forking over

New houses need new accessories.

When I moved into the house with no name six years ago, I had ambitious entertainment plans. With its wide patio and open upper terraces, the house begged to be filled with dinner parties.

None of that happened. But it did not keep from planning that one day it would.

I had brought only a couple of plates and place settings when I moved south. My philosophy then was that I wanted to be as mobile as possible, and "stuff" just got in the way. Owning a house broadened my acquisition horizons.

One day I was in Soriana in Manzanillo when I spotted a rather nifty caddy with colorful tableware. The set looked like something you would take on a picnic in Nebraska. But that informality was exactly what I wanted. So, I bought two sets for the house and one for Dora.

Because I am who I am, I needed a system for hanging each piece so I could tell if any went missing. (One fork did just that after I expanded the number of people in my household. It just disappeared.)

The natural order seemed to be pre-ordained. At least, as far as I was concerned. I would hang them in the same order as they should be laid out for dinner. From the left: salad fork, dinner fork, knife, spoon, and soup spoon. Everyone knows that system.

Well, if they do, it has not quite worked out as I had planned. There are now five people in the house who hang up the utensils. Even though I have described the system to everyone repeatedly, what results borders on chaos. When I return from my trips, I know I will need to re-sort the caddy contents.

The problem is cultural. Even though the order makes sense to me, I cannot remember a local restaurant I have visited locally where the eating utensils are set out on the table. They are often in the center of the table in a glass or, now in these virus-amok times, a waiter will deliver them wrapped together in a funeral shroud napkin. Omar tells me that he has never seen utensils set out a table the way I do -- not even when growing up at home.

So, I am the odd man out here. Even before I moved to Mexico, I had learned the lesson that there is little use in trying to change a cultural-based habit. I will just deal with it.

And that brings me to the real core of this essay. Yesterday I posted a photograph at the bottom of my essay showing the dinner I had prepared using the allspice leaves. Not one person mentioned the error.

You probably all see it now. The utensils are a mirror image of what they should be.

I will confess that I did it on purpose to see if anyone would call me on it. No one did. I suppose there are several reasons why all of you left it unmentioned.

The most obvious is that no one noticed because the purpose of the photograph was to call attention to the meal on the plate, not to the silverware surrounding it. Or, if they did notice, it still did not bother anyone.

Or maybe people noticed and were too polite to point out the error. Though, I suspect most people would have been tempted just a bit to let the air out of my hubris-laden prose. I can think of a few nominees.

And there is the other possibility. Readers did not see it as an error because very few of us sit down to a table where the flatware is properly arranged. 

I would easily fall into that last category. I eat almost all of my meals alone. And, as good as my cooking is, it often ends up not on good china, but in a cheap Chinese-made bowl, and is eaten with a soup spoon. As if I were an extra in a road show of Oliver! I have even rehearsed my lines. "Please, sir, I want some more."

I am now beginning to wonder if the others in my household are the innocent parties, and I am the culprit. Maybe I return the utensils to the caddy willy-nilly. And the photograph was not a test, it was simply another symptom of me coming unstuck from my organized, controlling, culture-handicapped northern life.

If so, I say "amen" to coming unstuck.

the mysterious leaf

The best discoveries in life are accidental.

At least they are for me. And it is almost always true for food.

The leaves in the photograph are a perfect example. There are several trees of this variety growing around town.

That is not surprising. Even though it is native to the Caribbean, the tree had taken root in Mexico and Central America before Columbus sailed the ocean blue in 1492.

Maybe it is just age. Maybe I do not pay attention to details as well as I once did. But, on my walks, I have passed these trees without paying much attention. That changed earlier in the week when a friend put a name to them.

It is an allspice tree. Its true identity is given away by bruising the leaves. They give off that distinctive aroma of a combination of nutmeg, ginger, cloves, and cinnamon that is associated with the tree's fruit. The English named the fruit "allspice" because it seemed to combine all of those spice scents in one tiny peppercorn.

