The Stiltwalker

February, 2013.  We are visiting the town of Pátzcuaro, in the state of Michoacán in south-central Mexico, looking for fine artisan crafts for Chiripa. The following story recounts what we saw on a prior visit to this same place. We did not see the stiltwalker on this trip, but the blind man was still playing his concertina.

In Patzcuaro, there is a blind man who plays his concertina near La Casa de Las Once Patios (the House of the Eleven Patios). He plays almost every day, and has done so for years. Indeed, he may be playing at this very moment. He sits on a little stool, with his back against one of the adobe walls that frame the cobblestone alley. The walls have stood for centuries, despite rain, poverty and earthquake. 

 

The Cobblestone Alley

At night, you can watch the moonlight stream down the alley and over the cobbles. From open doorways, warm light pours out onto the moonlit steps. A dim incandescence from rusting street lamps washes down the walls. Gentle figures, in straw hats and hand-woven shawls, linger next to the doorways.

But on this day we were standing in the alley in the heat of the afternoon. The rounded cobbles were warm and the old buildings cast welcome shadows. We stood in the shade, against a wall, and watched the blind man ply his trade. An old woman, who might have been the blind man’s mother, sat across the alley and mumbled occasional words of encouragement or advice. We did not understand her words, but the blind man did. He nodded and, from time to time, murmured a response.

Haunting Music

We dropped a large coin into the open box. The blind man picked up the coin, sniffed it and smiled. “Gracias, senor.” He leaned into the worn concertina, grimaced, worked hard at the fingerboard, and squeezed out a haunting melody from long ago. His foot tapped on the cobbles, and the little stool creaked in rhythm.

As we listened, a strange figure turned the corner and climbed up the alley toward us. He had a painted clown face and carried long poles over his shoulder. He moved briskly, and with purpose. When he reached a point opposite the blind man, he scrambled up a high stone porch that overlooked the alley.

Steps Leading Up to the Stone Porch

His painted expression was kindly – neither happy nor overly sad. And beneath the paint, as best we could tell, was a decent and kindly human face. A canvas bag was slung around his neck. He wore long, heavy-soled, laced and rubberized boots – more suited to an arctic expedition than to this subtropical place.

He wasted no motion. He leaned the long wooden poles against the wall and opened his bag. And then, with the utmost care, he prepared for his intended mission. From out of the bag he pulled the tools of his trade: an impossibly long pair of red and white striped pants, a whistle, a set of juggling batons, and assorted lengths of rope.

We could now see that the poles were stilts – impossibly long stilts that extended for yards below their foot rests. The stiltwalker swung the stilts into position, and then tied himself to them. He wound a length of rope around each foot, and another around each leg. He drew the ropes tight, and knotted them securely. There could be no escape. The stiltwalker surely foresaw the possibility of a catastrophic fall, yet with deliberate premeditation he bound himself irrevocably to his fate.

Lifting one bound leg, and then another, he poked the impossibly long wooden stilts into the leg openings of the impossibly long striped pants (held at sufficient distance by a long stick), then pulled on an attached cord to hoist the pants up his extended wooden “legs.” Rolling from side to side, he pulled the pants past his hips, and then cinched them around his waist. He slipped into his vest, slung the bag and juggling paraphernalia around his neck, adjusted his red cap and bow tie, took a deep breath, worked his way to the edge of the high stone porch, set his narrow wooden “feet” on the uneven cobbles far below, pushed himself away from the security of his stone perch, and stood to his full extended height.

The Stiltwalker Stands!

What a sight! The stiltwalker now looked down on the cobblestone pavement from a height of nearly two stories! He waivered a bit, got his bearings, pivoted slowly until he faced the lower end of the alley, and began to walk! He started tentatively, swaying stiffly from side to side like an old and arthritic giant. But soon he gained momentum and began rocking toward his fate with graceful, fearless, colossal strides. His pant legs waived like banners with each enormous step, their motion synchronized to the blind man’s haunting lament. Oh, the courage! The resolution in the face of death! It was enough to make us weep!     

