The Eye of the Curve-billed Thrasher
Cuitlacoche común
How is it possible for these birds to fly into such tangles of spikes and thorns unscathed?
Handsome with intimidating fierce yellow eyes, the Curve-billed Thrasher, Cuitlacoche, is high on my list of favorite Mexican birds.
The Many Voices of the Zanate
Every day from the vantage of our roof terrace in Puerto Vallarta, I see a shiny purple-black male zanate lord over his kingdom of a great mango tree. That tree—more than sixty-feet tall—is the largest in our neighborhood. It towers over all the houses around and anyone looking toward the tree can likely see the big bird strut about the topmost branches. This puffed up garrulous creature points his head up, gapes his mouth, cocks back his wings and squeals his wild songs. His sounds surpass the mimicry of any mockingbird.
Cars drive by on the street below blaring mariachi music and the bird adds trills to the ends of trumpet accents. Other cars play US rap music and the bird attaches wild scats between pauses. This mastersinger comments on almost any stray sound—from raucous to melodic.
US Election
Today I read a post by a Mexican blogger with an interesting slant on elections.
Tamales, tamales, tamales….
Un tamal rojo y un tamal verde
Every night around seven, an old truck rumbles down our street in colonia Emiliano Zapata in Puerto Vallarta. The truck’s makeshift sound system blares, “tamales, tamales, tamales…tamales rojo, tamales verde, tamales d’elote…tamales, tamales.”
It is a song I love to hear. The chant and rhythm remind me of seafood vendors I heard in coastal North Carolina when I was young.
The word tamal derives from the Nahuatl, one of the core indigenous languages of Mexico, word for wrapper. Tamales is the plural form.
Día de los Muertos
Looking at individual altars set up in doorways, on porches and even in yards, parks or other public places during the Day of the Dead celebration in Mexico, I am struck by an unexpected realization. There is nothing spooky, macabre or sinister about this celebration. In fact, the opposite appears to be true. Viewing photographs of those now dead, seeing objects that are reminders of their lives on these altars and offering a little rum, tequila or some of their favorite foods there prompts memories of loved ones. This is a commemoration of lives gone before, a celebration of the continuous nature of life.
Unlike Halloween in the US where trick-or-treating while wearing scary costumes has become a contest to see who gets the most stuff and plays the meanest tricks, the Mexican celebration is a time for introspection.
Kiss of the Guacamaya
Guacamayas are the Mexican subspecies of the Military Macaw. They are green, as in an army uniform, yet display wild accent colors of red, yellow, blue and orange. They are large. Adults may reach three feet in length. And they are very intelligent.These birds are also gregarious and make a wide range of shrieking and kracking sounds whether their conversation is with other Macaws—or humans. They may live for sixty years in the wild and mate for life. Guacamayas nest in hollows of trees.
Playa Naranjo Turtles
buy Clomiphene and hcg Santos
While strolling down the beach at Rincon de Guayabitos in Mexico’s Pacific state of Nayarit on a Sunday morning, a man approached us. He introduced himself as Santos and offered to take us to a turtle camp. At first, this seemed funny to me. A camp for turtles? But, the man was so sincere and positive. We listened and were glad we did.
The turtle camp, he explained, was not at Rincon de Guayabitos, rather at a nearby beach called Playa Naranjo. We would need to go in a small bus in, maybe, two hours. He would arrange the transportation and would get a group together to defray the cost for all. It would cost about one hundred pesos each round trip, and the whole visit would take two to two and a half hours.
Colón/Columbus
A Quip for Columbus Day from a Guanajuato Spanish teacher
Cristóbal Colón llegó a America en 1492. El pensaba que estaba en las Indias. En realidad, el estaba perdido. Un grupo de indígenas lo descubren a él, pero la historia oficial no reconoce esta ironía.
Sunrise at the Piramide del Sol
A Morning Hike up the Pyramid of the Sun
The idea of watching a sunrise from the top of one of the world’s largest pyramids had grabbed me, and I wasn’t going to let it go.
I planned to climb the Piramide del Sol, Pyramid of the Sun, in the ancient city of Teotihuacán north of Mexico City. This site was established a hundred years before the birth of Jesus.
I had read the placement of the Pyramid of the Sun was over a lava tube thought to be sort of an umbilical cord connected to the gods of the underworld—perhaps the place of human origin.
Chickens in Mexico
On my first visit to our little neighborhood grocery, tienda de comestibles, I carefully requested in Spanish, “Quisiera una docena de huevos, por favor.” I believed this to mean, I would like a dozen eggs, please. I was surprised by the reply, “¿Te gusta blanco o rojo? Rojo? I was stumped. I thought rojo was red. It is, of course. Yet, it took me a minute to realize the patient shopkeeper referred to what I have always called brown eggs.
When it comes to chickens, Mexicans have viewpoints different from most US citizens. Actual contact with chickens for most in the US generally consists of buying chicken parts wrapped in plastic. Mexicans, on the other hand, are not fazed when a flock of hens and biddies strut down a public street—even in the middle of a city. They don’t find it unusual if roving chickens poach a couple of bugs from their gardens, or if a rooster crows at any time of day or night.