Northerners and Europeans use the dried fruit of the tree primarily as a spice for desserts. But the spice is used around the world for far more than a flavor booster for pumpkin pie.

If you have eaten any Jamaican jerk dishes, you have eaten allspice. Allspice is what gives the seasoning its taste-shifting characteristics. Some foodies believe the Arawak developed the seasoning. Others attribute it to Africans who were enslaved on the island. The truth is probably a combination of those stories.

Allspice is also a major cooking component in Mexico -- especially, in Yucatan and the southern states. That may be because the spice is associated with the Maya and the fact that they took root along the Mexican Gulf coast. It shows up in fish, meat, and vegetable dishes along with moles and salsas. Allspice is a prime ingredient in adobos. Most of us have experienced its magic in traditional chiles en Nogada.

But, like most seeds that are cooked whole, allspice finds its cooking home in India. Allspice, tomatoes, and chilies are so much a part of Indian cooking that is is easy to forget that all three came from the Americas -- the last two from Mexico.

Somewhere in my research, I found a reference that allspice leaves may be substituted for bay leaves. But only fresh allspice leaves; drying the leaves destroys their aromatic character.

I wanted to use the leaves quickly because they remain fresh for only a day or two. So, I started thinking about Indian dishes that rely on bay leaves for flavor. The most obvious choice was chicken biryani with its yogurt-marinated chicken, basmati rice, and panoply of whole spices, all centered around an onion-chili mixture.

Chicken biryani is like the potato salad of India. Every region has its version and every family within the region has its own variation.

In the 1970s, I took an Indian cooking class from Virginia Plainfield in Portland. She told her students if they wanted to cook dishes that always came out consistently, they would be frustrated with Indian cooking. The dishes would always be delicious, but they would not be the same each time because of the variation in the spices.

Over the years, I have modified each chicken biryani I have prepared. The primary substitution this go would be the fresh allspice leaves. But I also left out saffron in favor of a star anise. Fortunately, Hawaii had boxes of Indian basmati rice. There is no substitute there.

When I was done, I combined the biryani with a raita I made from locally-available ingredients. Because I was too lazy to cook my own naan, I warmed up a pita as an understudy.

With all of those spices and seeds, was it possible to taste the allspice leaf? Absolutely.

When done right, Indian food is not a stew of flavors. The flavors should be layered. And they were this time. (I have failed this basic art of layering many times with Indian dishes.) The experiment worked. Omar and Ozzie both gave it a Mexican thumb-up.

While I was writing this essay, it occured to me how much the food supply system has changed in Mexico. I doubt that I could have written that sentence in 2009 when I made my final move to Mexico because back then I could not find sufficient ingredients (even with substitutions) to do justice to a chicken biryani.

We all can now. I just did.

And it all started with one leaf that I did not bother to identify on my walks.

ballots are in the air

The Mexican political season is off and running.

On 6 June my neighbors and millions of other Mexican citizens will trudge off to their local polling stations, stand in line, show their national voter identification card, and mark their ballots for their preferred candidates.

Every 6 six years, Mexico elects a president. But that is not this election. The president is only half-way through his term. This election is for candidates for the  Mexican Congress and local government, for three-year terms.

Last night I was having dinner in Barra de Navidad when we heard a large commotion in the street. People chanting. Drums beating. Music playing. For once in my life, I knew exactly what was going on.

On my way to dinner, I had stopped to talk with a local guy ("Polo" Pelayo) who is running to become the president of the local municipality (or county). Most people know his last name. He is a scion of one of the leading families in Barra de Navidad.

One of the unusual aspects of his campaign is that he is not running as a candidate for one of the established parties. He has chosen to run as the candidate of a new party that exists only in Jalisco -- Hagamos (roughly translated as "Let's do it.").

The name echoes that of other parties in Spanish-speaking countries -- parties like Spain's Unidas Podemos ("Yes we can") that are fond of appellations in the imperative. The party is counting on the "clean broom" syndrome.

Maybe because he is local, the town is awash in lucha libre impersonators, and car windshields that sport his name.

As do the walls around town.

