the beginning of #46

I have been remiss in keeping my faithful reader(s) up to date on the Tlaquepaque celebration. Here, in one place, are two days' worth of observations, comments, photos, and travel ramblings. It's going to be a long read so get a glass of wine, get comfortable and come along for the ride.

Thursday morning, the actual Day of Celebration of #45 we decided to stay in town and not brave the mobs up in Tonalá. Been there, done that, bought that, seen that. We thought Friday might be much more civilized and less crowded. On the schedule was a trip to the El Refugio ceramic and art museum, the Museum of Ceramics, more lamp searching, and a celebratory luncheon somewhere. I was opting for a taxi ride into Guadalajara to the Café Coyote, but as you will learn as you read on, that option was not on the table. And I'm not sorry.


First stop was the El Refugio, some 6 or 8 blocks from the Casa de las Flores. It is a huge, block-square cluster of buildings that have been a hospital, a convent, an abandoned wreck, and is now a museum-convention center-gallery-civic building. The original building, constructed like a typical hacienda was founded by a local priest as a hospital for the local people, most of whom were Indians. This effort took longer that anticipated. Ten years later the building was completed and served as a hospital for over 100 years. Then it was turned into a convent which lasted over 50 years, until that Prince of Darkness, Plutarco Elias Calles, was elected president in the 1920's and declared war on the Catholic church. He lost but managed to do a great deal of damage. He shut down all the convents and monasteries he could find. He was hugely unpopular and hated.

Desviación
As is true in every country, boys born during the administration of presidents, prime ministers, and other functionaries are named after such worthies. It has been reported that there was a spate of boys named Barak right after the election. In Mexico, you'll find various Carloses, Benitoes, and of course, Vicentes. Even a few Venustianos and Lazaroses. But I have never met a Plutarco!
Fin de deviación.

The main auditorium houses the "history of ceramics" throughout the country. No photos allowed. But then we wandered through the rest of the building, and my, what a gorgeous place.

There are four "squares" making a larger square, each with its own garden in the middle.


Along each corridor are tiny rooms ~ there are a total of 700 of them ~ just large enough for either a hospital bed or a nun's cot. Each opens onto the corridor and the little garden; it would cure you or inspire you, depending on why you were there.

After a couple of hours we wandered through some of the neighborhoods of Tlaquepaque. The houses and their paint-jobs were reminiscent of San Miguel.

We walked down to the ceramics museum. Most of what they are showing is from ceramic artists from the Tlaquepaque/Guadalajara area. It's varied, colorful, detailed, and a marvel of artistic invention. I think this pot and lid piece was my favorite.


Now it was time for the anniversary lunch. We ended up at El Adobe, a place we have seen for years but never tried. It was spectacular! It is in the back of a very pricey furniture/home accessories store although you can get to it by a side door. The Patient had checked out the menu on Wednesday while I was browsing the (extravagantly priced) lamps. But, as he so sweetly said, "Nothing it too good for you" so we went in and, oh my! What a treat.

With Tanya Liberdad crooning "Sombras, Nada Mas", followed by "Gracias a la Vida" in the background, it was a perfect place to celebrate the occasion. I ordered crab quesadillas and a green salad. What I got bore no resemblance to traditional quesadillas in the least. Instead, there were four little puff pastry pillows filled with sweet, succulent crab. I would have taken a picture first but I fell on these little beauties before I could even think about getting out my camera. But I did manage to get a picture of this gorgeous salad.

The ceiling of this restaurant is hung with pierced metal 3-D stars that I would give anything to be able to hang around my palapa down here. But in about 15 minutes they would turn into rusted wrecks. The waiter saw me eying them and, bless him, turned on the lights so I could get the full effect.

It's absolutely beautiful. We need to go back at night for dinner and look at the restaurant lit only by these lights. But I was mighty grateful to see them like this.

After lunch we strolled back along Independencia, the main pedestrian walkway in the shopping district. We went back to the store where we had seen the pots that we thought might be made into lamps and decided that we were probably not going to find anything better (we didn't) and bought two of them. I will get in touch with Gustavo, the Cuyutlán resident electrical genius, and turn them over to him to make lamps.

Thursday night we did not go out to dine. Instead, Stan had baked a wonderful chocolate cake that we christened "Dinner" and called it a night.

