Saturday, May 30, 2009
You're a GOD!
Aaah…woke up to the sound of the propane dude’s recorded trumpet charge and declaration: “You’re a GOD!…you’re a god.” Atleast that’s what it sounded like to my gringo ears. Some mornings it sounds like “You’re a DOG!…you’re a dog.” But this morning “I’m a god!” And I must say, it feels great. The sun is shining; a rooster’s crowing; dogs are barking; a man’s whistling; a dump truck just drove by full of rubble, and someone in the street just asked “Como esta?” Becky turned the fountain on; Nemo grabbed his Frisbee, and I hear a shutter tripping. She must be taking photographs of her yellow calla lilies.
Yesterday, we worked in the garden until noon—pruning, potting, planting—then walked down to the Friday market at Plaza San Francisco in search of flower pots. Ran into our dear friends Santiago, Bob and Rosa, who were loaded down with plants from Uruapan. After a nice visit and plans to get together we marched into the mercado to stock up on produce. Love the mercado in Patzcuaro; it’s a maze of narrow streets covered with colorful, plastic tarpoleums that go up each morning and come down each evening. Always bustling with people shopping, men delivering boxes of fruits and vegetables on dollies sporting multi-colored ropes, men carrying sides of beef on bloody shoulders, and women carrying sleeping babies wrapped in dark blue rebozos. Yesterday, it seemed everyone was eating a big bag of changungas (a type of yellow cherry). Saw the most amazing little mangoes the size of walnuts, others the size of cantelopes, and fresas and blackberries and tiny, smooth-skinned aguacates. The mercado is full to bursting with produce but also other essential items and services one needs to make it thru each day, including: bootleg cds, giant bags of cheetos, dirty comic books, machetes, and an impressive number of little barber shops. At the epicenter of the mercado is a cool building containing carnecerias and florerias full of busy people chopping and arranging. Near Super Pollo there are always three or four Purepecha women in traditional dress sitting on the floor selling amazing handmade tortillas, and usually blue corn tortillas. Rico! Our pink vinyl shopping bags maxed out with a week’s worth of goodies, we hit Rive Pan for pastries, bought a couple of rotesserie chickens, then headed home for a delicious comida and siesta.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Racconto
Soon after we landed in Locust Bayou the mosquitos started biting. But we enjoyed visiting and eating a yummy fried catfish dinner prepared by Ophie Grace. Everyone served themselves off the stovetop; some stayed inside to watch the game while I sat outside with JT, Judy (Becky’ cousin), and her husband Steve. The carport’s connected to the house and open on three sides with twenty or thirty mounted deer trophies lining the interior. Barn swallows had nests in all four corners and were actively feeding their young while we ate. Our dogs did great. Earlier, I’d taken them for a big walk in the back, past the coneflowers and Catawba trees, near the swampy woods were the swamp rabbits play. Just past JT’s shooting target there were five fresh catfish heads resting comfortably among the crawdad mounds. In the distance I could see Doyle Jr's new pond and saw and heard his son’s Treeing Walker Hounds howling. Nemo bolted towards them then bolted back. After dinner, Nemo entertained us with his tennis ball skills and everyone shared stories. JT told me more about the Walker hounds and his nephew who hunts raccoons with them. “The carcasses bring about $6 a piece and he’ll get five or six in a night. He sells the skins but gets more for the meat. But he really just enjoys the hunt. When you skin them you got to leave one foot with claws on it to prove it’s a coon and not a cat.” Steve was curious about our travels in Mexico and seemed impressed with a teacher’s summers off. So I told him a bit about my work then asked about his. Turns out, he works for a diaper company in Locust. JT said: “I know a fellar who was fined $500 for stealing their reject diapers from the dump. He was selling defective diapers and got caught.” (Fast forward to Texas and beyond) We got up early and drove thru Hope and Cumby and Waco. We saw lots of exes in Texas. Crossing the border was incredibly quiet and humorous. Luckily we weren’t in a big hurry. Driving to Matehuala was long and lovely although driving in Mexico is anything but relaxing. Zipping along at 120 kph then rounding a curve to greet a propane truck going 10 kph. Oh yeah. Or a cow. (Texting while driving…not such a problem here). All the while soaking in the majesty of the Sierre Madres and the flatlands in between—endless, rough little villages with poetic names and zones populated with roadside stands selling fresas con crema or animal skins and strings of garlic. Glancing to the right to see a stick-wielding shepherd herding sheep and goats. Glancing to the left to catch a glimpse of a tiny, bright white statue of Jesus cocked at an odd angle in tall grass while a sudden swarm of bugs dot my windshield. And seven rows of speed bumps bring me back. We arrived in Matehuala at dusk. The Oasis was dog-friendly and reasonably priced, and cars bumping over nearby topes during the night sounded exactly like someone breaking into my car.
On the road to Patzcuaro 2009
Back to the rooftop blog one year later. Much has happened during the past year but enough about that. During the last two weeks, we have survived strep throat, spider bites, torrential rainstorms, and gigantic mosquitos just trying to make it back to our safe haven in Mexico. And as is customary on Brawner road trips, just as we finished packing, our dogs ran off. Sick to death of waiting on us, they decided to run to Patzcuaro. Luckily they came to their senses, and came home after about an hour, soaking wet and full of cuckle burrs...ready to ride. Nashville to Locust Bayou to San Antonio to Matehuala to Patzcuaro. Four scenic days on the road, we made it here with no drama and much beauty. Let the summer begin!
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