Destination: Desierto de los Leones

The Desierto de los Leones is neither a desert, nor are there lions. I believe the original inhabitants came up with the name just to keep other people away. However, my brother-in-law is a bit more knowledgable on the subject and says that there used to be mountain lions in the mountains outside of Mexico City (on the road to Toluca) and, years ago, a desierto could be used to describe any kind of deserted place, whether a true desert or a cold, mountanous forest.

But the name is a lot more poetic as the misnomer I thought it was.

Regardless, the week that I was in Mexico City, my sister-in-law suggested going to El Desierto instead of Chapuletpec. Being closer to their house, cheaper, and less crowded, I was game. And it is now one of my most favorite places in this entire country.

First of all, we went on a Wednesday, which meant that there were a grand total of 20 other people visiting that day. Plus, the sky threatened rain all day. I'm sure that helped keep people away, too. Had we visited on a weekend, the place would likely have been packed. I highly recommend rainy Wednesdays.

In general visitors to the park come to have picnics, rent shelters for birthday parties or family gatherings, and just to have a dia de campo. However, being my first time there, we went to the ex-convent. I love ex-convents. And this is now my favorite one (sorry, Tlaxcala--you'll have to be content being #2).

Most convents in Mexico closed, or became government property during the reform movement in the 1850s-1860s. However, Very Knowledgeable Brother-in-law claims that this one was closed because the nuns from this order had to take a vow of silence to live there. One can live in silence for only so long before craziness sets in. So as the convent slowly became a lunatic aslyum, someone in charge decided that the best thing to do was to abandon the property. Personally, I think a more sensible step would have been to allow the nuns to talk, but they didn't ask my advice.

Being a woodland paradise it would have been heaven to live in, overlooking the wicked cold the nuns would have had to endure in the winter, of course. Now it makes for a great place for chilangos to excape their concrete jungle. It's also impeccably well-maintained by both the government and Grupo Bimbo. There are trails to walk around in the woods, and a path to a river, which I'll explore the next chance I get. However, Clara and her cousins liked the playground equipment best of all, of couse.

My Mother-In-Law's Backyard

I just couldn't walk away from this last month without posting pictures of the backyard of my in-laws' house in Morelos. It's one of my favorite places ever, as long as the temperature is less than 104 degrees (but, for those days, there's always shade. Or the hose).

This first picture, with the purple and green potted plants are plants that I borrowed from my mother-in-law and planted in pots in my patio. And hoo-Nelly, have they taken over! I just saved my Gerber daisy from the purple stuff, and am hoping that the poinsetta will hold its own. But that delicate-looking green plant that surrounds the purple monster is menthol (or alcanfor as Mario's mom says). When my sister-in-law suffered from a cold for months on end, some of the menthol was cut, put in a vase in Lili's room, and was rumored to have some positive effect. After all, it is the main ingredient in Vick's VapoRub, right? (Well, let me dream that it is.) Sitting in our patio, I rubbed a menthol leaf for Mario, made him smell it and said, "Ah . . . it smells like Jojutla." After smelling it he looked a me a bit shocked and asked, "How did you do that?" Yeah, I'm that good.

And, like I mentioned in my first post from Morelos, there are bananas growing in the backyard. Bananas are almost always in season.






The red fruit below is called "Bull's Balls". It's edible, but I have yet to try it as I just can't get past the name.














And that tall, skinny tree on the right is a papaya tree. If you've never seen a papaya, they're roughly the size of a small watermelon. And they hang from the top of that skinny tree. I still can't figure that one out.

Also residing in the backyard are a lime tree, a mandarin orange tree, and a regular orange tree that grows sweet oranges on one side and sour oranges on the other (thanks to the magic of grafting). All this in the space of a four-car garage. Like I've said before, plants just like to grow in Morelos.

A few years ago, she also had a chocolate tree. This was, by far, my favorite plant in the backyard. My mother-in-law had hung a wreath of individually-wrapped chocolates from one of the lime tree's branches, and as we sat under the tree and had ganas for some chocolate, we just reached up, pulled off a chocolate and munched away.

