Author: Mercedes

 

A TRIP BACK IN TIME INTO THE MEXICO OF MY CHILDHOOD OR BETTER SAID, TANA IN MADAGASCAR

 

Antananarivo or Tana for the family, is the capital of Madagascar, a great island in all senses, by its size and its unique features, in its fauna and flora which are unique, since for the last 165 million years, give or take a couple of them,

Sculpture – Tin transport, Tana

it has been separated from Terra Firma, from Africa from which it got separated, and so animals and plants have had time to evolve and adapt to their environment without “contamination”. It is also known as the Red Island, since most of the soil is red, most surely due to its mineral content. It also has many points of interest, mostly in the nature of things, such as the Tsingy, some kind of stone forest, also beautiful beaches and of course the lemurs of many colours, sizes and styles. All these made of Mada a paradise on earth but where the apples are expensive, the clothing for Adams and Eves is also expensive and even the food can be pricy. It is or was when I visited one of the poorest counties on the planet, but the people are surely even now some of the kindest of the planet.

I travelled to Mada in a group, as on my own it was impossible, among other things and not the least was the cost. In a group it was not cheap but alone, having to hire a car, driver-guide, paying for both of us on my own, would have been too much. However, before touring Mada I had three days in Tana on my own, in order to discover the capital. Upon arrival, the first thing is you are warned is to be very careful, do not trust even your shadow, do not speak with strangers, do not go out at night and even during daytime only to heavily populated areas, if you have a camera, of course, hide it, which in itself is not very practical if you want to take photos, and in short you are told Tana is a paradise for thieves and swindlers, but since this is not the only city in the world with these problems, and since I know at least one or two like that, I was less frightened and as soon as possible got a map of Tana, found my reference points and started walking. My hotel, that looked like an old residence in the middle class area of Mexico City, early XX century, with little twisted corridors, nicely decorated rooms, old or antique furniture, was also located in an area that could have been middle class of Mexico, such as the Colonia Roma, for those of you that know the city. Narrow curbsides, narrow streets and since Tana is in hilly area, you go up and down constantly. Walking almost without a specific aim, the almost being the key word, I arrived to one of the main squares of the city, noisy and full of people, a greatly animated place since it was market day.

 

 

So walking along those little twisted streets in the market area I could see again what I had known in my childhood and youth…. Somewhat long time ago, when I used to go with my father to the old centre of Mexico City to know what had been the colonial era buildings, an area that had become rather derelict and poor and that my father had known during his childhood and youth. He wanted to share it with me, I believe in part so that I realize that not all is fine and dandy in life and that there are many people in the world that lived in poverty or less well off that we did. He taught me that whenever I complained of something really bad, in my opinion, I only had to look downwards to realize that what I consider really bad and unbearable was not so, others, many others were in far worse situation and that I should complain really when the situation was very difficult or insurmountable. Here I could add something I learnt as being Confucius saying in the sense that if you have a problem, do not complain, work to solve it. If your problem can be solved, it is no longer a problem, and if it cannot be solved, it is no longer a problem either, it is a situation, learn to live with it! That is enough or relatively cheap philosophy and back to Tana.

 

 

Tana as I said, reminded me of the old neighbourhoods of Mexico City, old big houses more or less unkept, smells not always roses and lavender, the colours of the clothes and of many wares in the market, vibrant and shinny, but also gray and faded because they had been washed many times or not washed at all, whichever. The stalls of fruits and vegetables, like in most countries where open air markets exists, a symphony of colour that salesmen know how to show to attract customers, shinny metal ware or earthenware just waiting for the cooks that know how to make them yield that great flavour or that give water a unique taste of freshness.

 

I have been an avid stamp collector for many years, mainly from those countries I have visited, as it is a way to keep memories of my visits, and Mada was not to be an exception, so I located the central Post office in my map and there I go. Not easy to find but finally I made I t to the window that sold stamps and asked them to show me those available in order to choose some. There were not many one of them was very pretty but they only had photocopies and not the real printed stamp. However they assured me that if I bought it and used it for a postcard or letter, it would be sent without problem. So I did and the postcard did arrive, rather slow as if it had swam all the way to Europe, but finally made it.

