goodbyes

Friday we excitedly made the trek to Mercado Hidalgo for the perfect Mexico soccer jersey. We swung by Tío and Caro’s and walked into town with them for a while. We stopped at a pottery gallery and I waited outside with the kids. We were on a little plaza and when Tío and Caro came out, Zeiva was spinning around a small tree trunk. I announced that we were heading to the bank about a block and a half away (though with no streets to cross) and assumed everyone was on board. I lead the way with Lucas, and thought Zeiva had come along with Tío and Caro. Several minutes later, we got to the bank and started heading in to the ATM machines. Caro asked me, “where’s Zeiva?” I said, “she was with you!” Caro said, “no, I thought she was up front with you!” She was nowhere to be seen. I absolutely freaked – adrenaline causing all those crazy things…feeling about to vomit, instantly sweating, heart in my throat, stone in my stomach. I started running as fast as I could back to the plaza. There were people on the sidewalk, so I just ran in the street alongside the oncoming traffic. Perhaps about five minutes had elapsed, and it probably took me a minute or two to get back. The layout was such that I could see the first half of the plaza as I neared, where the tree was that she’d be spinning around. She wasn’t there. Adrenaline a notch higher, my mind racing with how I would even begin to search for her if she was gone. As I hit the plaza itself and got the full few around the corner, I saw her standing there looking down the other main road that leads away from the plaza (and familiar to her, towards the Natural History Museum where she’d taken a class the week earlier). She was all alone, her eyes and face red and wet with tears and she was yelling, “Mama, mama” and looking around in desperation. I about cried when I scooped her up, but I was so relieved that I just squeezed her and apologized over and over. Definitely my worst scare ever because I have never accidentally left her behind. She’s wandered off a gazillion times, and for some reason that’s never felt quite as scary because it seemed like she had to be somewhere in the vicinity. And it never felt anywhere near as awful because it was her that wandered off, so whenever I’ve found her again she hadn’t the slightest idea that I was worried and had been searching for her. But she obviously felt very scared and deserted. Waah. What a horrible feeling. Once we’d calmed down, we talked about how she made such a good choice staying where she was. We’ve actually never proactively talked about that, so I feel extremely lucky that she chose to stay put and that it was all quick enough that she didn’t change her mind about going looking for us. Lucas came up with the idea that she could have talked to a police officer while she was waiting. We talked about when and how that would also be a good idea, but several times over the course of the day when she would remind me that I left her and that she was scared, she would also say, “and I didn’t see any police officers at all so I couldn’t ask them for help.” We also never let go of each other’s hands for the rest of our trip in town and every time we stopped she’d come close and whisper to me, “voy a quedarme muy, muy cerca a ti” (I’m going to stay very, very close to you).

We finally made it to Mercado Hidalgo for the jersey and, not surprisingly, they didn’t have it. Bummer. The shop owner and his wife go pick up the jerseys in Leon and they hadn’t had a chance to go. Things were especially busy with school starting. His wife was embroidering dozens of jackets, he had loads of orders that he was working to put together. The soonest he would make it to Leon was next Wednesday…not a chance for us. Too bad – glad I wasn’t counting on it anyway. Seemed to good to be true! We had seen another shop on the way there on Plaza del Baratillo – jerseys were a little pricier but still not bad, although Lucas didn’t want to have anything to do with them because they had no numbers on the back. I told him we struck out with the jersey at the market, and he asked if we could somehow put a number on the back of one of the blank ones at the other shop. Good idea! Not sure if we can, but maybe something iron on? He said, “Just ask Nani”, because in our family she is the magic conjurer and fixer of all things clothing (among many other things).

On the way out of the market, Lucas also surprised me by asking for tacos for lunch. A couple of days to go and he finally gave in to their deliciousness – hurray! Not only that but starting that evening, Lucas AND Zeiva requested to have their chicken put into tacos for dinner. They’ve had tacos the last three night! I can’t believe it took this long. But I’m glad – and now I’m going have to figure out how to find yummy fresh corn tortillas in Seattle, or they might not keep eating them.

bistek tacos...

