not your grandmother's rock

Leslie Limon of Motherhood in Mexico has challenged the blog community to show her our Mexico.


I always thought that was what I was doing. 


But I know what she means.  She would like us to introduce her to our daily lives.


So, I will.  Let me start by introducing you to my laundress, Anita.


OK.  "Laundress" is not a Spanish word.  It is a good old Norman term that gives a worthy title to people who do real work -- and do it well.  Like butcher.  Or wheelwright.


A long-time friend criticized me recently for taking my dirty clothes to a laundry.  "I find it odd when any healthy man cannot do his own household chores."


I could easily wash my clothes.  The duplex has a very good washing machine.  And a sunshine-drenched line for drying.


It is the latter part of the paragraph that drives me to Anita.  Sun-dried is great for tomatoes.  But not for clothes.  The process makes them too stiff for me.

 

I am not certain what Anita does to my clothes, but she always returns them to me soft, sweet-smelling, and folded as if a retired Marine works in her back room.


All of that for twelve pesos a kilogram.  That is about 45 cents (US) for each pound of wash. 


There will undoubtedly be some reader in Mexico who will point out that I am being robbed -- that his laundress pays him to do his wash.  But, for me, it is a bargain.  Simply to avoid stiff shorts.


By now you should be asking, "So, where is Anita's photograph?"  The answer is simple.  She is a craftsman, not a model.


When I asked if I could take her photograph, her answer was as clear in Spanish as it would have been in English: "No."  But she allowed me to shoot her machines.

 

I told her what I was doing, and she rolled her eyes while shaking her head.  I can only imagine what she was thinking.


So, Leslie, that is a start of what my Mexico looks like.


It is skilled.  Humble.  And bemused by her expatriate customers.


Do you want more?  I have plenty of neighbors.  And most of them love the camera.