SOMOS MEXICANOS

Back to Migración this morning for our FM2s. See those thumbs? They left their prints with the government. Or perhaps I voted in an Afghan election.

Now we can do something else we've been trying to do--give some of our money to a bank. We went there this afternoon, signed our names on the waiting list and waited. When our names were called we sat in front of an "ejecutivo" and told him we wanted to open an account. We proudly put our FM2s on his desk. "Do you have a bill?" he asked. No, but we had our lease. No good, he said. You have to have an electric or gas bill. What about Cablecom, el sr J. asked. No good. Phooey, he said. How about a water bill, he said. We just got it today, but it's in the name of our landlady. Not a problem, says el sr Ejecutivo, as long as the address is the same as the lease. The problem was, the bill was at home. Back we go for the bill. When we returned, el sr E waved us up to his desk. Sounding good, isn't it. Then he gave us a paper and asked us to write the names, addresses, and phone numbers of three references (just like when we tried to get a Telcel account). Panic ensues. I root through my various notebooks, el sr J looks on his cellphone. We've got the names, but addresses and phone numbers? They're all on the computer at home (except for the landlady's, which I had in my notebook). El sr E is multitasking, talking to someone on the phone as he rifles though some documents. El sr J is trying to tell him we know the street addresses but not the numbers and that these people are all upstanding citizens. During this exchange, I notice that el sr E is motioning that what we have written is enough. "He says it's ok," I whispered to el sr J. And it was. We opened our account just before closing time. I noticed on the form el sr E had filled out that our nacionalidad was listed as "mexicano/a."

The new thing we learned about each other in this event is that el sr J likes to chat (nervously) during the waiting periods between something/nothing happening in bureaucratic situations, and I like to go into silent, submissive mode (not typical). Hmmmm. . . . .

EL ESQUINERO Y UNAS HIERBAS

We ordered this esquinero three weeks ago, in barnizado natural. El sr J is not contento with the construcción. I said we were looking for quality of life, not the acquisition of quality furniture. I'm hoping the two things aren't connected.

We found a plant place within walking distance, as in close enough to haul dirt and fertilizer.

We now have new herbs to keep the albahaca company: rosemary, rue, and oregano.

Not to mention the menta.

EL PESO Y LOS PESOS

El peso. The weight, not the $. You know how some things in supermarkets in the US are sold by weight and some by the piece (melons, limes, avocados, etc.)? Well, almost all of the comestibles in our markets here are sold by weight, as in kilos and gramos. Even. . . .

los huevos

You can imagine how nerviosa I was carrying these home in a plastic bag. This weighing of eggs thing also clears up a minor mystery for me. When we were looking at refrigeradores we noticed the egg containers looked like this (some had 8 holes, some 6, we have 10):

I was used to thinking by the dozen, not by peso (weight). These were 120 pesos ($) for 12. Yes, I ordered una docena and watched (in wonderment) as the clerk put them on the scale and told me the price. Pesos paying for peso.

DANDO GRACIAS

We were invited to a Thanksgiving day dinner a short walk away. It was a gathering of many American and other ex-pats, plus some locals. There were two large patos and many side dishes, especially desserts. Lots of wine was drunk. Lots of

English, Spanish, and French was spoken. We had previously met a few of these folks, and now we know a whole lot more of them.

El sr J y Bill (Bill es de Florida)

Natalie and Grace en el techo

Bob and Rosemary en un patio

otras personas

los postres

más personas en la sala

3 monjas y un hombre

más personas en otro patio

We had a wonderful time. Gracias, Thomas y Christianne.

MIGRACION, PARTE 3

As you may recall, we have been to Migración 2 times with passports, visas, bank statements, letters of petition, marriage license, etc. The first time, one of us had written the the wrong date on a form. (yikes!) The second time our paper work was acceptable: we were entered into the system and told to check our "trámite" online and if nothing appeared in 10 days, to return. Something DID appear saying our petition was filed but our situation was "unresolved." Yesterday we saw a message instructing us to come in to Migración. It's like being called to the principal's office. What did I do now? What is "unresolved?"

So early this morning we gathered up our forms again and waited in line outside the office until it opened at 9:00 (or shortly thereafter). Then we knowingly said "tercera edad" and were ushered to the area where retirees wait to be called to a window. The official made two young people get out of their seats to make room for us oldies. We were first in line, and when we were called we sat at the window while Manola Ortiz (she later told us to ask for her, so we memorized her name) left her seat to gather voluminous files, and then she sat in front of her computer for a (handwringing? not me) period of time. Then she produced two large stamps, and KACHUNK, KACHUNK, she stamped some papers. This was a significant bureaucratic moment, when official-looking papers receive the KACHUNK of approval. I can't express the feeling of teary elation I felt at that moment. Things were being resolved in our favor. After we signed some forms, she told us we had to go to a bank (any bank) and deposit the two different amounts on each kachunked paper. Then we should return to her (Manola Ortiz) as soon as possible.