Continuing with my discovery of Tana, map in hand I walked to the top of the hill overlooking the city, where the old imperial palace or Rova is located. When I visited it was falling apart but it certainly must have been magnificent and with great panoramic views. Upon arrival of course the palace was closed, but also of course, there were some kids that for a small fee could get you into the palace and even guide you and explain its history. I paid my small fee and once inside realized it must have been the regular system, as the place was full of tourists, all of them with their young guides and happy for that. I was shown the main rooms, the kitchens, service areas and also the rooms that had been reserved for the king and his immediate family. Once we finished the visit of the Rova, downhill we found the Cathedral, rather new building but also closed, it was near noon, lunchtime.

 

One of the things that had made me visit Mada was its lemurs, so just in case I would not be able to see them in their natural habitat during my travels in Mada, I asked my guides if there was a zoo in Tana and if it had lemurs. The answer was yes to both questions and so we took a taxi, as it was not very close by. Once at the zoo, I realized it was more than that, it was an ethnological and botanical garden also. The first thing I saw were the different styles of housing in the island, depending on the location, altitude and the like, and also the many different types of palm trees in Mada, all kinds big, small, dwarf, full of leaves or sparse, etc. In the lake there were many aquatic plants and basically since the plants and animals of Mada have not been “contaminated” from the outside world, they tend to be unique. By the lake there was a little stall with food, so I invited my guides for lunch, and we had lots of fun. They chose some local and great looking food but me, typical chicken tourist, decided to go on the safe side and chose two small bags of peanuts and a universal soda drink, as the last thing I wanted was to catch a “tourista” two days before starting my trip around Mada. The lunch was great as they told me a lot about their interesting short lives, the school, family etc. Finally we made it to the animals enclosures where you could find from goats to camels, but what I was looking for were the lemurs, and there they were, some 10 different types with ringed tales, or plain ones, long ears or short, with “glasses” or plain faces etc. and if you want to see all the possibilities, the best is to search an encyclopaedia – on line or printed. For me it was great, I had seen them and if later on I saw them in their natural habitat, it would be an advantage. All visitors, locals or foreigners alike were fascinated with the lemurs and later on I learned that the cruises that touch Tana take the tourists to the zoo, as they do not have the time to make them visit the natural habitat, somehow remote.

 

After the zoo I parted company of my guides and the following day joined the group to travel through the Red Island, which was fascinating, incredible landscapes, fauna and flora unique in many instances, poor countryside but extraordinarily kind and friendly people, always willing to help and smiling all the time. The trip was done in 4×4 cars that although practical, were not the best for comfort, they were loaded to the tilt, as we had to take everything with us, from spare tires, tents, kitchen utensils, food and tourists with their suitcases and the like. We visited towns big and small, the Tsiguys which deserve a story on their own, canoe trips, crossing of rivers in skiffs, etc. etc. so when we returned to Tana, we only made it to the airport and that was it for Tana and for Mada, but not for the interest in this country that lacks many material things, but has a great richness in its people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Puebla de los ángeles

During the stay in Mexico, and one of the reasons for having gone there, was a visit to the city of Puebla, about two hours away from Mexico City, to meet the little baby of one of my god children.  I have seven god children, but this baby is the first “grand god child”, although the family connection does not really exists with that name, is the easiest way to explain our relation.  He was born October 14, 2017 and is a sweet, quiet and smily little one. Of course his parents and grandparents, as well as his auntie dot on him and according to his mom, his first fortune cookie read “you shall be the center of attention of many people” and he is indeed.  it is hard to say if he resembles his mom, but he certainly has his dad’s eyes and as he continues growing, we shall find the similarities to all and sundry members of the family.  The visit was a full success, the kid is just super and the city where he was born and lives is very beautiful.

During my stay we visited two new museums, new for me at least, that were extraordinary.  One was the Museo Amparo, in the center of the city, with lots of great exhibits covering the culture of the region and one particularly interesting wall where they illustrate the comparison in a time line of different cultures of the world, so it is possible to see that while in Mexico we were building fantastic pyramids in Europe they were in the Middle Ages, and so on. Many hours would be necessary to study all the comparisons, some of which are hard to believe as in many instances we have been led to believe, wrongly it appears, that the European palaces and cathedrals are examples of a more advance civilisation, while pyramids and temples of the Americas are proof of backwardness.  Nothing could be further away from reality.  The analysis of that very well presented comparative table helps to put each and every culture in its right place, in time and in importance.  Maybe I can share with you some of the elements.

