Mexico Fiestas: How They Work & What They Mean

Let me tell you about this week after Semana Santa.  Tuesday afternoon we began to hear cohetes (rockets or huge firecrackers) being set off in Ihuatzio.  I was interested to hear the discussion among our albañiles (a family team of workmen) on our roof cleaning and rearranging tejas (red roof tiles) in preparation for the rainy season, which arrives in May.

Following a brief discussion of whether the cohetes came from Janitzio (major island in Lake Pátzcuaro) or Ihuatzio (pueblo straight across the now-dry Lake bed from us), Daniel (father) pronounced definitively that the origin was Ihuatzio, and the cohetes were announcing the beginning of Ihuatzio's annual fiesta honoring their patron saint, San Isidro.

The pueblo's full name follows the custom of the frailes (members of the Catholic Monastic Orders that sent missionaries to Nueva España) to use both the Purhépecha and a Saint's name.  So the pueblo's full name is Ihuatzio de San Isidro.

But this is a three-day fiesta, and last night was the pueblo's baile tradicional (traditional dance). I can attest to the fact that they were going strong at 2:00 AM, when I wakened briefly to enjoy the sounds of Mexican music before putting in earplugs so I could get the rest of my beauty sleep.

Mexican Fiesta Band

The story of fiestas is an excellent example of how cultural understanding builds over time. For me, the first stage was simply enjoying, even savoring, the full sensual impact of Mexican fiesta traditions.

Señoritas in Traditional Dress Bearing Bottles of Tequila
for Champions at the Jaripeo (Bull-Riding Rodeo)

All five senses are involved—sights (families, bright colors), sounds (happy chatter, music and dance, games, cohetes), touch, taste and smells aroused by mouth-watering, soul-satisfying traditional foods—corundas, atole (corn-based beverage seasoned with various fruits), tortillas a mano (handmade tortillas), tacos of all kinds, and much more.

Young men stirring huge pots of Atole

Stage Two began when I first learned how fiestas are arranged. A Mexican friend told me that one person in the pueblo accepts the cargo (charge) for the year's fiestas, which includes not only arranging, but paying expenses associated with the fiesta as well:  bands; religious services; food and drink for assistants; adornments for the Saint's image (frequently a statue); cohetes (rockets) and Castillos (towers of fireworks)!

Castillos, Fireworks Towers, are a standard element of fiestas

My initial reaction was disbelief ("But how can that be?"), followed quickly by mild censure as I learned that sometimes a family will send a son to the U.S. to earn the money to pay for the fiesta. What?—asked this incredulous extranjera (foreigner), still trying hard to understand.

My Mexican friend further explained that it has been known to happen that upon receiving money from the government, a pueblo's Elders have chosen to pay for their fiesta rather than make infrastructure improvements to the pueblo. The mild censure of this civil engineer's daughter yielded to outright disbelief:  "How can this possibly be?  How can the Elders choose to 'waste' these funds on a fiesta?"  

Over time, that is, in an ongoing Stage Three, I am coming to learn, and far more than merely learn about, but to appreciate deeply the wisdom of, this culturally-based reasoning. As my understanding increases, so does my respect.

As it turns out, a pueblo's fiestas are much more than an annual 'party'. In these communal societies, continuity of family and community is top priority. In this context, fiestas are essential social rituals for reinforcing familial and communal identity essential for preserving millenia-old cultural traditions rooted in Mesoamerican culture.

Community members living afuera (outside the pueblo, either in other regions of Mexico or in the U.S.) make annual visits—one might say pilgrimages—to attend their pueblo's fiesta. At this time and in this way, communal identity is affirmed in a traditional reaffirmation of: Who I belong to, and Who belongs to me.

Sign reads: "Employees of Tzintzuntzan 2009"
"Lord of the Rescue"
"Commission of the People and Migrant Brothers (25-year tradition)"

These traditions are built on ancient Mesoamerican customs of mutual responsibility and mutual obligation described by Gustavo Estefa and Guillermo Bonfil Battalla (México Profundo), among others.

A person's invitation to accept the cargo for the pueblo's fiestas is, in fact, one of the highest honors the pueblo can bestow. It singles out the carguero as a person who not only knows what must be done to maintain the ancient cultural tradition, but how to do it.  The role of carguero brings prestige and honor to himself and to his entire extended family.

From an early age, children begin to assume responsibilities in the larger community; that is, they begin to act in ways that acknowledge and honor their obligation to the community. As they mature, responsibilities become increasingly significant until, as adults, they may choose to participate in the sistema de cargos (hierarchy of public tasks).

