I love Easter! The chocolate bunnies. Jellybeans. Black ones. Peeps! The rustle of the cellophane Easter grass. I love it all!
The religious aspect, church, Jesus rising from the dead. I could never get my head around it, even as a kid in Catholic school.
But the Easter Bunny leaving a basket full of chocolate made in his own image? Bring it on! The Easter Bunny also hid the eggs my siblings and I so carefully colored on the Saturday before Easter. It all made sense to me the same as the Tooth Fairy and Santa. A myth we pretended to believe in -for our parents sake- long after we knew these amazing creatures were imaginary.
Well here in La Paz and all over Mexico, Easter is a big deal in a different way. The entire population is on the move. Large extended families camp out on the beaches and some bring stoves, generators and TVs. Folks from the mainland come to the beaches to enjoy their one-to-two week holiday.
The Easter Bunny is not the star of the show here. But chocolate of a dubious quality does show up in the stores.
Since I have completed a 10-day detox diet and have remained gluten, sugar, dairy and alcohol free since then, chocolate is not entering the house.
But I like to mark the holiday. and we are having 10 other folks over for hotdogs tomorrow. Six of those others are kids between the ages of 4-14.
I decided to color eggs. But not with food coloring and vinegar. Oh the colors are lovely, but the mess is not worth it.
MissMeliss mentioned a YouTube video by my protege, Martha Stewart demonstrating how to color eggs using silk ties. That sounded like fun. I watched the video, which is below. And then I asked My Beloved if I could have one or all of his ties to cut up to color eggs. He gave me ONE.
I also found two pieces of silk prints that I thought I would try.
Here are the fabrics. Note the tie and it’s dark color and animal heads.
I tried to center one tiger and one zebra on two different eggs. The Zebra seemed to work:
Here are all of the eggs from the tie. It is interesting the way the colors turned out.
The vibrant rust and cobalt blue Thai silk was a real surprise. The rust did not come through at all. In fact in the picture after the blue eggs you can see that it ran and turned the water pinkish. It is fascinating what colors came through. And how they changed.
And here they are boiling away
These last three eggs came from the beige floral silk. I was a little disappointed in them, but then I added some oil, and now they have a pearly glow.
They are lovely, yes?
I have asked friends to shop in their husband’s closets for ties. And to visit Goodwill. I have two friends that want to do this next year. We need silk ties sent to us so we can be prepared! The ties work best because their colors are intense and their prints are small. With some careful placement and a bit of luck, I think that I can transfer specific motifs to my next batch of eggs.
so tomorrow we will roast hotdogs poolside and eat these eggs!
Life in Mexico is sweet, slow, and warm. When I say warm, I refer not only to the sunny climate, but to the people. Mexicans are among the happiest people in the world. They are gracious, and welcoming. A goodly portion of the expats here have developed a laid-back and open attitude as well. And the food! Oh what a luscious delight is a taco or tostada eaten at a roadside stand. The ingredients are made fresh that day. And each stand has a different taste, depending on the family recipe. Oh yum!
Then there is the other thing… or things. Things that you cannot find.
When one wants to make a new recipe. Try a new sewing technique. Or do a little DIY. Frustration sets in. There are things that you just cannot find. Or have to go on the hung asking others if they have seen such. Or if they know the Spanish word for this.
I have a lovely, snail shaped outdoor bathroom. I hardly used my longed- for snail bathroom last summer and I have no excuse. This year I have decided to use it regularly, and to ask my pool guests to use it rather than track water through the house. I have been swimming in the early morning and then showering out there. The early morning sun is intense, the early Spring air is crisp,The sky is BLUE. It is lovely. Doing this is what I dreamed my Mexican life would be like when we finally retired. We have been here 17 years. I had a makeshift outdoor bath in my first house, a full enclosed very nice pool bath at my beach house. But now I have the dreamed-of outdoor snail bath. I never really decorated it, and made it mine. Who knows why.
I spent Saturday and Sunday cleaning it up, adding sweet yellow pots of jade plants, re-hanging the shell mirror, replacing the inefficient rain shower head with a hand held shower, and then adding Talavera soap and lotion containers. Pouring liquid soap into one was easy-peasy. Done in a flash and not a drop spilled.
Getting the hand lotion into the other dispenser
was a task that drove me crazy and was shelved ( well actually stuck in a corner of my indoor bathroom cupboard funnel and all for over a year).
