Need a hit of Talavera man?

Take yourself to a Talavera pottery factory. No, take yourself and your four children to numerous Talavera pottery factories. One after another. Like junkies needing a fix we simply could NOT stay away. We want more and more and more. We currently have SIX FULL BOXES of pottery (for friends and family, natch) and are greedily thinking of more. Must Have More Talavera. It goes for a song on Ebay and I can’t figure out why some pieces go and others don’t, so we’ve discarded the idea that we could simply sell the surplus. We were, however, able to see the process of Talavera pottery from beginning to end. And by George, we just might to see “the process” once again. You know, to educate the children. You know, so they can see the process (the process of their parents’ blowing the budget to smitherines).

No matter where you are; narrow cobblestone road, 4 lane highway or at the iglesia, horses are everywhere. Horse and rider take care when crossing a 4-lane highway, but they do it numerous times daily. Goatherders on horseback riding along the roadside and hearing the clip clop approaching on cobblestones while you’re sitting in the shade of the iglesia. Goats and cows dot the sides of the roads while the cowboy and herding dogs keep them out of danger.

Memories… (cause we’re SUPPOSED to be leaving today)

Along the roadway, hastily arranged roadside stands; the pickup beds decorated with a tall corn
stalk on each of the 4 corners and the bed full of freshly picked corn. A tarp over a few sticks for sunshade and a pot full of coals roasting the fresh corn. Families picknicking on the grass, sweet corn juice running down their chins. The largest concentration of roadside stands and picknickers were right alongside the fields of growing corn.

The rain rolling in, early to late afternoon and slowly turning the hills from brown to green. When we arrived, the news and people we met were full of concern about the lack of rains. Within days, the rains arrived; so much so, that we got stuck in our camp.

The incredible quantity and quality of pottery. If we never purchase another piece of Talavera pottery we will have missed out on a full life. We began with what seemed a simple and practical plan; we purchased some pieces as gifts. Then we decided to buy some for ourselves, for When We Settle Down Somewhere. Then we decided that MANY MORE people would definitely NEED these gifts and more gifts and then we found the factory to beat all factories and the most beautiful (and pricey, for factory prices) pottery. And of course, we had to buy some for more people and of course the kids needed some and then we were back to the first and second places we bought pieces from and had to have just a wee bit more and now we have at least SIX large boxes of pottery for friends and family. Oh, and ourselves. But not too much for ourselves. We completely and utterly blew the budget to bits and could honestly purchase oh so much more. The kids picked up broken bits of pottery (as well as purchasing whole pieces as gifts and for themselves) and when they were unable to get rid of the broken bits, I was mercenary and got rid of them myself. I’ll be surprised if we manage to roll down the road with the load of pottery we’re carrying. We were, however, by visiting the factories, able to watch the pottery being made, pottery being painted, pottery awaiting firing and pottery waiting to be painted.

It is so hard to believe it is summer. After coming from the Yucatan, we have to remind ourselves that THIS IS summer, as we keep thinking we’re in winter. Long pants daily; sweatshirts in the evening; this is the way to live summer. We dragged out long lost pants and long lost shirts and the girls haven’t worn a dress since we came up the grade.

I have had to imbed so many photos in my head of Santa Rosa J as I simply didn’t want to become such a tourist in “my town”. This is the town I get Internet access; where I buy our bread; where I get veggies and fruits; where the cheese and meat person keeps better prices than San Miguel and knows what I want; where the son of the fruiteria owner (yes, you go to the panaderia for bread; the fruiteria for fruit and veggies, the carniceria for meat, the cremeria for dairy, the water store for purified water, the pasteleria for empanadas and one of the numerous carnita stands for a kilo or so of cooked carnitas) will get fresher cantelopes out of the fridge for me; I have so many photos in my head because it would seem so vulgar to snap one when I’m shopping…

The pictures have absolutely NOTHING to do with the post. Oh, except for the pottery. Drool… Chris, if you’re reading, I included a picture of a palapa. I don’t think I ever posted one for you. Sorry…