But Hagamos certainly is not the only political party in town.

At one time Partido Acción Nacional, the National Action Party (PAN) was the party of opposition. That changed in 2000 when its candidate for national president won. The party still has strength in Jalisco, but it is no longer seen as the innovator it once was.

The party that was once seen as Mexico's party of government (because for 70 years it guaranteed that it was the party of government) now looks about as shabby as the sign that hangs across the street about a block from my house -- especially after the voters trusted PRI for a comeback in the 2010s.

Mexico even has its share of left-wing nationalist parties, including Partido del Trabajo, the Labor Party (PT) with its rather startling star.*

Most of the current signs around town deal with the local offices. But not all. This sign supports a candidate for Congress.

If you notice at the bottom, he is endorsed by three of the major political parties who, at the national level, have allied themselves to reverse the majority that the party of current national president, Movimiento de Regeneración Nacional, The National Regeneration Movement (MORENA), has in Congress.

The local talk is that the race for the presidency of the Cihuatlán municipality is down to two parties -- Hagamos and the current holder of the office, Movimaiento Ciudadano, The Citizens’ Movement (MC). 

In 2015, the Citizens' Movement had brushed up its image both locally and nationally as a reform party. Partly because of that image, the candidate of the Citizens' Movement won the presidency. And he was re-elected in 2018. The party would like to retain the position -- with a new candidate.

There is a certain tribalism associated with local politics here that reminds me of political campaigns in Oregon in the 1950s -- before campaigns became slick public image campaigns.

When I ran for the Oregon legislature (well after the 1950s), some of that tribalism still prevailed. And I loved it. The type of campaign where supporters paraded in the street, and candidates met and talked with voters on their doorsteps.

Pelayo's Hagamos parade last evening was a perfect example. Show people how big your bandwagon is by bringing the troops out in the streets.

The Citizens' Movement answered that challenge this evening. Public buses and lines of cars brought Citizens' Movement supporters to my neighborhood. I would estimate the parade was three times larger than that of Hagamos. And it was much louder.

The candidate himself was there -- dashing from door to meet as many potential voters as he could.

This party knows what it is doing from a campaign perspective. The home-dweller was always asked if a sign supporting the candidacy of Jorge Salas Chavez could be placed on the house. The answer was often "yes." (I will note that on my way home, several of the signs had been removed when the parade had passed by.)

For a political junkie like me, the local political process is fascinating. But, fascinating or not, I cannot be a participant in it.

One of the reasons the Mexican Revolution was fought was because of the political influence foreigners had on the Mexican government. The most egregious may have been when foreigners conspired to have the first president post-Revolution assassinated.

When the Constitution of 1917 was written, the drafters made a point of including a clause in Article 33 that answers the question of how involved foreigners may be in Mexican politics. They can't.

"Foreigners may not in any way participate in the political affairs of the country." And, as I have written before, Mexico is serious about that prohibition. Violators have been summarily deported in the past. One example is a group of Americans with connections to the Costalegre in the 1990s.

From past conversations with candidates, I know they are interested in what foreigners would like to see in the communities of Cihuatlán municipality. But the Constitution makes it clear that we foreigners cannot donate money, advertise our support with signs on our cars or house (because that very notion of "support" is unlawful), or do anything to show preference for one candidate over the other.**

But there is nothing improper about taking an interest in what is happening up until 6 June -- and what will come after.

 
* -- Oddly, I did not see any signs supporting MORENA, the party of the incumbent national president. I suspect they will pop up later. 

** -- I may have to eat some of those words if I find out that a rumor I have heard is actually true. If it is, I will let you know. 

blowing in the wind

We are barely half-way through April and the hurricane predictions for the Pacific coast of Mexico are out.

Well, why not? Hurricane season in Mexico runs from 1 June through 30 November. At least, those are the official dates. Storms are known to not be so calendar-minded.

So, with just a month and a half before the heavy weather season begins, what are the official predictions?

The first is that 2021 is likely to be a Goldilocks season. Not too many storms. Not too few. Just normal.

