IF IT'S THURSDAY MORNING, IT MUST BE THE TANGO!

When I returned to Mexico City in late June, I was lucky enough to run into the "dancing girls" who had become such good friends during my first few months here.

That very day, Martita invited me to her "saint's day" party on a Thursday morning in late July. Suddenly, the party was upon me. I felt nervous missing a day of Spanish, because it seems that we learn about 100 things in each class, but Martita's party was very important to me. Plus, I would have a chance to practice my Spanish outside of the classroom.

So I bought a new dress, ordered a cab, and arrived on time at Las Delicias, located at Insurgentes Sur 1027. The restaurant is very old, with the traditional look of a cantina. Martita looked as beautiful as always. With the excitement ahead, though, she was almost sparkling as she greeted her guests. Some of my dance friends had already arrived, and we greeted each other with hugs and kisses on the cheek. I watched more and more women arrive....until finally there were over a hundred of us! Yes, over a hundred beautifully dressed women at a restaurant on a Thursday morning! No men were there, except the waiters, entertainers, and Martita's adorable grandson. Women in this country socialize all the time without husbands or dates.

Sure, women in the U.S. go to the movies, dinner, shopping, and even on vacation together, but Mexican women seem to relish their time together in a whole different way. In the U.S., women may not be out with men, but they often spend time talking about the men in their lives. Here, women talk about....themselves! They seem to like themselves more than U.S. women do. I love this self-confidence and strength I see in my friends here.

We were first served the traditional Mexican "cafe de olla", which is served in the brown cups you see in the pictures. I have made it at home, and it is delicious...a mixture of coffee, water, molasses, brown sugar and cinnamon. Sweet, dark, strong, and never served with milk.

When Martita announced that the breakfast buffet was ready, no one was shy...women lined up, chatting as they filled their plates with chicken in mole sauce, scrambled eggs with ham, potatoes fried with chorizzo, molettes, cereal, yogurt, and many kinds of fresh fruit. We were also served freshly squeezed orange juice and mango juice mixed with water. Everything was delicious.

For me, however, the best part of the party was still to come. Martita had made sure to give me a "ring-side seat" next to the raised dance floor, but I had no idea what to expect. As we were drinking our mango water, a very handsome singer, Carlos Laurichella, took the stage. Then he sang...and I was astounded at how absolutely beautiful his voice was. After all, this was just a private party on a Thursday morning!

Carlos sang story songs with emotion and great tenderness. However, my favorite moment came when he sang a special song to Martita, followed by a dance. She was amazing...not that I expected anything less!

Then Carlos introduced the next part of the show...tango dancers! I had never seen anyone tango except on "Dancing with the Stars". So to be just a foot from this incredible couple was mesmerizing.

After the professional entertainers, Martita called for dance songs...and we all joined her on the stage. I have been worrying about an injured knee that won't stop hurting...well, in all the dancing I did Thursday morning, I never once noticed my knee...and I was wearing heels!

I have always been both star-struck and painfully shy around entertainers I admire. Not here! I found the entertainers and asked for information on future shows and even had photos taken with them!

One of my friends tried to explain that this kind of party isn't all that unusual for women in Mexico City. And of course I believe her. This was, after all, the third wonderful breakfast party I had shared with some of these women. But being a part of such a wonderful way of life is unusual for me....it is fun and exciting and still new. And judging from the fun around me, no one in Mexico ever gets bored with this kind of celebration either.

Every day on e-mail and Facebook, I get a few "inspirational messages" about "seizing the day" and "living life to the fullest". I spend a lot of time forwarding these friends myself. But here in Mexico, the women are far too busy to forward such messages...they are living them!

Que Preciosas!

Our friends here had their first child recently...a beautiful, healthy baby girl. We went to visit them at their home last Saturday night. The baby was not even two weeks old. Their home was filled with family when we arrived...about ten people...and mom was in the bedroom feeding the little one. Coming from the land of Babies 'R Us, strollers, baby carriers, baby seats, baby monitors, baby stuff, I was surprised that I didn't see the regular items in their home. I don't mean they had only a few...I mean they had none. Just a crib. They are both professionals, with loving and supportive families, so I knew it wasn't a question of money. It was a choice.

I have mentioned before in this blog how happy Mexican babies and children are but this was my first chance to see how a family cares for a baby. Our landlady has two children and she is almost always with them...hugging them, kissing them, encouraging them. They are sweet, sweet kids. I wondered how a newborn would be...

