Remove the lock and replace it with a new one which has keys.

Well surprise NO! First he takes off the cover and opens up the lock. He takes it all apart and pulls out the locking cylinder. Just a small cylinder. Next he opens up his tool kit and takes out a blank key and using a hand file he commences to shape the blank key to fit the cylinder. One by one he notches the key to fit. Within 20 minutes he had the lock apart, a new key shaped and the lock back together again. And yes, the key works beautifully.

And what do you expect the cost of this one to be, including a second key that he cut on the regular key duplicating machine at his shop? An astounding C$15.

So, 2 lock repairs for C$35 and maybe an hour's work. Fantastic! And good thing because I locked myself out in the service patio today and got to use the spare key we keep out there for just this purpose.

The Pilgrimage: A Play in 1 act, 2 characters and a Pick Up Truck

Scene opens on the patio of a Church just outside Puebla, Mexico.

Maria: Julia, have you done your Virgin or Guadalupe pilgrimage yet?

Julia: No, Maria, it seems really far from Puebla to Mexico City, like 130 kilometers or more, and most of it uphill!

Maria: That is no excuse, Julia, as a good Catholic, you should do this! Why don't you join us, we are riding our bikes this year! And consider yourself lucky, if you were from Oaxaca, you would have to do your pilgrimage to Juquila, far up in the Sierras across several mountain passes. Come to Mexico City, Julia, it will be fun!

Julia: OK, Maria, you convinced me. What is the route, how will we get to Mexico City?

Maria: Easy, Julia, the straightest road is the federal highway, where we will ride our bikes in the right lane, while all the high speed traffic goes whipping by at 120 kilometers (75 miles) per hour in the other two lanes.

Julia: Oh yes, that sounds wonderful, and a very good idea. Can my little brother join us?

Maria: Of course, anyone can walk or ride with us on the highway.

Julia: Great! I might need some help carrying the family Virgin statue all the way to Puebla considering this is my first time, so if my little brother came, it would help.

Maria: Yes, we recommend you tie the statue or the framed image high on your back or shoulders to be safe.

Julia: Great idea. Who will be carrying the virgin from the church?

Maria: Oh no, Julia, we don't carry her. We build her an altar, special, in the back of my uncle's pick up truck, the old diesel one with the really strong emissions because the muffler is almost gone. She rides all the way to Mexico City in front of us on our bicycles, also in the right lane. This way, she is our visual inspiration, our spiritual guide and our protector during our pilgrimage.

Julia: Wow. I am so excited! I am going to rush home now and tell my mother and my brother. Thank you for inviting me, Maria!

Maria: Wait, Julia, don't forget your team shirt!

End Scene.