To the bank. It's now 10:00 a.m. so we go to an ATM and get $600.00 (más o menos, there was change involved in the amount). We go to the teller and tell her we want to pay for FM 2s. KACHUNK, KACHUNK (more times than that, and I want one of those things--they give me so much joy). Then we had to find a place to copy the bank deposit receipts (2 copies of each form=8 copies). Back to Manola Ortiz and. . .more KACHUNK, a bit of stapling, and. . .we return in 8 days, when we'll give them thumbprints and get an plastic ID card with our photos on--an FM2. Why do we want it? El sr J will explain:

Not only will we be able to open a bank account now and qualify for Social Security (government-sponsored health care), but after 5 years of FM2 status we can apply for permanent resident status. Which means no more trips to Migración to obtain forms like this:

EL TUETANO

Branching out a bit at market.

I decided we needed to make some beef stock, and what is beef stock without marrow bones. I didn't know the word for "marrow," so I looked it up and there were 2 words: médula and tuétano. I decided (for no good reason) to go for médula, probably because it was easier for me to remember. We went to my favorite beef/pork guy and I asked for "huesos con médula para la sopa." He corrected me with tuétano and dug out what you see on the left. I said that I wanted meat on the bones, too. He nodded and climbed straight up the wall of his booth (in his white boots, white jacket and hat) and I heard him sawing (electrically). Down he came with the rest of what you see (short ribs), only in long pieces which he cut into smaller pieces, also cutting off the fat. He gave us the tuétano for free.

Giddy with delight, I decided to tackle the herb/spice/bean sellers. These things are displayed in huge burlap bags, and who know what is what (except for the beans). Yes, I could ask, but who wants to hold up the line asking dumb questions. Not me. I decided to try for pimentón, paprika. The guy looked confused, then an older guy said yes, they had it, did I want red or green. Red, right? Smoked (in the Spanish style) or sweet (Hungarian style)? The latter (even thought el sr J prefers smoked). How about 8 pesos worth? OK, what do I know. This is what I got. Pimentón now goes into everything, including salad dressing. Get used to it, sr J.

MAS CINE FRANCES

Another French film series. This time the theme is women. We couldn't be happier.

6 films, 6 consecutive days, 4 different times to choose from. Free.

UNOS PAJAROS

Look what we found on the patio yesterday morning.

So last night I snuck out after dark and saw who has moved in.

I also saw a hummingbird (colibrí) flying around the limonero yesterday. Have to look for a feeder.

¿CUAL ES TU NUMERO DE TELEFONO?

Spanish 101, números 1-100. Students write their phone numbers on a slip of paper, the numbers go in a hat I pass around, someone draws a number and says it out loud. Embarrassing silence. Repite, por favor. Not wanting to be humiliated, they start to listen.

So here are our teléfonos, acquired after much effort. There's a Telcel "office" on almost every block. We went into one and tried to get a phone. We would need an FM (see previous post). Several days later we went in another one with our passports. Same story although the young woman (all these clerks seem to be kids) did call someone and try to argue our case. Several days later, in the afterglow of getting internet connection (see previous post) we went in another office and. . .the young woman said, sí, we could get phones without the FMs. She copied our passports and credit cards and said there would be an "investigación," which I interpreted as a credit check. It would take several days. Fine. Then she wanted 3 phone numbers. I thought she was talking about numbers to put on our "numbers to call" list, but, having just arrived here, I didn't have any on hand. We went home and I located 3 people who had (too bad for them) given us their phone numbers (our landlady, Shelley, and Kim) and called Carmen Soto back and gave them to her. Turns out they were references. We went back on the day she had mentioned, no luck, the investigación wasn't finished. We went back again several days later, same story. So now we were kind of disheartened.

One day on the way home from market we met the tercer edad couple we had met in Migración. They told us what they had for phones: cells phones you buy minutes for as you need them. A pay as you go system. So off we went to another Telcel "office." I'm usually the talking person, but I get all trembly and tongue tied in the face of technology, so el sr J had to carry the day, and he did it quite admirably. We almost know how to work them. We can at least call each other successfully. Here they are in and out of their boxes:

By the way, Telcel is owned by Carlos Slim, el hombre más rico del mundo. Just love giving him more money.

LA ORQUESTA FILARMONICA

Last Friday we went to the Teatro de la República to hear the symphony. The city is steeped in history, and this theater was the site of several significant moments. It is where the defeated Emperor Maximilian, who was being held prisoner in town, was judged and sentenced to death (he was shot on a nearby hill); it is where the current Constitution was ratified in 1917 (the names of the signatories and the states they represented are listed on the stage backdrop, the perusal of which makes a nice diversion when things get dull); and lastly it is where the once-dominant political party, the PRI, was organized in 1929. It's also a good place to hear music.

This is the evening's program. The orchestra was good (IOHO). The pianist less so.

Here are the musicians. 5 puntos if you find the Armenian.

EL PANADERO Y MAS

FOR ALAIN

The panadero from France has more products. Andouille from Lyon! We can't wait to eat it tomorrow.

