New Years Eve

Chapultepec Park

Chapultepec Park is one of the largest public green spaces in Latin America. The public park has tree lined paths filled with venders and houses a zoo, a lake for boating and a number of art and history museums. It’s a popular weekend spot, especially on Sunday when the museum entrances are free.

I decided, perhaps unwisely, the join the crowds on this beautiful sunny day. I climbed the hill to the Castillo of Chapultepec to be rewarded with an expansive view of the surrounding landscape. Once the residence of Mexican rules, the Castle now houses the National History Museum. The museum offers a concise history beginning with the conquest through the revolution. I especially enjoyed the murals of O’Gorman and Siqueiros.

The stroll down the highest hill of the park was a lot more leisurely despite the increasing crowds. Since I had visited the Museum of Modern Art on a previous trip, I walked to the Museum of Rufino Tamayo. The contemporary art is housed in a unique concrete and glass building that was awarded the national prize for architecture in 1981. The current exhibit featured several South Korean artists and the permanent exhibit included works by O’Keefe, Miró and Tamayo himself.

Frida and Diego

Frida was too good for him, but love, loyalty and probably locura (craziness) continued tie her to him. Frida mirrored her troubled life – marked by a childhood of polio, a traffic accident that that broke her back and caused severe pain throughout her life, and a tumultuous marriage (twice) to Mexico’s famous muralist – in her unique and unforgettable paintings. And Diego, well, he loved her – in his own way. She suffered through his notorious womanizing, though not without her own affairs, most notably with the Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky.

The Casa Azul, in the Coyoacán neighborhood, where Frida was born, lived much of her life and eventually died, now is a wonderful museum to fill my fascination with the life and work of Frida Kahlo. During previous visits to Mexico City, I have satisfied this allure of all things Frida and Diego by visiting museums and murals of two of Mexico’s most distinguished artists.

By exploring San Ángel, the neighboring barrio of Coyoacán, I was able to visit a new area of the city and satiate my Frida obsession today. San Ángel is one of the wealthier areas of the city with colorful colonial architecture and stone streets lined with flowers. Plaza Jacinto, the center of San Ángel, hosts a large art market and many artisan vendors that attract many tourists, especially on Saturdays.

A short walk through the windy streets led me to Museo Estudio Diego Rivera that was built by Juan O’Gorman for Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo in 1931-1932. The two houses, one blue and one red, are connected by a roof top bridge and surrounded by a cactus hedge. Diego’s house has a large living room / studio with a wall of windows that allows the sunlight to pour into the minimalist architecture. It is one of the few rooms in the entire museum that contains an assortment of his personal belongings like paintbrushes, papier-mâché skeletons and pre-Columbian pottery.

Diego´s house

Frida´s house

Frida´s house

Diego´s house

While the houses displays none of Frida’s work and only a few sketches and paintings of Diego, there are several rooms of photographs of the two that allow me to imagine what it must have been like for Frida to live in the artsy neighborhoods of Coyoacán and San Ángel during the 1930s and 1940s. And if you have seen the movie, Frida, you will recognize the museum since part of it was filmed there. With the 1.5 km walk to Coyoacán, I finished my day of Frida.

Christmas

Las Posadas

There was a knock on the door as we were baking cookies with Isabel. The neighbors invited us to a posada they were having for the apartment block – the cutout cookies could wait.

We joined the others in the entry way of the apartments, sipping Coke and munching on wafers and potato chips while listening to salsa music. When we had a crowd of 10-15 people, we began our posada. The Posadas typically begin on December 16 and continue for the nine days preceding Christmas.

In a single file line, we walked around the apartment block while carrying candles. The woman, who seemed to be the organizer, led the procession. Another woman carried large plastic replicas of Mary and Joseph, who would be asking for posada (shelter). Using a small booklet that had the words to the song as a guide, there was a call and response type of dirge that continued until we arrived at the designated apartment, which conveniently was the empty apartment in a central location.

