Sunday, July 10, 2005

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…

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