My son, first born and one of four, and his wife to be asked me to make a speech at their wedding. I'm going to post it here but prefix it by describing the anticipated general audience. I might say I am surprised at the conservatism of the young people of the day. It seems the bulk of them still believe in Mognanamy and happy ever after. Despite some of them, as with my son and his fiancé, having already had a marriage or a child bearing relationship. This wedding, second for the bride, will be a white wedding. One for which my son is selling his twin cab ute to fund. So, in my speech I am somewhat indulging this mindset. But, at the same time I am honestly sharing thoughts on my own experience, even though i totally accept getting married and having children is not on everyones' agenda. And noteworthy is that when writing this speech at the back of my mind was the knowledge that my ex, who I do not speak with at all would be present. I felt obliged to make my speech that in no way derided him. Much as I'd love to. No, not really. As it happens i just found out my ex wont be attending. But that's a whole other story. A bit of backstory; my son has a four year old daughter, Kayla, to another lady. The bride has another child, Michael, to her first husband. And they have a daughter, Grace, to each other, conceived prior to my son even breaking up officially with the mother of his first child. The bride is an old school friend of my daughter, the grooms' sister. I think they may have had a brief fling back in their school days.
So the speech;
Most of us are looking for love, if we haven't found it already. The 'one'. And when you find the one, well, most end up dressing up fancy and declaring it to the world. You've found the one. Yay! Well, you think you've found the one, but its not about just one at all.
When you have your first child you can't wait to love them. It's a given. Then if you have another one - you love the first one so much you might have some concerns that you have enough love for someone else in your life. But if you go there, by the time you have a third baby, you know from your second that of course you have enough love to go around. If you're crazy enough to have a fourth you might go back to having concerns about there being enough love. But of course there is. There's just not enough room in the car! All that love, just from loving the one.
But wait, there's more!
Those little kiddies go off to school and make friends. They bring those friends home and dang if you don't start loving some of them too! I look around this room and see some of those kids who worked their way into my heart. Two right here at the bridal table; Courtney, Nathan.
But wait, there's more!
Then your kids start dating and if you're lucky you start loving their chosen ones. Looking around the room i see some of them too. Alan, Radha - oh and courtney, your name keeps popping up.
But wait, there's more!
Then your kids have kids! And by then your heart's such a rubbery pliable blob so used to loving that you just can't get enough. You can't wait for more, and more, and more. In my case I didn't have to wait too long.
Cal and Courtney have made a great start, today they are celebrating more than just finding their one and onlys and a life together forever. They are celebrating love and its just as well they've both got a lot of love to give - they are up to their necks in it already. Courtney, I know you're the one for Cal, your love for him has really bought out the best in him. Your caring and love for kayla has made her extended family experience a bonus in her life. And thank you for bringing two more loves, Michael and Grace into our lives, not to mention the rest of your family. So much love. Welcome to our family.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Monday, September 12, 2011
A crack in the head
Every seven years things change, so says the Neuro Emotional Technique therapist I consulted last week. Certainly I’ve dropped in on a wave of big change, and I could say that was due to a serious crack in my head a couple of weeks ago. But it had been gaining momentum before that. I had already sought to consult this guy who was going to unblock everything in my head. My chiropractor swore by him and I swear by my chiropractor. But perhaps the knock helped and left my brain soft and malleable.
Most of the hour consultation centred around the many naricissists I’ve had in my life. To my credit, I do shed them and more recently more quickly. But it was a concerning pattern to me to keep dumping men. That’s what I wanted unlocked. Convinced of course it was my shortcoming. Not realising that in fact I was wising up. Now apparently I won’t attract them. What a relief. All fixed.
So there’s this seven year wave of change. And I agree with that because also on the family front there are some big changes going on. Testing, messy and exhausting changes mostly. So it stands to reason all around us other people are catching their own waves and so it’s possible that some may even catch same wave as me because there seems to be another surfer alongside me, an old friend. Actually we’re neck and neck but sharing the wave nicely, like two dolphins. And this is definitely due to the crack in the head. The night I cracked my head open I let this old friend in. Someone, not family, helped me and was at my side for nearly 24 hours. And after, he kept caring.
In amongst all the talk of narcissists the therapist is divining information from my pulse and inner aura - don’t know if that’s the correct term but it sounds in keeping with the mystique of this treatment - we checked my surfing friend. He’s a good guy, the therapist is very quick to say. A giver. I realise that this giver is perhaps the first male giver to get into my life up close, apart from my two sons. Myself and all my children are givers. Very rare, to have so many in one family says the NET therapist. And an eye opener that I’ve only ever seemed to attract narcissists on an intimate level. Well no, I know there’s been some givers along the way but they’ve either been just friends, unavailable or got away on me. Missed the wave. Like my old friend. Or perhaps I just didn’t let them catch it, the superior surfer. The blocker outerer.
So, even though a few years ago I tried a relationship with my surfing friend, it must not have been a strong enough wave and he fell by the wayside. Okay, I dumped him. This time I’ve decided to try and stay up and see how things might ride out with a giver for a change. And already I feel a whole lot more warmth and fuzziness. And sincerity. Coming at me. On my wave.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
the new single mother
Single motherhood.
