Monday, February 8, 2010
Temascal
To end a whirlwind week, our yogic gardening class decided to travel to a village in the mountains and participate in a sacred ritual called a Temascal, or sweat lodge. Many people were interested in going, but in the end only two can be Mexico's. next. top...oh wait. Only Emily and I ended up going.
The buses in Mexico are good quality, regular, and inexpensive, so we took the venture on our own. Sadly we got on one of the more expensive buses, and halfway there realized there were no more buses to our destination that day, and had to hire a 200 peso taxi. You win some, you lose some. Tequepexpan is a small village with more traditional architecture, including stone walls in fields and mud brick houses. The community we visited is outside of the village, and has several permanent residents. Their focus is spiritual, a mixture of indigenous religion and Chrisianity. While the houses are not outstanding in their construction in any conventional sense, there is an underriding current of care and peacefulness. Emily commented on their use of religious symbols as decoration, such as God's Eyes or prayer flags, which help to constantly remind of the connection with the spiritual world. The house was also decorated with a large pile of marijuana on the night table (in my opinion, a huge pile, but I have limited experience in these things).
The mountains opened up a different ecosystem to our willing, prodding eyes, with pine trees with 10" long needles, and scrub brilliantly set off by banana trees. The mountain valley was a quilt of agave, corn, and sugar cane. Behind the "mountains" in the foreground, the real mountains wait, the Sierra Madres, invisible.
We prepared for the Temascal with a sage smudge blessing, prayed over a handful of tobacco and tossed it in the fire. Between eight and ten people participated in the Temascal, Emily and I being the only non-Mexicans, and 2 of the only 3 women. We crawled into the dome, made of willow branches and draped with canvas to keep in the steam. The hole in the center was filled with glowing red rocks. Sirgio, the Shaman, would bless each rock with tobacco and everyone would welcome it into our midst. A five gallon bucket of water stood at convenience and soon the space filled with steam. And just when you think it's blisteringly hot, more water is dumped on and the temperature increases. Anna Paula informed us that we could not leave until the door was opened between the four parts of the ceremony. This made me slightly nervous, but it ended up being fine. Everyone had an opportunity to pray aloud, with singing in between. The Temascal invites all the elements to interact, water, fire, earth, and air. More rocks were added, more water, until breathing in makes no sense and breathing out just stirs the air against your skin. After one hour of this cleansing, we crawled back out. I was immiediately cold again, soaked with sweat in the chilly air. But everyone else was ready for a cool down, so each poured a five gallon bucket of cold water over their heads. So even though I was already cold, I did it too. Gah! But the fire was waiting, and dry clothes.
Simultaneously, a birthday party for a three year old was happening in the open kitchen area. Her whole family was there, including a man named Jaime, who informed me he was 26 (contrary to physical evidence) and before the night was over, told me he loved me. Despite my constantly informing him I had a boyfriend. I thought my new haircut would scare people off, but I guess the pull of legal papers is stronger. The food that evening was absolutley delicious, a cabbage dish, and then crazy with the beans: refried beans, lentils, and garbanzo beans in tomato sauce. Naturally, complemented by corn tortillas. For dessert, they made little corn cakes baked on banana leaves. mmmmm. The evening wore on, and Emily and I both got an extended opportunity to practice our Spanish. Only Anna Paula speaks English, and she was preoccupied with her lover.
As the night wore on, we wandered toward our cabin, which six people shared, Emily and I in one bed next to Anna Paula & co, and two other men on the other side of the wall. One man woke up before dawn and called out into the valley. At dawn, the two men had a conversation in normal volume voices inside the cabin for half an hour. After sunrise, when I found myself alone with the couple, I decided it was time to evacuate. We enjoyed some cinnamon tea in the kitchen, and realized all of our food had been taken by the partiers the night before, accidentally. So we hiked into the village, through the hills and brush rather than on the road, and came upon a little door in the village. Inside was a terraced yard, chickens, kittens, little furry dogs, and an elderly woman in a kitchen. The kitchen had a yellow painted earthen oven and pots, pitcher, and kettles hung on the walls in descending size. We thought we were eating there, and she provided us with mint tea fresh from the garden and some buttery crackers. After half an hour of conversation our guide Ernesto asked if we were ready to leave. It turns out she is the tortilla maker, and we returned to her later in the morning to fetch her homemade corn tortillas, which were like pancakes, delicious and fluffy. We traversed the town, and bought some produce. There is generally a convenience store on every block, and no grocery stores, and they prefer to sell cookies, soda, and chips than food staples. Sometimes I really wonder what the Mexican people eat. Beans, tortillas, and salsa for every meal, I think. Our second trip to the village that afternoon to fetch the tortillas brought us to a different path with our guide Ernesto. We were leaping over fences, running from cows, bounding streams, and climbing like mountain goats. I didn't consider it a "trail" exactly, so much as a possibility.
We enjoyed a nice breakfast and took a leisurely hike up the closest mountain to gain a magnificent view of the valley and the small sierra around us. Anna Paula brought us back to Sayulita and Litibu, and taught us some of the Spanish songs which we heard in the Temascal. It was a blessing to be granted an insight into this amazing Mexican community, their ceremonies, and their hospitality. How is this lesson applied to American hospitality to Mexican visitors or immigrants?