Gigantic Strides

Borne by our small human legs, we caught up to the stiltwalker sometime later, in the central square. There was some kind of civic event underway, and the stiltwalker was part of the spectacle. He towered above the tiny creatures that gathered below him, yet he seemed strangely alone and vulnerable -- an isolated, far-seeing, almost Lincolnesque figure – fulfilling his duty despite the danger from the children who swirled violently at his feet. Not once did he falter, or drop his juggling batons.

Tall and Alone, Juggling with Fate

When the sun was going down, we again found ourselves in the alley by La Casa de Las Once Patios. The blind man was still there, playing a sad tune on his concertina. The stiltwalker was there, too. But this time he was unbinding himself from his stilts and packing away his public persona. When he had returned to human size, he climbed down from the high porch, threw his long artificial legs over his shoulder, and walked briskly down the alley toward us. As he passed, we clapped spontaneously. “Bravo! …Bravo!” we hollered. The stiltwalker cocked his head, tipped his cap, turned the corner and was gone…. - JM

The Mysterious Island

February, 2013.  We are travelling in the highlands of Michoacán, in south-central Mexico, looking for fine artisan crafts for Chiripa.

Pátzcuaro, in Michoacán, is one of our favorite places in Mexico. Part of its charm is the nearby lake that has nourished people and other wild things for many centuries. The island of Janitzio thrusts upward from the center of the lake, like a Mexican version of Mont St. Michelle. In the evening, the distant lights from the island seem beautiful and mysterious. At such moments, the island seems like a place of legend that is beyond our earthly reach. 

Lake Patzcuaro, from the Island

In our many visits to the lakeside town of Pátzcuaro, we had never before visited the mysterious island – partly, I suppose, because we were afraid of being disillusioned.  But on this beautiful Sunday afternoon, we decided that the time had come to penetrate the mystery. So we took a taxi to the lakeshore embarcadero from which tour boats embark, bought round-trip tickets at the ticket booth, and climbed on to one of many long wooden boats docked along the shore.

We were not alone. It turns out that on Sunday afternoons the island is visited by hundreds, if not thousands, of Mexican tourists (we saw few, if any, fellow gringos). On this afternoon, the atmosphere was fun and festive in an unpretentious working class way. Musicians carrying well-worn instruments climbed aboard with us and, in hopes of collecting a few pesos from fellow passengers, began wailing old-time Mexican tunes – at once jolly, romantic, mournful and fatalistic.

Music and a Festive Atmosphere Onboard

The excitement mounted as we cast loose from the dock, and edged out into the water choked with floating plants.  “Now THIS is living!” one of us smiled.  Soon we pushed through the floating greenery and out into the muddy, shallow lake, which produces delicate whitefish as well as tiny fingerlings like smelt (you can order the tiny fish, crispy-fried or with green tomatillo sauce, in local restaurants).  Along the shore, we could see the ruins of ancient Tarascan towns that had thrived centuries before any Europeans arrived in this place.

The Island of Janitzio

As we moved out across the lake, we gained a better view of the island and the huge statue that rises from its summit. The statue is of José María Morelos, a Catholic priest who became a leader of the Mexican War of Independence against Spain (Morelos was executed by Spanish authorities in 1815). Morelos is a much-loved figure in Mexico, and justifiably so. But, from an artistic perspective, the statue (begun in 1933) is a bit harder to love. It is a rather cold, inhuman monolith – looking somewhat like a graceless Statue of Liberty with a clenched fist, or an odd combination of Lenin and militant Buddha.  But it certainly dominates the landscape.