The next morning we feasted on Stan's chiles rellenos for breakfast. In a former life Stan worked at Alice Waters' restaurant, Chez Panisse, in Berkeley. It has served him, and his guests, well. Then we headed off to Tonalá by bus. I had a short shopping list and was determined to stick to it. First stop, the zocolo, the central square in front of the cathedral.

Then we walked around the indoor market. First I saw the bread lady with her big canastas of pan, five or six different varieties.


Not the bollios or talera limitations we have here. Cheese bread, little batards that might have been sourdough, and something very crispy and fragrant with herbs. Then around the corner was the vegetable stand with a big pile of chopped nopales, chiles, cebollos, and some other green vegetable I didn't recognize. You buy this mixture by the kilo in a plastic bag. What you do with it after that I don't know. The basket of tiny green droplets are baby tomatilloes. The other green is nopales leaves.


Down the way was the carneceria with all his wares hung out for inspection. He was delighted to get his picture taken, too.


At least, at first he was. Then he thought better of it. But by then it was too late. Chorizo sausages, hunks of pork, tongue, and a few mystery meats hung on hooks. I didn't buy anything but it all looked good.

Desviación #2:
I try to be very careful about who or what I take a picture of, especially "who." These folks are just going about their daily routines. What do I find so exotic and snap-worthy about selling beautiful bread or chopping vegetables? Children are usually easy; they are happy to smile and mug for the camera. Adults, on the other hand, can get miffed in a hurry. But sometimes they, too, will smile and be proud of their pile of tomatoes or display of fabric or pottery. You never know.
Fin de desviación #2.

We decided, after getting all our purchases ~ four wine glasses for Chuy's birthday gift, four hurricane lamp covers for outdoor candles, some artificial greenery for outdoor vases, a dozen tiny salt dishes for tea lights ~ we would go to our favorite restaurant, El Rincon del Sol for a beer. Stan had fed us such a wonderful breakfast that lunch was out of the question.


We happened on this place many years ago, thanks to a taxi driver. We were staying in Guadalajara on that trip. We had heard about the glories of Tonalá and made the trip out. The driver pointed out the restaurant as we sped by, gave us a flyer (his cousin is probably the owner!), and the the deal was sealed. We've been back there every time for lunch. But this time it was drinks only. It's still the same; same menu, same layout, same music. But nice.

We caught a taxi home, spent the afternoon reading,then went across the street to Victoria's, a local cenaduria, open for dinner (or supper) only. During the day you would never know this place existed. It is in Victoria's house. In the evening she and her family haul out onto the sidewalk all the cooking equipment; deep fat fryer, tanks of gas, pots, pans, plus tables and chairs for sidewalk diners. They cook up some really delicious food; posole, enchiladas, pollo, tacos, all fresh, well made, nicely seasoned. For $40 pesos (about $3) we had a delicious and filling meal. Then back to Stan's, a cup of tea in the garden, and it's lights out. Home in the morning.

Desviación #3:
Entrepreneurship in Mexico is alive and well. A common sight in residential areas are tienditas (little stores) set out in front of a house, doing a brisk business in food, drinks, sometimes vegetables and fruits, or candy and other snacks. The fresh food stands are the hardest to by-pass. You can find every sort of taco imaginable ~ beef, pork, chicken, cheese, potato ~ plus wonderful tortas, sandwiches made with talera buns filled with shredded beef or pork, tomatoes, lettuce, radishes, all topped with salsa and hot sauce. Then at night, everything gets packed up and moved back indoors and the tiendita and all evidence thereof disappears until the next day.
Fin de desviación #3

I am too tired after all of this (and you probably are, too) to give you a tour of Stan's B&B. I promise I will do it tomorrow. Needles to say, we had a lovely three days. It has become a tradition to spend our anniversary there. I trust we'll go back next year.

the medical report on Ike

On Tuesday, Ike the Dog went into the vet hospital for a little "procedure" that will, in effect, change his life. According the reports, he came through the surgery well, is home and resting comfortably.


