This weekend, I felt like I was in a blender. We had many great experiences but it wasn't taken at a toddlers pace and getting lost didn't help.On Friday night, I prepared dinner and fed the girls while Chad went to the Lavanderia to begin washing clothes. We both agreed that it would be great to cross that chore off our list as we had a big weekend planned. After the girls and I finished carb-loading on bruschetta and mashed potatoes, I walked the girls to the Lavanderia to relieve Chad so he could come home and eat. Bruschetta AND mashed potatoes? We needed energy for the weekend and it was the first food that had been greeted kindly by our stomachs in days. Perhaps it didn't need to be a chaser to the big donut I had earlier in the day but that is now in the past and it does no good to focus on it.
This was my second trip to the Lavanderia. I really miss my own basement Lavanderia! Both times, I had broken conversations with the other women washing their clothes. Each day I am able to communicate a bit more. We talked about how there is always mucho laundry and it seems to always be the women doing it. I swear, when those other women saw Chad working on our laundry, they saw light shooting out of the top of his head and began looking for an aberration of the Virgin Mary to appear in soap suds.
In between conversations while waiting to transfer my clothes from the washer to the dryer or while folding clothes, I had lots of time to read and think. The weirdest thing happened both trips. I thought about dead people. I almost felt like my granddad and Chad's dad were right there with me doing the laundry. It was great to feel their presence. I don't know why they would visit me in a Mexican laundry mat. I guess I'll have to let it be a mystery. The only thing that I can figure out is that my heart has been overflowing many times on this trip. So many loving acts of kindness have been directed at me and my family since arriving. I suppose when a heart becomes so filled with love, that is a fertile place for a deceased loved one to make an appearance. I guess I should have looked more closely at the soap suds. Their faces may have actually appeared there.
With the laundry done, we were ready for our weekend. A gross, tourist weekend. I had to do it. I couldn't bear to come to Guadalajara without seeing certain touristy spots such as Mercado Libertad and the Orozco showcase at the Cabanas and the Government Palace. Saturday morning, Angelica, her sister and her daughter showed up at our door. I had tried calling her twice the day before to invite her on our Saturday excursions. No one in her house speaks English so I'm sure the only message she got was "English speaking person called and said blah, blah, blah, Angelica, blah, blah, blah Angelica." Her family also assumed that since I had called twice that something was wrong and I needed help. They had Angelica on the first bus to Tlaquepaque the next morning ready to assist me with whatever I needed. I told her that we just wanted to invite her to spend the day with us, which she did.
We took a bus into Guadalajara for a second trip to Parque Agua Azul, which was just as lovely the second time. Although, while Angelica and I went to get snacks for everyone Chad abandoned the playground and was found playing tag with the kids. I asked him why they weren't playing on the equipment and he said that tag was a safer game. I'm guessing that Mexicans aren't litigious an Mexico isn't filled with ambulance chasing attorneys. These playgrounds would never be allowed by insurance companies in the U.S.
After that, we bussed to downtown Guadalajara for a quick bite to eat and then more sight-seeing. First, we went to Mercado Libertad. Mercado Libertad is the largest indoor market in the Americas. Thousands and thousands of vendors. You can buy ANYTHING here. It was frenetic. We took a peek. Took some pictures then got out of there. There was one huge section of electronic equipment and movies. The DVD's for sale here are hilarious. "Shrek the 3rd" has already been "released" in Mexico. The copy of "Happy Feet" that was loaned to us was like something from a Seinfeld episode. The pirate (pronounced PEE-RAH-TUH) who filmed it was seeing tracers or something. The camera was all over the place. My favorite part was watching the heads of the movie patrons seated in front of Mr. P.
Once we left Mercado Libertad, we walked through the Central Joyero on our way to the Cabanas. Joyeros are jewelry stores. These are unbelievable. There are five or six huge building that are three and four stories high packed with jewelry vendors. And it is all relatively inexpensive. I'm sure that many Americans make purchasing trips down here and return to sell the jewels dramatically marked up in the U.S.
We arrived at the Cabanas and looked at the amazing Orozco murals for as long as the kids could stand it. Orozco lived from 1884 - 1949 and is as important to Mexican History and art as Diego Rivera. His paintings depict his critical view of the Mexican Revolution. They are incredible to see in person. They are dark and violent but astonishing. The Cabanas houses over 50 of his murals as well as a collection of scale drawings for the murals. Prior to becoming an art museum, the Cabanas, the construction of which began in 1805, served as a shelter and workshop for orphans to learn a trade. Later, during Mexico's war for independence, it housed soldiers, horses, and arms. Eventually it resumed its humanitarian mission and several years later, became an art center.
After visiting the Cabanas, we made one last stop at the government palace to look at another Orozco mural, "El Grito de Independencia." Astonishing.
We arrived home fairly late and settled in. Guadalupe stopped by to say "hello" after the girls fell asleep and ended up doing Chad and my numerology calculations. How interesting and accurate in its depiction of our personalities. Except the part where she said Chad had the numbers of a "genius." Wouldn't a genius know that wiping the counters down is part of doing the dishes? Oh! Did I just make a cat sound? Sorry. Okay, so, (swallow, swallow, grit teeth) as hard as it is to admit, the boy does have some genius qualities about him.