...and, of course, television - maybe that's why lucas wanted tacos

It had gotten a little late and I’d promised we’d go swimming at the hotel pool close to the casita, so we decided to grab a bus home. We thought we’d been on crowded buses before, but this was truly extraordinary. Our bus pulled up to the super-busy major bus stop near Mercado Hidalgo, and it was already completely full, as in all seats taken and people standing the entire length of the bus. There were about 20 people hoping to get on. I thought there wasn’t even a remote chance, so we hung back. But they just kept squishing and squishing, and finally, when it was just us on the sidewalk, they yelled, “suben, suben, ya pueden!” (get on, get on, you can!) so I shoved the kids into the stairwell and just barely squeezed on. The driver couldn’t leave without shutting the door, so the one other guy in the stairwell with me yelled that he was about to push, and then we were suddenly extra squished (Zeiva screaming, “mama, no puedo ver, no puedo ver! – I can’t see, I can’t see!). But only momentarily, and then the door was shut and we were back to regular squished! The two guys who were sandwiching us kept talking about us as “guerita (zeiva), guero (lucas) and guera (me). This is a term referring to light complexioned people, and I’d read that we would hear it a lot, but I’ve probably only heard it once or twice while here. But these two guys just went on and on – where are you from, guera? Hold on to the rail, guerita. Look at the camera, guero (one of them took the photo below). When hordes of people got off later down the line and we went to find seats, they said, “vamos con la guerita” and sat with us and kept chatting. Supposedly, it’s not derogatory at all, more a term of endearment, and is also used for any Latinos who are also fair-skinned. But who knows. It was all very entertaining and Zeiva talked about how many people were on the bus for hours.

super-smahed on the bus! i am down in the
stairwell, just one person away from the door

As soon as we got home, we grabbed our suits and raced to the hotel. We stopped briefly to say goodbye to the other butcher and then hit the ice-cold water of the pool while it was still sunny. We arrived at 3 pm and I thought it would be no problem to play in the water until 5-ish so that we could eat dinner in the hotel restaurant at 5:30 pm. But by 3:45 pm they were shivering and wanting to get out. I wondered what we were going to do for nearly two hours, especially since there was a chance that Tío and Carolina were going to join us, so we couldn’t just eat early and leave (and we had to spend 200 pesos in the restaurant as our pool admission fee). Amazingly, Lucas and Zeiva starting playing games pretending they were jaguars in the jungle. I was Mama, Lucas was brother and Zeiva was baby (surprise!). So they brought me lizards and mice and gazelles to eat, and they basked on the rocks (which were trees in the jungle) and took jaguar naps. Once they were warm and dry, they started hopping in and out of the pool. They never really “swam” again per se, but they were in and out, splashing around,playing jaguar and having such a great time, that when they clouds rolled in and it was really coming to an end, I couldn’t believe it was already 5 pm.

llasmany, the other butcher in the shop we frequent

getting used to the very cold water in the pool at hotel paseo de la presa

or maybe not getting so used to it!

jaguars basking in the trees

Tío and Caro couldn’t make it, we ended up being the only diners in the restaurant, and we ate a pretty good meal while it absolutely poured outside. Thunder, lightning…the hotel even lost power for a little while. We weren’t sure how we were going to get home, but there was a little break in the storm and we sprinted to the casita. I so wanted to get pictures of cars parked in 6 inches of water, and big lion-head sculptures on someone’s exterior wall spewing a giant fountain of water out its mouth. But I didn’t want to lose sight of the kids, or get caught in the next round of downpour. We made it home only slightly damp and hit the sack.

dinner in the hotel restaurant

sheets of raining pouring off the hotel roof

Saturday we continued the quest for the jersey. We went back to the other shop on Plaza del Baratillo, and it ended up taking about an hour and a half to get the jersey because there was a woman in there dealing with what sounded like some order mix-up of uniforms for a team or a school or something. Then Lucas got caught up in a pick-up game of soccer, so I couldn’t get him to come in to check the jerseys or their sizes. Once I got his attention, the one and only woman in the shop had gone across the plaza for some snacks and a soda. Once she was back, Lucas was in the game again…etc, etc. But, we did finally leave with a jersey!

plaza del baratillo

pick-up soccer

zieva even got in the game!

when she wasn't watching these guys serenading the street vendors

what is this picture doing here? i don't know, i just think these shoes are crazy looking. i got in trouble for taking the photo, apparently they are shy shoes and their vendors do not want you to know about them.

