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...

Tequila Train

Friday was Tequila Train Day. We got up early and had breakfast as advised by the hotel staff to fortify us for a day of more tequila than any one person should be able to drink! We took a taxi to the train station where we were joined by hundreds of other folks, mostly women. The festivities began with a performance by a young group of mariachis who accompanied us through our day.

We were then separated into two lines, men and women, for a search of bags and a trip through a metal detector. There were probably 10 men for every one woman, and we had fun speculating why. But the men's line moved quickly through the security checkpoint, and if I had been running the thing I would have then opened the men's line for women, but no one asked me. I did strike up a conversation with two women in line speaking English, and when we emerged from the other side, there were our husbands also chatting with each other. We gringos do tend to find one another. They were from Palm Springs.

We boarded the train according to the color of the card they gave us to wear around our necks, and then we were off. We were dismayed to find ourselves riding backwards knee-to-knee with a grumpy dad and teenage son. But they switched with a young couple so they could ride backwards on the other side of the aisle with the wife and other teenage son.

We were still a little cramped, but soon got used to riding backwards, and this young couple was friendly and tried English as we tried our Spanish.

The first part of the trip took us through the back side of Guadalajara, passing homeless encampments and grafitti covered walls. But by and by the city gave way to the green of the countryside, and we began to relax and enjoy ourselves, especially as there were (masked- I will discuss the masks in a separate post) waiters coming around already giving shots of tequila, or soft drinks, or canned mixed drinks containing tequila. I figured I had better wait, because if I had started drinking then I would have just had to curl up for a nap the rest of the day.

During the trip, our young mariachis came through the car and played a few songs. They were really pretty good, and they, along with everyone working that day for us, worked their butts off to give us a terrific time. But more about that later.

Traveling by train is always a treat for me, because usually the train goes places cars don't go. In this case, we saw mountains and farmlands and herds of cows and sheep and goats, and kids waved to the train. And pretty soon everywhere we looked were fields of blue agave. Rolling hills covered with the spiky plants, alternating with corn fields.

After about an hour and a half, we arrived at our desitnation: the tiny village of Amititan, home to the Herradura Tequila factory. We disembarked and got onto buses, which took us to the factory. There we were split into English and Spanish speakers. Guess which one we were! Interesting that a boy and his mom from D.F. chose to be in the English speaking group. The boy is a fifth grader in a dual-immersion school in Mexico City and was very eager to speak English with us. He stuck to my side all day, and was a charming and smart kid. His English was only slightly better than my Spanish, so it made for some unclear communication along the way, but we had great fun with him.

Our tour started with a demonstration of how the agave plant is harvested by men called jimadors who chop the spiny part off till all that is left is a round pulpy pit, called the pina. This is then cooked and squeezed and left to ferment a few days, then set to ferment again a while and then distilled then put into wooden barrels to age 60-90 days (reposado) up to three years (anejo) or longer (seleccion suprema).

We saw a video explaining the history of this company, and after seeing it we understood why this brand is about the most expensive out there. Everything is very modern and up to date, but there is nothing artificial in this tequila. According to the video, most other tequila companies add yeast to speed up the fermentation, but Herradura does not. And I have to say, that it is worth it to have the best tequila if you are going to drink as much as we did that day! We did not feel bad the next day at all, and I am here to tell you that that is not always the case.

The walking tour also included the old factory which was built in 1870. It was very pretty with its old brick and copper pots and coils. Something like six generations of families have lived and worked there, though we were told that Jack Daniels owns the company now. What that means for the future of Herradura is hard to say, but they have a great product and I hope the Jack Daniels company recognizes the quality and will make a comittment to keeping it up.

After the tour, we sat at big tables in a shady enclosure and ate a delicious buffet lunch. More tequila. More food. More tequila. More food. We were also treated to a show featuring our mariachis, some dancers, some singers and a family that did rope tricks. Our tour guides even danced for us!

Finally it was time to get back on the train. As we climbed the platform we were greeted by a quartet of boys, maybe 7-12 years old, who had built musical instruments out of garden hose and car parts and were enthusiastically singing and playing to entertain the tourists. We gave them a coin, and I tried to grab some video, but things were moving too fast, and I didn't get but a second of it. This time we got to ride frontwards, and we had even more tequila. Mind you, these were tiny little cups, with probably less than an ounce each time. All you had to do was catch a waiter's eye, and you would have another little cup. The mariachis came through and played and posed for pictures (this started right from the beginning: these kids having their pictures taken every minute. I was surprised that they could keep any music going at all for the lurching train and the adoring crowd!) The train rattled on through a rainstorm, and finally we arrived back in Guadalajara, none the worse for the wear.

There were all together probably 10 or so waiters, at least 4 tour guides, and the musicians. There was also a sound crew, cooks, drivers, and who knows how many other people involved in making this a really fun and interesting trip. We were so impressed with how friendly they all were and how tirelessly they all worked. It was a very long day for them, and they took excellent care of us from start to finish. The trip cost us I think around 950 pesos each, and we think it was money and a day well spent.

