Greasing the Wheels

Mexico has several levels of economy operating simultaneously. There is the regular economy, which buys and sells in international markets of moneys and goods. This is represented by banks, regular retail stores, and the growing number of U.S.-based giants such as Wal-Mart and The Home Depot. Then there is another layer, local businesses of craft, art, food, hospitality like hotels and taxi companies. Then there is the artesenian layer, which is the most fascintating to me. This includes all the stalls on the street here in town, the wandering musicians, the produce vendors in the markets and the guys who make elotes and cocos frescas in the street. Below that is the pitiable, but still dignified level of the indiginous vendor, and handicapped musician. At the very bottom is the most desperate and sad beggar, who by life choices or miserable circumstances can barely lift a hand to accept a coin. These levels overlap some, and there are no real defining lines between them, and I am sure there are finer distinctions to be made, but you can see examples of each of these everywhere, in every city in Mexico.

In every level, money talks. Jon once remarked as we observed the local Indians hanging over the wire fence at El Tajin to sell jicama and watermelon, that the reason Mexicans are always selling stuff is because Mexicans are always buying stuff. It's great when there are tourists around, but Mexicans also buy from each other in a steady stream of small cash payments. There are whole levels of economy, the largest transaction of which might be as much as 50 pesos. Some prices are negotiable, but some are not, and it's not always clear when they will be or not.

We have noticed that it is very rare for ANY business to have correct change for cash transactions. This is a problem when the ATMS traffic exclusively in 500 peso notes. It is more than likely that if you buy something, even if it costs 300 pesos or more, the shopkeeper will have to run next door for the change. This brings up the question of why, if their neighbor has the change, do they not? OR is it really all just one giant store, and so the money belongs to all? Whatever the case, this is why we stood in line to get change at the bank the other day.

After our miraculous recovery of the ATM card, Jon wanted to stop in to the shop selling dulces regionales and buy some candy for the bank worker who helped us. He found a nice wrapped package of colorful dried and candied fruit, and we stopped back at the bank to give it to the man. It was just closing time, so we knocked on the door, and let the folks inside know that we had a present for our helper. They called him to come and accept his gift, and we went on our way.

It wasn't long before we were out of cash again. So we stopped at the same ATM- our friend waved at us- and once again were faced with a pile of 500s. So once again we stood in line for the teller. This time, however, our friend joined us, behind the counter, and somehow got the teller to give us TONS of small bills! We got a stack of 20s that I am still doling out for tips and small purchases. Also 50s which are very useful.

Jon is sure it's because of the candy!

Unintended Consequences

Tonight was a quiet night on the Parian. After a scrumptious dinner at El Pescador Rojas, an off-the-beaten-track mariscos restaurant (Jon is so good at finding stuff like this searching the web) we dressed up and took ourselves and my violin over there. Last night, we told the Aguilas guys that we would come early so I could play with them before it got busy.

When we got there, one or two of the Aguilas were around, and they said hello. We told them I was ready to play and had my violin. They SEEMED to understand, but then went off to try to drum up business. When they got near our table, having been unsuccessful at getting any takers, we reminded them that I wanted to play, and actually we wanted to hear them anyway. Finally, they called all the guys together, and they seemed excited that I was going to play with them. We started with Jesusita then did both La Negra and the Viva Veracruz medley, which is actually four songs in one. Jon got it all on tape, so I will subject you all to it at some point, no doubt!

When we met these guys the first night, we were struck by how lackluster their playing was and how tired and old they all seemed. Tonight when I played with them, I looked around at their faces, and I swear they were beaming. I don't know why it tickles them so to see this old, fat guera playing their songs, but doing so lit a spark under them at least for a little while.

After we finished the songs I know, a man from another table came and wanted me to play something else. I said I didn't know any more songs, but he was willing to pay for any more two songs as long as I played along. So the guys included me in a rousing version of (I thought of you, Susan as we played) Mariachi Loco and a totally new song for me-La Culebra-which means The Snake. We finished playing, and our new friends congratulated me, and shook hands all around. The one violinist hung back to chat again. I guess my violin case is really something, because he wanted to know all about it. Now I realize that Isaiah was also admiring my case. I know now that the Spanish word for case is estuche.