In numbers, as you can see by the chart, that means 15 tropical storms, 8 "light" hurricanes either category 1 or 2, and 3 intense hurricanes in category 3 to 5. The first two categories are the norm. And we may get by with one less high category hurricane.

All of that is academically interesting. The more important question is where those storms and hurricanes are going to go. And that is a much more difficult question to answer.

Most tropical storms and hurricanes in this part of the world are birthed in the Pacific off of the coast of Central America. They then head off in a northwesterly direction. For Mexico, that is good because of the southeasterly slope of Mexico's coast, most of the storms just wander out to sea and die down without touching land. But not all.

Depending on the weather patterns in the Pacific when those disturbances head north, they can be deflected a bit to the east. Too much deflection, and the disturbances will impact people on land. That is true even if the disturbance does not touch land. Our floods last year were caused by rain that was sucked into the tropical storm that passed by offshore.

There are far too many factors to accurately predict the path of storms that are themselves merely predictions. But that does not keep the meteorologists from making general predictions of which areas of Mexico could be most affected by this year's weather. And here it is.

There is nothing surprising about the map. Oaxaca gets hit with weather that does not make the left turn out into the Pacific. Jalisco and Colima (effectively us) gets hit when weather patterns deflect disturbances toward the coast. And poor Southern Baja gets hit directly by almost every disturbance that is a near-hit for Jalisco.

I enjoy the strength, the power, and the sheer theatricality of the summer storms here on the Costalegre. I am not so enthralled by the physical damage and extremely rare loss of life that they bring to these beach towns.

But the storms have no care for what I enjoy and what does not enthrall me. They are going to generate and die without a single concern for any of us. THey are the ur-lords of existentialism.

At least, we can be prepared for their arrival. For, that they will do.

no news is -- no news

Last February, the Jalisco Ministry of Health opened a test-run virus vaccination program in our county seat of Cihuatlán for people over 65.

Because the vaccinations were seen as an issue of public health, and not individual protection, the government made the vaccinations available to Mexican citizens, holders of permanent and temporary residential cards, and a few (but not all) people with tourist visas.

The program ran a couple of weeks until the Oxford-AstraZeneca doses allotted had been distributed. The Astra-Zeneca vaccine is a bit more efficient with a booster to induce the body to create the greatest efficacy against the virus. That meant, at some point, those of us who were vaccinated would optimally receive a second jab (a tale of two lines). 

The question was (and is): "when?"

Upon discharge from the clinic, each of the people who received a vaccination was provided a piece of paper showing the date and type of vaccine used for the first shot. The form also included a date that purported to be the date for the second vaccination.

The young man who discharged me told me the date was approximate and that I would be called with the date and place for my second go. He said he was quite certain the date was not going to be accurate, and he had no idea where the next clinic was be administered (taking the shot).

Either today or yesterday was the day that the second vaccinations were supposed to start. Because I was not certain, I waited until early this afternoon to drive over to the IMSS clinic in Cihuatlán. The photograph tells the entire story.

The IMSS clinic was open for its usual business of treating its policy-holders. I asked the receptionist if she had any news of the vaccination clinic. Years of experience has taught me that receptionists, secretaries, and office clerks know much more about what is happening than do their principals.

Journalists and lawyers are never happy asking one question when seven variations on the question are available. Even peppering her with the same question from different angles rendered the same result. She had no idea when the vaccination clinic would return -- or where it would be.

I suspect to escape my cross-examination, she stopped a passing doctor. His answer was the same. But he did add: "It's not our program."

So, there we have it. It appears the young man who discharged me was correct -- my second shot will not be on Thursday because Thursday was merely an approximate date.

But, we do not know that for certain, either. It is possible the vaccination clinic may spring up at the IMSS clinic -- or somewhere nearby -- tomorrow. Or on Thursday. Or next month.

The only thing I can reliably say is that the vaccination clinic was not at the IMSS clinic this afternoon -- and no one there knows when or whether it will be.