After some discussion, several of the participants agreed to be inside the apartment so that the rest of us would have someone to whom we could ask for posada. Since there was only one booklet with the words, there were some comical pauses as they passed the booklet back and forth. I didn’t feel so bad not knowing what to do or sing as most of the others didn’t seem to know what do either.

With the ritual completed, it was time to party. And it would not be a party without piñatas. The first of the three large piñatas was ready. We sang the piñata song and after several turns, the piñata broke. I was surprised to see not candy, but jicama, oranges, apples and peanuts falling to the ground.

With the three piñatas broken and the music and drinking beginning again, we decided to return to baking. When we left to go home at 11:30pm, there were still a dedicated few enjoying the last of the food and drink from the posada.

The Nutcracker

The National Auditorium where we saw La Cascanueces (The Nutcracker).

Natalie and I in front of the Christmas tree and large nutcracker.

I love poinsettias!

We had great seats – first row, center, balcony – in the National Auditorium for a traditional performance of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker.

Winter Wonderland - Mexico City Style

I hear that there is a big snow storm that is about to blanket much of the Northeast. Well, who needs a snowstorm when Mexico City’s Zócalo is a short metro ride away from you? And you can forget the gloves and hats at home.

This evening I emerged from the crowded and hot metro to discover a winter wonderland of sorts that blanketed the Zócalo. The Zócalo was lit up with lights of poinsettias, stars and the nacimiento (nativity scene) on the surrounding buildings. The choices of winter activities were abundant.

I had my choice of ice skating surrounded with bleachers filled with spectators or riding snowmobiles in a small ring of fake snow. Beside the long line for snowmobiles was a line for sledding. And by sledding I mean dragging an inner tube up a short flight of stairs and sliding down a short incline – less than half a minute. For the less active, there was a tent lined with tables that would eventually hold tens of little snowmen made by molds. Groups of parents and their children huddled around the less than foot and half mold to stuff it with melting snow to make the small snowman before the next family reused the mold. So much for unique hand made snowman. And perhaps my favorite, there was a tent full of kids having a snowball fight.

What better way to make a pint size snowman then with a mold.

I decided to leave the winter activities to those for whom the snow was a novelty and walked down Calle Madero which had been converted into a pedestrian street. I was taken back to memories of Las Ramblas in Barcelona. Groups of holiday makers crowded around statues. Among others, there was the man completely painted in silver, the ancient Aztec and my favorite, a pretty well done Michael Jackson look alike.

With a week from Christmas, Mexico City is ready, with or without the snow and cold.

Christmas Party in Zacango

In the spirit of the holidays, we had a Christmas party in Zacango on the Sunday, December 13 at Bruce and Jaime’s house. The sign outside posted the events beginning at 6; however, since Bruce, Manuel and several others were still playing soccer, Jaime and I tried to entertain the throngs of children gathering outside of the house. The excitement was building.

Handful by handful, we filled the two piñatas that Bruce and Jaime bought from a woman in the community who makes extra money by making and selling piñatas during the holidays. I bought a third piñata from her for all of the extra candy that would be ant infested if it wasn’t put to good use.

Before the main event of piñatas, most of the children of the community burned off excess energy lucha libre style while parents and community members laughed and clapped, thoroughly entertained. The party moved outside when I gave the children chispas (sparklers), a standard at any party. In less than five minutes the air was filled with flying sparks in every direction giving the whole scene a slightly dangerous, though entirely Mexican party atmosphere. Some of the teenage boys managed to snag a handful of the chispas, which started a chispa battle as they hurled them at each other. It’s a good thing fire codes are non existent.

Thankfully, before the dried zacate caught on fire, the blue piñata was strung across the road ready to be broken. The smallest children lined up to get the first hits at the piñata. We all sang the piñata song to mark how much time each child was allowed.

Dale, dale, dale.

No pierdas el tino

Porque si lo pierdes,

Pierdes el camino.

