Up until - or, as my ex-stepson Phil would say, in-till - about 2 or 3 months ago... no... maybe 5 or 6 months... writing was a daily must.
It didn't matter what I wrote, I just had to write. Ideas for posts bombarded me all day and sometimes I'd have difficulty choosing which way to go.
Perhaps because everything was so unsettled.
It's been one heck of a transition, from London to Mexico City.
And that's bearing in mind I'd lived here before and was familiar with it. My family and old friends are here. My Spanish is predominantly Mexican.
And yet.
Almost a decade in England and the decade itself changed me. Well, not *changed*, but -
Molded.
We're constantly being molded, did you know that?
The aspect of ourselves we call "I" is not completely responsible for the way we are molded with time.
Naturally, "I" choose many things and ultimately, take responsibility for "I".
But our surroundings count for much.
Perhaps more than we care to believe.
We are not only "I" but everything that surrounds "I". We need to understand our surroundings. It's a survival tool.
If you've never moved or have been where you are for some considerable time (I'd say at least 5 years), you'll probably not be aware of how much you are a representative of your surroundings. But if you have, you'll notice that "I" -
Agggh, what a load of tosh.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Happy Mother's Day
To every woman in the world.
That includes me.
I've decided that, instead of feeling sad today (Mum no longer being with us and I myself having no children), that I will celebrate myself because -
It is the maternal quality of women that is celebrated today.
And even though I have no children, I'd say I have a healthy dosis of that quality.
So -
Congratulations to everyone, because we all have it in us to be caring and nurturing and giving, and that includes men as well.
That includes me.
I've decided that, instead of feeling sad today (Mum no longer being with us and I myself having no children), that I will celebrate myself because -
It is the maternal quality of women that is celebrated today.
And even though I have no children, I'd say I have a healthy dosis of that quality.
So -
Congratulations to everyone, because we all have it in us to be caring and nurturing and giving, and that includes men as well.
Monday, May 04, 2009
A Bit More Detail on Malinalco
Closer to Cuernavaca, it would seem, than Toluca, on the map, the easiest way to get there is by taking the Toluca motorway and turning left at La Marquesa. You take another left further south, towards J. - don't ask, I can't remember. Joquinco or similar.
In any event, it's one of the a-lane-each-way country roads, and the scenery is beautiful. It's been quite dry of late, so I can only imagine its phosphorescent greenery straight after the rainy season, in September.
Once you arrive, it doesn't feel like you have. It's like you drive in through a side road and before you know it you're either lost in one of its dirt or cobbled narrow streets or you've arrived at the disconcerting zocalo, with its impressive Augustine convent and Cathedral dating back to the mid 1500s, its Casa de Cultura on one corner, Palacio de Gobierno opposite but elevated and hidden behind palm trees, and quirky restaurants dotted around the plaza principal, to one side of the convent.
Sleepy though this town may be, you really don't want to spend the day of Santa Cruz - or whatever it was they were celebrating on Sunday - anywhere near what we in the capital call el pueblo. The loudest firecrackers on the face of the planet kick the day off at about 8. From that time up until the time we left, at 4 pm, there was no respite. Each firecracker seemed to explode within inches of my eardrums, it was just -
Pointless torture.
Anyway -
I won't go on about it but it's something to be borne in mind and considered: Mexico is indeed the most colourful and beautiful, contrasting nation, where anything and everything is possible.
But it is also, Mexicans would no doubt proudly announce, the loudest.
Oh dear.
Bless!
In any event, it's one of the a-lane-each-way country roads, and the scenery is beautiful. It's been quite dry of late, so I can only imagine its phosphorescent greenery straight after the rainy season, in September.
Once you arrive, it doesn't feel like you have. It's like you drive in through a side road and before you know it you're either lost in one of its dirt or cobbled narrow streets or you've arrived at the disconcerting zocalo, with its impressive Augustine convent and Cathedral dating back to the mid 1500s, its Casa de Cultura on one corner, Palacio de Gobierno opposite but elevated and hidden behind palm trees, and quirky restaurants dotted around the plaza principal, to one side of the convent.
