A Bit of Luck in Tonala

From JM's August 2010 log of the Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

August 17, 2010. We have never had much luck in Tonala. The town on the outskirts of Guadalajara is reputed to be a major center of craft production. But we have always found it frustrating. There are a lot of workshops, but much of the production we've been able to find is kitchy grade B stuff--not the high quality traditional crafts that we seek.

Today we decided to give it one more try. We had a specific mission in mind: to find the workshop that creates interesting metal work under the name of Marco Polo Designs (we had failed to find it once before). 

The taxi dripped us on Alfereros street, where we had heard the workshop was located. But Alfereros is not a continuous street. It stops, changes names, travels several crooked blocks under its new alias, and then resumes liife under its original name. The house numbers follow no discernible order, and seem to be assigned by a random number generator.

Despite these difficulties, we persisted. Finally, after asking several friendly pedestrians and shopkeepers, and consulting with a helpful policeman, we found the little yellow house and workshop at Alfereros #8. We rang the bell, but there was no answer. Again . . . No response. Once more . . .  Nothing. It looked like yet another defeat in Tonala.

But we weren't quite ready to quit. After polking around the back streets for another hour or so, we returned One more time to Alfereros #8. This time the door opened, and a friendly figure emerged. He smiled when he saw us, and waved us in.

We ordered some really nice luminaries (table and wall), a big dancing Catrina skeleton, and other good metal pieces, including some clever geckos to climb all over your walls. Tonala is still hard to figure out, but it may be growing on us.

Farewell to a Friend

From the log JM kept on the August 2010 Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

"I am so glad to see you, but I have some very bad news." We held our breath, waiting for what Tina would tell us: "My husband Carlos has died."

 Carlos and Tina in February, 2010.

It was just this past February when Carlos had drawn us a big glass of tequila from the barrel in the back room. (Carlos had received the barrel in payment from a small tequila maker who could not afford to pay cash for the special hand-blown glass bottles that Carlos had made for him.) When we protested that the glass was too big, Carlos just smiled and said "the tap closes slowly . . ."  We laughed, and he told us about the avocado trees that he was planting on their little farm. He hoped to sell the avocados to provide retirement income.

On a hot afternoon just one month later, Carlos was watering the young avocado trees when he suffered a stroke. He wanted to clean up before going to the hospital, but he naver made it. Carlos was gone, and Tina is left to tend the trees herself.

Tina and Carlos were maried for 43 years. As newlyweds they moved to Tlaquepaque to live in his mother's house, just across the street from the old Rufugio monastery. For many years, the house served as glass-blowing workshop, retail store and residence. 

Tina misses Carlos "more each day." But at least for now, she bravely carries on the family glassware business. Chiripa is proud to be one of her loyal customers.

Farewell, Carlos.