Deeper into Dia de los Muertos

Sometimes reality gets obscured...if only for a moment.

It’s 5:30 am. I know because I glanced at the time just as the nearby Church bells clang into my consciousness.

Todos somos calaveras
We are all skeletons

I lay there in a dreamy state remembering that today, November 1^st, is my Birthday.

I smile thinking the bells are for me. Egotistical, for sure. 

And then adding to it from the court yard below, a Mexican brass band trumpets loudly-very loudly.  Wow,  as if that’s not enough, overhead a volley of rockets explode in rapid succession.

I’m awake.

Still, in my mind, I play with the egotistical fantasy of bells chiming, brass band playing and rockets exploding for me. When in reality, it’s the Church calling the faithful to Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead.

Designed from marigolds
and colored sawdust

Cathedral in Morelia

Today, I'll go to Morelia about a four hour bus ride from Ajijic. It’s a beautiful city adorned with monumental buildings from Spanish Colonial times.

I’ll be joining a small tour group. Our guide promises a deeper glimpse into the ritual of Day of the Dead as Mexican families again remember and even welcome deceased loved ones back into their lives.

We go to a small indigenous village – Cuanajo. A family who recently lost a loved one, welcomes us into their home. Before us stands an altar known as an Ofrenda. 

Pictures of the deceased and their treasured objects keep their living spirit before us. It’s not worship of the deceased but more of a communion with them.

Being with a loved one at the Ofrenda

Neighbors bring gifts of food. Fruit and bread baskets spill across the floor. Our guide says that the food is meant for sharing in a festive celebration of life and death. We are encouraged to leave our tourist mentality behind and become participants with all the others.

To light the pathway

I’m welcomed into the family with hot chocolate and a cluster of buns especially baked for this occasion. As I dunk the bread in to the chocolate, I look around.

Candles glow everywhere. I learn that they are considered essential to light the pathway for the deceased. Likewise marigolds - flowers and petals – have a special meaning. Their color and scent guide the departed towards the party...if only for this day and night.

A group says a rosary. Another gathers in lively conversation. A cluster of older men quietly reminisce or at least I think they are. Children run about. Cups of hot Atole (corn based drink) are shared. And another tray of Frijoles de la olla (bean soup) circulates. Lots of food.

And within the party, there seems to be a presence.  Have the departed returned?  It's not a scary spooky thing.  This community joins not only in a time of remembering, but also in being together.

Imagine, if the dead and living were more inter-dependent.  Mexican people say, "You die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when your name is said for the last time."  

If you haven’t yet seen the Disney movie, Coco, see it and you’ll understand.

It’s a powerful experience sensing the attachment that exists between living and deceased. 

Life is short, and death keeps going on.

Learn more https://www.inside-mexico.com/the-day-of-the-dead-offering/

In the dark hours of the night, we make our way to Tzurumútaro and a Church’s graveyard. It’s a steep climb up a series of hills. At 9000 feet, we can stop and catch our breath – as often as we want.

We’re told that the original Mexican people - Purepecha or Tarascans to the Spanish conquistadors – considered this space sacred. They did not build temples, but came here to bury the dead and connect with Spirit.

The Spaniards appropriated the space in the mid 1600s and later built a Church. They worked at Christainizing the natives. Still indigenous beliefs survived. In fact the entire notion of Day and Night of the Dead comes from these ancient sacred spaces and the Purepecha people.

Come. let’s walk into the grave yard.

Groups cluster in a kind of vigil. Some are talking quietly. Other stand in silent contemplation. Tourists, like us, take pictures and try to not be too conspicuous. It is a sacred space.

Candles illuminate and marigolds glow. Knowing the story, I can imagine the deceased finding their way towards us. I mention this to a fellow tourist, and she starts crying. 

Her father had died.

Skulls recalling the beloved
of Ajijic's community 

I begin recalling family and loved ones who have died also. I ask my inner voice to visualize antidotes – the ones that are funny or typical of their lives.  

I stand there for a long time... imaging as if seeing a dream... surrounded by the glow of candles and scent of marigolds.  

If only, the barrier between life and death was more porous. Maybe then, there would be a kind of reunion.  

Dia de los Muertos....See you again

Ajijic, Mexico Adventure Begins

I’m here at the Guadalajara airport. A plane full of people and I await the portable steps to disembark. It won’t be long. I see several workers bringing the stairway across the tarmac.

Destination: Ajijic on Lake Chapala

Now unexpectedly my first adventure begins.

