Mexico Musings

January 6th. Twelfth Night, King’s Day, Epiphany
Today has many names, and is also reflection of the confusion of dates in the Bible.
Christian Lore has the Three Wise Men or Three Kings, ( but not the Three Tenors) following a star to Bethlehem to bring gifts to the newborn king, on December 24th,and Jesus was born on Christmas Day. Yet January 6th is celebrated in Christianity and especially in Latin America as the day the kings arrive.
And even as a child I thought the words to “We Three Kings” were absurd: “…a child shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold…” Well why not a warm blanket? I actually asked this of my mother, who swatted me with a dish towel and yelled some Italian curses.

I have been remiss and not written in my blog since December 23. Well, I was busy. We were having guests in for the traditional Latin American Noche Buena dinner. “Noche Buena” has three uses here in Mexico. It means Blessed Night or Good Night, but the name is applied to Christmas Eve, Poinsettias, and a special beer.

I roasted 18 poblano chiles for my oft-mentioned and fabulous sopa de chile verde (green chile soup). Completed my wrapping of gifts, and welcomed my guests. Dinner ended past midnight. My beloved and I breakfasted in front of the fireplace in the sala (living room) since the remains of last night’s dinner were still on the table. ( It ended at midnight remember). We lazed around on Christmas Day and received calls from the children. At five we went to our Colombian friend Luz’ home for a traditional Colombian dessert of crema and kiwi . “We had no strawberries, so I used kiwi, but this is what we always have on Christmas.” Luz explained. Such is life in La Paz, you learn to substitute the available fruit for the usual fruit…or any other ingredient . Cooking, sewing, home repairs are exercises in substitution and invention. But I digress.
The days after Christmas were spent visiting and delivering gifts, and trying out the new restaurants in town…less crowded, but still decorated and everyone was in a festive mood.

As we drove back and forth to town all month we saw a trailer with a lighted parking area and a sign “Vente de Cohetes” (cohetes for sale). “What are cohetes?” asked my beloved. “ I have no idea.” He always asks me these things, since his Spanish is still very limited, and he also admires my superior intellect…except when we fight. Finally on December 31, when we were making a foray into town to provision up before the drunks started throwing fireworks everywhere, the light dawned: “Fireworks! Cohetes are fireworks!” And this year like no other New Year’s Eve in La Paz, Cohetes exploded, fizzled, were spectacular, and some smokey, and everywhere. We live on the beach across the bay from La Paz. We sat at the foot of the bed in our darkened bedroom (too cold to go outside) in front of the sliding glass wall. Not only were there fireworks going off on our beach, the annual neighborhood party, plus many locals setting them off. Fireworks exploded and billowed their gorgeous blooms from everywhere in town across the bay and we had a front row seat.

This year there is a sense of renewed hope that Obama will make progress and change the world. Our Mexican friends were demanding that we vote for Obama. So here in La Paz hope was celebrated in loud, explosive style.
This brings me to today, January sixth. Today in homes across Latin America, the families will gather for hot chocolate (the drink of Mayan royalty) and Rosta del Reyes or King’s Bread. It is bread ring, sweet and bedecked with candied fruit. Buried inside are a plastic baby Jesus. Everyone takes their turn with the knife and cuts a slice, each hoping they do not get the baby. The person that finds the baby must host a dinner for all present on February second. It must be tamales and hot chocolate. This was the traditional time that Latin and Spanish children would receive gifts in their shoes that they had laid out the night before . The Three Tenors, I mean the Three Kings would leave trinkets in their shoes. And some still do this. At the federal agency where my beloved works there will be a rosta big enough to serve the several hundred people that work there. And later in February they will serve tamales.
Christmas in Mexican homes looks the same as in American homes, the tree, garlands, lights, Christmas dishes, stockings, piles of gifts, too many cookies, and Christmas Villages.

But today January sixth still belongs to the old tradition. The Naciemiento, or Nativity Scene will have the Baby Jesus in his cradle and the three Kings present. It will stay up until February 2. And today you are still on time with Christmas gifts. After today you are late.

