Clase de Espanol

I haven't written a post in several weeks.  Besides trying out recipes from Rick Bayless, my mexiphile energies have been directed toward Spanish class.

I signed up for a class through the community education branch of the school district.  It was canceled, I assume because too few people enrolled.  I found another class, and though I am paying five times more (!), I'm getting a very intensive course, 6 hours a week for 9 weeks through the University of Guadalajara's International Language Center at San Antonio, ILCSA.

My Spanish is somehow, at the same time, both better and worse than I thought.  I can understand almost everything the instructor is saying, unless I allow my attention to lapse (thanks to all my hard work listening to Spanish pop music and watching mindless Spanish TV).  I am re-learning my verb endings, and there are not so many to remaster as I feared.  I understand a very broad range of vocabulary.  But, boy do I feel dumb when I try to converse!  Even in that department, it's a 50/50 mix: sometimes I'm brilliant.  Okay, maybe even more than half the time.  But la perfeccionista (me) is not happy with that. I feel driven to accomplish perfect Spanish skills.  What I really want is to have the skills of a native speaker.  Well, obviously that's not going to happen.  Nevertheless, on the whole I am really enjoying the experience, and I am amazed to see how much more I am owning my learning than when I majored in Spanish at UTSA.  I find it sad that the maturity to be an excellent learner doesn't arrive until one's life is crowded with many other responsibilites and demands.  When I was 18, I had time on my hands, and I enjoyed learning, but what did I know of how to make the most of the opportunity before me?  At 36, I long to be able to acquire knowledge and understanding, but that has to be a sideline in my life right now (academically speaking, anyway).  Well, maybe it is that scarcity that makes it precious to me.

The class I'm currently taking is Level 3 of 6 offered at the language institute.  I don't know how long I'll be able to commit time- and money-wise, but for now estoy muy contenta.

My Mexican Kitchen

On my shopping list last week:

Limes (lots)
Cilantro
Jalapenos
Corn Tortillas
Tomatillos
Crema (Mexican sour cream)
Avocados
Mangos
I actually followed through with my intentions to use these ingredients by...cooking!  But my timing wasn't very good-- my husband was out of town for the first iteration:  Black Bean-Chicken Tostadas with Salsa Verde.  I even fried the corn tortillas to make the tostadas.  I was pretty impressed with myself, even if dinner was finally ready over an hour late.

What happened to me?  I got hooked on Rick Bayless.  I think I am wearing out his welcome in our home by constantly beginning sentences with, "Rick Bayless says...".  Actually now all I have to say is "He says..." and my husband knows who I mean.  Rick Bayless brought real "interior" Mexican cooking to the U.S.  Maybe he wasn't the first.  There's also Diana Kennedy, and she's a lot older than Rick, but based on my limited knowledge, I think of him as analogous to Julia Child with French food.  At least he's my Julia Child when it comes to Mexican food.  What excites me as I learn about the food eaten in Mexico is that it is so much broader than Tex-Mex.  I haven't discovered everything there is to discover about Tex-Mex, and I'm not knocking it, but after reading so many Tex-Mex restaurant menus, the prospect of exploring a greater range of food I'd never known about is enticing.  And some of the equipment used to make the food is so ancient, primitive, and earthy, which adds to the intrigue.  I think I'll be getting a molcajete ,a Mexican mortar.  "He" says basalt is the kind to get.  Rick's show, Mexico: One Plate at a Time, airs on PBS weekly, and maybe even on the Food Network (?).  About half of the scenes are shot in Mexico, the other half in Rick's Chicago home.  I love the scenes from Mexico, of street and restaurant food being prepared and eaten.  I ordered a DVD from the first season of the show, but have only seen one episode of what's airing currently.  It was enough to get me going.  I also bought the companion cookbook, of the same name as the series.

Slight problem with this new manifestation of my multi-faceted obsession with things Mexican-- I can't even think about eating anything other than Mexican--true Mexican-- food right now, and I'm even beginning to turn up my nose at Taco Cabana (well, a little bit).  I did manage to eat the pizza my husband made today.  And if I'm cooking, I'm sure he'll be happy to eat Mexican, until I calm down a little, and it doesn't hurt that Rick's classic margarita recipe is killer.