Saturday evening we took the bus up to Valenciana, where we’d visited the mines earlier, to see a puppet show. The theatre is called Casa Simurgh and the founder and her husband are an elderly German couple. It was a funky little space with a beautiful view looking down on the ruins of the mine and Guanajuato, and the kids enjoyed the performance of Hansel and Gretel. Zeiva had to come to the back a few times to sit on my lap when the witch was being particularly nasty, but in general they were mesmerized. Despite the fact that someone next to me filmed almost the entire event on his little digital camera, I felt uncomfortable trying to take pictures. No one was taking any. And even with the flash off, the shutter noise would have been obvious. But the puppets were gorgeous works of art and the narrator was a talented storyteller.

heading into the puppet show

The show got out at 6 pm, we hadn’t had dinner and the kids were tired. I couldn’t decide whether to splurge for a taxi as we were finishing the 10-minute walk back to the main road where the buses and taxis run. You can guess what the kids wanted to do. But as we were rounding the bend to the main road the bus came by. It stopped alongside a building such that the driver couldn’t see us but we could see its back end. It was just far enough away that I figured we wouldn’t make it, and then the kids would be intolerable unless we caught a taxi. But Lucas bolted in a full-on sprint, caught the bus before everyone had boarded, and asked him to wait for Zeiva and me. Perfect timing, if you’ve got Lucas running for you! I guess Django’s luck rubbed off on him a bit, because when we got into town and walked the three blocks to our next bus stop, the bus was sitting right there. Lucas got around the corner, immediately recognized it (despite the fact that it was half hidden behind another bus) and took off on sprint number two, again catching it right as it was closing its doors. We caught up and boarded – amazingly, it wasn’t even full and we were able to sit for once. Phew…we made it home in record time.

Sunday, our last full day. I have been wanting to climb the huge rocks behind the casita since we got here. We went to the base of them for the Festival de la Cueva, but I was torn about trying to hike up with the kids. I’d been told it was no problem, even with the kids; I’d been told not to go, there were snakes and scorpions; I’d been told there was a wide, easy road to the top; I’d been told that it was easy to get to the cave half-way up, but that the scramble to the actual top was dangerous. And, every one gave me different directions for how to find the road and/or trail. So I’d had a little trouble motivating! But this was our last chance and it just seemed wrong to have looked at this majestic view every day for the last two months and not gone to check it out up close. So we went. I won’t say it was fantastic – there was a fair amount of whining, complaining and bad attitudes (occasionally on my part as well). But, we figured it out and made it to the cave, which I consider a huge accomplishment. It was a solid half-hour walk along the paved road to the nearby clinic where the bus route ends and then beyond to the power plant, and then a few minutes along a dirt road to a Y. Left continued along as a road, but in the opposite direction of the cave, and right petered out into a steep, crumbly trail. We decided to give the trail a try. We survived. There were some moments where the kids were scared because they couldn’t get a grip on the slope, but no one fell. I had pretty solid footing and could push or pull them up when they were stuck. But I was already worrying about how to get down. When we were about three quarters of the way up, a group of people was coming down. I asked them how far out of the way the road went and they said it would only add about 10 minutes on our way down. I had no idea what that really meant, but I knew there was no way to get down with the kids that same way (even alone I couldn’t have done it without falling I don’t think) so we were going to have to take the road no matter how long it was. We made it to the top of the trail, which met the road, and walked the road the rest of the way to the cave. That bit was another solid 45 minutes, so the kids were tired and hungry by the time we got there. We rested, snacked, rehydrated and there was no discussion – we were headed back. Which was fine by me. Zeiva’s calf was swollen from a mosquito bite and I believed her that she didn’t want to go for a walk in the first place because it hurt. Lucas was grouchy off and on because he wasn’t all that interested in the cave. Oh well. In the end, I think they enjoyed the sense of accomplishment from having made it up there, and the views were great.