    Museo Amparo – Puebla

The second museum visited during the visit to Puebla was the Museo del Barroco, housed in an extremely modern and well set museum, all but baroque, which helps to enhance the beauty of both eras.  The sections inside cover music, architecture, painting, literature, sculpture, life and death.  The museography is very well and clearly done, the pieces are great and looking at all these in the context of an ultramodern museum is just mind bogging.

 

 

Puebla is famous for the Mole poblano, which has become an example of the typical Mexican cuisine, although Mexican cuisine is so diverse and varied that one single dish does not really represent it.  However, when in Puebla eat poblano, so we had to try mole in many of its forms and colours, pipian which is made of pumpkin seeds, tlacoyos (tortilla based), tamales (corn fower stuffed with different sauces and meats and steamed), camote (sweet potatoes ) and whatever came in front of us.  In Mexico it is not difficult to find something to eat, what is difficult is to choose from among the various delicacies around, such as huitlacoches – corn mushrooms, pumpkin flowers stuffed, fried, cooked, etc, quesadillas (corn tortillas with cheese or any other filling available) and for breakfast what more Mexican than a nice hot frothy chocolate! with sweet bread such as conchas, orejas, puchas, banderillas, campechanas, semitas and many others.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mexican markets are very colourful experiences, it does not matter if it is a food market, clothing, arts and crafts or all of the above together.  It is impossible to miss them, they show their wares with panache and elegance in the color combinations, you cannot miss the pinks, yellows, red or blue, bright green or golden colours of all things, blouses, pots and pans, the unavoidable t-shirts, handbags, dresses etc.  In the food markets the fruits and vegetable stalls besides showing all kinds of fruits and vegetables to more than cover your 5-a-day needs for a year, they are presented so that you would like to try them all.  you want an avocado for today and one for three days from now, just ask the seller, she/he will choose them for you and will be perfect, needless to touch and crush ll fruits and veggies, just let them choose for you.   Among the many fruits on display, the mango always pulls me with a very strong magnetism. Its color, yellow-orange, well mango color is joy and happiness in itself, its flavour, do not even mention it, because there are several varieties, and sizes but the shape and color is almost always the same.  A mango smells heavenly, tastes delicious and leaves you with a feeling of wellbeing that cannot be compared to any other.  The best are the Manila variety, with firm flesh, incredible color and smell and it just melts in your mouth.  Should you decide to make sherbet with its flesh is heavenly pleasure, in a fruit salad, you do not need many other fruits to be happy and you can have  a mango any day, at any time and it will never disappoint you.

The Volcanoes

Between Mexico City and Puebla we find the Popocatepetl also known as Don Goyo and its bride, the Iztaccihuatl or Sleeping Woman. These two volcanoes guard the big City, protect it and also sometimes threaten it, particularly Don Goyo that some days wakes up coughing and spews ashes all over the place.  The threat is there, but it has not really fully woken up for many decades, and the people who live in the surrounding hill for the most part refuse to leave even when told that the eruption is imminent.  The Popo has the typical conical form of most volcanoes, although in one of the last few eruptions, the cone became irregular, like in a diagonal.  However, in the center, if you are courageous enough climb the Popo you will be able to see a lake of melted snow. My father climbed and went down to the lake several times in his youth, even I was introduced to snow on the bottom of the Popo, at that time it was always covered in snow from the middle up but this was over 60 years ago, many moons ago and now when I saw it last the Popo was totally devoid of snow, probably due to the lack of rain, which at that altitude turns into snow, probably again climate warming or any other phenomenon I do not know about.    The legend of these two volcanoes es very romantic, since it is said that he, don Goyo or el Popo is an Aztec warrior that is guarding his beloved lady during her sleep.

Popocatepetl

This morning I received from other of my god children an incredible photo of the Itza just as the sun is coming out, here it is with my thanks to the photographer.

On Saturday I received another great picture, this time from the other side of the volcanoes, sent by my god child, the mother of the baby visited short time ago. With her permission, please enjoy it, the Popo looks more magnificent than usual.

Looking for some photos of the Popo I found quite a few of my father from almost 80 years ago, inside the crater. They might be interesting.