The clinic will need to return somewhere locally. Only a small portion of the over-65 population was vaccinated here in mid-February. And there have been no local subsequent opportunities. Eventually, the team will once again be here.

And I cannot be positive that the team will return for second vaccinations. Mexico ran out of AstaZeneca doses with its initial wave in February. Since then, it has been relying on other vaccines because AstraZeneca has become hostage to vaccine nationalism in India and the European Union -- the countries where it is manufactured. There are very few sources left for AstraZeneca vaccines.

According to The Economist, the Mexican federal government considered relying on studies that one dose of AstraZeneca would provide sufficient protection for herd immunity. The remaining supply could then be used to provide at least one vaccination to the unvaccinated. That would spread out the number of people with some protection. 

I have heard nothing further of that plan. Perhaps, because at the end of March, the United States loaned 2 million doses of its AstraZeneca stockpile to Mexico. (Canada was also a beneficiary of the deal.)  

Whichever way the policy-makers decide, the rest of us will just need to develop a more-Mexican sense of patience. It is a virtue that will serve all of us well.

spicing up my life

Good morning. My name is Steve, and I am an Amazon-holic.

Like most users, I did not see it coming. But one morning I woke up in a pile of empty shipping boxes. I knew something had changed.

I have long been a fan of Amazon. When I first moved to Mexico, ordering through Amazon was a bit difficult. Packages crossing the border seemed to be problematic. Then things changed.

Just about the time I bought the house with no name in Barra de Navidad, Amazon premiered a new platform -- Amazon.Mx. I thought I might have to open a new account, but I was wrong.

My Amazon Prime account gave me access to everything on Amazon.Mx. Better yet, I could also buy almost anything in the Amazon inventory through Amazon.Mx. (For some reason, several of Amazon's subcontractors do not ship to Mexico.)

Initially, the new platform did not make a big difference in my life. I can find almost everything I need here in town. If not, Manzanillo, with its big-box stores, is less than an hour away.

Every now and then, though, I need something that Amazon can provide. That has especially been true this past year when I have tried staying close to home.

I am not certain what started my latest Amazon splurge. Maybe it was a replacement Eagle Crest duffle with a drop shoe tray. Or swabs to clean my camera's sensor. Or Billy Collins's latest collection.

Whatever it was, it started something of a shipping avalanche. A new Kindle. Lots of DVDs. A set of baker quality silicon baker mitts. Samsung earphones. A travel brush. Replacement wrist bands for my wrist step counter. Books. And several gifts.

Somewhere the list morphed from necessities to nice-to-haves. 

And there was a handy scapegoat. The virus. Being confined was driving me to the edge of casa fever. I had to have some outlet. 

At least, I was not as bad as the young woman I read about in The Oregonian who deals with the loneliness and isolation by bingeing on television. She confessed to the reporter that she runs The Crown all day -- claiming that it makes her feel as if the Windsors are the family she can no longer visit. I suspect she has now gone into mourning over the death of her cranky Uncle Phil.

I took a different neurotic path. I started buying things. When Fernando would show up in his DHL van (as he has three times this week) with his upbeat shout outside my door ("Estiv. I have something for you."), my day is brightened. Probably more by Fernando's greeting than whatever he is delivering.

I usually know when he is going to arrive. DHL has a marvelous tracking feed that updates my order on Amazon. But I did not expect his greeting on Wednesday afternoon.

When I opened the door, I had no idea what could be in the large box he handed over to me. My confusion lasted for only about one minute. I finally realized what was inside even though it arrived a week early.

About two weeks ago, I was searching through YouTube videos to learn some new cooking techniques. I cannot remember the topic of the video I was watching (probably something to do with lamb sauces), but that was not what makes the video relevant to today's tale.

The cook came to the stage where herbs had to be added to the mixture. Instead of pulling them out of a cabinet somewhere else in the kitchen, he opened a drawer under his preparation table to reveal what looked like a glimpse of heaven.

All of his herbs and spices were in round jars with the name of the contents on top. And they were in alphabetical order. Anal retentive folk all over the world gasped. At least, this one did.

