feliz el día del amor y la amistad

Today is 14 February.

For northerners, it is Valentine's Day. One of those days of the year when people in romantic relationships try to live out the ideal they wish the rest of the year would be.

For Mexicans, today is El Día del Amor y la Amistad. Same idea, but the broader concept of friendship is roped into the day.

So, no matter where you are, this is a little reminder that you still have time to do the right thing.

Oh, yes, and from me to all of you -- I hope you have both a pleasant Valentine's day and an even happier El Día del Amor y la Amistad.

a mere shadow of itself

Speaking of signs --

Well, we were yesterday. And how the pentimento effect reflects a bit of local Mexican history (letting the hidden lamp shine through).

Since I returned from Oregon last month, I have been primarily camped out in my house with very few excursions into the surrounding world. Not because I am cosetting myself in a covid cocoon, but because I have not been feeling well enough to resume my walking regimen. A visit to my doctor has eventually set all of that right. Or, at least, better.

I felt well enough last evening to walk through central Barra de Navidad to see what effect the latest northern tourist evacuation has had on the town. It turns out that very little was changed. Most of the restaurants I encountered were partially filled -- if not completely filled. I had to wait for 45 minutes for a take-out order because I was number 21 on the list.

Even though the restaurants were doing a good business, there were very few people on the malecon watching the sunset. I suspect that was because we have been having some rather windy afternoons this week, and last evening was no exception. The sea was a flock of lambs' tails.

One sight, though, caused me to pause. A couple of years ago, Barra de Navidad installed an eponymous sign on the malecon to reflect local civic pride. Each of the letters was adorned with a painting of some object associated with Barra de Navidad.

It was colorful. It was imaginative. It was lit-up at night. It was loved.

Maybe loved a bit too much. Tourists insisted on climbing it to have their photographs taken while riding astride its giant letters.

The first blow was the vandalization of the lights. Then the heft of tourists and the continual brine bath had their effects on the letters. They began rusting and then disintegrating.

The inevitable soon happened. The sign was carted off to die with dignity in some dingey warehouse.

For months, the old base stood empty reminding us of more care-free days. Then, in the summer of 2019, the sign was replaced with a poor understudy (sign of our times -- and town). It was a bit like buying a ticket to hear Placido Domingo sing and discovering he had been replaced with Harpo Marx. That is the temporary sign at the top of the essay.

We were assured by the People Who Eternally Offer Assurance that if enough money could be shaken loose from contributors, the old sign would be repaired and returned.

Not surprisingly, the old sign has never been repaired. Instead, the temporary sign that was installed almost two years ago appears to be past its pull date. The familiar combination of climbers and brine have caused the heart to collapse.

If I were a sentimental sort or one of those writers enamored of symbolism, I would probably interpret the failing heart as a reflection of what is happening in these villages by the sea during The Days of The Plague. But that would simply be solipsistic.

Even though I was sorry to see another sign give way to the inevitable fate we all face, I was on the malecon enjoying the setting sun, sea, and the reaassuring pleasure of just being alive in such a pleasant place.

That is what matters in the end. When the sign is eventually removed* (and it will be), Barra will still have all of the aspects that made me choose this place as my permanent home.

And sign or no sign, that is going to be good enough for me.


* -- I have one request for the people who may want to replace the sign. If you do, bring back the original sign. That English "I" in the temporary still jars me every time I see it, and I know I am not alone. Several Mexican friends have asked me why a Spanish sign is not on the malecon. If the heart sign is to be rehabilitated, simply replacing the "I" with a "Me" (for "Me encanta Barra") would be a simple and elegant solution.

letting the hidden lamp shine through

"Why can't things stay the same here? Every time I come down here, businesses have moved or closed."

I suspect those words are part of the national anthem of Seniorlandia. Old age and change are not natural dance partners.

In this case, they were part of a lunch conversation with an acquaintance who was about to depart on the Second Great Canadian Exodus. He was bemoaning the fact that so many of his favorite watering holes had closed or moved since he was here last year.

