The Chirps of Geckos are Paradise

There is really nothing so symbolic of heaven to me as the clucking of a gecko. You hear them from outside on the balcony or maybe hidden somewhere in your room. The crowing of roosters nearby, when it wakes you up in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning is not quite as pleasant, though.

We had yet another sudden change of plans when our friends David and Priscilla came to Mismaloya (just north of Puerto Vallarta and where Night of the Iguana was filmed, close to where Predator was filmed), along with their two sons, their friends John and Lauren, and John and Lauren's matching-age daughters. David's mom has a great house above Playa Mismaloya, so we got a great place to stay, a beautiful view, a pool, to learn a new card game, and excellent company.

With them we enjoyed great food and delicious margaritas care of the caretaker Victor. We also went, ostensibly for the kids, on a pirate boat tour. The boat was supposedly modeled after the Santa Maria, and included a pirate-outfitted crew of which our group garnered two "personal pirates." It was their job to escort us to and serve us breakfast and lunch, bring us drinks (from the open bar, though we all waited until after water activities to drink), pose for pictures with the kids, and generally take care of us. The boat ride included about an hour and a half ride out and again back, with the destination of Playa Majahuites. The way there included a play put on by the pirates, with swordfighting, intrigue, etc. It did go on, but was cute. There were also games both on the way there and back. Peter and I hid from some of them on the back deck on the way back. Peter and I chose to snorkel before heading to the beach, and saw a few cool fish, but it was not exactly a goldmine. The beach was great -- they set out chairs and umbrellas and had the bartender set up there. By the time I went back for our third round, he knew we would want Palomas (tequila with grapefruit soda) and was mixing them by the time I arrived. Meanwhile the kids were entertained with a treasure hunt, banana boat (ok, Peter and I went on a ride also), and sea kayaking, and our more athletic friends joined the volleyball game. It's not the kind of thing I normally do when I travel, but I was impressed at the attention and care, and the well-oiled machine (tight ship?) they had developed.

After saying goodbye at the airport on Thursday, we took the bus from across the street up to Sayulita, where we are now. Sayulita seems to be the hip new place to go outside of Puerto Vallarta. It has a surfing beach with a bit of swimming opportunity on the sides, though the storms two weeks ago left the water rocky and the drop-offs steep. The town is interesting. It has boutique-y stores and restaurants next to mom-and-pop grocers and street tacos. Last night I discovered the woman who sells cake slices on the main plaza. I have already warned Peter that I will need to return for another slice of her flan tonight. Much of the town is full of foreign visitors and some expats. Aging hippies and young surfers seem to be the main expat residents, while others looking for beach but slightly off the beaten track (like us) make up the visitors. The beach has a lot of beginning surfers, which I find inspiring and welcoming. Not that I'm going to try it, but today I chatted with a couple and their friend who were taking turns paddle surfing for the first time (picture someone standing on a surf board with a paddle, not riding the waves, but just heading over them out pas the breakers), and we all agreed it was a friendly beach for beginners.
We were not sure what we were going to do next. Yelapa seemed like a good option (which Anne and Joshua and I visited 3 years ago, right afte I met Peter, and which Peter had visited for a day), but it turns out the places to stay are a little expensive for us. Our friend Erika has just been in Chacala, which is north of here, and so we looked into that a bit more. There, an organization called Techos de Mexico, in partnership with Habitat for Humanity, has helped families build extra rooms or apartments onto their houses for tourists to use. They are reasonably priced and help support the families.
Oh, I almost forgot: Iguanas! The closest either of us has been to seeing wild iguanas was in Zihuatanejo where a restaurant put out food to attract them. While we were on the pirate beach, we saw our first truly wild iguana: huge and black, and sunning on a rock until we got closer, when it ran and hid. And, of course, we didn't have our camera. However, this morning, after reading a hint online, I guided us to a restaurant for breakfast that backs onto an iguana preserve where, not only did we see a whole ton of iguanas, we saw a major life event: iguanas mating. At first, peter thought the large one was attacking the smaller one. In a sense, I guess he was, but after seeing them not move much once he clobbered (what we realized must be) her, and that he had let go of his bite on her neck and they were just lying there, we decided it must be a different story. Indeed, without going into much more detail and realizing that this already will be TMI, I can say that within days I went from seeing my first wild iguana, to seeing my first iguana's private parts. Yes, we have pictures of the lovely couple, no we don't have pics of that last part.

Thanks to my high school chum, Audrey, who was here about a year ago, we have good recommendations of where to go and what to eat. Last night we checked out her favorite restaurant, Chile Relleno Feliz -- a place we would have never stumbled upon ourselves. It is essentially in a family's front yard, where they have also built and outdoor kitchen. My Chile Relleno was delicious, and I think Peter enjoyed his shrim and steak quesadillas too.