It is by their service to the community over many years—even decades—that the individual develops a variety of specialized capacities for maintaining the community and assumes increasing responsibility and authority for community governance.

A majority of roles (cargos) are annual. In some situations, acceptance of a charge is voluntary; in other situations, a cargo is imposed either by designation or by election. In either situation, the social pressure to accept is intense. 

The sistema de cargos formalizes the authority of the community in three inextricably linked spheres: civil, religious and moral.  A person who successfully performs all the "laddered" tasks is admitted to the community's circle of "principles" or Elders, in whom the ultimate authority of the community resides.

This closed circle of Elders is charged with maintaining the group's cultural—that is, indigenous—heritage with its Mesoamerican roots. Participation in the sistema de cargos implies a fundamental orientation of one's life toward service to the community. For that reason, it is one of the basic norms underlying identification with and membership in the community's circle of Elders.

Council of Elders for Pueblo on shores of Lake Pátzcuaro

There is a visible congruence among seemingly diverse cultural aspects of these indigenous communities:

• Orientation of production toward self-sufficiency is congruent with a society that recognizes prestige (rather than, for example, material success); these core values—self-sufficiency and prestige—tend to equalize material gain and discourage accumulation of wealth. 
• Neighborly and familial connections based on networks of reciprocal relationships (mutual obligation—similar to the farming communities that settled the Midwest and West) are the same as those required for the acquisition of authority by means of prestige described above.  
• Communal property and restrictions placed on the acquisition of private property are congruent with roles,  relationships and values described above.

In sum, the community profile describes a society in which full realization of the individual is achieved by means of service to the community, which in turn, gives back prestige and authority to the individual who undertakes to participate in the sistema de cargos.

For this extranjera, raised in a culture that values individualism, individual effort and material success, the placement of family and community, including an ancient cultural heritage, at the center of one's effort and care involves a growing acceptance of a radically different way of thinking about all the possible ways we might consider living together on our Planet Earth.

Jenny's Update: 2014 

If you're up to having basic assumptions challenged, I strongly recommend Naomi Klein's recently published (2014) "This Changes Everything: Capitalism Vs. the Climate"; reviewed in New York Times by Rob Nixon, "Naomi Klein’s ‘This Changes Everything’." (The review is exceptionally useful for understanding the thrust of Klein's argument.)

The first generous third of this highly researched and vetted work reviews climate science. I plowed my way through the science, which Naomi presents in the most accessible way possible. Becoming increasingly pessimistic, I was completely unprepared when Naomi Klein sprang a surprise on this trusting reader. A Canadian, she introduced a discussion of Canada's First Nations as best positioned to take on and stop the Keystone XL pipeline. Even more, she discusses the worldview underlying their way of life.

* * * * * Most Highly Recommended.

Easter Sunday in Pátzcuaro

This morning dawned clear and bright at Casa Mariposa.  Easter Sunday was heralded by the inimitable sound of cohetes—rockets, or large firecrackers—calling the Faithful to Mañanitas, Morning Prayers.  I'm not quite sure why the cohetes sound so reassuring and friendly; perhaps it is knowing that they take the place of bells in the smaller churches around Lake Pátzcuaro.

Easter Sunday is mostly a Family Day.  Our favorite restaurant in Pátzcuaro, el Camino Real (the King's Highway), is decorated for the occasion with blown-out eggs hung on a tree. The symbolism is unclear, but eggs are clearly fertility symbols in anticipation of the approaching planting season.

The restaurant's cocineras (Mexican chefs are traditionally women) will be kept hopping all day preparing  almuerzo (brunch) in the late morning, followed by comida (dinner) in the afternoon.

Tables will be set up in a covered patio area in front of the restaurant to accommodate customers. Meanwhile, the restaurant's cheerful meseros (waiters) will quickly push tables together to accommodate family groups easily numbering ten, fifteen, even twenty or more people per family.

One of my favorite sounds in Mexico is the muted, comfortable sound of family conversation punctuated by the gentle laughter that seems to come easily and often during these family celebrations.

Easter Message from Pátzcuaro

For this extranjera (foreigner) living as embedded as possible in a Mexican neighborhood, it is increasing awareness of and respect for the acute Mexican sense of the dualism that characterizes all life.

In the Mexican sensibility, every condition of human life is characterized inevitably by its opposite state—life and death, joy and sorrow, laughter and tears, success and failure, bitter and sweet—the list is as infinite as the states of the human condition.