These are photos, on top, of the second crater of the Popo, lower left the main crater with two vents and the lower right is my father, especial attention to his shoes!                              All taken April 8, 1939!

In July 2012, between Irkutsk and Krasnoyarsk I met Antonina. One fine night, after visiting Irkutsk with its churches, walking like crazy and tired, we finally arrived to the train station and when the train arrived, I was among the first to climb in and was taken my place, as I had learned that this must be done as soon as possible and well before the other traveller(s) take too much of the available space. While settling down, the other traveller arrived, full of bags of all sizes and colours, plus her normal suitcase, of course. She was a not very young bottle blond and her clothes were about one or two sizes too small. However she had a kind face and first thing, of course was a “sdrazvoitie” or hello in Russian, to which I answered in my best Russian accent – best and only of course, “sdrazvoitie”. She wanted to continue talking but I had to quickly signal that my Russian was extremely limited, that being an exaggeration, as it is non existent really and other than “hello”, “good bye”, “thank you” and “excuse me, where is the wc”, it does not get much further.

However my very limited knowledge of her language, although obvious, was not a deterrent for Antonina, who continued talking like if I was Pushkin himself, while looking for things in her many bags, pulling out tea bags, a book, her reading glasses, and some other trinkets. Then we had to put away her bags if she was to sit on her side, as otherwise they were occupying all the free sitting space, by the way, my space. Finally we managed and she realized – I believe, that I did not speak Russian and that my silence had been due to lack of understanding, so in audiovisual language without audio, we introduced ourselves, me Antonina, you Mercedes and so we started a very pleasant one night stand. Fortunately my name has always helped me, who ignores the name of the car?? So after the signs for the “steering wheel” and “driving” all the rest is clear. Antonina started a monologue in Russian that I managed to semi-understand and mostly guess and thus I learned she has no companion or husband (could not say if she is a widow or divorced, but I guess that is totally irrelevant), she has two kids, one boy and one girl, three grandchildren, all in Moscow, and for all I understood she lives in Vladivostok. She got on in Irkutsk, and was going strait to Moscow (4 days) with a group of students, trainees or the like, travelling most certainly in second class or similarly uncomfortable accommodation. She indicated that at least one of them is a pain in the lowest part of the neck, and of course that is the one that showed up to talk to her about …. The description of the student being a pain in … was easily understood in the audiovisual without audio just as well as if she had spoken Spanish or English, it seems certain descriptions of human nature are universal!!!

At one point in our “conversation” I understood the word “pectopah” which in Russian means “Restaurant” and that is another one I never miss, I explained to her that my friends would come a bit later and we would go to the restaurant. In the meantime I had to go to the loo and when I returned I found in my place a fantastic dinner with salmon filet, pan-fried with rice, also as entrée some slices of smoked salmon with red caviar – the black caviar cannot be bought in Russian because it is kept for export only, and the production is very limited but the red one, one can have to your harts content, provided of course your purse also is sufficiently content, back to the dinner, bread, orange juice and mineral water. A perfect banquet. I of course has happily pleased and offered to pay for my dinner, receiving a very clear “niet!” from Antonina, and her signing to the fact that I should start before the fish got cold. It was soooo good that even cold it was really tasty, I would not have expected that in the Russian train, but again, I had not been with Antonina before and she was a perfect “open sesame” person for all matters concerning the Russian trains.

 

After the fantastic dinner my friends arrived to pick me up, and since I had already dinned, went on their own to the restaurant but came back shortly after just to let me know that the restaurant was closed for a private party and they would have to have the standard train dinner of hot instant noodles and a cup of tea or coffee and that is that. I guess the private party was the group of Antonina’s students, as they were all Russian train trainees of some kind. Meanwhile Antonina and I kept on “talking” about Russia, the country, the language, the landscape – at the time invisible since it was late at night, and also about Mexico and our music and other matters until I got tired of the audiovisual without audio and decided to be soo tired that Antonina told me to go to sleep and that the following day we could continue our conversation.