Statue of Morelos

As we drew closer to the island, we caught sight of fishermen paddling colorful fishing boats and wielding the traditional butterfly nets that have been used here throughout the ages. Today, however, the fishermen seemed to be fishing mainly for tourist pesos.  They surrounded the incoming tourist boats like a sort of naval escort.  And after a brief fishing “performance,” they pulled alongside the tour boats with hats outstretched. 

 

Fishing with Butterfly Nets

Passengers cheered and waived as tour boats passed each other in their race toward the island.  At last we docked at our destination, and stepped ashore.  Tourists are the life-blood of this isolated place, and it shows.  A steep cobblestone walk leads from the boat dock to the summit of the island, where the huge statue is perched.  There is little to do but take the pilgrimage to the top. 

Fish Fry

Along the way, pilgrims pass dozens of little restaurants, snack stalls, and shops hawking humble souvenirs. There are crispy fried fish, blue corn tortillas frying on comals, and stews bubbling expectantly in pots. There are no global brands here – no Starbucks to be seen -- just hundreds of small local operators trying to fish a few pesos from the stream of sweating, puffing tourists. 

Blue Corn Tortillas Frying on the Comal

We hiked up to the base of the statue, but decided not to make the final climb to the upraised clenched fist. Instead, we looked out over the beautiful lake and watched the people enjoying their Sunday holiday. Then, like all the other tourists, we headed back down. As we approached the tourist dock, we saw little fish drying in the sun atop overturned fishing boats. We also passed the garbage scow that is used to collect the island’s garbage and ferry it to the mainland.  A well-fed rat nosed around nearby.

Fish Drying in the Sun

On the trip back, the passengers on our tour boat were more subdued. Their Sunday holiday was coming to an end, and tomorrow they would have to return to their jobs in Mexico City or Morelia. Children clutched their toy fishnets and leaned against their mothers. The warm sun was getting lower in the sky as we left the embarcadero and hailed a taxi to take us back to our hotel.

For us, at that moment, the fabulous Island of Janitzio had temporarily lost its mystery. But if ever we are lucky enough to return to Pátzcuaro, we will again look across the lake as the sun falls behind the mountains. And, in that twilight moment, we will again see the island and the great statue rising in all their distant glory – surrounded by mysterious lights twinkling in the blue darkness. - JM

How We Bring Beauty to You-Part 2

Photos and thoughts from the 2012 Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

Continued from the last post. . .
We eventually regrouped, gulped down some liquid yogurt for lunch, used the baño, and hailed a cab on the street. We told the cab driver we wanted to go to the village of Capula, a center of indigenous ceramic craft. The driver whistled, scrunched up his face and calculated: “Pues, es muy lejos...” (translation: “it’s very far” -- i.e., “it’s going to cost you a bundle”). We agreed on an estimated fare, jumped into the cab and headed out. On the way we passed miles of stone fences, laboriously constructed over the centuries – each stone lifted and set by strong brown hands. The fences looked like they had always been there.
 
In Capula, after bumping down many wrong streets and asking many puzzled bystanders, we finally rediscovered the home of the Juan Rosas family (whom we had not seen for 2 years).  Their son Juan (“Chino”), a brilliant ceramic painter who has won national awards, opened the door. Chino recognized us immediately and sent word to his father, who was in the market. Juan ran the entire distance, and leaned against a wall to catch his breath before he could speak to us. His wife Lourdes joined us later:  “Qué Milagro!” (“What a Miracle”) she said. “We have been thinking about you, and wondering why you hadn’t been back. But now here you are!” Her beautiful smile spread from ear to ear.

 Lourdes with her three sons: 
Brian (Koby), Juan Jr (Chino) and Misael (translator and accountant)

We bought some fine ceramics from the Juan Rosas family, while others gathered around to watch. The family will pack and deliver the ceramics to a stone carver in another village. The stone carver (with whom we had already placed an order), will carry the stone and ceramic pieces to Guadalajara in a pickup truck (we hope they get there). In Guadalajara, crafts from our many other Mexican stops will be consolidated in similar fashion for export to Chiripa.  The daisy chain process takes months.

