Merry Christmas From Todos Santos

Lying in bed in the early morning hours I heard music from several houses over drifting through the open window. It was punctuated occasionally by an inebriated voice wailing in tandem. It wasn’t so loud as to be annoying, but I was glad that we didn’t live any closer. As the clock struck 3, right on cue, a gallo (rooster) joined the vocalist, tentatively at first, then robustly as he began to warm up to his daily chore. It actually seemed to trigger some distant memory within the singer (of sleep maybe?) and finally the music died at 4:30 a.m. It was the Saturday before Christmas and everyone was now officially off work and school for the next 2 weeks. I thought I had noticed a very festive air on all the faces the day before as I went about town. There were parties galore all through the day and night – and even, evidently, into the predawn hours.

The weather station had called for rain, high winds and cold weather and throughout the day a smattering of droplets had fallen. It was just enough to make the accumulated dust on the cars become really obvious, but certainly not enough to make the Friday night diners at the outdoor pizza restaurant (Los Mangos Pizzeria) go sit under the eaves of the porch. Well, not most of us anyway. The fact that we had put on long pants and a jacket to dine al fresco could have signaled a cooling trend, I will admit. Most days the windows still stay wide open and shorts with tee shirts are the average daily uniform of the majority of the populace.

Christmas is very festive here in Todos Santos, as it is in many parts of the world, but it feels more intimate. I always thought that a posada was a tradition here in Mexico (it being a Christmas walk through town with lighted candles to honor the famous search for shelter in Bethlehem) however in looking for such a procession I had come up woefully short. A longtime resident told me that nowadays posada means ‘party’ for the most part. And there are lots and lots of those around each evening. Many businesses have had posadas for their trabajadores and customers alike. Some welcome the whole town. The posada was on my definite list of things-I-want-to-experience-here so I was very sorry to learn, too late, that there was a traditional  posada last night. Tonight one of the local expat hangouts will be hosting another one. This I will not miss, even if it most likely will be different than ‘traditional’. But they said to bring a candle, dress warmly and be ready to sing carols and indulge in special treats, so major de nada!

Noches Beunas, or poinsettias as they are called in the US, are offered at a few nurseries, though they don’t seem to be as much a staple here, more a treat than must-have. Houses adorned with lights are more low key with no attempts to out-do one another. Roadside stalls selling all kinds of things have sprung up, from fruits and vegetables to handmade gifts. It is definitely Christmas, though without the glitz and hype.

Last weekend there was live music at La Esquina, our favorite coffee house. Pura Vida played a mixture of Reggae, Latin, Salsa and exceptional dance music. We had 3 young surfing buddies of Robert’s stop by unexpectedly (our 1^st guests at the house!) so they joined us, along with many neighbors, friends and a good portion of the town it seemed, to get our boogie down. No one waited to hit the dance floor. From the 1^st song it was packed, from age 80 to the single digits. Even some dogs joined the throng. I love watching people dance, but even more I love to do it. Each person letting him/herself express in whatever way feels good, how wonderful! Yes, there are those who definitely groove to the beat on a more synchronistic level, but still everyone was swaying, moving, enjoying. And after all, that is the whole purpose, utter pleasure.

Everyone seems to be celebrating in one way or another. The other day we walked to the beach and watched a whale, just 200 yards off shore, as it breached and spy hopped over and over in what seemed to be absolute delight. It made it almost impossible to watch the gorgeous sunset that was happening simultaneously.



copyright Page Hodel
 

Not having our longtime friends and family around us right now we are forced out of our old routines. We’re meeting new friends and making new traditions. We’ll be hosting the 1^st dinner party at our new house on Christmas day with some of our neighbors. Nothing traditional on the menu, except the tamales that Angelica is bringing. And some champagne perhaps…..

I want to wish everyone a beautiful holiday season, no matter how you enjoy it, or what you call it. This time of year is so precious, with all the merriment, the winter solstice, religious and non-religious celebrations alike. Let us open our hearts and accept the wonderful diversity of each one! Let us tenderly embrace our own choices while honoring those of others. And above all let us remember that we are ALL of the same family – the Human Race, the Universe and beyond.

Much love to you and yours~

10,000 Angels, Once Again

 

A couple of years ago during a particularly difficult period the Universe told me that 10,000 angels were surrounding me in support. And they’re still here. I swear it. We just returned from a short trip up to Los Estados Unidos and all along the way angels appeared exactly when most needed. It was a shining example of people’s kindness and added a sense of wonderment to my soul that makes me shake my head in utter amazement.

It began a week ago – Dec 5^th to be exact. We had reservations to fly to San Diego. So after packing all the cold weather clothes we could find and leaving a gate key with a new friend who offered to check on the place every day, we loaded the trusty little Toyota truck and began the hour journey to the La Paz airport. Something in the back of my head said to allow extra time to get there and I heeded that voice – thank goodness!

Not far from Todos Santos the truck began to sputter and miss. ‘Bad gas?’ we thought and then just as we entered the outskirts of La Paz, at a major intersection, the truck died, just died; no possibility of it turning over. The policeman who was directing traffic gathered some trabajadores (workers) and they helped push us to the side of the road. For the first time ever, Robert looked at me and blankly said, ‘I have no idea what to do.’ Here we were in a city we don’t really know and trying to catch a flight. My stomach lurched and inside I called for help. ‘Ok, if ever there was a time we need it, Angels, it’s now!’

