Something to Bite Into

Clara has started eating crackers.

They're an (almost) endless source of entertainment.

This picture was taken on one of her first days with the cracker. I can tell, as I must have gotten a little overzealous, gave her multiple cracker options, with the end result of the child "two-fisting" the crackers.

However, she still doesn't have the pincer grasp completely down yet (putting the thumb and forefinger together rather daintily), so once she's nibbled off the cracker that isn't covered by her palm or fingers, she's out of luck.

Even though she knows there's still plenty of cracker there.

It's tough to be a baby.

Kids, kids, everywhere!

Clara and I extended our vacation in the Mexico City area so that Clara could spend more time with her abuelo, and so that I could visit my kiddos in Morelos.

Roughly five years ago, I spent two years as a full-time volunteer at a children's home an hour south of Cuernavaca (they gave me free room and board, so it wasn't too much of a hardship). My second year, I helped care of 26 1st, 2ed, and 3rd grade girls. These girls are now in 6th, 7th, and 8th grade. Compared to most ex-volunteers, I count myself very fortunate that I have in-laws that live near the house, so I can visit these girls at least every year.

As a quick summary, the house, Nuestros Pequenos Hermanos (http://www.nph.org/) has been in existence for 55 years, and has been a home for thousands of children, many of whom are clearly now adults. They operate under a beautiful philosophy of unconditional love, pledging to be a permanent family for the children that live there. Therefore, when children are accepted into the home, they must arrive with all their brothers and sisters, and they are never adopted out, giving the kids a sense of security and belonging.

Education is of utmost importance, so, upon reaching adulthood, "ex-pequenos" can go on to lead self-sufficient and productive lives. NPH runs its own school, which continues through the high school level [note: high school is not compulsory in Mexico]. Furthermore, upon completing high school and donating two years of service to the house, those who have the grades to be accepted at a university are given the opportunity. Currently, NPH has about 100 graduates studying at the university level.

In my time there, what I've witnessed overall is a group of healthy, happy kids who grow up learning how to cooperate with one another, and know how to share better than any other children I've ever met. For example, my daughter Clara, who already has far too many toys, was showered with toys and stuffed animals from the kids she met there.

Clara and I arrived at the house at lunch time. Initially, I thought, "perfect timing! We can go meet everyone at once."

Yeah. Poor, poor Clara.

She got mobbed.

However, she tolerated all the hugs, the poking, the proding, the cheek-pinching, and the noise surprisingly well. She didn't enjoy it, but she hung in there. While I did want to soak up as much of my time there with the girls I worked with, Clara and I took frequent breaks to hang out in our room and recover from over-stimulation. After a nap, we'd head out to be squeezed and hugged and poked all over again. I earned some bad-mommy points over those three days. Sorry, Clara.

I also got to witness my first de-gutting of the fishes. Every two months or so, fish are harvested from the fish ponds, cleaned and then fried for lunch. They're delicious. However, cleaning enough fish for 500+ people is more work than the ladies in the kitchen can possibly handle on their own. Therefore, the oldest girls spend half their Saturday gutting the fish. Ugh. I did hear of some dorm moms promising their girls plenty of free time on Sunday for this exceptionally disgusting Saturday chore. I enjoyed watching the procedure and Clara enjoyed the fact that they were unable to smother her for a few hours.

If, upon reading this you've wondered to yourself, "500 kids in one house! How to they pay for everything?" Good question, and during this financial crisis it's gotten harder and harder to them to make end meet. NPH runs a godparent program, asking donors "or godparents" to sponsor a specific child for $25 a month. These godparents make up a huge chunck of NPH's operating budget. When one sponsors a child, the child and godparent begin writing letters back and forth. I've seen the excitement when godparent letters arrive, and know that they do appreciate having someone who writes specifically to them. Furthermore, I've seen this godparent relationship stretch well into adulthood, long after the godparent has stopped financial support for the specific child. The woman I worked with during my two years there was an ex-pequena, and I helped her translate a letter to her godmother, letting her godmother know that she was going to be a mother herself! How beautiful for this woman, who did not have much extended family of her own, to know that she could write her godmother such exciting news.

I guess I got carried away on that. However, if you know that you generally have $25 in spare change every month, NPH would be most grateful for your donation. They are hurting for funds, and after my two years there, I can vouch that the organization is a good steward of what they are given.