Ya le diste uno,

Ya le diste dos,

Ya le diste tres y tu tiempo se acabó.

When the piñata finally burst, I was more than surprised when all of the youth and adults who were watching the festivities made a mad dash for the candy that was scattered underneath the piñata. The pushing and shoving from the children made complete sense given that there was unfair competition.

The second piñata broke with the help of a blind folded Bruce after several wild misses with the bat that dispersed the crowd of children. With shouts of Don Luis, the community mayor, the children convinced Luis to be turned around three times while blind folded and swing at our last piñata before he decided it was easier to throw off the blind fold and rip the remaining shreds of the piñata.

With our quota of sugar, laughs and entertainment, we said our goodbyes until the New Year.

La Virgen de Guadalupe

The alarm interrupted my sleep at 4:15am so that I could dress quickly and begin the walk under the stars at 4:30am. It was Tuesday, eight days into the daily masses at the Sanctuary to honor la Virgen Guadalupe. With a slight chill pulsing through me and the crowing chickens serenading me, I spiraled my way to the Sanctuary that was shining on top of the hill.

I hustled to be able to attend the first of the four masses of the day at 5am, since it was supposedly the most attended. Since I only met a handful of people on my pilgrimage, I thought for sure that I would be sitting at the church with at most ten other people crazy enough to wake up in the middle of the night to hear mass.

So you can image my surprise when I finally arrived at the Sanctuary only to discover that I would have to stand outside of the church with the 20 or 30 other people who did not fit into the church. I stood, kneeled and listened along with an abuela, a group of young people in their school uniforms and a father who was trying to keep his daughters from giggling. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I appreciated the Christmas colored decorations, which conveniently are the same colors as Mexico’s flag. Near the end of mass as we passed the peace, I snuck a look inside the brightly lit church that was filled with flowers of all colors and illuminated by hundreds of candles.

As the sun began to rise scattering the stars, I joined the crowd walking down the hill to town, greeting the believers who were walking the opposite direction to attend the 6am mass. I was amazed at the belief that would require this dedication.

The masses began on December 1, with four sometimes five daily masses, two in the morning at 5am and 6am and two in the evening at 5pm and 6pm. The masses continued until December 12, the day la Virgen de Guadalupe first appeared to Juan Diego in the mid 1500s. There is now a Basilica on the sight where she first appeared near Mexico City where thousands make annual pilgrimages to honor her.

As I was told the story of the Virgin’s appearance by my “host” family, I was awed by the conviction that they held, as I am far from venerating Saints and the Virgin. Pepe assured me that numerous studies and tests were done by scientists that verify the apparition. I couldn’t help being amused by the need to verify through science what is inherently intangible and elusive – faith.

About ten years ago, the Virgin reappeared in Guerrero and was seen in New York and throughout the world by believers. Pepe, who claims profound belief, was not fortunate enough to see her; however, Liz and Carmen both assured me that they saw her through the rainbow that arced over Olinalá. Carmen told of the raindrops that fell to the ground as pearls, pearls of the Virgin.

The days leading up to the 12^th were filled with processions culminating in a Friday evening of the typical fiesta activities – fireworks, food and music. I retraced my steps of Tuesday morning, except on Friday night I was joined by hundreds on the journey. The Sanctuary had become a fair-like spectacle. The mariachi music from the radio competed with the five man brass band that played out of tune. The people sat at the tables eating the pizza, tacos and numerous other less than healthy snack options. People filtered in and out of the church individually honoring la Virgen, but the main event was the castillo of fireworks.

As the first of the lower fireworks showered on the people directly below the large fireworks structure, I was reminded of my hometown Scottdale. I’m positive that the firefighters of the Scottdale Volunteer Fire Department would feel at home with the excitement of the sparks nearly setting the tarps of the food vendors on fire, climbing the metal structure to light the spiraling figures, and the last firework structure launching from the top of the structure with the hope that it burns out before it falls to the ground.

