A New Diversion

I have a new hobby. My old Ma used to say that I need another hobby like I need another hole in my head but nevertheless I have a new self inflicted pastime. By the way, in Spanish a hobby or a pastime is called a "pasatiempo" (pah-sah-TIEM-poh). Ever since I was a little kid I have admired people who could draw. I have always been frustrated by my inability to draw anything other than stick people or block houses like we used to do in kindergarten with a window, a door, a peaked roof, and a chimney. In a half century I had progressed no farther than that so I decided that it was time to learn something new. Some people have a problem speaking. They get tongue tied. I don't have that problem. I have a problem drawing. I get "finger tied". I discovered that there are a lot of people like me and also that there is something that we can all do about it. Some folks have talent for drawing and good hand to eye coordination and they can't understand why other people just can't pick up a pen or pencil and draw like they can. Those of us who have no talent or natural ability must dig down and learn the things that we must do to at least "fake it".

I discovered that one can reproduce an image with simple materials by two different methods. One method is called "art" and the other is called "drafting". It is possible for just about everyone to learn a little plane geometry and some of the mechanical drawing techniques of the draftsman. One can then add some color and call it "art" even though it lacks the magic touch of a true artist. I have found that there is a lot of satisfaction in this, especially when one realizes that they are doing something that they never thought they could do. There some are other benefits besides self aggrandizing as well. For one thing drawing or "sketching" is very challenging but at the same time very relaxing. In addition, you don't need any special material to start out with and you don't need any classes although in the beginning that might help. There are plenty of instructional books available and there are a number of free tutorials and other information available on the Internet. One of the best reasons that I have found for sketching, however, is that it is unobtrusive. Instead of running around poking a camera at everything and everybody I can sit in one spot and take my time to capture an image or more importantly, capture the things that impressed me most about an image. Later on, when I go back to look at the image the whole memory of sketching it comes back to me and I remember the day and the circumstances and all of the little details that went in to making it. With photography, on the other hand, I have so many old photographs that I look at now and say to myself "Where did I take this shot and who are these people?" or "Why did I waste my time taking a picture of that old thing?"

On Saturday I went to the park to sit in the sun and I brought my sketchbook along. I drew the sketch that you see below in pencil and then when I went home I inked it in and added water colors. The sketch represents the jogging track at our local park, the Irapuato Parque Convivencia Familiar (DIF) where it runs alongside the volleyball courts. I chose the scene because of the challenges that it presented. For one thing there were a bunch of lines that all came together at one point at the base of the IMSS hospital building in the background. There were also shadows to deal with and the chain link fence that surrounds the ball court. I made some mistakes with this drawing but that is how I learn and each drawing appears to be a little better than the last. I have a confession to make though. In real life there were people in this scene but I can't do people very well yet so I left them out. That is one of the benefits of drawing. You can leave out or put in anything you want. In fact, deciding what to leave in or leave out is a big part of sketching and it is fun. If the scene that you are drawing has trash in it or graffiti you can leave it out if you want to and if there is something ugly that is ruining the scene you can give a "makeover". You can cut the grass, you can make the flowers bloom and hey...you can even make your fat friends look skinny. I'm sure they won't mind.

I have discovered some delightful blogs that have given me a lot of sketching inspiration. They are collective blogs where sketch artists and illustrators from all over the world send in their sketches for others to look at and comment on and in my case, to marvel at. The subjects of the sketches are are anything and everything. There is something for everybody. Click on this link "Urban Sketchers" to take you to the first blog. This is my favorite. There are two blogs that are connected with this blog and are offshoots of it called "Urban Sketchers Spain" and "Urban Sketchers Argentina" and I follow these also. Another favorite sketching blog is called "Sketching in Nature" and it is dedicated to people who like to draw flora and fauna. I am amazed at how popular this "sketching" thing is becoming. Who knows, it just may be the new "blogging". I encourage anyone who always wished that they could draw but never seemed to get anywhere to take another look at it. If there is hope for me then there is certainly hope for you too. Let's get some action going here!

(Click on picture to enlarge)

Don't blame the dead!