Fiestas Patrias

Contrary to popular opinion in the United States, Mexico does NOT celebrate Independence Day on the fifth of May. (In fact, most Mexicans do not celebrate Cinco de Mayo at all . . . but more on that in May.) Mexico's Independence Day (and all Central American countries' Independence Days) is on September 16th.

We planned on celebrating Independence Day with Mario's extended family in Coatzacoalcos, Veracruz (again, at the very bottom of the Gulf of Mexico). Many people go out to join a "Fiesta Patria", or patriotic party, sometime in mid-September. Fiestas Patrias involve people dressing in clothes that are representative of a certain region of the country (or in green, red, and white if traditional clothes are not available). Then they get together and eat a lot of traditional Mexican food, sing mariachi and other traditional songs, drink a lot of traditional tequila, and dance.

As Mario's "uncle" Ramon turned 5o on September 15, his wife threw him a surprise birthday party, cleverly disguised as a Fiesta Patria. Somehow she was able to keep the surprise a secret, and Ramon was accordingly overwhelmed when he waltzed into the banquet hall, surrounded by 60 of his nearest and dearest friends and family.

In every town throughout Mexico, at midnight on September 15th (or 16th), the mayor of the town stands on the balcony of the town hall and shouts, "Viva Mexico!" The throng of people gathered in the square then echo "Viva Mexico!" a number of times, commemorating the shout that Father Hidalgo, a priest and father of Mexico's independence movement, gave to kick off Mexico's independence from Spain 199 years ago.

However, we were enjoying ourselves in the banquet hall and were clearly not going to join the rest of Coatzacoalcos in the town square. Therefore, at midnight, Ramon's elderly mother made her way to the balcony in the banquet hall, recited a patriotic poem, and then gave a spirited, "Viva Mexico!"

This was one of the most touching ways I've celebrated the 16th of September.

The Evil Eye

For about the last eight months, it has struck me as odd that nearly everyone in Mexico who comes in contact with Clara feels the need to touch her gently on her head. Not being weirded out by legions of strangers touching my child, I just chalked it up to being a cute, touchy-feely custom of Mexican women who clearly love babies.

Then, while I was visiting NPH, one of the older kids asked me why Clara doesn't wear a red string on her wrist.

"Because I don't believe in the Evil Eye," I replied.

A-HA! That's it! All these strangers who have been touching Clara on her head have touching her to avoid giving her "mal de ojo" or the Evil Eye.

Ever since moving to Mexico, I've been fascinated with mal de ojo--what it is, the symptoms, and, most importantly, how to pass it on. Of course, I've been fascinated as a skeptic. Plenty of people really do believe in the Evil Eye.

Children who are infected by the Evil Eye are just mysterously ill. Now, being familiar with the causes of Mexican illnesses, this must be something to do with the child having flu-like symptoms, but as the child hadn't been out in the cold, the wind, or wet, this illness must have been caused by the Evil Eye . . . because germs clearly don't have anything to do with disease, right? *sigh*

Mario's niece was apparently infected with the Evil Eye when she was about 18 months old. Fortunately for me, I was visiting at the time (and I probably gave it to her). Mario's mother doesn't really believe in the Evil Eye, but Dulce's other grandmother does. So, Other Grandmother performed a cleansing ritual for Dulce. This involved bouncing the naked child in a blanket and then sticking some herbs behind her ears (rather Julius Cesear-like). Odd. But it must have worked, as Dulce recovered. Because, as Mario's mother warns me, despite the fact that she doesn't really believe in it, children have been known to die from the Evil Eye.

But Clara is going to take her chances. No red string bracelets for her. Fortunately, all the female population of Coahuila is willing to touch her after looking at her, which promptly lifts the curse.

Oh, I think of all those children I've flirted with while waiting in line at the grocery store. I hope they're OK. I didn't mean to give them the Evil Eye.

(OK, sometimes I did try.)

Chiles en Nogada

On our way between Veracruz and Mexico City, Mario needed to stop to take care of some personal business. I also needed to take care of some personal business--I had a hot date with a chile en nogada!

