Several men were here in Mexico for the holidays and would be returning soon to their work in the US. One said he’s lived in the US for 21 years, another said since 1972, while others didn’t specify. All of them hoped that work in the US would improve in 2009.

Practically everyone had the same wish for Mexico, that the economic situation would improve. A local gardener wished that this new year would be “lleno de salud y trabajo, que es lo mas importante.” – full of health and work, which are the most important things.

An engineer at the University of Guadalajara commented on both the recession and on “calentamiento global,” or global warming. A middle school teacher spoke of his wishes for children who lack basic necessities.

I was telling my husband about the article when I realized I’d like to share it more fully, so here you are. And whatever happens in our world, I wish you, reader, a year full of health and meaningful activity, whether it’s technically “work” or not!

Hopes for a New Year is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

One of my friends grew up in Guadalajara. She always loved it when her grandmother came to stay with the family. The older lady was so sweet and gentle. One day, when her grandmother was out, my friend – then about 6 or 7 – went into her grandmother’s guest room for some reason.

She saw a betabel (beet) sitting on a table. It had been cut into and a slice removed from it. Well, she knew that beets belonged in the kitchen so like a good girl, she took it there.

Later that day, the grandmother asked my friend and her sisters, “Darlings, do any of you know what happened to my beet?”

My friend said yes, she had taken it back to the kitchen. The grandmother explained, ever so kindly, that she used the beet as makeup, to put some color in her cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The other story happened right here in San Juan Cosalá, or at least it began here. This particular friend of mine has lived here, in this village, all her life. Before she or her sisters were married, they all lived at home. One sister worked as a maid in Ajijic.

The sister – let’s call her Patricia, since that is not her name – took the bus to work very early every morning. Most of her fellow passengers were young fellows from Jocotepec, also on their way to work.

One morning Patricia overslept and the first thing she knew, the bus was stopped outside her house, honking for her. Mario, the driver, knew she belonged on that bus. She jumped up, tossed on some clothing, grabbed a rebozo (shawl) that was lying over a chair, and ran out to the bus.

Mario teased her a little but what do you expect? But then, once in Ajijic,as she began to get off the bus, Mario asked her about the adornment dangling from the back of her rebozo. She didn’t know what he was talking about, so she took off the shawl to look.

There was a large sostén (bra) attached to the shawl, stuck on by its fasteners. It wasn’t hers; she was quite slender. As my friend told the story, a ripple of amusement ran down the seats of the bus as Patricia got off.

Meanwhile, back home, my friend said that their cousin visiting from California was looking everywhere for her bra. “Where did you leave it?” she asked. “Right here on this chair,” her cousin said indignantly. And of course it wasn’t till Patricia got home from work that evening that the item was returned to its owner.

“And did Mario tease Patricia about that afterwards?” I asked. “Por supuesto,” said my friend, as she stopped giggling over her memories. The best translation of that phrase in this context would be: You better believe it.

A Beet and a Large Bra: Two Women’s Stories of Mexico 40 Years Ago is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

Do you remember the old rhyme that starts “for want of a nail, the shoe was lost?’”  Well, the last time I had my car serviced the mechanic put in the wrong size oil filter and that was the cause of all that happened next..

Last week I drove several friends from my Mexican Train group to Tapalpa for a little outing. We stayed in a lovely brand new cabana built to rent to vacationers from Guadalajara, Colima etc. The second day of our visit while we were touring around the area my car hit a rock in the road and began losing oil. It turned out that the oil filter had been knocked off.

We were in the middle of nowhere and none of us had a cell phone!  Well–don’t let that happen to you. It is the first lesson I learned from this experience. But we were amazingly lucky that a police car just happened to come down the road. The policeman radioed for a mechanic but the only one in Tapalpa said he couldn’t help us for a number of hours. So the policeman, and later his commandante, who he radioed for help, figured out the problem and took one of my friends into town to buy a replacement oil filter and oil to refill the tank. Then the police replaced the filter and accompanied us back to town to see that we were all right.

The next day, however, when we went out in the car, the new oil filter fell off and again we lost our oil! This time the owner of the cabana came to our aid with some of his friends and they discovered that a large bolt that attached the oil filter to the motor was broken. Later the mechanic told us that it was because the oil filter that the mechanic in Ajijic had put on was too big that it broke when I hit the rock.

