I personally cannot listen to it without crying; it brings up such feelings of patriotism and pride, even though by birth I am not Mexican. This particular version is extra special because so many forms of Mexican music are shown and it truly highlights the beauty and diversity in Mexico making the pride even greater.

I wanted to find out a little more about the song and its history, so I did a little digging. The song was written by a songwriter and poet, Chucho (the nickname used for people called Jesus) Monge. Described as a pale-faced man from Morelia, Monge was the author of over 600 compositions.  The song was made famous however, by the iconic singer and actor Jorge Negrete, from Guanajuato, who sings it like a serenade to his beloved country. Mexico is famous for its nighttime serenades from men to women. The women traditionally would just peep from behind the curtain to watch the scene. Nowadays they still exist and recently whilst in Mexico City I heard a neighbour receive an hour-long serenade of pop classics at 4am, whilst she danced at the window! It seems fitting then that one of the most iconic songs takes this form.

Here is Negrete’s version complete with sombreros and moustaches. Fantastic!

The words in the song that stand out most to me are:

si muero lejos de ti
que digan que estoy dormido
y que me traigan aquí

If I die far from you
Tell them I am sleeping
And bring me back here

I was therefore interested in read that Jorge Negrete died in Los Angeles. How sad I thought, that his wish wasn’t granted. Then I discovered that his body was returned to Mexico and greeted by 10,000 people upon arrival at Mexico City airport!

When I hear the words I can’t also help but think about the reality for a great number of Mexican’s who are living outside of Mexico (many not through choice but necessity) to whom these words will touch very deeply.

And here is Playing for Change version of the song, can you watch it without welling up?

Last week I moved to a new part of town, still in the center of Oaxaca but in the less touristy more local part. I wasn’t sure I wanted to move over here, partly because it is away from a lot of my friends and a bit of a walk from my usual haunts. However, in the week or so of being here I have been reminded of so many of the things that I love about Mexico and the reasons I chose to live here…

The Way People Acknowledge Each Other

Mexicans still seem to have the sense that we are all human beings that should acknowledge and talk to each other.  Whilst sitting having lunch in a Comida Corrida place (comida corrida is a lunch of 3 or four courses and a flavoured water that usually costs about forty pesos- £2/ £3 USD) every person that entered said either good afternoon or bon appetit to me, even the children. It is very normal here to walk into a restaurant and acknowledge everyone and to once again say bon appetit (Provecho in Spanish) upon leaving. I love it! It makes me feel accepted and part of Mexico every time. In fact, I once wrote a whole blog on the word provecho, which I never published. This has reminded me that I will have to search it out!

The Markets

Admittedly, I had an incredible market right on my doorstep in my old place, but there is something extra Mexican about the market I am near now. Every vendor gives me tips on how to use the food I am buying and tells me what new things they will be getting soon. I had a long discussion with one market stall owner about the price of eggs and how they had gone up tremendously (something like 150% in the last year) and how we were going to have to think of new alternative breakfasts, since so many traditional breakfasts here have eggs as the main ingredients!

I love that when I eat at the market all the eateries work together with the stalls. I can order juice and they will go to get it from the juice lady and when I pay them they give her her split of the money.  It’s a win-win situation.

I also love that I might get the chance to watch a Mexican soap opera whilst having a quick snack!

Mostly I love the life and the vibrancy of the market. The noise, the smells, the sights and the tastes and I love that a statue of Saint Jude has his own little alter right in the middle of it all!

Local Shops

Walking round my new neighbourhood, I sometimes feel like I am in a new city. There are tiny shops selling roasted coffee, stores offering what looks like homebrew Mezcal, hardware stores, fabric shops and even a man sat in what is essentially a tiny hole in the wall selling computer equipment (perfect, because I wanted to buy a wireless mouse!) I popped around the corner to buy hooks to hang pictures and then a few blocks down I picked material for curtains that will be made at the store. I can’t explain how much I love it! Sadly, my plan to spend 2013 without visiting a supermarket fell down when I moved but really if I had all the time in the world and a rolling basket I could have bought everything I needed in the local stores. Long live the local economy of Mexico!

I also get to admire these wonderful buildings that make my heart skip a beat!

As a result of my move I have found myself smiling more, interacting with people more and generally feeling more like I really live in Mexico.

So if you’ll excuse me I am off to enjoy a fresh juice at the market, whilst chatting about the price of butter before going to pick up my curtains!

A little more information:

1) This is the beautiful Santo Domingo Church built in 1546 by Dominican friars. It is an iconic landmark of San Cristobal de las Casas in Chiapas

2) Going to Xochimilco is the perfect Sunday trip for the family or for a big group of friends. You can hire the boat and the oarsman and then boat up and down the canal listening to Mariachis, having food prepared and brought onto your boat and buying beers or cooling micheladas from the passing drinks boat. It is such great fun!

3) This picture depicts the Dance of the Flyers. To learn more about its significance, and for clearer photos (!) check out my blog post here.

4) Frida Kahlo’s garden is home to a miniature mesoamerican pyramid as well as the statues and icons shown in the photo. Her house known as the Blue House, La Casa Azul is located in Coyoacan in the South of Mexico City and is open to the public as a museum.

5) Mitla is a Zapotec archeological site, located in Oaxaca. It has some of the clearest Zapotec mosaic work and much of the site is still a deep red that it would have been at the time of its use.

6) The Soumaya Museum can be found in Polanco, Mexico City. It is owned by the Carlos Slim Foundation (Mexican Carlos Slim is the richest man in the world) and was designed by his architect son-in-law.

7) The church in Chamula is the thing that attracts interested outsiders to the town. Its mix of mesoamerican traditional ritual and Catholic belief make it a site to behold. Read all about it in my blog here.

