The Morelia Adventure Continues

Wednesday mi oficina (office) was a table in a cafe in Jardín de las Rosas (Rose Garden), a lovely little park across from the conservatory of music. Steve and I wanted to make this our favorite park when we were here before, but the two restaurantes are not vegetarian-friendly, and at night there are loud bands playing. In the afternoon it's quiet except for the occasional singer or guitar player who is so bad they must get most of their tips from people who pay them to go away. 

El menú showed something mysterious below the coffee and tea called tizana, which I couldn't find in my Spanish dictionary. I ordered a type of tizana called bosque tropicales because it sounded exotic. When it arrived in a white cup, I deduced that tizana is hot herbal tea, but my bosque tropicales seemed to have dried apples rather than anything tropicale in it. It was tasty.

My plan was to do my homework at the cafe. It's a little difficult because of the constant stream of people trying to sell me something or asking for money. I gave money in response to about one out of five of the requests. One guy sold me a pocket calendar. An old lady said there was something wrong with her leg. I would neither pay people to play music nor to stop playing. 

When I got to school Wednesday, as usual I said Buenos Días to the administrator, Regina, and she said Cómo estás? (How are you?). I am still struggling to answer this most basic of questions. I said Bueno (good) and she kindly informed me that Bueno is masculine, so I would say Buena if that were the appropriate way to answer the question, but it's not. I should say Bien. I was horrified to learn that when I have been saying Bueno or Buena, whichever comes out, I have been saying "I'm hot" or "I'm sexy". 

So many mistakes to make, so few people willing  to tell me when I'm making a fool of myself.

Thursday evening Ann and I went to two concerts. One was a group of estudiantinas, which is what they call the strolling minstrels who dress up in Elizabethan garb and lead tourists around the city. These estudiantinas were our age, and seemed to have traveled together a lot. One of them saw us looking like confused tourists who weren't sure where the concert was going to be. After telling us we were almost in the right place, he informed us that he got a PhD in petroleum geology from the University of Texas at Austin. Of course, he spoke perfect English. He told us people from the US should learn another language like the rest of the world, but they're too lazy. I was trying to figure out how to tell him that we were in Morelia to learn Spanish, but Ann told him before I got a chance.

The only song we knew in their concert was Cielito Lindo. You know the one: Ay-Ay-Ay-Ay. Canta y no llores. Sing and don't cry. That's the only part I can sing along with, but the audience enthusiastically joined in on all the songs. Ann is going to look up the lyrics to Cielito Lindo so we can be proper concert participants. 

Then we went to what was supposed to be a classical guitar and piano concert, but the pianist cancelled so the guitarist also cancelled. So they found a couple of classical guitar students to fill in. I can say that both of them play guitar better than I play mandolin. The most interesting part of the concert was when a bat (yes, with wings, not a rat) ran around on the floor by the guitar player. The poor thing must have been injured, and eventually ran to the back of the room where we heard some crashing and banging. I don't think it ended well for the bat.

Friday night the Festival de la Música opened with a concert by the Orquesta Filarmónica de Jalisco and I went with Ann and some of her host family: Lucy, whom I met a few days ago, her husband Victor and their son Irving, who works at the Ford Motor plant in Irapuato as an engineer. He provided our ride in his brand new Ford SUV. Ann reports that all of Lucy and Victor's children are brilliant: a doctor who is married to an American woman and lives in New York, a son in IT, a niece who is still in high school and currently staying with them. 

We met at Victor and Lucy's house and I tried to speak a little Spanglish with them. Victor said everything is Trump's fault, including the fact that Victor can't speak English. Ann and I agreed that was verdadero. Victor offered me some food, and I said no gracias. He asked me porque (why?) and I meant to say "No tengo hambre", which is the correct way to say I am not hungry. However, for some reason it came out "No tengo hombre", which means "I don't have a man". At least I am entertaining the locals. 

The symphony was espectacular. Teatros Morelos is a modern, relatively small concert hall with wooden interior walls and great acoustics. We had general admission tickets and were late because we were waiting for Irving to drive home from Irapuato, so we ended up in the last row, but we could hear and see just fine. Thirty minutes of speeches preceded the concert, so we didn't miss anything. There was a weird, disjointed piece I didn't like by Zoltan Kodaly, then fabulous works by Liszt, Brahms and Bartok. The audience went nuts for the pianist Daniela Liebman, a fifteen year old child prodigy from Guadalajara, who played Liszt's Concert No 1 in E Flat Major magically. Last year Forbes Magazine declared her One of the Forty Most Creative Mexicans in the World. She had to come back for several bows, and was not allowed to leave until she played an encore. I loved the Bartok: El Mandarin Maravilloso. So much energy, and so well played. 