Anyway, Carlos Barba, the owner of the vacation cabanas, spent hours trying to find a replacement for this part. Since we knew it would be days before  the car would be fixed, three of our group made arrangements for a driver to come down to Tapalpa to pick them up. One friend and I stayed behind.  The next day when Carlos arrived to tell us the status of my car, I was so eager to greet him that I fell over the rockers of a rocking chair and broke my shoulder.

So then this poor guy had to get an ambulance for me. I must report that the little village of Tapalpa not only had an ambulance, but paramedics who stabilized my arm, got me onto a stretcher, and drove my friend and me to the hospital in Guadalajara–and didn’t charge us a peso!  So if that isn’t a testimony to the kindness and wonderful care one can find in Mexico I don’t know what is. And I know some beautiful vacation cabanas with a very obliging owner if anyone is interested. They are Cabañas del Pastor in Tapalpa, Mexico. The proprietor is Carlos Barba. His cel phone is 333-189-2675.

6 Comments from the old blog:

• At June 12, 2008 7:28 AM,  sam said…

  Hey Hey,
  Although I’m glad to read this kind of stories, I wonder if this is the generalized attitude towards foreigners or -even more interesting- towards other mexicans…

• At June 12, 2008 1:42 PM,  Rosana Hart said…

  Of course, there are people who are kind like this in every country, and people who won’t lift a finger to help others!

  But from having lived in different cultures at different times in my life, it’s my opinion that Mexicans would not be so kind to us foreigners if it were not something already in the culture. I think of the hundreds of years of Spanish and then upper-class domination here, and I think that people helping each other out has been essential to survival.

  Also, these were older ladies, and the Mexican respect for age — and willingness to care for older people — might also play a part in this story.

  It would not likely have played out quite like this in the US!

• At June 12, 2008 7:40 PM,  wayne said…

  Sad story with a happy ending! During my extensive tour of Mexico last summer, I encountered many an instance like this one….where the local people almost pushed each other out of the way to be of assistance to a stupid foreigner. Thank you for publishing such an uplifting story.

• At June 13, 2008 11:39 AM,  Anonymous said…

  I don’t see any difference in the way people responded to this friend than how folks where I live in the USA would, except that where I live the oil filter wouldn’t have been put on badly. I’m assuming the Cruz Roja ambulance took the hospital; they do good work and are heavily subsidized. Think what would have happened if this were an emergency and the distance to the hospital so long – as compared to where most of us live outside of Mexico. Something to consider when choosing a relocation spot – find a place convenient to emergency responders/service. Generally, I find people similar throughout the world and Mexicans no more, no less hospitable than anyone else. Happy ending to the story.

• At June 13, 2008 7:31 PM,  Rosana Hart said…

  To the last person: Cruz Roja heavily subsidized? Only in their dreams. I have friends who are very active in the Cruz Roja, and they count their pesos very closely. They did well this spring when dozens, maybe hundreds, of lively young Mexicans spent long hours in the hot sun and traffic fumes at on the highways, at topes and traffic lights, in their annual fundraiser.

  That was here in the Lake Chapala area, and my friend who broke her shoulder was in a small town some ways from here, Tapalpa. I don’t know if that was actually Cruz Roja. I do know that when my husband fell off a roof and broke his rib not two and a half years ago, just a km or two from where we now live in San Juan Cosala, it was not a Cruz Roja ambulance that came, but one run by the municipalidad of Jocotepec. They charged us nothing, explaining that it was a cost the govt paid because otherwise poor people would be reluctant to call an ambulance. They didn’t refuse when we offered a small donation, though.

  As for people the same all over the world, well, we will have to agree to differ here. I have lived in enough other places to say that the Mexicans are extraordinary. (Just ask Sam, a Mexican living in France, about the French…)

  I do agree that the oil filter would have stood a higher percentage chance (though not 100%) of being put on correctly in the US or Canada.