Little by little men started to stop by our truck to see if they could assist us, each one shaking or tapping an engine part – all mystified. It was obvious that we needed a tow and a place to leave the truck, but where? And how? Parked in front of us was a big boom truck whose driver suddenly appeared so Robert asked him for a tow. The policeman suggested that we might be able to park at the police station around the corner, if the comendante said it was ok. Thankfully the truck driver had a tow rope so while the trabajadores stopped all traffic on the busy highway, and the policeman directed us, our tow angel crossed all 4 lanes in a U turn, then reversed his direction to get us the remaining 8 blocks to the police station.

Noticing a couple of taxis across the street I fetched one while the truck driver went into the station to explain our predicament to the comendante. Unfortunately he was nowhere to be found and no one else dared to give us permission. By this point the taxi driver had joined us and as none of us was exactly sure how to proceed I called once again for some help. Right then a female police officer approached us and seeing our plight (and the angst on our faces) told us that if we didn’t mind parking out further in the dirt lot and understood that they could not be responsible for the safety of our vehicle, it’d probably be ok to park there. What a relief! We looked around at this point to tip and thank the truck driver, but he and his massive rig had disappeared….

Victor Sanchez’s taxi is a Ford Gran Marquis, of which he is very proud ‘muy lujos!’ (very luxurious).  An older gentleman with an infectious smile and graceful demeanor, he told us that even though the airport was very far he would get us there on time. The twisting turning route he took through the city was one that only a local could know.  We pulled up to the curb with more than enough time to spare and he handed us his card saying to be sure and call him when we returned so that he could pick us up and help us get the Toyota fixed. He also promised to check on it every day as it now resided close to his taxi stand.  Taking his hand in mine I told him, ‘Usted es mi angel!’ (You are my angel!) He melted. And with that we walked into the airport shaken but with plenty of time to calm down and enjoy a coffee.

It was dark by the time we arrived at the garage where our Honda is parked. We were so happy to be there! We threw our bags into the trunk and jumped in ready to roll.

Dead battery…..

Even though it had been plugged into a maintainer, it was dead dead dead so Robert went searching the neighborhood for a jump. An unknown neighbor offered and soon we took off to drive and charge it before we went on errands. However, later, upon exiting Trader Joes it wouldn’t start. Two guys jump out of their vehicle and help push start it. More angels! We drove for 20 miles to really charge it before we ended up at ‘home’. Exhausted and cold, we settled into our new digs to get a good night’s sleep.

The next morning the batter was dead again, but since our mechanic’s shop was located very close by he came to jump us and fix it all up. We had no choice but to slow down and relax that morning.

While we had a wonderful time in SD and we got to see so many friends and family, everything was overlaid with a concern for the truck parked in a lot somewhere in La Paz. We were not even quite sure we knew exactly where it was. A couple of wonderful mechanics discussed the whole breakdown with Robert and they both were pretty sure that it was an alternator issue, so Robert bought one and packed it in his suitcase. Please angels, let the truck be there when we return, with all parts still attached and radio too!

We called Victor before flying out from Tijuana. Of course he remembered; we could expect him to be there. As we exited the La Paz airport we searched for Victor with his prized Gran Marquis, to no avail, so we settled in to wait – maybe traffic had held him up. Then out of a line of cars we hear his voice, ‘Lupita, Roberto, aqui!’ He sprinted up to us wearing shorts, sandals and a baseball cap- not what one expects of a Mexican gentleman. He pointed to a little old sedan that he had borrowed from his daughter – this was our chariot. Legally he cannot pick anyone up from the airport – only those with a special license can do that, so he came incognito. He had gone stealth; both driving and looking like a tourist.

First he drove us to his home to both introduce us to his wife and to change vehicles. (‘Mi casa es su casa’ he declared.) He had worked out a plan of attack. Unhooking the battery from his daughter’s car he put it in the trunk of his taxi. This was to be installed in the Toyota, just to get it to the mechanic who could then install the new alternator. With that we drove off to retrieve the truck.

It was completely intact, even the police were mildly surprised.

Installing the battery was more like a game of musical chairs than mechanical science. His daughter’s battery didn’t fit in our truck because the terminals were on the wrong side, so Victor removed his taxi battery and installed it in the truck. He then installed our dead battery in his taxi and when Robert questioned how he would then start the taxi, he winked and told Robert to get in the car and turn the ignition. Laying his daughter’s battery on its side and holding its terminals to the truck battery terminals, it jumped them and roared to life. This way he explained our truck battery would be charging in his taxi while we drove across town to Martin the mechanic. We crossed town through traffic, over bumpy dirt roads ending up back in his barrio where Martin and his son immediately began to install the new alternator and restore all the correct batteries to their rightful vehicles.

Meanwhile, since Victor had taken his daughter’s car for the day we had to go pick her up from work and take her home. Thanking her for her part in all this, we then returned to find that our truck was finished. We could be on our way.

Standing in front of the truck I mentioned to Victor that many angels had come through for us. He made light of it, but just then I looked down and on the ground and right at my feet, in the dirt, was a little angel charm. I bent over and pocketed the little gem, knowing that it was meant just for me.

So little was asked for in return for such huge services, we would hear nothing of it and gave generously even though no amount could possibly express our gratitude. We didn’t expect to be able to drive home to Todos Santos that same day. Surely we would have to spend the night in La Paz, we thought, and then find a mechanic, and heaven knows what else, but no. We made it home just as the sun was sending its last little slivers of light into the darkening sky.

With no food in the house we decided to stop at a local restaurant and get some dinner. Purchasing a beer for Robert and a margarita for me, the cashier gave us each a second one on the house, because we looked like we could use it she said, and ‘because you’re nice’.

So we are home and we’re all the richer for it! What an adventure! What a multitude of gifts! And we now have ‘family’ in La Paz. I know people all the world over are good and kind.

And 10,000 angels? Well, there just might be more.