EL ESCRITORIO

It came today. Now we don't have to bend over the computer on a chair. All we need now in this guest room is a bed and some lights. We don't need the ladder, but there it is anyway.

Using the molcajete to make guacamole. Note the portagarrafón in the lower left.

In other news, bus #65 does NOT go to Walmart! Will blog about that later. It's too painful now. So painful we have to eat out.

TEQUISQUIAPAN

Reading the Diario de Queretaro, I noticed that the above-mentioned town was having their "primer festival gastronómico." Our kind of thing. We had visited this town several years ago and thought it quaint in a precious sort of way. It is a resort town about 30 miles from here, famous for its thermal springs and artisanal products. It was also where Che went to take the baths, a break from living in Mexico City and conspiring with Fidel and others to sail the Granma to Cuba and start the revolution. We decided to go today.

El sr. J. thought we should take buses all the way there and back. So we (almost) did. First we had to go to the big central park--the Alameda de Hércules--to catch a bus to the Central Bus Station, about 2 kilometers outside of town, where we would get another one to Tequis, as the locals call it. There are no signs at the bus stops informing riders which bus to take. Also, the buses don't usually stop unless someone flags them down. Where they go is written on their windshields. So the problem is trying to read the windshield from a distance so you can flag the bus down. A nice bus driver who was stopping for other passengers told us that #s 19 and 36 go to the Central. One of these numbers just flew by as we waved, the next one stopped and we boarded.

"Will we know when we get to the Central?" I ask el sr. J.

"Yes," he says, "and we want the 2nd class bus terminal," (as if we'll know what that looks like). I'm nervous, of course, but el sr. J. is not--he's having a wonderful time identifying streets and guessing which direction the bus will turn next.

Needless to say, we got to the Central, found the bus to Tequis, took another bus from the Tequis station to downtown, and had a great time.

I priced wool rugs, but they were too much for us.

A bigger molcajete than I have.

El sr. J. discussing terroir, etc. We bought local wine and cheese.

Mountains from the bus station (for Pete).

We took a taxi to the Tequis bus station on the way back because we were tired. El sr. J. doesn't really fit in a bus seat because there's not enough room for his legs. We'll see how that influences the next trip.

LA CENA

What's for dinner? Last night, camarones. See those shrimp heads? El sr J. shelled the shrimp and left the heads on. Then sauteed them in olive oil with a garlic, oregano, and white wine sauce and served them over pasta. They were delicious.

Tonight we had steak. 5 puntos for telling me what kind (I don't know the answer). At market I pointed to what I thought was steak, verified that it was res, and indicated with thumb and index finger how thick I wanted it. Marinated overnight in red wine, garlic, and pineapple juice and cooked medium rare on the griddle with coarse sea salt and black pepper, it was good also.

EL COMEDOR

We bought some dining room furniture yesterday. We have a corner cupboard ordered from a furniture maker whose shop is on the way to our workout place. It should be finished in 2 weeks. Breakfast and dinner here because it's chilly in the morning and evening.

Lunch here. We have 2 more chairs for visitors.

For Mimi

Pan integral. It's good.

EL CORREO

The mail. Everybody here tells us that the mail is unreliable. Private couriers deliver the bills for internet, electric, gas, etc. Maria, the previous occupant of our house, is expecting to receive a bank card from the US. She said it usually takes from 10 days to 10 weeks to get mail and that the delivery only happens 60% of the time. Don't know how she got that figure. Her bank card has not come yet.

We haven't gotten a thing in the mail. No catalogs, nothing. Until today, when we got this:

"Day of the Mailperson." S/He wants a donation for the year's service. The term for this practice is mordita (little bite), or to put it plainly, bribe. Public servants (mailpersons, policepersons) earn but little, and if you want their benevolent attention, you are expected to pay for it.

But how would we do this? If we put money in the envelope and slide it halfway in/out of the slot, anybody could take it. When does s/he come? We asked a neighbor and she said in the morning. We've never seen him/her. Don't know what we'll do yet. Maybe nothing. In which case, don't bother sending us any mail.

LIMONERO: ANTES Y DESPUES

Lemon tree (was) very pretty. The dueña talked to us about having her "very trusted" gardener come in and take care of the lemon tree--prune, fertilize, etc. We said ok (as if we could say anything else). So she was here yesterday to check it out. We asked her to look at the stove (pilot light too high on left side, out on right side). She pulls up the . . .whatever those things are called. . .goes right into the. . . mechanisms, asks el sr J for a screwdriver, and sets to work. I'm amazed. She says, "sí, soy mecánica." I now have an altered view of the dueña.

So the guy goes to work on the tree. It takes him all day. He uses a machete. After he chops the branches off, he chops up everything into very small pieces and puts them into bags.

Then

Now

EL BANO

Well, we have to get to it from the patio. As in, outside. Chilly last night so today el sr. J. bought a bathrobe and flip flops.

The inside. With a cabinet (locker) we ordered yesterday.

For Mimi:

Rye Bread from the Frenchman

It was good.