Here's the thing I didn't expect from all this. I DID expect to learn some new music, some things about the life of a working mariachi. But I wasn't prepared for the happiness and wonder my playing brought to the patrons, staff and musicians of the Parian. Each time I have played here, I have heard cheering, and seen waiters stop in their tracks to see what was going on.
I got compliments from several people, and our violin friend told us he loves us, me and Jon. (I have to say here that I could not, would not have done any of this without Jon's constant encouragement, and devotion to the project. He encouraged me to call Raul and when I was too shy, he did it for me. He encouraged me to get this nifty new violin. He has been there with the camera, and the language skills to negotiate the money...oh yes, I paid to play! He looks up new songs on Rhapsody and enjoys hearing them as much as I do. We are truly a team in this!) Even when I played with Raul's band in L.A. I got great crowd response. I'm not sure what to make of it all, but I am deeply moved by it, and it reminds me once again what a powerful unifier music is, and how lucky I am to have it as a way to connect with people.

I like to think, and maybe this is presumptuous of me, that our being here, doing this crazy thing, wanting to play with the mariachis, is something that people will talk about, will be part of the stories the musicians recall and tell. "Remember that crazy old white lady who came and knew three songs, and wanted to play them every night with us?" Maybe tonight when their wives ask "how was work?" they will have a funny little story to tell. I know these are stories I will tell. Thanks for reading!

Another Night, With Mariachis

Last night we went again to the Parian. As we entered, the musicians sitting in the portal looked askance at me. I'm not sure if they were giving me the once-over as a freak or as a friend, but I tried not to let it get to me. I had elected to leave the violin home, because I didn't want make assumptions about my welcome in the music scene. I had done what I came to do, and if the opportunity presented itself, we are just a block away, so it would be easy to dash home and get my instrument. Besides, rain was threatening.

This time we went back to the corner where we had ended up the second night: El Salon Monterrey. This is a better spot with better service, a nice clean restroom and they give peanuts! We ordered a cazuela for each of us. This is a large clay bowl full of ice and the juice of limes and grapefruits, and there is probably some sugar in there. The fruits are in there as well. The waiter puts the bowl in front of you and fills from a bottle a shot glass with tequila. And I mean, FILLS it! 2 1/2 ounces is what it says on the menu. You pour the shot over the bowl of fruit and juice and then sip slowly. One of these babies lasts a good while, and is an economical drink that is tasty and refreshing. Kids get it without the tequila.

Pretty soon, the mariachis from the first night, Los Aguilas, showed up and played a couple songs for the large group at a table next to us. They greeted us warmly as they recognized us from before, and asked where my violin was. Wouldn't you know it! I told them I left it home, but they played for us La Binkina, one of my new favorite songs. Then they wanted me to play one of their violins, so I did and we did Son de La Negra. People gathered around, and the adjacent tables shouted "otra!otra!" as they had on the other occasion! I declined to play another, as the group had done three for us (we also heard Tequila con Limon a song Raul had said we would hear for sure on the Tequila train, but hadn't) so we paid up and they split. The first old violinist we had talked to on the very first day hung back for a few minutes and wanted to chat. We talked around the idea of me bringing my violin today, early, to play with them before it gets busy. So that's what we will do.

This picture is of the place where Mariachis hang up their instruments when they are on a break.

Fortune Telling Birds, and Other Animals

Jon says they have these in Korea too. It's pretty cute, though I am sure the fortunes have no bearing on reality, right? The canaries are trained to pick three little folded packets of paper from the box and drop them on the table. For their reward they get to eat a couple seeds from the man's fingers. I liked this cage which was a representation of the spires of the cathedral in Guadalajara. (The video is at the bottom- I haven't quite figured out how to move things around on the page...)