I like pretty things. I like my guests to have pretty things at the ready when they need them. Like hand lotion in a lovely dispenser.
Last year I tried pumping from a bottle of lotion into the new dispenser. What a mess!
The lotion clogged up, mounded up, and rolled down the sides.
I tried a funnel. That just got more lotion piled up in the funnel and going nowhere. I mean molasses goes faster uphill in January.
I was thinking of nuking the hand lotion bottle, but since my last microwave experiment, My Beloved comes running when he hears the buttons chiming.
So I visited Google. There was a 10 -minute video on filling a lotion dispenser. Skipped that one. Then there was a video showing a cello cone that is like a disposable pastry bag. None on hand in my house, and I am positive there are none available in La Paz.
Next tutorial shows a special icing baster. Hmm, Solution Cake the cake decorating shop might have one if I would like to drive 30 minutes to town and spend another ten parking. Well actuall until after my eye surgery, if MY Beloved wants to drive 30 minutes to town and spend 10 minutes lookingfor parking. Not happening.
Who said “The third one is the charm?” They are right.
The third video said just glop some lotion base in a jar and nuke it. But don’t let it get over 120 F.
Okay, I now had a plan.
Find cooking thermometer in the gadget drawer
Fill larger Pyrex measuring cup with water
Nuke the water for two minutes. Also yell “ It’s OK honey, I am only heating water!”
Check temperature. Note: do not test the water with your finger, that’s what the thermometer is for.
Stand the lotion containers in the hot water. For a little while.
Pump the now-liquid lotion into the funnel (less mess) Voila! The dispensers are filled.
I used two almost empty lotion bottles and part of a new one.
Have a lot of old napkins or paper towels on hand, this gets messy.
Now, how to label the dispensers? I looked through my collection for two small shells, none did the trick. So, I rummage in my button box and found two nice buttons and some silver cord. I tied the cord around the necks of the dispensers, thread the silver through the buttons, and knotted it, and added some small labels with the words soap and lotion in Spanish and English.
Coffee. Just hearing the word brings the aroma, the taste, the sensual pleasure of drinking it right smack up to front of my mind.
Seeing the written word, doesn’t seem to have any effect on me.
But let me get a whiff of brewing coffee, or freshly ground coffee, and I am craving a hit of that dark, rich heaven in a cup.
The elixir of life.
Is perfect for solitary time
We have often joked that the Klindienst coat of arms should be a hand passing a coffee cup. A golden cup brimming with dark rich coffee curls of “flavor fingers” reaching ever upward.
Some of us are insufferable coffee snobs (me) and have been known to walk out of restaurants that cannot serve a proper cup of coffee. That is a lot of restaurants, the world over.
My solution here in the City of Peace on the Bay, I am well known, and surprisingly well-liked enough to be allowed to bring my own coffee carafe into breakfast restaurants. They even supply a cup! I won’t do this at fine dining restaurants, but I have threatened to.
Some of us enjoy a good cup of coffee, know a great cup of coffee, but will be satisfied with a good cup of coffee.
And others, the slightly less discerning will drink any swill that is dark brown and hot. I think that they were dropped at birth or married in.
And so this little rant of mine started at 5:26 a.m. when stumbling in the dark so as not to awaken my Beloved, I stubbed my toe on the bed frame, stepped on the dog who yelped and ran away not at all hurt, and then used my favorite expletive, it starts with an F. He did wake and ask the time. Time…well that is for another time! This is about coffee.
I was charging up my Dulce Gusto one cup wonder, and still reeling from the life enhancing, mind bending smell of my coffee cupboard. Can you smell it? Take a deep breath. Oh heavenly mother and all the saints, this is, this is, this is coffee! I swoon.
Then like a thunderbolt, or the stern admonishing that Miss Meliss gave me over Christmas, I stop, cock my head and hear the words. “Write about this. Do it now!”
I grabbed my phone ( wouldn’t my dear parents looking down from heaven since the 90s be thinking I was going senile, grabbing my phone to take a photo?) and snapped the photos you see here.Because a blog post needs photos.