Next year's Diez y Seis

I ended up going to the Independencia ceremony at Municipal Auditorium by myself.  Oddly, I began having flashbacks the day of the ceremony of having gone to one years ago, when we lived in San Antonio the first time.  That time mi esposo querido, my dear spouse, was with me. He astounded me when I got home from the ceremony Wednesday night by telling me that he remembered even more than I did about that night: we were interviewed by a newspaper reporter and were quoted in the next day's paper!  It is not like me to forget such things.  Anyway, I now remember that I was especially interested in going that year because the Instituto Cultural Mexicano is the/a main sponsor, and I had just begun volunteering there as a docent to school groups for the Institute's  Diego Rivera exhibit.  I got that gig by responding to an ad in the paper.  I remember the ad stipulated that the respondent be 21, and I was still only 20!  But they took me anyway.  What a privilege!  I wish I had done more there-- I don't think I did anything after that one exhibit, though I did interview the director- in Spanish- for a class, as I was at UTSA working on my Spanish degree.

Well, back to the celebracion.  It was delightful.  Many women were beautifully decked out in traditional dresses, while others, both men and women, sported Mexico's team soccer shirts.  Several women who were not fully costumed in Mexican garb had made an effort to add some Mexican-inspired flair to their outfits, like long tiered skirts or bright red or green shawls.

I most enjoyed listening to the couple sitting behind me as they enjoyed the evening.  They were around 50 years old, and the man wore a black cowboy hat, as did many of the Mexican men.  He was a real  jugeton, jokester (serendipitously, I just learned that word in an obituary I read today in the San Antonio Express-News ("Garcia's Blue Moon Cafe...")).  They were a charming combination: he whistling very loudly in approbation of the performers, making little jokes throughout the evening, and singing along with the songs of the Mariachis; she laughing and giggling and enjoying his clowning. 

My regret is that I did not befriend this couple right away.  Once when he was singing--he had a marvelous voice and knew every word-- I made a clapping motion behind me to applaud him.  Then, as the military drill team was preparing to exit the auditorium, I started to leave, then stopped, thinking maybe I should wait as a sign of respect.  It was then that she tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned around.  She asked me, "Estas de aqui in San Antonio?"  "Are you from here in San Antonio?" "Si..."  I hesitated, unsure how much information I ought to attempt in Spanish. "Pues, de muchas veces.  Mi esposo es en la Fuerza Aerea.  Pero no soy Mexicana."  "Well, from many times (I meant to say muchos lugares, many places).  My husband is in the Air Force.  But I am not Mexican."  Embarrassed and unsure what else I could say, I turned back around, and we spoke no more.  Sigh.  They were as interested in me as a curiosity (non-Mexican) as I was in them.  I had an opportunity, not only to speak Spanish, but to enjoy interacting with them.  This happens to me all the time.  I have become painfully shy.  I could speak Spanish multiple times a day if I were bold enough.  I have Spanish-speaking neighbors next door and down the street whom I have not even told that I speak Spanish.  I want to be more outgoing.  At next year's celebration, I hope to wear something Mexican, and chat with some Spanish-speakers.

                                                                          

Latin Music USA

Watch online at http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/latinmusicusa/

Part 1 covers the beginnings of the afro cuban influence on Jazz in New York in the 40s, and ends with the Woodstock performance of then-unknown Santana.  Parts 2-4 bring the story up to today's Latin pop and reggaeton.  Lots of ah-ha moments about the little-known influence of Latin rhythms on mainstream American music.  I started listening to Spanish-language music just for the Spanish language, and was hooked.  That was around 1994, and the cassette tape (?) was Gloria Estefan, Mi Tierra.  I'll have to reacquire that one-- I heard one of the songs at Taco Cabana a few weeks ago.

Mexico en mi casa

One of the reasons Mexican culture fascinates me is its aesthetics of color.  As I browse through my favorite armchair travel book, Knopf Guides: Mexico (see Reading List), I see really LOUD color everywhere.  I would not choose to live in a turquoise or blood-red or purple house, yet when I see pictures of these riotous colors on stucco houses, I find it very exciting, and these colors make me HAPPY.