I thought the complaint was odd. Most of the places I regularly visit (Hawaii, Rooster's, Dra. Rubio) have been in the same place for as long as I have been here -- or nearly as long. But there are a lot of businesses that were in one location in 2009 and are now conducting trade somewhere else. For some, it has been several somewhere elses.

And then there are the numerous businesses that once were -- and now are no more. Just like many of the tourists who once came here, but who have permanently hung up their passports.

I was on my way to Men's Bible study this morning at Esmeralda's restaurant when I ran into the image jogger at the top of this essay. When I moved here, that wall formed part of the boundary of Ava's restaurant. It then became Esmeralda's restaurant before she moved a block away. It is now essentially a hole in the world of commerce.

The wall is the living embodiment of the intriguing phenomenon known in art as "pentimento." My university art history text defines it as "the presence or emergence of earlier images, forms, or strokes that have been changed and painted over."

"Pimiento" played an integral part in Season 3 of "The Crown" when the Queen used the term to subtly refer to Anthony Blunt, her Surveyor of the Queen's Paintings, who she had just discovered had been a communist spy while working at Buckingham Palace. "Well, I think I speak for everyone here when I say none of us will be able to trust or look at anything in the same way ever again."

There is something bittersweet about the way time has cut through the surface paint to restore messages from long-gone business operators to entice customers to enter and sample proffered wares.

And it is a reminder that no matter how we create an image of how we would like the world to see us, the person we truly are is always with us waiting for time to do its ultimate reveal.

The words the scriptwriter put in the Queen's mouth are a bit more blunt than mine: "Two different versions of the same person. Which might as well be two different people. The idealized version of themselves they want to be seen, and the less desirable person they really are, hidden away."

I am not certain the scriptwriter has it correct for most of us. The version of ourselves we hide may only be a less desirable version of their self in their own eyes. I suspect if we were just a bit more brave in allowing what we hide to be seen, we would discover that person may be far more interesting than the person we regularly trot out for public show.

Well, that is, of course, unless what is being hidden is a combination of Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Lizzie Borden. Some things are wisely left behind the curtain.

For most of us, though, adding a little bit of pentimento in our lives may be a good thing. Maybe, as interesting as that weathered wall on the corner.

getting my travel on

I am David Niven. Or I would like to be.

Not the David Niven of Corporal Miller in The Guns of Navaronne or Major Pollock in Separate Tables. The David Niven I want to be is his role as Phileas Fogg in Around the World in Eighty Days.*

Very few things in life make me happier than traveling. I like waking up in a new place each day looking for things I have not yet done. The more exotic the better.

I have long considered taking a round-the-world cruise that would rival the adventure Jules Verne wrote for Phileas Fogg. There are plenty of cruises to choose from. One that interests me is a 104-night cruise on Cunard's Queen Mary 2 that is a less-than-around-the-world tour because it skips the Americas. I assume out of viral caution.

But I have never booked one of those cruises for two reasons. The first is cost. For a mid-level cabin on the Queen Mary 2, I would shell out almost $50,000 -- per person -- for those 104 nights.

Assuming that the cost factor could be overcome, there are the last two words of the prior sentence to deal with. "104 nights." That is a long time to be cooped up on a ship even if that ship is daily sailing to new exotic locations.

One of the side-effects of the various lockdowns that have been imposed upon us by ourselves or our governments is the erosion of critical thinking. That is a nice way of saying I think our isolation from human contact has driven a good portion of us howl-at-the-mood mad. And what has happened to my travel obsession is Exhibit A of virus-induced lunacy.

I have a friend in Morelia who shares my love of travel. A couple of months ago, she sent me an email during the height of our viral incarceration to let me know there are still travel joys to be had. The attached brochure was from TCS World Travel whose high- level tours I have drooled over in the past.