So it was and in the morning, after the minimalistic cleaning possible with cold water in the rather small confine of the wc, Antonina also woke up and the non-stop talking machine restarted. Concentration was essential as otherwise it could be considered rude to be there and eating breakfast but not paying attention to her words. Again I offered to pay but my offer was refused, so we kept on chatting about the difficulties of learning a foreign language being Russian for me or English for Antonina. At the end of the chapter we both offered to take classes so that in a year time, when we met again we could really converse “fluently” and communicate more than what we had done. I got an invitation from her to come to the Olympics in Socci, where she was going to be and I even got her address and telephone numbers, so I could keep in touch.

So far, three months later, I have not yet started with my Russian classes and possibly will never do it, but the illusion was nice and Antonina’s smile was good to see.

 

Finally we were getting closer to Krasnoyarsk, where I was alighting from the train and had to put all my things together and close my bags, and of course Antonina took them to the door of the train and then the steward seeing her carrying my stuff, took it from her, saying something like “you are not supposed to carry this”, and helped me to get down the train. My friend/guardian angel also got down and with a big hug and all, we departed, she to continue on the train to Moscow, another 3 days of train and I guess of imparting her blessing to unsuspecting passengers that shared the cabin with her, and me to visit a city that did not have much of interest and even less of charm, but sometimes you get it, sometimes you don’t.

After my encounter with Antonina, every time I saw that logo of the Russian trains, I thought of her, her kindness towards me and her friendship and somehow made the long and sometimes tiring segments of train travel bearable and even interesting. Thanks Antonina, all the best and see you in Socci!

 

TAXI!!!! And the Mosque of Mirrors

 Teheran, April 1973

    This is a rather old story, in a country that has not stopped changing in the last few decades, some would say for the better, others would not agree. However, the story of catching a taxi in Teheran may still be valid.   When I visited Teheran, I was able to speak about ten words of Farsi, which included “how much?”, “too expensive” and “thank you” and “good-bye”, but my every day vocabulary was mostly limited. The family where I was staying, a Farsi family that had lost the father fighting against the Shah and therefore not really on the list of “favourites of the State” was composed of my friend Hushang and his mother and about 6 or 7 brothers and sisters. Their house was ok, although I would say it was modest without being poor. They lived in a two rooms facing a patio, a toilet, a kind of shower and washing room and the kitchen, with little greenery. My friend, the eldest son and thus the head of the family, occupied one of the rooms, and mom and siblings the other.

When I arrived I was given the room of honour and my friend moved with his family. Courtesy and deference were omnipresent, I was always given that first choice in food and although I communicated with Hushang in German, our common language, his siblings either tried a very limited English or sign language. With the mom, it was always through one of the kids, in whichever language was possible. She was a dear lady always smiling and helpful and attentive.

During my stay in Teheran, and before setting up on a trip through the country with Hushang, I wanted to explore Teheran, and of course needed to do so on my own, basically because all the younger members of the family had other occupations and were relatively “useless” in providing me with tourist like explanations. I had my guidebook of the place and so decided to discover Teheran. I managed to get to the centre of town and walked, and walked and walked visiting museums, palaces and markets. The mosques, which mostly were beautiful building from the outside, were not open to non-believers (in Islam), so I was left outside able sometimes to glimpse though a partly open door to their great gardens and huge open spaces. The experience of the markets was if not unique to me, interesting in the kind of wares on sale and of course the possibility almost the compulsion to negotiate prices, like it is customary in my own country. It did not matter if the price looked right or not, it would have been unthinkable to buy it like that, without negotiation, which is an art learned as a kid and perfected with time. I enjoy it very much, even today, although the numbers of places where it can be done are getting very limited and the margin of negotiation is not always very large.