In the last 16 years of our exile here in Baja California Sur. Since November 8th, we call ourselves exiles, not expats, I have seen the demise of at least two Krups and one Braun coffeemakers. It is our hard water. No amount of vinegar or specialized cleaner or even a shaman’s spells could save them. On the advice of coffee drinking friends, I bought a local brand coffee maker. I am on my second one. The first one just stopped. Just stopped making coffee. This one is dying a slow death.
This cute Dulce Gusto pod coffee maker came home with us after Hurricane Odile. We were on day 8 of 13 days without electricity. We went to town every day to have a good meal, charge up our devices and enjoy air conditioning. We were in a department store slowly pretending we were shopping like the rest of the population from our side of the bay.
He saw it first, my ever so Beloved. There she was sparkling, a lovely blue with Frida’s face and torso on the front.
“This is cute” he said.
“I love it” said I.
So we bought the pot and some pods. Then we went home and looked at her for 6 more days until the power was restored. Frida poured out cup after cup for two years, but just before Christmas refused to do anything but sit there. I tried to make it work between us. But she refused.
Too cute to throw away, Frida resides in the coffee garage.
And now I have Chrome Boy.
Admittedly, this is not the best coffee, but I have figured out when to stop the water flow and can get a pretty decent cup. Especially at 5:26 in the morning.
And thank you Venus, Mars and the former planet Pluto for Jaime and his gifted roasting. And to the guy in the village, Coffee Eberhart that will take my coffee orders and then deliver kilos of coffee to my house.
Miss Meliss has been preaching about her latest coffeemaker, the Coffee Ninja (that is its real name) and how she wants me to have one. She wants to send one to me for my birthday. I demurred.
“No, Darling, a gift certificate at Gorgeous Fabrics will be fine.” I mean one does not want to appear grasping and greedy.
I am not religious. Never have been. Despite my Italian-Catholic upbringing, Jesus and all the saints in heaven never took.
But what did stick was Christmas as a time of giving and forgiving. A time of making room for one more place at the table because someone we knew found themselves alone on Christmas.
There were always extra gifts wrapped and ready to give “just in case”.
Singing songs like Silent Night and Joy to the World were no different to me than singing along with Mr. Beau Jangles, Me and Bobby McGee or any Beach Boys or Beatles songs. Just songs that I loved to hear and sing, in my terribly, flat, toneless but enthusiastic voice.
Christmas at our house was noisy. There were four of us. Four kids with arguments. With friends. Four kids trying to wrap presents for each other in secret, but making heavy hints about what might be in the boxes.
My mother was baking, baking, baking. She was making gingerbread and her famous date nut loaves. She would often be swatting my farther with the towel torn from her waist. NOW I know why she was swatting him. Back then I had no clue. I was nine.
My father would bring in the tree from the garage. I was asthmatic and no number of specially treated trees kept me from wheezing. Family photos of us on Christmas always showed me in a blanket looking like I was taking my last breath.
So my father de-boxed the artificial tree one in a line of many that got better as artificial tree technology improved. And told us it had to “warm up” so that the cold, brittle, metal branches did not break when we unfolded them. He taught us how to string lights, and was very particular about spreading the colors around.
What is Christmas without trains? We had them, beautiful Marklin trains that Dad brought back from Germany after the war. We spent days sanding the tracks that corroded over the humid New Jersey summer. We fixed wheels, and shined up the other props. We loved it and we did not fight or argue during the train setup. Years later after his funeral, the three siblings that were left, chose our favorite trains and took them home to be part of our separate Christmas celebrations.
In the 80s, my daughter and I left an abusive situation and found ourselves alone at Christmas in Modesto, California. On Christmas morning, my sweet daughter presented me with a box covered in glitter. Inside were tapes she had made from albums she had borrowed from the library and recorded for me.
She had taken to heart her grandmother’s adage: “A gift of the hand is a gift of the heart.”
There are so many cherished moments from Christmas past, but that one I cherish the most.
The La Paz Farmer’s Market; Open All Year, Come Taste, Talk and Buy.
Come Saturday morning, after our years-old tradition of breakfast with friends, my Beloved and I head over to the La Paz Farmer’s Market. It is part of our Saturday thing. Not only are we loading up on wonderful fruits and vegetables, salsa, pesto, artisan Tequila, homemade breads, we buy plants, organic pest killers and fertilizer, jewelry, greeting cards, and healthy Chinese treats.
The Saturday Farmer’s Market is a social occasion and we spend time chatting with the vendors and the other buyers, meeting new people, and just being out and convivial. But the market is also open for your convenience on Tuesdays.
