NEWS FLASH: The truck is getting closer. We'll let you know when to expect to see new product from Mexico on the Chiripa floor!
[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 22: Small Things in Puebla
This morning, on our short stopover in the beautiful colonial city of Puebla, we walked a few blocks from our hotel to the little shop run by our friend Miguel Paredes and his wife Lilia Cruz Ruiz. Today, Miguel’s school-age son Daniel is helping at the shop (Daniel, a friendly and bright kid, attends school in the afternoon).
Miguel is a perfectionist with a sense of humor, and an eye for detail. In his home, he makes miniature clay scenes in little glass boxes. The scenes feature amusing skeletons engaged in everyday activities. The skeletons appeal to Mexicans’ black sense of humor: indeed, we all feel like walking skeletons sometimes.
Miguel Paredes with his skeletons at Casa de las Artesanias, Puebla, Mexico.
When we got back to the hotel room, the phone rang. It was Miguel. He had discovered that he inadvertently short-changed us by 8 pesos (about 80 cents). He felt bad, and said he would return the pesos to us. We told him to keep the change.
August 22: The Road to Oaxaca
Today, something unusual happened. When we arrived at the bus station in Puebla, we had to wait a couple hours.
The Mexican bus system is a miracle of efficiency – moving millions of people every day with a minimum of trouble and fuss. In our experience, you can usually walk into a bus terminal without prior reservations and, for next to nothing, you can usually climb on a bus to the destination of your choice within 20 minutes (quite often within 5 minutes). But today, we had to wait.
Late in the afternoon, we finally boarded for the 4-hour bus trip to Oaxaca (Wo-HAH-cah) in southern Mexico. If you can ignore the U.S. movie shown en route, the trip from Puebla to Oaxaca is wonderful. There are 5 major volcanoes near Puebla, and on a clear day you can see some of them as you pull out of the city and head south (including Popocatepetl, spewing smoke at 17,802 feet, and Orizaba, Mexico’s highest mountain at 18,880 feet).
A view not from the bus!
On the outskirts of Puebla, as in other Mexican cities, you pass a lot of industrial and commercial flotsam – junk yards and facilities selling cement, tires, auto parts, construction supplies, bottled gas, and car repairs. Between these gritty places there are scores of taquerias, carnitas stands and other open air eateries where people gather to eat at all hours. Trucks and bus roar past, belching fumes.
Eventually, you emerge into the countryside and glide through farm and ranch land green with recent rains. About halfway to Oaxaca, you enter a wild and seemingly uninhabitable mountain area. The land is crumpled and tortured, and a vast forest of 20-ft. tall cactuses covers the landscape. As you climb along sheer canyon walls, and cross a bridge suspended a thousand feet over the river below, you find yourself thinking of earthquakes and landslides. But you never doubt the skill of your bus driver.
Even here, there are some signs of human life. A shepherd stands near his lonely tent, watching the flock below. And at a high scenic turnout, there is even a little comedor selling tacos, carnitas and other muy rico (very rich) and exquisite treats.
Later, the road drops into a slightly more inhabitable landscape of arroyos and running streams. Campesino huts blend into the natural landscape, and hand-planted milpas (corn and bean fields) cling to terraced hillsides. Smoke rises from the little huts, and families head home from a long day of hand-cultivation.
Finally, we drop into the broad, beautiful Oaxaca valley (still high at 5,070 ft.), which has nurtured humanity for thousands of years. The spectacular pre-Hispanic ruins of Monte Alban sit high over the modern city of Oaxaca. Rural Oaxaca state is very poor, but the city of Oaxaca is a colonial gem that draws tourists from all over the world. The site of recent political turmoil, the city is now quiet.
When we arrived on Friday night, the streets and cafes were alive with people – including visitors from Germany, France, the U.S. and other places. As usual, we walked the mile or so from the bus station to our hotel (carrying the box from Miguel’s shop in Puebla, as well as our packs).
Las Golandrinas, Oaxaca, Mexico.
Later, we enjoyed an excellent and inexpensive dinner in a candle-lit courtyard restaurant. We felt glad to have arrived.
NEWS FLASH: The goods described in the past few posts and a few more to come are now on a truck making it's way to the border. We'll let you know when to expect to see product on the Chiripa floor!
[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 21
The town of Dolores Hidalgo is important in Mexican history. There, in 1810, the radical priest Father Hidalgo launched the Mexican rebellion against Spain with his famous cry of rebellion (“grito”) in the parish church. These days, Mexican presidents are still obliged to shout a symbolic “grito” every year on independence day.