The whales are in town. Humpbacks and their calves can be seen on boating trips that sometimes also include snorkeling and fishing. We were interested but ran into the barrier that you really need a group to go. Having decided to head to Chacala, we plan to try to make it happen once we are there, where we think it will cost less. I have never been whale watching and am pretty excited and hopeful to see them. Plus, I would like another snorkel fix before heading back to my land-locked city of choice.

It's sunset now and all the birds are gathering in the trees to mark their territory with song. Another neat part of the tropics.

What I Miss From Home

My friend Jennifer recently asked me what I miss from home, and right now I'm listening to my brother-in-law, Steve's band playing live on the radio thanks to online streaming, so I thought I'd use this moment to share my list of things I miss:

Comfortable furniture. Our bed is hard and our couch isn't horrible, but not great and small (really a loveseat). Back home I have my wonderful purple couch, and our memory-foam covered bed. Here, sometimes we linger in the Bagel Cafetin because their couches are more comfortable than ours, but it still isn't acceptable to recline on them.

Zachary's pizza, all Asian foods, especially Chinese, Korean and Thai, San Francisco Sourdough bread (thanks to Beth who brought us two loaves of Acme!), Arizmendi pastries, Berkeley Bowl

Our families. Big time. We are so lucky to live near our families most of the time.

Our friends, big time. Meeting new people is great, but nothing compares to a shared history.

So many friends expecting babies and so many babies growing and changing. Our niece, Simone is running and dancing and last time we were there she was just getting her land legs (though she was already a great dancer). It's hard to be away from all that.

The ease of language.

The ease of not standing out.

The Jewish community. Not many Jews here at all. I joked to one of my teachers whose girlfriend is Jewish, "Since you know both the the Jews in town..."

Our cats. Jack is becoming more and more feral without us there to trust, and Bean is at risk of being kidnapped by any member of my family or torn apart by them fighting over him. I still hear a sound or see a slight movement out of the corner of my eye and think it's one of the cats causing a ruckus or settling in to the bed.

Just knowing how to do simple things. Here, we have to buy new gas when the canister runs out. A couple days ago I told our landlady that our gas was low and could she call the guy to replace it? She asked if it was all the way gone and explained that that's how it's done. You wait until it is entirely gone before replacing it. So, I asked, you just don't have gas for a day? Yep. She conceded to our request to call anyway, but then I felt a little like a spoiled brat, not using the canister up the last breath.

I was missing English books, but we just got a whole bunch as visitors left theirs behind for us or brought us requests.

Our home. At times it drives me crazy, keeping up with it, but I do love it so.

I was missing good shampoo, but Beth and I found some in a salon and now I'm happy.

My big fluffy bamboo terry robe that Peter gave me. And my flannel pj's. Peter had beth deliver a robe he ordered for me and it's great but not the same.

Down comforter. We bought big fuzzy blankets that we call, appropriately, the fuzzies. Peter's has deer on it, mine is turquoise and has a Pegasus and the one we share has pandas. They're that kind. And they are not as good.

Potable tap water, though that's not a huge deal.

Our new good knives and all the other wonderful luxuries of our new wedding gifts.

Having an oven (we don't have one), and all the things I can make in it: Chicken Marbella, Lasagna, cookies, etc.

The community at East Bay Arts, the school where I worked the last two years. I get tastes of it on facebook, which is so nice to have, but it's not the same as being a part of it.

Things I don't miss: working, so much more stress, costs of things, American politics (not really avoidable, but a what year already), my messy house, being so busy.

Things I rejoice in here:
Mexican food, the wide availability of sweetened condensed milk, the eggs -- so delicious and deep yellow yolks!, figuring it out, the sun of late, having so much time, relaxing, traveling, seeing new things, meeting new people, learning more Spanish, Vermilion flycatchers, there are bees everywhere right now, sipping cappucinos or cortados, the wonderful choices of drinks like aguas frescas, licuados (milk-fruit drinks), and juices, the recent discovery of delicious Eggs Benedict at the french restaurant and their yummy buffet, street ice cream, street tortas, street food in general, our domed ceilings, the lovely balcony, spending hours solving mind puzzles or logic problems, sharing all this with our visitors, the chirpy voice of our landlords' grandson and his hugs, so much opportunity, having so much time with my new spouse, the joy of missing people and the appreciation of their places in my life.