Have you tried any of Linda Shawyer’s Greek yogurt made from the milk of local, grass-fed cows, zesty Italian sausage, or any of her magnificent quiche? Linda always has a smile and kind word and scrumptious goodies. Her cinnamon rolls are dangerously addictive. Linda says that, “…I like to make food that makes people happy…”
Martin Loubet always has a long line at his produce table. My Beloved is dispatched to stand in for me and choose the goodies. Martin has land and a farm in Pescadero. After Odile, he showed up with what few things did not get blown away. And we bought what little fare he had, in praise of his efforts to pick up and keep going. Always smiling, and helpful, Martin and his wife and daughter walk the line at their table and ensure that everyone is served. You never know when different fruit or veggies that you have never seen before will pop up on Martin’s table.
When we first moved to La Paz, I whined a lot about not having a farmer’s market. Our not-so-little market has grown to encompass many different items, home grown and homemade. And on any given visit, there will be the mainstays of the market and newcomers. The presentation of goods is a rich, colorful motif in creativity and the bounty of Mother Nature.
And then there is Kayle, a laid-back guy from Pescadero that also has a groaning board of interesting and hard to find items, like luscious blueberries, dates, organic popcorn, shelled, fat, sweet green peas and the most wonderful selection of greens for salads and juicing. Kayle treks up to La Paz on both days of our market.
Cathy Smith, the Gardening Guru, also hails from Pescadero. Cathy’s products are certified by the Baja California Sur state government as 100% ORGANIC. This is not an easy designation to come by. If one could bank Cathy’s enthusiasm and know-how, they would be rich as Midus. Cathy has an array of organic pest killers, mosquito repellants, fertilizers, and is happy to advise and consult.
Not all the vendors mentioned here are out on the street. There are one or two shop owners that are important threads of this wonderful tapestry of food, plants, and crafts. The market has provided the traffic and interest in things other than the commercial and homogeneous. These shops are a wonderful addition to your Farmer’s Market visit and to the town on any day.
Got Baja? Enrique Sanchez #2 and his wife, Cecelia, certainly do. They are the owners, and creators of the gift shop, “Got Baja” and the espresso café, “Doce Cuarenta” (1240 Madero), named for their street address. This wonderful little shop, café, and garden is the center of the Farmer’s Market. My Beloved is hooked on their Ruben sandwich and I will never get tired of their signature salad, Doce Cuarenta. All things La Paz and Baja, from stunning mounted large photographs of Baja scenes, feed sack throw pillows that say “Cuddle with this pillow if you miss La Paz too much”, to t-shirts and mugs. Whether you want a rich pastry, a light lunch, hot or cold-brewed espresso, this is an important part of your Farmer’s Market experience.
Lolita Pie Boutique on March 14th, my number one daughter sent me an email saying it was Pie Day and had dispatched her Beloved to find a luscious pie. March 14 is 3.14…get it? Well, you do not need to wait for next March to experience decadent, delicious, warm-from-the-oven pies. Just step around the corner onto Constitucion near the Aramburo parking lot and visit Lolita’s Pie Boutique.
Karuna Tea House is also just around the corner on Constitucion, a charming and welcoming place to rest and enjoy. Husband and wife team Ines Garcia and Hector Jaime Felix offer private tea tastings and a few tables for you to enjoy a cup of one of their specialty teas. Ines also has a table at the market and offers refreshing iced tea and some cakes. Stop in and sip a cuppa and meet these lovely young people.
Talking on the phone to precious daughter, the other day she said she was running low on her Baja salt collection and hoped there was still someone selling flavored salts at the market. I told her not to worry.
La Parcela Productos Gourmet. Visit their booth or their shop. It is a treat for the senses. Shop owner Christian, displays his aderezos and especias (herbs and spices) beautifully and is knowledgeable about his products. He carries everything from cacao, vanilla, various salts, and Himalayan salt tabs. Visit him at the market or at his store on Allende between Revolucion and Serdan.
El Jardincito. Owned by Enrique Sanchez #1 (the other guy’s father) is the place to buy healthy, organically grown plants, herbs, and a few gifts like blown glass hummingbird feeders and some handmade fiber pots. Want a ready-made herb garden? Enrique has them. Looking for a particular plant? Enrique will try to find it for you. This spring, he had the most gorgeous, vibrant, and long-lived tulips. Enrique has two passions in life: running and raising organic plants. In fact, he came in first in his age group in the half marathon and first again in the triathalon in Cabo San Lucas.
