Been There Voices: Susan Larson - Singing while the glue dries

Singing Cobbler

A few days ago, my dog, Paco, chewed through yet another expensive new leash. I sighed and looked at all of the unusable leashes draped over the railing. Then I realized that I could take it to the little shoe repairman whose shop was nearby. Of course, here in my little village of 11,000, everything is close at hand.

When I got to Humberto’s dark, dusty shop, I found him watching something on his phone, with shoes,  belts, and all sorts of leather things stacked up, filling the tiny shop. But the back walls were covered in posters advertising the events where he had performed. Some posters showed a very youthful and handsome man, while others were of a proud older gentleman.

Using my broken Spanish, I explained my dog had chewed through yet another leash and could he sew it up? Smiling at me, he answered in English that he could, and I could just wait. His first step was to apply industrial strength glue, and while we waited for the glue to dry, I asked him if he sang? Putting the leash in the sun to dry, he picked up his guitar and serenaded me, looking into my eyes the entire song.

The glue had dried by then, and he patiently started stitching the leash over and over again, sharing with me the great difficulties local musicians had during the pandemic when everything was shut down. People weren’t getting shoes repaired, and there was no music in his life or money in his pocket. Of course, I bought a CD too.

Reflecting on this later, I realized how different life is outside of the hustle in the USA. Every activity is monitored by computers, from doctors to check out people, Woe be it, to those who can’t keep up. Yes, I am grateful for my simple life here.

No one is going to serenade me back “home” while the glue dries. 

*** Susan Larson, Ajijic, Jalisco, MX, explorer of the edges

Click here for more about Susan and other Been There Voices  

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Been There Voices is about us, our lives, our successes and failures, our joys and sorrows, our lessons and our gradual, hard-won wisdom. We have survived and thrived throughout whatever has come our way.

The reasons are arbitrary and not intended to dismiss half of our population, however, this project focuses on the stories of women, and begins with fourteen women, well-polished grains of sand on the beach of life, tumbled by the waves of time until their light shines through, offering their stories, joys and sorrows, to the ocean of wisdom.

Love Letters to my life #16: Dancing with InDesign

 

by Joyce Wycoff

(We know the day we were born, but most of us do not know the day we will die. This love letter to my life is written on the day I've designated as my death day, the 17th of every month, 

and reminds me to be grateful for my incredible life.)

I love learning … when it’s easy … when I can quickly use what I’ve learned.
I’m a practical learner … an impatient, practical learner.
A friend with the same proclivities calls us “5-minute experts.”
We can skim the cream and talk a good game.

InDesign said, “We’ll see.”

I wanted to make a book I could hold in my hand.
The idea came easily.
The cover showed up in a flash.
I had done this before. Piece of cake.
Cost-per-unit finances required a new path.
I wanted to follow the old one.
                                                It failed.

With trusty Photoshop in hand, I tried again.
                                                It failed.
The Learned Ones said, “You need InDesign.”
“No, I’ll do it my way,” I replied.
                                                It failed again.

I put the project aside ...
Nasty thing that wouldn’t co-operate.
It whimpered and whined until I said, “Alright already!”
Giving in, I bought InDesign, uploaded it ...
Prepared to begin again.
It was Photoshop’s cousin; bound to be simple.

    Step 1 … one week … two weeks …
    Buy an online course …
    27 videos later:
    Step 1 … one week … two weeks …
    Microscopic aha.
    Page 1 … 2 … 3 … on a roll.
    Page 4 throws up a new rule, refuses to go on.
                                                Start over.

More videos, a thousand Googles, and a pretty aha.
Redo pages 1, 2, 3.
Even 4 works.
But, now I don’t like any of them.
Redesign.
                                                 Start over.

Starting to see daylight, excited, want to wrap text.
Simple, but doesn’t work.
Rewatch videos. Retry.
Rinse and repeat. Again. Again. Again.
Something is wrong.
                                                 Start over.

Eureka! Problem solved. Clarity at last.
Progress made.
30 pages in, decide to test.
12 broken links.
23 overtexts.
                                                 No partridge in a pear tree.

