Gratitude

In my journal I’ve gotten into the habit of including highlights and lowlights every few weeks. It’s a record of life in list-form, I guess. But I like to think of it as things for which I am grateful. Trying to develop a keener sense of gratitude in recent years, I now realize that whether an event is “good” or “bad,” I can learn and grow from it. Here, then, are a few things for which I am grateful from the month of April.

--Spending time with my niece Natalie
--Time for games—Scrabble, Cribbage, and Mexican Train Dominoes
--Serving old folks a home-cooked meal at the weekly soup kitchen
--Holy Week festivities, Latin-American style
--The friendliness of the people around me
--My cooking class with Tonya
--Street food, especially enchiladas, tamales, tacos, and gorditas
--Fresh strawberries and fresh blackberry yoghurt
--Our friend Linda’s sweet tooth, which means great desserts for us
--Meeting Luisa, another list-keeper like myself
--Listening to the thunder and watching the lightning from our glass-paned bedroom
--The public library, with books galore and a language exchange twice a week
--Time to read
--Bob’s banjo, guitar, and ukulele tunes
--Great buys: a $2.00 antique tray and a $2.00 leather backpack
--Climbing the pyramids at Teotihuacan and sitting at the top
--Breakfasts with rooftop views in Patzcuaro and Mexico City
--Lavendar cotton candy and lavendar jacaranda trees
--Murals by Diego Rivera and paintings by Frida Kahlo
--Puking in public on my birthday, something I haven’t done since 7th grade (Okay, I’m not yet grateful for that experience nor did I learn anything from it except to stay home when feeling sick)
--Hot flashes (Is this the beginning of The Change? I hope so!)
--Discovering painter Octavio Ocampo’s paintings on Janitzio Island

“Forever Always,” by Mexican-born Octavio Ocampo, 1989 (Look closely—there’s more than meets the eye in Ocampo’s magical style of superimposed details within the images)

A New Guitar from Paracho

Last week Bob and I took a three-day trip to the state of Michoacan, west of the state of Guanajuato, where we live. One of the reasons for the trip was to visit the village of Paracho, located in the Sierra Madre Mountains. Paracho is famed in Mexico for its quality guitar-making. Many professional Mexican musicians have their instruments crafted by Paracho artisans, and Paracho guitars are sold throughout the U.S. and Canada. Since we could only bring a few instruments with us from the States (Bob brought a banjo and ukelele; I brought a ukelele), we planned to find a guitar in Mexico. In Paracho, the guitars are hand-made in small family-run operations. After visiting five or six shops, chatting with the guitar-makers, and trying out lots of guitars, we bought the one that Bob fell in love with from a man named Jorge Alfaro Carrillo. Jorge works with his brothers in their company named, ironically, "Guitarras San Miguel" after their father and grandfather. Jorge made Bob's guitar himself, about a year ago, from a native Mexican wood.

Bob is a happy musician these days. He can hardly get enough of his new instrument. He loves the way the guitar plays and the rich sound it makes. This weekend we'll be joining Natalie in Mexico City. Natalie also bought a guitar since coming to Mexico and is looking forward to learning some tips from her uncle Bob.

Enchiladas Verdes

For my birthday gift this year, Bob arranged for a two-hour cooking class in our home once a week. Today was my first class. I made enchiladas verdes, along with a cucumber, carrot, and jicama salad. It was all delicious, if I may say so myself.

My teacher is an old friend of Bob's named Tonya. Tonya cleans and cooks for our friend Linda three days a week. Tonya grew up in San Miguel and has ten brothers and sisters, a husband, two sons, and three grand-daughters. What I love about my teacher, other than the delicious meals she's going to help me prepare, is her cheerful personality and the fact that she speaks no English. This means I get to learn Mexican cooking and practice my Spanish at the same time. In addition to building my vocabulary, today I learned that THEY SAY that if you cry while peeling an onion, it means you are a jealous person. I learned that you can place a bowl of water beside the cutting board in order to cry less. I learned that you don't need to use hot water to wash the dishes. I also learned how to get the bitterness out of a cucumber by cutting off the end and rubbing it against the remaining portion of the cucumber. This morning I went downtown with Tonya to see where she buys fruits and vegetables, chicken, tortillas, and other ingredients essential for daily sustenance. We bought the tiny green tomatillos needed for the salsa in today's dish. Next week I'll do my own shopping, and Tonya is going to teach me to make black beans, rice, pica de gallo, and a milk and rice drink that Natalie loves, spiced with cinnamon. For now, I'm thrilled to have a large pan of leftover enchiladas verdes in the fridge. It's good we have no scale in our apartment!

