Thursday, September 28, 2006
Another Great Film
Last night we saw The Name of the Rose, a 1986 film we'd never heard of before starring Sean Connery and a 15-year-old Christian Slater. It's a noir-ish murder mystery set in an Italian abbey in the 14th century. Good acting, complicated plot, amazing make-up, loads of atmosphere.
Check it out.
Check it out.
Our New Jobs
I came across this poem on The Writer's Alamanac this morning. While it's imagery is kinda pastoral, I think it goes a long way toward answering the "How do you guys fill up your days?" question we so often hear.
Messenger
My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.
Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,
which is mostly standing still and learning to be
astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,
which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Running of the Bulls
Saturday we attended our first Sanmiguelada -- San Miguel's version of Pamplona's running of the bulls. It was impressively strange. Wall-to-wall people, mostly young, mostly drunk, clad in white shirts and red bandanas. The scene reminded us of an insanely large tailgate party. In lieu of running backs and linebackers, we had on one team six 1,000 pound bulls that appeared to be hopped up on amphetamines. The other team largely consisted of well-heeled latinos with good haircuts, tailored clothes and $200 sunglasses. These young daredevils strutted and preened for their girlfriends, but whenever a bull got within fifty yards of them, exhibited an alarming tendency to leap, panic-stricken, up on the guardrails behind which we spectators safely stood. An astounding show of bravery!! A few more foolhardy, drunk and scruffy guys actually ran among the bulls, taunting them with home-made red capes and the ubiquitous bandanas. One American guy trotted ahead of the bulls in a multi-colored chicken outfit -- no kidding! Most of the time the bulls ignored these crazies, or merely swatted at them in annoyance. Every once in awhile, however, one would get surprisingly pissed off and a would-be toreador ended up being carted off by the waiting ambulance crews. Amazingly, no one was killed or seriously maimed... to best of our knowledge. After about a half hour of this madness, most of the bulls were out of steam and ready for the corral. (Obviously bulls aren't bred for stamina.) I guess the bull runners started getting bored too 'cause as we were heading back into the restaurant for another sangria, we heard a quick series of little pops that reminded us of Jack Ruby in Dallas. Sure enough a couple of drunk guys were engaged in a shoot-out just up the street from us in plain view of the TV cameras. It was all over before we had a chance to duck. By the time we glanced up at the TV screen, paramedics were loading the guys into yet another ambulance like balky sacks of grain. Soon thereafter, the bull wranglers appeared to have roped and loaded the bulls into a transport truck, at which time we decided we'd had enough fun for one morning and started to head home. We made it as far as the town square before we discovered a) the barricades were still up, blocking all exit from what had been the "track", and b) one bull was apparently still loose. We barely had time to think, "Holy shit!" before a terrified mob of kids stampeded in our direction, flattening us against one of the barricades. Thankfully, we stayed on our feet and the exhausted bull quickly lost interest in the chase. From our scary vantage point, we observed this tidal mass of drunken humanity ebb and flow several more times before officials finally dispatched the bull and began removing the barricades. Hearts pumping and dripping sweat, Karen and I threw ouselves into the nearest sports bar, ordered cold beers and calmly watched Cal pummel Arizona State.
Quote of the Day
It occurs to me that we're really living a charmed life."
-- Mizzy, baking chocolate chip cookies
-- Mizzy, baking chocolate chip cookies
Friday, September 22, 2006
Yum!
Another post for our foodie friends. Well... foodie friends who will eat chicken livers. (Anybody still reading?)
Aurora, the sweet lady who cleans for us on Tuesdays, gave me a generous container of her rich and spicy mole ranchero. The same day we came across a vendor at the mercado selling beautiful fresh chicken livers. That night, feeling frisky in the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of chilled white wine and said, "What the hell?" Long story short, I think I discovered a culinary match made in heaven. The recipe (serves 4):
Ingredients
1 lb chicken livers (or a mixture of livers & hearts)
1 red onion, sliced thin
2T olive oil
1/4 cup oloroso sherry
1/2 cup mole (home-made or store bought)
Salt & pepper
Preparation
Caramelize onions in olive oil
When soft and lightly browned, add sherry and reduce to a syrup
Set aside
Saute livers 'til cooked through, but still tender
Add onions and mole
Cook on high temp until well-mixed and mole slightly reduces
Dinner: Serve with rice & veggie of choice
Breakfast: Fold into a freshly cooked omelette, top with a dollop of sour cream
Enjoy!