When we first arrived, I experienced as jarring, discordant, the automatic reminder by our Mexican friends of a condition's opposite state.  Being reminded of a condition's opposite denied me the luxury of relishing—or wallowing in—a current state.

But over time, I've discovered the wisdom inherent in recognizing the Essential Duality of Life:  no condition—positive or negative—lasts forever.  I'm mindful of St. Paul's comment from his imprisonment:  "I've learned in whatever state I am, therein to be content." 

It is in this context that perhaps we can approach an understanding of the suffering and penance of Good Friday and Holy Saturday as the necessary precursor for celebration of the Risen Christ on Easter Sunday.

¡Feliz Pascua!  Happy Easter!

Holy Saturday: Silent Procession in Pátzcuaro

The Procession of Silence on Holy Saturday night before Easter Sunday is a time of deep penance. 

Men dressed in medieval-style robes of purple or black, their faces and heads covered by conical caps, walk barefoot through the streets, together with images of the Crucified Christ, the Sorrowing Virgin Mary, and John, the Disciple whom Jesus charged with caring for his mother, Mary. 

Children carry symbols associated with the Crucifixion. 

Boy dressed as Roman soldier

Women and girls dress as the women following Jesus. The girl dressed in black in the center represents Mary, who is following a white-robed angel and accompanied by other women.

History of Conical Hoods

A word is needed to explain the conical hoods.  For our countrymen and women in the U.S., the connection to the Ku Klux Klan is instantaneous and fraught.  Here's the story as we understand it. 

The conical cap has a long history throughout the world. It was used during the Spanish Inquisition as part of the clothing of humiliation worn by people charged with heresy before the Inquisition. There is some evidence that this practice is the historical root of the student's Dunce Cap.

Pointed hoods were also used by various Spanish secret orders and Catholic lay confraternities for processions—specifically, the Capirote, or conical cap, was worn during Semana Santa processions held in Seville, Spain.

But the story of how the medieval conical cap came to be adopted by the Ku Klux Klan is a curious example of cultural diffusion. During the making of the movie (1915), The Birth of a Nation, the costume designer reached into the medieval ages to get a costume idea for the Klan, which by the 1920's had nearly died out. The designer came up with the medieval Spanish Capirote. In the wake of the movie, the Klan experienced a resurgence and adopted the conical cap seen in the movie.

It should be noted that although "Birth of a Nation" is honored for its technical innovations as one of the One Hundred Best American Films, the racial undertones are deeply disturbing to contemporary audiences.

Conical Cap in Pátzcuaro

But it is safe to say that the tradition of the conical cap in Pátzcuaro's Silent Procession is grounded in the medieval tradition of Spanish lay confraternities, as introduced in Nueva España by the Spanish monastic orders. In Pátzcuaro, barefoot penitents march in the Silent Procession in search of atonement for their sins.

The Procession of Crosses on Good Friday Night and the Procession of Silence conveyed to Reed and me powerful feelings of the suffering that humans are capable of inflicting on one another—as represented by the image of the Crucified Christ. 

But these annual processions also convey the love and devotion that Mexican Catholics have for these very realistic images that provide them with a tangible connection to their God.

Good Friday in Pátzcuaro

Gazing periodically out the iron gate of Casa Mariposa on the outskirts of Pátzcuaro, Reed and I watched a steady stream of cars heading toward Centro (downtown) in advance of Good Friday. Based on our week-long observation, we're confident that the cars bear license plates from all over Mexico—Puebla, Jalisco, Guanajuato and Querétaro and, above all, the Distrito Federal or Mexico City.

Pátzcuaro is a destination on religious pilgrimages of the faithful throughout the year. But observance of the days preceding Easter are especially powerful and emotionally charged. 

The stage is set, as it were, by the Altar de Dolores (Altar of Sorrows) that are set up in more than twenty locations in Centro—not only in the Básilica and Churches but in the Palacio Municipal (City Hall), Library, local Theater, hotels, schools and even some private houses, including the Bishop's Residence, situated on the Plaza Grande. 

By far, the most elaborate and beautiful of these Altars is the one set up in front of City Hall (see below), which induces a distinct cultural jolt among those of us raised in a tradition of strict separation of Church and State.

Altar de Dolores (Altar of Sorrows), Palacio Municipal, Pátzcuaro

Semana Santa, Holy Week, in Pátzcuaro is very different from Holy Week in the United States. Almost all Mexicans are Roman Catholic, and their Easter traditions originated in Catholic Spain 400 years ago. 