No Water Today

Guanajuato is in a drought. As a result, there is water rationing. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, we don't get new water. Some other area of the city misses out on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. For the most part, this does not impact us a lot, actually, because our apartment building, like most around here, has a reserve tank on the roof. When I lived in Oaxaca, the water was actually delivered in a truck to that tank and they ran a hose up to it to fill it each time we ran low. Here, they have more advanced plumbing but still have the tanks. Most days, we don't run out of that. Maybe twice we have late in the night, and just after midnight, you hear it running back into the pipes. I can't imagine this happening in the United States. For all the droughts we have had in California (and maybe the big one that happened when I was a baby was different), the response has always been encouragement to decrease your water use, incentives, etc. But our country, with our value of independence so strong that we don't even realize it sometimes, would never just shut off the water three days a week, I think.

Late last night, we heard noises. It sounded like someone was in the unfinished apartment above us, though when people walk on the callejon (alley) outside our room it sounds pretty similar. However, my brother and I both were sure we heard someone on the new metal staircase outside. Then a bang, and suddenly water was pouring out of one of the PVC pipes that comes down from the roof reservoir. Peter went to wake the landlords. They think someone threw a rock from the callejon, but our reports of noises may have convinced them otherwise. Water poured out for a while, until it ran out. So today, a ration day and without the reserve water, no water in the taps. It is not a big deal, really. We have drinking water, because that's not what we drink anyway. I happened to shower and wash dishes yesterday. We can't flush, but as long as the landlords fix the pipes by tonight, we can manage for one day without.

Other bits:

1. My brother, Mark was here for about 5 days. He just left. It was great having him here, and he really liked the city. He is the last of our long stream of visitors for now.

2. Did you know Kinder Eggs are illegal in the U.S.? We learned this from Rahel, who says the U.S. does not allow any food with non-food items inside it. We have kinda gotten into them here. Silly, junky toys inside a chocolate shell that is designed to give kids a little more milk? Awesome.

3. I did complete two more days of cooking class: Chiles Rellenos and Crema de Chayote (Cream of Chayote, which is a squash) on one day and Mole Verde on the other. I loved the green Mole!

4. We enjoyed more tortas from the street yesterday. Delicious. Mark had hoped to go back today, but we didn't really have time in the rush to get a few more items for him to take home and I don't think the stand opens until evening.

5. Mark and I discovered that the Southern French restaurant, where Peter and I had sampled the lunch buffet before, has delicious Eggs Benedict. Awesome Hollandaise sauce! I asked the owner if she could make Eggs Florentine and Blackstone (the latter I had to describe) in the future and she said she would be happy to if they have the ingredients around.

Cooking Class, Day 1: Flautas de Papas con Salsa Roja

The children didn't wash their hands and were closer to the stove than I liked.

That was one impression after my first day of cooking class. Another was: yum.

I finally have started taking the afternoon cooking classes that our language school offers. I say "finally" because I meant to a while ago but between cancellations of the class and wanting to have afternoons free for our onslaught of visitors, actually doing it has waited until this week.

The class is taught in the school's kitchen by a local woman and my classmates this week are three adults and the three children who go with a combination of them: one of the families is from Oregon and the other from Colorado. I liked them, but tomorrow I might suggest, "Let's all go wash our hands before we begin!"

Today we made Flautas de Papas con Salsa Roja (Potato "Taquitos" with Red Salsa). I learned about a chili and about a cheese, two things I feel pretty ignorant of here, apart from some familiar basics (there is a ton of unappealing processed cheese choices, and I know the delicious Oaxacan Quesillo, which is all I feel confident to buy, plus anaheim, poblano, jalapeno and guajillos chilies, but that's just the tip of the chili iceberg).

As the person who clearly washed her hands, I was given the task of cutting up the lettuce, tomatoes, and onions that would go on top fresh -- not a great challenge, but not so bad to be using a sharp knife again (I miss my good wedding knives!). Then, I took over frying the flautas.

Meanwhile, others toasted the dry pullo chilies one at a time over the flame, then pulled off the stem and dropped each one in the blender. The children took the peels off the tomatillos and cut each one in half. Those were then fried in a little oil and added to the blender, along with garlic "dientes" (teeth! that's how you say cloves! how cool is that?), a little water, and some salt. Blend, and voila, you have some good red salsa with a little kick.

The filling of the flautas was made from boiled potatoes, peeled then mashed with queso ranchero (like farmer's cheese back home: blocky and bland). The kids got to mash this up and spread it with spoons on the corn tortillas before one of us adults fried them up.

Spread on top some crema (I always think of it as like sour cream, but it's more like creme fraiche), the salsa, and the tomatoes, lettuce and onion so carefully sliced by me, and there you have it.

Meanwhile, because I had some ideas already, I set the menu for the rest of the week, even as I said I was not sure how many days I would be there. Tomorrow we will make chiles rellenos and sopa (soup) de chayote, something I am excited to work with. One day we'll do mole verde, and another will be chiles en nogada. I told them I probably won't be in class on Friday (my brother arrives Thursday night), so I don't remember if they chose a dish for that day or not.

