[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 18, 2008
Today, for the second time on this trip, we took the second-class bus from Patzcuaro to the village of Santa Clara del Cobre (“Santa Clara of the Copper”). The artisans of Santa Clara have had a hard year. The village produces the world’s finest hand-hammered copper. But soaring world copper prices have increased material costs, and declines in the U.S. and Mexican economies have hurt sales. A fine, but unsold, piece of hand-hammered copper may represent months of uncompensated labor.
So there were smiles when Chiripa bought some prize-winning pieces at this year’s annual Copper Fair in Santa Clara. We bought the first-place centerpiece in the children’s category,
and the 3rd-place copper pot winner in the “New Entrants” category.
Today we returned to the village to watch the winners receive their prize diplomas, amid great civic pomp and ceremony. Of course, we also bought many other stunning, hand-hammered copper pieces in Santa Clara. We always buy more than we had planned, because it is impossible to resist the timeless warmth of these pieces. In a thousand years, they will be as beautiful and elegant as they are today.
Be sure to check out the copper pieces available for sale on the Chiripa website. You'll find a range of pieces from inexpensive copper boxes to works by some of the maestros of the craft.
[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 17, 2008
The Pre-Hispanic world is everywhere present in Mexico – in the customs and crafts, in the food, in the ancient stone ruins, in the indigenous languages still spoken in many rural villages, and above all in the beautiful faces and forms of the people.
Today, we are traveling outside Patzcuaro, to the Purépecha village of Santa Fe de la Laguna on the far side of the large lake. The village is poor and worn, except for the stunning mosaic mural in the plaza (executed by local artisans).
But down a quiet side street (dirt lane), we find the home of a modern master of the indigenous ceramics craft – Nicholas Fabián. Nicholas and his wife, María, are leaders in the lead-free ceramics movement that is now gaining worldwide recognition. Lead-based glazes pose a serious health hazard to traditional potters and their families. Nicholas and María started using lead-free glazes after María suffered a frightening miscarriage. They made the switch with help from the non-profit organization Barro Sin Plomo (“Clay Without Lead”), which Chiripa helps to support.
A smiling Nicholas, remembering us from past visits, opens the door and ushers us into a lovely interior garden. He points with pride to his latest home improvements – including a new studio and ceramics kiln – made possible by his ceramics sales. Around the studio we see the sublime, hand-etched pots that have made Nicholas’ reputation and built a comfortable life for his family. Nicholas is building on an ancient tradition.
As we make our pottery selections, he shows us tangible evidence of that tradition: a pre-Hispanic ceramic bowl that he recently unearthed, not 2 kilometers away, while digging potter’s clay for his own use. The bowl, though worn by the centuries, is almost fully intact. It is elegantly formed, and stands sturdily on 3 legs. It is made from the same orange-brown clay that Nicholas still uses today. It is a beautiful gift from the past – formed by a kindred artistic spirit who lived in another age.
[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 16, 2008 (Evening)
Night is falling in Patzcuaro. In the blue light of the little shop, within the thick adobe walls, Enrique is perched on a ladder in front of a stack of packaged, hand-woven table linens. The stack lines the wall to a height of 12 feet. There are bright greens and blues, oranges and reds, plaids and stripes – a stunning assortment of colors and patterns. We point to a deep blue tablecloth that sits 10 ft. up the wall. Enrique hands it down to us, and we add it to our growing assortment.
We first met Enrique 3 years ago, when he showed us through his family’s weaving workshop just up the hill. There, artisans wove brightly-colored table linens on heavy wooden hand looms.
Now, in the little retail shop, Enrique helps us choose a good selection of linens from the workshop. His mother and pregnant wife keep track, and add up the bill with a pencil. Enrique finds a large cardboard box, which exactly holds the linens we have chosen. He wraps it in packing tape, and reinforces the corners. I try to pick it up, but lift it only a foot or so. “Don’t worry,” says Enrique (in Spanish), “I will carry it for you.” Before we can refuse, he lifts the heavy and unwieldy box onto his shoulders and we are off.
Somehow, we must get to our hotel at the other side of the plaza. The stone cobbles are rough, and it is starting to rain. But Enrique is undaunted. We are halfway there. Enrique is going strong, but the rain is steady now. At the three-quarter mark, Enrique is starting to show the strain but still refuses assistance. We duck under the arcade to avoid the downpour, but find our way obstructed by evening crowds out for a paseo and snack. Enrique struggles on gamely.
Finally, we reach the hotel lobby and Enrique puts down his burden. When I tell Enrique that I will carry the box the rest of the way to the room, Enrique responds with a look of fierce pride: “No, I will take it.” And he does.
[A small sample of the Patzcuaro table linens are for sale on the Chiripa website.]
August 16, 2008 (Morning)
This morning, we [Chiripa partners] left Guadalajara. We took a taxi to the Central de Autobuses (bus terminal), for our 4 hour bus trip to the town of Patzcuaro in the state of Michoacán. As he unloaded our equipaje, the young and somewhat macho taxi driver asked us where we were going. Michoacán, we said. “There has been trouble in Michoacán lately,” he said in Spanish (an apparent reference to the government crackdown on drug gang violence in some areas), “but don’t worry” he grinned. “We’re not worried,” we replied, as we paid the fare.