Sleepy though this town may be, you really don't want to spend the day of Santa Cruz - or whatever it was they were celebrating on Sunday - anywhere near what we in the capital call el pueblo. The loudest firecrackers on the face of the planet kick the day off at about 8. From that time up until the time we left, at 4 pm, there was no respite. Each firecracker seemed to explode within inches of my eardrums, it was just -
Pointless torture.
Anyway -
I won't go on about it but it's something to be borne in mind and considered: Mexico is indeed the most colourful and beautiful, contrasting nation, where anything and everything is possible.
But it is also, Mexicans would no doubt proudly announce, the loudest.
Oh dear.
Bless!
The Peaceful Malinalco
What with the whole country at an absurd standstill, we thought it might be a good idea to explore Mexico City's surroundings.
Oh, what a dreamy place Malinalco is.
By the way - that's Moby Dick Pat and I have been ploughing through for the last weeks. My God, what a story it is! Full of life and death and spirit. And how much I've learnt about whales!
But I'll tell you what - I'll be so proud of myself the day I finish ittttt!
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
My Selected Quotes from Moby Dick (So Far)
In this world, shipmates, sin that pays its way can travel freely, and without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all frontiers.
[...]
Like who after a night of drunken revelry hies to his bed, but with conscience yet pricking him,as the plungings of the Roman race-horse but so much the more strike his steel tags into him; as one who in that miserable plight still turns and turns in giddy anguish, praying God for annihilation until the fit be passed; and at last amid the whirl of woe he feels, a deep stupor steals over him, as over the man who bleeds to death, for conscience is the wound, and there's naught to staunch it; so after sore wrestlings in his berth, Jonah's prodigy of ponderous misery drags him drowning to sleep.
[...]
Think of that! When every moment we thought our ship would sink! Death and the Judgement then? What? With all three masts making such an everlasting thundering against the side; and every sea breaking over us, fore and aft. Think of Death and the Judgement then? No! No time to think about Death then. Life was what Captain Ahab and I was thinking of; and how to save all hands - how to rig jury-masts - how to get into the nearest port; that was what I was thinking of.
[...]
But when a man suspects any wrong, it sometimes happens that if he be already involved in the matter, he insensibly strives to cover up his suspicions even from himself.
[...]
So still and subdued and yet somehow preluding was all the scene, and such an incantation of revery lurked in the air, that each silent sailor seemed resolved into his own invisible self.
[...]
There lay the fixed threads of the warp subject to but one single, ever returning, unchanging vibration, and that vibration merely enough to admit of the crosswise interblending of other threads with its own. This warp seemed necessity; and here, thought I, with my own hand I ply my own shuttle and weave my own destiny into these unalterable threads. [...] -aye, chance, free will and necessity - no wise incompatible - all interweavingly working together. [...] chance by turns rules either, and has the last featuring blow at events.
[...]
And heaved and heaved, still unrestingly heaved the black sea, as if its vast tides were a conscience;
[...]
And often you will notice that being conscious of the eyes of the whole visible world resting on him from the sides of the two ships, this standing captain is all alive to the importance of sustaining his dignity by maintaining his legs.
[...]
Now, gentlemen, sweeping a ship's deck at sea is a piece of household work which in all times but raging gales is regularly attended to every evening; [...] Such, gentlemen, is the inflexibility of sea-usages and the instinctive love of neatness in seamen;
[...]
Like who after a night of drunken revelry hies to his bed, but with conscience yet pricking him,as the plungings of the Roman race-horse but so much the more strike his steel tags into him; as one who in that miserable plight still turns and turns in giddy anguish, praying God for annihilation until the fit be passed; and at last amid the whirl of woe he feels, a deep stupor steals over him, as over the man who bleeds to death, for conscience is the wound, and there's naught to staunch it; so after sore wrestlings in his berth, Jonah's prodigy of ponderous misery drags him drowning to sleep.