Back to videos. Back to Google.
Curse internet for storing answers from 2012.
Reread current answer 5 times trying to understand geek-speak.
Search for Link Panel … pictures would be nice.
Play with preferences.
Undo the mess preference changes made.
Fix all the errors committed along the way.
Day 746 (it seems) exported my first pdf.
                                                   Success.

I love learning new stuff!
 
*****
Assuming InDesign and I keep dancing, eventually there will be a book about my two years in Mexico … why I moved there, some of the beauty I saw, a few of the things I learned, and, I hope, a deeper understanding of why I left a place I loved.

The book cover is above and here is the Contents page and the opening spread for Chapter 1.

Another surprise from Mexico

As sometimes happens, snafus occur at the worst moments. This morning, about an hour before one of the biggest days of the year for Mexico, the power went out here in Ajijic. I’m sure a lot of the people involved with the Good Friday passion play were affected much more than I was. 

 

For me, it was a minor setback to find that the camera battery I thought was fully charged, had somehow discharged, and the one in my camera was only half full. So, without power to recharge, I was off to watch the Passion of Christ play in the church square knowing that I couldn’t take hundreds of pictures as I would normally.

The square was filled with people vying for scraps of shade. A long line of people stood side-by-side in the thin shadow of a palm tree, while others arranged ancient gray-metal folding chairs in rows around the stage. Soon an angelic aria wafted from the blue curtain backdrop where people readied for the coming performance. Unfortunately, a generator roared to life behind me, making it impossible to hear or see the performance as the crowd almost instantly swelled to hundreds blocking my carefully chosen square of shade which had once had a clear view of the stage.

I notice a tattered Mexican flag flying at half-mast while the silver cross at the top of the church caught glints from the intense sun. Seeing little but the backs of people's heads and the sky above us, I moved toward the plaza, stopping to watch a man sell empanadas … piña, crema, fresca … next to the churro cart. Abundant food is always a part of Mexican celebrations. The plaza was relatively empty so I settled onto a concrete bench to wait for the parade to come.

I was there purely as a photographer and observer. While raised in a Christian environment, I left the church many years ago and the rituals and celebrations aren’t a big part of my life. However, here in Mexico, the Church is a major part of the culture and I wanted to experience it ... and take pictures. 

 

 

 

 

 

As the gates to the church square opened, and the play continued into the streets, I began to take the few photos my battery life would allow. It took awhile, but soon I began to realize how much the re-enactment was touching me. It’s a story I’ve lived with my entire life, but watching men carrying crosses through the streets, their backs red with whippings, made the story more real and moved me in a way I did not expect.

Mexico continually surprises me. But, then, there are also always the dogs. If any of you want to know ... and see ... more about Holy Week here in Mexico, I highly recommend this blog:

View From Casita Colibrí ... gringa musings from a rooftop terrace in Oaxaca

Easter Dog

Day of the Dead #7: A death experience in Guanajuato

"Guanajuato Afternoon: by Joyce Wycoff

Three years ago almost to the day, I took an excursion to Guanajuato from San Miguel de Allende. It was a lovely day of touring a city so close in geography, yet so different from San Miguel in energy and culture. It wasn’t Day of the Dead, but I had a close encounter with death … fortunately, not my own.

Guanajuato (GTO) is a college town and feels young and vibrant. Which is good since it’s also a step-filled town built on hills with delightful, challenging alleys snaking ever upward. Guanajuato was where I realized that Mexico’s relationship with death went far beyond the holidays in November. It was there I visited my first panteón as well as  the “mummy museum." 

 

The colorful panteón we visited was crowded with graves and walls of burial nooks. It made me realize I was missing the nuances of burial terminology. Here’s an attempt to sort them out (corrections appreciated):

Columbarium at Guadalajara Panteón Municipal

Cemetery … where people are buried (presumably after they died.)

Grave … below ground burial.

     Casket … the structure that holds the remains of the deceased.

     Vault … sealed outer container that protects the casket.

Tomb … above ground burial.

     Mausoleum ... independent above ground structure built to hold the remains of a person or persons.

     Tomb … the structure holding the remains is also called a tomb.

     Cremation niche … where ashes are stored, usually in an urn.

     Columbarium ... a place for the respectful and usually public storage of cinerary urns

     Crypt … burial spot, built to hold a casket in a concrete or stone chamber.

