April Shadows

Our internal alarm clocks woke us up at 5:30 this morning. It was still dark outside and ugh, also raining. The desire to remove our bodies from the comfort of the warm bed and set up the booth in the cold, wet conditions was very low. So low in fact, it didn’t happen.

We are playing hooky from the Saturday Market. Can you hear me giggling?

Instead of standing outside in the damp environs, we decided to sleep in, read, sip coffee, snuggle with the cat and play at making jewelry at a more casual pace, in the spirit of plenty.

So for all the brave vendors and staff who faced the elements and showed up to create today’s Market, we say Bravo! For all the customers who came down to lend their support and buy things, a hearty thank you.

And these photos taken this morning B.C. (before coffee) reveal our soft, tender mood today.

A bientot. See you later.

Viva Mexico - Shutterbug Fever

Groom and I differ in how we go after a photograph. He notices the direction of light, waits patiently for the right scene, sets up a shot carefully. Me? I point and shoot. One can usually find me with a camera in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. My approach is, well, rather casual.

I take 2-3 times as many pictures as Groom because I don’t have the patience. If it catches my eye, it triggers my finger.

I’m a documenter. I like to capture moments like this when we got our bill from the beach-front cantina. It was a simple, torn piece of paper written in pencil and deposited on our damp table, held in place from the tropical breeze by a dirty salt shaker.

Most of the people shots I take are in the moment. I try to capture what I see, not spoil the moment by walking up to them, interrupting the tableau and asking permission. When I’ve tried that, most are quite cooperative, but then they pose, giving me their camera faces. I want the real scene. That’s why some of my shots are blurry, like this one of the little girl staring at me on the bus.

I shoot while I’m walking, parasailing, in a taxi or on a bus, so I don’t always have the most steady hand. I don’t get to set up the shot or have time for a “redo.” But even if they are a little blurry or dark or too bright, I have the memory which brings back the feeling I wanted to save in the first place.

These photographs are a few in the people series and I hope you enjoy a peek into the second-hand window of our cameras.

Viva Mexico - La Comida!

It happens before every trip. At least one person will express fear and trepidation about ever going to a foreign country without speaking the language. I guess I’m lucky, because I went on my first overseas trip to Japan as a teenager and had not one word of Nihongo under my belt.

But no worries I soon discovered, people who must traverse the language barrier often have more meaningful conversations than those who share their mother tongue. Why? Because we have to listen, try harder and incorporate body language, hand signals, humor, smiles and graciousness.

Everywhere we’ve ever gone, we travel as guests. We understand that it is a privilege to enter someone else’s country and do our best to quickly learn the phrases of politeness, such as Bonjour Madame before ever asking a question, or Buenos Dias, Senor before launching into any attempts at conversation.

We have discovered that with even the slightest attempt at speaking their language, most people are patient with us and are more than willing to interact. In other words, it has not been necessary to be fluent in order to travel agreeably.

And, with many phrases being used situationally, it is easy to pick up the necessary meanings or gist right away. For instance, La Comida. I’m not sure if it means the food, the lunch, the supper, or the meal, but I’m pretty sure it has to do with edibles.

And this is what today’s entry is about, one of my favorite subjects, food! I love to eat as you can see by this truth telling photograph, and while that large glass looks like it be filled with a margarita, that, my friend, contained the most delicious fresh squeezed grapefruit juice.

Groom and I think we are fairly adventurous eaters, but haven’t worked up the nerve or the appetite to try say, roadkill or anything with brains, intestines and the like. We try not to eat at chain restaurants, instead preferring to discover out of the way restaurants and immersing ourselves into the local cuisine.

We have a pretty good knack for finding great places to eat and this trip was no exception. The only thing I have to complain about is that we could not find anything spicy. Groom and I love to eat food that is muy picante and caliente. My effort at saying very spicy and hot. En fuego. On fire.

But as for having eggs and refried beans for breakfast, that was not unusual. We often have beans for breakfast including today. Oh, we’ve been known to eat spicy quesadillas for the first meal of the day at home or roasted jalapeños so we had no fear of either the food or the water. We mostly sipped the bottled stuff, but drank tap water from our room sink that had a “filter.” No problema.

We love our coffee and the stronger the better. We giggled at having found some “Legal” coffee and wondered what the illegal stuff might taste like?

These are just a few of the pictures we took of food. Don’t be surprised, later on down el camino, the road, if you don’t find some more mouth watering images posted here.

Via Con Dios!

Viva Mexico - I Did What??!

A week ago was one of the best days of my life. I can hardly believe that last Saturday, I woke up in sunny Mexico at the Villa Del Palmar Resort. Groom and I had completed our jewelry making workshop and we had one day remaining of our vacation, the only day in which we could just relax and not have to be anywhere.