Patzcuaro haunts us, and keeps drawing us back. It sits above a lake in the wooded highlands of Michoacán (altitude 7,200 ft.). Mist hangs on the mountains, and fragrant pines are rooted in moist red earth. A sweater feels good in the evening, even in summer, and the air is humid. It takes several days to dry the underwear and socks that we wash in the hotel sink.
Patzcuaro’s first cathedral (still standing) was built from 1540-46, just 50 years after Columbus landed in the “New World,” and a full lifetime before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth. But the formidable ruins of much older buildings stand just down the road in Tzintzuntzan, the capital of the pre-Hispanic Tarascan empire.
Patzcuaro’s central plaza (Plaza de Quiroga) is one of the finest public spaces in the Americas. You might not think so at first, because it is very old and somewhat worn and melancholy, but that is part of its charm. It is not designed to inspire “shock and awe.” It is civilized and serene, especially in the early morning light when people gather there to take their morning exercise laps.
A fine statue of Patzcuaro’s benevolent first bishop, Vasco de Quiroga, stands in the center of a quiet pool and presides over the plaza like a good and wise shepherd.
The rectangular plaza is green and beautifully proportioned, planted with ancient trees painted white at the bottom. It is surrounded by harmonious buildings and arcades dating from the 1600’s. The adobe walls, here and throughout the town, are painted white above and red-earth brown below. Red tile roofs, resting on darkened pine timbers, have sheltered the town’s inhabitants for centuries.
The entrance to our inexpensive but comfortable hotel is under one of the arcades. The sidewalk around the entrance is alive with people buying delicious ice cream and sweets from the street vendors. The sweets attract a swarm of honeybees, who know a good thing when they see it. The vendors and customers don’t seem to notice them.
It is the first day of school, and an elaborate opening ceremony is getting underway in the plaza. School children are arrayed in their spotlessly clean uniforms – white shirts, sweaters (different colors for different grades), dark pants, pleated skirts and white knee socks. The brass band plays, and a school color guard raises the flag.
We can’t stay to take it all in, because we must start our expeditions to surrounding villages to find local crafts for Chiripa – hand-hammered copper, lead-free ceramics, carved cantera stone, pine needle basketry, hand-weaving, corn-husk flowers, and distinctive wood and copper furniture. It promises to be “un buen día.”
From August 15, 2008
When we go on buying trips to Mexico (for Chiripa), we do a lot of walking. We also rely on public transportation – buses and taxis. So we have met a lot of taxi drivers. Each taxi driver in Mexico has his own personal style (the taxi driver is always a “he”). Some are middle-aged and courtly, while others are young and macho. Some are talkative, some not. Most have a rosary or religious token hanging from the rear view mirror. Some wear seat belts, but others (perhaps trusting in the Virgin’s protection) only pretend to be buckling their seat belt when they approach a police car.
Most taxi drivers prefer Mexican traditional or pop music on the radio. But you may hear classical or New Age music, or even Johnnie cash singing “Your Own Personal Jesus.” Many taxi drivers have been in the U.S., but most say they prefer Mexico. As one driver told us on this trip, Mexico is “más bonito” (more beautiful) and “más tranquilo” (more tranquil) than Aurora, Illinois, and you don’t have to spend so much time putting coats on and off.
Mexican taxi drivers usually know exactly how to get where you want to go, (they sometimes they take disconcerting shortcuts that make you wonder, if only for a moment, whether you are being kidnapped). But taxi drivers occasionally have trouble locating the obscure and unmarked family workshops that Chiripa seeks out.
In Guadalajara, we asked our young taxi driver to get us back to our somewhat low-profile downtown hotel during rush hour. He gave the impression that he knew where it was, and we started on our way. We passed, among other things, the statue dedicated to the “Niños heroes” (child heroes) – the young Mexico City military cadets who fought to the death against the invading U.S. Army in 1846, while the main Mexican army abandoned the city. Every Mexican city has a street named “Niños Heroes.” In the Mexican-American War, the U.S. forced Mexico to cede much of its northern territory (including Texas, California, Utah, Colorado, and most of New Mexico and Arizona).
The Guadalajara taxi driver seemed to have a plan, and was making good headway. But eventually he admitted that he didn’t know exactly where our hotel was located. I knew we were in trouble when he asked me which way to go. We were actually pretty close, but on the wrong side of the central plaza, and the downtown streets were choked with traffic. Getting to the other side took, well, a long time....
We crept along -- measuring our progress in feet, not blocks. The young driver maintained a cheerful demeanor, but was sweating with anxiety. We passed the glorious cathedral, as well as the famous hotel established in 1610 (our pace gave us plenty of time to take in the sites). We could easily have made faster progress on foot, but the taxi driver was determined and we didn’t have the heart to stop him short of his goal. As the sun was going down, we finally arrived. The taxi driver beamed, and we paid him extra for his trouble.
[Note: See post on March 10, 2008 for a description of the hotel Chiripa partners were trying to find.]
August 14, 2008
Today we also visited with Martha Pardo, the creative force behind Arte y Mano, which produces charming small painted images on silk. 
Martha (on right), shown here with her assistant Lizette started painting when she was 6, and eventually started selling her work. She found that people loved it, and sales made it possible to work her way through school. Eventually, she started her own company and now sells her images worldwide. We are delighted to feature her work (including small paintings, bookmarks, cards and other items) at Chiripa. [Note: products from Arte Y Mano are not available on the web. Please visit the shop to see our current selection.]