Speaking of birds. Yesterday when we were having dinner at the Adobe, the passing pedestrian traffic included a man and his dogs. We have seen this guy and these dogs before and wish we had a picture of them. One of the dogs we would like to bring home with us, he is so cute. Name of Junior. Head does not match body, like a dog made out of leftover dog parts. But we were speaking of birds. The man- who appears very simple, or drunk, or both- had clinging to his shirt a tiny, not-quite-fully-fledged HUMMINGBIRD! Now you guys know how I love hummingbirds and we have thrilled to see them come to the hotel garden in the mornings, to drink from the lilies in vases on the tables, but this was just too much! I thought I would faint from the strange wonderfulness of it. The man scooped the tiny thing into his hand, and handed it to me, but before I could take hold of it, it fluttered its wings and took off! It raised up like an overloaded helicopter, and landed in the windowsill behind us. I scooped it up and handed it back to the man, who assured us it would have come back to him on his own! My, my! Got me a Handi-Wipe after that. Whew!

Well, we thought it was cute, anyway!

These signals are all over Guadalajara Centro, and I was going to put this up on YouTube. It made us laugh. Apparently, we are not alone in our appreciation, as there are MANY versions of the same thing to be seen on YouTube. So if you have 60 seconds to spare, have a look and see if it amuses you! Mas rapido!

City Hall, Museums, Restaurants and the Swine Flu

One of our favorite places to visit in any large Mexican city is its City Hall or Palacio Municipal. Usually there are some fine art works displayed, interesting exhibits, and they ALWAYS have a public restroom. They are also easy to find, usually on one facing side of the main plaza, along with the Palacio Gobierno de Estado-if a state capital, and the main cathedral for the city.

Guadalajara has a wonderful City Hall, with at least two powerful Orozco murals (one of which, shown here, of Miguel Hidalgo, is in the main stairwell) and an exhibit of some historical import. It also has a great restroom, and after the bouncy bus ride in from Tlaquepaque yesterday we headed straight for it. It was Sunday, but the doors stood open to the grand courtyard inside. At each door was posted a pair of guards. They asked to see the contents of our bags, and did a peak into my purse and Jon's little backpack. No metal detectors, and only the most welcoming of aspect, we were told "pasale". Just inside the large wooden doors was a table and a bottle of hand sanitizer and a box of paper towels. A big poster behind the table outlined the need to wash hands frequently. We ignored all of this and walked on in. We had also been here last week and ignored it then as well. We usually carry Handi-Wipes with us, and do wash our hands frequently when traveling.

After using the facilities, we ventured out to the street again to take in lunch at La Gorda, a chain that comes highly recommended. We were not disappointed. The food is simple, but delicious. Very authentic- and not for the novice. I am not a big fan of chicharrones, but the plate we ordered included them so I gave them a try. They were covered in sauce and very tender, and I did eat a bit of it. One piece on each of our plates had bristles of hair sticking out, so we didn't eat those, but felt like wimps not doing so.

Fortified, we found the Museo Regional, which we hadn't seen on our last trip to town. (Museums in Mexico tend to have some of the best restrooms as well. These things are important to know, especially if you have just come from breakfast where the server was quick with the coffee pot!) It's a nice little museum with historical photographs of the years 1910-1915 or so- revolutionary years. There is also an anthropological section, with some fine examples of ceramic and clay work from the western parts of Mexico. There is even a small exhibit of paleantology, with a mammoth skeleton dominating the main room.

After the museum we walked around some more, bought some earrings for me, and then needed a restroom again, so headed back to City Hall. We went through a different entrance this time, and not only did they want to look in our bags, but they wanted to be sure we understood we should wash our hands before entering. This was not the first time we had encountered this.

Tlaquepaque has some really fine restaurants, and we have enjoyed some of them more than once. The atmosphere at El Patio is convivial and the food is great. We loved the queso fundido there, with squash blossoms and black mushrooms. The Adobe has tables right on the pedestrian street, so a diner is subject to some involvement with passing beggars, but the food-especially the arrechera beef-is excellent, as is the service. The Casa Fuerte has probably the most tranquil and beautiful ambiance, and some of the dishes on the menu are wonderful- like the squash blossom soup and the queso fundido, while some are just so-so.