I just read that the Olympic officials are blaming the death of Olympic athlete Nodar Kumaritashvili from the country of Georgia on "human error". Why do the "officials" of anything always seem to blame the dead? Whenever there is a plane crash where everyone dies you can almost bet that even before a proper investigation is even launched the "officials" will blame the crash on "human error". In the case of this recent Olympic tragedy involving the event known as the "luge" you can clearly see that the luge track runs right alongside a row of steel columns that in reality leave no room for even the slightest human miscalculation or a defect in the surface of the ice or in the sled itself. In addition to that there is something wrong with the physics involved in the design of this track for there have been many serious crashes. Some of the curves are no doubt beyond the physical limits of safe sledding. It looks pretty obvious to me that the blame lies with those same Olympic officials who approved the substandard design of the luge track. This is a sad day for the people of Canada, the people of Georgia, the family and friends of the athlete, and sports fans everywhere. May the Lord have mercy on the soul of of Nodar Kumaritashvili and, may the Lord forgive the Olympic officials who are responsible for what happened if they would only own up to it. Nodar Kumaritashvili is a hero on my list of heroes and a true athlete through and through. May he rest in peace.

The House of Padre Miguel Hidalgo

One of my favorite activities is to photograph old buildings and street scenes and then compare my recent photos with photos that I find in old books or magazines to see how things have changed. Because of the fact that this year we celebrate the bicentennial of Mexico's fight for independence from Spain, I thought it would be interesting to show you some comparison photographs. The subject of the photos is the house where Don Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla (Padre Hidalgo) lived when he gave the shout called "El Grito de Indpendencia" in the early morning hours of September 16th, 1810. The house was constructed in 1779 by a man named D. José Salvador Fajardo and it was the parish house when Miguel Hidalgo moved to the town of Dolores in 1803 to become the parish priest. He moved to Dolores from a town not too far away called San Felipe Torres Mochas where they also still preserve the house that he lived in. Both former houses of Padre Hidalgo are really worth a visit.

After Padre Hidalgo was captured and executed the house in Dolores was confiscated by Spanish authorities and used for various purposes until Mexico finally won the war and gained independence in 1821. The house then reverted to the control of the Catholic Church. In 1859 it fell under Benito Juárez's reform laws regarding the separation of church and state and in particular under a law called the "Law of Nationalization of Church Property". In June of 1863 President Juárez passed through Dolores on his way to San Luis Potosí and declared the house a national monument. From that time on it was called the "Casa de Hidalgo". Just a year later the new Emperor Maximilian passed through Dolores and on the 15th of September, 1864 he celebrated "El Grito" (The Shout) with a ceremony during which he gave a speech from one of the windows of the house. That was the last leader of the country to do so until president Lázaro Cárdenas celebrated "El Grito" on September 15, 1940 in Dolores. He initiated a tradition whereby each succeeding Mexican president, during the fifth year of his six year term in office. celebrates "El Grito" in the courtyard of the church called "Nuestra Señora de los Dolores". The "Casa de Hidalgo" was made into a museum in 1946.

The first photograph below was taken by a wonderful man named Harry A. Franck in 1916 and was taken from his book, "Tramping Through Mexico, Guatemala and Honduras — Being the Random Notes of an Incurable Vagabond". Harry Franck was a world traveler and a graduate of the University of Michigan where he majored in languages. He wrote over thirty books about his travels. If you would really like to know what life was like in Mexico about one hundred years ago I suggest that you read this book. You can find it at a used book dealer or on e-Bay or you can download it for free from Project Gutenberg.

The second photo was taken by me in 2004 while standing in the same spot that Harry did eighty-eight years earlier with a camera lens of a slightly different focal length. One of the things that you will notice is that the building appears to have been better cared for in 1916 that it was in 2004. It had been restored in 1968 in time for the Mexico Olympics but I don't think much had been done after that. I haven't gone back to see it in a few years and I plan to do so very soon to see what they have done to prepare it for the Bicentennial. I am guessing that it will probably look very nice. In Harry's photo you will see a corner piece at the top of the building that is not there in my photo. I believe that corner piece was put there by order of Maximilian and not removed until a few years after Harry took his photo. I have forgotten the details about this so if anyone knows them please remind me. The third thing of note is the big tree that has grown in the courtyard behind the building since Harry's visit. I never met Harry Franck. He died in 1962. However, he is a role model for me and his influence on me is probably one of the reasons why I write this blog. May he rest in peace.

Something fishy...