No buts about it, single motherhood is a tough gig. I became a single mother with four teenagers aged from 11 to 17 years after 17 years of shared parenthood. So that I don’t come across as a whingeing bitter bitch I will sing my exes praises up front. He was a good dad and an absolute rarity in that the household work was shared totally. In fact sometimes I think he may have done a tad more than me as he was a bit more anal about keeping things clean than I was. I was the tidy one, I liked to put things in their place and by the time that was done the dusting or mopping didn’t get done, so that’s where he stepped in. And it was a good arrangement, we never fought over housework. Neither of us would sit down for a bludge until we both could. It was a respect thing. We didn’t have a bad working relationship at all.
Okay, that’s it for singing his praises because once we split up he became a prick to the ninth degree.
I managed the household chores on my own really with no problem and that was on top of holding down a 30 hour a week job, which pretty soon had to become a 40 hour a week job. My kids learnt from a very young age to take responsibility for their own rooms and washing and for a while there I even had them cooking one night a week each. Mind you, their rooms were like bombsites and my coping strategy for that was just to close the door. All that hard yakka was easy compared to the emotional strain of going it alone.
What I missed the most about sharing parenthood was being able to workshop the many crisis my teenage children encountered. Like I said, the man that might have been father of the year on any one of the 17 years he was around turned into a complete prick when we separated, and not only did he offer no physical or emotional support, he was counter-productive and just plain nasty and negative when in the early days of our split I tried turning to him for help or support. Take the night I got the 3am call from the PA hospital when number two son was involved in a bad motor vehicle accident. When I rang to let him know the next morning his response was. Yeah, well, what do you want me to do about it? You’ve got the picture. Mine was not a case of a marriage split where the parents soldiered on and worked together to honour their roles as parents as I see so many other split families manage admirably. I truly became a single parent, it was as if the father of my children had died, except that occasionally he would rear his ugly head and try to make a go of re-establishing a relationship with the kids, but inevitably shoot himself in the foot in the process and one way or another, stuff things up. Until the next time. Okay, truly no more bitching about the ex.
So, after a few years of my trying to get things working functionally a counsellor advised me to stop trying and move on. And it was like stopping hitting my head against a wall. Everything actually became a lot easier, a lot calmer and a lot more functional. Except that I continued to desperately miss that other half, that confidant, when trouble hit. I had my mum, but it wasn’t too many years before she became very ill and I was mindful of introducing any unnecessary stress into her life so I tended to really only share the good and proud moments with her until she passed away.
I was well and truly a working single parent. So, the thought of introducing another man in to my life, or my children’s, didn’t/couldn’t even enter my head for about the first five or six years of my singledom. My hands and head were just so full of everything. My sons who were 15 and 17 went off the rails completely and really acted out the bewilderment and hurt they were feeling at being deserted. The police were regular visitors at my door and I was a regular visitor at the school office. My daughters. 14 and 11 hurt just as much but it was acted out with open sadness and a heap of internal dilemma for them. I just didn’t have the head space to let someone into my life or the kids. And anyway, I felt my kids were no-one else’s responsibility but my own. There is no way I would have ever expected a man to assume responsibility for my children.
Which brings me to my current state of perplexion; am I unusual or ridiculously old fashioned with the above reaction? Have I taken my independence and my responsibilities to the extreme? Am I missing something? Has something changed with the next generation of single mothers?
I ask because both my sons, now 28 and 26 years, have girlfriends who have daughters from previous relationships. Neither biological father seems to be taking emotional or financial responsibility for their children and both my sons have stepped up to the mark, over and above the call of duty I believe, and taken on the responsibility of these beautiful little girls. And that’s all very well, I am proud that they have grown into men that would willingly do this. One even has the little girl’s name tattooed on his leg along-side his biological daughter’s, her half sister’s, name. He has supported that little girl since a week after meeting her mother over three years ago.
As I say, it is great for all concerned that my boys are caring, supportive and decent men in both the little girl’s lives and their partners. You would think a young, single stay-at-home mum would be well pleased with their second chance.
Apparently not.
One of my son’s was recently threatened by his partner that if he couldn’t earn more money she would leave him. This is the same girl I had to counsel out of leaving him nine months ago when he plummeted into depression and self-medication when he lost his job.
Now, the second son has been told by his partner that if he wasn’t such a good help with her daughter he would have been ditched. The same girl complains when he occasionally wants to go fishing with his brother, or when he wants to spend time away from her and her daughter to pursue a creative interest of his own.
So, what’s happening here? I really am perplexed.
Have my son’s, through lacking self-esteem as a result of the shitty example of a relationship they’ve been exposed to - or perhaps more to the point the desertion they suffered, picked girls who have no concept of what respect for another person - let alone someone they’re supposed to love, is? Or are they just unlucky in their choice? Or is this the new woman?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Last leg
Phew, after a nervous few hours this morning, I've found that the Sydney airport has resumed normal flights so my return trip will not be interrupted after all. Not so for my daughter Nina who is currently waiting for flights to return to normal from Tassie. The volcanic ash from the Chilean volcano not quite dispersed there yet. She and her husband have had a terrible time of it in my absence and are there attending Alan's mum's funeral. Such a devastating loss for his family, Liz was only just 50. I remember my mum one day in palliative care when she'd had a rare moment of feeling sorry for herself she said, and i'm not sure who she was appealing to, 'but I'm only 74.' Yes, indeed. Cheated of seeing great grandchildren and of enjoying the quiet comfortable life she had achieved and which she so deserved after being such a hard worker all her life. Liz, who bought up three kids mostly on her own, another battler, cruelly cheated and missing so many of the things she deserved to enjoy. And of course her kids, missing her with all that's ahead of them. Ups and downs. RIP Liz.