December 23rd, two days till Christmas. But here in La Paz it is one day until the Mexican celebration. They call Christmas Eve Noche Buena (good night, or beautiful night).
Actually there are three uses for Noche Buena, Christmas Eve, the Poinsettia, and a special beer brewed only at Christmas, they all share the name.
The family gathers, and the cooking starts early in the day. The family sits down to dinner close to midnight. And it is a feast with turkey and the fixings, and desserts and coffee. The kids are bursting with excitement and just want to tear into their presents.
The papers fly, wrapping is torn, ribbons are cut, tissue is unfolded, and the long awaited gifts appear.
After everyone has opened their gifts, and the kids succumb to sleep, the adults have one more drink, a nibble of food and go off to bed. The morning is quiet, the kids play with their toys, and the old folks sit and talk and catch up on a year’s worth of memories. It is a quiet day, a day of cozy home time. Later in the day, the family ventures out to the Malecon, the downtown beach walk. Kids on new bikes, wobbling on roller blades, flying fantastical kites and walking new puppies are laughing and shouting. Mom,Dad and Grandparents saunter along keeping a loose rein on the kids.
The street along the Malecon has been closed to cars since evening on the 24th. It is a peaceful, slow and gentle afternoon. And most years it is sunny, a touch chilly for the locals, but truly a day in paradise.
So I went to pick up my friend Maria for our Christmas coffee and gift exchange. She presented me with my gift, wrapped in asparkly green gift bag topped with tissue confetti. “And now I know that a gift of the hand is a gift of the heart.” “Maria” I said “My mother always said that!”
“I know, I have been reading your blog.”
Maria told me she reads my blog every day, and truly enjoys it.
“I want you to know that your letter to Obama was beautiful, and the ending is exactly right, we all have great expectations for him.”
I am blown away. Not only is she reading my blog, but she is quoting it! Maria was my first friend in La Paz. And her family is now my family. We are included in their celebrations whether it is a wedding, a First Communion, a family party or smaller events. Maria is smart, bi-lingual, beautiful and my friend.
Her son, Horacio works with my husband. Her daughter-in-law, Tere is my hairdresser and massage therapist. And she comes to the house to make me beautiful. Their twin boys Alex and Eric are very dear to us. And this year we gave them the knee pads, wrist and elbow protectors to go with their new roller blades.
So here we are two days before Christmas sitting in the local café talking about politics on both sides of the border. We discuss our kids, their kids, our plans for the New Year, and how we will each spend the next two days.
My birthday is February 21st and Maria’s comes only every four years on February 29th So we celbrate it on the 28th. We pick a day durng February and always spend our birthdays together, usually at Hotel La Concha on the beach. This year I tell her we are having a 1970’s party based on the film “Mama Mia”.
We both have things to do to be ready for the Noche Buena dinners we are cooking.
I drop her off, we kiss, and I head back home. I am smiling, my heart is full. December 23rd, two days before Christmas.
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There are storms up north. It was 20 in Seattle. There is sleet and a dusting of snow in Los Angeles. It was 40 below in Calgary Alberta. Clouds and wind are coming down from Canada. Our usually flat-as- a- mirror bay has white caps and waves. I heard waves hissing, and swishing all night. It is romantic and soothing, a sound broken occasionally by the call of a sea bird. We are snuggled under our comforter and wearing flannel pajamas. Our snowbird neighbors find us an amusing bunch. You can tell the year –rounders from the snow birds by the amount of clothing they are wearing.
It is cold here. It was 53 degrees this morning when I woke, and it is now 64. It got up to the high 70’s and it was sunny and still. Down right frigid for those of us that have acclimated to the La Paz weather.
But the winds came back. The wind churns up the bay, this is a call to action to the birds of prey: osprey, hawks and even buzzards wheel and swoop. The osprey dive for food. In come the graceful, elegant, and thieving frigate birds. They steal food from any other bird, even their own kind.
All of the birds fight and screech and the noise is frightful. They scream at each other chase each other over the water screeching and shrieking the whole time. They fly away until they are a dot on the horizon, then come screaming back still fighting, whirling and wheeling.
One winter day my friend Mary came by for coffee.
I greeted her at the door she said look over to your right. I looked and saw her car, “ So” I said, “you washed it?” “No! I meant look down and to your right.”
And there in the dirt on the street side of my house, hundreds of feet from the water, was a red snapper almost two feet long flapping and gasping. It had big chunks of flesh missing.
“How did that get there ?” I asked.
Mary explained that as she was driving toward the house from the beach side she saw a gull and a frigate bird fighting over a fish. They dropped it on my roof, swooped down grabbed it , fought over it whirling and tugging. Theylost hold of it and it went flying, and ricocheted off the portico (leaving a blood trail on the new paint) and landed in the dirt.
“Oh great!” I said, “Now I have to kill it.” Just as I was deciding what to use to free the miserable creature from it’s misery, the men working on the house next door came over and asked if they could have the fish! They had also watched the entire fight! And they had lunch delivered; the freshest fish around that day.
The birds were still circling overhead. Not screeching though. Definitely deciding if it was worth coming in for their booty.
It was a cold windy day that time too.
Must be something in the air.
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there's fire in the sky!