Queen Bees owner Juana Agudo sells honey, honey drops, and lollipops (better than a cough drop). Always ready with a smile, Juana is happy to offer a sample. Her products are diverse and well-priced. Not just a pretty face, Juana is a bee expert. She came to my house, suited up in a beekeeper’s rig (scared my chihuahua) and very calmly and professionally removed a hive of wild bees.
Dora Burgoin of Organicos Cabo Natura comes from Cabo San Lucas twice a week with her wonderful, colorful, purple and yellow cauliflower, flor de calabasa (squash flowers), heirloom tomatoes, and greens. You cannot miss her in her Mexican gauze dresses, colorful scarves, and straw hat. Her produce is beautiful and tasty.
Bella. When I was a kid, my Italian mother always called me Bella. Beautiful. Well, French food at the level that Bella makes it, lives up to her name! I have heard that her gluten-free Tarte Provencal requires that you sign a release form in case you become addicted. Oh, and her lemon squares have an equal reputation. Provecho!
It is a good thing there is not the most convenient parking at the market. Hoofing it a little bit will help to burn off the calories from all of the food you have tasted. I mean, I do not want to be rude, if someone offers, I taste!
La Lei. Lei Tam, chef and Asian food genius, has caught me hook, line, and Pad Thai! I have tried most of her offerings. Her Chow Mein made with wide brown noodles and an array of vegetables is as pleasing to the eye as it is to the palate. Oh! And those Vietnamese Summer Rolls… Well, they are a mainstay at our house. Lei makes all of her own noodles and sauces. She can even make the Chow Mein and Pad Thai vegetarian and gluten free. Lei, with advance notice, will make dishes for you to pick up at the market. Or she will be the private chef at your next party. But, please invite the Press!
Dear readers: Many of you may remember the trendy Café Milano on Izquierda Street. Lei was the chef. Her husband Michel, the bread maker, helped her. We watched their beautiful daughter Asia (“Ahs si ya”) grow up. Lei says “Italian design, Chinese built!”
Grateful Bread, Michel Milano, artesanal bread maker, arrives on a Vespa. Sets up his breads, round and long loaves. Crusty on the outside, white and delicious on the inside. He tempts me every week. I have to resist, once on the lips, and boom it’s on the hips! But others give in and I see his wares flying off the table.
They started calling it “Eat Street” because so many restaurants have made their homes on Madero Street. But on Tuesdays and Saturdays, it is Meet, Greet, and Eat Street. La Paz, this Farmer’s Market is yours. These are your friends and neighbors. They are cooking, baking, stirring, and harvesting to bring wonderful foods to you. Please continue to support them. The market is open all year.
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Are bees swarming your infinity edge pool? Are they making your spa their day spa?
Queen Latifah may have been able to handle bees without getting stung when she starred in the movie based on the book with the same name as this article.
But when one is lolling about sin la ropa (naked) in the pool or spa having swarms of wild bees as uninvited guests, well it makes for a less-than-relaxing moment. One of the pleasures of living here is having a pool or spa that can be enjoyed most of the year.
When we lived two blocks from the beach, we had a few bees, but a lot of wasps. Wasps are easy, just splash around and they go away. When we moved to the beach, several years in a row there were wild bees forming hives on our property. They were not much of a bother at the pool. But! wild bees have no fear of humans, and they will let you know when they are annoyed at you using the pool during their peak visiting times.
In our new house on the hill with a lot of desert vegetation and a wooded arroyo, bees are our grumpy neighbors. Last summer, our first in this house, our spa had a cascade feature, where water gently glided over the divider between pool and spa. The water glistened in the sun and was lovely to see. A few bees visited us and kept to themselves on the cascade, but they left us alone, and we didn’t bother them.
We changed the pool/spa configuration. We raised the divider between the two pools and stopped the cascade. And we added one of those blue “bubble wrap” covers on the spa. And that is how the trouble that spawned this tale began!