Tonala Tianguis

Tonala- just a few minutes from Guadalajara- is known for its artisans and low prices. Thursdays and Sundays are tianguis days, market days, so Thursday morning we hopped on a bus (Tur- I think 10 pesos each) and got deposited into the craziest shopping frenzy we have ever seen. Both sides of the main highway into the town of Tonala were lined two-deep with vendors' stalls selling every imaginable thing, from ceramics and blown glass to candy and fruit. Furniture, cloth, large pieces of decorative art, jewelry, toys, everything you would expect to see in a Mexican artesian market was on display, and thousands of people crowded together to see, buy and sell.

As well as vendors, there are manufacturers. The prices for hand made everything you need for your home (we have now met two different groups of Americans outfitting Mexican homes with stuff from here) are, we are told, better than anywhere, and the variety and sheer quantity is astounding.

We enjoyed watching the glass blowers make beautiful pieces, and now I understand how there can be SO much "hand" blown glass for sale everywhere in Mexico. The process is broken down into steps and each craftsman is responsible for just one step. It is assembly-line production, but not mechanized in any way that we could see- just really efficient poetry in motion. The guys can crank out hundreds of pieces a day, and there are probably hundreds of shops just like this one in the country.

I think if we had gone to Tonala on a different day, we would have been able to see more. As it was, we were limited to the stream of humanity and goods that lined the highway, and after a few hours were "shopped out". We did buy some hand blown glasses. And we had a drink there that is unique to this region. It is a thick, sweet liquid made of corn, served with ice, and a glob of lime nieve (slushy ice) Very restorative and delicious, it is everywhere sold on the street.

Meeting Mariachis

Wednesday evening, I threw my violin case over my shoulder and we headed to the Parian again. The Aguilas were there, but they didn't seem to recognize us from the night before. Also they were being monopolized by a very sad group of young men, all drinking giant bowls of something alcoholic, and requesting song after song of cry-in-your-beer music. Had they just lost a compadre in a gang confrontation? Or were they just missing their girlfriends? Whatever the case, they held on to the musicians for a good hour or so at least.

Meanwhile we saw and heard another group of mariachis in another restaurant (remember, the only thing to separate them is the color of their table coverings) so went to sit by them, hoping for a chance to buy some songs and a chance to play. Monopolizing THEM was a couple- an older man and a girl too young and cheap looking to be his wife- and he bought song after song, impressing his date, we figured. She sang with them, and the couple danced, and we sat and waited.

One of the young violinists noticed my case and asked if I was a philharmonic player. His violin was really beautiful, with abalone inlays for the perfuling and a carved face of Beethoven on the back. About this time, the couple released the group, and the young violinist, whose name was Isaiah, or something close, asked if he could see my violin. He and his compadres were very interested in my violin, wanting to know where it came from and how much I paid for it. Isaiah played it a bit and then told me that the space between the strings over the bridge is too narrow. And for just a minute we played together the opening section of Son de La Negra, one of the three songs I know. Then he had to leave. The nightly folklorico show was about to start. He said I sure could play with his group. But we stayed till after 11:00 and the folklorico wasn't done yet, so we left. The next two nights were out, so tonight I will try again!

Day One

We are staying at the La Quinta Don Jose (http://www.quintadonjose.com/) here in Tlaquepaque and it is everything that the 200 plus reviews on tripadvisor say it is. We have one of the "villas", an apartment across the street and down half a block from the main hotel. Our little apartment is super clean and comfortable with a great shower, kitchenette, big TV with satellite, free Wi-Fi and continental breakfast included. The help speak English and Salvador the barkeep makes a dandy mojito. There is a placid fountain gurgling in the courtyard beside the pool and cages of canaries and parakeets singing their hearts out for the guests. Even though our apartment is on a city street corner, it is very quiet.

Yesterday we had a terrific lunch at the Adobe restaurant and were treated like old friends by Fernando, our host. The food was fast and delicious, and the service top notch.

Last night, after a bit of a siesta, we toddled back to the Parian, just a block away, to hear mariachis and take in the evening. On the way there we stopped in the plaza to enjoy the cool evening air and the families out with children. This is one of my favorite aspects of Mexican culture. The families come out as the day cools. Children play, sometimes with the latest silly toy, or as superheros or just running. Adults sit and chat, boys and girls check each other out, street vendors sell, and sing and make a puppet show.

Finally moving on to the Parian, we were greeted by waiters eagerly soliciting our business. As in other Mexican restaurant districts, there are many, nearly identical businesses competing for the tourist dollar. There isn't much to distinguish them from one another except the color of the tablecloths or a critical mass of other guests, suggesting this one might be better than that one. We chose a table near to a performing group of mariachis and ordered a couple of beers. Then we waited for some musician to ask us if we wanted them to play.

