Remember Us?

After writing what I realized was like the dreaded Christmas Letter I decided to delete it. Instead I want to reflect on what the past few years since we've posted to this blog have meant to Mark and me.

We have a beautiful home, many intelligent and charming friends, a meaningful life in a country that, while it's pretty accurately described as dysfunctional, is gracious and welcoming. We are diligently studying Spanish and to our delight and amazement we're actually able to have conversations on the telephone or in person without making too many mistakes. This opens us to meaningful connections with our neighbors (Hilda makes the best tamales every Saturday), chats with the vendors in the mercado, and jokes with the taxi driver who takes me home from the mercado. The weather, the number of tourists in town, the condition of our street (terrible)--it allows us to have a sense of belonging. Not deep but enough.

I for one feel very privileged to have had this opportunity to live in another culture and language. The rich indigenous presence here, seen on the street every day as the women wear their traditional dress, is around us always. Just seeing how women use their rebozos (shawls) to carry children, keep warm, haul home heavy loads, or just decorate themselves, is instructive. The Pure'pecha culture is very much alive and well and by and large the people are very friendly.

We both feel it was one of the best things we've ever done. It's a shame that some people come to México only because the weather is good and the living is cheap. Well, here in Pátzcuaro the weather isn't all that good sometimes--we've had over an inch of rain today and it's not over--and it's not as cheap as it used to be. People who move to Pátzcuaro are a different breed. I remember seeing a PBS documentary in the 1970s about a community of people who lived in Scotland where it's hard to grow anything. One of the members said something that has stayed with me. He said, and I'm paraphrasing, it takes a little crack for the light to shine through. So all of us have that little crack, and that's why we're here.

Future postings will have more photos. But in the meantime, here's one from the fireworks from Dia de Independencia on the Plaza Grande--the figure in the middle is Vasco de Quiroga, Tata Vasco, who is beloved here. Google him--it's worth knowing about what he did here in the 1530s and why people still love him.