Bees came in numbers upwards of 30. (UPDATE: It is now closer to 100 bees on both sides of the former cascade) One early evening My Beloved and I wanted to use the spa. The bees were lined up on the edge of the cover where a little water was exposed. Some flew off and more came in their place. And they were there from dawn to dusk. We pulled off the cover. The bees were annoyed, and let us know about it. They swarmed us and buzzed around our heads and otherwise made the luxury of a hot dip a hot mess. “Just ignore them,” said My Beloved. Such good advice. How do you ignore 20 buzzing angry flying insects that will sting you? I jumped out of the spa, stomped away, and went inside to sulk, leaving My Beloved to cover the spa.
Not willing to give up my sybaritic pleasures, I researched bees and spas and pools. There are blogs by beekeepers, other spa owners, and pool companies. I tried to be scientific about the process. And I was not going to do anything to harm our precious pollinator; bees. I started with the easy stuff first:
Soapy Water: Spray the bees with soapy water. It will kill them when they return to the hive and other bees will get the message and not return. I did not try this. I will not kill bees. And even if this worked, other bees will come. I know they will. The draw of water is too strong.
Vinegar: Add vinegar to your spa water. I love the smell of vinegar and hot water because vinegar reminds me of coloring Easter eggs. But on my skin? Not so much. So I tried this. I sprayed the entire cover of the pool with vinegar. A whole bunch of spray blew in my face. This smells bad, and had no effect on the bees.
Brown Paper Bag: This is a silly idea, but in the interests of research, I tried it. The theory is that a brown paper bag that has been blown up will look like a hive, and the bees that are supposedly territorial will respect their neighbor and find another watering hole. I taped a bag under the lip of my fire pit right near the spa. I did this before the sun was up, so the crafty bees would not see me doing it. A little while later, I checked my experiment, only to find 50 bees and that the bag had blown away and the duct tape was flapping in the breeze. Two neighbors weighed in on this one. One neighbor had luck using the bag to ward off wasps. Another bought a commercial version of the brown paper bag. She said the bag remains in a tree and the bees were never deterred.
Become a Bee Keeper: One blog suggested starting a honeybee hive of your own in a far corner of your yard. This will keep other bees from coming. This is the same idea as the brown bag. Yeah, I am going to do that any time now.
Make a Separate Bee Spa: There are several versions of this from putting a grate on a shallow bowl of water to elaborate pools with flowers and rocks for the bees to light on. Another neighbor tried this with a kiddie pool, flowers, and rocks. The bees still preferred her waterfall.
Cloves: Surprisingly, this works, within limits, and smells like Thanksgiving! I started small. I set out two small bowls half filled with ground cloves. The bees were already enjoying their daily dips. The smell disturbed them, and they flew up and around the spa. They tried to land on the bowls but flew off immediately. Using a thick solution of water, ground cloves and lime juice, I sprayed the cover and the bees. Whoa! They did NOT like that at all. They swarmed up and buzzed loudly, hanging a few feet away from the spa. It was as if they were having an argument. But they peeled off and didn’t come back for hours. I was sitting nearby to observe. One bee buzzed my ear, and more than one buzzed the top of my head. Not one stung me. Eventually the bees came back, but never in the larger numbers, like before
One morning before the sun rose, I refilled my clove dishes. I sprayed the entire perimeter of the pool cover and literally turned my cover brown with clove spray. There were no bees enjoying the pleasures of my spa for hours. Only a few adventurers returned. And the number of bees at my spa has dwindled.
My final assessment: To rid my spa completely of malingering bees, I should remove the cover. There are no bees at the pool because there is no place to land. Since I do not want to waste hot water, my other conclusion is that a new cover that rises up the edge of the spa a few inches above the water line means no water is exposed and there is no place for the bees to light. We just did this today, and the bees again were angry, but they left. As of this writing there have been only 3 bees at my spa.
If you have a pool with an infinity or waterfall edge and are plagued by bees, I suggest a clove atomizer that releases the spray every few hours (like the Fifth Avenue department stores), or a tray of limes dredged in cloves. I went to Chedraui on the weekend to buy more ground cloves. They had none. Could it be that my neighbors bought the store’s supply.
Oh, and one helpful neighbor said that loud rock music deters rattlesnakes, and also offered a mouse deterrent!
In true Mythbusters tradition, I declare the clove cure plausible.
April 26: the bees are back and there are now 100s of them.
I asked the wonderful Bee Lady at the Farmer’s Market wht solution she could reccommend.