In Capula, we also bought some delicate ceramic Catrinas from other sellers. These had to be wound in toilet paper and bubble wrap, carefully placed in a box, and carried with us to Patzcuaro. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the taxi driver was getting nervous.  Finally, we were ready. 

The stone carvings in Tzintzuntzan seem to grow up from the ground.

On the way back to Patzcuaro, we stopped to see the stone carver and tell him about the ceramics shipment that would be coming his way. He was eating a light meal with friends, at a makeshift outdoor table under a shade tree. At sunset, the taxi driver finally dropped us at our hotel and we give him a handsome tip (“Muy bién,” he beamed).
 

We left the box of delicate Catrinas in our room and used the baño.  After a long and hard day’s work, we decided that we deserved supper and a beer (“merecemos una cerveza”) at Lupita (photo of patio seating on the left), a new favorite restaurant up near the Basilica.  But first, we had to visit the artisans selling woven linens and milagro hearts....   -JKM

How We Bring Beauty to You--part 1

Thoughts and photos from the Feb 2012 Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

 

How do we bring the finest handmade crafts from remote Mexican villages to you? With a lot of love and hard work!  

 Corn platter by Nicolas Fabian, Santa Fe de la Laguana, Michoacan, Mexico.

Chiripa is hoping to have more in stock soon.

We personally visit dedicated Mexican artisans in their homes and family workshops. We hand-select works that have a human story to tell. We buy directly from the artisans, so they get the best possible return for their work. We pay in advance, and trust the artisans to deliver. They have never disappointed us. We have found sublime beauty in humble places, and made many wonderful friends. That more than compensates for the extra work. 

On our latest trip to Mexico, we visited the old colonial towns of Guanajuato, Dolores Hidalgo and San Miguel de Allende, as well as Patzcuaro in the highlands of Michoacán. We especially love Patzcuaro, which is within striking distance of a number of indigenous villages producing elegant crafts. On our latest trip, a typical day in Patzcuaro went like this: 

 

We threw off woolen blankets after a cold night, and took (brief) lukewarm showers. Donning sweaters, we went out for hot coffee and breakfast. Joggers were taking gentle morning turns around the sweet old plaza. The soft light filtered through the tall trees and warmed the adobe walls. After breakfast, we jettisoned our sweaters and put on baseball caps. Then to work!

We plunged into the labyrinthine public market to find the tiny stall belonging to Salvador Farran, one of just two remaining practitioners of the traditional Purepecha silver jewelry craft.

You should not expect to find Señor Farfan’s jewelry stall without an expert guide; but, if you want to try, you should look near the large collection of butcher stalls that have unrefrigerated beef sides, pig heads and strings of spicy red and green chorizo prominently on offer.

With a little luck, we found Señor Farfan. To the sound of hacking meat cleavers, we purchased some delicate hand-wrought traditional jewelry for Chiripa. 

We squinted as we emerged from the dark warren of the market. To save time, we divided our forces: some went to the basilica market to buy pine needle baskets, bracelets, weavings and carvings from the indigenous vendors. Others, drawing the short straw, went to the bank to exchange traveler’s checks for cash (artisans in remote villages do not accept credit cards, wire transfers or like forms of payment). The bank never cashes traveler’s checks with undue haste, so there was time to shop most of the basilica market. -JKM

The day in Patzcuaro will continue . . .

A Riot of Table Linens

From the log of the August, 2011 Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

Pátzcuaro, in Michoacán, is famous for its colorful, hand-woven table linens. The linens are produced in family workshops, on hand-operated wooden looms. Marco Adame helped us select some nice patterns in his little retail shop, then took us to the workshop where other patterns were still on the looms. His little car bounced and scraped on the steep, rocky road to the workshop. But the workshop and the view were well worth the bumpy ride.  

At the workshop, we had the privilege of choosing cloth in a variety of brilliant designs that were still in the process of being woven. 