So, I am hoping Nina and Alan get on a flight soon, and not just because Nina had arranged to pick me up from the airport on Thursday morning, but because I just want to give her and Alan the biggest hug I can muster. And just be there for them.
That aside, and also put aside my boring gastric complaints, this holiday has been brilliant. I confess to being nervous about traveling with a friend after my experience in New York a couple of years ago, but Merryon and I got along brilliantly. In three weeks together we never uttered a cross word, or even muttered under our breath for that matter. Not one disagreement. But we kind of knew things should be okay. We've known each other for 11 years. We started work together at the Queensland Writers Centre in 2000, along with a couple of other brilliant ladies, Sharon Dunne, Vanessa Whitelaw, Kat Pitt, Sam Bake, and we all worked there for 5 years together and have all remained the best of friends. Mez and I are very much on the same page so in our early discussions of the trip we always agreed on where we wanted to go and what we wanted to see. We also were on the same budget, and I think this was a very vital ingredient for success. I think the best example of our being like minded was when we'd finally arrived on the coast at Puerto Escondido, I'd been battling with the aforementioned gastric complaints and really, being a tourist is bloody exhausting, and we decided to head to some high end accommodation right on the beach at Mazunte and just chill for 4 days. Omg, what a joy that was. And what a relief to slow down. mazunte and the place we stayed, at really low prices, was just perfect. It was a break my system needed and a holiday within a holiday we both needed and deserved.
Our last stop was Oaxaca, where we had 5 days. Oaxaca was lovely. One day we did a cooking class with the chef of the restaurant connected to the B&B where we stayed. It was just Mez and I who did the class and we started in the markets where our teacher Pilar gave us a rundown of local ingredients, and a bit of oaxacan cooking history. Sadly up until this point I can't say I'd been enjoying Mexican fare, or anything much for that matter. The Mexican food I'd had in Rosarito Beach at the start of my trip was very mediocre, and then once I'd gotten the bug, I couldn't even bear to smell anything that remotely resembled the food I'd had there. But I was optimistic that by seeing the produce bought and cooked fresh it might take my culinary experience of Mexico to a different level. But not entirely confident. As even as we were helping to chop and grind herbs and chilis I still wasn't enthusiastic about eating anything. But finally we sat down to what we'd prepared. And I was blown away. It was all so delicious. I was so glad we'd done the course, and I'd had the opportunity to be in Pilar's home and see the cooking done by an expert who was passionate about food and her history.
The bug has come and gone, and come again and I will be getting checked out on my return, thanks to my friend Jaya who has put me onto a good doctor. It takes a bit to convince me to get to a doctor but I think if I can't take a recommendation from my old hippy yoga teacher, and faithful follower of my blogs, who could I listen to. Xx Jaya.
Oaxaca was also fantastic for markets and Artisan Co-ops. And like everything in Mexico, so cheap. My bags are literally bulging with little goodies for my loved ones, and I'm embarrassed at how much I've bought myself. But as my good mate Mez agreed, we deserve it!!!!!!
Mez headed off to the next leg of her journey at 6.15 this morning. She is off to Miami to catch up with a good friend who has just has twin boys, and then another week in NYC, with her new friend Al. How romantic... So excited for her.
And I am killing a couple of hours before check out time at the wonderful B&B we first stayed in at Mexico City, the red tree house. What an example of hospitality and warmth. Run by half a dozen or so gorgeous men, I think I would have to vote it the best all rounder out of all the great places we've stayed. When we arrived yesterday, after being away on our 2 weeks of exploring the rest of Mexico, Victor, one of our hosts was there to open the gate for us with a big smile on his face and a hug and a kiss. He took our bags and as we passed through the courtyard offered us a beer. Every evening at this place the hosts provide complimentary beers and wines. And every evening we met someone new, and sometimes we caught up with familiar faces. A great place that I recommend entirely.
In fact, I recommend Mexico entirely (maybe not so much the north end). Airfares, a little bit dear, but once you're here it's cheap as chips and you get a lot of bang for your buck. Take buses once your here so you can really see the place. Although I wouldn't recommend the 13 hour overnight one we did from San Cristobal to Puerto Escondido, try to get a Plane if you're going that way!
The place oozes with history and culture. Fascinating.
But boy, I can't wait to get home.
this picture taken in Mexico City where students not once but twice, targeted us for a project they were doing on Tourism. With clumsy English they asked us questions like where were we from, what attracted us to Mexico etc etc.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
So, I am hoping Nina and Alan get on a flight soon, and not just because Nina had arranged to pick me up from the airport on Thursday morning, but because I just want to give her and Alan the biggest hug I can muster. And just be there for them.
That aside, and also put aside my boring gastric complaints, this holiday has been brilliant. I confess to being nervous about traveling with a friend after my experience in New York a couple of years ago, but Merryon and I got along brilliantly. In three weeks together we never uttered a cross word, or even muttered under our breath for that matter. Not one disagreement. But we kind of knew things should be okay. We've known each other for 11 years. We started work together at the Queensland Writers Centre in 2000, along with a couple of other brilliant ladies, Sharon Dunne, Vanessa Whitelaw, Kat Pitt, Sam Bake, and we all worked there for 5 years together and have all remained the best of friends. Mez and I are very much on the same page so in our early discussions of the trip we always agreed on where we wanted to go and what we wanted to see. We also were on the same budget, and I think this was a very vital ingredient for success. I think the best example of our being like minded was when we'd finally arrived on the coast at Puerto Escondido, I'd been battling with the aforementioned gastric complaints and really, being a tourist is bloody exhausting, and we decided to head to some high end accommodation right on the beach at Mazunte and just chill for 4 days. Omg, what a joy that was. And what a relief to slow down. mazunte and the place we stayed, at really low prices, was just perfect. It was a break my system needed and a holiday within a holiday we both needed and deserved.
Our last stop was Oaxaca, where we had 5 days. Oaxaca was lovely. One day we did a cooking class with the chef of the restaurant connected to the B&B where we stayed. It was just Mez and I who did the class and we started in the markets where our teacher Pilar gave us a rundown of local ingredients, and a bit of oaxacan cooking history. Sadly up until this point I can't say I'd been enjoying Mexican fare, or anything much for that matter. The Mexican food I'd had in Rosarito Beach at the start of my trip was very mediocre, and then once I'd gotten the bug, I couldn't even bear to smell anything that remotely resembled the food I'd had there. But I was optimistic that by seeing the produce bought and cooked fresh it might take my culinary experience of Mexico to a different level. But not entirely confident. As even as we were helping to chop and grind herbs and chilis I still wasn't enthusiastic about eating anything. But finally we sat down to what we'd prepared. And I was blown away. It was all so delicious. I was so glad we'd done the course, and I'd had the opportunity to be in Pilar's home and see the cooking done by an expert who was passionate about food and her history.
The bug has come and gone, and come again and I will be getting checked out on my return, thanks to my friend Jaya who has put me onto a good doctor. It takes a bit to convince me to get to a doctor but I think if I can't take a recommendation from my old hippy yoga teacher, and faithful follower of my blogs, who could I listen to. Xx Jaya.
Oaxaca was also fantastic for markets and Artisan Co-ops. And like everything in Mexico, so cheap. My bags are literally bulging with little goodies for my loved ones, and I'm embarrassed at how much I've bought myself. But as my good mate Mez agreed, we deserve it!!!!!!
Mez headed off to the next leg of her journey at 6.15 this morning. She is off to Miami to catch up with a good friend who has just has twin boys, and then another week in NYC, with her new friend Al. How romantic... So excited for her.
And I am killing a couple of hours before check out time at the wonderful B&B we first stayed in at Mexico City, the red tree house. What an example of hospitality and warmth. Run by half a dozen or so gorgeous men, I think I would have to vote it the best all rounder out of all the great places we've stayed. When we arrived yesterday, after being away on our 2 weeks of exploring the rest of Mexico, Victor, one of our hosts was there to open the gate for us with a big smile on his face and a hug and a kiss. He took our bags and as we passed through the courtyard offered us a beer. Every evening at this place the hosts provide complimentary beers and wines. And every evening we met someone new, and sometimes we caught up with familiar faces. A great place that I recommend entirely.
In fact, I recommend Mexico entirely (maybe not so much the north end). Airfares, a little bit dear, but once you're here it's cheap as chips and you get a lot of bang for your buck. Take buses once your here so you can really see the place. Although I wouldn't recommend the 13 hour overnight one we did from San Cristobal to Puerto Escondido, try to get a Plane if you're going that way!
The place oozes with history and culture. Fascinating.
But boy, I can't wait to get home.
this picture taken in Mexico City where students not once but twice, targeted us for a project they were doing on Tourism. With clumsy English they asked us questions like where were we from, what attracted us to Mexico etc etc.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday, June 20, 2011
Mexico in word bangs:
Leaving Oaxaca today, to Mexico City for the night, then home. Here's a little summary of 4 weeks in Mexico.
Random fireworks, cracked footpaths, brooms, girls in jeans, scooters, no helmets, crazy drivers, horns, one way streets, abandoned buildings, crumbling buildings, beautiful buildings, flowers, style, dogs, music, shrines, shoe shiners, men in nice leather shoes, adorable children, respected elders, packing, unpacking, chickens, pigs, turkeys, mules, jungles, rituals, thatched roofs, Pemex, tucans, peaches, big bummed mannequins, austerity, incense, tequila, mezcal, police with big guns, jewelry, stinky water, bottled water, pissing men, kissing couples, nursing mothers, beggars, used toilet paper bins, chocolate, coffee, big breakfasts, tipping, markets, protests, colours, heat, wifi, coronas, margaritas, where you from? pineapples, street traders, coca cola, windey roads, church bells, guacamole, cactus, bargains, V-dubs, pesos, gracias, Americans, MBA (Mexican boy alert - oolie droolie) long bus rides, history, chili, vast, art, wild beaches, revolution, AWESOME.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Random fireworks, cracked footpaths, brooms, girls in jeans, scooters, no helmets, crazy drivers, horns, one way streets, abandoned buildings, crumbling buildings, beautiful buildings, flowers, style, dogs, music, shrines, shoe shiners, men in nice leather shoes, adorable children, respected elders, packing, unpacking, chickens, pigs, turkeys, mules, jungles, rituals, thatched roofs, Pemex, tucans, peaches, big bummed mannequins, austerity, incense, tequila, mezcal, police with big guns, jewelry, stinky water, bottled water, pissing men, kissing couples, nursing mothers, beggars, used toilet paper bins, chocolate, coffee, big breakfasts, tipping, markets, protests, colours, heat, wifi, coronas, margaritas, where you from? pineapples, street traders, coca cola, windey roads, church bells, guacamole, cactus, bargains, V-dubs, pesos, gracias, Americans, MBA (Mexican boy alert - oolie droolie) long bus rides, history, chili, vast, art, wild beaches, revolution, AWESOME.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday, June 13, 2011
Hell on wheels
Just a couple of things further to my last blog about the Mayan Villages we visited. All through our travels of Mexico we have seen a huge amount of churches and crosses. Randomly through the country side we saw crosses. I'd been thinking, wow, those Catholics sure did the work on these people, but that's not necessarily so. The cross for the Mayans means life. Back at the Mayan ruins we visited the cross featured predominantly in their architecture, as windows. It also means wind. It was somehow comforting to learn this.
Also, we visited two villages. We spent most of the tour in the first one, Chamula and most of my last blog was about this village. The second one we really only visited one of their churches but Ceaser pointed out some of the differences as we stood in their church. For a start, here we saw a group of half a dozen women waiting for a bible class. This village had taken on a lot more of the Catholic religion than the first village we visited. This church was oozing with flowers, again it was beautiful. These people believed in weddings and only one wife. Both villages had their own dress. Chamula women wore heavy black wool skirts and a blue shawl while the women of Zinacantan wore beautiful colorful embroidered shawls. It was said by outsiders that Chamula people were lazy and dirty and the Zinacantan people far more industrious and clean living. But there was absolutely no animosity between the two villages. When their leaders visited each other, they would swap hats.
Also, there were a few more instances of western influence. For example, parked on the perimeter of the village square were all the youths in their cars, the familiar doof doof emanating from their interiors. And Ceaser said, yes, they get the Internet, they are in touch with the world out there. I asked if the youth rebelled against their culture. Si, some do he said. But they always come back.
Interestingly, that night I read the Dalai Lama's status update on Facebook; if I have belief in any religion it is most definitely Buddhism. It read; Because of the great differences in our ways of thinking, it is inevitable that we have different religions and faiths. Each has its own beauty. And it is much better that we live together on the basis of mutual respect and mutual admiration.
Yep.
From that wonderful day the next phase of our journey is downright horrible. We took a night bus from San Cristobal to Puerto Escondido. A whole different kettle of fish to the day trips we have taken. Plus, guess what... I am still plagued with abdominal cramps and diaoreah. Yep. 13 hours of anxiety that any moment I am going to have to dash to that little cubicle of hell at the back of the bus. After 6 hours of travel,we left at about 7pm, I realize in typical style I am not going to sleep either so I take a sleeping tablet. And I mange to doze intermittently for three hours. Waking every time the bus stopped and took on, or let off, more passengers. Gee, that was a long 13 hours. But at least the seats on a bus are more comfortable than a plane. We arrive at Puerto Escondido early in the morning and we are lucky it's off season and our hotel lets us check in straight away.
Puerto Escondido has a reputation as a surfie town. Mez and I knew we wanted a beach break and we also knew that places like Cancun weren't our cup of tea. We suspected that puerto Escondido might not be either, but we wanted beach and there we were. We had investigated a few other places nearby but this was where the bus dropped us so we would play it by ear. puerto Escondido was like a coastal ghost town. It was very quiet. We could imagine what it would be like in busier times and although it was okay I think we both felt that Mexico must have something more up our alley. Perhaps it was the two police that sat in a shaded enclosure with big guns resting on their laps that made us feel this way, and the fact that Lonely Planet had advised the biggest concern in Puerto Escondido was the police who would get you for something as minor as making out on the beach. We should be so lucky ;)
Finally able to access the hotels wifi that afternoon we continued our research and settled on a place again recommended by Mez's brother; Manutze about 50 minute drive from Puerto Escondido. Being the off season accommodation was cheap and we were able to book a high end place for $60 each a night.
OMG!!! the cabbie dropped us off and we walked up to what was reception and the general lounge and restaurant area. My breath was taken away, and at a totally different end of the tangent to my previous most exciting moment of the trip, I thought this could well be the highlight of my trip... I am such a beach person.
The view from our room's verandah.
We've booked four nights here and we're on day two. It was a rest we both needed. A holiday within a holiday. Traveling is really exhausting (oh, poor us), truly it is. And with being sick and all I really thought 4 days at the beach was just what I needed. My dear old mum always maintained the beach is a cure all for everything. Well she's right. I'm real good now, and all those kilos I've lost over the last 3 weeks are fast going back on with Coronas by the pool! I just hope the 200 steps we have to climb to get to our beautiful beach do something to negate at least half those beers.
They promised us a storm yesterday but it never came, as I write there is thunder rumbling, maybe tonight...
One more day and night here and we're off to Oaxaca - the final leg of this wonderful, wonderful trip.
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Also, we visited two villages. We spent most of the tour in the first one, Chamula and most of my last blog was about this village. The second one we really only visited one of their churches but Ceaser pointed out some of the differences as we stood in their church. For a start, here we saw a group of half a dozen women waiting for a bible class. This village had taken on a lot more of the Catholic religion than the first village we visited. This church was oozing with flowers, again it was beautiful. These people believed in weddings and only one wife. Both villages had their own dress. Chamula women wore heavy black wool skirts and a blue shawl while the women of Zinacantan wore beautiful colorful embroidered shawls. It was said by outsiders that Chamula people were lazy and dirty and the Zinacantan people far more industrious and clean living. But there was absolutely no animosity between the two villages. When their leaders visited each other, they would swap hats.
Also, there were a few more instances of western influence. For example, parked on the perimeter of the village square were all the youths in their cars, the familiar doof doof emanating from their interiors. And Ceaser said, yes, they get the Internet, they are in touch with the world out there. I asked if the youth rebelled against their culture. Si, some do he said. But they always come back.
Interestingly, that night I read the Dalai Lama's status update on Facebook; if I have belief in any religion it is most definitely Buddhism. It read; Because of the great differences in our ways of thinking, it is inevitable that we have different religions and faiths. Each has its own beauty. And it is much better that we live together on the basis of mutual respect and mutual admiration.
Yep.
From that wonderful day the next phase of our journey is downright horrible. We took a night bus from San Cristobal to Puerto Escondido. A whole different kettle of fish to the day trips we have taken. Plus, guess what... I am still plagued with abdominal cramps and diaoreah. Yep. 13 hours of anxiety that any moment I am going to have to dash to that little cubicle of hell at the back of the bus. After 6 hours of travel,we left at about 7pm, I realize in typical style I am not going to sleep either so I take a sleeping tablet. And I mange to doze intermittently for three hours. Waking every time the bus stopped and took on, or let off, more passengers. Gee, that was a long 13 hours. But at least the seats on a bus are more comfortable than a plane. We arrive at Puerto Escondido early in the morning and we are lucky it's off season and our hotel lets us check in straight away.
Puerto Escondido has a reputation as a surfie town. Mez and I knew we wanted a beach break and we also knew that places like Cancun weren't our cup of tea. We suspected that puerto Escondido might not be either, but we wanted beach and there we were. We had investigated a few other places nearby but this was where the bus dropped us so we would play it by ear. puerto Escondido was like a coastal ghost town. It was very quiet. We could imagine what it would be like in busier times and although it was okay I think we both felt that Mexico must have something more up our alley. Perhaps it was the two police that sat in a shaded enclosure with big guns resting on their laps that made us feel this way, and the fact that Lonely Planet had advised the biggest concern in Puerto Escondido was the police who would get you for something as minor as making out on the beach. We should be so lucky ;)
Finally able to access the hotels wifi that afternoon we continued our research and settled on a place again recommended by Mez's brother; Manutze about 50 minute drive from Puerto Escondido. Being the off season accommodation was cheap and we were able to book a high end place for $60 each a night.
OMG!!! the cabbie dropped us off and we walked up to what was reception and the general lounge and restaurant area. My breath was taken away, and at a totally different end of the tangent to my previous most exciting moment of the trip, I thought this could well be the highlight of my trip... I am such a beach person.
The view from our room's verandah.
We've booked four nights here and we're on day two. It was a rest we both needed. A holiday within a holiday. Traveling is really exhausting (oh, poor us), truly it is. And with being sick and all I really thought 4 days at the beach was just what I needed. My dear old mum always maintained the beach is a cure all for everything. Well she's right. I'm real good now, and all those kilos I've lost over the last 3 weeks are fast going back on with Coronas by the pool! I just hope the 200 steps we have to climb to get to our beautiful beach do something to negate at least half those beers.
They promised us a storm yesterday but it never came, as I write there is thunder rumbling, maybe tonight...
One more day and night here and we're off to Oaxaca - the final leg of this wonderful, wonderful trip.
Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Strong proud people resisting conquest
The bells toll and we get out of bed, dress comfortably and head to the end of our street where the main plaza is. We find what we figure is the kiosk where the tour leaves from and sit down with our coffee and coconut cookie fresh from the bakery and wait. We are early. We finish our breakfast and we're not convinced we're in the right place. We ask the info attendant in the kiosk. He's not sure what we're on about until we mention the name of the tour guide the lonely planet mentioned. Si, si. He points us in the right direction, the meeting place has changed.
We loiter in front of the cathedral where the attendant pointed. We're accosted by more sellers, they look familiar, they tried us yesterday. We're still not sure we're in the right place or if this tour is going to happen when a gentleman approaches us and hands us a pamphlet promoting a culturally responsible tour. We recognize the tour guide's name on it. Si, si, we are waiting for you!! He says come back at 9.30am. We do, and we are off along with another lady, an Argentinian named Luciana. Just the three of us.
The guide, Ceaser, has given us a brief on where we'll be going; two different villages, Chamula and Zinacantan, and what we'll be seeing. He warns us there will be times when we are not allowed to take photos. The Mayan villagers are superstitious about the 'evil eye' of the camera, and most definitely we are not to take pictures of any of the rituals we may witness on the tour. Or any of the village leaders. However, he adds, i am going to take you into the home of some natives and they are fine with you to takes some photos. All good, we are more than happy to comply. In fact we feel incredibly privileged to be welcomed to these villages. Unlike an American tourist Ceaser tells us about, who sneakily filmed a ritual from waist height, and then posted it on YouTube saying it was an exorcism. Ceaser, although maintaining tolerance of all peoples, obviously has little time or respect for Americans primarily and understandably because they have no respect for these villagers beliefs and cultures. They want to change them, believing their religions; Jehovahs witness, Pentecostal, Mormons etc are the only ones. Fancy that. Our guide believes ignorance is the biggest enemy these people face and this is why he runs these tours. I am enthralled, everything he tells us is fascinating and I soon realize I'm not going to remember half it so like a nerd I ask if I can take notes.
There are many things I remember without the notes though, because they resonated with me. Like their natural therapies, the way their women give birth, their belief that children with autism benefit from swimming with Dolphins and riding horses, they have a belief in chiropractors, herbs - Ceaser plucks one from the bush in front of us and rubs it between his fingers, this one he says giving us a sniff, is for digestion. Ah, just what I need! Organically grown veges, and most of all, their thing about negative energies being responsible for illness. I've long held that theory. They believe everything has a soul. And when trauma strikes that soul goes away. Or when negativity strikes, that soul goes away. Even when babies experience a fright, for example from one of the many loud fireworks they use in their rituals, it's soul goes away and to scoop it back, they perform this rocking, swooping action low to the ground of where the incident occurred. And a more heavy duty approach for adults who suffer a trauma, say a broken leg, (such accidents are usually a punishment) a shaman will use a chicken to pray for that persons spirit to return and consequently their return to health and wellbeing. They wring a chicken's neck until it is dead. Then they run the dead chicken over the victim's body. then they boil it. the victim eats the chicken's head and then the chickens bones are buried at the place where the accident occurred. Fascinating, I can't say that's my method for getting rid of negative energies. I'm more into mentally shedding them from my life. I guess as I am really ye of little, or any, faith in any religion I'm a believer in our minds having the power to overcome such adversities. And as our guide Ceaser says, the Mayans are not knocking down anyone's doors to convert them to their way of thinking. They don't judge the westerners who visit their village. They accept that the tattooed and pierced young travelers or the lipsticked and scantily dressed women have their own cultures.
I hope I am recounting what I learned with accuracy, I mean no disrespect if I haven't got it quite right, there was so much to take in.
We learnt that the villages are not governed by the Mexican government. They have their own police and justice system. Their jail is right in the centre of their market area. Its very small, there is very little crime. Men sent to jail are exposed to the public in this busy market place, women are not. If a man is put in jail for beating his wife he would serve one day, maybe three. If he reoffends he would do one year community service. Third time, he is expelled from the community, never to return. Ceaser tells us that most of the mayans selling in San Cristobal are villagers who have been expelled or who have left.
These villages do not comply with the daylight saving the rest of Mexico does, believing no-one has the power to change the time (hear hear, it has never sat well with me that 'we' want to change nature - just another example of mans desire to conquer all). in fact, they have done a dam good job of resisting any changes to their culture at all. They are an impressive strong people. That is until we come to Coca Cola...
Ceaser takes us into one of their cathedrals, where we can take a pic from outside...
We walk inside and I am just blown away. Scattered all over the floor are pine needles, the smell is divine. There is so much activity. Small groups cluster together to fill the cathedral. Groups of candles are burning on the floor everywhere. The numbers and colour of candles is very significant. 3 and 13 particularly significant. All along one wall in glass cases, like mannequins in a store, are their saints. Every other day there are different rituals, sometimes many different rituals. outside, and all through our visit, we can hear fireworks going off. These are a part of their rituals. Also there are offerings to their saints; plants, flowers, eggs, corn and wait for it, Coca Cola. Yes, Coca Cola, and not just Coca Cola, there is Fanta and other coloured drinks. These drinks apparently have gained as much kudos with the saints as the naturally colored corns (black, red, green and yellow) of old. All over the village we have seen crates both full of coke and full of empties. The colors of the corn is also represented in the candles the shaman use when they are doing their prayers. For example if they burn a red, a yellow and a black candle they are praying for justice. And all different combinations and numbers represent different things they might be praying for like; rain, good crops etc etc.
Caesar invites us to walk through the groups and observe what's going on but we already feel way too intrusive, so we just watch from the distance. We know Ceaser has these people's approval to be here with us so we feel more comfortable and respectful alongside him.
I wish I could remember the significance of everything we were told, but there was so much to take in. I'm sure Caeser could have spent days with us and we'd still be enthralled. And There is still so much more in my notebook too.
Like the saint for getting girls boyfriends, as they believe until you are married you are incomplete. (If the saint fails the girl, she punishes him by hanging him upside down in the fridge! hehe, a sense of humor too).
And the bit about diagnosing medical conditions with an egg. Quite a process I can tell you about sometime if you want to hear.
And the fact their last mayor was non-indigenous; voted in by the villagers.
And one of the things I loved most about these people; they believe no-one owns the land. And no-one is better than anyone else or wrong or right in what they believe.
But really, I must wrap up this long blog, I could go on forever. This was easily the best most exciting day of my trip.
Oh, one last thing, they believe burping also expels negativity.
Buuurrrrrrp,
Scuse ;)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
We loiter in front of the cathedral where the attendant pointed. We're accosted by more sellers, they look familiar, they tried us yesterday. We're still not sure we're in the right place or if this tour is going to happen when a gentleman approaches us and hands us a pamphlet promoting a culturally responsible tour. We recognize the tour guide's name on it. Si, si, we are waiting for you!! He says come back at 9.30am. We do, and we are off along with another lady, an Argentinian named Luciana. Just the three of us.
The guide, Ceaser, has given us a brief on where we'll be going; two different villages, Chamula and Zinacantan, and what we'll be seeing. He warns us there will be times when we are not allowed to take photos. The Mayan villagers are superstitious about the 'evil eye' of the camera, and most definitely we are not to take pictures of any of the rituals we may witness on the tour. Or any of the village leaders. However, he adds, i am going to take you into the home of some natives and they are fine with you to takes some photos. All good, we are more than happy to comply. In fact we feel incredibly privileged to be welcomed to these villages. Unlike an American tourist Ceaser tells us about, who sneakily filmed a ritual from waist height, and then posted it on YouTube saying it was an exorcism. Ceaser, although maintaining tolerance of all peoples, obviously has little time or respect for Americans primarily and understandably because they have no respect for these villagers beliefs and cultures. They want to change them, believing their religions; Jehovahs witness, Pentecostal, Mormons etc are the only ones. Fancy that. Our guide believes ignorance is the biggest enemy these people face and this is why he runs these tours. I am enthralled, everything he tells us is fascinating and I soon realize I'm not going to remember half it so like a nerd I ask if I can take notes.
There are many things I remember without the notes though, because they resonated with me. Like their natural therapies, the way their women give birth, their belief that children with autism benefit from swimming with Dolphins and riding horses, they have a belief in chiropractors, herbs - Ceaser plucks one from the bush in front of us and rubs it between his fingers, this one he says giving us a sniff, is for digestion. Ah, just what I need! Organically grown veges, and most of all, their thing about negative energies being responsible for illness. I've long held that theory. They believe everything has a soul. And when trauma strikes that soul goes away. Or when negativity strikes, that soul goes away. Even when babies experience a fright, for example from one of the many loud fireworks they use in their rituals, it's soul goes away and to scoop it back, they perform this rocking, swooping action low to the ground of where the incident occurred. And a more heavy duty approach for adults who suffer a trauma, say a broken leg, (such accidents are usually a punishment) a shaman will use a chicken to pray for that persons spirit to return and consequently their return to health and wellbeing. They wring a chicken's neck until it is dead. Then they run the dead chicken over the victim's body. then they boil it. the victim eats the chicken's head and then the chickens bones are buried at the place where the accident occurred. Fascinating, I can't say that's my method for getting rid of negative energies. I'm more into mentally shedding them from my life. I guess as I am really ye of little, or any, faith in any religion I'm a believer in our minds having the power to overcome such adversities. And as our guide Ceaser says, the Mayans are not knocking down anyone's doors to convert them to their way of thinking. They don't judge the westerners who visit their village. They accept that the tattooed and pierced young travelers or the lipsticked and scantily dressed women have their own cultures.
I hope I am recounting what I learned with accuracy, I mean no disrespect if I haven't got it quite right, there was so much to take in.
We learnt that the villages are not governed by the Mexican government. They have their own police and justice system. Their jail is right in the centre of their market area. Its very small, there is very little crime. Men sent to jail are exposed to the public in this busy market place, women are not. If a man is put in jail for beating his wife he would serve one day, maybe three. If he reoffends he would do one year community service. Third time, he is expelled from the community, never to return. Ceaser tells us that most of the mayans selling in San Cristobal are villagers who have been expelled or who have left.
These villages do not comply with the daylight saving the rest of Mexico does, believing no-one has the power to change the time (hear hear, it has never sat well with me that 'we' want to change nature - just another example of mans desire to conquer all). in fact, they have done a dam good job of resisting any changes to their culture at all. They are an impressive strong people. That is until we come to Coca Cola...
Ceaser takes us into one of their cathedrals, where we can take a pic from outside...
We walk inside and I am just blown away. Scattered all over the floor are pine needles, the smell is divine. There is so much activity. Small groups cluster together to fill the cathedral. Groups of candles are burning on the floor everywhere. The numbers and colour of candles is very significant. 3 and 13 particularly significant. All along one wall in glass cases, like mannequins in a store, are their saints. Every other day there are different rituals, sometimes many different rituals. outside, and all through our visit, we can hear fireworks going off. These are a part of their rituals. Also there are offerings to their saints; plants, flowers, eggs, corn and wait for it, Coca Cola. Yes, Coca Cola, and not just Coca Cola, there is Fanta and other coloured drinks. These drinks apparently have gained as much kudos with the saints as the naturally colored corns (black, red, green and yellow) of old. All over the village we have seen crates both full of coke and full of empties. The colors of the corn is also represented in the candles the shaman use when they are doing their prayers. For example if they burn a red, a yellow and a black candle they are praying for justice. And all different combinations and numbers represent different things they might be praying for like; rain, good crops etc etc.
Caesar invites us to walk through the groups and observe what's going on but we already feel way too intrusive, so we just watch from the distance. We know Ceaser has these people's approval to be here with us so we feel more comfortable and respectful alongside him.
I wish I could remember the significance of everything we were told, but there was so much to take in. I'm sure Caeser could have spent days with us and we'd still be enthralled. And There is still so much more in my notebook too.
Like the saint for getting girls boyfriends, as they believe until you are married you are incomplete. (If the saint fails the girl, she punishes him by hanging him upside down in the fridge! hehe, a sense of humor too).
And the bit about diagnosing medical conditions with an egg. Quite a process I can tell you about sometime if you want to hear.
And the fact their last mayor was non-indigenous; voted in by the villagers.
And one of the things I loved most about these people; they believe no-one owns the land. And no-one is better than anyone else or wrong or right in what they believe.
But really, I must wrap up this long blog, I could go on forever. This was easily the best most exciting day of my trip.
Oh, one last thing, they believe burping also expels negativity.
Buuurrrrrrp,
Scuse ;)
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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