Bits and pieces from a busy week (or two)

Monument to the Niños Héroes.

The two biggest recent happenings were a wonderful visit from our friends (Sarah, Adelaide, Mathilda, and Tom) and the start of the kids' school year. Given the impossibility of doing justice to either of these landmark events, we offer instead a selection of superficial observations and things about which we have photos or other electronic media to share.

First, the friends! We were really looking forward to showing them around, but I was thinking this morning that they showed us a lot of new things here, too. (Kale cakes...guayaba fruit...yum.) Add in Sarah's superior Spanish and previous experience working in Latin America...well, we learned a lot hosting them, and it was so fun.

We went to Palenque...

More than 1,000 years ago,
this was a swinging Mayan metropolis.
Now, más verde.

View of Pakal's tomb from inside the palace.

Divine portrait.

The ruins were beautiful and fascinating, but it's possible the kids preferred the hotel pool.

Ruins or pool? Okay...pool. 

A spasm of decadence
in advance of the 2012 Mayan apocalypse.

Apocalypse? Blammo!
Not going gentle into that good night.

The jungle around Palenque feels intensely alive. Both nights we heard howler monkeys. Someone told me it's the bones in their throat that make this sound possible. I may have misunderstood the guy, and anatomically "throat bones" may not be possible...but I can easily imagine this awe-inspring roar coming from deep inside a chamber of bones.

This link should take you to an audio clip of the howler monkeys we heard: HowlerMonkeyHowls


On the drive home from Palenque, we stopped at a river to swim with the devil fish.

These black "devil fish" are all over the bottom of the river.
Creepy but cool.

It's the rainy season, and the water was high. Glad the
kids are all strong swimmers....

Going native. (First step: getting all black and white.)

The Monday after we returned from Palenque, the kids started school at DICET (acronym for "Desarollo Integrale Con Excelencia Total" which just HAS to sound less fascist to native Spanish speakers and in truth seems like a great place).

First day of school 2012.

I don't know quite where to start talking about this aspect of the kids' experience; maybe I don't need to say much, since they are both covering the school beat pretty thoroughly on their own blogs. (Well, Wilhemina is covering it; Oscar is mostly discussing the food he's eating, as Susan noted).

But I do have to say that as the new Spanish words and sayings flow into (and out of) my brain every day, the phrase "Niños Héroes" keeps bobbing to the surface of my thoughts. Our niños  are handling this challenge -- new school, second language, unknown social scene -- heroically.

In Mexico there are numerous streets, school, monuments, etc. named after the Niños Héroes. As Señor Wikipedia explains:

The Niños Héroes (in English: Boy Heroes), also known as the Heroic Cadets or Boy Soldiers, 

were six Mexican teenage military cadets. These cadets died defending Mexico atMexico City's 

Chapultepec Castle (then serving as the Mexican Army's military academy) from invading U.S. forces 

in the 13 September 1847 Battle of Chapultepec, during theMexican–American War. 

One of the cadets, Juan Escutia, wrapped himself with the Mexican flag and jumped from the 

roof of the castle to keep it from falling into enemy hands.

Nobody's ready to wrap themselves in a flag anytime soon, and no one's going to die of social awkwardness or low comprehension or scholastic challenges here, but still. I feel really proud of the kids.

Misterios de nuestra vida mexicana

Misteriosa....

Here are a few of the mysteries we've enjoyed solving and not solving:

1. El misterio de la luz roja. Why, in the early evening, do small red lanterns appear outside certain homes? They're pretty, they cast a friendly glow against the creeping twilight...but what do they mean?

They mean: tamales for sale.

Our tutor, Memo, laughingly told us that when he first moved here from his home town, he, too was perplexed by these lanterns. Where he comes from, a red light indicates a house of ill repute. When a friend supplied the local meaning, Memo was taken aback his friend's vulgarity; tamale is a euphemism, too, it seems. So he was really amused when he got further clarification: No, not THAT kind of tamale!

2. El misterio del campanero. Who is that muchacho wearing an orange-colored vest--he who walks the streets at night ringing a bell? He looks so sad....

He is: the trash reaper (the grime reaper?).

Trash is picked up every night here in our neighborhood; you just take your plastic bags to the designated corner and the truck comes and picks them all up. But you have to time it right; no one wants the street dogs to rip into the trash bags, so you want to put it out just before the truck comes. How do you know when the truck is coming down your street? You hear the trash reaper, ringing his bell.

Memo said that everyone, everywhere in Chiapas (maybe in all Mexico?)  knows this sound and has been programmed to react immediately. He finds it funny that, every night at the sound of the bell, everyone starts scurrying around grabbing bags, finishing up a little sweeping, rushing to the street.....  As he points out, the truck will come again tomorrow; it's  not the last time ever. It's not the apocalypse, we agreed, not the Trash Rapture (el Rapto)! Still, every night the bell tolls for thee.