We woke up Sunday morning and lounged around a bit before heading to the opposite end of the city - Zapopan. Here is where I get lost, crabby, and generally unpleasant to be around. I misunderstood my teacher Julia. She is from Zapopan and agreed to show us around this unique part of the city and take us to Trompo Magico, a state of the art interactive children's museum. After a smooth bus ride, where we coughed up the $2.70 USD to ride first class, we arrived at the center of town circling, of course, a large cathedral. I had taken notes from my last e-mail correspondence with Julia and was prepared to meet her at the rotondo by the cathedral. Everyone, including the genius Chad, told me that what I had written down was the rotondo in downtown Guadalajara by the big cathedral there. No! I insisted that we were supposed to meet Julia in Zapopan. It is now 15 minutes past our agreed upon meeting time and I'm beginning to realize something is wrong. I decide it is time to call her cell phone. At least I was smart enough to bring the number with me.
In a very snappy manner, I leave Chad and the girls at a Gazebo and walk towards the street market near the cathedral where I see some pay phones. The problem is that these pay phones take a special card. I have no idea where to purchase this special card and have suddenly forgotten all Spanish. Here is where what I can only categorize as some good Karma kicks in. A vendor sees me struggling (probably being rude to my family) as I try talking to two young men playing with three cell phones between them. I just needed to make one phone call. Well, thank the Virgin of Zapopan this vendor who was watching me spoke some English.
"Hello! My name is Fernando. How can I be of help?"
I wanted to kiss the old guy. I told him our situation, all the while my aura emanating mujer estupida, and then he convinced the two men with three cell phones to let me use one of them. All the while, the genius and our two offspring patiently letting me navigate this. I got the bilingual, super smart, 24 year old Julia on the line and told her I was in Zapopan. (Note to self: Must learn second language.) She was as patient as someone who had e-mailed me photos and exact titles of where we were supposed to meet could be. She was in downtown Guadalajara. However, when she asked me where I was exactly I had to hand the phone back over to my new lover, Fernando. He spoke with her for a few moments and walked my seemingly retarded self with my nice family to the exact location where we she would pick us up. As I thanked Fernando over, and over, and over, and over, he said "Listen, I hope to go to the United States one day and I know I'll need help. Hopefully, I'll find some."
Julia arrived with her super smart bilingual boyfriend and younger brother. (Note to self: Must learn second language.) It was now so late in the afternoon that they had only enough time to drop us off at Trompo Magico before going back to downtown Guadalajara to see a play they had tickets for. So, to sum it all up, they spent their afternoon burning fossil fuels trying to locate us only to act as a taxi. They dropped us off at Trompo Magico and I alternately thanked them and apologized over and over and over and over before we said our good-byes and headed inside.
Trompo Magico was amazing. As state-of-the-art as any children's facility I have seen in the U.S., although hard to navigate being a one language wonder such as myself. (Note to self: Must learn second language.) A tropical storm strength rain arrived as we took a break from museum seeing to eat hamburgers. We resumed our activities until the museum closed at 7 p.m. We weren't looking forward to walking to a bus stop in the downpour and asked some other parents with a child playing in the same area as our girls if it were possible to get a taxi here. I forgot to mention that Trompo Magico was as far away as we could possibly be and still be in the same zip code, or whatever it is called here, as Tlaquepaque.
The couple spoke less English than we do Spanish. They offered to give us a ride home. This was no small gesture as "Casa Contenta" is at least a 40 minute drive from Trompo Magico. Chad and I both prayed that they didn't think we were asking the for a lift. We kept saying "Taxi, no problemo. Grande Problemo para ti," whatever that meant. They insisted and after the museum closed, their three children and our family of four piled in their mini-van for the long journey. Martha, Salvador, and their three children were incredibly nice. They tried to stop at a restaurant for posole but in was unfortunately closed. I so wanted it to be open so we could buy their dinner in repayment for their kindness. During the journey home, we learned that they had recently driven from Guadalajara, to California, to Missouri and back to visit family. They said, as far as I could tell, that no one in the United States was very willing to offer them assistance on their journey. This made me sad. It also made me think of Karma again.
I distinctly remember making a deposit in my Karma bank not so long ago back home. A very pregnant refugee from Africa sat at a bus stop during a heavy rain, no umbrella. I absolutely could not just pass her by. It took me over an hour to figure out where she lived due to the language barrier. It was less than three miles from my house but over 60 minutes when the only common language was hands. I can't help but think that somehow this offer of transportation was connected to the generous gift we received this day. I also realized that I should look for more opportunities to make deposits into my Karma account. It is no fun to be lost, far from home, inept at the local language, and having a bad day.
We invited our new friends in to "Casa Contenta." They came in for just a moment and I made sure they left with bananas, crackers, and sandwich bags filled with Cheerios for the journey home. It was the least I could do.
They let us take a photo with them, then we offered to take a photo of just their family and promised to e-mail it. Since they seem to enjoy driving so much, we invited them to come to Idaho anytime. I honestly think they will take us up on the offer. We exchanged information and hugs and parted ways.
Tonight, I went to Farmacia Guadalajara and for $1.50 USD had 3 photos printed in about 5 minutes. I then went to the street market and purchased a frame. I have decided I can do better than e-mail even if it means getting lost again. Tomorrow, somehow, I will get this beautiful framed photo of this beautiful, kind family all the way to Zapopan as a "thank you." Wish me luck.
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