Having spent most of the day sightseeing and walking all over the place, I finally decided it would be nice to get home, to a nice cup of tea and maybe a “conversation” with Hushang and his family. Now, public transport as buses was totally out of the question, since I could not read their destination and could not speak the language enough to ask if they went in the right direction or me. I was only able to give the address of Hushang’s house and it was easy to consider that the only alternative was to take a taxi home. Now, I stood a while on a street corner, trying to figure out the way people were calling taxis, crying the addresses or directions they wanted and when taxis came by, without the notice “taxi”, although quite  obvious in their functions, stopped if they went in the requested direction.   After about quarter of an hour of studying the system, I decided to give it a try, at first timidly and of course without any result, other than being on the sidewalk without transportation. So at one point I saw a car coming and taking my courage I shouted my direction and Yes!!! The taxi stopped and I jumped in the front seat, as I had seen that the back seats get crammed with more people that they would be allowed to carry normally and when I wanted to get out I would not be able to do so in a hurry, as I had seen people do. So the front seat it was and the taxi sped in what I thought was the right direction but …. although we went through several crowded streets and crossing with a lot of potential customers for the ride, no one shouted for the ride and my taxi did not even try to stop and check the potential clients. It became a bit worrying because although I had been given assurances that Teheran was a very safe city, that the crime rate was minimal, that foreigners were in general respected, and all that shebang, I was in a taxi that did not stop to pick up clients, driving in the right direction, yes, but alone, in the front seat of the car, with a taxi-driver that did not speak much, kept looking at me, not scary but and I could not really speak much. Finally I decided it was necessary to try to know where I was standing, so I asked him if he spoke English, and to a timid yes, I asked him why he did not stop to pick up more passengers and then with a big smile, the driver told me he was not really a taxi. Oh! What I had gotten into!!! Jumping out of the car was totally out of the question, charm the driver into being nice to me also, as he HAD been nice to me and had not tried to be even unpleasant or un-nice, apologize was not possible due to my limited knowledge of his language, so the only option left was let him drive me to my house and try to pay for his services.

When we finally arrived home and I was trying to give him some money for the ride, Hushang’s mom came out, she probably was worried about my very long day out, and then she and my taxi-driver chatted and laugh and he explained the misunderstanding and how he had taken me back out of kindness and that was the end of the episode, or so I thought. Later on, when Hushang returned from work and we all were having dinner, mom told them the story and some were laughing, others complaining and all agreed that I should not try to do it again, and decided to give me a card with the address written in Farsi, so I could show it to real taxi-drivers if needed. There were volunteers to come with me in my discovery days, etc. but fortunately in a day or two Hushang and I were starting a week trip into the country, which took us to Shiraz, Isfahan, Persepolis and other beautiful places and being with him, I had to polish my German, but could forget the need of Farsi!!! No more taxis or friendly Iranians.

SHIRAZ and no double room

 

When finally Huschang had his holidays, especially taken to show me his incredible country, we went first to Shiraz, known s the city of flowers and mainly roses, where in the right season, the smell of flowers is almost overbearing. We arrived to a hotel that looked nice and clean, not the 6 stars thing, but Huschang thought it was OK. He requested a double room, with my agreement, since it was more economical and he had already mentioned that he would not let me pay anything during the trip, so if he was being the perfect host, I had to accept the situation. The hotel clerk asked for ID from both of us and I tended my Mexican passport, Huschang had his Iranian ID. When asked if we were married, of course the answer was NO, and then the clerk explained to Huschang that we could not have a double room if not married. My friend explained that the purpose of the exercise was to save money, as he being the perfect host was covering all the bills. No way to get the clerk to accept, but in the negotiation he offered to give us two singles for the price of a double, of curse we both agreed and then he explained to me, through my interpreter Huschang that there was an Iranian law trying to protect the Iranian men, as there had been many foreign women that enticed them to show them the country, travel around, have all expenses paid and then, while the boys were sleeping, the girls would rob them of their money and at that time, this is over 50 years ago, the most current method of payment was cash, so the perfect hosts were robbed and left with the perfect bills and no money to pay for them.

The next day, after breakfast, we left to discover Shiraz, a beautiful old city full of little streets, markets and of course mosques, all over the place. We came to a square, or a round, with a little fountain in the centre, few cars but lots of chariots and donkeys. Huschang told me to wait for him by the fountain, do not reply if someone talked to me and just play dumb – difficult as that might have been then. A while later he returned with a black piece of cloth, later I learned it was called a chador, and although I was wearing a long-sleeved blouse and jeans, totally acceptable outfit for the city, he instructed me to accept wearing the chador, keep my camera hidden and the most difficult part, close my mouth and make no noise whatsoever. So be it, and also I had to walk behind him!!! He took me by the hand and always walking behind him, we entered a mosque that did not look particularly big, important or the like but OH Surprise. Inside the one and only mosque I have ever seen all the walls and ceiling were covered with mirror mosaics, little squares of maybe 1 sq. cm. mosaics make of mirrors, so it was enough to have a few candles for the whole space to glitter and shine like if the sun was inside! It was very difficult not to make some noises of OH or AH in admiration of such work, but technically I had no right to be inside, as a non-Muslim, and also if they found out I was with Huschang, a Muslim who knew the rules, he could pay dearly for this. That was the only time I believe that wearing a chador or burka was a good thing. I could look without being seen, I could linger studying the mosaics and at worst people would thing I was dumb and slow. We stayed a relatively short time inside, do not forget you go in to pray, not to wonder of the marvellous light and reflections and beauty of the place. Finally we walked out and Huschang took off the burka and went to the market to return it to its owner. Thank you again unknown woman for letting me see that beautiful place of worship. It is not difficult to thank god in whichever name you give Him for making humans with such inspiration and ideas. To this date I have never seen any photo or representation of that mosque, which I believe is normal as those are places of worship, but I hope it has not suffered from all the political upheavals in that country.