Chiles en nogada are hands-down my favorite Mexican meal. Unfortunately for me, restaurants generally only sell them during August, September, and October to celebrate Independence Day (September 16). And although I'm a fairly adventurous cook, I do not ever plan on trying to make these at home. They're wickedly labor-intensive.

So what is a chile en nogada? It's a big poblano pepper (they're not spicy), stuffed with meat (turkey, I believe), nuts, raisins, citron, and probably a few other tasty ingredients. Then the chile is battered in a savory meringue and fried. Once it's fried to golden perfection, the stuffed pepper is generously bathed in the creamy nogada sauce (pecan sauce). According to Mario, the pecans have to be perfectly peeled, otherwise the sauce will be bitter. This is the ridiculously labor-intensive stage. If I could buy the sauce, I would consider making them. But then again, it's the sauce that makes the meal absolutely heavenly.

As a finishing touch, the chile is sprinkled with pomegranate seeds and cilantro leaves, rendering the finished product a patriotic red, green, and white. Quite likely, because of this patriotism, the chile en nogada is considered Mexico's national dish. But this is the reason why it only makes an appearance around Independence Day.

Chiles en nogada were another inspired product of those culinary genius, eighteenth century nuns from Puebla. These wonderful women created some of Mexico's most celebrated food--mole poblano, chiles rellenos, and heaps upon heaps of poblano candy (I believe a tour down Santa Clara street in Puebla should be in the forefront of most peoples' 10 Places to Visit Before I Die lists).

What does a chile en nogada taste like? It reminds me of Thanksgiving dinner--all the courses rolled into one beautiful entree. Now, this sounds like it might be a bit overwhelming, but it is absolutely delicious. Sometimes the post-Thanksgiving food hangover sets in, sometimes it doesn't. But as I mentioned, walk it off by touring Santa Clara street. Ah, bliss!

Quite unfortunately, I have not seen any chiles en nogada advertised here in northren Mexico. Do they make them here? If anyone knows of restaurants serving them in southren Coahuila or the Monterrey area, let me know!

The photo above is of my sister-in-law, Lili, getting ready to dive into her first chile en nogada. Seriously? Her first?!? How can one live so close to Puebla for 32 years and never have tried chiles en nogada? We put a stop to that.

Destination: Achotal, Veracruz

The first stop on our whirlwind blitz through Mexico was Achotal, Veracruz--home of Octaviano Saure, Mario's 102-year-old grandfather (plus various aunts and uncles). This town is so tiny that it's not on the map. But for reference's sake, it's roughly an hour west of Coatzacoalcos, on the southern "tip" of the Gulf of Mexico.

The first thing that I noticed about this town that sets itself apart from other towns in Mexico is that all the houses have porches--a feature that is missing from most Mexican houses. But, due to the heat, thank goodness these porches exist. All we did for the two days we were in Achotal was porch-sit. And really, it was great.

For years, I've been told about the river that runs near the house. Given the heat, I was nearly delirious for a chance to swim in it. However, when Mario and I went to investigate it, it had risen higher than Mario had ever seen it and swallowed up the beaches that we could use to safely enter it. Therefore, swimming was ruled a bad idea. Nuts.

I entertained myself with the flora and fauna. Chickens strolled freely through the yard (and streets), and iguanas hopped from tree to tree. Having never seen an iguana in its natural habitat before, I was fascinated (and took way too many pictures).

Mario's grandfather was a cattle rancher and Mario's cousin runs the ranch now. Mario's grandfather and his aunt Evelia live in the wood house that Mario's mom grew up in, while his uncle, cousin and family live next door. Although they've always done well financially, the house is as simple as can be--particularly recently, as the running water is temporarily out of order. (Causing Mario to once again grumble that the country is regressing, instead of progressing.) For me, the lack of running water reminded me of camping, so, needless to say, I loved it.

While their living condition is very, very simple, Mario's grandpa and aunt receive abundant help from their immediate relatives. (More than they feel necessary, I believe.) With exception of the running water problem (I don't know exactly why it was shut off or what it will take to get it back on), they lack for nothing. Would that I could say the same for so many other senior citizens here and everywhere.

Limon y Melon

It gets really hot here.

Therefore, I want cool snacks.

Mexico has a national obsession with limes.

Mario and I are now in love with lime sherbet.

I didn't like cantaloupe.

But one day I mixed it with lime sherbet.

I'm in love.