Processions through the streets and other events represent the last week of the life of Jesus. The images are extraordinarily vivid in their portrayal of the suffering and crucifixion of Jesus and of the suffering of his mother, the Virgin Mary. They provoke an immediate emotional reaction. To those of us with a Protestant heritage, they can be strange and even disturbing . Here you will encounter this Mexican experience.
Good Friday morning began for us with the procession up to Calvario Church, located on the road leading up the volcanic mountain called Estribo.

In the procession, men and women from the Church's confradas (lay service organizations) carried on their shoulders wooden platforms on which rested statues of Jesus, Mary, and John the Disciple, whom Jesus charged with caring for Mary.

Women of the Confrada carry the image of Mary, Mother of Sorrows

The men of the confrada wore shirts bearing the message (loosely translated), "Jubilee Year celebrating 350 years of miraculous movement of the Lord of the Third Order." (Third Orders are church lay organizations, distinquished from clergy and monastic orders.)

Message on back of shirts worn by men in the Confrada

When the procession reached the area in front of Calvario Church, a man from the Church, in a reenactment of the crucifixion of Jesus, was placed on an actual wooden cross. On either side of 'Jesus' were two other men representing the two thieves.  All three remained on their crosses for less than an hour before being taken down.

The crowd of watchers then began to disperse—many taking advantage of traditional Mexican food offered for sale by residents of houses along the route of the procession. One family had offered chairs on their balcony for observers willing to pay for a better view.

Tonight after dark was the Procession of Christ Crucified. We waited patiently with others for the arrival of the procession. We spotted the white canopy first, but had no idea what it was until it close enough for us to see a priest walking under it, carrying the Host, which embodies the presence of Christ.

Following the priest came a seemingly endless procession of Crosses, brought by the confradas from their Churches in Pátzcuaro and from Churches in nearby pueblos to be part of this procession.  The first Cross was cradled tenderly in the arms of two men.

Christ Crucified is draped in purple, which symbolizes His Suffering and Passion.

Next came the Cross of the Sacred Heart. The handwritten sign, "The Holy Cross of Saint Lazarus," touched me for its unapologetic simplicity.  

Next came a Black Christ. 

Christ shrouded in His Tomb. 

The Sorrowful Mother of Christ dressed in the black of mourning, carried by women of the Confrada. 

The Cruz Verde, or Green Cross, with the Rays of God emanating from the empty cross draped in white, which symbolizes not only purity, but mourning as well. The Cruz Verde was the only 'empty' Cross in the procession.

The color green carries complex symbolic meanings. In the Aztec culture, green connoted royalty because it was the color of the quetzal plumes worn by Aztec chiefs. Green is also associated with resurrection and regeneration. Fiesta Day for Cruz Verde is May 3, which coincides with planting in the Lake Pátzcuaro region.

The last Cross was remarkable for its humanity and its simplicity. 

The Procession ended as it began...in silence. We, like the others who had stood near us watching, began walking away slowly, quietly, reflectively.  

Mexico Culture: Semana Santa Tianguis

This is the week of  Semana Santa, including the Tianguis (Open-Air Market). Today Reed and I visited this artisans' fair set up in the Plaza Grande in Pátzcuaro. Tianguis features crafts brought by artisans from the surrounding pueblos—some  from quite a good distance away.

Like many traditions, the roots of Pátzcuaro's annual Semana Santa Tianguis reach deep  into the soil of Mesoamerican, including Purhépecha, culture, which was based on subsistence farming.

The culture practiced self-sufficiency supported by values of mutual obligation and mutual responsibility that served to bind members of the community to one another.

But subsistence farming and self-sufficiency didn't mean a lack of specialization.  In fact, quite the opposite was true. The geography of Mexico is such that entirely different ecosystems often lie only a few miles apart.

The availability of different natural resources naturally fostered the development of specialized crafts and wares in different indigenous communities. These crafts and wares were traded or, more accurately, bartered (trueque) at annual fairs held precisely for that purpose.

The system of trueque practiced at the tianguis (open-air market) was simply another facet of the value of mutual obligation—each community provided specialty items that enriched life in the broader regional Mesoamerican community.

It's a real challenge for me to try to describe the diversity of crafts:  pottery of all sizes and shapes—bowls, vases and trays glazed with aesthetic designs and color.

There are large, black and brown glazed floor pots, some a meter high, which are beautiful when they grace Mexican patios and courtyards.