[...]
Think of that! When every moment we thought our ship would sink! Death and the Judgement then? What? With all three masts making such an everlasting thundering against the side; and every sea breaking over us, fore and aft. Think of Death and the Judgement then? No! No time to think about Death then. Life was what Captain Ahab and I was thinking of; and how to save all hands - how to rig jury-masts - how to get into the nearest port; that was what I was thinking of.
[...]
But when a man suspects any wrong, it sometimes happens that if he be already involved in the matter, he insensibly strives to cover up his suspicions even from himself.
[...]
So still and subdued and yet somehow preluding was all the scene, and such an incantation of revery lurked in the air, that each silent sailor seemed resolved into his own invisible self.
[...]
There lay the fixed threads of the warp subject to but one single, ever returning, unchanging vibration, and that vibration merely enough to admit of the crosswise interblending of other threads with its own. This warp seemed necessity; and here, thought I, with my own hand I ply my own shuttle and weave my own destiny into these unalterable threads. [...] -aye, chance, free will and necessity - no wise incompatible - all interweavingly working together. [...] chance by turns rules either, and has the last featuring blow at events.
[...]
And heaved and heaved, still unrestingly heaved the black sea, as if its vast tides were a conscience;
[...]
And often you will notice that being conscious of the eyes of the whole visible world resting on him from the sides of the two ships, this standing captain is all alive to the importance of sustaining his dignity by maintaining his legs.
[...]
Now, gentlemen, sweeping a ship's deck at sea is a piece of household work which in all times but raging gales is regularly attended to every evening; [...] Such, gentlemen, is the inflexibility of sea-usages and the instinctive love of neatness in seamen;
Mexico's Swine Flu
In case you're wondering, Tanya Huntington Hyde's article in The Guardian summarises everything I'd like to say about the matter at this stage.
How odd that another Tanya should be writing for the UK's The Guardian from Mexico City.
Harrumph. How'd she do it.
Pretty cool artist, though, hey.
How odd that another Tanya should be writing for the UK's The Guardian from Mexico City.
Harrumph. How'd she do it.
Pretty cool artist, though, hey.
Ahoy! All Hands Aboard!
The Committee boat represents one end of the starting line and a bright orange buoy (out of the photo's range), the other. Prior to starting the race, it is protocol to "sail by" and announce your boat name and number:
Faraón and Carlos Jr:
La Vaca and monkey-like Jorge:
The red sail is called a spinnaker and is used when the wind's behind the boat:
Between La Roqueta and the mainland:
The fleet on its way back after having reached the furthest buoy:
We are the champions, my friend...!
Faraón and Carlos Jr:
La Vaca and monkey-like Jorge:
The red sail is called a spinnaker and is used when the wind's behind the boat:
Between La Roqueta and the mainland:
The fleet on its way back after having reached the furthest buoy:
We are the champions, my friend...!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Bandido!
Bandido, coming up -
Up -
Up!
Get out the way, Bandido!
Bandido - no cabes!
Crunch.
That is the way on the starting line of a Regatta in Mexico.
That and the absolute mayhem on board our boat that ensued.
And I'm not joking about the bandit who caused a collision - it was Bandido, the right bastard, and it was he who left everyone else frantically trying to disentangle themselves, while he picked up speed and comfortably settled himself into first position of the fleet.
In addition to Bandido, there are other fabulous names: French Kiss, Iemanja (the pagan goddess of the ocean), Sidewinder, Quintessence, China Cloud, Dimensions, Sirius...
And they all get together to play in the water every once in a while - trying to get from A to B faster than anyone else. It involves all sorts of things but strategy is key, I´ve learnt.
What. Fun.
Characters on the boat included:
3 Carloses - one father, one 15-year-old (with 10 years' sailing experience, telling everyone else what to do) and one middle-aged first timer.