Unfortunately, the chocolate tree hasn't bared fruit for some time now. Then again, the middle of the summer isn't quite the season for chocolate.

I'm Engaged!

Yeah, I know you're thinking, "ummm . . . I thought you were married?"

True story.

But Mario proposed again last night. And I accepted.

A few weeks ago, my wedding ring fell out of the pocket of my pants. As my engagement ring nearly constantly accompanies my wedding ring, I checked my pockets to find it, so it wouldn't wind up lost on the bathroom floor. No luck. Where on earth was my engagement ring?

I spent my free moments in that week before I left for chilangolandia looking for the ring, without success. In a few instances, I thought, "what if Mario stole it to take it to a jewler and finally get the pearl replaced?"

Instead of a diamond, I had a pearl, but the pearl fell off when we visited the Monarch butterfly sanctuary in March of 2008, never to be found again.

Nah, Mario's not near romantic enough to do that. When he gave me the ring in the first place, instead of a thoughful, gushy speech which ended in "would you marry me?" Mario shoved the ring box at me and asked, "Do you still want this?"

Charming. Obviously, it would never cross Mario's mind to take my ring without my knowledge and replace the pearl. Let's be realistic and love the man you've got, Jill. Quirks included.

So I left for my month in Morelos, ring free. At least if I got mugged in Mexico City I wouldn't have to worry about them taking the rings.

Last night when we got home, Mario noticed my wedding ring on the dresser by itself, and asked, "so did you ever find your engagment ring?"

"No," I replied. "And I can't imagine where it would be either. After all, I never have it without the wedding ring . . . "

While I was saying this, Mario reached into the drawer in his bedside table, pulled out a ring box, pulled back the lid to reveal my ring with a new pearl, and asked, "Do you still want to marry me?"

Awww . . . of course I do!

Just shows that I still don't have him completely figured out. What a relief that is.

Ode to Morelos

I really do love this state. It drives me crazy sometimes, but it feels comfortable, like an old, holey sock that I just can't bear to throw away. OK, so sometimes it's comfortable and sometimes it's not.

But whenever we came here when we lived in the state of Mexico, I knew without the help of any roadside sign when exactly we had passed into Morelos. The state of Mexico reminds me of waves of grain (behind a mountanous background). On the drive, we briefly pass through Guerrero, which is on the verge of desert. Upon crossing Morelos, the vegetation explodes. Plants run amok here, refusing to be fenced in. It´s not the neatest or most orderly scene, espeially given how many Mexicans I know are fanatical about clipping grass back to the bare ground, trimming bushes to painful works of topiary art, sweeping fallen leaves off of patches of bare dirt, and daily washing sidewalks with soap and water. Morelenses are fanatical about cutting back their plants because otherwise the plants would take over! Here cutting back plants is a matter of survival.

Being here these last two weeks, I've been dreaming up some catchy slogans for the state.

• Morelos: the recovering alcholic's worst nightmare. Micheladas (1L beer + salsa + lime juice) are sold on every roadside.
• Morelos: birthplace of the speed bump. I seriously pass a good fifty during my 40 minute commute between Jojutla and Miacatlan.
• Morelos: watch your head--falling fruit!
• Morelos: where cows have the right of way on state highways.
• Morelos: where candles melt BEFORE they have the chance to be lit!
• Morelos: Mexico City´s swimming pool. (Let´s face it, chilangos really do quadruple the population of the state every weekend . . . or maybe that´s just my perspective, as I live with a chilango.)

I'll add more as I remember more. Anybody else have any others?

Sillas Morelenses

Maybe they're not just a Morelos thing.

Maybe they're just a hot-weather-place thing.

Whatever they are, I see them everywhere!

It's the circle chair!

Two iron rebar circles + 4 rebar legs + a wicked amount of vinyl rope = one very comfortable chair. It appears that everybody and their brother has at least one of these on their porch, patio, sidewalk . . . anywhere there is enough space. After all, these hot-weather states are great for sitting around for hours in a comfortable chair.