The rest of the trip was great, Persepolis walking over the same stones as Alexander the Great had done, the magnificence of the place and “if the stones could talk”……   but they cannot, so you will have to read it in some of the history books on paper or on-line.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After Puebla, and since the capital city was still quite cold, we decided to take advantage of family connections and visit Acapulco.  After only four hours drive – previously you could need up to a day or at least six to eight hours, we arrived to the beautiful bay of Acapulco with about 29 degrees Celsius !!!

I believe the bay of Acapulco is well-known to many people all over the world, at least in name.  It is beautiful, has always been. My maternal grandfather, once upon a time, was in charge of clearing the port, to allow for big ships to enter the bay and certainly he did  great job, now is one of the almost compulsory stops for a lot of cruises, to enjoy the views and the weather.  I have been going to Acapulco since I was a child, and of course the bay has not changed much, but the development of the area has really changed.  At one point, when my grandfather was working there, in some old pictures you can see some huts and the sandy beaches, and that is all, now, you can still see the sandy beaches, as beautiful as ever, but that is all, the land has been taken over by hotels, condos, houses, palaces and also big developments for the people living and working there.  Acapulco’s main activity is tourism, as such the service providers need a lot of staff to keep up the places, to clean, cook, order, sell and buy whatever is needed and lately one product that has become very common, unfortunately, is drugs of I guess all sorts and types and when you say drugs you also include drug lords and cartels and dirty wars and danger and shootings.  However the place still is beautiful and like in most so-called danger zones, all is relative.  Do not go into the dark corners of town alone, at night and uninvited but by all means, go to the beaches, to the nice restaurants, enjoy the great food, the fantastic hospitality and the weather, sunshine and all.  Eat as much fish and fish products as  you can, enjoy the views and try at least once fresh coconut water, the nut freshly opened in front of you, no ice, no artificial colouring, nothing but pure nature, few things can compare. it is really the best thirst quencher after plain fresh water.   

I have a friend that was invited to Acapulco, and such was the fascination and fame of the place that when I hinted I could tag along, he immediately said that “one does not take sandwiches to a banquet!” so he went with his friends, enjoyed the banquet and I remained in the city.  This happened many years ago and now I can go to all banquets on earth and do not need to tag along but the little phrase remains in use when needed.

 

This is the eye of Gordis, always watching and surveilling around him, but his story, or history, which goes hand in hand with that of Peque started as far as I am concerned about four years ago.  At the time I lived in a house that was an old farmhouse renovated and turned into flats, I had one of them, and of course, had neighbours, for the most part very nice and friendly people.  One day one of them that lived on the flat below mine came to ask for a favour. He had picked up or found two cats that he had been feeding, but since he was about to go on a trip, asked me if i could feed them and just make sure they had enough milk.  At the time neither of us knew that cats should not drink cow’s milk, it can be bad for their tummies, so i dutifully fed them their milk until I was fed up of having to go down everyday feed the cats and then decided that if they wanted to drink, they should learn to come to my front door. And they did, very quickly.  Then this daily routine pushed me to think about what would happen if they came inside the house, would they create havoc and turn everything upside down or not? the only way to find out was to try, so we did try and they of course were delighted to have another place to explore, went sniffing around all over, but did not touch anything and behaved very well. The next step was stay overnight and that went well too.  I must say that these two cats, of different ages, one, Gordis, must have been two or three years old and Peque was just a tiny little kitten. Although I do not have their pedigree, we all believe they are not blood related.  By the time the neighbour returned from his travels, I had decided that unless he was opposed to it, I might keep them and adopt them – although in all honesty it is they who adopted ME!  Anyway, Hans agreed, as they were not his either, they had just appeared at his doorstep one day.  So we mutually adopted each other and since there was no paperwork or any other administrative procedure, except make sure they had their medical checkup, up we went to the veterinarian office.  Up to them I was sure they were “girls” and did not want to become “grandma” as I sincerely believe there are enough children and cats in the world to bring more, so my idea was to have a microchip  in each one of them, with the information regarding their names, address and mine also, and castrate them so avoid having kittens.  So the vet, obviously more knowledgeable than me regarding the life and doing of cats and other animals embarked into a physical checkup of the cats and Oh Surprise!!  both were boys or male for the purists of separation between humans and animals. Still, both were castrated and both received their microchip and both became legally mine.