I have actually never taken a cooking class before, and was not sure there was much value to it. Honestly, I mostly just choose a recipe for something I like and make it. So far, I think the advantages of today's class were the social part (it was fun talking to the other adults in class), and the experience of making something as a group which makes it appear much easier (especially when there is someone there whose job it is to do the dishes afterward, as was the case today). I also learned that tomatillos are called "tomates" here (I already knew that red tomatoes are called "jitomate"), and hope to learn more kitchen vocabulary.

Pics up

Pictures of our Hanuka party, Christmas, visits from Jesse and Eli, Beth, and beginning of Rahel and Caroline (click me).

Tacos de What? and Other Street Food Adventures

The first time I came to Mexico as an adult, I was pretty shy about street food. I didn't want to spend my vacation in the bathroom, and had heard and read all sorts of warnings. Towards the end of the trip, though, my friend and I were introduced to the street of empanadas of Oaxaca. More like large quesadillas, this food was divine. Large, handmade tortillas put on the comal, with the addition of combinations of cheese, epazote, shredded chicken, and rich sauces, at $15 pesos each ($1.50USD). Two, plus an orange soda, were big enough for a meal. These were also a great discovery for our budgets. Thus ended my ban on street food, though at the time I still would not sample the uncooked greens, though I would look longingly at the cilantro.

These days, I trust that the cilantro is cleaned with purified water, I spread on the salsa after sampling to see whether it's just too hot for me, and I order my meat tacos, my tortas, my tamales, my ice cream, and sit on a nearby bench or a curb to enjoy. Peter and I often use the policy that if a lot of people are eating there, it is probably good (this is actually how we found one of our still-favorite restaurants in San Francisco on our first date).

Beth and I had a day of such sampling around town while she was here. It started when we walked out of my favorite artsy shop and I spotted a bunch of children walking by with something in their hands. "We must go where they came from!" I declared. "I know where it is!" And I led Beth to the wonderful man who sells pineapple ice cream with chili. I got limon and pina with chili, Beth had pina and delicious coconut, sin picante. Later, I went for a slice of the pastel de nata (cream cake) in the mercado. As we exited, we grabbed a bag of fresh, green garbanzos, still in their shells. We elected for only limon and salt on them, and wandered to a nearby square to sit and suck out the beans inside. Some of the beans inside were mature and resembled the white ones we find in cans; others, my favorites, were younger and still green, closer to peas, but with a hint of that starchy flavor. We headed to the next square over, and I saw that a kid of about 13 was selling a drink of some sort out of his family's key-making shop. Next to it was a bowl of white powder. The sign said Cebadina, and I asked him what it was. He explained that cebadina is a mix of agua de jamaica (hibiscus tea), pineapple, and raspberry juices. Then, he said, you add this (pointing at the white stuff) and it gets bubbly. I was in. He ladeled the juice, handed it to me -- who handed it to Beth so I could take a picture -- and brought up a spoonful of the fizzer. He paused and looked at us expectantly. We waited. Finally, he dumped the spoon into the drink, and I started taking pictures -- as the drink overflowed onto Beth's hands. "Drink, drink!" said the boy. So we did, and managed to deal with the overflow problem. Yummy fruity soda was what it was, and it was pretty good, too. Couldn't taste any baking soda at all.

Today was a different story. Rahel and I headed to the Sunday market not far from our apartment. There, the woman from whom I bought used clothes (I think the shirt is a common Target label), told me she got her cafe de olla from upstairs. Upstairs? Peter and I had never known! Rahel and I ventured up. We never found the cafe, but that was ok, because we found the fruits and vegetables! Meanwhile, I started to get a bit hungry. I saw a few taco stands, one that seemed particularly popular. Not sure where to sit, I must have looked indecisive, because an older man working there put together a small serving of a taco and handed it over. It tasted good -- the meat, which I thought looked like beef, was tender. I felt one thing crunch, but decided that was in the salsa he'd poured on. I asked him if this was beef? pork? and he seemed maybe not to hear me, or maybe didn't understand my accent, and waved me off with a smile. Then I spotted two stools, grabbed them, and ordered "dos mas". I had taken a couple bites, when a younger man came to clean near me. By now, there was definitely something crunchy and I was carefully feeling through the rest of the meat to pull out small spiney-looking pieces, along with anything not just looking like muscle. I asked the young man what type of meat I was eating. "Chivitas." I paused. I didn't know this word, but the first thing that popped into my imagination was guinea pig (though I also knew it wasn't that, because I know the word for guinea pig). "What's that like?" I asked. "You don't know what chivitas is?" he laughed. We all laughed. I gave him a big hammy grin and went to take another bite. We all laughed. Just then, I thought, chivitas...chivas...the futbol team!...their mascot is a goat..."Cabra?" I asked. "Si, si. Cabra."