Things did not go well for Father Hidalgo. He was captured and executed, and his head was publicly displayed for 4 years as an example to other would-be rebels. But the rebellion eventually succeeded, and Mexico won its independence from Spain.
Today, we were in Dolores Hidalgo to look for high quality Talavera-style ceramics for Chiripa. Dolores is a ceramics center, and one of our favorite producers is the Liceagui (Lee-say-ah-GHEE) family.
Estella, Gerardo, and Maria
Beth checks our sums.
It was nearly 3:00 PM when we finished our order, and rushed to the Dolores bus depot to begin our 8-hour marathon bus ride to the city of Puebla (where we hoped to find a hotel). We caught the bus with 3 minutes to spare. Two hours later, after a violent electrical storm, we got off the bus in the booming city of Querataro. There we caught another bus (with 5 minutes to spare) for the 3-hour trip to Mexico City.
Mexico City is an unfolding drama. It was the site of the epic encounter between Cortés and Moctezuma -- between the Old World and the New – that is still playing itself out today. When Cortés arrived in 1519 (after burning his ships so he couldn’t turn back), Mexico City was already one of the biggest cities in the world (bigger than any city in Europe at the time). The population collapsed after the Spanish conquest (mainly the result of smallpox and other diseases brought by the Spaniards). But today, it is again one of the world’s biggest cities.
The city sits in the high central valley of Mexico, at an altitude of 7,400 ft. (over 2,000 ft. higher than Denver), and is prone to earthquakes. When Cortés arrived, the city was built on an island in the middle of a lake. The lake is gone now, but the earthquakes remain. Huge volcanoes loom over the valley, and sometimes you can see them when the view is not obliterated by smog. This is a place of raw natural forces and raw human struggles. A taxi driver in Michoacán once warned us to be careful in Mexico City – it has a reputation for danger, even among Mexicans.
As our bus approached the megalopolis, farm and ranch scenes gave way to the gritty reality of urban life. There were recently-constructed ghettos of identical, bleak, wall-to-wall cement houses, intermingled with makeshift tin, wood and cardboard shacks. Smoke rising from the shacks confirmed that people were, against all odds, living within.
Children from the shacks played in streets strewn with rubbish, between walls covered with graffiti. Their parents probably came from some famished village, looking for a better life. I wondered: what kinds of bathrooms do these people have, and what happens to the waste? There are people who scratch out a living by combing the dumps for useful trash items. But you can also find wealth, refinement, learning, elegance, lovely buildings and parks, fine museums and restaurants, and friendly neighborhoods in this great city.
We arrived at the bus terminal in Mexico City, and eventually got on another bus for Puebla. It was dark now, and the city lights stretched on forever. Our bus traveled, in reverse, the original route taken by Cortés when he crossed the high mountain pass and first set eyes on the Aztec capital.
We arrived in the big city of Puebla after 11:00 PM, without a hotel reservation. But a friendly taxi driver took us to one of our usual hotels near the Zócalo (central plaza), where we found an available room. We were glad to have a bed.
[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 20, 2008
Today we had a good breakfast, because we knew there would be no lunch. Then we plunged into the depths of the San Miguel artisan market, to finish the work started yesterday. At the market you can buy many small treasures from the artisans themselves. By mid-morning, we had a good collection of Huichol beadwork, amusing coconut heads, hand-carved flying angels and other items to make you smile.
Huichol artist painstakingly picks up beads with a needle
and places them on the carved form that has been coated in beeswax.
Eggs for sale at the doorway of Ricado's home and workshop.
Working is a family affair.
Of course we'd get a ride back!
Beth goes over details with Felix.
A Man of Few Words
Victor Manuel Torres Osuna is a patient and efficient man. He is slender, and has a somewhat Asian appearance. He radiates precision and practical intelligence. He wastes few words, but means what he says. He writes down little, but remembers all. He speaks only in Spanish, but smiles with apparent understanding when we speak among ourselves in English.
Whenever we are in San Miguel, we pay a visit to Señor Torres because he consolidates and ships our San Miguel orders to the exporter in Guadalajara. All of the San Miguel artisans know and respect Señor Torres.
Today we arrived at his shipping establishment unannounced, and without any prior notice. Señor Torres recognized us and, as always, invited us into his tiny back office. He sat behind his small desk, studying us amiably through his glasses like a Zen master. As always, he wore an agreeable but slightly ironic smile.