About a million Monarch Butterflies spend their breeding season in the US and Canada, and in the winter, they almost all come here to Michoacán state, to a pine forest east of Morelia. They start arriving in November and leave in March. The best time to see them is on a sunny day in February, when they all here and fluttering around. On a cloudy day, they hang in clusters from the trees and look like dead leaves. 

I didn't expect to see Las Monarcas on this trip because it is so early in their season and because it's been warm up north, so they delayed their fall migration. But my school knows a tour company that takes tourists to see the butterflies, and they said there were plenty of butterflies there and they are putting on a show. So I took a chance that Saturday would be a sunny day and committed to the trip. I am so glad I did. 

It's a three hour drive, all up hill, to El Rosario Monarch Butterfly Preserve, a World Heritage Site. Once we reached the butterfly preserve, it was a 1.3 mile hike with 935' elevation change, from 9,952 feet above sea level to 10,887, according to my GPS. This is the highest I have ever been with my feet on the ground. The other customers were three ladies from Tijuana (TJ) who are a little younger than I am, but not accustomed to hiking at all, much less at 10,000 feet above sea level. One of them assumed they would ride the horses that take some of the tourists up the mountain, but the other two weren't having it. They chanted "Si, se puede!" Remember Obama's campaign slogan? "Yes, you can!" So we all walked the trail accompanied by a young Mexican couple and our guide, a young indigenous man. The ladies struggled with the hike, and were amazed that it wasn't difficult for me. I told them (in Spanish) that I hike in the mountains in Arizona, so then it made sense to them. We occasionally reminded each other "Si, se puede!" I couldn't figure out how to tell them that hiking at such a high altitude with thinner air is more difficult than at sea level where they live. Anyway, they were all good sports, and very kind to me, trying to speak English as I tried to speak Spanish. Their camaraderie reminded me of my hiking buddies. 

It was all worth it when we arrived at a clearing and the air was fluttering orange. High up in the pines, Monarchs were hanging in clusters and flying around. One of mis companeras gasped and started to cry, she was so overwhelmed by how beautiful it was. I mean, she was sobbing. It feels like a sacred place. Mecca for Monarch Butterflies.

Hard to see with my phone camera photo,

but those bits of orange in the pines are Monarch Butterflies.

You had to be there. 

This is the second time I have gotten a glimpse of what heaven may be like. The first time I was floating in a raft in the still water of the deep narrow channel of the Inner Gorge of the Grand Canyon, listening to Craig Childs play a wooden flute, with the music bouncing off two billion year old black Vishu Schist and pink Zoroaster Granite walls soaring 1,000 feet high. 

My new vision of heaven also involves looking up in awe, but now I'm looking to towering pines and the paradox of fragility and endurance that is the Mariposa Monarca.

After we descended from heaven back to earth, we enjoyed fresh blue tortillas, made of squash flower by an indigenous woman before our eyes on a wood stove made of half a 50 gallon drum. The tortillas were stuffed with mushrooms, onions, white beans, cheese and nopalitos -- prickly pear pads. Was it delicious? I had three.  

On the way back to Morelia, we stopped in a happening little village for home made ice cream. I had one scoop of aguacate (avocado) ice cream, and one scoop of mezcal ice cream. A sweet end to an amazing day.

Just heard from Steve. He has arrived in Zacatecas, and likes it a lot. As usual, he quickly made a new friend, and José is allowing him to talk all he wants on his cell phone, which has some incredible unlimited international minutes plan for $15 per month. Steve will take a nine hour bus ride to Morelia on Friday.

Steve met a couple from Texas on the plane who once had an undocumented Mexican living with them. This couple became very close to the Mexican and they consider him their son. He worked in the US and sent money home so he could build a house in stages as he was able to save the money. The last thing he did was add the bathroom, and he was so proud of this, because he had never had a home with a bathroom. He cried when talking about how important it was to him to provide his family a home with a bathroom. Once the house was built, he returned to Mexico to live with his wife and children. The Texas couple was flying to Zacatecas to meet the man's family and see this house that means so much to him. Steve saw the reunion in the airport. Needless to say, there was a lot of crying and joy.