I immediately switched my telephone from the YouTube app to the Amazon app. I had to have something like that. And I found just what I wanted on Amazon.Mx. Mini-Mason jars with pre-printed and customizable labels.

When I opened the big box, sure enough, there were two orders of 24 jars each. I thought 48 jars would suffice.

So, I started filling them. As I worked my way down the alphabet, it became obvious that somewhere between "thyme" and "white pepper," I was going to run out of jars. And I did. Just seven short of my target.

And you know exactly what I did next. I am predictable. Without moving from my transfer station, I opened my Amazon.Mx app and ordered 24 more jars. I can use the rest for other storage. If all goes well, Fernando will deliver my jars on 19 April. Or earlier.

I have noticed now that I have started traveling to Manzanillo that I have transitioned from bingeing on Amazon to simply being a social buyer.

Even so, it feels good to know that Amazon is always there for the things that are difficult for me to find elsewhere. And I want to be certain that Fernando has a job. 

  

moving to mexico -- banks part 2

Let me repeat the most important factor in my recent tale of woe dealing with Banamex -- it is my fault I am now going through a learning experience about the Mexican banking system.

When I moved to Mexico, I initially solved the problem of how to turn dollars into pesos by transferring money from my BanamexUSA account to my Banamex Mexico account. That gave me two potential sources to pay my bills: 1) withdrawals from my Banamex account, and 2) withdrawals from the few local ATMS using a northern debit card. When BanamexUSA closed down, I was in the same position as most northerners. I had to rely solely on ATMs.

It was a risky life. The ATMs in our area are often out of service. Even when they are in service, they will regularly refuse to recognize northern debit cards.

When BanamexUSA closed, I kept my Banamex Mexico account active. I would regularly withdraw extra pesos from the ATMs in times of abundance -- when the ATMs were working -- to deposit in my bank account. When the inevitable ATM famine set in, I could withdraw pesos from the bank. I called it the Joseph Project.

Following the advice of several readers, I opened an account at Intercam six years ago when it expanded its banking services. That account quickly became my prime source of dollars to pesos. But I kept the Banamex account for emergencies.

Apparently, I have not had any financial emergencies, because Banamex has now frozen my account for three years of inactivity. I told you about my hours-long visit to the bank two weeks ago to get the account unfrozen (moving to mexico -- banks).

Sergio, the Banamex customer service representative, told me to return this week. My understanding was that I could then deposit money in my account as if nothing had happened.

I went to Banamex on Wednesday. Either I misunderstood (which is very likely) or something went amiss because I spent another couple of hours in the bank waiting for or talking with Sergio about the account. Apparently, my visit two weeks ago was just the prelude to reactivating my relationship with Banamex.

Once again, Sergio made copies of my bank card, my permanent resident card, and my passport, and attached the copies to documents that would then be forwarded to Banamex headquarters. Headquarters will then determine whether I can reactivate my account.

Sergio said he will call me to come back to the bank in four or five days to let me know the results of our request. Even the answer is "yes," there will be more paperwork to complete.

While Sergio was reviewing my account on his computer screen, I asked him a question. Even though I should have thought of it last month when I was at the bank, a reader on Facebook, Patti McCoy, reminded me of a similar program in Oregon for inactive bank accounts. Unclaimed money eventually ends up in the hands of the state by being sent to the Department of Lands -- or the Department of Loot and Booty as I would have it.

With a bit of trepidation, I asked Sergio how much money was in my account. There should have been about 60,000 pesos. He responded that the computer showed a balance of zero pesos -- but, he quickly added, that does not mean the money is not still in my account. It merely means that no money is available for withdrawal because the account is frozen.

The answer did not surprise or bother me. As I said at the start of the essay, I am where I am because I failed to use the account for three years.

So, now I will wait for the telephone call from the bank (just as I am waiting for the telephone call telling me when and where to get my second vaccination jab). When it comes, it will come.

For some reason, I suspect there may be another chapter of this tale that will underscore my ongoing mea culpa.