• At July 09, 2008 8:41 AM,  mexpat said…

  Ahhh yes… and that is why we always buy our oil filters in the US and then take the filter and the oil to the mechanic to have him change it (rather than relying on his oil or filters). When my husband wanted to buy the oil filter in the US I thought he was crazy- turns out another expat had strongly urged him to do so.

Some Bad Luck Brings Out The Characteristic Kindness in Mexicans is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

I wonder if all Mexican baby showers are so much fun… I think that the sister-in-law who organized this one has quite a talent for it. Maybe some of the things we did are commonly done; I have no idea!

When we arrived, a name tag sort of thing was pinned on our clothing and it was explained that if you saw someone crossing her arms or legs, you could take the tag off and pin it on yourself. There would be a prize at the end for whoever had the most. I was pretty diligent but habits are habits, and soon I lost my tag. A few minutes later, one of the young Mexican women caught my eye and significantly nodded toward the woman sitting on the other side of me. Sure enough, her arms were crossed, so I gained a tag back — only to lose it an hour later in an unguarded moment. Two women were very good at spotting people and soon were festooned with tags all over their blouses.

Before the mother-to-be arrived, some 20 or 25 other women did (along with a bunch of babies and small children), and we were issued blown-up balloons and instructed to put them under our clothing to simulate pregnancy. We wore these for the entire party, in solidarity I suppose. The party was outside under a large canopy, at the home of the grandparents-to-be. A few drops of rain didn’t bother anyone, and all the brightly wrapped gifts were on a table set up safely away from rain. 

Once the guest of honor arrived and had been greeted warmly, we played another game. I was chosen to be one of three women sitting in chairs, in a row. Three other women were blindfolded, brought over, and handed unopened jars of baby food and spoons. Getting the drift, I said to the blindfolded woman standing in front of me, "Eres tu mi mama?" That gave her a chance to hone in on where I, her baby, was. At a signal, they opened their jars and started feeding their "babies." She and I won that game hands down. She could sure spoon it out of the jar fast and skillfully. Only a little went up my nose or onto my blouse, and I gobbled up the rest fast. If I had been the mother, no way would we have won! We each got a kitchen spoon as prize.

After a rousing game of musical chairs won by another gringa to her surprise, rolls of toilet paper made their way around the tables. We were each to take the length that we guessed would go around the pregnant belly of the mother-to-be. Almost all of us guessed too long, but two women tied for the prize of some plastic glasses, so it was divided between them.

There were more games, all of this accompanied by lots of jolly conversation and laughter. I really enjoyed being there, being included. I knew few of the women, but it didn’t matter. I joked and chatted with the ones near me, but when a group of Mexican women get into rapid, joking repartee, I only understand a word now and then! I had the chance to chat quite a lot with a sweet young woman with a baby and a four-year-old, as she was the second guest to arrive. Her husband is working in Canada, on a program organized in Chapala, and she is hoping to join him with the children.

There had been snacks on the table all along, and then food was brought out — plates of tortillas with pasta and sausage in a mayonnaise sauce piled on them. I had a little, and as it was approaching 7 PM by now, I decided to get out before the presents began being opened, which seemed likely to be a lengthy affair, as it was to involve guessing what the things were… we had already provided written clues. There was also something on the wall that looked liked a version of "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" was in the works. So I said my goodbyes and thanks, removed the balloon from under my blouse, and was given the little memento you see.

As I walked home, I thought about all the different women who had gathered together. Young, middle-aged, and beyond. Slender, medium, and large. Quiet and lively. Mexican and American. Mothers and not. There’s a saying here, "Cada cabeza un mundo," or "Every head a world." I had really felt that, and also the sense of connection that was palpable at times, from the fact of being women together, celebrating a woman’s event.

6 Comments from the old blog:

• At June 19, 2008 12:21 AM,  Steve Cotton said…

  I have been asked to give the sermon at church this Sunday. The topic is Celebration. As I have prepared the lesson, I realize just how much we Americans have lost the fun of getting together and celebrating one another. Even holidays have a tendency to be about stuff rather than about one another. I may work in this very nice story about spontaneity and fun. Thank you for sharing it.