At each restaurant last week we found waiters wearing surgical masks. On the Tequila Train and during our meal there, the waiters wore surgical masks. In the bathrooms are signs reminding people how to wash hands properly, and restaurant hostesses sometimes present us with a squirt of hand sanitizer and a paper towel before seating us. As I washed my hands in one restroom somewhere, a lady poked me in the side and pointed to the soap, reminding me that I should use it. (For the record: I WAS going to use it, just was looking around to see where it was!) The H1-N1 virus has taken a toll on tourism, we are told, and it makes sense to take precautions, especially around food service. However, all of these attempts to show the world it is safe to come to Mexico can be nothing more than token gestures, especially on the train, where we sat in a closed vehicle for several hours, with dozens of other people, none of whom wore masks.

I am reminded just now too of our entrance to the airport. As we emerged from the jetway a large flatscreen TV registered our body temperatures. We were normal, but wondered what mayhem would ensue if we had registered a fever!

Masked waiters became the norm quickly, and we learned to ignore it. But THEN! Saturday we sat down in Casa Fuerte for lunch, and our waiter's face was uncovered! We asked about it, and were told that they are required to wear the masks Tuesday-Friday, and Saturday, Sunday and Monday not required to! The waiter spun his finger by his head in the universal gesture of "crazy". We could only agree.

Poor Mexico! If it's not drug cartels scaring the bejeezus out of everybody, it's this silly flu. It is not flu season, and the masks would really only work if everyone wore them all the time. Some people are going to die of this. It's hard to blame the government for trying to do SOMETHING. But one can only shake one's head at the emptiness of the gesture.

Playing in the Parian

Last night, Saturday? Gee, I lose track of what day it is. Yes, yesterday was Saturday. A very busy day in Tlaquepaque. Shoppers and tourists flock into town and the party goes late into the night.

We got to the Parian late-ish, and found a corner where a mariachi group was already playing for a large table of patrons. We are starting to learn which of these little nooks of the Parian are better, and this one was not so good. It is called El Gato Negro if anyone wants to know. My drink was very weak, no one gave us any peanuts and Jon said the bathroom and kitchen were pretty disgusting. But we sat there anyway for a while and by and by our friends from the other night showed up, and after they played a couple tunes for the table next to us, Isaiah started looking longingly at my violin, and then asked: how much? We had previously discussed how much I had paid, so I was sort of confused by this question. It occured to me today that maybe he actually wanted to buy my violin! Anyway, that opened up the possibility for a conversation and we managed to negotiate for a couple of songs, with me playing.

We started with Jesusita en Chihuaha which I had learned just as we left Pasadena, and hadn't played with Raul's band at the Fiesta Mexicana. It was a big hit, with the guys in the band as well as with surrounding patrons. A crowd had gathered as we played and started chanting "otra! otra!" the Mexican equivalent of "encore!" So we played- and sang- Son de La Negra. It was SO fun to sing and play with these guys. I just was beside myself, but kept my head and played pretty well (thanks, Raul!).

After we finished that song, they had to move on. It was time for the stage show in the gazebo and all the mariachis hang it up, literally, for that show time.

After we sat for a while more and watched the folklorico again, we left. As we rounded the corner we saw Isaiah standing at the curb. We asked him where he was going and he said his group had to go play at a party. (This was 11:00 at night! It's a different world!) We talked a while about his life. He learned music- trumpet- first from his dad. Hs hero is Arturo Sandoval. Then he switched to violin, studied music in school, including college, took private lessons and now makes his living completely from music. He also said he has some students. His students study classical music with him.

He graciously posed for the picture at the top of this post and we said "hasta manana". I think he also said something about how nice my violin is and how easily it plays. I think that he wants me to sell it to him. Really. Guess I could give him Tom Metzler's web address...