Our San Miguel Abode

We're subletting an apartment from a couple our age who live in San Miguel for six months each year. Katrina Greene teaches yoga, and David Freeman leads bicycle tours. For four months, they lead tours in Alaska, and during the remaining two months, they bike all over the world. They've been doing this for some years now. They have a vast book collection, including cookbooks, which we are enjoyng a lot. Our location is ideal--in only a few minutes we can walk to the central square and market.

Our rooftop, on the third floor, is our favorite place, with its awesome views of the city. It's a great place to read by day and to watch the sunset by night. Twice a week I water the plants that line all sides of the rooftop. That's our one responsibility as tenants.


Our main living area is on the second floor of the building. The living room is at the top of the stairs with two bedrooms (our "work" rooms), the kitchen, and the bathroom surrounding it. There's a painting studio or storage area beyond the kitchen in the back of the house.

Our kitchen is a typical Mexican kitchen with ceramic dishware and open shelving. Drinking water is delivered regularly, and we wash fruits and vegetables in an anti-bacterial solution.

Our bedroom, on the rooftop level, has a high ceiling and huge panels of glass on two sides. We hear all the sounds of a Mexican town in the early morning--dogs, roosters, church bells, garbage collectors, peacocks, and a symphony of other birds.

Since we have three bedrooms, we each have our own work space. Bob's music room and computer station is light and airy. My writing and meditation room has soothing Asian decor, an exercise ball, and an inviting arched closet.

We are quite happy in our humble abode.

Locked In

A few years ago, after a 41-hour train trip through Croatia, Bosnia, and Serbia, Bob and I wearily arrived home in Romania at six o'clock in the morning to discover that we were locked out of our apartment. Our landlord, who had come in and locked a dead bolt that we never used, was away in Germany. After help from the police and neighbors, we finally got inside.

This time we were locked IN! It was Wednesday, March 31st, after our first night in the lovely apartment we are renting here in San Miguel. Niece Natalie, Bob, and I were setting out on a day trip to the city of Guanajuato to see the famed Mexican mummies (Museo de las Momias). We had a bus to catch, and 30 minutes to get to the station. Bob put the key in the door, and voila--nothing happened. The three of us each tried fidgeting with the key, but to no avail. We had to think fast. Natalie went to our third-floor rooftop level and pondered whether she could shimmy down the iron window grates protecting our second-floor apartment windows. Bob vetoed that idea while I tried to contact a neighbor. Instead, Natalie hailed down a passerby and asked for his help. Bob slipped the key under the door for the man to take. It worked! He was able to jiggle the key in the key-hole until we were freed. The man crossed himself, saying "Gracias a Dios." Had we been told there was a trick to unlocking the only door to our apartment? No, we had not.

Our day in Guanajuato unfolded smoothly, not like it had started out. This morning, I opened up Eat, Pray, Love to chapter 54, where I left off yesterday. The first thing I read was that Elizabeth Gilbert was locked IN one morning at the ashram she was visiting in India. I love coincidences, so I was quite happy, but not surprised, to read of another traveler's experience similar to mine. I am reminded that every day there are adventures waiting to emerge. When I lived in Palestine, I learned to expect the unexpected. "Expect the unexpected" became one of my mantras. Expecting the unexpected helps me face the more challenging adventures of life with patience and a sense of humor. For now, we will not use the dead bolt until we meet up with our landlord.

Here is Bob, trying his best to turn our apartment key in a worn-out locking mechanism.

A happier moment, when we first arrived at our new apartment, not knowing there was any problem with the door lock.