La Cuña de Independencia

Well, we found out why the frist two rooms we were shown were interior rooms. We chose the “outside” room as it is a two-room room and we have two balconies and it simply seemed so quaint. It was REALLY quaint until the night. At 9pm there was a light and sound show at the church (where Hidalgo issued his “Grito” of independence) which pretty much enacted the grito with MUCH noise and sound. That was followed by what sounded like a parade of Harley Davidsons right outside our windows. The balcony doors really don’t close all the way; there is a nice gap at the bottom (for air flow, I assume). So not only did we get to enjoy the sound of the loud autos but also the exhaust. Yummy! The Harleys or very many autos with bad or non-existant mufflers (now I know why we pass SO MANY muffler shops on the road) were interspersed with Very Loud Rap Playing Autos. We could feel the vibrations before the music arrived.

We enjoyed a nice interlude of quiet until the iglesia began to sound the bells. Oh My Goodness.Not content to sound them a few times, we counted, each time they sounded it 40-50 times and seemed to be every 30 minutes to an hour. This began before dawn and ended at about 8am. The desk clerk said it was to notify people of masses. I asked him why the bells sounded 40-50 times and he just laughed. What a silly question, gringa.

(sissy took this picture)We’re considering staying another night as WE HAVE LIVE TOUR COVERAGE IN OUR HOTEL ROOM. At this very minute, we’re watching the last 20km of Stage 7! Stuey’s in the front, Go OZ!

We’re having a bit of trouble getting out of our trailer park; the rains have made the ground so soft that I actually got stuck twice just driving the van out. We’re hoping for a couple days of hot sun and no rain and we still may not get out. Yet another reason that we’re in our lovely Dolores Hidalgo. If we have to be stuck somewhere, we’re more than happy to spend the time in Dolores.

Jamie got to see the Tour LIVE this morning and after having a particularly wonderful ride to the foothills of Guanajuato (got to find out what range that is) we decided to spend another day here in Dolores. We’re feeling absolutely and positively PAMPERED here in a HOTEL! We’re dreading the campanas of the iglesia this morning (according to the desk clerk, they are at 5:40am and 6:40 am, but I could SWEAR they were every 30 min from 4am on) but the location is so worth it.

The kids and I chatted forever with a wonderful Indian woman selling roasted corn and painted some ceramics with another woman while Jamie was riding. We made friends with another family who is having a wedding tomorrow in the iglesia. We visited the house of Hidalgo and the Museum of Independence (here in Dolores) this morning and the children are thoroughly “historied up”.

Dolores Hidalgo

We keep coming back to Dolores Hidalgo. The town is so tranquil and lovely; I completely disagree with the Lonely Planet Guidebook representation. We had contemplated staying the night in Guanajuato, but after making multiple trips to Dolores, decided we’d spend a hotel night here. We’re currently at the best hotel in town, right on the plaza, have a King, a double and a twin with two balconies for 500 pesos. All rooms face an inner courtyard that has been converted into a restaurant and the third floor is a terrace bar and restaurant. This is the first town we’ve been to that I could definitely consider living in. Very few gringos, a very real town and the few hotels that exist cater to vacationing Mexicans (as this town is something of a pilgrimage site to Mexicans).

It has been so lovely to visit the town; we went to our favorite eating place in the municipal market and had yet another wonderful meal. Ninety five pesos for six quesadillas, five hot shredded pork (and many other ingredients) sandwiches, seven glasses of jamaica. Absolutely the most food we’ve gotten for that amount of money.

The kids made fast friends of a local family (and their kids) and we talked til sunset about families, life in the US and life in Mexico. The kids were so sad to find that their friends didn’t spend the night in the plaza waiting for them to return this morning.