With the festivities of the evening behind them, Olinalá entered the 12^th, Día de la Virgen de Guadalupe, in a spirit of veneration. The hourly masses began at 5am, with the last mass at 1:00 that would honor the runners who had relayed from the Basilica in DF to Olinalá. At 3:30pm, the faithful carried the Santita from the Sanctuary to the church in the Zocalo to end the twelve day festivities.

Las Fiestas de Zacango

In the months proceeding December 7 and 8 there was intense planning and soliciting of funds for the annual fiestas in Zacango honoring la Virgen de Concepcion. When I arrived around 6:30pm, the men were setting up the lights around the bull riding ring that would shine on the ten bulls and amateur riders.

I walked to the basketball court in the middle of town that had been transformed into a restaurant; people crowded around plastic tables eating pozole (broth with large corn kernels, topped with pork and the choice of adding fresh lime, salt and chile) and drinking Coke and beer. One corner of the municipal building acted as the kitchen where the women of the community dished out bowl after bowl of pozole for the invited guests from surrounding communities who were scattered around the basketball court. The young women of the community, dressed in their finest, served the 50 or so people who ate in shifts.

Doña Antonio, with a huge smile on her face, deposited a heaping bowl of pozole in my hands before I could refuse, and I was soon installed in a chair with a good view of the action. At a near by table, the young boys, who had been part of the procession dressed as tigers or as outrageous, scantily clad women, took a break from dancing to the brass band and indulged in the festival pozole and spirits.

With my fill of food, I returned to the bull ring joining the crowd for the first bull rider. The music boomed and the announcer pumped up the crowd. The thrill of the potential danger pulled a group of boys to the waiting pen, where the bull was coerced into submission. For all of the anticipation and waiting, the first bull was disappointing as when they finally opened the gate, he was laying in a heap on the ground. Several men had to drag the bull out into the ring before it decided to be part of the spectacle.

As the night wore on, the bulls got bigger and more active, jumping and bucking. The riders, with spurs tied to their boots, held on valiantly to the rope tied around the waist of the bull before calling the rodeo clowns to lasso and distract the bull while they escaped to safety. About five or six bulls in, we saw the sparks fly signaling the beginning of the castillo (fireworks display) that was set up by the church. We took off running as if one of the bulls were chasing to be able to see the remaining fireworks.

We arrived in time to see the swirling sparks and lights explosions. The “women” and tigers danced under the falling sparks and the drum kept time for the brass band. As the last firework died out, the revelers filed into the church to venerate the reason for the fiestas.

Beside the church, the basketball court, once restaurant, had been converted into a dance hall. The tables had been cleared to make way for a dance floor, which was completely bereft of dancers. On one end, a stage had been set up with an elaborate sound system for the hired band that was beginning to play to an empty dance floor. This was partly due to the bull riding activity that captivated much of the attention and largely due to the ridiculous entry fee that was required.

As the bull riding ended and with the liquor and beer taking effect, people drifted over to the dance. Women and men, young and old surrounded the empty dance floor listening to the band convince them to pay and enter. However, with patience, they knew from experience that they eventually would be allowed into the dance free of charge. I decided to forgo the evening dance that would last until the wee hours of the morning.

The next day the fiestas continued with more drinking and bull riding, basketball tournaments and general merriment. The stamina and time that communities devote to fiestas is quite amazing. And all in the name of la Virgen.

Thanksgiving and Team Time

With the oldest two Freisen-Pankratz kids sleeping on an old mattress in the back of the grey Toyota, Bruce, Jaime and I passed the time talking and laughing on our way to Mexico City for a week of meetings with the rest of MCC Mexico. We left from Zacango early, so that we could spend the afternoon in Cuernavaca, about an hour and a half from Mexico City.

The road we traveled to arrive in Mexico City. We took a different route home.