• At June 19, 2008 6:50 AM,  Rosana Hart said…

  Steve, you’ve nailed one of the main things I like about living in Mexico… the enjoyment of life and of each other. What a great topic for a sermon.
  An American I know in the Lake Chapala area commented to me that the name-tag and the waist-measuring games had been played at a baby shower she went to.

• At June 24, 2008 9:15 PM,  wayne said…

  You know you have accomplished your goal and found your new home when you get invited to a Mexican’s home for a celebration. Only a few ever get that far. Congrats.

• At July 06, 2008 8:29 PM,  Gin said…

  I have been to many Mexican parties of all sorts and never have I seen the gifts opened while the attendees are there. Too bad you left early I would be curious to know if they opened the gifts for all to see. I have asked Mexican lady friends why they don’t open the gifts and they seem mystified as to why they would be opened during the party. They really had no answer.

• At July 06, 2008 8:47 PM,  Rosana Hart said…

  Gin, that is very interesting. I will see what I can find out, sooner or later.

• At July 25, 2008 12:20 PM,  Rosana Hart said…

  I asked a Mexican friend about gifts being opened at parties, and she said no, they aren’t… with one exception, kids at Christmas!

At a Mexican Baby Shower is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

When one of the men asked her if he could wash her car, she began by saying, "It’s hardly worth it because of all the jacaranda trees where I live… my car never stays clean." But when she glanced at him, the disappointment in his face caused her to change her mind and say "Sure, go ahead and wash it."

When she was done with her shopping, she paid him what he asked, some 25 pesos, and she added a tip. The man’s eyes welled up with tears and he told her that he had had no work in two days and his children had not eaten.

Yesterday, Kelly and I did some shopping at SuperLake, a grocery store on the main highway in San Antonio Tlayacapan which caters to foreigners. I’ve mentioned it before — it’s where I get a lot of things that a typical Mexican store doesn’t carry, like tamari, brown rice, and black tea.

There is an indigenous woman beggar who is usually sitting on the sidewalk in front of SuperLake or the liquor store next door. I often give her ten pesos and over time, we have developed a friendship. She has had some health problems which we have discussed, and she has showed me the medications  prescribed by the IMSS, the national health care system. Here is a photo of the two of us on the sidewalk in front of the community bulletin board, taken with her permission.

So after hearing my friend’s story about the man at Soriana, yesterday I squatted down and told my beggar friend that a Mexican had been talking with me about how sometimes people here don’t have anything at all to eat. Does this happen to her?

She nodded. On the days that she comes and begs, she can always eat something, but on the days she stays home, sometimes there is nothing to eat. She said she has to pay, not for only food, but also for her rent and light bills, as well as bus fares, from what she earns begging. I know she lives a bus ride away beyond Chapala someplace, not in the fancy high-rent districts.

Well, I wasn’t born yesterday and I knew that many poor Mexicans eat a substandard diet. But I was a bit taken aback by total lack of food. I asked if she had family that helped her. There was a bit of a catch in her throat as she said her daughter does sometimes. I got the feeling there was a sad story there, so didn’t pursue it. I asked  if she got any money from the government and she was astonished at the idea.

I went into Tony’s for lunch with friends, and told them what I’ve just written here. One of them said she never gives to beggars but will now. Lakeside has a small contingent of regular beggars, and most of them are not whining… the ones in the more anonymous atmosphere of Guadalajara tend to do desperate pleading which is pretty rare here. There’s a blind man stationed in front of  Tony’s who speaks English and I often say hello as I walk past him.

As I did my shopping a little later, splurging on a package of that nice Mexican brie I have just discovered and loading up on luscious golden mangos that are now in season, I felt wealthy. As we put our groceries in the trunk of the car, I said hi to a fellow standing in the parking lot with his dog. I had chatted with him before. He’s American and had been singing quite a lovely song in front of SuperLake once, begging in that way. Yesterday when I said hi to him, I reached in my purse for a coin. He said, "You gave me something before. I try not to ask the same people," and he went on to mention that he is homeless, which didn’t surprise Kelly or me. Haven’t seen any other American homeless here. I gave him the coin anyway. Any hunger is too much hunger.