One of my friends was really excited about getting one of these beauties upon moving to Cuernavaca. However, I believe it took her roughly 6 months to find a place that sells them. How is this possible? If everyone has one, why are they nowhere to be found? Note: I've seen them sold on the side of the highway. However, as my friend is without car, stopping a bus to buy a bulky chair off the back of a truck is highly improbable. Back to Mexican Rule #1: make things as difficult as possible.

(Another note: this is not a cynical observation. Once Rule #1 is embraced, life in Mexico loses much of its frustration. For less heartburn, embrace Rule #1.)

But, back to the circle chair. My inlaws are blessed with a variety of them, and Clara has been generous enough to model to other prototypes--the baby cirle and the rocker.

Creepy Critters

Now that I live in the desert,I've been particularly disappointed that I don't find wildlife climbing the walls of my house like I used to. After all, in Toluca, one of the coldest cities in Mexico, I often found tiny lizards just hanging out with me on the roof of our apartment. In Saltillo--in the desert--I have yet to find any (although a friend of mine catches some in her backyard all the time. What´s the deal? Why aren't they in my patio? Are we too close to the center of town? We don't have any grass? Mario sprays too much DDT?)

Anyway, the other day I saw an adorable little lizard climbing the walls of my mother-in-law's house. She was less than thrilled. She HATES having animals in the house, particularly uninvited ones. The little lizard was hanging on the wall, just above the level of suegra's head. She marched right up to it, hands on her hips, and just began yelling at this lizard. "You need to get out of here! Go home! You don't belong here! Get out! If I see you again, I'll kill you! You hear that--I'll KILL you!"

After that tirade, she sat back down at the table with me, and under her breath she confided, "I wouldn't really kill it. Lizards like that are such noble creatures. But they need to be talked to firmly. That's the only way they'll go away."

Good to know.

I am also much relieved that she has no plans to kill the little guy. I do enjoy those little lizards so much.

But she was right, after all. We haven't seen the little guy since.

Where Bananas Grow in the Backyard

Yes, we've done it again! Clara and I are taking a month away from the great white north (and Hurricane Alex) to hang out with Mario's family and my kids in Morelos, two hours south of Mexico City.

This trip came about as a bit of a fluke. We hadn't seen Mario's family since Clara's birthday in January, and I was missing them a bit. However, no long weekends were in sight for quite a few months. Furthermore, Mario's niece had her third birthday on the 28th of June (the third birthday is a big deal in Mexico), plus the girls that I took care of at NPH will be graduating 6th grade. I really wanted to be here. So I casually mentioned to Mario the idea of maybe going here for a few weeks (sometimes flights between Monterrey and Mexico City are very affordable) and he said he had been thinking the same thing! However, his plan was to drive down, and leave me the car to visit my kids. He´d fly home and then come back for us in a month.

A month?

I was kind of thinking that two weeks would be good.

But Mario reminded me that his nephew would have his birthday about a month after his niece. OK. I was sold. I'm a sucker for those kids and don't get to see them near enough. After all, they're a big reason why we're here in the first place.

But now that we´ve been here for a week, I have additional reasons to be excited that we've got a few more weeks to go. Graduation at NPH was NOT held during that first weekend of July, as it has been since time began (OK, since Zedillo extended the school year to trim summer vacation to a meager 6 weeks). School started a week late this year, which means that graduation is this week instead of last week. I'm glad I had that flex time in my schedule. Plus, my sister-in-law mentioned going to the zoo in Chapultepec Park while we're in Mexico City. I love Chapultepec Park.

The flaw in Mario's plan was that which gave me use of the car. I've sworn for years that I would NEVER drive south of San Luis Potosi. With no set rules, combis, buses, and bikes swerving all over the roads, I was positive that driving here was beyond my skills. Furthermore, I haven't even driven in Saltillo since April (the mighty Cougar has been in the shop since then). I thought I was not ready to tackle driving with those not educated in Saltillo.

I was wrong. I have driven twice to NPH now from Jojutla (40 minutes away) and enjoyed it. Will wonders never cease?

Now our plan is: one more week in Jojutla, one week in Mexico City, and then one more week in Jojutla. Awesome.