The Parian is a lovely place, surrounded on all sides with arched colonades, and with a gazebo in the center. There are jacaranda trees growing tall, and it must be really something when they are all in bloom. But here is a word to the wise: Either sit under the building's shelter or out where the branches are too small to support pigeons. I got pooped on at least 4 times, and Jon got hit at least once. Fortunately we were not eating, or it would have been impossible. As it was, the skirt I was planning to wear at least once more before sending it to the laundry was ruined for the evening.

A violinist from Mariachi los Aguilas approached us and asked us if we would like some music. Jon is our negotiator and I asked for the three songs I know. One of those is a "potpouree" called 'Viva Veracruz" and has 3 or 4 songs, depending on who's counting. So we got that plus 2 more songs for 500 pesos, which translates to almost 5o$ US. We always allow for this as part of our trip expenditure, so it was acceptable. We have learned that mariachis want about 10$ US per song, so this was actually a bargain, though it sounds like a lot of money. Our group had 3 violins, which- even at that- were hard to hear over the trumpets. But they played our three requests and I recorded them. They were uneasy about my recording until I told them it was for me, that I am a student of mariachi music and want to learn. We talked for a while with one of the violinists and I asked if I could play with them tonight. He said "of course!" and so I will take my violin there tonight and look for them.

Today we took the 647 bus to Centro Historico in Guadalajara and saw the catedral, the palacio gobierno and the Cabanas Centro Cultural, where the three presidents of North America met for a conference earlier this week. We saw murals of Orozco, fantastic colonial buildings and took in the sights and sounds of Mexico's second largest city. We also visited the enormous Mercado Libertad, where one can buy anything from a laptop to sugar cane juice, the latter of which we had and loved.

Everywhere there are coaches with a horse and driver who will take you on an hour long tour of the main points of interest in the district. We did this, just because it looked like something we should do as tourists, and because Jon thought I would like it, being a girl and all, and girls like stuff like that. It was a nice way to see the sights, slower than a car, and with open air, and faster and easier on the feet than walking.

We took a taxi back to Tlaquepaque for about 6$US, and on the way to have lunch stopped into a Cajero Automatico at the Bancomer on our corner. The ATMS always give money in big bills, and no one ever can change these big bills in the shops, so Jon thought we should get change from a teller. We waited our turn, and got 3000 pesos broken into 100 pesos bills, and as Jon was handing me the money to keep in my purse, he realized he didn't have his ATM card.

After Jon searched all his pockets I lobbied for going straight back to the hotel so I could call the bank and cancel the card before someone had a holiday with it. Meanwhile, Jon thought maybe we should tell someone in the bank, in case someone turned it it. A longshot, I thought.

We approached a man who sat at a desk highlighting lines of print on piles of documents he had in a stack of manila folders before him. He listened to Jon explain (In Spanish, yay Jon! ) what had happened and asked him for ID. Jon gave him his driver's license and the man took it to the teller, who then went to open the ATM from the back. It turns out that if you don't take your card out of one of these machines, after two minutes, the machine sucks your card in, and therefore it can be retrieved with no problem! We were absolutely dumbstruck by this and thanked our helper profusely. We laughed all the way to lunch!

The funny thing about this is that earlier I had been remarking that Mexico is so easy for us now, especially since Jon is getting so good at Spanish, that maybe we need to push our comfort zone into other parts of Latin America. We used to give ourselves courage for new things by saying that what doesn't kill us will make a good story. Well we got ourselves a good story today!

Guadalajara, here we come!

This is our 4th summer trip to Mexico to immerse ourselves in culture, music, food, history, anthropology. Our previous trips were to the west coast and the state of Colima, and two trips to the east coast and the state of Veracruz. There is so much to say about each of these previous trips, but I want to start this blog posting with our 2009 trip to Guadalajara. We will be staying in the embedded suburb of Tlaquepaque, wherein we hope to find mariachi music a-plenty.

This is the first time we will have a computer along, and recording devices for music, so I plan to share and post some of the best music we find.

Our trips have always followed some temptation of local, live music. In Colima, we planned our trip around a trip to the smaller town of Comala, where, we were told, we would find botaneros serving up tapas and music for not much money. In Veracruz, we planned to stay at the Plaza de las Armas, where we would hear jarocho music, Carribean sounds, and the everpresent danzon.

Last year our Veracruz trip started in Mexico City where we spent one evening chasing mariachis in Plaza Garibaldi. This is the only disappointment we have had: Garibaldi is supposed to be the de facto capital of DF mariachi culture and music. There are MANY musicians crowding for attention there, but we heard none we like as well as our own favorite group (Mariachi San Antonio) here in Pasadena, CA.

So this year we are going to the home of mariachi:Guadalajara. I am taking a violin, and armed with three songs, I will attempt to get some experience playing on the street with real musicians. We have been warned: as in DF, we are likely to find that the best mariachis are STILL those who have made careers of it in the US. The money is better and those who can go north to make a real living. I figure there are plenty of guys who have family in Mexico and make a good enough living there that the risk of leaving isn't really worth it.
So maybe there are good musicians, willing to let me sit in- me a middle-aged gringa who has studied her butt off to learn these three songs.