So, the wall of niches in the Guanajuato panteon is called a columbarium. Here’s a description from the blogger at Nomad Women, Because Experienced Women Travel, talking about the columbarium in San Miguel de Allende:

"I like Mexican cemeteries. To me, they seem very real and very human. They are not sterile, tidy places. They are not manicured. They are certainly not uniform. They are a reflection of the life that came before them, the untidy lives lived by the people that now inhabit—and perhaps haunt—them.

"The Mexican graveyards I know and love are much like life in this rich and colorful country—varied and many, often untidy, frequently haphazard, exuberant and overdone."  

You can feel it when you enter a cemetery in Mexico. The ones I’ve been in are not quiet, serene, deserted places. Even when empty, they pulse with a kind of energy that sometimes makes me feel like an intruder.

Onto the Mummies

Sign for Mummy Museum. Click for more info.

Mummy

Mexico experienced a cholera pandemic in the 1830s - 1840s. Hundreds of thousands of people died and some of those people who were buried in Guanajuato became “mummies” because of the dry climate. Over the years many of them were discovered and had to be reburied. 

However, there was a tax to be permanently buried so many of the bodies were just stored until the Museo de la Momias de Guanajuato was opened. It’s a weird experience seeing the shells of former lives in such non-living detail: shoes, clothing, facial expressions on adults, children, infants. 

Street in Guanajuato

 Beyond cemeteries and mummies, Guanajuato is a wonderful walking town with vendors dotting the streets and surprises around every corner.

Diego himself!

The Diego Rivera museum is housed in a home he had lived in early in his life. The exhibit was a fascinating review of Rivera's art and made me appreciate the artist beyond the muralist.

Frida and Diego together again

While Diego was being honored, there was only a glancing mention of Frida. Down the street, however, I found a cafe that had not forgotten her.

 And,

of course,

Elvis

Lives!

There were lots of little surprises found in GTO, but one that amused me a lot was a wall stencil of Elvis. 

Just seeing his face on a wall overlooking the city was a shock but I was even more amused when I translated the words: I was not always this person. I have thought a lot about what the artist meant with this photo and portrait. I think it reveals a sense of humor and and awareness of the dance of life and death. It will always be one of the many reasons I love Guanajuato.

For what it’s worth:

El Panteon de Belen is a cemetary in Guadalajara thought to still have spirits walking around at night. Guided night tours are even available.

More about Day of the Dead:

Day of the Dead, Episode #1: Beyond pumpkins, candy, costumes and spider webs

Day of the Dead, Episode #2 Why all the fancy-dressed skeletons?

Day of the Dead, Episode #3: Three Deaths

Day of the Dead, Episode #4: Honoring our many mothers 

Day of the Dead, Episode #5: 3 quick overview videos 

Day of the Dead Episode #6: The Legend of the Cempasúchil Flower

 

29/100

Aquí en México

The face of Mexico

What a cultural feast the last two days have been!

Alcatraz (a flowering plant)

Art Auction. There was an art auction in the plaza to benefit two local families, hosted and auctioned by well-known local artist and muralist Efren Gonzales. I, of course, did not plan to buy anything, but, of course, did. I fell in love with this painting by Xill (pronounced Jill) Fessenden. It positively glowed and I was delighted that it was somewhat within my budget.

Mariachi concert. I’ve never been a fan of mariachi music so I decided to attend a concert, especially since this music originated in my new home state of Jalisco. There’s definitely a difference between concert level mariachi music, recognized by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage, and what I was used to in restaurants. 

There were ten musicians playing violins, guitars (including a vihuela, a high-pitched, round-backed guitar and a bass guitar called a guitarrón that provide rhythm) a trumpet and a Mexican folk harp which the harpist played with blinding speed like a jazz instrument during one solo. It was the older guy’s birthday (I think) and he sang a couple of solos. What a voice! He could hold a high octave note so long most of us were growing uncomfortable.

Another treat of the concert were songs by Lola, La Tequilera (as far as I can tell, that means someone who can make tequila.) While I didn’t know what most of her words were, she belted one out with such force and emotion, it made me weep. And to top it off, costumed dancers who were a delightful sweep of color and rhythm.

What made the evening truly special, though, was that the mariachis were backed up by a local high school symphony who were given opportunities to solo. It may sound trite, but the evening had so much heart.