Like most travel addicts, I enjoy reading brochures of offered journeys. When I lived in England, I would pick up a handful of glossy folders at the travel agency on base and then spend a weekend looking at places I wanted to visit. One of the most tantalizing were the Silk Road tours that I could not take at the time because the countries involved were captives of communist Russia.

The specific TCS offer that my Morelia friend forwarded to me was a round-the-world trip leaving Fort Lauderdale this October. A mere eight months away. With nine stops on five continents (leaving out Europe and Antarctica). And here is the best part. Rather than 104 days on the Queen Mary 2, this trip would take only 24 days. A little more than three weeks.

Obviously, this trip is not on a cruise ship. But the concept is not far from it. Instead of a ship, the passengers are flown from place to place on a Boeing 757. And even though a 757 is built for 200 passengers, the TCS 757 carries only 48.

Each passenger has a fully-reclining seat, but that is primarily for resting. At each stop, the passengers stay in local hotels in Fort Lauderdale, Cusco, Machu Picchu, Easter Island, Fiji, the Great Barrier Reef, Angor Wat, the Taj Mahal, the Serengeti, Tanzania, Petra, and Marrakech.

If you are starting to see dollar signs rolling up on the tally board, you have been sucked into the current of my subtext. That is what happened to me.

Each time I would say, "This sounds great," my Scottish-Canadian self would respond: "What does it cost?" I would then say, "I have to take this trip," and I would hear the same brogue-heavy voice remonstrating, "Let's see the full price."

So, I made a deal with my dueling selves. I would scroll to the price page and take the trip if it did not cost more than -- well, the figure is not important, but it was far more than I had ever paid for any trip. Luxury or not.

Having my "buy figure" in mind, I opened the tab with the basic price. And here it is. $99,950. In US dollars. But that is not the full cost. Because I travel alone, a single supplement is tacked on. That would be another $9,995. Plus the cost of the tours at each stop.

The gap between the real price and what I was willing to pay would have bought me about 18 cruises. It made the Queen Mary 2 look like a bargain.

Not to be outdone, last week my Morelia friend sent me another email informing me she had the perfect trip for me. Once again it was from TCS. But this time, it included a tour of some of the Silk Road countries I have wanted to visit since the 1970s.

"Legends and Empires" includes visits to Vienna, Tirana, Bucharest, Tblisi, Oman, Athens, but most importantly Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. I could almost smell cinnamon in the markets and hear the communist Chinese belt and road initiative tightening around the necks of the folks in Tashkent.

Because I am just like Charlie Brown with the many Lucies in my life holding the football, I had great hope that this trip would be less expensive -- if only because there were only 7 stops in 18 days. But I am also silly enough to believe that the federal government will one day balance its budget.

As I say quite frequently: I was wrong, This trip was even more expensive. $119,950. With a $11,995 single supplement.

But the exercise was not without benefits. I did get to adjust my mind to what the future is going to offer. That there will be adventures to be hand. And, if I am going to dream, why not dream big?

In the not-too-distant future, all of us journey-starved travelers will be lined up like those settlers racing to claim land in Oklahoma. When the starter fires his pistol, we will be on our way to places exotic.

Until then, there are plenty of places here in Mexico that I can visit on day-trips. One of them is the fascinating archaeological site of Guachimontes with its circular "pyramids." 

I will certainly not need a Boeing 757 to get there. And it will not cost twice as much as the first house I bought in Oregon.

I suspect you will find the report on it more interesting than a trip to the Taj Mahal. Even though the Silk Road still calls to me. 


* -- I would be satisfied to play the Cantiflas role. 



       

          

where everyone knows your name

Running a restaurant is always a risky business.

Running a restaurant that caters to northerners during a viral infection is even riskier.

Before I moved to Barra de Navidad, I lived in Villa Obregon for six years. When I lived on the other side of the bay, I ate most of my meals in restaurants. Because I was new in town, I wanted to meet as many people as I could in a short period of time. Restaurants seemed to be a good place to start.