Cuernavaca became Cortés’s home after he destroyed much of the Aztec structures in and around the area. The Palacio de Cortés which today houses the Museo de Cuauhnáhuac, is a huge stone fortress built on the base of a pyramid. The museum exhibits highlight Mexican history and culture. I especially enjoyed the Diego Rivera mural on the second floor balcony. The mural was commissioned in the 1920s as a gift to the people of Cuernavaca by US ambassador Dwight Marrow. It depicts scenes of the Spanish conquest through the 1910 revolution, which was just celebrated on November 20.

A small part of the mural by Diego Rivera.

I walked through the Plaza de Armas which has the distinction of being the only main plaza in Mexico without a church, chapel, convent or cathedral overlooking it. It did, however, have the usual activity of vendors and the young and old relaxing under shade trees. I made my way to the Jardín Borda which was constructed in 1783 for a Taxco silver magnate. The highlight was a chance for shade and relaxation among the terraces, paths and fountains of the vast gardens in the middle of the city.

My final stop on my quick tour of Cuernavaca was across the street to the Cathedral compound. If there is one thing that Cortés knew how to do, it was build a fortress. Large high walls fortify the four chapels and cathedrals. The main cathedral has high dome ceilings that would achieve Cortés’s goal to make the heathen cower to the All Mighty.

With a cursory view of Cuernavaca complete and shadows of evening approaching, we continued the journey to Mexico City. By the time we arrived to barrio San Ángel where we were staying at a Lutheran Center, we were exhausted after a long day navigating overland by car and underground by metro. I briefly met everyone as a few of us plotted our attack for our Thanksgiving meal.

MCC Mexico is a diverse group representing eight nationalities. The country representatives, Ricardo and Marion are from Colombia and South Africa. Bruce and Jaime, living in Zacango, are from Canada. Eleisio and Kirsten, living in Chiapas, are from Brazil and the US. Manuel, working in Guerrero, is from Morelos, Mexico. Natalie is living in Cuernavaca for the year with SALT and is from the US. Marcos, from Argentina, is living in DF through the YAMEN program. Finally, Ana Julia is returning to Nicaragua after finishing her year of YAMEN working with the churches in Mexico City.

Our team building exercises on Friday and Saturday focused on speaking our truth, trust and giving grace. These skills are vital when working in a team, but also in our personal relationships with family and friends. I appreciated the time to reflect how I can better apply these skills in team life, but also in my personal life. Somewhere in all this reflection by the team, it was deemed that I was someone who had the ability to hold the team together by listening and appreciating diversity. Anything I can do to help.

We celebrated Thanksgiving with the appropriate food of turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie and mashed potatoes – or better described as runny potatoes. One of my only responsibilities was to make the mashed potatoes, which you would think would be difficult to mess up. But, funny things happen when you don’t drain all of the water from the potatoes. Despite the odd consistency, they still tasted good and the team was generous as they showed me grace.

Our meetings also included a time of strategic planning for the next five years, which included the participation of the Latin American Directors, Mark Epp, living in Costa Rica, and Eduard Klassen from the Chaco, Paraguay. It will be interesting to see how MCC Mexico works on the issue of internal migration and immigration as it was a new area of work that was highlighted as important.

While in Mexico City, Natalie and I went to the movie theater near the Lutheran Center and saw Ang Lee’s Welcome to Woodstock that was part of an International Film Festival. There was plenty of peace and love, but lacking on the sweet sounds of the music. Another afternoon I walked the markets of Coyoacán that were filled with Christmas decorations including gaudy colored tinsel, elaborate nativity scenes and colored, twinkling lights.

The Christmas season was in high gear in Mexico City, and upon return to Olinalá late Wednesday evening, it became apparent that the holidays had arrived in Guerrero as well. I was welcomed home by a huge colored star that twinkles and flashes on night long outside my bedroom window.

The return trip offered incredible views of the two volcanoes, Popocatepetl and Iztaccihuatl. The picture doesn't do it justice.

Picture circle star flashing and sparkling color - every night. Another highlight is that the house bears pride to the PUMA soccer team and the crucifix, one of which can be found in every room of my house.