Independence Day Changeroo

The kids´ school celebrated Independence Day on a Friday, with the kids all dressed up in costumes.  Joey was told to come as an Indian.  Having seen other kids, I knew that all we had to do was dress him in khaki pants, sandals, and cut a hole in a jerga (mop rag) to make him a cheap serape.  And lots of parents paint mustaches on their little boys´ faces.

That´s pretty much the whole reason I wanted to have a little boy--to paint a mustache on his face for Independence Day.

Joey liked the mustache, and he was surprisingly open to wearing his sandals.  But he hated the serape and refused to wear it.  I packed it along with him, and send him to school in his khakis, sandals, mustache and red "Made in Mexico" T-shirt.

Just imagine him with a mustache--that´s exactly how I sent him to school.

Imagine my surprise when I show up at the program for the parents and he´s dressed like this!

It turns out, he´s a good deal less adamant about having his own way when he´s at school.  Or Maestra Mary´s Indian costume was a good deal cooler than mine.  Either way, he wasn´t the only kid in his class wearing everyday clothes.    

Winery Tour--Queretaro

For years, Mario has been telling me that I needed to see Queretaro.  That it´s one of the most wonderful cities in all of Mexico.  So colonial, so full of trees and flowers, so full of culture.  And we were almost there this last weekend.

But we went a half hour out of our way and went to Bernal, instead.

Queretaro may indeed be charming.  I sure don´t know.  But I´m pretty smitten with Bernal and the area surrounding it.  And at under 7 hours from Saltillo, we´ll be back for another long weekend.  (That´s Mario-drive-time, of course.  Normal people will not make it from Saltillo to Queretaro that quickly.)

Did you know that . . . Querétaro is one of the most important states in wine production?
(I´m guessing that it´s second--behind Baja California, of course.)

Our point in stationing ourselves in Bernal was to take advantage of the Wine and Cheese Trail.  Places in Bernal do offer guided tours to wineries and cheese makers, but we made our own tour.  On our list, Freixenet Vineyards, Azteca Vineyards, and Redonda Vineyards.  For cheese, we were hoping to find a variety of cheese makers, but El Hostal de los Quesos was well stocked and we couldn´t ask for anything more.

Patio at Freixenet

First on our stop was Viñedos Freixenet.  I´ve had their wine before, and it´s good, but not exceptional.  And stopping by the vineyard, it became clear that while they may be in the wine business (and doing a pretty good job at it) they are also very much in the tourism business, and take full advantage of their proximity to the hordes from Mexico City, looking to get out on the weekends. They offer a variety of tours--basic tours cost $60 a person, tour depth, length, and price expand from there.  Every other weekend, they offer wine pairing classes, which include full meals.

Their buildings and grounds are beautiful, making me almost feel like I was in Napa instead of Queretaro.  Like I said, these guys have wine tourism down pat.   I would have been happy to stay and get to know the place better, but we were on a mission, and had to stock up on more wine.

Azteca Vineyards is just on the other side of the street from Freixenet.  The gate was open, but as we entered, I noticed a sign that said that they only did tours by appointment.  No problem--we were just there to buy wine.  However, it was a sign that things at Azteca were a great deal different from Big Ol´ Freixenet.

Now, on September 15th (the day we were there) Freixenet was opening up an additional parking lot to accomodate all their visitors.  At Azteca, there was one other car besides ours.  They didn´t look open.  We drove around a bit.  Then a car came driving up like he owned the place.  (I think he did.)  We asked if they were open, and he told us to follow him.  We got to the store, where we were told they were not open.  But then boss-man said that we, and the guests he had with him in his car, were welcome to buy what we wanted.  Excellent.

Azteca´s tourism niche is that they also boast stables and a charro (Mexican cowboy) program.  Their grounds were filled with grapevines (of course) and ponds and horses and stables and old-style Mexican buildings--very appropriate to visit on September 15th.  I was in love with the place and wished they were open, so we could have spent more time there.  However, they had a big harvest festival that weekend, so their staff was understandably having a very deserved day off that Monday.  Now we know for next year--Independence Day weekend at Viñedos Azteca!

In short, Azteca seemed a little more serious about their wine and less serious about tourism.

Third and last on our list was Redonda Vineyards.  We had to wind our way through the town of Ezekiel Montes again (not fun), as they are on the other side of it.  They were also closed for tours, but their store was buzzing.  Redonda had plenty of picnic tables on their patio and a variety of play equipment for kids (thank you, thank you, thank you!).  For those hungry, they also sold cheese and cold cut trays, and plenty of families were enjoying a wine-laden picnic right there.