But the best thing about staying in a hotel in town? Jamie is enjoying Tour coverage via one of the ESPN stations. He now realizes that he could have been watching it all along if he’d taken my advice and asked the restaurant next to our camping spot if they carried ESPN International. (they do)
Jesse had an amazing birthday. Pike was absolutely certain that Jesse would get absolutely NO presents and it would be a horrid day. We started the day with a release of the toys (the boys enormous quantities of toys have been in isolation for a couple weeks) and Jesse said that was the best present he could hope to get. He and Pike spent hours playing with their long lost toys and stuffed animals. We then headed to la Bodega (a giant superstore) that he wanted to visit and got a few presents. Much earlier in the day he had asked if Mexico had anything like “The Jungle” (a playarea we used to go to in the Bay Area) and I told him no. Believe it or not, as we left the Bodega store, and I took a different route to avoid some toys that were keeping Ellen captive, we found a “Jungle” like place. Simply amazing. So, I bought socks (just like at the Jungle ) and they played for an hour.

We had dinner at the restaurant and I snuck a cake and candles in earlier, so Jesse was enormously surprised to have a cake brought from the kitchen to finish the meal. Both he and Pike admitted that it we pulled out a wonderful birthday.

Dolores Hidalgo is the birthplace of the Mexican Independence (from Spain) movement and the entire town is steeped in history. It is quite colonial and the town square (and surrounding area) has beautifully painted homes and businesses. The boys and I headed out and explored the area and found a second municipal market and made some purchases. Jesse must have smelled this dulceria. A dulceria is a sweet shop, but on a grand scale. Generally, almost all items for sale are bulk quantities. It is simply a wonderland for the kids. In this last picture, note the flavors of ice cream.

Le Tour frustrations

If you don’t recognize “Le Tour” you might want to skip this one too…

We have been desperately trying to find Le Tour on TV Azteca. According to the official Tour website, Mexico (which for some reason known only to the French resides on the continent of South America) is supposed to carry Le Tour on TV Azteca. We haven’t been able to find it yet, have no Internet access (Velosport provides stage text coverage the last 3 hours of a stage) and are searching for a bar or cantina or restaurant with ESPN International (which is supposed to carry live coverage). Postings on the Velosport forum, emails to TV Azteca, Velosport and OLN and screaming to the winds have produced no results. Looking at the date, I realize that a holiday is in the works. One year ago, people from all over Mexico marched on DF demanding a decrease in kidnappings, violence, murder and violence against politicians. July 2nd was the anniversary of this march and celebrations commerating the decrease in violence were planned. Course, I gathered all this from the news and could be wrong on some points.

Me thinks that there might be another celebration happening north of the border, but why ANYONE would design to leave the comfort of their cable TV while Le Tour is on is beyond me. We watch no TV other than the month of July (Le Tour) and September (Giro de España). When we lived in a stick house (that’s how RV’ers refer to houses that aren’t on wheels; aren’t I so With the LINGO?) I would order cable TV once a year and take advantage of free installation and 3 months 1/2 price and then once the Giro was over the cable was turned off. Ten years of that and the cable company never once refused. They too must have understood the NEED for Tour coverage.

Eleven years ago, I was washing dishes in the teeny tiny kitchen of our first home (rental). The kitchen was so incredibly tiny that only one person could walk into it at a time. Of course, Jamie was watching Le Tour on TV. All of a sudden I felt a gush (you might want to excuse yourself from this one also; I can’t seem to let go of bodily fluids today…) and wondered if I’d just peed on myself. I was 9 months pregnant and due in two weeks. I wandered into the bathroom (well, more like waddled with my legs pressed tightly together; quite a feat when you’re so off balance by the enormous protrusion on your belly, that you are likely to fall over in a light wind) and waited. It didn’t take long to realize that it was not pee but my bag of waters.  While only 15% of pregnant women actually break their water before labor, I managed to achieve that feat in 3 out of 4 pregnancies.

Anyway, this being our first, Jamie bounded out of his chair and began running about the tiny little house in circles (which was much harder than it sounds due to the size of the place) discarding ideas of what to do as soon as they entered his head. I calmly sat and waited for the frenzy to stop. We found paper and pen and waited for the contractions to start so we’d have something to time. Surely we would have SOMETHING to time, no? We called the doctor (our first was born in hospital) and were told to come immediately to hospital. We decided to wait until we could wait no longer. My contractions began every 15 minutes and were, within the hour, at every 2 minutes. This didn’t seem to fit the textbook model and we were certain that delivery was eminent as the books indicated 2 minutes apart was “GO time”. We hastily called off picnic plans and rushed to the hospital, certain that I would likely deliver in the car. The contractions stayed this way the entire labor. Two minutes apart; they were exhausting and terrible.