Celebration. To celebrate International Love and Gratitude to Water Day in honor of the work of Dr. Masaru Emoto, there were many ceremonial activities at the malecón including dances, poetry, and music. It was a feast for the senses and here are a few photos. Unfortunately, I don’t have names for these people yet but hope to soon.

A woman read a poem by Nezahualcoyotl, "Coyote who Fasts") (April 28, 1402 – June 4, 1472) who was a philosopher, warrior, architect, poet and ruler of the city-state of Texcoco in pre-Columbian era Mexico.  In the poem there is a listing of things found here in Mexico, thus the refrain “Aquí en Mexico."

According to Wikipedia: Nezahualcoyotl is best remembered for his poetry, but according to accounts by his descendants and biographers, he had an experience of an "Unknown, Unknowable Lord of Everywhere" to whom he built an entirely empty temple in which no blood sacrifices of any kind were allowed — not even those of animals. However, he allowed human sacrifices to continue in his other temples.

Here are a few more photos from the ceremony. 

 

 

 

Going away present

One of the things I will miss about the Grass Valley area is the Nevada County Camera Club. Every month we had a chance to learn from a stunning photographer and have two pieces of work critiqued. The critique sessions were always golden, not only for the suggestions received on my own work, but for new perspectives on all the works.

April was the last meeting I got to attend and I was thrilled to find out after I got down here that both of my photos submitted for that month were picked as best in category. 

Here are the photos which were honored:

 Casa DeBlanc (best color) - friends stayed at an incredible house when we were here in Ajijic in February. As we were walking to the door one day, the light coming through a window bowled me over.

San Francisco Magic (best creative interpretation) - This beautiful city is a dance of fog and light. Compositing two separate photos helped me capture the magic. 















Thanks, NCCC for all the great lessons and friendship and the going away present.

¡Qué Día Estupendo!

Toniná

 Take away the sound of a weed wacker in the background ...

Take away the tin roofs shining white in the sun ...

Take away the Mexican flag flying over the distant military base built to control the Zapatistas in the 1990s ...

And suddenly you could be over a thousand years back in time, standing on the steps of Toniná scanning the horizon for a possible war party from Palenque. 

This lesser known Mayan ruin has many unique archeological features but what made it truly special was the silence and solitude and the spectacularly beautiful and peaceful setting. For more details: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toniná.

Kath Hockey at the top.

The tour started this morning when my new neighbor Kath (English artist living in Spain) and I met Julian (New Zealand, avid traveler) and Fernando (traveling Tijuana coffee shop owner) and set off through the Chiapas highlands for Toniná. The day was glorious and the winding, mountainous, speed- bump-laden road was the responsibility of Homero who did quite a fine job of weaving us through the dozens of Mayan villages that line the road for the two-and-a-half hour trip to Toniná.

Fernando Fortis is young enough
to scale the last little bit of the
pyramid that the rest of us
wisely decided not to do.

The rainy season has just passed here and the pine forested mountains are a shimmering green with flowering trees sparking the hills.  The trip was filled with language ... new words and phrases and Spanish at all levels from my barely basic Spanish to Homero's excellent Spanish as well as a Mayan language and some Italian and English. 

My favorite idiom came from the Brits ... or actually ex-Brits ... "splash out!" Basically you "splash out" when you buy something a bit expensive or something that stretches your budget.

At the top ... starting to wonder how to get down.

Toniná is built in a series of levels and each one offers something new to look at and spectacular views of the surrounding valley and mountains. Before you know it, you are several levels up and the top level calls to you. The steps here are much are shorter than other pyramids I've visited ... but there are a LOT of them and, seemingly, always more.

Finally we reached the top and after reveling in the view, I begin to wonder what it would take to get a helicopter to rescue us ... it is a LONG way down ... and, somehow, never as much fun as going up.

Julian Haworth at the top ...
fortunately he did not take one
more step backward.

But down we went and then headed off to La Cascada "El Corralito"... a beautiful river cascading down a rocky channel into a pool large enough to swim in. The water was clear and bracing ... refreshing after a hot day of climbing the pyramid. 