His neighborhood friends Gemma, Molly, Oscar, Snickers and Sheriff have all been told to keep away for the week. He has been told that he may not go out and play. He's not happy about this but will tolerate the confinement. Now whether his caretakers Mike and Cait will is another question.

dispatch from Tlaquepaque

The drive from Cuyutlán to Guadalajara takes 2 1/2 hours, even though it is only about 100 miles. Most of it is on a toll road, 4 lanes, moderately heavy traffic, and it goes quickly. Thirty-five miles of this road are, however, 2 lanes and some or all of it is always under construction. Including today. And every idler and fool was on the road so it took us an extra hour to get here. When we drove this road in the opposite direction in December the hills were green and lush; now they are a dull brown and dried out. But there is still an interesting variety of landscape to gaze at in passing. I couldn't see the volcanoes when we were in Colima; by the time we got to Cuidad Guzman, the half-way point, the air was clear and the two mountains were clearly visible. The agave has is its usual dusty blue-grey. There are huge fields of some sort of reed used in making furniture and window blinds, with its feathery white stalks, like Cleopatra's fans. Much of the flat parts look like Nevada or Idaho with neatly marked irrigated fields growing unidentifiable crops. The jacaranda are not yet out but we did spy four or five brilliant yellow primavera trees. In December the plastic greenhouse covers were over the bean crops. Today the bushy plants were open to the warm sun and we could see their little white blossoms. There is a many- mile-square area that resembles the Bonneville Salt Flats. In fact, I think it was a lake, ringed by mountains. Small towns are sprinkles around what was most likely the lake's shoreline. There are still some parts that are marshy and reedy. But most is flat, dusty and unarable, staked out with signs reading "¡Tolveneros! Precaution!" Then you hit the suburbs of Guadalajara and the big outlet mall, the Sol beer bottling plant, the new Mega market complex (right next to the Wal-Mart and Sam's Club), light industry, the University of Guadalajara, and all the other usual blights on an urban landscape. By this time the traffic was fierce and we were again slowed down. But we finally turned off to Tlaquepaque and gave a collective sigh of relief that we had made it.

The Casa de las Flores is as funky, colorful, and eye-popping as usual. We haven't been here for three years and although the physical plant hasn't changed, the decor is always a movable feast. I will take a picture-stroll through the place tomorrow. We settled into our usual room (ask for #6; best view of the garden), chatted up our hosts Stan and Jose, and decided it was time for comida. We walked down into the town, a couple of blocks away, and decided on this place, a new one for us.


Those of you who are Carlos Castaneda fans will recognize the name. "Tonal" is everything that ever was, is or ever will be. "Nahual" is everything else. I ordered tampequeña, a kind of grilled steak. Absolutely the best piece of beef I've EVER had in Mexico. If you let your eye fall across the grazing cattle as you drive through Mexico you can understand why beef is so bad. These poor critters graze on stubble; no hay or grass or kibble or whatever it is that cattle eat to make them fat and tasty!


There are wonderful things to look at on the walls; masks, paintings, retalbos, tapestries, and little niches and icons stuck here and there. The ceilings are high, and the feeling is of light and air and color everywhere.

After lunch we wandered down to the square and poked around in the shops. Note the blue sky!


The last time we were here the Christmas creche was still set up in this bandstand, with life-sized statues of people and animals. The only jarring addition was a baby who looked about 4 years old. This year it has already been dismantled. But I love this gazebo. It is reminiscent of those found in the central jardins in cities, towns and villages throughout Mexico.

I am not sure what's on the program for tomorrow, the actual anniversary date. We'll either go out to Tonalá for a day of shopping or we'll go into Guadalajara for comida and some swanky restaurant. The great lamp hunt is officially on; we found a couple of great urns today that could be turned into lamps if we can't find anything else. But we're holding out for a Tonalá visit before deciding. That little town, about 15 minutes from here, is like one gigantic flea market, 24/7. Thursday and Sunday are the actual "market" days, when the streets are clogged with vendors selling every imaginable art, craft, jimcrack, doo-dad, piece of essential junk imaginable. But if we go on Friday it will be much quieter and easier to get around. We'll decide in the morning.

Whatever we do, it's just nice to be here. Weather is beautiful; warm, clear blue skies, no humidity, no mosquitoes. A welcome change.

the purple wall

Fernando painted my new purple wall first thing this morning. Every time I look at it I am reminded of our gorgeous wisteria vines that will be blooming at home just about now.


The original color of the house was pale Mediterranean peach. Or at least most of the house was that color. We had some patching to do, went to the old paint store for more and came home with something that was baby-girl-nursery pink. But now it's all one color.


These photos just don' t do the color justice. I've snapped it from every angle in every light and I still can't get it right. You'll just have to trust me that's it's a heavenly pale violet. Well, think wisteria! I do.

As for the lighter tan walls, they are not as much lighter than the café color. There isn't as much difference that I can see. I didn't want a dark color on the interior walls. I figured that would make the corridors and terrazzo too dark. We'll see when it is finished and dry. Right now the only wallspainted in the new color are up on the 3rd floor and it's so bright it's hard to see the difference. Hey! If it's too dark I can always get the lightest shade in this series and repaint next year!

≠≠

The literary world has lost another light with the death of John Updike. I think the first thing of his I ever read was "Couples." I still remember, rightly or not, the scene where the hero is commenting about the mud oozing up between the toes of his intended seducee. I thought at the time, and still think, that is a graphic and sexually charged image!

Meanwhile, it's off to the Casa de las Flores for a few days. I hope Stan has WiFi so I can send you some photos of this charming hide-away.

the old and the new

I think I have put up this photo of the front of the house in its old color. But just as a refresher, here it is.

Here it is in its new color.

Likewise, here's a picture of the back before painting . . .

Half done . .

Finished (except for putting the Tejas back on the overhangs that have to be rebuilt, putting the big plants back on the landing where they belong, and folding up and storing the ladders!)


What's left? The "interior" exterior walls, those walls between the two wings of the house that are not technically "indoors." Fernando will get to those on Tuesday and hopes to be all done on Wednesday. We are heading up to Guadalajara and Tlaquepaque Wednesday morning for three days. It will be all put back together by the time we get back on Saturday.

los nuevos colores de mi casa

Marie has given the new colors her approval. Pictures tomorrow.

Tomorrow's post-massage opera from the Met: Gluck's "Orfeo ed Euridice." All girl cast, boy's parts and all.

Still in a state of disbelief over Tuesday's occasion. This will probably last for months. Feels good so that's OK. Better than 8 years of depression.

san fransico knows how to do it

All the Bush Street signs were changed, at least for today. I left my heart. . . etc.

Hail to the Chief

Marie and I joined Charlotte for this mornings historic festivities. We three represented the Democratic Party in Cuyutlán. Most everyone else is either Canadian or members of that other party.

The pomp, the majesty, the ritual of it all. I laughed, I cried, I squealed with joy and delight. Yo Yo Ma, smiling broadly and having a high time of it, that right-wing religious pimp, Rick Warren (who managed to do OK and not offend me out of the room), the flub of Roberts' administration of the oath (and the President's attempt to salvage the moment), the long shots down the Reflection Pool of 2,000,000 joyous people who came to witness history, and particularly the Reverend Joseph Lowery, who gave a rousing benediction that made the President smile. And the new President's speech. I was deeply moved and exhilarated. Just think! We have a President who can string two sentences together, doesn't drop his "ing"s, and doesn't even know how to smirk. For me, that would be enough. Instead, we get all of that and much, much more. I was also impressed by the Obama's and Biden's gracious farewell to the Cheneys and Bushs as they saw them off to their new lives. That was a first. Just one of many.

Now the work begins. My prayers will be with him every day. Be strong, be wise, be safe.

farewell to Andrew Wyeth, and others

Three "names" died this past week: Ricardo Montalban, John Mortimer (and thus Rumpole) and Andrew Wyeth. This is a beautiful gallery of his work.

Tomorrow's the big day! Marie and I are taking brunch down to Charlotte's where we will watch three hours of American history in the making.

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it wasn't Puccini . . .

Today was one of the warmest, prettiest days since we've been here. Perfect laundry day: on by nine, hung in the drying yard by 10, folded and stored by noon! Even the pool at Jack's had warmed up to 84º plus.

After my (weekly!) massage I tuned in to the Met's production of "Dr. Atomic." As I said above, it wasn't Puccini. I gave up after only half an hour. Instead, I dove into my iTunes library and came up with "Turandot" with Joan Sutherland and Luciano. Now that's Puccini!

Fernando and his mozo finished up the week's work at 1 PM this afternoon. Next week begins the painting. The materials will be ready for pick up on Monday morning ~ after the market. He's starding on the dark color ~ Cocoon ~ in the back. Then the overhang structure gets rebuilt. Then the rest of the painting.