Robbie - the chubby and jovial winchgrinder.
Memo - the boat's excellent caretaker and sailor.
Faraón - literally Pharaoh in English - who runs the boat and is hairier, I'm told, than La Vaca's Schnauzer. The one with the deep, rasping voice.
Then there was La Vaca (the cow), nicknamed after Clarabelle many Moons ago - cows, Moons, what the Hell - who dressed in bright orange shorts, equally bright red sunglasses and little else, except perhaps, a red bandana. Most of the time, he seemed to be enjoying the ride, but he's probably the most experienced sailor on the boat. More interesting than that, though, were his hilarious comments. For example, he calls his wife mi brujer, a condensation of bruja (witch) and mujer (wife).
And last but not least, was control-freak maniac owner, Jorge. Now - let me just tell you that Jorge is at least 65, and he springs about his boat like a monkey, hanging from the stanchions, looking up, then down, noticing every minute detail, fine-tuning jib sheets, jib cars, adjusting the runners, edging out the out-haul, pulling down on the cunningham, OMG, what agility. But, says Pat, he isn't the best of helmsmen.
Come back soon and see the photos.
Up -
Up!
Get out the way, Bandido!
Bandido - no cabes!
Crunch.
That is the way on the starting line of a Regatta in Mexico.
That and the absolute mayhem on board our boat that ensued.
And I'm not joking about the bandit who caused a collision - it was Bandido, the right bastard, and it was he who left everyone else frantically trying to disentangle themselves, while he picked up speed and comfortably settled himself into first position of the fleet.
In addition to Bandido, there are other fabulous names: French Kiss, Iemanja (the pagan goddess of the ocean), Sidewinder, Quintessence, China Cloud, Dimensions, Sirius...
And they all get together to play in the water every once in a while - trying to get from A to B faster than anyone else. It involves all sorts of things but strategy is key, I´ve learnt.
What. Fun.
Characters on the boat included:
3 Carloses - one father, one 15-year-old (with 10 years' sailing experience, telling everyone else what to do) and one middle-aged first timer.
Robbie - the chubby and jovial winchgrinder.
Memo - the boat's excellent caretaker and sailor.
Faraón - literally Pharaoh in English - who runs the boat and is hairier, I'm told, than La Vaca's Schnauzer. The one with the deep, rasping voice.
Then there was La Vaca (the cow), nicknamed after Clarabelle many Moons ago - cows, Moons, what the Hell - who dressed in bright orange shorts, equally bright red sunglasses and little else, except perhaps, a red bandana. Most of the time, he seemed to be enjoying the ride, but he's probably the most experienced sailor on the boat. More interesting than that, though, were his hilarious comments. For example, he calls his wife mi brujer, a condensation of bruja (witch) and mujer (wife).
And last but not least, was control-freak maniac owner, Jorge. Now - let me just tell you that Jorge is at least 65, and he springs about his boat like a monkey, hanging from the stanchions, looking up, then down, noticing every minute detail, fine-tuning jib sheets, jib cars, adjusting the runners, edging out the out-haul, pulling down on the cunningham, OMG, what agility. But, says Pat, he isn't the best of helmsmen.
Come back soon and see the photos.
Friday, April 24, 2009
On How to Be Happy
OK, folks, here's the thing -
It happens to all of us.
Days that pull you in and tug you about mercilessly, as if you were on a tiny boat in the middle of stormy seas. During those days it seems there's nothing else to do but hold on for dear life, think of strategies to help calm your discomfort, and pray for smoother weather.
But every once in a while, even within the strongest of tempests, there are glimpses of hope - an idea, a new method or form, a light at the end of the tunnel.
That's the key.
Grab hold of it and hang on tight. Counteract the storm (real or imagined) with thoughts of pulling through, then decorate your thoughts - pulling through virtually scratch-free. Victoriously, heroically, magically.
And then it happens - as you knew it would.
It happens to all of us.