It has been a heck of a week, my friends. A week ago Friday evening I came down with a bad case of the flu. For three days I stayed mostly in bed in the fetal position waiting patiently for the Lord to take me. Every bone in my body ached and my skin felt like permanent goose bumps,"la carne de gallina" or "la piel de gallina" in Spanish (the flesh or the skin of a chicken). My head hurt like it was being squeezed in a vice and I thought my brains were going to squirt out. On top of all that, what little sleep I had was plagued by nightmares. I had some very strange visions and one vision reoccurred several times, and in fact so often that I was able to make some notes about it as soon as I woke up in a little notebook that I keep at the side of my bed for just that purpose. You have to catch them right away before they fade. Based upon my notes and what I vaguely remember I made the sketch below. I still have some unanswered questions:

1.) What's with the fish? Does this mean that I had the "fish" flu?

2.) Does it mean that I should eat more fish or less fish?

3.) Does it mean that I smell like a fish? More than likely after three days with no shower.

4.) Who is the woman (?) and why the bow tie?

Anyway, I hope all of that is now "agua pasada" as we in Spanish or as we say in English, "water gone under the bridge". Thank God that I'm still alive and kicking.

Flea, Fly, Flu

Oh, me, oh my, oh moo.
I have come down with the flu.
Whatever will I do?
Forget about the swine flu.
Methinks I have the elephant variety
So much for prayers and piety.
Perhaps I'm going to diety.

Sorry, I couldn't think of anything that rhymes with piety to finish it off. My apologies to Ogden Nash. Ohhhh, my head hurts :(

The Stelae of Miguel Hidalgo

Recently my friend Benjamín Arredondo ("El Bable") asked me to locate the two "Cabezas de Águila" in Irapuato because he is preparing a blog on Mexico's Bicentenario which he will publish very soon. The cabezas de águila (eagles' heads) that he was referring to are markers called "estelas" in Spanish from the Latin "stelae" meaning "marker". Stelae are upright stone slabs or columns that mark roads or boundaries. In this case they mark the route of Padre Miguel Hidalgo, the Father of Mexican Independence from where the fight for Mexican Independence began in Dolores Hidalgo on September 16, 1810, to the place where Padre Hidalgo was executed in front of a Spanish firing squad in Chihuahua, Chihuahua on July 30, 1811. The estelas are made from a column of brick or stone and are topped by the sculpture of an eagle's head. The eagle has a banner streaming from his beak declaring "Libertad".

In the year 1960 the president of Mexico, Adolfo López Mateos, invited the populace to suggest an appropriate manner to mark the route of Padre Hidalgo in celebration of 150 years of Mexican independence from Spain. As a result, the estelas were adopted and the eagles heads were sculpted by Tomás y José Chávez Morado at the School of Fine Arts of the National Institute of Fine Arts in Mexico City. Originally there were 260 of these estelas made and they were placed along the route in ten states. In addition to being topped by the head of an eagle the estelas are marked with a plaque that says "Ruta de Hidalgo 1810 -1811". Most of the estelas are still in place but some have been moved and some have been vandalized. Many have been lovingly cared for but others have been mostly ignored. Irapuato is honored to have two estelas because Padre Hidlago came here twice. Since I am into sketching right now I made a sketch of one of the Irapuato estelas which you can see below. This estela can be found on Avenue Guerrero near the Centro de Salud. I also included a map that shows the locations of both Irapuato estelas. It is interesting to note that when the estelas were placed they were at the very edge of town at the northern and southern terminus. The city has grown tremendously since then and so now they are more or less rather centrally located.

Note: I sign my sketches "BOGI" which is what my wife Gina calls me. She pronounces it BOH-jee. It stands for "Bob & Gina". (Click on images to enlarge)

Thirty something...

If you're smart you will never ask a woman's age after her 30th birthday. In Mexico it is no different than in the United States. In fact, in Mexico it is considered quite rude. You can try asking a woman's age but more than likely you are not going to get a straight answer especially since people generally don't like to tell lies directly. To ask a woman her age straight out you can say, "¿Cuántos años tienes?" if you know her well, and if you don't you can say something like, "Disculpe señora. ¿Cuántos años tiene usted? ".

Here are some of the answers that you might get and the good thing for you ladies is that if you learn these answers in Spanish you can use them too:

Treinta y tantos. ( TRAIN-tah ee TAHN-tohs)
Thirty something.

