TMi

Something has come to Baja California. Something they call...  La Mala Gringa

Art, prayers and even flowering plants are just about the same. They are beautiful, simple things that can happen anywhere. A hard rain in the desert can cause disastrous flooding, but will spur a bloom to form in the middle of a freeway. A disciplined voice can be heard in the middle of braying-drunk villagers. So this voice is heard from out of a razed place, a Webster place; praying to get out of the ruins. Do the gods listen to tongues that have earned their silver? 

This: a gorgeous poem/song. (I cannot vouch for the total accuracy of these lyrics, but they seem close enough.) Purple pavements Crooked fingers knocking on windows without souls Bodies are swinging from rooftops and poles Howling through hollows Restless nights in one night cheap hotels Oh, I'm only drifting to always come back And I search for something Oh, whatever I don't really care Driving with their lights off they can be anywhere Rolling down their windows Open car with open mouths Golden teeth and golden cards You cover your eyes, you cover your mouth, you cover your ears Still you follow my trail I'll do it all, I'll do whatever you say, God has left me anyway Lava laden pavements Stars with stains and the heaven and afterglow Beneath the ashes our echoes are buried alive They are howling through hollows Once we've shared their temple halls Now our heads are hung up on walls We are ruins within ruins On every corner a gl

This is the first week I have been in Rosarito wherein I am not wearing 5 layers of clothing to keep warm while sitting at the computer. Have any of you in the depths of winter in the north been dealing with such things? Probably not. You all have hissing, pinging, clanging, wonderful radiators in every room with a magic thermostat that gives you the power to make your home the Sahara desert at your command, if it suited you. Since the space heater fried a couple weeks back, I haven't even have that for relief. So it has been quite difficult to sit still and think about/deal with 1st world problems. I have already done my share of shivering when I lived in a 1953 bread truck in Brooklyn through all the seasons (ALL of them), but it was dead easy to find a warm (hot even) spot somewhere to sit for a while.  I learned that, for delicate, bloodless me, mid to low forties was bearable, but just barely. I knew I wouldn't die in that sort of weather, but it was not very comfortabl

Three Kings Day remains an important holiday for the people of Mexico. In addition to the gift-giving aspect of the day there is also a culinary treat that is specific to the holiday. Known as 'Rosca de Reyes' (King's Cake), this holiday dessert offers much in the way of symbolism. Shaped in the round to signify a king's crown, this sweet bread holds a special surprise. Baked inside is a small plastic figurine representing the baby Jesus. Whoever finds this token is obligated to host an upcoming party for the occasion of 'Dia de la Candelaria'  (Candlemas Day) which occurs each year on February 2nd. T he effigy of the baby Jesus, hidden inside the cake, represents another aspect of the holiday. The reason Jesus is 'hidden' inside the bread is to symbolize how in life, the Christ child's birth location also needed to remain secret, in order that his life be spar ed. (taken from mexonline.com/history-lostresreyes.htm)  January 6th 2013. Some t

These were my Facebook comments from the eve of 112th December 2012 -  I hear a noisy procession on the street- drums and singing; cheering voices and fire works; they are celebrating The Great Lady of Mexico- La Virgen de Guadalupe. ~~ Wow.. we just ran outside into the night to see what the noise looked like. There were were natives with faces painted and feathers in their hair shaking their decorated sticks into the air.. we tried to get shots of it all but was having terrible luck with the camera! And these were a few of the shots The Human took that night. Naturally, they are in black and white. What I didn't mention in the posts was that there was at least one devil character in the back of a pick up truck. He was responsible for launching the cohetes in to the night sky while the ones dressed as natives drummed danced hooted and hollered; the more pious carried their saintly imagery and sang church songs. This was like Halloween with a more cohesive theme!

El Roco looking the way I still kinda feel.  Yesterday was a little horrific for my delicate temperament. I almost burned the house down! I figure it was high time to prove I had survived Las Posadas and Nuevo Ano with the cousins, a pig roast, el pavo cocido durante seis horas, bacalao, alpiste, epazote, posole, apple strudel and being surrounded by lengthy garlands of tripe (oh, I DO have an imagination!)--  I had survived all that and was able to get back to work! So I started in on this and that in cyberspace, feeling like I could slip back into things with gusto. More time passed than I knew and I remember that I wanted to make some tea. Then it hit me, I had some water on to boil! I went to the kitchen to find toxic smoke and fire on the counter where there should have been just a kettle belching steam. Letting the magic of adrenaline do it's thing, I speedily put out the flames, unplugged what was left of the kettle and opened up as many door and windows as I could. I