Off to a dinner party tonight; it's Luly's birthday. There will be lots of folks, good food, live music, dancing. The Patient and I will probably be tucked up here by 10 PM while the rest keep at it far into the night. Ah, the joys (and wisdom) of old age.

New book: "Blue Hearts" by Jim Lehrer. Something light for the weekend.

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adios to the Tejas

These tile roofed structures are called Tejas (Texas) for some reason. I really don't know why. Probably based on someone's idea that all roofs in Texas are tiled? When we moved in the two structures did not exist. Instead, the back cement patios were uncovered and very hot. Fernando built the overhangs; they seemed like a good idea at the time. Little did we know that they would become comfy condos for iguanas. When Fernando painted the house 5 years ago he ripped off all the tiles so he could use the platform as a base for his ladders. The iguanas split for awhile. But they were soon back and brought their friends with them. You probably think that they are part of the tropical ambiance. They are pests. They eat everything that even thinks about growing in the garden. They especially love blossoms on anything and, a real treat are hibiscus blooms. They are NOT cute. And they poop all over the patios. So this time we are having the Tejas rebuilt to prevent any squatters.


First he pulled off all the tiles (they're laid one on the other. One up, one down. The only anchor is at the top). His mozo stands down on the patio and catches the tiles as Fernando tosses them off the roof. Then they're neatly stacked for reuse. We've only lost half a dozen so far and they were already cracked or broken. Next he will remove the platform they have rested on that provides a nice floor for the critters. Then he will build a sort of lattice on which to lay the overlapping tiles. My concern is that those pesky iguanas will scuttle into the tunnels made by the tiles. I suspect, however, that only the juveniles can do that; there will be no room to turn around and get out.


All of this ~ destruction, reconstruction, painting, hauling up and down three flights of stairs, tossing and stacking ~ is done with such speed, good humor and skill that it is a real pleasure to watch them. And to listen to their low volume chatter and laughter. Fernando is a very good maestro, except with his son. He gets too impatient. I miss having Fernandillo here; he's an excellent painter. But he has a full-time job as an abenillo at the turtle farm down in the colonia.

Ah fathers and sons. Nothing like mothers and daughters. No. Never!

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days of destruction

Fernando and Regís got right to work yesterday demolishing walls and columns that had cracked due simply to life at the beach. Salt, moisture . . . not construction's best friends. First they shatter the concrete that has gotten "soft" due to the moisture. You can see the rebar beneath.


Next Fernando paints the exposed rebar and surrounding concrete and brick with some magic potion called fin salitre or "end of salt." Ha! In your dreams. It is supposed to act as a barrier to further salt/moisture. After that dries he slaps one layer of cement on the post, lets it dry, slaps up a second layer, etc., until he has it the same size as the original pillar. Then he puts a wooden frame around the pillar, held in place by big pieces of rebar cut and bent to exactly the size of the pillar. That dries, he removes the frame, and there you have it.


The area around the door to the upstairs half-bath was badly cracked and at first we thought the entire door frame was going to have to be replaced. But after it was all chipped away we could see that the damage was only on one side.


That little blue door to the right is the closet for the water heater - all 40 liters worth. This morning Fernando had it all patched up. The paint swatch to the left of the wooden door is the new and final color for that wall. Click on the photo to enlarge. It's really not as "neon" as it looks!


The next step will be to smooth a layer of fine white cement over all the gray stuff. After that dries, it will be time to begin the actual painting, probably next week some time. We hope to have the whole project done by the end of the month. This house is about to celebrate its 20th birthday and given its history ~ survivor of three earthquakes, including the big one in 2003, and the day-in-day-out assault of salt air ~ it's in pretty good shape. But diligent maintenance is the watchword. You can walk through town and see houses that have been allowed to fall into unsalvageable disrepair and have ultimately been abandoned. They are just too far gone.

Last night was the weekly gathering of the Cuyutlán Ladies Chisme and Domino Society. I won at my table. My take will buy me a couple of beers at Dago's.

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history in the (re)making

If you've got 45 minutes to review the history of the last eight years, watch this. It's a real mind blower. Where was this worthy while it was all going on?

Fernando and his mozo, Regís, his cousin, showed up bright and early this morning to get back to work. They tore up more walls on the 3rd floor and then slapped on a new layer of cement. They'll be back tomorrow for more.

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o tropical moon . . .