The buses in Mexico are good quality, regular, and inexpensive, so we took the venture on our own. Sadly we got on one of the more expensive buses, and halfway there realized there were no more buses to our destination that day, and had to hire a 200 peso taxi. You win some, you lose some. Tequepexpan is a small village with more traditional architecture, including stone walls in fields and mud brick houses. The community we visited is outside of the village, and has several permanent residents. Their focus is spiritual, a mixture of indigenous religion and Chrisianity. While the houses are not outstanding in their construction in any conventional sense, there is an underriding current of care and peacefulness. Emily commented on their use of religious symbols as decoration, such as God's Eyes or prayer flags, which help to constantly remind of the connection with the spiritual world. The house was also decorated with a large pile of marijuana on the night table (in my opinion, a huge pile, but I have limited experience in these things).
The mountains opened up a different ecosystem to our willing, prodding eyes, with pine trees with 10" long needles, and scrub brilliantly set off by banana trees. The mountain valley was a quilt of agave, corn, and sugar cane. Behind the "mountains" in the foreground, the real mountains wait, the Sierra Madres, invisible.
We prepared for the Temascal with a sage smudge blessing, prayed over a handful of tobacco and tossed it in the fire. Between eight and ten people participated in the Temascal, Emily and I being the only non-Mexicans, and 2 of the only 3 women. We crawled into the dome, made of willow branches and draped with canvas to keep in the steam. The hole in the center was filled with glowing red rocks. Sirgio, the Shaman, would bless each rock with tobacco and everyone would welcome it into our midst. A five gallon bucket of water stood at convenience and soon the space filled with steam. And just when you think it's blisteringly hot, more water is dumped on and the temperature increases. Anna Paula informed us that we could not leave until the door was opened between the four parts of the ceremony. This made me slightly nervous, but it ended up being fine. Everyone had an opportunity to pray aloud, with singing in between. The Temascal invites all the elements to interact, water, fire, earth, and air. More rocks were added, more water, until breathing in makes no sense and breathing out just stirs the air against your skin. After one hour of this cleansing, we crawled back out. I was immiediately cold again, soaked with sweat in the chilly air. But everyone else was ready for a cool down, so each poured a five gallon bucket of cold water over their heads. So even though I was already cold, I did it too. Gah! But the fire was waiting, and dry clothes.
Simultaneously, a birthday party for a three year old was happening in the open kitchen area. Her whole family was there, including a man named Jaime, who informed me he was 26 (contrary to physical evidence) and before the night was over, told me he loved me. Despite my constantly informing him I had a boyfriend. I thought my new haircut would scare people off, but I guess the pull of legal papers is stronger. The food that evening was absolutley delicious, a cabbage dish, and then crazy with the beans: refried beans, lentils, and garbanzo beans in tomato sauce. Naturally, complemented by corn tortillas. For dessert, they made little corn cakes baked on banana leaves. mmmmm. The evening wore on, and Emily and I both got an extended opportunity to practice our Spanish. Only Anna Paula speaks English, and she was preoccupied with her lover.
As the night wore on, we wandered toward our cabin, which six people shared, Emily and I in one bed next to Anna Paula & co, and two other men on the other side of the wall. One man woke up before dawn and called out into the valley. At dawn, the two men had a conversation in normal volume voices inside the cabin for half an hour. After sunrise, when I found myself alone with the couple, I decided it was time to evacuate. We enjoyed some cinnamon tea in the kitchen, and realized all of our food had been taken by the partiers the night before, accidentally. So we hiked into the village, through the hills and brush rather than on the road, and came upon a little door in the village. Inside was a terraced yard, chickens, kittens, little furry dogs, and an elderly woman in a kitchen. The kitchen had a yellow painted earthen oven and pots, pitcher, and kettles hung on the walls in descending size. We thought we were eating there, and she provided us with mint tea fresh from the garden and some buttery crackers. After half an hour of conversation our guide Ernesto asked if we were ready to leave. It turns out she is the tortilla maker, and we returned to her later in the morning to fetch her homemade corn tortillas, which were like pancakes, delicious and fluffy. We traversed the town, and bought some produce. There is generally a convenience store on every block, and no grocery stores, and they prefer to sell cookies, soda, and chips than food staples. Sometimes I really wonder what the Mexican people eat. Beans, tortillas, and salsa for every meal, I think. Our second trip to the village that afternoon to fetch the tortillas brought us to a different path with our guide Ernesto. We were leaping over fences, running from cows, bounding streams, and climbing like mountain goats. I didn't consider it a "trail" exactly, so much as a possibility.