When mom came out of the bedroom with the baby, I expected everyone to jump up and grab the baby from her arms. Wrong. They pulled out a chair for her and she sat, and for the next three hours she did not move. She held the baby in her arms...constantly. I cannot remember ever seeing anyone do this before. If the baby so much as yawned the entire group gathered around to watch...."que preciocas" was heard over and over. I talked with the grandmother, aunts, and great aunts. We all remarked on the baby's beauty, tranquility, and sweetness, but no one moved to take the baby from mom. They explained that being held this way was the most important factor in the baby's health, security and happiness. The family helped by preparing food and drinks and cleaning up in the kitchen. The baby herself wore a little outfit, then a hand-knit sweater and booties, then little mitts, and she was wrapped in two blankets. Here in Mexico, babies are kept warm! The only time the baby isn't held by mom or dad is when all of them are sleeping.

Near the end of our visit, dad took the baby but not because mom wanted or needed a break. He just wanted the baby in his arms. Neither parent said one word about being tired. As you can see from the picture, they both look wonderful!

When you walk in the squares here, you notice at once that there are no strollers...just babies being held. Same thing in the subway and on the peseros. You also notice the lack of crying and screaming. As soon as babies become toddlers and can walk, they do so, holding a parent or relative's hand. By that time, there is usually a new baby in mom's arms!

I do not think "BABIES 'R US" would want these secrets of raising happy, calm, sweet children to get out. They want moms and dads to think that having every single new product is essential to the health, development, and well-being of babies everywhere. On its website, Babies 'R Us offers 69 different pieces of gear solely to tote a baby around. Here in Mexico, a shawl, and the arms of a loving parent are all that is needed.

We wish our friends joy and happiness....but we know that they are already holding it in their arms.

Veinte cinco cosas no necesito

(This is my first attempt at a post in Spanish. You will notice it is in the present tense! This trip to the Merced Market actually took place last Saturday. This weekend, we went to Polanco, Roma, to our friends' home to meet their new baby, and to Santiago Zapotitlan for an amazing festival. Check soon for posts about these adventures! English translation follows.)


La ciudad de Mexico tiene muchos mercados. Todos tienen las mismas cosas: frutas, verduras, carne, pollo, pescado, pinatas, dulces, ropa, bolsas, zapatos, mole, tortillas, pan, estatuas de Jesus, Nuestra Madre, y La Flaca (Santa Muerta), abarrotes, jugetes, fregones, etc. Tambien, mercados tienen muchos pequenos restaurantes que serven quesidillas, tostadas, y otros antojitos. Sin embargo, un mercado es el mas grande en las ciudad...en las pais. Quiza el mundo! El Mercado de la Merced.

La Merced es tanto grande que la tiene un metro estacion! A La Merced, pensado comprar unas o dos cosas....pero....el espiritu de la Merced esta mas fuerte! Cerca de la Merced estan calles con tiendas y mas tiendas.

Necesito nada, pero...que debo comprar! Quiero comprar...necesito comprar...deseo comprar! Yo compro veinte cinco cosas NO NECESITO!! Ken me ayuda.

Tenemos ahora a nuestra casa:

1. Datils gigantes

2. Pasas

3. Arandanos Secos

4-6. Tres tipos differentes de dulces

7. Zanahorias

8. Brocoli

9. Puerros

10. Quiero una caja de carton porque me gusta el diseno. El diseno hay rojo y verde ilustraciones y palabras en Espanol. La caja cuesta tres pesos, la misma a una tarjeta de Metro. Yo compro.

11. Necesito botas por la lluvia. Esta es la estacion de la lluvia en la cuidad de Mexico. Busco botas en una tienda antiqua. Las botas son negras y rosas. Me gustan mucho! Yo compro.

12 - 15. Compramos cuarto cestas.

16 - 18. Compramos tres cosas por la cocina.

19. Compramos una jarra plastica.

20. Compro un panuelo.

21. Compro una mochila marino azul con deseno "Pumas". "Pumas" es la mascota de mi universidad, UNAM.

22 - 23. Compramos dos CD's de musica Mexicana sobre de metro.

24 - 25. Compramos dos DVD's en la calle...."Biutiful" con Javiar Bardem y un con Adam Sandler y Jennifer Aniston.

Quanto cuestan? Unos 700 pesos! En los estados unidos botas cuestan mas de 700 pesos! Y un panuelo, lo mismo.