Aurora, the sweet lady who cleans for us on Tuesdays, gave me a generous container of her rich and spicy mole ranchero. The same day we came across a vendor at the mercado selling beautiful fresh chicken livers. That night, feeling frisky in the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of chilled white wine and said, "What the hell?" Long story short, I think I discovered a culinary match made in heaven. The recipe (serves 4):
Ingredients
1 lb chicken livers (or a mixture of livers & hearts)
1 red onion, sliced thin
2T olive oil
1/4 cup oloroso sherry
1/2 cup mole (home-made or store bought)
Salt & pepper
Preparation
Caramelize onions in olive oil
When soft and lightly browned, add sherry and reduce to a syrup
Set aside
Saute livers 'til cooked through, but still tender
Add onions and mole
Cook on high temp until well-mixed and mole slightly reduces
Dinner: Serve with rice & veggie of choice
Breakfast: Fold into a freshly cooked omelette, top with a dollop of sour cream
Enjoy!
Sign of the Times
When we planned this move, one major objective weas to simplify our lives. How we doin'? I think this photo pretty much says it all.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Black Comedy Heaven
We celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary last week taking in a movie with our friends (of 33 years!!) Tom and Dona. We kinda flipped a coin and chose Little Miss Sunshine. After 35 years together, two hours of poking each other in the ribs and laughing at the same lines was almost as good as kinky sex. Our advice: Married or not, don't miss it. Just leave your sense of political correctness locked in the car.
One More Quote
I came across this today, an excerpt from a new film called Old Joy: “Sorrow is nothing but worn-out joy.” Out of mouths of screenwriters...
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
September Surprise
Although our little jardin (garden) is, for the most part, still a barren sandpit, this weekend we discovered what looks like two tiny morel mushrooms. If we can score a couple of quail eggs, we figure we can make a cute and tasty little omelette. (With all the rain we've had this summer, we were kinda hoping for magic mushrooms, but hey, we'll accept whatever nature brings us.)
Who knew?
We attended a birthday party Sunday and were served a chicken and mole comida (lunch). When we unwrapped the accompanying platter of tortillas... Whoaaa!!! We discovered another Mexican tradition -- festive torillas for festive occasions. (Food coloring is obviously a pantry staple that transcends cultural and geographical boundaries.)
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Ole!
My first (and most likely last) bullfight. Salient impressions:
1) Even though I'm notoriously color blind, I was stunned by the bulls' blood. Such a brilliant Technicolor scarlet it looked fake. (It wasn't.)
2) I actively hated the picadors (Spanish for " fat fuckers on horseback who repeatedly stab the bulls with long spears".)
3) Having owned a dog all my life, I couldn't help rooting for the bull.
Someone told me today that cockfighting is a much better sport 'cause at least it's a fair fight.
1) Even though I'm notoriously color blind, I was stunned by the bulls' blood. Such a brilliant Technicolor scarlet it looked fake. (It wasn't.)
2) I actively hated the picadors (Spanish for " fat fuckers on horseback who repeatedly stab the bulls with long spears".)
3) Having owned a dog all my life, I couldn't help rooting for the bull.
Someone told me today that cockfighting is a much better sport 'cause at least it's a fair fight.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Viva Mexico!
Last night we crowded into the Jardin (town square), with several thousand rambunctious, flag-waving locals, to witness the opening ceremonies of the Mexican Independence Day celebration. Holy crap! It began (at 11pm) with the Mayor stepping out onto a balcony to recite El Grito, the speech Father Hidalgo delivered in 1810, which incited a peasant uprising that ultimately led to Mexico's independence from Spain. What immediately followed was an hour or so of non-stop, out-of-control fireworks like we've never seen before. Not just the usual starbursts in the sky, but fifty foot towers rigged to whirl and dance and scream, and utimately launch fiery, spinning discs that rocketed up into the night sky, exploded and then plummeted into the cheering crowd. Shortly thereafter, we saw one guy carted away in an ambulance with a minor head wound. He may have taken one for the home team, but then again, it might have just been an olf-fashioned drinking injury. The most amazing sight? An apparent fuse malfunction caused the display to come to a sudden, momentary halt. Seconds later, in a feat of astounding bravery, or stupidity, a worker ascended the swaying tower, lit what appeared to be a string of firecrackers, and was immediately englfed in a ring of fire, noise and smoke, out of which he calmly descended. The crowd went wild! I'm sure it took a lot of guts for Father Hidalgo to challenge the nearly invincible Spanish armies, but I'm telling you, he had nothing, cojones-wise, on the little fireworks guy. This afternoon, I'm attending my first bullfight. More later.
Wolf Blitzer
We just retirned from New York, my first trip back to the States since we moved. All in all, a truly wonderful trip -- lots of amazing serendipity, crossing paths with friends from seemingly every nook and cranny of our past lives. But here's my most salient memory: our arrival in the Houston airport. From the time we disembarked, we were surrounded -- bombarded, really -- by an onslaught of media. The worst was CNN. Loud, intense, urgent, addressing every Congressional meeting or traffic tie-up as if it were the onset of World War Three. My pulse raced, blood pressure jumped. Hell, I couldn't even read. Is it any wonder Americans are reported to live in a near constant state of fear? In time, I hope, the Wolf Blitzer nightmares will begin to recede.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Good Karma
After spending much of today trudging up and down San Miguel's steeper hills, we sidled into a local bar to rest our legs and quench our thirst. Lo and behold it's happy hour. No sooner do we order our first drinks, when they pull out a felt-lined box and some dice. They tell us, the first time a patron rolls a seven or eleven, 2x1 happy hour becomes 3x1 for the next fifteen minutes (Monday's only). You guessed it -- a young business guy in a pink tie promptly rolled a seven, and we rolled home an hour later feeling pretty darned lucky ourselves.