I am experimenting with my camera to get better photos of night scenes. This wasn't all that good, but it's the best I could do. Last night was a mild, warm evening with this big, lemon-y full moon hanging in the sky. Makes one glad to be alive, and be here.

Treat at today's market; beautiful chard (acelgas). I bought a big bunch for about 50¢, split it with Marie, and sautéd it for dinner with lots of garlic. I swooned.

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it was fascination . . .

Around 8:30 last night all hell broke loose at the El Faro, a falling-down fire-trap dive on the beach, just across the street from our house. (You can see a corner of our house in the upper left corner of this photo.) I was reading quietly in the living room when suddenly loud music split the quiet of the night. And I mean L-O-U-D. I looked out across the street; no crowds, no cars, no hint as to what this was all about. It was a cinch that the evening's reading was over so I doodled around on the computer for awhile and then decided I'd try to sleep. Big mistake. Starting at 9 PM the song was "Fascination." This song played on a continual loop for more than an hour. Who is waltzing to this drek? Nobody. On and on and on. Around 10:30 the really bad mariachi music started and someone started singing. This particular crooner was tone deaf. I think he's the same gent who insists on singing at the disco during the Easter madness. Had the El Faro turned into a Mexican karioke bar? With no patrons? I checked with neighbors this morning and nobody could figure out what was going on last night. Whatever it was it was finally shut down at 3 AM. Siesta's looking mighty good for this afternoon.

Tonight is the luna llena. Don't miss it.

9 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error

here's what i missed

This is Magda's Act 1 aria, probably the most famous piece of "La Rondine", sung by Teresa Stratas. (You can also hear it sung by Renee Fleming, Anna Moffo and others on the YouTube site.) The internet was down when the opera came on so I missed it. I finally got back on line an hour into the performance, but the rest was superb.


Next week is Dr. Atomic, the new opera about J. Robert Oppenheimer and the development of the atomic bomb at the Manhattan Project. Great cast of characters: Oppenheimer, Edward Teller, Leslie Groves, among others. Sure to be a hit. No pun intended.

So, you ask, what did you do with the coleslaw that wasn't edible? I made a black bean salad with diced onion, tomato and cilantro. I mixed in the slaw. Delicious. The crunch of cabbage with the heat of bean salad. As for the fish, I'll either make a fish stew, adding some shrimp, or toss it. I hate to waste food but this stuff was really bad.

10 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error

international meal

Menu: Mexican tacos de pescado, German cole slaw (sort of), Chilean wine.

The Patient loves fish tacos. I bought two small Pargo filetes at the pescadoria this morning. Then we nipped over to the Presidencia to pay the taxes and water for 2009 = $230 US, up about 7% from last year.

At the indoor market I bought a half head of cabbage. My daughter Alex makes THE best cole slaw ever. At least for my taste. It's crunchy, flavorful and tart. I don't like creamy, sweet dressing on my slaw, although the Patient prefers this type. I asked her for the recipe and here it is:

shredded celery, onion, carrot, cabbage
celery seeds
mayo, Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar

Combine, let sit several hours or overnight.

I haven't omitted measurements; she didn't send any. Here's what I used:

1/2 white cabbage (I would use half red, half white if I could find red)
1 large stalk celery
1/2 medium onion
1 large carrot
2 T caraway seeds (don't have and can't get celery seeds)
2 T mayo
2 T mustard
1/2 cup vinegar

I also added 1/2 medium jicama, shredded


The Patient went up to the Rube Goldberg tortillarilla and brought home a quarter kilo ~ about 14 tortillas.


I sautéd the fish, put them on warmed up tortillas, and along with the slaw we called it dinner.


Restaurant review: the fish was tough and the slaw was not sweet enough for the Patient. Next week's fish will come from Dago's father-in-law's fish market. I should know better than to buy my fish anywhere else than where Dago buys his. As for the slaw, the Patient wants to add a bit of sugar to the mix and see what happens. It can't hurt!

This afternoon we drove up to the airport in Manzanillo to drop of two gringas who had been vacationing here for three weeks. On the way home we stopped in Santiago at an artisania shop to look for a new lamp. My most favorite lamp got broken when the Patient was carrying it upstairs by the harp and the whole mechanism came loose. No luck. We'll look up in Tlaquepaque when we're there at the end of the month.

Tomorrow's opera is another glorious Puccini offering, La Rondine.