She thought a moment, then smiled and said:
” The solution is that the bees use the pool and spa while the sun shines and you use it at night.”
Thank you very much!
Structure Your New Life: Five Ways to Perfect Your Transition to Paradise
One of the most stressful events in anyone’s life is moving, even if the move involves giving up your workaday life and relocating to live the life of your dreams in a beachfront home in sunny La Paz. The vision you had of yourself and your spouse sipping frosty margaritas while surrounded by a group of charming new friends probably did not happen in your first weeks. Instead, you were likely feeling overwhelmed by the hard work you did in order to set up your phone and electricity, and hire a good gardener, maid, and pool service.
For most expats, life eventually smoothes out, they make friends, and they relax and start living on Mexican time, but if you want to get to “eventually,” a little bit sooner, here are five things you can do to make your transition more pleasant.
Learn some Spanish. Enroll in a class at one of the Spanish schools in La Paz. Not only will you improve your knowledge of the local culture, you’ll also meet people much like yourself. (Se Habla La Paz Spanish immersion school (tel: 612 122 7763, email: email@example.com, web: sehablalapaz.com) and El Nopal (tel: 612 188 0577, web: www.elnopalspanish.com)
Go Local: Take to the streets and use what you’ve learned, even if it means carrying a dictionary (there is an app for that) wherever you go. Whether you’re in the bank, the grocery store, or your favorite café, greet people with a smile and a friendly “Buenas dias.” Look people in the eye, learn their names, and tell them yours. Shop in local stores, or just spend a Sunday evening strolling along the Malecon. Paceanos are a friendly bunch and will respond in kind.
Volunteer: There are all kinds of groups that have mixed Mexican and foreign members. Volunteer to serve breakfast to kids from the barrios with FANLAP (tel: 612 121 2166, web: www.lapazninos.org). Walk or foster a shelter dog .
Start a Group: You came down here to have the time to pursue your interests, and many others did, as well. Tell people you want to start an organic garden, a tango club, or a gourmet club. Form a film club and trade reviews of the latest movies. People bond more easily over shared interests, and soon, you’ll be surrounded by friends. Sign up on the La Paz Gringos forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lapazgringos/
Celebrate! Holidays and rituals are an important part of every culture, and taking part in local traditions is crucial to becoming part of a community. Head to the Governor’s Mansion on the evening September 15th to hear El Grito (the scream) – the annual recreation of the call for independence. Visit the Teatro de la Ciudad on November 1st and experience an authentic Day of the Dead festival. Love a parade? You can see one every day during the annual pre-Lenten festival Carnival (shoes optional, shirts required.)
These are just a few of the ways you can ease your transition from turista to ciudana (citizen). Wondering why this is on a real estate page? It’s simple: when you buy a new home, you’re not just purchasing a structure, you’re structuring a new lifestyle.
Don’t you just LOVE technology? Well when it works, and the phone rings with enough time for you to answer it. When the latest upgrade does not cause your passwords, banking info and pictures of your pests to disappear. It’s wonderful. Something we cannot live without.
Then something happens.
Then you are disconnected.
Your passwords don’t work. Your host says it’s you. WordPress says its your host that is the problem. And in Google you discover that tens of thousands of folks have been having the very same issue as you, for years. Well, except for my Darling Daughter. When I call her for help her response is
” I don’t have that issue. I don’t know anyone that does. Its YOU! And I cannot help you.”
Yep the very same daughter that I labored long and hard to bring into this world. That I worked at shitty jobs to pay for cello and tap lessons, big hair perms, and the latest Michael Jackson record.
She says that she cannot help me!
Well sometimes I will struggle with the issue and find a solution. Then I feel strong, and brave and competent.
Then there are times no matter what I read, what I try. No matter how blue my language. Or how many promises I make to the Universe, nothing works. Nothing!
So I am sorry to say dear readers, I gave up.
Since my last post i sold my beach house, lived in a rental across the street from the site of my new house.
That was wonderful, I could watch the construction all day.
When I told my very sage friend, Mary, that I was moving in across the street from the construction site. She responded:
” Your builder’s sphincter muscle just went to level 7.”
Does that mean that she thinks that I am just a tad demanding?
Anyway, things intervened.
A killer hurricane.
Finishing the new house.
Shopping for things for the new house.
Replacing many things that we lost in the hurricane.