So, I frequented The Red Lobster, Froy's, La Rana, Scooby's, Rooster's, and El Patio on a regular basis. My first criteria in choosing places to eat was not the food. I could cook for myself. What I was looking for were proprietors and staff who were open to conversation and who were willing to share their perspectives with me. 

I suppose what I was looking for was a living version of the attitude embedded in the "Cheers" theme song. You know:

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name
And they're always glad you came

One of my go-to guys back back then was Aaron. Even though he was young, he was a fellow Oregonian. That gave us a basis to start conversations. He also had a parade of interesting tales to share.

In the summer of 2009, he was running a bar-restaurant above a pharmacy on the plaza in San Patricio -- where the Santa Rosa disco is now located. But he had big plans of opening his own place. Complete with a brick oven to bake wood fire pizzas.

The pizza idea soon fell off of the plans, but he did open his own place -- and a business compound complete with bungalows. He and his newly-acquired wife Juliana named the restaurant side of the business La Oficina.

It soon became one of my regular stops. Juliana prepared pleasant pub food dishes (both sandwiches and full meals) and they both played charismatic hosts to their primarily northern patrons. Live music was an additional draw -- for other customers.

When I moved to Barra de Navidad, I stepped out of the restaurant circuit for two reasons. The first was health-related. I wanted to start eating better. A constant barrage of restaurant dining was having obvious effects on my Alfred Hitchcock shadow.

The second reason was the architect-designed kitchen in my new house. The kitchen was supposed to be hers -- and it had that look. Both attractive and efficient. It was a far more pleasant place to spend time than in a restaurant dining room.

As most of you already know, the vast majority of northern visitors to Navidad Bay are Canadian. Last year, at the request of their government, a large portion of them left early. That left businesses who depend on their custom short of revenue.

This year, far fewer tourists returned to the area because of the virus. Once again, the Canadian government has urged its citizens home with some rather draconian measures if they do not return soon. A lot have. Once again, businesses reliant on northern trade are feeling the pinch.

I decided to visit Aaron and Juliana last week to get a feel for what is happening with their business. (I had already talked with three other restaurant owners who have seen a drastic drop-off in revenue -- even those restaurants who have successfully attracted Mexican tourists. Mexican tourism is down, as well.) It was obvious that La Oficina was feeling the same pinch. I was the sole customer the afternoon I visited.

The food was as good as it always is. Better yet, my conversations with Aaron and Juliana picked up as if we had seen one another the day before. In an attempt to diversify, Juliana has developed a series of condiments and dressings customers can take home to use in their kitchens.

I suppose the virus is at the crux of the empty restaurant syndrome. There are still quite a few northerners in town who have decided they would prefer to ride out the virus here rather in their home countries. But "riding out the virus" tends to keep a person housebound.

Here is my suggestion, and it is worth every centavo you have paid for it. By nature, I would prefer staying home whether or not there is a virus riding herd on our immunity. It is my way.

But, I have forced myself to get up and out of the house to meet new people and to talk with people I have known for years. That means visiting restaurants I have not been to for some time. I intend to do that. And to spend generously.

If you are not inclined to eat at your favorite dining spots, most restaurants are now providing take-out service. That may be a better option for you. Personally, I prefer dining out. I would rather cook than eat take-out.

My point is that there are plenty of good eating places in the area. If you have enjoyed those restaurants, either pay a visit or, if you wish to avoid contact with other people, order a meal to take home or to eat at the beach. You will enjoy it -- and the owners will appreciate your business.

And, I suspect, wherever you go, everybody will know your name.

meet tomás

Let's call him Tom.

Or, better yet, considering where he lives, let's call him Tomás.

One of the joys of living in Mexico is being awakened in the morning, not by city noises, but by the trumpeting of fighting cocks, honking geese, and gossiping hens from the lot across the street. A couple of months ago, a new voice was heard in the land.