After a nappy ride back to San Cristóbal, Kath and I decided to explore the local beverage ... posh or pox. I expected the burn of strong alcohol but the flavored posh which is infused with fruits or herbs was delicious and served in a ceremonial fashion in tiny cups surrounded by slices of orange sprinkled with coffee and two small pieces of incredible chocolate.

I'm not sure if it was the posh or the company since we had joined Mirella, a Mexican-American woman from San Diego ... but we wound up trying the un-infused white version and it burned but suddenly we were all laughing a bit more than normal.

All in all a truly stupendous day.

Dia de los Muertos: Zinacantán & Chamula

Zinacantán

Today was a completely different day … more like what I expected … beautiful, quiet and serene. Zinacantán is a picturesque valley of flower fields and greenhouses surrounded by lush green hills. Their incredible textiles echo the flowers of their valley.

Zinacantán

We found traditional dancers
at the center in Zinacantán

Click here for a short video of the dance.

Chamula Church

 

We also went to Chamula, a large village which enjoys a unique autonomous status within Mexico. No outside police or military are allowed in the village and Chamulas have their own police force. One thing they are very particular about is photography. Absolutely no photography is allowed within the church but we were allowed to enter after buying a ticket for a modest fee.

(For another point of view about all of this and
some great photos, click here.)

What we saw corresponded with the Wikipedia description although we did not see any curanderos or chickens:  

There are no pews in the church, and the floor area is completely covered in a carpet of green pine boughs and soda bottles (mostly Coca Cola). Curanderos (medicine men) diagnose medical, psychological or ‘evil-eye’ afflictions and prescribe remedies such as candles of specific colors and sizes, specific flower petals or feathers, or - in a dire situation - a live chicken. The specified remedies are brought to a healing ceremony. Chamula families kneel on the floor of the church with sacrificial items, stick candles to the floor with melted wax, drink ceremonial cups of Posh, artisanal sugar-cane-based liquor, and chant prayers in an archaic dialect of Tzotzil.

Idylling About ...

Reflections

Sometimes change comes in demitasse cups … sometimes it floods your world with Big Gulps.  The past several months have been of the Big Gulp variety as a new love entered my life, I sold my home in Arroyo Grande and began to live on the edge of a breeze, drifting here and there like a milkweed seed.  In between the lovely, weightless moments have been surges of terror, insecurity and a mad grasping for something … anything … that would make me feel some sense of control.

Gradually, I'm settling down, releasing the need to know what's coming next, letting go of expectations and thoughts of what life *should* be like.  At my age, there's no longer time to worry about what the world thinks, what the world expects, what the world deems "right."  The new love in my life handed me a platter of possibilities and said pick what you want … what you really want.  It's frustrating to realize that I'm not sure I know.  Even now … here in my seventh decade ... I still have to stop and think: do I really want this (whatever it is) or am I just operating on past conditioning?

My life no longer looks "normal." I don't have a "home" in the standard sense. I'm not married, employed, working to make the world a better place or even baking cookies for my grandchildren. I have almost nothing to hang my ego and identity on. If someone should ask me what I do, I'd stammer helplessly for an answer.  For the first time in my life I may be more of a "being" and less of a "doing."

In two weeks I will head off to Mexico to fulfill a dream I've had for most of my adult life … to learn Spanish.  It's a dream I've launched in fits and starts, taking Spanish 1 probably a dozen times or more, always convincing myself that I would never be really good at a second language so it was pointless to try.  Now, I've decided I don't care where I wind up, I just want to revel in a new language.  So, for seven weeks, I'll be in an intensive language course … four weeks in San Miguel de Allende (an art community in central Mexico), then three weeks in Playa del Carmen (on the beach in the Yucatan).  And, then, just for good measure a week in Merida, the capital of the Yucatan where wandering the streets will be my classroom.

As I've been thinking about this trip, I knew I wanted to blog about this adventure … therefore, I started looking for a new blog title and came up with Idylling About... with the idea of wandering about with little direction in a peaceful, joyful manner. A merger of "idle" and "idyll" building on the dictionary definition of idyll as a noun meaning an extremely happy, peaceful, or picturesque episode or scene.

Turning that noun into action yielded "idylling" -  joyfully living with little structure and forethought while wandering through art, love, imagination, spirit, peace, transformation, poetry, metaphor, connection and conversation. 

You're invited to join me and add your comment about how you are idylling through life.