The next day, the weaving was completed, and the cloth was cut and sewn to our specifications. We picked up our completed order after sunset. You can find these lively and functional table linens, including table cloths, placemats and napkins, at Chiripa. Add fun to your table!

The Barter Market

From the August 2011 log on the Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

In Pátzcuaro, on certain days, the indigenous Purépecha people from surrounding villages hold a barter market on a rundown outdoor basketball court near the old church. This market is not for tourists, or even the other people of Pátzcuaro, but for the villagers themselves. The vendors trade produce of various kinds -- reckoning, say, the comparative value of peppers and dried beans. Vendors also offer an eclectic array of used clothing and household items. 

Fresh and dried fish, from the nearby lake, are also on offer. Fish have long been an important part of the Purépecha life and diet, and are a common design element in local handcrafts – including hand-made jewelry, textiles and ceramics. You can see some beautiful examples at Chiripa.

Blue Fish Platter by Fernando Arroyo, Capula, Michoacan.

Purépecha Silver

From the log kept on the August 2011 Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

Pátzcuaro, in the mountains of Michoacán, is cooler and wetter than Guadalajara. Salvador Farfán García and his son Gustavo are the last remaining practitioners of the traditional Purépecha silver craft in Pátzcuaro, Michoacán. Salvador’s world renowned cousin Jesús Garcia Zavala, who also studied under the great maestro Casares, died a couple of years ago.

We decided to locate Salvador, but it was not easy. With luck, we managed to get Gustavo’s address from a jewelry retailer in Pátzcuaro. 

The walk past Once Patios.

The path led us past the Casa de las Once Patios, where a blind accordionist plays every day in hopes of getting a few coins from passersby. 

The mournful chords seemed as timeless and melancholy as the ancient adobe walls. We climbed the steep cobbled stairway to the hill above, from which there is a magnificent view of the city, mountains and lake.

Pátzcuaro at the top of the stairs.

We wandered through the quiet little residential district that sits up on the hill. At last, with some friendly help from local residents, we found Gustavo’s home. Gustavo graciously showed us his little workshop, where he makes fine silver jewelry on a tree stump using hammers, files, and other simple hand tools. 

Beth watches Gustavo at work on the stump.

Gustavo carefully forms a sphere from a flat disc.

Gustavo files a silver fish.

Then, he led us back down to the center of town to meet his father (from whom he learned the silver craft). 

Our pilgrimage took us to Pátzcuaro’s public market. Following Gustavo’s lead, we plunged into a warren of covered walkways – so dark and crowded that they seemed like underground tunnels. Finally, in a most unlikely location opposite a meat vendor’s stall, we found Salvador’s tiny little shop.

We picked out a fine selection of pieces, including a magnificent fish necklace of a kind that Purépecha brides-to-be traditionally received as a toke of their betrothal. We also chose hand-wrought silver earrings of a kind found nowhere else in the world. See them for yourself at Chiripa!  -JKM

Salvador and Gustavo Farfan with some of their creations.



Earrings available from Chiripa.

Dining Room with a View

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

August 21, 2010. It seemed like a fine morning to eat at the Hotel de la Basilica. The hotel, which sits on a hill in the center of Patzcuaro, is named for the basilica that sits just across the street. The basilica was constructed from the 16th to the 19th centuries. Its huge bells ring out across the city, a soulful reminder to faithful and unfaithful alike.

The hotel dining room offers splendid views over a jumble of red-tiled roofs (reminiscent of hill towns in Italy) to the lake and mountains beyond. Morning clouds hang half-way up the mountains. The dining room is small, but we have our choice of tables because tourists are scarce these days. The hot coffee is delicious on a cool morning.