Initially, I thought the neighbors had captured a chachalaca. But the call was not quite right. It sounded more like a turkey's gobble. For good reason. It was.

He was not the first turkey I have seen gracing a farmyard in Mexico. Even though they are not in every yard (like chickens), they are not rare. What is rare, at least, in this part of Mexico, is whole turkeys on sale at the many village butcher shops here. Not even, turkey parts. There are plenty of chickens,, but no turkeys on offer.

There is a bit of irony in that -- considering the history of domesticated turkeys. A lot of our foods were developed by the pre-Columbian tribes in Mexico. They were the first to develop the big three -- corn, tomatoes, and long chilies. Turkeys were also one of their accomplishments.

When the Spanish arrived, they stole and took home a lot of silver and gold. But they also took all of those exotic foods to Europe. It took time for corn and tomatoes to catch on, but turkeys were an immediate hit -- probably because the Europeans were already familiar with eating game birds.

From the early 1500s, the Spanish king decreed that a minimum number of turkeys would be required for import in each ship that sailed from Mexico to the Old World, and with the help of the imperial Portuguese, turkeys, chilies, and tomatoes soon became common on each of the world's continents.
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Mexican tribes had been domesticating and eating the two species of wild turkeys indigenous to Mexico since at least 800 BC. Most of the tribes consumed what is commonly known as the North American wild turkey. But the Maya domesticated the far more colorful ocellated turkey found only in the areas that were once part of their city-state "empire:" the Yucatán Peninsula, Belize, and Guatemala. Tomás's head betrays an ocellated background. 

Both the Aztec and the Maya prized turkeys, not only for their meat, but for their feathers. When the Spanish saw toms in full strut, they named the turkey for the only other bird that had a similar look: the peacock. Pavo is still the most common word used for the bird -- even though it is not uncommon to hear Mexicans refer to the birds as guajolote, the Spanish transliteration of the Nahuatl word used by the Aztec.

Those imported turkeys quickly made their way to England where they became common enough that a flock of them were thrown into the hold of the Mayflower 1n 1620 on its voyage to Massachusetts -- only 100 years after the first turkey set foot in Spain. Not only had the pilgrims ended up in a land where they had not intended to land, they also had not planned well on their choice of fowl provisions. 

In comparison with the flocks of hefty wild turkeys that were there for the shooting, the European breed was a rather weedy lot. But the domesticated turkeys were retained just in case. Some of them were the forbearers of the domesticated turkeys that eventually became common as celebratory birds on American holiday tables in the 19th century.

That brings us back to poor Tomás. He has no turkey hens of his own. His only companions are chickens and ducks. That may explain why he is constantly puffed up.

But he does have a role. If any of you have ever encountered a tom wild turkey, you will know they are quite aggressive and will chase and attack any person silly enough to ruin from them.

My neighbors have funneled that aggression into a role for Tomás. He is the watchdog of the flock. Whenever, I get near his charges, he fluffs himself up like an angry cat to let me know that he is not a mere feather duster; he is cock of the walk.

He is wise enough to know that his ancestors were gobbling around the Mexican landscape while my relatives were still coming out of Africa, and I need to recall my place in his social hierarchy.

I do not know what his eventual fate will be. I should ask my neighbors if he is destined to be dinner some fine Easter -- or if he will simply live out his days as The Shepherd of Chickens and Exotic Alarm Clock.          

second statutory holiday of the year

OK, class. Put your books under your chairs, take out a pencil and a piece of paper, and get ready for your morning quiz.

Ready? Today is one of Mexico's statutory holidays. What is the holiday? And why is it not being celebrated today?

If you answered Constitution Day, you are correct. It was celebrated last Monday. We will get to that in a moment.

For all of its civic holidays and religious fiestas, Mexico has only seven federal statutory holidays (eight in a presidential election year). Constitution Day (Día de la Constitución) is one of the Lofty Seven.*

And even though it does not have the cachet of the big holidays like Independence Day and Revolution Day, it is a very important historical day. It is the day Mexicans celebrate the Constitution of 1917.