I gaze down the steep and rickety stairs. “Oh well, one foot at a time,” I say to myself. It’s going to be slow, but that’s the way it’s gotten to be these days. 

The people behind me will have to be patient – not that anyone is complaining. I’m grateful.

And then surprise.

Out of nowhere, an attendant motions me towards a wheelchair. I demur thinking not me. Am I really looking that old? But with gestures, the man insists. “Senor, por favor.”

I take a seat. Quickly, we make it towards Customs. He ushers me from counter to counter. When you’re in a wheel chair, there’s no zig-zagging in lines. 

 A wheelchair person goes to the head of the line. What can be an arduous process is complete in record time.  Senior privilege. 

I get up to thank the attendant and be on my way, but he jesters - No No, Senor.  I’m captive to his hospitality. It’s onward to baggage claim and then towards a taxi...right to the curb.

Overlooking the Plaza in the center of Ajijic

Of course, there are friendly and caring people everywhere, but I’m especially thankful for this hospitality tonight. 

 I can’t help but wonder if his kindness might be an omen of good things to come.

The next morning I’m eager to re-acquaint myself with Ajijic.

I was here last year for 3 months teaching Adult ESL English and now I’m back for 6 more months. 

I love teaching and feel like I’m able to give back a little especially with all the rancor Mexican people have endured from our American politicians.

My Ajijic home is a two room apartment. It’s like Peace Corps living all over again. It’s a family run hotel about two block away from the main Plaza. It’s called Hotel Italo. 

Some would say it’s rustic and it does show vintage age, but my two rooms are spacious and have everything I’ll need. There’s even a wall of windows flooding my space with light...wonderful.

Outside is a patio. It’s like an extra room. Butterflies and humming birds skip from flower to flower sipping nectar. 

I’m delighted. 

 A row of pigeons stand guard on the walls of the neighboring church.

Look closely on the left ,
behind the turret is the hotel where I live

San Andres Church is rooted in the Spanish conquest of indigenous people around 1530.  Soon afterwards, the Catholic missionaries followed and began converting.    

Because Ajijic was a fishing village, they named the new  Church after Andrew, one of the disciples who Jesus called fisher of men. 

Hotel Italo was squeezed in a plot of land next to the Church around 1975.  

I have a charming view of the bell tower about 50 feet away from my patio. 

Imagine the surprise that awaits me each morning as bells announce early mass and the start of the day.

DONG! DONG! DONG! Dingaling dingaling dingaling! 

So since it’s easy to get up early in Ajijic (Does anyone have a choice?), let’s get ready and greet our day. 

 

Typical street scene

Walk down the cobble stone streets with me. 

Happy colors every where

Notice the small homes painted in ever so bright colors. 

Taking up a 4x8 foot wall space,
this Lizard looks friendly

Street art is carefully painted onto empty wall spaces. What do you think of this colorful lizard?

Often metal gates, like large garage doors, hide beautiful garden spaces punctuated with quaint casitas inside. Mexican people love their gardens.

Lush gardens

People say that the weather here is nearly perfect. 

Looking across Lake Chapala

Average day time temperature ranges from mid 70s to mid 80s year round.  Rarely does it get into the 90s or fall below 70. And when it rains, it’s most often at night. 

At 5,000 feet surrounded by mountains and nestled in a valley with a 14 mile long Lake Chapala, it seems nearly perfect. 

Locals make a joke asking "so where's that perfect place?"  

I like taking long walks and have a goal of strolling all the streets of Ajijic during my sojourn here. I’m, doing about 3 miles a day – not bad for an older guy!

While wandering to the end of the road,
I discovered this sight

Along the way, I take picture and imagine how I might turn the images into watercolors.

As I pass people, I'm greeted with an “Hola or Buenas Dias.”  People are genuinely friendly.

I meet these women - sisters and mother, I believe. 
Weeks later I meet the older woman again.
She insists on a lengthy conversation holding my hand the entire time.
I don't understand the Spanish but I do feel the human warmth. 
She will be 100 years in January.

Often, people pause and say, “Como esta?” asking, “How are you?” It’s like a mini- conversation making strangers feel connected and welcomed.  

I love it.

It reminds me of Satchmo Arstrong’s beloved song, What a Wonderful World. 

Take a listen to this version sung by young and old from around the world.  

Bookmark it for restoring hope and goodwill whenever you feel the need.   

It's great to be here.  My life in Ajijic is beginning again.