Morning
Gently, I wake. I roll onto my back and catch the first glimpse of the sunrise.
The mountains across the bay are outlined in hot red, as if there were a fire behind them. In effect there is a fire, the sun. The line spreads and fills the cloudy sky. Colors from hot, firey ornage to a blush of peach fill the sky. The bay is molten, the pool a smaller caldron. Depending on their density, the clouds take on the colors of the rising sun. The sky is streaked from black to red, my room is filled with the glow of embers.
It is as if the very air is on fire. I lie and watch the show, in silence. I do not even want to call my beloved, the act of moving may cause me to miss a subtle change. No need to call out, he comes into the room , softly says my name and says “ Darling, are you awake? Look at the sky!”
“ I know”, I say, “ I have been watching it.” He wonders where the camera is.
I tell him it is in my office on the shelf always at the ready to take in the changing view outside. “Sweetie”, I say, “ it will change before you can focus, just enjoy the moment.” And besides I have picture after picture of La Paz sunrises on my hard drive. This one is dramatic and showy, but I have dozens saved, let’s just enjoy the moment.” The sun crests the mountains, the sky lightens, and the few minutes of sunrise are over.
This is a rare morning with me still in bed at sunrise, and him upright and lucid this early. By the time he usually rises, I have been up for hours. I have had my coffee, sat in the dark in the living room watching the city lights fade as the sun rises. By the time he is dressed, I have been writing, and this time of year sewing gifts. In summer I would be in the pool, naked, watching the day come to life. In winter where it gets down to the high 50’s , I am in long pajama bottoms, a t-shirt and fuzzy flip-flops. It is almost chilly enough for a fire.

This Sunday, a few days before Christmas, and a day when 6 friends are invited for breakfast, we are both up at the same time. It is nice, a different pace, slow, expectant, and yet we are busy. We share a moment in front of the Christmas tree with our freshly squeezed juice and hot coffee, then set about on our tasks to prepare for our guests. We chat, banter and joke as we move through our chores.” On days like this” he says, “I really feel like I am in paradise.” I agree and we decide not to sell the house today.
We have been vacillating for years about whether to stay in Mexico, or cash in on the boom down here, sell our dream beach house, and buy something at the fire sale in the old country. That way we will have a home near our kids and we can have all the bookstores, cafes and museums we want. We have convinced ourselves more than once that it would be fun to live in a loft in downtown Portland, Seattle or San Diego. We can walk to a café, a bar or bookstore. With the exception of Portland beaches are right there.
Then we remember the violence, the cost of everything, the increasingly unpredictable and harsh weather and the power outages, and we say “Let’s just visit el norte and stay here.” We would miss so much, among the things we would miss is the fish guy that comes every Saturday with fish and shrimp fresh from the bay for pennies on the kilo compared to Seattle, Portland or San Diego.
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My Favorite Christmas Ornament

I love Christmas. I love trimming the tree, making gifts for my friends and family. I love finding that perfect something to delight my children and my husband.
I love to sew special gifts last years it was hisand her aprons and neck roll pillows and sleep masks for use on airplanes. This year it is purses.And Green Chile Soup.
Even though I have eschewed religion a long time ago, I love the sacred music and have no problem with phrases like “Glory to God” and “Jesus our savior reigns”. The words are lovely, the songs joyous, fun and sometimes solemn. They are a part of Christmas. I am a radical feminist but I still love to sing and chuckle at the words of “Santa Baby”.
It is the tree and the delicate glass ornaments, the lights, and the glow that I love the most.
Do you have favorite ornaments? I do. And over the years the favorites have changed. When my daughter was young any and all of the ornaments that she made were my favorite.
I have an old , very old, as old as my oldest sister, tin Santa that is scuffed and dented, I cherish him.
But my current favorites are my ice skating- themed ornaments. I dream of figure skaters twirling and leaping most nights, really I do. And I have custom made skates from the same place Brian Boitano has his made. I won a drawing and got to skate arm in arm with Dorothy Hammil. I live on the beach in La Paz, Baja California Sur, no snow here, no ice, no indoor rinks. My skates live in my daughter’s guest room in Dallas.
But I have some wonderful ice skate ornaments. And one year last century I was shopping in World Market after Christmas and I found a delicate hand blown Italian glass figure skater. It was 70% off and still cost $21.00. I had to have her! And I am glad I bought her. She is me when I am on skates…at least I feel like her. So here she is and some of my skate ornaments. The big glass skates are from my daughter.
So this year ice skates charm and enchant me more than the other ornaments.