We enjoyed a nice breakfast and took a leisurely hike up the closest mountain to gain a magnificent view of the valley and the small sierra around us. Anna Paula brought us back to Sayulita and Litibu, and taught us some of the Spanish songs which we heard in the Temascal. It was a blessing to be granted an insight into this amazing Mexican community, their ceremonies, and their hospitality. How is this lesson applied to American hospitality to Mexican visitors or immigrants?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Gardening + Yoga = Happy Body Happy Spirit
I spent the last seven days attending a workshop, entitled "Entering the Temple Gates - a Yogic Approach to Organic Gardening". Intriguing? Confusing? Potentially a flop? Well, I didn't have to pay for it, so I didn't mind. I readily entered the flow of the week. The class was led by Juaquin and Yoga Ma Barbara, an eccentric "couple". Barbara lives in a van down by the ocean for the winter in San Pancho, and Juaquin used to have a very active Vivero (nursery) there, which reached a rapid and mysterious demise ten months ago. Barbara is an excellent yoga instructor and Juaquin is a scatterbrained philosopher and perfectionist in the garden.
Our preliminary meeting was to feel out who wanted to participate in the course so they could shape it (or one could say, Juaquin did absolutely no preparation). Those that showed up: Salvatore and I, the Americans, three Mexicans, one French woman who has lived in the area for eight years, two French Canadians, and one Swedish woman. Her name is Emily, and she was the first one I saw when I arrived, with her baggy pantaloons and squashed leather hat. Emily has spent the last year and a half of her life spending time taking courses like this one, and WWOOFing (World Wide Organization of Organic Farming), which is what I would like to do as soon as my time here is over. And to add a little awesome icing, she lived in Canada for the past months. She travels alone. And she happens to have the same skin type and basic body features as me. As the week progressed, we became good friends.
The third and fourth days of our class brought an impressive storm, which washed Emily up in Litibu. The ten foot overhang of our porch still allowed about a six foot strip of our floor wet, we had to move our bed into our "guest bedroom" aka the other side of the curtain. It rained all day and several inches and then all night. So our plans for double digging were severly compromised. But we were able to complete it by the end of the class. We learned preparing seed flats, sowing and planting different size seeds in flats and beds, transplanting, and soil preparation. So I'll let you decide if this was a lot or a little for seven days, but we learned how to do it all with perfection. I am not a perfectionist.
Juaquin is trained as a biodynamic gardener, which involves planting with planet, moon, and sun cycles, and focuses on the health of soils. Our course was not explicitly biodynamic, but Juaquin was trained by Alan Chadwick, a famous personality that further developed the biodynamic and French intensive system. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdMeyywc2xo, it's worth it just to hear his voice).
The last day we came to Litibu, to evaluate our site and talk about our food forest. Salvatore hired Juaquin to do a design for us, and he came out several days previous to the course to give us suggestions and scout out the land. Our day here turned out to be 90% unproductive in terms of developing our design. Juaquin went through some tree varieties with us in a semi-systematic way, for the benefit of other community members. But we ate some delicious locally made popcicles, and did some yoga in Salvatore's serenity garden.
Although the variety of information may have been limited, what we learned we learned well, and I feel completely competent in starting my own seeds or garden, or possibly even a nursery! Not that I actually want to do that...but I wouldn't say no to a greenhouse. Are you reading this, Dad?
Our preliminary meeting was to feel out who wanted to participate in the course so they could shape it (or one could say, Juaquin did absolutely no preparation). Those that showed up: Salvatore and I, the Americans, three Mexicans, one French woman who has lived in the area for eight years, two French Canadians, and one Swedish woman. Her name is Emily, and she was the first one I saw when I arrived, with her baggy pantaloons and squashed leather hat. Emily has spent the last year and a half of her life spending time taking courses like this one, and WWOOFing (World Wide Organization of Organic Farming), which is what I would like to do as soon as my time here is over. And to add a little awesome icing, she lived in Canada for the past months. She travels alone. And she happens to have the same skin type and basic body features as me. As the week progressed, we became good friends.
The third and fourth days of our class brought an impressive storm, which washed Emily up in Litibu. The ten foot overhang of our porch still allowed about a six foot strip of our floor wet, we had to move our bed into our "guest bedroom" aka the other side of the curtain. It rained all day and several inches and then all night. So our plans for double digging were severly compromised. But we were able to complete it by the end of the class. We learned preparing seed flats, sowing and planting different size seeds in flats and beds, transplanting, and soil preparation. So I'll let you decide if this was a lot or a little for seven days, but we learned how to do it all with perfection. I am not a perfectionist.
Juaquin is trained as a biodynamic gardener, which involves planting with planet, moon, and sun cycles, and focuses on the health of soils. Our course was not explicitly biodynamic, but Juaquin was trained by Alan Chadwick, a famous personality that further developed the biodynamic and French intensive system. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdMeyywc2xo, it's worth it just to hear his voice).
The last day we came to Litibu, to evaluate our site and talk about our food forest. Salvatore hired Juaquin to do a design for us, and he came out several days previous to the course to give us suggestions and scout out the land. Our day here turned out to be 90% unproductive in terms of developing our design. Juaquin went through some tree varieties with us in a semi-systematic way, for the benefit of other community members. But we ate some delicious locally made popcicles, and did some yoga in Salvatore's serenity garden.
Although the variety of information may have been limited, what we learned we learned well, and I feel completely competent in starting my own seeds or garden, or possibly even a nursery! Not that I actually want to do that...but I wouldn't say no to a greenhouse. Are you reading this, Dad?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)