Some 15 hours later, after declining multiple offers of narcotics and then finally succumbing, I pushed out the tineyest little monster I ever saw. Pictures show me reaching for him immediately after he emerged though I don’t remember. He nursed only a couple minutes at a time every four minutes and I was certain he was underfed. He was a skinny, scrawny little minute. To this day, he eats the least of all of us. Even the 3yo, who subsists mainly on air, eats more than he does. He is maturing into a wonderful boy who has absolutely no problem being constantly taken for a girl here in Mexico. He is very much like me; he constantly questions authority and any decision made. He is very confident and a very healthy self-esteem. Were it possible, he would start each day with a five gallon container of sugar and work on it all day long. He is my first, my guinea pig, my ray of light and my best effort. I could not have hoped for a better child to challenge my assumptions and teach me the ways of the world.

Much more pictures later, but it has taken 17 minutes just to get this one uploaded. Ugh.

house of poop

No, not Pooh, but poop. Might want to skip today’s entry. Seriously. Might want to just pretend it isn’t there and give it the ole drive-by. Can’t say you haven’t been warned. With 4 kids under 11, poop is still very much on the daily radar.

The past two days we’ve been assisting Ellen with her battle against poop. She has a tendency to withold, but her diet is usually full of enough whole grains, raw vegetables and fruit that it isn’t an issue. Lately, her diet has been comprised of pan dulce (lard and white flour and sugar), cow’s milk yogurt (in the states, the kids never drank cow’s milk, but instead rice milk), more pan dulce, cheese, chorizo and a little pan dulce on the side.

So, it had been EIGHT DAYS since movement has occurred. Southerly movement. Her mood has deteriorated with the lack of movement; something we realized only after movement had been achieved. We began with a bottle, and entire bottle of prune juice. She has had prunes almost daily, but apparently not enough. We spend entire days concentrated on the problem of movement and yesterday achieved a measure of success. We resorted to threats (though not empty ones) of needing “medicine” (suppositories) which she then decided she wanted. It took three seperate attempts for her to accept the “medicine”. The first two were accompained with such screaming that I was certain she was allergic to the glygerine. After the first two attempts, some movement was achieved and after the third, she didn’t even realize the medicine had achieved it’s station and was skipping and playing about. The other threat (though not empty) was that of the “doctor”. If we hadn’t been able to achieve success with food, we then planned to resort to the “medicine” and if that either did not work or she refused, we would have been forced to visit a doctor. She’s never been to one in her life so I’m not sure where the terror lies, but she definitely Does Not Want To Go To The Doctor. I tried to re-assure her, but it is fixed pretty well in her mind that the doctor is not a happy place. We’re going to have to work on that in the event that someday she WILL have to go…

So today we’re on day three of the war against her witholdings. Yesterday she ate well for the first time in memory. Broccoli, prunes, brown rice, chorizo and cantelope for lunch; broccoli, brown rice, ham, prunes and cantelope for dinner. She has been a much happier girl but we still have a long road ahead. Breakfast today was oatmeal with sugar, cantelope, prunes and mango. Lots of water in-between. I’ve always tried to honor the kids’ own hunger and thrist, but the last two days I’ve been insisiting on prunes and water. She ate every bite she took for lunch and dinner; the best she’s eaten in over two weeks. Ever since Jamie got over Typhoid, he has been addicted to a type of “noodle soup”, a Ramen type of “soup”. He eats it for lunch and dinner and eats pretty much nothing else. As such, the kids want the same and think this is where the downfall began. She is somewhat prone to constipation and I think the solitary diet of “noodle soup” exceberated the problem. So Jamie is on the wagon. He’s starting to eat real food again too.