Un dia de diversion, aventure y memorias....no esta caro en la ciudad de Mexico!

Twenty five things I don't need

Mexico City has many markets. All have the same things: fruit, vegetables, meat, chicken, fish, pinatas, candy, clothes, bags, shoes, mole (sauce), tortillas, bread, statues of Jesus, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and "The Skinny One" (Saint Death), groceries, toy, mops, etc. Also, markets have many little restaurants that serve quesadillas, tostadas, and other snacks. However, one markets is the biggest in the city...the country. Maybe the world. Merced Market.

The Merced is so big that it has a subway station! At the Merced, I think I will buy one or two things....but, the spirit of the Merced is very strong! Around the Merced are streets with store after store.

I don't need anything, but I must buy....I want to buy...I need to buy...I desire buying! I buy twenty-five things I don't need. Ken helps me.

dates, raisins, dried cranberries, three kinds of candy, carrots, broccoli, leeks.

I want a cardboard box because I like the design. The design has red and green pictures and words in Spanish. The box costs three pesos, the same as a subway ticket. I buy it.

I need boots for the rain. This is rainy season in Mexico City. I look for boots in an old store. The boots are black and pink. I like them a lot! I buy them.

We buy four baskets and three kitchen things. We buy a plastic pitcher. I buy a scarf. I buy a navy blue backpack with a "Pumas" design. "Pumas" is the mascot of my university, UNAM.

We buy two Mexican music CD's on the subway. We buy two DVD's on the street: "Biutiful" with Javiar Bardem, and one with
Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston.

What does this cost? Around 700 pesos ($60). In the U.S. boots cost more than $60. And the scarf, too.

A day of fun, adventure, and memories isn't expensive in Mexico City!

Dulce

My new schedule here in Mexico City is quite regimented. I get up early, get ready for school, meet our friend, Juan, on a nearby corner, stop at a cafe for a large "Americano" coffee, work work work in class and get a pesero back to my area. When I get off the pesero, I generally go to the "Green Corner", an organic restaurant, for lunch. I do the day's homework assignment at the restaurant. After that, I go and get food for the evening, walk the rest of the way home, and do laundry, dishes and begin cooking dinner. Then, the rains come. On Monday, I had to do an errand for Ken at a photo shop on the way home. The street my restaurant, supermarket, and the photo shop are all on is called "Miquel Angel de Quevedo" and it is always busy. It is a six to eight lane highway, with a big divider in the middle.

As I walked toward the photo shop I saw something that stopped me cold. Lying on the sidewalk was a dog who I just knew was dead. He was on his side, completely still.

For eighteen years, before we came to Mexico, my work as a prosecutor and Family Court Judge involved hearing the most horrifying stories imaginable from, or about, abused and neglected children. Slowly, as one unbelievable crime followed another, I lost my ability to cry. I used to feel I couldn't...not in front of the children who were victims. I never wanted them to think that what had happened to them was so bad that even an adult would cry. I took the approach that...hey...you were hurt...you are strong...you're a great little kid...all will be fine. As an attorney and judge, it wasn't my job to be a therapist. I will not tell you any of these stories. Frankly, you don't want to know them. They would stay in your minds and hearts the way they do in mine.

Here in Mexico, in general, children are honored, cherished, hugged, kissed, and doted upon. However, there are also thousands and thousands of desperately poor children here. Not "poor" the way we in the United States think of it. "Poor" as in having no shoes, nothing to eat, never going to school, selling candy on the subway or in the street. "Poor" as in juggling with fire at busy intersections at night just hoping someone will toss a peso from a car.

I see these children all over. They always remind me of the little victims I worked with in Schenectady. But I don't cry. The Mexican people must come up with a way to address the needs of these children. Just as in the United States people need to understand that there are thousands of Caylee Anthony's, and that preventing child abuse and murder is important in all cases.

So, last Monday when I saw the dog on the sidewalk I was prepared for anything except tears. But that lonely, dirty dog touched me in a way that nothing had in a very long time. Of course, I immediately thought of our own two rescue beagles...the ones who have changed our lives for the better. This old dog just hadn't been rescued.

By the time I got to the photo shop I was crying as I hadn't in a very long time. The photographer was sympathetic. I explained that naturally I knew that crying over a dog might seem crazy when children all over the world were hungry and dying, but that this dog affected me in a way that struck very deep. I found myself telling her about the years of not crying...