Comments from the old blog:

• At March 21, 2008 2:07 PM,  makana gabriel said…

  Wow! You cut to the chase.
  While I have always been a giver, I have found myself sometimes getting irritated by the seemingly endless supply of palms outstretched.
  After reading this though, I looked at others through new glasses when we were in Ensenada yesterday.

• At March 21, 2008 2:45 PM,  Rosana Hart said…

  Here at least the supply of palms is not seemingly endless, and I think that helps me keep from being annoyed and separated.

• At March 23, 2008 3:46 PM,  macmember said…

  When I am in the Lake Chapala area, I always ask for a doggie bag. I either give my leftovers to people that are begging or animals. I always ask. "would you be interested in my leftover lunch?". I have not had anyone to say no.

• One day I had chicken alfredo with a salad bar at Salvadores. No way I could finish. I took it in a box and ask the lady that sits on the sidewalk close by if she would like it. She seemed thrilled. I hate to waste anything!!!! I am not too good to ask for a box, for leftovers, even if they think it is scraps. I always find little dogs to give it to.
  Beverly

• At March 23, 2008 11:50 PM,  Rosana Hart said…

  Good approach, Beverly. That day that I blogged about, I made a taco out of part of my fajitas and handmade tortillas and took it out to my friend still warm, in a napkin.

• At April 22, 2008 4:08 PM,  Joel R said…

• Hello. I reached your blog by chance, doing a search on Parras de la Fuente, a town you visited. I am mexican, living in Monterrey. After reading this post, I felt moved by your actions.
  I understand the feeling of "makana gabriel" about the seemingly endless supply of palms outstretched, I feel the same too, I guess a lot of people feel the same.
  I almost never give to beggars, specially if they are young. I feel that, if you want to help and give, there are more efficient ways to accomplish something.. going to a charity organization, like "Cáritas". You may found many more in your city (Guadalajara, right?). The reason of me not giving to beggars, is that sometimes they use awful tactics to get to your heart. For example, in Mexico City (not sure if they do the same in Monterrey, Guadalajara or other cities) You can go to some real aweful people and "rent" kids, to make people think they are yours, and look very needy. The worst part of this story is that the kids are under drugs. They force them to use drugs so they don’t cause any trouble. At the end of the day, these beggars return the kids to the person who rented them and he locks them away.This is an awful story, unbleliveable, I know. But it’s true. It was featured on a Televisa TV program, I doubt they made it up. So I prefer to give to organizations. The only time I give to people are when they are old, alone, and then I never give money. I give food, blankets and offer to take them to a safe place.
  But.. please don’t stop giving. If you have been blessed with more than you really need, then you can do a lot of good to the people that surrounds you.
  Goodbye!

There is Hunger Here is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

The party at Ruben’s was in full swing when we got there. A mariachi band in elegant light blue clothing was playing. There was food and drink. People were mostly sitting at tables, listening to the music and chatting. I waved at several of the women I had met last week, enjoying the feeling of knowing some people! We joined some of the women I’d met at one of the tables.

Ruben was everywhere, the gracious host. I don’t know his whole story, but he was born in nearby Jocotepec, he became an American citizen with excellent English somewhere along those 60 years, and now he runs this restaurant and is a bridge between the two cultures. The party reflected this, as there were both Mexicans and foreigners present, at least 150 people, I’d guess. Someone pointed out the mayor of Jocotepec to me.

So that’s one Mexican man.

The other? On our way home, we drove up a narrow street, with just enough room to drive between the curb on one side and the vehicles parked on the other. That was fine until we reached a point where a gray-haired man in dirty clothes was lying on the sidewalk, with his feet in the gutter. I got out and asked some kids if someone could help the guy move out of the street. The boys tried but he kicked at them drunkenly. I went over and spoke to him but I doubt he could understand my accent and I certainly couldn’t understand what he said, though I got the general drift and it wasn’t printable.

Backing up wasn’t an option as we had just barely gotten by a wide truck just before this.

A man appeared at the corner ahead and he began motioning to Kelly to drive forward past the drunk and his feet. Inch by inch, Kelly moved forward, just clearing the feet, which at least weren’t moving much. I found it harrowing, but we got past okay.

Two lives.