There are wood products: wood-carved masks, sculptures of crocodiles and dragons large enough to sit on the floor; salad bowls, serving forks and children's toys made of wood.  The trucks are truly special! There are the pottery devils and dragons of the pueblo of Ocumicho, which Reed collects.

There are cotton handwoven and embroidered blouses, huipiles (single-piece dresses).

Huipiles

There are wool sweaters woven from the softest merino lambswool, and rebozos, children's cotton shirts and pants; men's shirts, and sombreros woven from natural fibers. And embroidered scenes of pueblo life.

Embroidered traditional scene

There is lacquer ware of all kinds (hair combs, boxes, earrings, large trays and bowls), hand-crafted silver jewelry, woven baskets, and did I mention children's wooden toys, including coordination-challenging tops!

But yesterday as Reed and I strolled gazing at the stalls, I was struck by the differences in traditional dress of indigenous women who, clearly, come from different pueblos. Their dress reminded me yet again of the cultural blending that occurred with the arrival of the Spaniards.

It's obvious that the early Church Orders (brothers charged with converting the indigenous and teaching  them Spanish culture) mandated that the indigenous peoples adopt minimal Spanish dress:  shirt and simple pants for the men; blouse and skirt for the women.

Purepecha senora

It is equally obvious that the inherent Mesoamerican aesthetic kicked in as indigenous women transformed the basic mandate into graceful, aesthetically pleasing styles of dress.

Zapotec dress, Oaxaca

My indigenous friend Alicia reminded me the other day that each pueblo has its own distinctive clothing style, a point driven home by her sister's experience as a teacher in a distant pueblo.

Intent on fitting in with the families of her students, her sister bought the pueblo's traditional dress. When she returns to Pátzcuaro, she wears the same clothing because it's too expensive to maintain two sets.

Purepecha women at a fiesta

But to her consternation, she finds that people in Pátzcuaro think that, because of her dress, she's from the far-away pueblo rather than her nearby home pueblo of Nocutzepo, which is about 20 minutes away on the west side of Lake Pátzcuaro. To say the least, it is slightly unnerving to be taken as fuereña (outsider) in your own hometown!

I also want to write about rebozos, which is a separate post all in itself!

Rebozos

Mexico Traditions: ...and Pepsi!

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It's hard to believe, but the third anniversary of our arrival in Mexico is fast approaching. I remember it well!

As we rode toward our new life from the airport towards Morelia (state capital of Michoacán), we were confronted by a huge red, white and blue sign painted on a pristine white wall: “Bienvenidos a Michoacán ... Pepsi.”

I was in trouble. I took a deep breath.

As a corporate consultant, my last U.S. client was...Pepsi. Projects often fail to start or finish as planned. This one was no exception. When we arrived in Morelia, the project was in full swing—much to the deep distress of my beloved husband who was furious that I would be work-distracted as we began settling into our new home in a new culture and speaking a new language.

Once we were comfortable in our rented house, we began to poke around. Reed's distress sensitized him to see the Pepsi logo all around. But, honestly, it wasn't hard. Pepsi really was "...everywhere you want to be."

The familiar red, white and blue circular logo was painted on wall after wall along the streets and highways of Michoacán. Awnings, tables and chairs in restaurants sported the Pepsi logo. Sadly, even our favorite neighborhood family restaurant wasn't exempt. The Pepsi logo was visible in every pueblo we visited on the meseta (rural highlands) and on the islands in Lake Pátzcuaro.

Pepsi at feet of Purhépecha woman in traditional dress

Pepsi showed up on the back of shirts worn by deliverymen bringing Santorini bottled water to our house. Obviously the deal is, "We'll paint your wall or donate table, chairs, awnings if you'll display the Pepsi Logo." It is impossible to escape Pepsi in Mexico. 

One day Reed looked down the driveway to see a Pepsi truck improbably parked on the berm about fifty feet away from our front gate. Deliveries were in progress across the street to our neighbor's tiny convenience store—really nothing more than a window counter open to the street. When I heard Reed's anguished cry of protest, I feared for our marriage!

In front of our gate—¡Qué barbaridad!

Before arriving here, I hadn't thought much about how the U.S. and Mexican economies relate to each other. So these statistics surprised me:

• Some 18,000 U.S. corporations do business in Mexico.
• Ninety percent of Mexican exports—oil, manufactured goods and agricultural products—go to the U.S.
• Fifty percent of Mexican imports come from the U.S.
• U.S. banks own Mexico’s largest banks.
• Kansas City Southern Railroad owns the line that runs past our house from the Pacific port of Lázaro Cárdenas to Mexico City.
• Mexico’s largest sources of income are from the sale of oil to the U.S., tourism and remittances—money sent home to families in Mexico by family members working in the U.S.