Suddenly, she cried out, "It's a miracle!" I looked, and there was the dog, up on its feet. I went to check on it, and found "it" was a "he". He had some pit in him. He had scars, like our Emily. His eyes were infected. He had no collar, and was very thin. He was too frightened to come very close me. In my back pack was some leftover pizza from lunch and some water. I put the plastic clamshell leftover container on the ground and filled the empty half with water. He only sniffed at the food, but loved the water. I wondered if he would follow me...and mostly, I followed him. At one point, he seemed to be less frightened, so I reached out to pet him. I stroked his head slowly and gently....and eventually his sad,lonely eyes closed. I wondered when he had last been lovingly touched. He was calm and quiet.

He didn't follow me long. I was thinking of trying to get a cab, but also wondered if he would be too frightened to get in. The next day, of course, I looked for him and found him again, in the same stretch of that enormous road. I bought some plastic bowls, water, and dog food in a pouch. Before I fed him, I petted him again. I told him that even though it was a girl's name, I was calling him "Dulce", which means "sweet" in Spanish. He would not eat in front of me (well, Emily still won't either and we have had her for years). I checked later, and all of the water and most of the food was gone.

I bought more dog food and also some dog biscuits. I looked carefully for him Wednesday, Thursday and today, but couldn't find him. This is rainy season in Mexico City, so each night it pours and gets very cold. I think of Dulce out in the weather, hungry, cold...and it overwhelms me.

Should I have forced him into a cab? I wish he was here in our little house right now. I wish he was learning to be less frightened. I wish I had a dog here because I miss Molly and Emily so much.

So I will keep walking down Quevedo every afternoon, with my bowls, water, dog food and dog biscuits. I may never see Dulce again, but I know I will see another sweet, lonely dog who needs someone like me as much as I need someone like him.

Semana Una --Hola!

I have been back in college for a week now. I have a student I.D. and can get into movies at the cool art theatre for less than $2.50. I have been struggling with Spanish since arriving here in the winter. Spending two months home wiped out any words or phrases I had managed to learn. So, I am in the beginner's class.

The first other student I met was Canadian, so she already spoke two languages fluently. In fact, just about everyone in the class knows a minimum of two languages! The two women from the Ukraine Republic and my classroom partner for reading and questions, from the Czech Republic, can converse in English, Czech or Ukraine, Russian or German. And now Spanish! How do they do it? And how are they learning so quickly?

I am nothing if not determined, but I just can't seem to remember these words. On the subway today, I brought my homemade index cards with vocabulary from class...blond = rubio, short hair = corte, dress = bota. But don't ask me how to say necktie or socks! We seem to be flying through the first part of the book. Am I the only one who is lost? My poor partner, Christiana, patiently puts on her lip gloss (just like I used to do in earth science!) while helping me correct my errors in the assignments we do in class. "You are doing fine, Jo Anne," she says, and she is so sweet about it that I believe her. I liked it when we were asking, over and over, "Como se llama"? But now we are describing clothing by type, color, material and using possesives and VERBS. I hate verbs. However, if I don't want to spend the rest of my time here pointing and making stupid faces to try and communicate, I guess verbs are necessary.

After a very long first week, our professor showed us how to be a bit Mexican on Friday. He is young (well, who doesn't seem young to me?), energetic, very nice and most of all so patient with this mix of students from the U.S., Ukraine & Czech Republics, Australia, Canada, China, and Korea...from an eighteen year old model to a nun to a couple of missionaries to a publicist to an enthusiastic woman of fifty-nine who seems to shout out the wrong answer a lot.

He handed out a worksheet entitled "La Flaca" and began to play a song. This "La Flaca" was not the skeleton "saint" I have written about before, however. This "La Flaca" is a skinny Cuban dancer who drives the singer mad with desire. We had to listen to the song, line by line and word by word, and try to figure out what the singer was singing. Then we had to sing it! After more schoolwork, el profesor had us push back our desks. He put on salsa music and proceeded to teach us to dance! I was immediately taken back to the days of Miss Lillian Flint's ballroom dance lessons in 6th grade where the boys had to bow and we walked around the room like Frankensteins. I was partnered with the only other "mature" (old) student, Walt. I was reminded of dancing with my old pal Lee Kremzier...the counting out loud, the smashing of toes, the feeling that we would never get it. No, Walt and I did not dip and swirl and turn like pros, but we sure had a good time. And, watching the kids was absolutely wonderful. Just like they are rapidly and fearlessly learning Spanish, they quickly picked up the salsa. It was a great ending to a week filled with lots of learning, lots of struggling, but most of all...lots of laughter.