Two Mexican Men is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

We ended up chatting for quite a while, and it came out that Luis is a musician who sings and plays guitar. Kelly mentioned that he plays a digital sax that he had brought along on this trip, and Luis invited Kelly to sit in for a couple of tunes the next time he had a gig in Tequisquiapan, a very attractive town of about 25,000 where they live.

That happened last night. We drove through a soft evening just after sunset, most of the way to Tequis, as it’s called. It’s about 40 minutes from Bernal. I had understood that we would meet Luis at K’puchinos, where he was to play right in downtown Tequis, but as we were passing the development where they live, we decided to stop by and see if we could leave Cando there and catch a ride in. It was already arranged that we would spend the night in Cando in front of their house.

Neither Luis nor Andrea was home, but we chatted with their oldest son. He is 18, speaks very fluent English, and is applying to universities for next year. He reminded me of my nephew back in the U.S., who is also thinking about where to apply and who also has an easy manner with adults.

As we talked, Andrea arrived, coming home from the paint store. Luis had already gone down with their other two sons, who were to hang out in the central plaza with their friends. So a little while later, we went downtown with Andrea. We were glad that things worked out this way, things were popping downtown and parking spots were at a premium. Searching through narrow one-way streets in Cando in an unfamiliar town after dark isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.

K’puchinos is a cafe with tables out front on a walking street near the main plaza, plus a couple of large rooms full of tables. The whole place was full of lively people having a meal, a dessert, or drinks. Andrea guided us to the area in back, where Luis and another musician were setting up. She chose a table where we could see and hear the music well but were far enough away that conversation was possible. She had several friends in the cafe, and another musician, Juan Jose, joined us at our table.

Luis sings many Latin tunes and also quite a few in English. It was a delightful few hours. I chatted with Andrea and Juan Jose about many things. I can still hardly utter a truly grammatical sentence of any complexity in Spanish, but my ability to understand does seem to be improving a lot lately.

When Kelly and Luis improvised together, our conversation stopped, and I was pleased that Andrea, Juan Jose, and a number of other people in the cafe really liked Kelly’s playing!

Luis on the right, with Argentinian Jorge Revenko.

It was after one in the morning when we curled up in Cando on the quiet street in front of Luis and Andrea’s house. At 6:20 AM loud firecrackers went off, followed by circus music. Andrea later explained it was actually from some distance away. We dozed off again to the hum of a couple of neighbors mowing their lawns.

We had coffee and pastry with them around eight, before Andrea left to take one son someplace. Luis took the other two boys, plus a friend who had spent the night, someplace else, before going off to open the paint store, and we left for Bernal in Cando. As Luis and Andrea did a bit of quick planning, I thought how very easily any U.S. family with three active children would relate to the scene.

As for us, we feel more at home in Mexico, thanks to the warm hospitality of one family.

Andrea and Luis with two of their sons

Friendship and Music in Tequisquiapan is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

We entered past a bit of construction and a car to a sparkling clean and comfortable house with a lot of art on the walls, where we sat in the living room and visited. Besides the husband and wife and their young daughter, there were two of the wife’s brothers — visiting from another part of Mexico for Semana Santa — and a cousin on the husband’s side. Later another foreign woman joined the group, and as Kelly commented, it was quite the international salon.(I’m not listing their names because I didn’t think to get their okay, and besides it doesn’t matter to the story.)

Kelly accepted an offer of a small tequila, and got one that wasn’t so small. He nursed it for hours, while I had a delicious soft drink of grapefruit flavor and a few sips of his tequila. The others had beer or soft drinks. We munched on crackers with a tuna spread on top of them and little slices of sausage which we speared with toothpicks. These were in a delicious sauce of lime juice, onions, and tiny dabs of hot peppers.

Conversation ranged over many topics. None of the family are really fluent in English but often when Kelly or I didn’t know a Spanish word, we said the word in English and the father often knew the word. We’ve found our conversations with Mexicans helped along because so many of them can understand more English than they can speak. Our host listed off several words that he has trouble with the subtleties of pronouncing: bear, beer, bird, beard. Everyone (but me) thought it was pretty funny that I can’t roll my rr’s and thus can’t really even say my own name, Rosana, quite right! A single r at the beginning of a word gets a little bit of rolling. I got asked to say “ferrocarrill” which provided more amusement.