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Breakfast at Lulu’s…not exactly Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Although she did have her silver coffee service!
My friend and colleague, Denisse and I decided we needed to have a Christmas lunch with Lulu to simply socialize and exchange gifts. She said she would arrange a day and time with Lulu since she was on her way to Lulu’s office. When I did not hear anything for a few days I figured they were still discussing. Then late on Friday Denisse called to say she forgot to tell me we were having breakfast at Lulu’s on Monday at 9:00 am!
I live across the bay from La Paz, and we do have a rush hour, I was not real thrilled with having to be somewhere so early. But for my friends I made the effort. About 8:00 I was wrapping the silk purses I had made for them, the phone rang. “Oh no I said please don’t tell me Lulu is cancelling!” I had become excited about going to town early and I was dressed.
She was just checking to make sure I was coming.
I made it through the morning rush and even found a place to park around the corner. Lulu lives in the heart of downtown not far from the governor’s palace.
Lulu ( short for Lourdes) greeted me with the traditional Mexican kiss and ushered m upstairs to her apartment.
I could smell the spices in the muchaca , (shredded beef with tomato and spice), it melts in your mouth, strong coffee with a hint of cinnamon. The table was set with her Christmas dishes, and her silver coffee service. I oohed and aahed, and she said “Well of course only the best for my friends.”
Denisse arrived, and we sat down to our feast of muchaca, frijoles, potato pancakes and a slab of queso fresco (like a farmer’s cheese). We talked and laughed and exchanged our gifts.
We talked about how the men in our lives always complain about the extra work and all of the fuss and bother of Christmas, but when the tree is lit, the table is set and the family gathers and lift their glasses by candle light, they see the love and the joy, and they understand.
So breakfast at Lulu’s was special. And I am blessed by my friends.

The Beaches are Free!
Oh yes they are. In Mexico the beaches must always be accessible to anyone that would like to use them…on foot. Just as in California, Oregon, Washington and points north, driving on the beach is illegal and carries a huge fine.
Here in Baja California Sur where the law is fluid, and the local police are not highly trained, the words “the beaches are free” translates to: drive anything, do anything, and leave your garbage which includes dirty diapers ON THE BEACH! We have had community beach cleanup days, business sponsored Playas Limpias ( clean beaches)campaigns where they hand out black garbage bags to beach goers. And recently a state agency sent workers to thoroughly clean the beaches.
The municipality has agreed to close our streets in our little corner of La paz at the beach end, leaving a small opening wide enough for a wheelchair or bicycle. But they have not started the work yet.

We were expecting friends for a holiday drink and to send them off on their boat with a smile and our good wishes. They got a show as well.
So today, a gorgeous December day, we heard a noise like a T-Rex farting. I went out to the edge of our terrace and there was a tractor (cab of a BIG truck) stuck in the sand, down the beach about a half mile. The driver was churning his wheels, doing great damage to the beach. After long minutes of churning, the occupants got out surveyed the mess, hopped back in and churned some more.
Then one of them ripped the for sale sign from a beachfront house and tried to use it as traction. On an on they churned, and honked the diesel air horn in frustration. Then came a group of their friends all in different pickups and dump trucks, and of course the loud music that accompanies all life in Mexico.
They did the universal male thing, they stood around for a long, long time. When nothing happened, well I am sure one of them burped and another farted and one scratched his butt, then they started pushing and pulling at the same time…I am not making this up.
So the afternoon progressed. And the truck continued in its’s churning and horn blasting. Then, almost as if it were heeding a mating call, along came another tractor blaring its horn, a truck cab in heat.
More churning, more music, a lot of cheering and yelling, and the next thing we knew, there was silence… the stuck truck was free. The friends in the smaller trucks dispersed, and the driver and co-pilot of the formerly stuck truck drove on down the beach blaring his horn, blasting his “jake” breaks, and thankfully left.
Shortly after we had to meet friends at the airport. We passed a Tecate Six a small drive up beer store , and there was Mr. T-Rex, formerly stuck truck. I am sure he relished his beer. And I know he did not have a particularly good beach day. And maybe, just maybe he will come to the beach on foot.
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