Until 2006, It was celebrated on the anniversary of the day the Constitutional Convention approved the Constitution on 5 February 1917. Since 2006, the day is celebrated on the first Monday of February -- guaranteeing workers a paid holiday. And something the current president wants to change (strike three).

The Constitution of 1917 is the document that enshrined the political and social accomplishments of the Mexican Revolution, and was the first national constitution that stated the positive rights that the government must provide its citizens rather than negative rights protecting the citizens from the actions of the government.

As an example, Article 26 provides: "The State will encourage the development of democracy which will support economic growth." That is classified as a positive right.

In contrast, the First Amendment to the United States Constitution limits governmental action. "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances." It is classified as a negative right.

The revolution itself was the most important event in Mexico's history. It finally answered the question what type of country Mexico was and what being a Mexican meant. The 1917 Constitution provides some answers.

As is true of all revolutions, there were winners and losers at the 1917 constitutional convention in Santiago de Querétaro. (The photograph at the top of this essay is of the delegates swearing their allegiance to the new constitution with that somewhat unnerving Roman salute. The same photograph also appears on the reverse side of the 100-peso note commemorating the centennial of the constitution.)

The big losers at the convention were 1) the Mexican Catholic Church that lost almost all of its power and property that had not yet been seized by the government during President Juarez's reforms, 2) the owners of large estates who saw the land taken for land reform -- or to enhance the wealth of revolutionary generals, and 3) the foreigners (British, Canadians, and Americans, primarily) who owned most of Mexico's mines and infrastructure.

The Constitution discarded the earlier concept espoused by liberals like President Benito Juárez that government should take only a limited, passive role. The new national government now had an obligation to take the lead in promoting the social, economic, and cultural well-being of its citizens. 

The Constitution was so admired by both the Weimar Republic and revolutionary Russia that both nations used the Mexican Constitution of 1917 as a model for their own. Of course, neither of those documents or governments turned out to be very successful.

These provisions may give you an idea what its framers intended for Mexico's future.

• Restricted participation in political affairs to citizens of the Republic
  
  
• Provided that "National benefit" would be a limitation on private contracts and property
  
  
• Established a system of free, mandatory, and secular education -- restricting another traditional role performed by the Catholic church
  
  
• Set up the foundations for land reform through the ejido system
  
  
• Declared all mineral resources in the subsoil belonged to the state
  
  
• Provided for labor rights -- minimum wages, right to strike, and freedom to join a union
  
  
• Placed ownership of all property in the hands of the state and restricted foreign ownership of property near borders or on the coast ("Private property is a privilege created by the nation")
  
  
• Increased the restrictions on the Catholic church beyond those of Juarez's constitution -- including the seizure of church buildings
  
  
• Empowered the government to expropriate property -- from the hacienda owners, and particularly property owned by foreigners
  
  
• Prohibited the reelection of any official -- especially, the president
  
  
• Guaranteed the right of persons to own firearms in their homes
  
  
• Established social security, public health, and welfare systems 

The Constitution has been amended almost 150 times since it was enacted -- one of the most recent removed the prohibition of officials to seek reelection. The only elected official in Mexico who cannot seek reelection now is the president. That makes sense because the issue of presidential reelection was one of the primary triggering events of the revolution.

So, that is why there were so many tourists in town last weekend -- though not as many as usual. Most were celebrating this major step in the development of the Mexican state just as Americans celebrate the Fourth of July or Canadians celebrate Canada Day -- by lugging the family to the beach for good food and a lot of sand.

And I suspect there may be some traditionalists who will do the same thing today -- on the anniversary of the day when the constitution of 1917 was actually approved. 

Feliz cumpleaños, señor Constitución.

* -- The others are New Year's Day, Benito Juárez's Birthday, Labor Day, Independence Day, Revolution Day, and Christmas Day.