 A lovely table setting features hand-made ceramic plates from the nearby village of Capula. (Chiripa has just a few of these very same plates which are made with a lead-free glaze.) The centerpiece is a colorful, handmade castle of firecrackers (not available at Chiripa), of the sort commonly put to use at fiestas here. The centerpiece also includes hand-woven straw ornaments from the nearby town of Tzintzuntzan (which we plan to visit after breakfast). Heavy, hand-blown glassware and hand-formed ceramic mugs complete the table setting.

In Patzcuaro, hand-woven table linens are also a specialty. Men weave the fabric on heavy wooden looms. Skilled seamstresses then fashion the fabric into napkins, placemats and tablecloths. At Chiripa you can find Patzcuaro table linens in a riot of bright colors. They look great with hand-made ceramic plates from Capula and hand-blown glassware from Tlaquepaque! Enjoy the colors, textures and hand-made character of Mexico in your home.

Old and Eccentric

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

August 19, 2010.  The old Hotel de los Escudos, in the center of Pazcuaro, is not what you would call luxurious. But it is clean and economical ($29 a night at this time of year). It is also interesting, in an eccentric and centuries-old sort of way. The desk staff remembers us, and it has a handy location right on the serene Plaza de Vasco Quiroga. It has big pine pillars and beams, and limestone steps indented and worn smooth by centuries of foot traffic. There is no security to speak of, but it feels comfortable and safe. So it suits us, and we keep coming back. 

Morning light hits Los Escudos on a prior trip. 

Note: the zocalo has not been rebuilt.

This time we stayed in the hotel “annex,” which has a lobby with a stuffed deer and a picture of the plaza covered with snow on July 16, 1996. Our interior room was almost too quiet, except for the rooftop bells that reminded us of the time every 15 minutes. In the corner of the room was a round brick fireplace that might be as old as the hotel. Patzcuaro nights can get cold, and firewood is provided. The blackened brick in the fire chamber suggested that the fireplace has seen plenty of use, but we paused when we saw that the brick on the outside of the fireplace was also blackened.

The ceiling, resting on heavy pine beams, towered 20 feet above us. The bathroom looked like a quaint little 10-ft. tall house within the 20-ft. tall room. It had brick and stucco walls, a pine door, and pine-encased semi-transparent windows that could swing open. Like many hotel bathrooms in Mexico, it was raised 8 inches above the bedroom floor. In the middle of the night, you must remember to step up on your way in (and down on your way out) or you will come to a bad end.

Once you have negotiated the step and entered the little house-bathroom, you must close the creaky pine door. The door does not shut unless you pull hard, and then it slams (waking your spouse). It is pitch black inside, so you try to find the light switch. The light shines through the window into your spouse’s (now open) eyes. If you are male, you raise the toilet seat, but it does not stay up by itself. You improvise by addressing the toilet from the side, and holding the seat up with your knee. If you are lucky, you finish the operation before the seat slips from your knee and slams down with a loud slap.

When you finish in the bathroom, you turn out the light, force open the creaky door with your shoulder, remember to step down, and grope your way back to bed. You misjudge a bit, and curse when you slam into the bed with your shin. You eventually get back to sleep, but your spouse will be awake for several hours….    

"Going green" in the interior lobby at Los Escudos.

Requiem for a Silversmith

Text from JM's log on the Feb/March 2010 Chiripa buying trip to Mexico.

February 24, 2010

We are sorry to report that Jesus Garcia Zavala--silversmith extraordinaire--has passed away. The sign over his form shop near the Patzcuaro Basillica has been painted over with whitewash.

Jesus created the beautiful silver fish necklaces and other items seen at Chiripa, and his work has been displayed in museums around the world.

When we asked Jesus why there were 12 fish on all of his necklaces
he replied that there were 12 disciples, of course.

Jesus carving one of his cast silver fish.

Fortunately, Jesus shared his silverworking knowledge with other family members, and we were able to acquire a few pieces that his cousin has crafted in the same tradition.

Earrings by Jesus Garcia Zaval available at Chiripa and online.

Farewell to a Patzcuaro icon.