After some time, Kelly was invited to pull out his saxophone. The cousin is a musician as well, and he had set up a keyboard and brought his guitar. He said he hadn’t done a lot of improvising, that in the club where he plays it’s usually the more popular, commercial tunes that he does. But he and Kelly started improvising together, as that is how Kelly plays, and they immediately sounded like they had played together many times. We sat spellbound (at least I was, and the others sure seemed to be) for an hour or so as they played in a variety of styles. Our host asked Kelly to start with a jazz tune, and he began with “Summertime” which morphed into pure improv.

When the cousin moved from keyboard to a non-electrified guitar, I quietly suggested to Kelly in English that he unplug the sax for a softer sound. Our host thought I might be suggesting that Kelly stop playing and he objected. My favorite part of the music was what followed.

Eventually the cousin did a few solo pieces where he sang, and then our host sang “Perfidia” with the lyrics in Spanish. I sang along softly in English, glad that nobody seemed to notice I was doing it.

It was about 10:30 by now, and I was beginning to wonder if we should say our thank you’s and go home. But then our host said in Spanish, “We invited you for supper, and so now please come into the dining room.” His wife and her brothers were putting plates of pasta and meat in a subtly spicy sauce on the table. Conversation was lively and it was past midnight when the gathering ended.

Kelly and I walked home across the quiet streets of our town, enjoying being able to walk down the middle of streets with absolutely no traffic. Well, we did see one car being parked, but nobody else was about. Houses here and there still had lights on, but it was a very quiet town. People had told us it was safe to walk the streets at any hour here, and we did feel safe in our fifteen-minute walk.

A great evening! Oh, and the reason there are no photos is that we forgot to take the camera and for once the shoe was on the other foot: the wife was videoing segments of the evening.

I think that any foreigners in Mexico who made some effort (no matter how basic) to speak Spanish and to meet people would find themselves invited to events like this. Of course, the longer you stay in one place, the more you develop a network of friends, but even travelers experience the wonderful Mexican hospitality and warmth. At one point last night our host asked me to say something about my impressions of Mexicans, and I said that I thought they knew how to enjoy life more than other North Americans. It’s one of the main things I love about Mexico!

An Evening with a Mexican Family: Talk, Music, Food is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

Kelly has been a professional photographer and he is quite comfortable taking pictures in many situations where I would be way too embarrassed. But the other day, he snapped a picture of some women in a marketplace and noticed that one of them cringed a bit.

That got his creativity going. Since our digital camera allows you to hold it away from your body and view the image through a small screen on the back of the camera, he tried sitting on a bench and doing that.

Taking Photographs of Mexicans is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico

“The man at the propane place is a great example,” Kelly added. “Before he said a word about propane, he wanted to know if we had heard about the earthquake and tsunami in Asia. I told him we had, and he spoke of his concern for the people there in such a caring way.”

“Yeah, it’s like they often live more in their hearts than we Northern cultures,” I said. “Of course, that’s a gross generalization, but I still think there is something to it. There’s plenty of kindness north of the border too, but I bask in it here more.”

We thought of some of the kindnesses we had received in the past week or so.

• At the border, we’d gotten in the wrong line, and a Mexican man had explained the order of things to us very carefully.
• When I had been trying to withdraw some cash from an ATM card at a bank, the woman in line in front of me had stayed to show me what to do.
• When I had been browsing in an outdoor bookstall in a plaza in Ciudad Valles, Kelly had said to the bookseller that it was a pretty region. The man made a list for Kelly of some of the main tourist attractions and spoke very clearly so Kelly could follow his Spanish.
• I had asked a woman selling food in the marketplace (mercado) a question, and the way she spoke to me was so kindly that I glowed as I walked away.
• The man who runs El Bañito, where we are staying, had given us rides into town, offered to pick up things in town for us, patiently made sense of our bad Spanish, and much more.

I don’t think this list really captures what I am trying to describe, as it’s the easy, loving manner in which these things are done that is what makes living in Mexico so special for foreigners.

The Kindness of Mexicans is a post from: Mexico with Heart - Living, Traveling, and Retiring in Mexico