Moving into the new house.
A shopping trip to Dallas to buy new computers. (Darling Daughter advised us on what to buy, by the way).
So here I am blog at all systems go.
Please forgive me for not taking care of this sooner. I found many comments from all of you asking where I went.
Well I am settled into the new house. Have a new office/sewing room. A new computer, and time!
Back in the Old Country, when Labor Day passed and the tourists went back to the heartland, we would return to the beaches of the Monterey Peninsula. And the best part was that the weather was golden, warm and sunny.
Remember that oft repeated quote by Mark Twain:
“The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco.”? The same holds true for Monterey and Carmel.
But Fall was special at the beach. The days grew shorter and Halloween items started popping up in stores and on doorsteps. The kids were back in school, and our office hours became more regular again. The rush to Christmas was on.
When my Beloved and I arrived here in August 2000, we had no idea how much we would miss Fall. We had no idea how much we would miss the crisping of the air, the turning of the leaves, rain and the smell of wood smoke in the air. We missed Fall.
September is the month I became an aunt for the first time, and I attended a wedding back in the 70s in September, where the bride and groom did not exchange rings, there was no white dress and no words like “husband” and “wife” were allowed. September was the month in 1968 when my first lover left me to drive the “Baja”. I had no idea what the Baja was. And in September 1969, as I returned to my college, the first question everyone asked was: “Did you go to Woodstock?”
But now September sings a different song for us. Today, nearly three weeks into September, Fall is almost officially here. The mornings are cooler, dark comes earlier, the threat of a big hurricane hitting increases, and the Malecon is still decked out in streamers of red, green, and white. We sometimes emerge from hibernating in our air conditioned homes. The tourists and snowbirds are starting to return. Social activities pick up, and planning committees for charity events are meeting.
Once Independence Day on the 16th of September passes, Halloween and Day of the Dead items cohabitate on store shelves. The back to school rush is over. Groups of school kids in their plaid uniforms mingle and lounge on the Malecon.
Change is in the air, I always have a sense of expectation and a sense of time rushing by. And as the song says, “…the days dwindle down to a precious few…” The year is ending, holidays are approaching.
Chiles en Nogada, A Patriotic Dish Traditionally Served in September.
By Susan Fogel
Okay, so you aren’t going to go to the Palacio to take part in El Grito, and maybe you even decided against finding a place to watch the fireworks. There is one thing you can do the week of September 16th, and that is enjoy a truly wonderful dish called Chiles en Nogada. No worries we are not going to print a recipe here. These babies take a lot of work. And when anyone talks about this gorgeous, rich, sumptuous dish, they all say: “Oh I love Nogada, but they are too much work to make myself!”
Where is grandma when you need her anyway?
If you have ever made green chile soup, arroz verde or chiles relleno, you know what hard work is when it comes to cooking with these wonderful, beefy poblano chiles.
Here is how Wikipedia describes Chiles en Nogada:
“…Chiles en nogada is a poblano chile stuffed with ground beef, fruit, herbs, and spices, then covered in a creamy walnut sauce. The final garnish is pomegranate seeds. The three colors of the Mexican flag are represented here, green for the chiles, the walnut sauce is white, and the pomegranate seeds are red, so this is a very traditional dish eaten during the month of September in Mexico…”
Here is how I describe it: Rich, sweet, succulent with a little bite from the poblano chiles, scrumptious. One September, I ate it every day at different restaurant. I just could not get enough.
The wonderful thing about holiday specialties is that they are only served during their special holiday. They do not become commonplace.
Chiles en Nogada are not cheap as an entrée, but my friends you will not be disappointed.
My mouth is watering as I write this!
Grab your partner, a friend, or someone off the street just say “Want to go have Nogada?” and complete strangers will follow you anywhere.
At press time several of the other, better restaurants in town were not serving nogada, or were undecided .
So head to one of these wonderful, La Paz restaurants and enjoy the crowd and festive atmosphere.
LasTres Virgenes on Madero Street a few doors from Aramburo, Jesse Chavez, owner and head food designer says Nogada have been on the menu for a week already. It is always best to make reservations 123 2226 Café El Corazon on Revolucion and 5 de Mayo: starting this Friday until the end of the month for reservations:
128 8985 El Rincon Gourmet will be serving Nogada all month. Theyare on Bravo near TELMEX.