the view from part way up la bufa

the road to the cueva

that's a little statue of san ignacio de loyola, who they celebrate during the festival de la cueva

prickly pear cactus, from which nopales are made,
with red and green fruit (tunas) - guanajuato in the background

Walking the road back probably added about 20 minutes to the trek down and then we waited about 20 minutes for a bus. We were very excited when it arrived, but after everyone got off, José, the driver, made a little gesture to us to wait. He pulled into the clinic parking lot away from the bus stop, and, no joke, for the next 15 minutes made out with a woman who had stayed on the bus. Fortunately, the kids couldn’t see. I thought José was smiley after Lucas had asked him his name the other day, but boy was he smiley the entire drive down into town!

We got off down at el Jardín de la Union. We’d told Tío and Caro that we’d try to find them around their place several hours later, so I had no expectations of seeing them anytime soon. But three seconds after we emerged from the underground tunnel, Lucas found them wandering around looking at some of the art out on the plaza – I couldn’t believe it! Lucky for me, because one of my few remaining missions was to get mole paste to bring home. I asked if the kids could stay with them for a few minutes while I ran down to the little hole-in-the-wall mole shop that Django spotted while here. I can’t believe I didn’t think to take a picture of it, but it is down these little steps off the street, you almost have to duck in. It is just a doorway, a counter, and the space behind the counter. There are one or two people behind the counter, and all they have is 5-gallon buckets of three different kinds of paste (red mole, green mole, and pipian), giant spoons, plastic bags and a scale. The paste Django and I got and cooked up while he was here was phenomenal. So I wanted to bring some back. I walked in and there was a couple in front of me being attended to. Not two seconds later, another woman walked in behind me. We all exchanged greetings and the woman behind me asked, “is there green mole?” She said that her niece had called her specifically asking that she come get green mole from that shop. The woman behind the counter peeked into the bottom of bucket and said, “mmmm, there’s just a little left, maybe a half kilo.” I cringed and very apologetically said that I was also there for some green mole. I explained that I would have gladly let her have it and come back another time but I was getting on a plane the very next day. She was very gracious about it, laughed about how in demand they were and said no problem, and we all got talking about how good the paste was. The couple in front joined the conversation and revealed that they come once a year from four hours away to buy 10 kilos at a time! And indeed, they were just finishing bagging up their 10^th kilo. No wonder there was no green mole left! Anyway, I got a few bags of all three pastes, as well as some tips from everyone in the shop on how they cook with it, what to add, etc. And I was sooo glad that I made it there right when I did!

When I got back to the plaza, the kids were goofing around with Tío and Caro and they wandered yet again into the ice-cream shop. They had just eaten “BonIce” popsicles, basically otter pops, which are sold by vendors wandering around with carts, but they always go in to the ice-cream shop to say hi anyway. They got talking to Erica and Ricardo who work there and told them we were leaving the next day. Ricardo asked them to dance again and turned up the music to get them going. Lucas obliged and Caro got some of it on video – we’ll see if we can get it uploaded at some point. They also gave the kids free popsicles – double treat!

erica y enrique with the kids

As we left the plaza, we passed by the tortilleria where we often buy tortillas. The previous day when we passed by (even though we weren’t buying any), the woman gave Lucas and Zeiva each a warm tortilla. This time we were across the street, so all they did was wave. Even though she didn’t know, for them it was goodbye. We passed the bakery and the kids ran in for a quick look. The woman in there always jokes for us to come back soon – the kids always ask what everything is called, and she says it makes her normally boring day a lot more fun. The ice-cream shop, the tortilleria, the bakery – it all made me realize how many people Lucas and Zeiva have developed some kind of relationship with here over the past two months. It’s pretty incredible – they’ve touched a lot of people, made a lot of folks smile. I’m not sure they realize any of it, they’re just going about their day, being outgoing and happy. But hopefully if we keep talking about it, they will remember at least a few of them, if only from some of the photos.