We asked whether it was possible for him to consolidate our San Miguel shipments, as he did last year. “Por supuesto” (of course). How much will it cost? “Pues, depende, no?” (well, it depends, doesn’t it?). Can you collect the shipments from the artisans, for storage here? “Claro que sí” (of course). Can you deliver the consolidated shipment to Guadalajara in 4 weeks? “Sí.”
We told Señor Torres that, last year, everything had again arrived in perfect order. He smiled, and responded in Spanish: “Yes, but I was not paid the 2,800 pesos ($280) owed to me for the shipment.” He stated the precise unpaid sum without consulting any invoice, account record or computer screen. We were stunned. The exporter in Guadalajara was to have paid Señor Torres as part of its service to us, and we had received no notice of the nonpayment (either from the exporter or Señor Torres). Yet the shipment had occurred a year ago.
We immediately paid the overdue amount to Señor Torres in cash, without consulting the Guadalajara exporter, because there is something about Señor Torres that tells you he is always correct. We counted out the peso bills. “Gracias,” he said, smiling, “Nunca he tenido ningúna problema con ustedes” (I have never had any problem with you folks). Then he wrote out a precise receipt acknowledging the payment. And that was that.
[We regret that we do not have a photo of Sr. Torres. If you have read this far, you probably have your own picture of the man we rely on in San Miguel.]
[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 19
Today, we left Patzcuaro before breakfast (we ate a granola bar and drank some yogurt), and spent most of the day traveling by bus to the colonial town of San Miguel de Allende. The landscape is drier there, and dotted with cactus. But this is the rainy season, and tonight it rained in San Miguel.
The storm moved quickly up the normally dry valley. Lightning flashed, and thunder rolled through the town. The rain came down in torrents, and flowed like a river down the steep cobbled streets. The sudden downpour caught us in the open, and we were drenched. Later, in the dry comfort of our hotel room, we listened and dozed as the rain splashed in the open interior courtyard.
The Cathedral on the zocalo at San Miguel de Allende (day and night)
If you want a break from shopping, you can climb the hill past the old public washbasins (still used to wash clothes). In the hillside residential area above the town, there is a house with a world-famous collection of orchids. Further up the creek bed, there is a hidden canyon with quiet pools, shaded by willows and steep cliff walls. The ruins of an old Spanish water mill overlook the canyon. Beyond that there is a reservoir, where waterfowl splash about, and an adjacent botanical garden with an amazing variety of cactus species.
End of post from 2008 trip.
Note: One of the businesses we patronize at the San Miguel Artisan Market is Luciano owned by Hector Bustamante. Hector and his family specialize in metal creatures: animals, day of the dead figures, suns, and beautiful tree of life wall art. In this photo his daughter is working on a small metal Day of the Dead figure. We carry many Luciano creations at Chiripa and you'll find some of the metal figures on our website. -KL
[Continuing journal written by Chiripa partners on a recent buying trip.]
August 18, 2008
Peter Knöbl is an unlikely Mexican name. In fact, Peter was born in Austria. He came to Mexico as a young man, 35 years ago. He married and never left. As he puts it (in Spanish), “I got used to it here. It is tranquil and comfortable.”
Peter now runs a small furniture company with his wife María Cristina and their daughter Gabriella. He makes wonderful hand-crafted furniture and mirrors, with Austrian technique and Mexican style. He uses local wood, and copper crafted in nearby Santa Clara del Cobre.
A taxi driver helped us locate Peter’s workshop, in the countryside near Patzcuaro. We turned down the unmarked gravel road, and found the office of rough-hewn wood that looked like a chalet in the Alps. It was not out of place in Michoacán.
In his orderly office, Peter sat behind a finely crafted desk painted with flowers. After we toured his equally neat workshop, which smelled of freshly-sawed wood, we placed our order for Chiripa. When we finished, we asked if we could catch a bus or taxi back to town. “No es sencillo” (“it isn’t simple”) he said, and cheerfully drove us back to town himself.
On the way to town, Peter talked about the Patzcuaro area and its traditions – including the colorful annual “Day of the Dead” events that draw people from all over the world. On the “Day of the Dead,” local residents spend the night in the cemeteries, communing with their dead parents, family members and ancestors. But, according to Peter, there are so many outside visitors that the real family communion now occurs in the very early hours of the morning, after the tourists have gone back to their hotels.
[Note: At this time mirrors and furniture from Peter Knöbl are not available at Chiripa. We will let you know when the shipment arrives.]
Miguel Paredes with his skeletons at Casa de las Artesanias, Puebla, Mexico.
A view not from the bus!
Las Golandrinas, Oaxaca, Mexico.