The impact of the U.S. economy on the Mexican economy is profound—a reality captured by this Mexico dicho, saying — “When the U.S. sneezes, Mexico gets pneumonia.”

The first time I saw the string of U.S. box stores lining a prize stretch of highway into Morelia, I gulped — Where am I? This isn’t Mexico! But, yes, it is Mexico today. 

CostCo, Home Depot, WalMart, Sams Club, Sears, Office Depot and Office Max all have Mexican presence. But that’s not all. Side-by-side with U.S. companies are Mexican-owned box stores imitating and extending the U.S. retail business model.

Then there’s the impact of U.S. popular culture on Mexican culture. Like every other region on the planet, U.S. popular culture makes a strong statement in Mexico: music, movies, television series, magazines, youth fashions, electronics….

Purhépecha women in traditional dress reach for cellphones from the front of their embroidered blouses. 

Reed photographed this Purhépecha teenager paddling a traditional canóa (canoe) with an iPod firmly in his ear.

In the face of such raw economic and political power, Mexican President Porfirio Días put into words the sentiments of many Mexicans toward their powerful northern neighbor—"Poor Mexico: So far from God; so close to the United States."

In time, of course, the Pepsi gig ended, and we established a life-affirming rhythm at la Casa Mariposa. But to this day Pepsi remains somewhat of a family sensitivity. 

This is the background, then, for my coming across Craig "Cisco" Dietz's account of the day he and Xun, his gardener and a Maya shaman, set out to purify the Temezcal (sweat lodge) they had constructed together using traditional tools and materials in the backyard of Cisco's house in San Cristóbol de las Casas (Chiapas State). Cisco's account exemplifies the cultural curiosity that we cherish while giving us a chance to glimpse traditional Maya beliefs and customs.

Culturally threatened since the arrival of the Spanish five hundred years ago, Mexico's surviving indigenous populations have demonstrated creativity in preserving their traditional ways of life. They persist in finding ways to adapt modern realities and resources to their traditional customs. Often the results represent important new ideas for sustainable living.

Reading Cisco's account, I couldn't believe my eyes. Among the objects used in this traditional purification rite, Cisco lists the objects that Xun brought: Posh (traditional Maya brew), Pepsi, hunzio, candles, fresh rainwater and Xun’s history, of the continuance of traditions of Chamula....

Yes, you read correctly, here in an ancient Maya rite of purification was...the ubiquitous bottle of Pepsi!

But don't let me spoil an opportunity for you to experience this account first-hand. Here's the link: Cisco Dietz http://www.mexconnect.com/articles/725-temezcal-y-xun-the-sweatlodge.

Mexico Tradition: Vibrant Informal Economy

The Mexican government recently released an interesting statistic. A full forty-three percent of the Mexican economy is 'informal', which is to say that the business activity is neither registered with the government nor is it taxed.  To my way of thinking, forty-three percent is a pretty big number, but given what we observe here in Pátzcuaro and in our travels around the country, the number is credible.

The entrepreneurial ingenuity of the Mexican people never ceases to amaze us. Evangelina is a good example.  She helps me with the house. It is our custom to begin her day with a cup of Urúapan coffee in the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, we gossip, trade notes and observations on life.

Early in her marriage Evangelina realized that her life would be hard and, in her words:

"I could either get depressed, or I could decide what I wanted to do with my life.  I decided that even if I couldn't go, I would make sure that each of my children went to school."

And that is exactly what she did.  One daughter works for the government dealing with exports; another is a social worker; a third teaches school. Her son is a bookkeeper in Los Angeles.

In Mexico, parents pay a lot of public school expenses, so it wasn't easy.  But as Evangelina tells it:

"If a child needed a new uniform—that's okay, I'd take some of the eggs from my chickens to sell in the market. If another needed books or to pay for dance, that's okay, I'd sell extra avocados from my tree."

The informal economy at work!

What I pay Evangelina is part of the informal economy—as are our cash payments to the gardener and the various, occasional handymen who help us maintain Casa Mariposa.

I guess Reed and I are becoming acculturated because we're no longer surprised by the vendors we encounter nearly everywhere. As Reed puts it:

"At any given event, people are there selling something."

Holy Week is approaching.  One of the processions will go up to Calvario Church on Good Friday.  Along the procession route, homeowners will offer food and drink for sale. Some homeowners will offer to rent chairs on their balconies to visitors who desire a better view.