We spent a very relaxing half-hour there.  We would have stayed longer, but rain was falling as we were leaving.  And had we come on a day besides Monday, we probably could have had a tour.

But I´m looking forward to enjoying their wine at my leisure this week!

As for tasting rooms?  Freixenet offers tastings for a price, of course.  The other two did not offer tastings (nor does Casa Madero, here in Parras, so I was not surprised).  Just a word to the wise, if you´re used to California tasting rooms!  Even though I´m used to it, I still get disappointed.

Once "The Gringa", Always "The Gringa"

I´ve got this stigma that I just can´t shake.

No matter how long I´ve lived here, no matter how awesome my Spanish is, no matter how many times I walk my dog around the block (or maybe because I walk my dog around the block so often), it´s becoming clear to me that I will always be "The Gringa".  Even when I´m 75 and will have lived here for 50 years, I bet I´ll still be "The Gringa".

Now, that´s not necessarily a bad thing.  And, depending on the situation, I know that my "Gringa" label puts me in a privileged position, so I´m not complaining.  The label just keeps slapping me in the face with perspective.

Is there a story to go along with this insight?  You bet´cha!  

As stated before, I´m a stay-at-home mom.  The job has many perks, but loneliness is a common complaint.  In a effort to get out of my house and be more active in my community, I ran up to my church´s office one August day a few years ago, answering their yearly plea for catechists.  Work with children who weren´t my own?  It sounded great to me.  They asked me for my number, and I gladly gave it.

And they never called.

Now, maybe they actually had plenty of catechism volunteers that year.  It´s entirely possible.  Perhaps the office staff doesn´t communicate effectively with the catechism coordinator.  Also possible.  But seriously--who gets denied the opportunity to teach Sunday school?  Maybe this is one of those instances where Mexico is wildly different from the US, because in my experience, there are NEVER enough Sunday school teachers (or catechists, if we continue to speak Catholic).

So there was a dream deferred.

Last year when Clara started preschool, all the parents were summoned to a meeting to pull straws to decide who would serve on the PTA board.  Volunteers were not forthcoming, so as the principal´s eyes were scanning the crowd, I made some kind of tentative, affirmative, "I-can-do-this" motion.  If only to get the meeting moving along so we could leave.  However, the open post was for secretary, and we kind of all agreed (myself included) that maybe The Gringa should not have to be responsible for writing everything down.  In Spanish.  Whew--danger averted!

Fast forward to this year:

 I took Clara to the church office to sign her up for catechism.  I repeated my desire to help with the catechism program.  They told both Clara and I to just show up on Saturday, sign up then, and let the coordinator know I wanted to help.  I could have knocked him over with a feather, with my request to help, but I´m now in like Flynn.

And at the PTA draw-straws event this year, the volunteers were flying off the shelves.  I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I would be free from responsibility and could simply pay my dues and be done.

Then the principal realized that the PTA board consisted entirely of parents from one class.  We can´t have that!

"Hey, Clara´s mom--why don´t you join us?"

There was no delicate way of declining.  Plus, I was a wee bit curious to know what exactly goes on with the PTA board.  So now I have a few responsibilities outside of my home.  Whew!  After getting my driver´s liscense, this feels like Step #2 of being a real adult again.

Yikes.

So do I wonder if being "The Gringa" stood in my way in the past in my efforts to be more involved.  Sure.  Did being "The Gringa" put me forward unintentionally?  Quite likely.  Like I said, at least it´s a neutral/positive label to bear.

My sympathies for those who have to fight their labels.  May I not be one of those who impede you.

The Things I Can Get Away With Here . . .

Clara´s homework the other day was for her to bring in some vowel flashcards.  No problem.

I cut the cardboard, wrote the vowels, and after a grand total of 5 minutes, we were set!

Then, I noticed the box that I cut the cardboard from.  I don´t know that I´d be able to send those letters with her to school if we lived in the US!

However, as we don´t, I didn´t think twice about it.

I Knew It Was a Great Idea!

Ten years ago, I worked at a children´s home.  A very large children´s home.  I helped take care of 25 first and second grade girls.  Now, for those of you who have also taken care of school-age children, lice is simply a fact of life.  Rather like chicken pox.

Except that we can get lice more than once.  That´s a real bummer.

Our girls were no exception to this fact of life.  And because they all lived together in close quarters (and we didn´t have great access to lice shampoo that year) everyone spent at least a couple of weeks out of the year with lice.

As I was the most mature and among the more patient of the women who took care of these girls, I was the designated lice-picker.

Surprisingly, though, the more I did it, the more I enjoyed it.  It was mindless work, but I could be seated fairly comfortably.  (Can´t say the same for my lice-infested counterpart, but . . . them´s the shakes.)  It was quiet work and no one was hanging on me or whining at me (unless it was the kid whose head I was picking at, but again . . . too bad for them!)   I actually looked forward to lice-picking hour.

And then it dawned on me--I could sell out my amazing nit-picking services!  If lice-infested kids aren´t allowed to go to school, how much time can working parents really take off to pick the lice out of their kids´ heads?  Would some even be willing to PAY me to do it?

Turns out, somebody beat me to that punch!

If you´ve got a lice-y kid in Saltillo, send them to Piki-Piki, downtown on Salazar, just south of the Alameda.

Last Day of School Drama

Clara is in preschool.

She´s a pretty normal preschooler.  She´s not much into "drama".  At least, not the kind of drama I´m thinking of which stereotypes middle school girls.  Whew!

But I had my own little bit of drama the two weeks before school got out.

The last day of school is one of those days for the classes to show off, dance a dance, etc. for the parents.  I love that kind of stuff.  And it got even better for me, because Clara´s school is apparently a little short on girls.  Clara´s class was the one class which didn´t have a presentation planned.  However, the 3-year-old class was short on girls, so they conscripted Clara to join them for their dance.  And the kindergarten class was also short on girls, so a few kindergarten boys needed a partner for their graduation waltz.

Yes, the graduation waltz.

Quick explanation:  it seems that whenever a class of students graduates from school at any level (well, maybe not high school, but I have no high school experience in Mexico to speak of) they have to preform an elaborately choreographed "waltz" for their parents and other well-wishers.  Paired off, boy and girl.  Personally, I love the 6th grade and 9th grade versions, as the kids look like they´d rather curl up and die than do this waltz.  But the kindergartners?  They´re just cute. No surprises there.

But back to my drama.

The three-year-old teacher has always struck me as a bit of a fussy woman.  When she was explaining what the kids would have to wear for their costume, my fears were confirmed.  They needed  a white leotard and lace socks. A thick ribbon to wear in their lacquered ponytails.  And a circle skirt.  Made out of poliseda.  With tulle--soft tulle--just peeking out from under the top layer.

Where was I going to find this very specific circle skirt?

Right.  I needed to MAKE it.  Of course.

Now, I could have taken the obvious, easy route and taken the material and Clara´s measurements to my friend Olga or any number of houses down the street that offer seamstress skills.  That would have been the rational thing to do.

But I like a challenge.  And I´m stubborn.  And I´m one of the biggest tightwads you´ll ever meet. I´ve really got to learn how to overcome some of these personality quirks.

And so I made the skirt myself.  Without a pattern. Without a sewing machine.  Without even crying to Patty, "Help-I´ve-gotten-in-over-my-head-and-I´m-running-out-of-time-and-I-know-you-can-do-this-better-than-me!"

And the circle skirt was made.  On time.

My real question is, why aren´t these skirts readily available in stores all over the country?  Preschools and elementary schools in this country are OBSESSED with the musical, Grease, and I´m fairly confident that every Mexican child dons a ´50s-style costume at least once in their educational career.

Maybe I just missed them.

But I did learn that my sewing skills can rise up to that challenge.

And that´s probably why I took that challenge in the first place.

Final Flag Ceremony

Clara is STILL in school.

I could handle the narcos running amok.  But this 205-day school year?  I may have to leave the country.

All that aside, we are in the final stretch, as today was the last flag ceremony of the year.

Every Monday morning, every single school in Mexico has a flag ceremony.  A select of that school´s oldest and best students are chosen to be in the color guard.  A month or two ago, Clara´s teacher asked her if she wanted to be in the color guard.  I beamed with pride at my little genius.

She said no.

Typical Clara.  I finally got her to tell me why she didn´t want to do it, and she said she just didn´t want to hold the flag, because it would be too heavy.  I reminded her that only one kid got to hold the flag and that a number of other just walk around it.  She could be one of those that walked with the flag.  With the added incentive that her best friend was in the color guard this past year, she was finally convinced to join.

I think they practiced every day for the last month.  And today, the last Monday of the school year, in a beautiful ceremony full of preschool-aged pomp and circumstance, the graduating kindergarten kids handed the flag off to the incoming kindergartners.  

I eat this kind of stuff up.

The kindergartners, on their final lap around the patio.

The big hand off.

The preschoolers show off the hours they spent on precision marching.

Safely turning the flag over to the principal.

The female-dominated 2014-2015 escolta.  The poor lone wolf on the right!