3. El misterio de la fregona. We have two string mops to clean our tile floors. I was excited to try them out; it looks cool when other people use them. But problems arose. The strings: tended to clump into two or three dirty dreadlocks. The coverage: limited to the narrow band of wetness I could achieve by dragging my clumped fregona-dreads across the tile. The rinsing: impossible to evaluate efficacy thereof (the bucket has a little strainer that you load the dreads into and push down on as if to make a dirty tea below). The corners of the floor: scarcely tickled by the flung strings of the fregona, despite repeated focused effort on my part. Will I ever learn to use this kind of mop competently? I really admire the way some people here can, with a flick of the wrist,  manage to shoot the mop strings into the corners of the floor the way a toad gets a fly: ZOT!

This is an unsolved mystery so far. Suggestions gladly accepted.

4. El misterio de la Casa del Misterio. Around the corner from our house is....the House of Mystery. This is a BIG house that has tape across all the gates---SEGURADO (secured)---and a police car out front 24/7. Why? What horrors have occurred there, what acts of unspeakable wrongdoing?

Possible flat tire, front left.

This is also an unsolved mystery. We're thinking of asking Memo to walk down there and (politely!) inquire of the policeman.

No es un sueño...

On Saturday morning, the TV announcer was screaming with joy:

"No es un sueño, México ganó el oro!"

We got up early and watched the first half of the Olympic gold medal soccer match (Mexico vs. Brazil) at home. At halftime we threw on our shoes and ran down the street to watch the rest of the match with our new best friends at the sports bar. The video shows us celebrating Mexico's second goal.

When Mexico won the match and the gold, they made history: the first Mexicans to win a gold medal in ANY Olympics, in ANY sport.

As time was called on the game, the Mexico coach -- very subdued gentleman in a dark suit, perfect helmet hair -- took two steps onto the field and sank to his knees. He had to be helped back to a standing position.

"It's not a dream, Mexico won the gold!"

Inside and outside

Small miracle: the van fit through the wooden gate-door thingy.
Steam rising from its worn tire treads,
it then rested in our beautiful courtyard.

Like a family of moles (if moles weren't mostly blind and mostly underground), we've dug ourselves into our new house here. We spend a lot of time at home, which is a novelty, and it feels relaxing, mole-cozy. Here are the sights.

The kitchen, already all ready for us. 

The living room,  as we begin to junk it up with our...junk.

Junkification...moving like a sinister vapor
through the kitchen, up the stairs.

Landspeed record for
bedroom customization.

Record holder and Hunger Games fan.

First things first in Oscar's room.

Scout, Beaver, and (in the background)
bottles of BOD aftershave
and showergel.

Nearing completion.

Satisfied inhabitant of a room that
comes with a patio-balcony.

  

The view from the street, as soon as they'd unpacked.

And blame Richard Scarry and Sesame Street: who among us is not susceptible to the charm of a colorful neighborhood with small shops dedicated to work that's...tangible? (I mean, no one is offering "business solutions" or wanting to maximize anything, so far as we understand.) We love walking around and taking it all in.  Here are the sights in our immediate neighborhood (as a formal exercise and to support the statements above, we've limited this tour to to a one-block radius from our house).

Start here: our house, low and orange, near left.

Nice family we met outside
one day.

La hija mayor.

Across the street is the Taller Leñateros: the paper-making workshop.

Beautiful and strange murals on the outside of the taller.

More mural.

A press, I guess.

Molded paper 
(your book can read you, too.)

                        

Huge mural on the back wall of the taller, on a different street. 

A store and small cafe around the corner, operated by or dedicated to 'Mely' (not his/her real name?).

Groceries, wine, liquor; check.

 Farther down the same street is the pediatrician's office.

The front door is a shower door, we discovered.

We have to check this out: the House of Bossa Nova, Jazz, and Soul Music; the House of the Sun and Love; and somehow also the Mayan World.

I like the legs on those hipsters. Crazy!

The colors of some of the houses are wonderful.

Have to be careful not to look directly at that blue
when you're walking past.

Más verde.

The painter's shop is right next door to the climbing gym.

We'll have to peek inside here some day.

The kids have given lots of ink to this in their blogs. 

Building strength, character, and hand calluses.

 This is right across the street from the climbing gym: calling all superñinos and princesas.

I really appreciate that this is not a "child development center"
nor a "preschool" --- it's INFANT PARKING.

 This house sells religious prints and ceramic señoras.

The Last Supper forms the backdrop here.

 Sometimes the stores have no signs (or just very small signs) outside, and they kind of sneak up on you: You're just walking past an open doorway, and POW!

POW!

The walls are expressive. Not that we always really get it.

Mezcal smoothies? Oh, I see now.

Right on.

 Now we've rounded the corner and are back on our own street. Our house is up on the far right in this picture.

We think "Vicky" is a tailor. 

 ...And right across the street is the tortilla shop! A foot-high stack costs less than $1 usd.

They are hiring! This would be a great place to work when it's cold and rainy.

We're loving it.