Our young adult friends needed to make extra money for a special project. So they hit upon the idea of preparing tacos a vapor (delicious steamed tacos) to sell on Sunday mornings in the market. Thanks to the informal economy, they were able to finance their project!

Pátzcuaro's mercado (open air market) is a combination of formal (government registered, tax-paying) and informal businesses. As examples of informal 'businesses', I have in mind the traditionally dressed indigenous women from the pueblos who, seated on their petates (woven grass mats) on the ground, offer garden herbs and vegetables for sale.

But I'm also thinking of the numerous 'regular' street vendors, who spend their days walking around Plaza Grande offering their wares—traditional baked goods, herbs, candies, carved crosses, rebozos, pottery. And this list doesn't even take into account the street musicians! Wherever we go in Mexico, the vendors are there ahead of us.

It occurs to me that perhaps one way to understand the informal economy is as a coping strategy for Mexico's ordinary people. The employment situation in Mexico is difficult. There just aren't enough jobs to go around. The social safety net is weak at best.


In this context, it is reasonable to view the informal economy as a creative response to life's challenges. Aguante (persistence) is a primary cultural value. I'm reminded again of our friend Norma's comment: "We Mexicans are like our burros; we just keep going."

The entrepreneurial ingenuity,  energy and persistence of our Mexican neighbors in the face of daunting economic realities never ceases to amaze and awe us.

Here's an article about the informal economy in a Mexican urban setting that Reed posted yesterday on the Americas Blog.

Alternative & Organic Fair in Arócutin - First Sunday Monthly

Last Sunday Reed and I visited the pueblo of Arócutin, which is about half an hour out on the west side of Lake Pátzcuaro. Our destination was an "organic fair" held on the first Sunday of each month.  What an incredible cultural fusion it turned out to be!  

My interest was piqued when my Spanish teacher  told me that he visited the fair last month with his wife and two young children, who had a terrific time. 

We walked down the driveway of a property dotted with several quirky Mexican buildings—including a dry fish pond!  The first thing that caught our attention were the plantings, which were quite remarkable—herbs of all kinds, unusual trees and bushes.  

We walked around a bend in what was by now a single-file footpath and—voilá—we had arrived! But where on earth were we?  

Flute music wafted gently on the breeze. In front of us were tables shaded by grasses woven to form shade roofs.  Dappled sunlight fell through the lightly-scented grasses on goods of all kinds—cheeses, blouses, tablecloths and napkins, herbs and plants, and fresh, organically grown garden vegetables—spinach, Swiss Chard, carrots, radishes, and more.

I have to add that the taste of vegetables grown here is quite remarkable. The Swiss Chard, spinach and carrots are truly sweet, not at all bitter, and even the largest radishes are full-flavored, hot.  A recent vegetarian guest commented, "Michoacán is a vegetarian's delight!" 

Set out on still more tables were still more offerings—herbal medicines and natural creams, goat cheese....  One woman was selling tiny succulents planted in blown-out egg shells that rested on tiny egg dishes. I was struck yet again by the originality of the Mexican aesthetic. 

Suddenly Reed exclaimed, "This is an orchard—look at this peach tree."  In his hand, he was tenderly holding a very young peach growing on its branch. As I continued to gaze around, I became aware of a pink rope-cloth secured to a tree limb about 20 feet up.  A little girl was learning to climb the rope under the competent supervision of a lithe Mexican señorita.

There were craft workshops of all kinds—weaving with wool, etc.  Oh -- and have I mentioned the fragrance of burning incense?

And the food!  An elderly indigenous woman knelt on a mat in front of a metate rolling masa for the delicious blue corn tortillas. There was ceviche, tostadas, empanadas...the variety was impressive.  By now I wasn't even surprised to meet my extremely professional physical therapist from Morelia helping out her husband, who, as it turns out, brews superb microbeers! 

Clearly baffled, Pablo, our driver and friend, whispered to Reed, "What is this?"  The truth is, we were asking the same question. It felt like a happening that might have been organized by a hippy community from the 1960s in Northern California or New Hampshire. But there the similarity ends, because if this was a hippy happening, it carried a distinctly Mexican flavor. 

Gradually I became aware of not just the variety of offerings, but of who was offering them.  Most striking was how many Mexican campesinos and artesanos were offering their wares, but there were also American hippy-types selling their hand-crafted jewelry and US-style baked goods. To my ear, their Spanish was fluent, even colloquial. Clearly, they've been here a long time, as evidenced by several blue-eyed, blond children happily running around barefoot. 