Yes, Virginia, there IS a Rainy Season...

I returned to Mexico at the tail end of June. Although I have visited Mexico at the end of the rainy season, I have not been here at the height of the rain. Well, I am now and I am here to say that it is not fun. Not one bit. Now, this could also be because my prior life here, from January to April, consisted of getting up whenever I felt like it...drinking a few cups of coffee at home...either heading to dance class with my pals or deciding on a wonderful restaurant where I could enjoy a leisurely and tasty breakfast...then...maybe a museum? A walk in a wonderful neighborhood? Buying some gifts for the folks at home (or just for me)?

Ah! Those were the days. However, nothing remains the same. On the second day back, Ken and I went to the enormous University of Mexico, aka "UNAM" to register for Spanish classes. Turns out that the only time they are offered are from 9 a.m. until noon. EVERY SINGLE WEEKDAY!! Ken is doing an internship so he will have to learn Spanish another way. But I had no excuse.

The next morning, as I trudged up an area street, contemplating breakfast and thinking..."I won't be able to have breakfast out next week...", I thought I saw a familiar face. And then another...and another. Was it possible? In this city of over 20 million people was I on the exact street at the exact time as my dancing friends? I was!! Through sheer luck, the restaurant my friends had chosen was closed, so they were gathered on the street trying to decide where to go when I came along. I quickly walked home to change, because you don't go out with the dancing girls looking like a slob. I had brought some Krause's candy for them, and I picked that up, too. It was just wonderful to see them. I think the highlight of the day for Martita and Marite came when I confessed to them that "yo tengo mierda" about going to Spanish class. They both laughed and laughed, which seemed less than sympathetic to me...then they explained that instead of saying "I'm afraid", I had said "I'm sh**". Well, it is clear to me that I desperatly need to learn Spanish!

Sunday was my last day of freedom. I felt just like I used to when we had to go "back to school" every year in September. I was melancholy and nervous and sort of physically sick. So, Ken and I decided to go to the movies. He has been regularly going to see all kinds of good films at "Cineteca Nacional", which is an indie-art type place. He always walks there. We made sure to wear sneakers, raincoats, baseball caps, and have umbrellas. It was fairly late in the afternoon and we knew rain was coming, as it rains every single day during rainy season. However, the rain we had experienced so far was bearable. It wasn't until we were on the sidewalk of a huge six-lane highway with tons of traffic that the storm truly hit. We were completely drenched in minutes. My umbrella was useless. Ken's windbreaker was like a wet kleenex. The water just rose and rose. It was freezing, too. Lightening was striking all around us. Thunder was booming. Then, the hail began. Cars and buses were trying not to splash us, but often it was unavoidable due to heavy traffic. We just kept going, heads down, feet covered in water, often as high as our ankles. It felt as if we were on that road for hours. But, miraculously, we arrived at the theatre without being struck by lightening. We got in line, and took out our student I.D. cards.
"Seblabhedeconstutuelallapeclicuradelacinematovis" the woman at the ticket book said. Or something like that. Ken finally understood. We were too late. The movie was sold out. We had made our heroic and dangerous trip for nothing. Things just got worse after that. We got in and out of cabs at random. We tried to get food at the nearby mall's food court and three restaurants but the food was either unappealing or the lines waiting to get in were way too long...so we came home. Our microwave was broken so Ken heated left-over pizza at our landlady's house. This was it...my last night of freedom. I was eating old, tough pizza and realizing that my brand new sneakers might be wrecked forever. I was realizing that I had brought all the wrong clothes and left the right ones home. I was realizing that, from now on, I would have to wake up in the dark and cook my own breakfast. I was realizing that I would have to lug a backpack, books, an umbrella, a hat, and a raincoat every single morning. I was realizing that those bright, cobalt blue skies I loved so much in the winter were now covered by fog, clouds, mist, and rain.

Is there anything good about rainy season? I suppose so. The plants are all growing like mad. It goes without saying that rainy season provides water that is essential to life in Mexico. I have noticed that the dog poop washes away quickly. But I miss the sun...and when it does come out, the mugginess makes me feel all sweaty and dirty. No matter what clothes I wear I am either too hot or too cold, but mostly just too wet.

This season will last for months. I just hope I do!