Like we did each morning while there, we took our coffee to the beach and watched the sun rise, the light kissing the waves, the many-hued rocks, the palm fronds. Such things soothe my soul and invigorate my spirit.

We positioned our lounge chairs and umbrella by the water’s edge and settled in for the day. I brought the excellent book I was absorbed in, The Help by Kathryn Stockett, excited that I would finally get the long awaited fantasy to unwind and read on a tropical beach.

That was not meant to be.

Local vendors selling everything from squid-on-a-stick to gum-wrapper purses and straw bags to wheel barrows filled with candy (we counted at least 34 different items being hawked), would stop by and interrupt my napping or reading in intervals of every three minutes or less.

“Practically free,” they’d say, offering me a “special American price,” of $100.00 for a bracelet. Ha! Special American price indeed. “Buy now, pay later,” they’d push.

I realized immediately that I could read when I got home and that the real show was happening all around me. Men in fedora hats and speedo trunks (yes, on the same couple) made my eyes pop out as did the variety of sizes and shapes pouring out of bikinis.

And then I saw it. A brightly colored parachute on the beach. Hypnotized, it seems now, I got up from my comfy chair and with arms practically stretched out like a sleep walker, headed over to where it was. Two gentlemen, “professionals,” they repeatedly told me, were just opening up business for the day.

Parasailing.

The wind was perfect they said, wouldn’t I like to try it? My stomach lurched, a storm of butterflies suddenly rising from nowhere. Gulp. I had wanted to try it for years. The added incentive was that my Uncle (God rest his soul) and Aunt had tried it on one of their vacations long ago. I figured if the older set could do it, so could I.

Now, this next part is where you might conclude I am rather slow or dimwitted and honestly, I wouldn’t blame you. I had it in my mind that parasailing was a cousin to waterskiing. That instead of hanging onto a rope and being pulled behind a boat on skis, which I have done successfully, I imagined that I would be pulled gently behind a boat hovering over the water a few inches, maybe even at an altitude of all the way to 50 feet. I pictured it exactly like waterskiing, only air skiing. I could do this.

So we gathered our last pesos and threw in a few American dollar bills and showed it to the “professionals,” and asked them to count it and see if it was enough. They whispered and conferred with each other and then grinned, nodding yes.

Then they put me in the diaper harness. Once they did that, there was no where to go but up. Quickly. I had imagined a casual incline, a simple hovering over a few feet of water, but noooooooo. I went from terra firma to 700 feet straight up in the air lickety split.

On this speed launch to the moon, there was this sickening moment when I thought, “Lord, what have I done?” There was no turning back, no way to get down; I was in it for the duration.

I’ve been in airplanes, and even though they fly higher than seven hundred feet, I’ve only had a few inches of window viewing and there’s been a ceiling overhead and a floor to stand on. I’ve stood near the top of the Empire State Building in New York, on top of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, at the top of Himeji Castle in Japan, and the Acropolis in Athens with a panoramic view, but I’ve still always had a fence or a window or a wall as some sort of barrier to shield me and something solid beneath my feet.

The experience of being so high up in the air without much support but an old-timey playground swing tied to a piece of cloth and tethered to a motoring boat is something I shall not soon forget.

I saw a bird fly by and thought, is this how you feel? To see the world at every angle, the sky above, the water below and a 360 degree unobstructed view?

I wish I could tell you that I let go of the reins and free-floated without a care in the world, surrendering to the moment, but I would be lying. No, I was shaking so dang hard I couldn’t even hold my camera steady to look through the viewfinder for while, but shot free range. Any picture I got was pure luck or else God looking through the lens for me.

There is no word that adequately sums up what I felt. Although Groom was on the ground taking photos of me, the man in the motorboat knew where I was and the two “professionals” were waiting to help me land, I felt completely and totally isolated, so alone. Not lonely, but just far, far away from any human contact. I could see no one. I was no longer connected to the earth.

It was just me. And the bird, and the sky and the beauty. And my fears and my joy. I found myself making the oddest noise, somewhere between a wailing and a whimper. A very sad noise because I was so scared.

But as intense as the frightening part was, the exhilaration, the freedom, the epic nature of the beast was pure bliss. Both contained in the same moment. It was the scariest thing I’ve done and the most exciting thing I’ve done.

When I finally landed, I was so proud of myself for taking the risk. The guys upon seeing my “happy face” told me to go have a shot of tequila which I did not because I wanted to enjoy the natural high.

As if that wasn’t enough enjoyment for one day, more was still to come. Another fantasy of mine came to fruition: We got massages on the beach.

As I said, last Saturday was one of the best days of my life. So far.