After my 11 AM massage I will drag my relaxed body upstairs to wallow in this beautiful musical offering. In case you miss it, here's the story: bad girl meets good boy (see above). He tries to convince her to be good. She tries. She fails. She returns to her bad ways with a bad boy. In between is some truly sublime music.

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encountering a stall

There seem to be no mozos available to help Fernando on our painting project. He thought his sobrino (cousin) was going to be available beginning today ~ yesterday being a wash ~ but apparently not. No mozo. Maybe tomorrow?

But yesterday was not a complete wash. We went into Tecoman to pay our tourist visas at the bank. Every time we do this it is like reinventing the wheel. These folks had never seen such a transaction and so four tellers were gathered around the only chap who seemed to know what to do. I mean, come on people. We do this every year at this bank and we can't be the only folks here on a tourist visa. In the past they have run it through the machine, stamped and signed it, taken our money and off we go. This year we are given yet another piece of paper to attach to the originals (two pieces this year instead of one). I think the President's brother must be in the paper mill business.

Then we made yet another trip to Prisa, the paint store for yet another shade of paint. I decided that the purple (Sweet Lilac) that I chose for the terrazza wall and posted a couple of days ago is simply too dark. It overwhelms the more pastel tan shade of the house. Wrong intensity. So I bought another, lighter, more pastel shade: Twilight Chimes. (Who thinks up these names?) I have taken a couple of pictures of it but it looks too blue; it's a lovely pale violet. I'll try in another light and see if I can get a more true hue. If I were willing to wrestle with Photo Shop maybe I could recolor it. I'm not.

Tomorrow we are off to Armeria to pay our taxes and annual water bill: total for two lots and water for one house will be about $250. Can't beat it.

I was skeptical of the appointment of Leon Panetta for CIA director. I've changed my mind. He's just the guy to keep those spooks from knifing the new President in the back.

12 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error

the construction zone

Fernando arrived at 8 o'clock this morning to begin the repairing and painting of the house. He lugged along all the tools (las herramientas) of his trade, including ladders, trowels, mallets to tap-tap-tap on all the walls to find the hollow sections that have to be torn out and re-cemented, and the big sifting screen he uses when mixing up the cement. He set right to work on the 3rd floor. I could hear chunks of old wall fall on the floor. Pretty soon he came downstairs carrying a five gallon bucket full of debris which he emptied in the our vacant lot next door. Then back up for more. And back down again. And so on . . .


By the time he left for desayuno at 10 AM, this is what had befallen the wall. The original brick work and the rebar are now exposed. He'll layer in two or three coats of cement, let it dry, then paint it over with something called sellador that helps keep the moisture and salt out of the structure. But as we say here at the beach, rust and damp never sleep. He returned at 11 and did it all over again. By noon, his mozo had not shown up to help so he pitched it in. It's too time-consuming and difficult for one person to do this work. And besides, today is the last official day of the Christmas holiday and he wanted to be at home with his family. Tres Reyes is the traditional gift-giving-opening day for Mexican families who then sit down to a festive meal. But he'll be back tomorrow, I hope with a mozo or else this project is going to take a very long time.

14 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error

another first

Our first surfer president.

17 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error

the joys of saturday

First thing this morning Neighbor Nelson rang the bell to (a) announce his and Carol's arrival for the season, and (b) to deliver my undies left behind in November. I am now awash in lingerie.

After that the Patient went up town to buy some shredded beef tacos from El Gordo, the chap who is only here on Saturday mornings. They are well worth the wait. We will have them for dinner, served with plenty of green salsa and cold Indio.

At 11 AM Patti arrived to give me a wonderful massage, easing away all those tensions of sloth. Perhaps I am feeling guilty at so much do-nothing and hence am tense? I doubt it.

Starting at noon I sobbed my way through a thrilling Franco Zeffirelli production of La Boheme from the Met (I know that first "e" takes an accent grave but I can't fix it on the keyboard. Hélas.) This production was in Italian. I prefer it in French; Mimi doesn't die. Or does she? My French is a bit rusty these days.

The rest of the day was spent reading "The 19th Wife" by David Ebershoff. Interesting story and even more interesting is the author's style of storytelling.