Ta y ocho (ta-ee-oh-choh) When spoken quickly it sounds like tai-OH-choh.
After the number twenty all the rest of the 10's in Spanish end in the letters "ta" as in treinta, cuarenta, cincuenta, sesenta, setenta, ochenta, y noventa. In effect what you are saying with "ta y ocho" is that your age could be 38, or 48, or 58 etcetera, all the way up to 98.

Treinta y meses. ( TRAIN-tah ee MESS-ess)
Thirty and months.

Apenas trienta y cinco. (ah-PEY-nahs TRAIN-tah ee SEENK-oh)
Barely thirty five.

Lo que represento.
The age that I look.

And...last but not least if you really want to sound indignant you can use the following put-down:

Los años son para vivirse y no para contarse.
The years are for living and not for counting.

¡ Buena suerte !
Good luck!

Street Food Smarts

I have a good friend named Benjamín Arredondo who lives in Salamanca, Guanajuato which is just a little way down the the Panamerica Highway from Irapuato...about ten miles in fact. "Benja", as I call him for short, has two blogs at present. One of them is called "El Señor del Hospital" after a famous shrine in Salamanca and it is dedicated to the history of that city. The other blog is called "El Bable". At first glance you might think that the term "El Bable" refers to some language or to the "Tower of Babel" but it actually refers to the rancho where his father was born not far from Salamanca. The name of the rancho is "Rancho el Baule" but over the years the local people have corrupted the word "baule" into the word "bable". A "baul" or a "baule" is an old fashioned steamer type trunk with a rounded lid. There was a big stone building on the Rancho (now in ruins) that resembled a "baule". Benjamín (Ben-hah-MEEN) uses this blog to document his explorations to every part of the State of Guanajuato as well as other places in Mexico. He is a dedicated historian and he is capturing things that are quickly fading away. I am eagerly anticipating a third blog of his that will be dedicated to history relating to Mexico's Bicentennial. For all of you who can read Spanish or for all of you who would like to practice reading Spanish you could do no wrong by following the blogs of Benjamín. He speaks and writes English very fluently as well so if you have any questions you can write to him in either English or Spanish.

When Benja travels he travels lightly and most of the time by bus. He carries his things in a knapsack or "mochila" (moh-CHEE-luh) and mostly he eats local food from street vendors to learn about the local foods and also to "chat up" the locals. With all of this eating of street foods you might think that he either has to have a cast iron stomach or else that he has been very lucky to avoid getting sick. Neither one are the case. He is simply very careful. Recently he wrote some tips for eating safely on the street and with his permission I will repeat them here, first in Spanish, just as he wrote them, and then in English.

Y… ¿a qué vamos al mercado además de ver y oler lo que allí hay? Claro es: a comer. Luego de años y años de andar con mochila al hombro se forma una especie de habilidad para saber cual es el bueno. Cuál es el lugar en donde de seguro la comida estará de primera. Normalmente no falla, por si no sabes la técnica, es fácil. ¿Esta limpio y ordenado el lugar? ¿La cocinera es amable y te invita a pasar? ¿Tiene las uñas recortadas y otra persona es la que cobra? ¿Está vestida normalmente y nada de folclorismos? Algo importantísimo (para mí) ¿venden cerveza? (ahora con lo del virus debemos incluir una pregunta en la evaluación ¿hay lavamanos o tienen alcohol en gel?) si las respuestas fueron todas sí: has llegado al lugar correcto.

And...why do we go to the market other than to see and to smell what they have there? It is to eat, of course. Over years and years of traveling with a knapsack over the shoulder one gets a certain knack for knowing what is good. Which place serves the safest food will be the first priority. Normally it never fails and in case you don't know the technique it is easy. Is the place clean and orderly? Is the cook friendly and does she invite you to stop by? Does she have trimmed fingernails and is there another person who handles the money? Is she dressed in normal clothing and not in folklore type clothing? Something of extreme importance (for me)...do they sell beer? (Now with the virus we must include a question in the evaluation...Is there a wash basin or do they have alcohol gel sanitizer? If all of the answers were yes then you have arrived at the right place.