lunch on our very last day at carla and benjamin's
(belatedly discovered) taqueria down the street

lucas ate two tacos and three quesadillas!

cheesy

goodbye to leti and martin at the fruteria - they are siblings. emilio, the butcher next door, is leti's husband. llasmany, the other butcher, is martin's son. both shops are the family business.

goodbye to martin, the gardener/nightwatchman

goodbye to harry, maya and chocolate - the family next door (in the gorgeous house!)

goodbye to concha, the maid and kid-sitter (for harry and maya)

The five of us hiked up to El Pípila, since Tío and Caro still hadn’t been (other than passing by on the bus to our casita). The kids talked them into going up into the sweatbox at the top. I declined, thank you very much. Once they got back down, I was looking for a last item or two from the shops lining the statue. Tío was looking for postcards. The kids were around, but we realized that we didn’t have to worry about keeping track of them. Leave it to Lucas to find not just a television, but one with a soccer game on. And get this, they were watching a world cup game from the 1970’s! Go figure…but it made for easy shopping.

another view of gto from the hike up to el pipila

one of the nicer gardens on the hike up to el pipla

tio, caro, lucas and zeiva up at the top of el pipla

lucas making himself comfortable inside one of the shops across
from el pipila - he's watching a 1970's world cup soccer game on tv

Our last day in Guanajuato – hard to believe. I’ve lost a lot of sleep the last two nights because I’ve had to start using the calendar again. Can’t believe how busy next week is already, and I won’t even be fully back at work. Alongside our online calendar I keep several to-do list and it is also haunting me already. Preschool open house, soccer practice, school pictures, dentist appointment. Reality check on all the house projects still waiting to be finished. How does everyone do it all and stay sane and happy? I haven’t figured it out yet, but I am certainly grateful for the break I had this summer. We rarely did more than one activity a day, and we gave the tasks of daily living their due. Food shopping, laundry, cooking – they each took up a morning or afternoon on a regular basis. At home, these feel like things that are just supposed to happen behind-the-scenes, effortlessly, snuck in between all the “real” things going on. That said, I am grateful for and look forward to all the busy-ness of being surrounded by everyone we love and engaging in everything we love doing. The kids are eager to bike, swim and see their family and friends. And those things take time, just like dancing in the ice-cream shop or spending long enough on the bus that you have a favorite driver.

On our hike up La Bufa, I was asking the kids what they will miss here and what they are most looking forward to at home. No particularly insightful answers, but when I reminded Zeiva that it was our last full day in Mexico, she said, “no quiero ir!” (I don’t want to go!). I was rather surprised, she’s been moaning about wanting to go home to see Papá and Maya for quite a while. Ever since we officially started the count down a week or so ago, she’s been whining, “It’s taking a looooong time!” But I think she’s right, all three of us want to be in both places at the same time. All in all, it was fun down here and so it’s sad to be leaving. And from the language perspective, I personally would love to put the kids in school down here even for a couple of months. Given their progress, by the end of the calendar year, they would easily be truly fluent. But not even an option unless Papá were somehow able to be here, too. And there is no doubt about it, we are itching to get home to family and friends.

My primary goal was to get the kids speaking Spanish. Carolina was asking the kids the other day about whether they dream in Spanish, because that was a sign that their brain was really thinking in Spanish. Neither of them could remember (they don’t often seem to be aware of their dreams, if they are having any). But I did mention how Zeiva has occasionally spoken Spanish in the middle of the night while obviously still asleep. Coincidentally, that very night – the evening Lucas had his last soccer practice – Lucas turned over in his sleep and said, “una pelota! dame la pelota!” (a ball! give me the ball!). Tío, Caro and I have also noticed that they will occasionally say something awkward in English, because they are translating from the Spanish (e.g., I have hungry, instead of I am hungry). Again, a little signal that part of their brain is thinking in Spanish. So, I think we not only survived, but we achieved a little something, which is exciting for me, given I like to get things done. ;)

Tío and Caro have lots of wonderful pictures, so I’ll probably put up one more post of just photos once they send them to me. And that way I don’t have to think up some poetic way to wrap up the story of our summer!

adios casita!