Now, in my former house, there was  big garden, unfenced, so they could go out and have the whole town for them, but if and when they wanted to come in or out, the doorwoman of service was yours truly and that after a couple of days became a nuisance, especially when the lords of the manor decided they wanted to go out for a stroll in the middle of the night.  So they went out hunting for mice or other cat-goodies and I went out hunting for a cat-door that would work independently from me, i.e. that they could open and close without human intervention .  I found one that opens and closes if the chip of the cat is the right chip, that is if they have the right key, they can simply miaul “Open Sesame” and the door lets them in.  To get out, like in most cases, you can leave whenever you want, going in is hard, but getting out, good riddance and that is that.  But this magical door requires some work, a hole in the wall or door or wherever you want to place it and in my case, after asking the help of a friend, who despite all his good will did not have the necessary skills for the job, i was forced to call a carpenter who had to take the door out, make the hole of the right size and set the cat-door, finally the only thing left was to teach the cat-door to recognise my two little balls of fur. Ever since the cat-door was installed we all were happy, they could go in and out at leisure and I  could just let them be.

 

Since them awe moved from the house with open garden to a flat on the 6th and last floor of the building, of course without garden but with three balconies, and view to the street, to the passing trains, to the buses and to the kids playing, all of these are hard to resist temptations to just down and share the fun, and me fearing that as they can pass their heads under the balustrade, they will not realise we are six floors up.  Cats may have seven lives, but…..

 

 

This is my very first post. The idea of writing a blog came from some friends that know of my love for travel, taking photos of my trips and also collecting different small souvenirs from the places visited.  They think it might be interesting to share them with all of you, all being the two or three readers I hope to achieve in due time.  Comments, suggestions and ideas are welcome.  All the best to you.

I have not written in a long time, maybe lack of inspiration, certainly not lack of time, but more exactly, I did not know what to write about.  In the meantime I went to Mexico for over three weeks and had a great time, although i had never been so cold in that beautiful city, particularly in the mornings and evenings, some days it was necessary to wear my coat inside the house.  Many people are surprised when i mention the fact that this winter had been very cold in the city, as they mostly assume it is always warm and sunny, but…. yes, Mexico City is more or less at the same level as Morocco, thus you would expect warm weather throughout the year, but this winter has been particularly crazy all over the world, maybe something to do with climate warming or not, but in the city the houses are not prepared for rude winters, the walls tend to be rather thin and of course lack most kinds of insulation, other than a thin layer of plaster, and this if you are lucky to live in a building but  many people live in tin houses, literally the walls are made of tin sheets, the roofs also and bricks and mortar are not the common building materials, others bear even harsher conditions as the houses are made of cardboard.  To make it all worse, if you have a job that calls you really in the morning, you have to leave your house extremely early, when weather can be 5 or 6 degrees above zero, and what if you do not have enough clothes to protect you?

I was very lucky as my friend’s house was cold but we have enough covers and warm clothes and once the sun starts shinning, which it does most of the days, the situation changes rapidly and cold becomes a pleasant warm temperature, some days even hot!

The sun, that beautiful and splendid ball of fire that brings life and joy to humans, although it can also be overpowering and relentless and cruel and without it, life could not exist, at least my life.  it could be said that I am daughter of the sun, it makes me thrive and allows me to be happy and full of energy, charges my batteries.