18 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error

getting ready for a paint job

When we bought our house it was painted a color called "Salmón", a sort of pale peach, very Mediterranean, and the only house in town that shade. The color was very pretty, held up well to the sun, and looked "beach-y." From time to time we would have to patch and repaint and could never really match the color so the house is really several iterations of Salmón and, frankly, it looks a bit ratty. We decided it's now time for a new paint job, all one color. Houses here are mostly white, but there are also blue, green, yellow, orange, turquoise . . . you name it. I want to do something different this time so I have been experimenting with various colors. I pop into the paint store, buy a litre of something, slap it on the wall and see what I think. I've now narrowed the choices to two shades of tan.

One is called Tahitian Tan (on the left), the other Cocoon. The darker color will go on all the exterior walls; the lighter color on the "interior" exterior walls. I should explain. Our house is constructed of two wings joined together by an open air terrazzo that runs the length of the house on the first and second floors. (If you look at the photo above, the area above the front door on the second floor goes all the way through to the back of the house. You get a view of the sea in the front, a view of the mountains in the back.) Those are the "interior" exterior walls. The darker color will be on the shell of the house; front, back, sides, the walls you see from the street.

Upstairs I want to paint one of the terrazzo walls a different color. The color I chose is this violet shade. It may be a bit dark so I need to let it sit for a few days to see if it pales a bit. This picture doesn't do the color justice; it's the shade of a nice wisteria vine.But I think it will go nicely with the interior wall color. This swatch on the right shows the color as more purple. It is a pretty good contrast with the tan shade. I'll get Fernando to paint the wall and then see how I like it. If it is too bright he'll paint over it.

Here's the painting scheme. The front of the house, above, will be the darker color, Cocoon. The back of the house will be the darker color. Both the east and west facads will be dark. Then everything else will be the lighter tan.


In the back it will all be the darker color. You can see the large opening on the second floor. It opens onto the 2nd floor terrazzo and is open all the way through to the front of the house. I guess the smartest thing would be to put up a floor plan but I don't have one. Those two small windows upstairs are for the 1/2 bath (left) and our bathroom (right).

It's going to be quite an undertaking. Fernando is due to start next Tuesday with structural repairs before painting. That means I have to go back to the paint store to put in a gigantic order which, fortunately, the owner will deliver. It will take a couple of weeks to get it all done but I think it will be quite handsome when it is finished.

Tomorrow is the opera, La Boheme from the Met at 12 o'clock our time. Patti comes at 11 for my weekly massage. I'll be right in the mood to listen to Rodolfo (the sublime Ramón Vargas) and Mimi sing their little hearts out.

19 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error

eggnog by the beach

Welcome to 2009! Today the Mexicans serve the traditional Tamales de Dulce, a tamale filled with sweet meats, raisins and nuts. I, for one, am not a fan of this particular dish, but in our village it is readily available at most of the food stalls in town (not so much in the puestos that stick mainly to fish).

But down in the colonia we attended a lovely New Year's Day party that featured eggnog and lots of delicious "pick up" food. Everyone who had survived last night's festivities seemed in good spirits; not too hung over. The party was held in a house belonging to a couple who have moved down here from Ajijic, a gringo bastion near Guadalajara. It was built last year by Jaime and his crew of merry men (the chaps who did our floors and kitchen). This is a shot of the front of the house; all of those little windows are open to the breeze that comes from the mountainside, keeping the house cool.



For some reason it reminds me of the front of the Peter J. Shields Library

on the UC Davis campus. I love this library; it is filled with light AND great books.

I asked the hostess if rain poured through those openings during the wet season; yes, a little bit but nothing they couldn't live with. The breezes coming from the back keep the house nice and cool at night. Then the day breeze off the ocean passes right through the open house and out the back. Nature's air conditioning.

On the sea side of the house is a large covered patio and the pool. The fence you see is right on the beach. Beyond it is the sea.


The house is modern, decorated in black, white and tan. Furnishing are very comfortable; overstuffed cushions, a nice swing on the patio, plenty of room to spread out. The host and hostess are delightful people, a wonderful addition to life at the beach.

Tomorrow we will go into Tecoman to buy some more paint in anticipation of our big paint job next week. I am still testing out colors. I have almost decided on a two-tone house with some "interior exterior" walls painted a different color. I'll put the different shades up and take a good look. I checked out a local house today that used different shades on the exterior and it looks pretty good.

20 days until 1/20/2009: End of an Error