But it became equally clear that some of the 'hippies' were indeed Mexicans, which suggests to us that the counterculture has reached down into Mexico. We also encountered Mexican hippies on our recent visit to San Cristóbol (Chiapas). When we left, Reed spotted the ever-faithful VW bus in the parking lot. Diagnosis confirmed!

What was equally amazing was that as gringos we were a distinct minority among the customers.  I asked a vendor about the history of the property, and she told me that it had once been a 'community'—my hunch is that it may have been a commune—but now it is owned by one couple, and each month they host this fair. 

What an unexpected fusion of cultures we encountered on a warm, spring day in Arócutin! Needless to say, we will return!

Directions:  Follow the road to Erongarícuaro about 10 km.  Turn Right toward Jarácuaro.  The driveway to the property is on the Right, about 100' from the corner. You'll see cars parked along the road.  

Travel Journal: Maya Bio-reserve in Chiapas State

Reed received a terrific message from a friend in Connecticut asking for more information about Chiapas. Reed's reply is the jumping off point for this post.

As for your question about Chiapas being a 'hotbed of revolt', where we were appears quite safe and full of European tourists. One tour driver told us that since their uprising in 1994, the Zapatistas have become an established political force in the Maya areas. As a result of their activism, each pueblo now has its own health clinic and schools (we saw and commented on them), which they didn't have before.

I think the federal government now pretty much leaves them to themselves, while nonetheless providing funds for community services. Sounds like good politics on the part of the Zapatistas. In fact, our waiter at our hotel in Palenque complained that the Maya pueblos get all the government money while his pueblo, on the edge of the city, gets none.

Mayan children in a 'remote' pueblo 

Much of the eastern 'wedge' of Chiapas that juts into Guatemala, which seems 'remote and so far removed from contemporary society', is included in the Reserva de las Montes Azules (Blue Mountains Reserve) and other, smaller reserves.

At first glance, these Maya preserves do seem 'remote', but the global world has arrived. 'Ecotourism' is a major business. Tour buses run daily from Palenque—which is full of international tourists—to a number of organized ecotourism sites run by local Maya communities.

Jane and I went on a half-day trip from Palenque to Agua Azul (Blue Water), so called because the minerals make the water appear turquoise.

Agua Azul 

We ate lunch at an open-air restaurant by the river, operated by the local Maya community. It certainly looked 'remote', but we laughed to see the outdoor dining area dominated by the ubiquitous large-screen TV providing live CNN International coverage of the rebellion in Egypt. 

When I went to Yaxchilán, the boatman piloting our launch—the only way to get to this 'remote' site—pulled out his cell phone to chat, in Maya, with his buddies up the river. In my photo of the launches on the beach, check out the red and white radio or cell tower in the center of the background in the jungle on the Guatemala side of the river. 

So much for 'remote'. 

We generally don't enjoy being around large numbers of tourists. San Cristóbal was full of Europeans and we felt like we were at an international mall or Disneyland instead of in Mexico.

But during the group tours from Palenque, I decided to make use of the opportunity to learn about the points of view of some of these Europeans. On the tours, we were surprised to meet many eastern Europeans—Russians, Romanians, Latvians, Czechs, Slovakians, Ukranians—as well as many western Europeans—Italians, French, British, Belgians, Germans, Swedes. And virtually all spoke fair to excellent English. 

My Polish seat mates on the trip to Yaxchilán—an opthomologist and his psychiatrist wife—told me (in fluent English) about their travels in southeast Asia and North Africa, places I haven't visited. Their ability to travel— and live—freely conveyed a very different Eastern Europe from my memories when Jane and I traveled behind the Iron Curtain a couple of times in the late '60s and early '70s! And they told me that English—and cell phones—are essential in the global world of the Internet!

By the way, the eco-lodge near Bonampak, Escudo Jaguar ("Shield Jaguar," which is the translation of the Maya name of the Palenque king, K'inich Pakal ) has wooden cabins, considerably more secure than the tents you stayed in by the Caribbean at Sian K'an on the Yucatán Peninsula.

A number of the Europeans on my bus got off there to spend the night and take a five-hour hike in the jungle the next day. Some were then going on to Guatemala to see the Maya city of Tikal. My Polish companions commented that it was all very 'exotic'!

What a contrast of cultures to be in these ancient Maya sites, in the 'remote' jungle of Chiapas, and in such a global community at the same time!