Days that pull you in and tug you about mercilessly, as if you were on a tiny boat in the middle of stormy seas. During those days it seems there's nothing else to do but hold on for dear life, think of strategies to help calm your discomfort, and pray for smoother weather.
But every once in a while, even within the strongest of tempests, there are glimpses of hope - an idea, a new method or form, a light at the end of the tunnel.
That's the key.
Grab hold of it and hang on tight. Counteract the storm (real or imagined) with thoughts of pulling through, then decorate your thoughts - pulling through virtually scratch-free. Victoriously, heroically, magically.
And then it happens - as you knew it would.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Quotes of the Day
A happy marriage is the union of two good forgivers.
Robert Quillen, journalist and cartoonist (1887-1948)
Mi casa es muy pequeña, pero sus ventanas se abren a un mundo grande y maravilloso.
My house is very small, but its windows open up into a big and wonderful world.
Confucius.
Robert Quillen, journalist and cartoonist (1887-1948)
Mi casa es muy pequeña, pero sus ventanas se abren a un mundo grande y maravilloso.
My house is very small, but its windows open up into a big and wonderful world.
Confucius.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Britain's Got Talent is Back
This one's one of my favourites, Susan Boyle. And this one of Flawless too. I thought Stavros Flatley and his son were hilarious. And I loved Fabia Cerra. You must watch her, let me know what you think. How brave is she!
Love watching this type of video.
So uplifting!
Love watching this type of video.
So uplifting!
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Oaxaca Photos
Was so busy with my new viddie-cam that I neglected my beloved camera.
Well, there's that, and the fact that Oaxaca was a bit of an eye-opener for me, in the sense that -
Reality was -
It was hot and dry and dusty and arid -
Heartbreaking to see the country in this shape. Overwhelming, actually, to the extent that I wonder - why is there not more being done for the countryside? Where's our tax money going? The roads need fixing, people need more water, something needs to be done urgently about the trash/garbage situation, there should be enough money for the owners of the mezcal factory in Hierve el Agua to own more than a single, soulcracking old horse, tied to a wooden pole, tugging a gigantic grinding stone round and round a 2-metre circumference, every day, all day, for 30 years... shit... why can that family not afford 2 horses? Why are there women begging on the streets, with children clutching at their breasts. None of this should be and I wish it were different.
Oh, but there is beauty everywhere in Mexico as well and this is what I want to focus on -
Well, there's that, and the fact that Oaxaca was a bit of an eye-opener for me, in the sense that -
Reality was -
It was hot and dry and dusty and arid -
Heartbreaking to see the country in this shape. Overwhelming, actually, to the extent that I wonder - why is there not more being done for the countryside? Where's our tax money going? The roads need fixing, people need more water, something needs to be done urgently about the trash/garbage situation, there should be enough money for the owners of the mezcal factory in Hierve el Agua to own more than a single, soulcracking old horse, tied to a wooden pole, tugging a gigantic grinding stone round and round a 2-metre circumference, every day, all day, for 30 years... shit... why can that family not afford 2 horses? Why are there women begging on the streets, with children clutching at their breasts. None of this should be and I wish it were different.
Oh, but there is beauty everywhere in Mexico as well and this is what I want to focus on -
Sunday, April 12, 2009
A Female Perspective
OK, take a good look at this painting, inside the church at Santa Maria del Tule, Oaxaca, Mexico.
Now - is it me, or does it look like God's flashing his Jesus.
Poor God. Poor Jesus!
A factor worth considering though, is that these paintings were probably painted by recently conquered artists, who'd never heard of God or Jesus until the Spanish monks arrived and described what they were looking for in the way of decoration for their place of worship.
Now - is it me, or does it look like God's flashing his Jesus.
Poor God. Poor Jesus!
A factor worth considering though, is that these paintings were probably painted by recently conquered artists, who'd never heard of God or Jesus until the Spanish monks arrived and described what they were looking for in the way of decoration for their place of worship.
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