Looking back over my own experience I have had the runs on several occasions but each time it was because I did something stupid. By the way, to say "I have the runs" you can say, "Tengo chorrillo" (TANG-oh choh-REE-yoh). The word "chorrillo" actually means "a steady trickle". Be careful that you don't say "chorrillos" with an "s" on the end because "Chorrillos" is a famous city in Peru. Gringos tend to take the "s" from "runs" because it is plural and transfer it over to "chorrillo" but that is not correct. Actually, I don't think I have ever gotten sick from from street food from a local, well established vendor. Nobody wants their customers to be sick especially if their customers are also their friends and neighbors. The time that you will get sick is usually the time when you are thinking that something doesn't look right but your "friend" says something like "Come over here, you gotta try some of this stuff" and goads you into it. Most generally this will happen at a fair of some kind. Be careful. After all it is your body. If your friend wants to sit on the stool with stomach cramps all night then let him. You just follow Benjamín's advice and you will be okay.

One more thing. If you would like to wash your hands before you eat (and you should) most good street food vendors will have a pail of clean water for that purpose. Don't do the typical gringo thing, however, and plunge your hands into the pail of water and contaminate it for everyone else. Believe me that you will look inconsiderate and stupid. Just take a plastic cup or spoon and splash a little out of the pail onto your other hand and then rub your hands together. You are really just trying to get the dust and grime off of them and not take a bath. A follow up with some sanitation gel will do you just fine. If there is no plastic utensil available it is permissible to use just the tips of your fingers to splash some water out of the pail. Oh, and whether or not you follow Benja's advice, you better tuck some toilet paper into your pocket or purse before you leave home. You never know when you might need it!

Why do I blog?

There are many good reasons for blogging,
And one just entered my head.
If a person can't blog while they're living,
Then how the heck can they blog when they're dead?

The Common Denominator

I am very fond of humor and I enjoy a play on words in any language. When I was a kid we used to tell riddles and recite little poems that twisted words about to make them humorous. One of the earliest that I can remember goes:

That's life!
What's life?
A magazine.
How much?
Five cents.
Too much!
That's Life!

My father was also fond of words. He used to recite little nonsense poems that sounded like he was talking in another language and you had to guess the meaning. One of my favorites went:

Saville, derdaygo,
Tousen buses inarow.
Nojo, demis trucks,
Summit cowsin, summit ducks.

Say Billy, there they go,
A thousand buses in a row.
No, Joe, those are trucks,
Some with cows and some with ducks.

Mexican people do the same kind of word play in Spanish and it is very funny in Spanish but when you try to translate it into English you end up with a lot of explaining to do, not only because of language differences but also differences in culture. Here is an example that I received from our shop superintendent, "El Machete", the other day. There is quite a play on words here. Take note that the word "araña" means "spider" as a noun but the verb "arañar" means to scratch or claw something. Also note that "gatillo" means "trigger" but it also means "little cat" (kitten). The word "tuerto" means "blind in one eye" and I discovered that there is no one word for that in English even though there is one word for it in Latin, "luscus", for "blind in one eye".

¿Por qué un tuerto no va a la guerra?
Porque un tuerto es un ser.
Sears es la marca de una pistola.
La pistola tiene un gatillo.
El gatillo araña.
La araña teje un hilo.
El hilo se cose con una aguja.
La aguja tiene un ojo.
El que tiene un ojo es un tuerto.
Un tuerto no va a la guerra.

Why won't a "one eye" go to war?
Because a "one eye" is a being.
Sears is the brand of a pistol.
The pistol has a trigger.
The kitten reaches out its claws.
The spider spins a thread.
A thread is sown with a needle.
The needle has an eye.
One who has one eye is a "one eye".
A "one eye" doesn't go to war.

Now, I know what you are thinking. It may sound cute in Spanish but it falls very flat in English. That's the whole point. Once your ability in Spanish reaches the level where you and "get" the jokes you will really start to appreciate the humor of the Mexican people. Run this one by one of your Mexican friends or neighbors and see what they think. I'll bet that you at least get a grin if not a chuckle.

Here is another one that I call "The Common Denominator". It is a little "off-color" but more in the way of being scatological than being prurient. I guess you would call it a Mexican limerick.

En este mundo de matraca,
De cagar nadie escapa,
Caga el cura,
Y caga el papa,
Y hasta la mujer más guapa,
Deja su montón de caca.

In his world of nuisance and bother,
Nobody escapes the need to defecate.
The priest defecates,
And the Pope defecates,
And even the most gorgeous woman
Leaves her pile of "crap".