I discovered this effect of bright colors on me when I decided to begin collecting Homer Laughlin Fiesta Ware china several years ago.  Looking through my glass-front kitchen cabinet (alas, left behind a few moves ago) at the stack of dinner plates, or seeing the array of clean Fiesta Ware in my dishwasher, brings a little thrill.

There's also something about the unmatched place settings that seems like a therapeutic antidote to my neurotic perfectionism.  Comparing my middle-class white American ideals and "rules" of  tasteful decorating to what I am drawn to about Mexican ideals, my version looks pretty bland, pretty colorless.  However, (and I will have to look into this), I believe that some of the reasons for the bright colors used in Mexican culture have to do with warding off evil spirits--at least traditionally-- and I don't need that--or do I?  Well, not in the same sense, but if seeing bright colors sets off some happy brain chemicals which lead to my being a little sweeter for a few hours, I'll take all the help I can get.  Anyway, I can't, and don't want to, completely escape my cultural ideas about beauty, but I can move a little closer to what I have found pleases me.

I started a new collection Saturday when I bought my first piece of Mexican talavera (pottery).  I'll have to take a picture in one of the stores to show the effect of multiple pieces gathered together, but here is my first piece, a serving bowl.

Viva Mexico!

San Antonio's mayor, Julian Castro, has been appointed by President Obama to accompany a coterie of administration officials to Mexico City to participate in Mexico's bicentennial independence celebration.  Mexican Independence Day, September 16, is often referred to simply as "Diez y Seis" (Sixteen). 

Although not appointed by the President, I plan to attend San Antonio's Diez y Seis celebration at the Municipal Auditorium Wednesday night, where Armando Ortiz Rocha, Consul General de Mexico, will lead the "El Grito" ceremony, according to the San Antonio Express-News.

"El Grito" means "The Cry", and echoes the passionate address of Father Miguel Hidalgo urging the people of the village of Dolores to begin the rebellion against the Spanish in 1810.  Every September 15 at 11:00pm  the President of Mexico issues the cry from the balcony of the National Palace in Mexico City.  Several other Grito celebrations will take place in U.S. cities such as New York, Los Angeles, and Washington, DC.

In San Antonio's ceremony, the  Consul General will shout out a series of "Vivas":  "Viva La Independencia!"  (The crowd responds, "Viva!"), "Viva Mexico!" ("Viva!").  He'll also shout Vivas to specific heroes of the fight for independence.  I still have to learn the names of the revered ones who correspond to our Paul Revere, George Washington, etc.

I'm not Mexican, I have no Mexican heritage, but I am a Mexiphile, after all, so I can't wait to "Viva!" as many people and political entities as they can think of.  And then I might just come home and do it all again as I watch the official ceremony live from Mexico City on Univision.

Fiestas Patrias

Market Square, with my favorite Mexican decoration, "picado" (cut-work) banners

We went to colorful Market Square in downtown San Antonio for "Fiestas Patrias", Patriotic Festivals, commemorating Mexican Independence Day next week.  We shopped Mexican imports and ate at Mi Tierra, and hoped to be around when the "ballet folklorico", folk dancers, took stage, but our timing wasn't right.  We did, however, see a few little dancers inside one of the shopping areas.

Father Hidalgo on the walls of Mi Tierra Cafe and Bakery

September 16 is "El dia de independencia", Independence Day, for Mexico.  This year marks the bicentennial of the war for independence from Spain, which began on September 15, 1810 with "el grito de Dolores", the Cry of Dolores.  Father Miguel Hidalgo, priest of Dolores, issued the battle cry that led,  eleven years later in 1821, to Mexican victory.

The best part of eating at Mi Tierra was the eye-popping decor of the place, particularly the murals.  The walls of the cattle-lot sized restaurant are covered with painted portraits of every Mexican/Mexican-American of note.  I'm not knowledgable enough to know if there are famous people from other hispanic nations.  It was fun to pick out the few people I did recognize:

Emiliano Zapata, Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera