Friday, July 5, 2013

Piñatas – upping the fun factor at a fiesta

Barlow the Birthday Boy takes a turn
“Batter up!” Oh, wait; wrong culture. 

Taking a careful and considered aim with a brightly decorated stick, the birthday boy swung hard at the piñata. Thud! It sailed into the air, dented, but intact. A family friend manipulated a rope and pulley system, tethering the piñata. His experienced hands jiggled it, pulling it higher, dropping it back down, taunting, teasing. 

Come on!  Hit it.  Hit it. The crowd clapping and singing: Dale! Dale! Dale! 



Paul teasing the older kids with the height
With giggles and shrieks of laughter, a couple of dozen small but very enthusiastic hitters took turns bashing at not just one, but two, birthday piñatas. Bashing until the candy showered onto the ground, then diving into the pile to scoop up a share of the booty. It was a hilarious sight. 

Most of the parents of the various youngsters were also at the birthday party. When I was of birthday party age, I don’t remember my parents attending any festivities involving shrieking, over-sugared children. They wisely said they had to work, or were busy with chores, or doing something really important.  Any excuse would do. Here it’s a festive family affair.

Oscar - putting up the second piñata
Colourful piñatas in fanciful shapes are the centrepieces of birthdays and celebrations in Mexico and most of Latin America. The idea is thought to have originated in China, but many countries, such as India, the Philippines, Japan, and even Denmark, have similar customs.  

In the thirteenth century, the famous explorer-traveller Marco Polo recorded the Chinese customs of covering pottery figures of cows or buffaloes with pretty papers and decorations. During the New Year’s festivities, the figures were struck with sticks, and good luck seeds were spilled on the ground. Over the centuries, the shapes of the containers and the rules for hitting the piñata have changed dramatically.


Woo-hoo - good hit!
Europeans eventually linked the piñata with Lenten celebrations. The first Sunday of Lent became Piñata Sunday, derived from the Italian word pignatta, meaning fragile pot. Traditional piñatas were originally made from a clay pot called la olla and stuffed with treats or fruits. The Lenten celebration slowly transformed into a fiesta, the Dance of the Piñata.

At the beginning of the 16th century, the Spanish missionaries brought their piñata traditions with them to the New World.  However, the Aztec priests already had a similar custom to honour the god of war, Huitzilopochtli. They placed a clay pot adorned with colourful feathers and filled with tiny treasures on a pole in the temple. When broken with a stick or club, the treasures fell to the feet of the god's image as an offering. Much later, the playful Mayans changed the piñata ceremony to a game where blindfolded players hit a clay pot suspended by a string.

A lady-like hitting style!
At the birthday party we attended, no one was blindfolded, and the piñata was manipulated with a rope and pulley, making it more difficult for the older children and easier for the really little ones.  As each person took a turn, the party guests sang a short song. When the song was finished, so was the hitter’s turn until everyone had a chance to bash the piñata. The turns were repeated until someone broke open the cavity containing the treats, spilling them on the ground. 

The laughter and giggles of the players made the day.  Piñatas are a great way to up the fun factor at a birthday party. 

The big payoff!  Candy!


Lawrie and his Spiderman cookie!
Hasta Luego          
Lynda and Lawrie

Here’s one version of the piñata song:
Dale, dale, dale,
no pierdas el tino;
Porque si lo pierdes
pierdes el camino. 
Ya le diste una,
ya le diste dos;
Ya le diste tres,
y tu tiempo se acabó


Hit it, hit it, hit it (or "go, go, go")
don’t lose your aim
because if you lose it (your aim)
you will lose the path. 
You've already hit it once
you’ve already hit it twice
you’ve already hit it three times
and your time is over


Strategy session

Murder. Mayhem. Revenge. Romance.


Friday, June 28, 2013

Feeling good all around (Lawrie’s turn to write)

Captain Lock freezing his ***** off in northern BC.
Last week I had the experience of a lifetime.  I was privileged to participate in the 4th Annual Reeling for Ronnie Fishing Tournament.

Yeah, I know, fishing, no big deal, but this was different. I was with a great bunch of guys in northern British Columbia at the top of the Haida Gwaii (former Queen Charlotte Islands) within view of the Alaska panhandle.  



Charter plane then a helicopter ride to the fishing camp
Getting there was no mean feat, involving a charter plane from Vancouver to Masset, BC, and then a helicopter ride to the camp.

The West Coast Fishing Club is a floating fish camp that could put any five-star resort to shame with amazing service and gourmet meals. For three days, we fished for salmon and halibut in a pristine wilderness surrounded by humpback whales, sea lions and bald eagles.

Lots of Humpback Whales playing around the boat
The fishing camp operates on a catch-and-release program using simple fish hooks, no barbs allowed.  It makes for exciting times as salmon are fighters and frequently a big one will shake the hook loose just as it arrives at the boat!  But usually the guides quickly net the fish, lift them slightly out of the water for weighing, snap a souvenir photo and then release the fish back to the freedom of the ocean.    


Lawrie, Salmon was shipped to his son in Vancouver
For anyone who wishes to keep their catch, the strict limit is two salmon and one halibut per day. The accepted practice is that all large fish are immediately returned to the ocean, as soon as they have been weighed. One of the newest guides, fishing during his free time, caught an eighty-pound salmon that had to be released.  The guides are not allowed to keep anything they catch, plus the fish was so big it was considered too important to remove from the gene pool. The West Coast Fishing Camp takes a very responsible view of sustainability. Every year since they opened, they have returned more hatchlings to the area than fish that have been caught.  

Richard Lock
But here’s the best part about the experience!  This fishing tournament is in honour of Ron Brown, a former Isla Mujeres resident. He and his wife, Gwen, contributed to several charities on the island. Still in his prime, Ron passed away in 2009. The event was created in celebration of Ron’s life. 

The Reeling for Ronnie Fishing Tournament raises funds to pay for tuition and expenses for a select number of female students on Isla Mujeres who wish to attend university or college. Ron’s memory is also preserved in the minds of these young ladies. It just doesn’t get any better.

The only downside to participating in the event is that I live in the tropics twelve months a year. My blood has thinned. Cold! Wow, I don’t think I have ever been this cold. The average daytime temperature was around 12°C (53°F), dropping further at night. I’m just not used to that anymore.

The biggest fish for the day ..... 
Everyone was supplied with a survival suits by the fishing camp operators.  We had to wear them when we were out in the boats, because the ocean temperature is so chilly, the risk of hyperthermia was pretty high if we had experienced an unscheduled dunking. I had three layers of clothes on under my survival suit, and my teeth were clacking together. I guess this means I won’t be moving back to Canada anytime soon. 

Oh well, I will just have to tough it out in Paradise! 

Thanks again, guys, for the great time during the Reeling for Ronnie Fishing Tournament.


Nice warm sunrise on Isla Mujeres, June 2013 

Hasta luego          

Lawrie






Murder. Mayhem. Revenge. Romance.




Friday, June 21, 2013

Horses sweat, men perspire, ladies glow! Adjusting to life in the tropics

Offshore fishing near Isla Mujeres and glowing!
“I’m soaked with sweat!”  

My dad peered over the top of his reading glasses, levelling his gaze at his naïve teenage daughter, “No,” he admonished, “Horses sweat. Men perspire. Ladies glow.”

I guess I was born a horse.  

I am about 99.5% certain that my very proper, very stern and very formidable grandmother, Nellie Blanche Lyons Gobert, taught my father that expression. She passed away when I was about eight, but I still remember her upright bearing and impeccable manners. She was a school principal, one of the first female school principals in Canada. One did not mess with our grandmother!

Nellie Blanche Lyons Gobert about 1915
Unlike my grandmother, I glow like an out-of-control nuclear reactor.  

Starting about now, June, I usually change my clothing two to three times a day. From the skin out – everything!  

Normally, both Lawrie and I putter around the house, fixing this, polishing that, applying a coat of paint to a scuffed wall. Doing little tasks.  Tinkering.  

He manages to maintain his cool, barely breaking a sweat. Pardon me, I meant to say - barely perspiring. I, on the other hand, have a nice, bright pink face and a good, healthy pore-cleansing glow going on. 

Working on our Summerland house entrance, 2006
In Canada, if we were doing a major project like tiling the bathroom or renovating the front entrance, I could work up a really good glow. Living in the tropics, it occurs more frequently.  

Today, on Isla Mujeres, Mexico, I fiddled around with painting one short wall on our upper street-side deck. By the time I had finished, I was soaked through.   

Angel, one of three young guys replacing the netting over our palapas, looked at me with a silly who-me grin on his face, innocently asking: “Tienes mucho calor, amiga?”

Si!  You bet your sweet bippy!  ¡Mucho calor!

The cool dude!  It's May and he's comfy in a thick shirt.
The upside is that mosquitoes can easily locate me. I have a flashing neon-red heat-signature. Free! All-you-can-eat-buffet.  

They bypass Lawrie, preferring to swarm my overheated follicles. If mosquitoes had lips, they would smack them together in anticipation of a feast. 

The local mosquito population is very appreciative of my contribution to their well-being.



Summerland BC - entrance all done!
And to ensure the lovely little mosquitoes don’t over-indulge on my DNA, I spray every bit of my exposed skin with Off Family repelente de insectos.  

In Canada, Lawrie pampered me with nice, expensive perfumes.  They were always a much-appreciated birthday or Christmas gift. Somehow, insect repellent doesn’t have quite the same cachet and isn’t nearly as romantic when received as a gift. 

On some level, I think my grandmother would have been proud of me, remembering that ladies glow, apparently, we don’t sweat. But one thing puzzles me. How did she manage to remain lady-like, raising three active children in the early part of the 1900s when women wore long, hot, cumbersome dresses every day, all day?

Just thinking about that makes me glow.  I think I’ll go and have another refreshing swim in our pool. 

One small wall - and I'm glowing!

Hasta Luego          
Lynda and Lawrie

Friday, June 14, 2013

Some things never change: life in Isla Mujeres Mexico!


Longer days - beautiful weather
Huh!  I’ll be darned!

Scrolling through 20,472 photographs of Isla Mujeres we have taken in the last few years, I realized there definitely is a repeat pattern to life here on the island. 

June is prime time for the boisterous political parades. The campaign for Governor of the State of Quintana Roo was in June 2009. The campaign for Presidente of Isla Mujeres occurred in June 2010, and it is happening again in June 2013. State and federal elections are held every six years, while local elections are held every three years.  The mandate for our local Presidente, Hugo Sanchez, was a bit shorter as the election officials wanted to synchronize the dates statewide.

2009 State elections
The political parades are entertaining, so we don’t mind the noise of the various campaign slogans and accompanying music. The PRI party seems to like rap music similar to Pit Bull, and the PAN soundtrack sounds like One Night in Bangkok, or maybe it’s Putting on the Ritz – one of those.  I find myself humming along as the boom-box golf carts pass by our house, again and again and again.

June is also the time for torrential rainstorms interspersed with silky smooth seas and brilliantly sunny days.  In June 2011, Tropical Storm Arlene paid us a visit, flooding many parts of the island.  

This year, a storm sat over Isla for about a week before grudgingly moving on to Florida, where it became Tropical Storm Andrea - the first named storm of 2013. TS Andrea set rainfall records in various parts of the USA, and probably here on Isla. I have seen reports of up to 2 feet of rain for the week. That’s a lot of water!  

2011 TS Arlene flooded streets in Centro
So much water that two separate sightings of crocodiles swimming on roadways were reported; one in the hotel zone in Cancun, and one in the area by the Hacienda Mundaca Park on Isla.  

Strange areas, such as Captain Tony’s front yard at the higher southern end of the island, were turned into lakes. He and his dog went kayaking - on the front lawn.  

We were wet and cranky, experiencing a bit of cabin fever as we huddled in our house, staring out the rain-drenched windows as sheets of rain obliterated our ocean view. 
 
Lawrie, clearing the street drain near our house
And predictably, every year the heavy rains cause migraine-sized headaches for store and restaurant owners in Centro. Even though we are an island made primarily of sand and coral, the water doesn’t dissipate rapidly enough. The various pumps just can’t handle the flow.  This time, there was also a problem in the electrical panel for the pumps, causing a further delay in reducing the water buildup. Many drainage trenches were clogged with sand and trash.  

In the summer months, we frequently check the two large drains a few hundred feet south of our house. We have, on occasion, been out there in the pouring rain, rakes in hand, clearing the debris, reducing the accumulating water to a few inches instead of a few feet. I wonder do we qualify as city workers? Maybe we will get an invitation to the annual Christmas party?

Swimming with whale sharks, June 2009
On the upside, June is one of our favourite months because the ocean is teeming with sea life. It is turtle mating season, and the beginning of their nesting season. June is also, in my opinion, the best month for enjoying a swim with the whale sharks, those graceful forty-foot long submarines that are in truth neither whale nor shark, but the world’s largest fish. Fewer tourists equal a better experience when swimming with these gorgeous creatures. In June, most Canadians, Americans, and Europeans are enjoying fine weather in their own hometowns. Later in the summer, when crowded cities heat up, we will see another uptick in tourism, particularly from European countries.

Turtle tracks on our beach
June is also the beginning of the migration season for various species of rays, including the Golden Rays and Manta Rays. We were fortunate a few years ago to watch as a large group of rays passed our house on the east side of the island. The females leap high into the air, contracting muscles, and expelling a cylinder-shaped live baby ray. The babies’ wings unfurled as they entered the water, and away they sped following the family group.  Pretty darn cool to see!

It’s comforting to know that some things never change. Next year, we’ll be doing most of the same things again: viewing the turtles’ mating season, swimming with whale sharks, watching for the migration of rays, and enjoying life with our friends and family. 

Ah, beautiful, peaceful June.


Hasta Luego          
Lynda and Lawrie











Sunday, June 9, 2013

Blog Stats - 111 countries as of August 1st, 2013


Top Four: USA, Mexico, Canada and Russia


Algeria
Argentina
Armenia
Aruba
Austria
Australia
Bahamas
Bangladesh
Barbados
Belarus
Belgium
Belize
Bolivia
Brazil
Bulgaria
Cambodia
Canada
Caribbean Netherlands
Czech Republic
Chile
China
Columbia
Costa Rica
Croatia
Curaçao
Cyprus
Czech Republic
Denmark
Djibouti
Dominica
Dominican Republic
Ecuador
El Salvador
France
Georgia
Germany
Guernsey
Greece
Grenada
Guam
Guatemala
Honduras
Hungary
India
Indonesia
Iran
Ireland
Israel
Italy
Jamaica
Japan
Jersey
Jordan
Kazakhstan
Kenya
Kuwait
Kyrgyzstan
Laos
Latvia
Lebanon
Lithuania
Maldives
Malta
Malaysia
Mauritius
Mexico
Moldova
Morocco
Netherlands
Netherlands Antilles
New Zealand
Nicaragua
Northern Mariana Islands
Norway
Pakistan
Paraguay
Peru
Philippines
Poland
Portugal
Puerto Rico
Qatar
Romania
Russia
Saudi Arabia
Senegal
Serbia
Sierra Leone
Singapore
Slovakia
Slovenia
South Africa
South Korea
Spain
Sri Lanka
Sweden
Switzerland
Taiwan
Thailand
Trinidad & Tobago
Turkey
Turks & Caicos Islands
Uganda
Ukraine
United Arab Emirates
UK (Including Scotland, N. Ireland, Wales and England)
United States of America
Uruguay
Uzbekistan
Venezuela
Vietnam

The humble beginnings and true life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mystery Series: Chapter 8

Sparky, my decorated golf cart. Chapter 8 It’s Christmas! “ ¡Feliz Navidad! said Driver. “Merry Christmas, everyone,” Servant said, an...