Another Great Quote
We attended a party here Sunday night and after a fair number of margaritas overhead our hostess talking with friends:
"My kids tell me that I embarrass them all the time. [PAUSE] Well, fuck 'em!"
San Miguel seems to attract an unusually bold and interesting type of person. The party was a good example. We met: Francisco, an importer of Uruguayan wines [Who knew?]; Carl, a retired beer distributor from the States who now makes exotic ice creams; the Four Finger Baker [Don't ask], who brought hot loaves of jalapeno-cheese bread; Paul & Wendy, from Seattle, who run a local marketing firm; another Mike, the owner of the house, a retired honcho in the Canadian Navy; our host, yet another Mike [Wonder why I like this place?], who chain smokes cigars and serves the most succulent Texas barbeque brisket Karen and I have ever tasted; Chris, a banker turned photographer who's housesitting a castle for some wealthy guys from Chicago, one of whom is named Guido [Draw your own conclusions]; Mike & Fran, here almost a year after chucking corporate jobs in Cleveland [Former financial guy Mike is currently into doing Monday Night Football and mescal with Chris]; Chris's Mexican-born best friend Alex, a successful programmer, and his wife Tanya, a yoga instructor; Eduardo, a long-haired classic ex-hippie who sells ice cream off a horse drawn cart; a Scottish couple who mostly live in Florida, but are contemplating a move back to The Highlands; a young artist couple swathed in stylish layers of black; and I swear, a wonderful middle-aged Mexican guy (there with his wife and three kids) who was introduced to us a Shaman who raises fighting cocks in the country. The highlight of the evening: a lovely guitar-strumming woman serenading the group with Mexican folks songs. As she sang about the passion of lovers who have been together for many years, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Yeah, it could've been the mescal Chris shared with me, but this was an evening I'll never forget. Oh yeah, did I mention the brilliant clouds-on-fire sunset?
"My kids tell me that I embarrass them all the time. [PAUSE] Well, fuck 'em!"
San Miguel seems to attract an unusually bold and interesting type of person. The party was a good example. We met: Francisco, an importer of Uruguayan wines [Who knew?]; Carl, a retired beer distributor from the States who now makes exotic ice creams; the Four Finger Baker [Don't ask], who brought hot loaves of jalapeno-cheese bread; Paul & Wendy, from Seattle, who run a local marketing firm; another Mike, the owner of the house, a retired honcho in the Canadian Navy; our host, yet another Mike [Wonder why I like this place?], who chain smokes cigars and serves the most succulent Texas barbeque brisket Karen and I have ever tasted; Chris, a banker turned photographer who's housesitting a castle for some wealthy guys from Chicago, one of whom is named Guido [Draw your own conclusions]; Mike & Fran, here almost a year after chucking corporate jobs in Cleveland [Former financial guy Mike is currently into doing Monday Night Football and mescal with Chris]; Chris's Mexican-born best friend Alex, a successful programmer, and his wife Tanya, a yoga instructor; Eduardo, a long-haired classic ex-hippie who sells ice cream off a horse drawn cart; a Scottish couple who mostly live in Florida, but are contemplating a move back to The Highlands; a young artist couple swathed in stylish layers of black; and I swear, a wonderful middle-aged Mexican guy (there with his wife and three kids) who was introduced to us a Shaman who raises fighting cocks in the country. The highlight of the evening: a lovely guitar-strumming woman serenading the group with Mexican folks songs. As she sang about the passion of lovers who have been together for many years, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Yeah, it could've been the mescal Chris shared with me, but this was an evening I'll never forget. Oh yeah, did I mention the brilliant clouds-on-fire sunset?
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Another San Miguel Surprise
A young Americano artist-barista just opened a new coffee shop in town, where we discovered the best latte we've ever had... anywhere. So rich, it borders on whipped cream. So next time you're tempted to worry about the Goots struggling to survive in The Third World, don't.
Great Writing
We just saw a charming independent film -- Junebug -- filmed in and around the Winston-Salem area. Made us smile, seeing the Piedmont landscapes and thinking about our years in Carolina. I just had to share the one line that generated peels of out-loud laughter, probably 'cause we all wished we could have used it on someone we know/love:
"God loves you just the way you are. But He loves you too much to let you stay that way."
P.S. We also saw another amazing film -- Tsotsi, set in South Africa -- which apparently won the Oscar last year for Best Foreign Film. Our recommendation: Rent it as soon as it comes out on DVD.