8) Juchitan has one of the most distinct traditional dresses of Mexico. The headdress is almost reminiscent of a white lion’s main, whilst the dress is made of thick velvet and embroidered with beautiful flowers. There are a few stories of why such a thick dress became traditional in such a hot and humid climate. One is that it was introduced from France by a Governor’s wife who hailed from Paris

9) Guadalajara, and the state of Jalisco in general are the home of many things that we think of when we think of traditional Mexico. Think tequila, mariachis, folkloric dance…

10) Cafe de Tacuba can be found in the Historic Center of Mexico City.  It offers traditional Mexican food, with passing musicians ready to play your favourite Mexican anthem, whilst you gaze at the beautiful tiled interior. Mexico also has a famous band, Cafe Tacuba, who named themselves after the restaurant. They, like the restaurant, are definitely worth checking out.

If you fancy testing yourself further, check out the Mexico Retold, Sounds of Oaxaca quiz. Do you know what Mexico sounds like?

The main road is certainly busier than the dirt track I remember from 8 years earlier

Chamula is famous for its church and the locals’ rather unorthodox use of it. Having paid our 15 peso entrance fee (this gives you an idea of the tourist spectacle that the church is) and having been told that taking photos was strictly forbidden (some say out of respect for people’s worship, others say the locals believe photos snap away their soul), we entered from the crisp bright day into the dark candle-lit church. One of the first things you notice, once your eyes adjust to the light, is that there are no pews in the church. Instead the ground is covered in green pine needles and the ceiling has great swaths of cloth hung from side to side. The edge of the main area of the church is lined with statues of saints whose images are rather different to that you would see in most Catholic churches. These saints are adorned with unusual ornaments like pineapples and flowers and their clothes were often covered in mirrors, which are believed by Chamulans to deflect the evil sprits. We were forbidden from taking photographs in the church but here is an image I found taken by another visitor: http://adambeyondborders.blogspot.mx/ The church is lit only by candles and worshipers sit on the floor setting up lines of candles around them or in front of them. I watched a man painstakingly line up around 200 small candles on the floor, sticking each one to the surface with a tiny drop of molten wax. His focus never wavered. His meditative state indicating that this act played a role in his ritual worship. He, unlike most of the other worshippers we saw was alone. The others came in groups or pairs and sat together in ritual practice. It is important to explain the church at San Juan Chamula, is an interesting example of the syncretism often found in Mexico of Mesoamerican belief and ritual mixed with Catholicism. It is something that I find fascinating and have written about before. In many cases it goes unquestioned and beliefs can become a standardized form of Mexican Catholicism, however in the case of Chamula, the church has been rather less accepting and according to reports (although I could find no official evidence) it has been excommunicated from the Catholic church. The locals are known to be rather vehement about their beliefs and the community is very small, therefore, anyone converting to Protestantism is extradited from the community and made to leave the town. This is a rather sad and ironic fact if you think about the history of Mexico.

The market in the plaza outside of the church

 Ritual

Our eyes fully adjusted to the candlelight we ventured further into the church and were immediately drawn to the site of two women and a young boy sitting surrounded by candles, glass bottles of coca-cola and a live white chicken. We watched as a few moments later one of the women began passing a live chicken over another lady’s body. The chicken didn’t make a sound or move an inch. The woman holding the chicken chanted in low, base tones, whilst the woman being cleansed, sat with her eyes closed. This went on for quite a while and still the bird did not move or struggle. Engrossed in the ritual, we didn’t see a man dressed in the traditional black woolen tunic of Chamula, walk up beside us. We became aware of his presence when he whispered that he was a shaman and could perform a limpia (traditional cleanse) for us. A slight smell of alcohol tinged his breath and I couldn’t help feel that he could have been anybody, his traditional dress and his presence in the church perhaps used to fool tourists into believing he was a shaman. We politely declined and turned back to watch the ritual taking place before us. However, the ritual was now over and the chicken was being shaken upside down violently until it gave up the fight for life and went limp. The lady stuffed the chicken into a bag along with the pine needles it had been sitting on and tied a knot in the bag. The two women slowly gathered their things and made their way out of the church with the little boy in tow. The front of the church drew us in next, with its abundance of flowers and fruit, creating a colourful centerpiece. It was clear that the flowers are replenished regularly and that great loving care goes into the upkeep of the church. As we admired the flowers, engulfed in their fragrance, I heard the sound of a man spitting, and by spitting I mean really going for it, clearing those lungs. We looked around to see a man cleansing a woman with herbs and spitting on the ground beside him at frequent intervals. The idea is that the man, being a shaman, can extract the bad spirits or illness from his patient through his body and then spit it out on to the ground. It wasn’t particularly nice to watch but the patient was looking pleased with the process.

Coca-Cola

It is not just spitting that Chamulan’s believe rid one of evil spirits but also burping. What I didn’t mention is that every ritual that we saw at the church involved Coca-Cola. Every group involved in ritual practice had glass bottles of Coke with them. Generally we saw people drink it in shot glasses, almost as if they were taking a medicine.  It is said that Coca-Cola was introduced to Chamula in 1962 and that the Coca-Cola dealer is the richest man in town. Coca Cola and Pepsi wars continue in the village, with each company fighting for the strong hold claiming that there product is better for the removal of bad spirits. Coca Cola’s current dominations was clear upon entering the town where we saw that they had made a special Christmas billboard advertisement, just for Chamula, depicting a man in local dress holding a bottle of Coke! Leaving the church we made our way out of the town via the graveyard. Here the colour of the cross gives you an idea of the age of the deceased. Black is for someone elderly, white is for children and blue is for any age in between. The graveyard is beautiful in its rugged irregularity and the church on the site, stands elegantly, its roof being the sky. Whilst we were there we happened to witness the funeral of an important man in the village. He had died some days earlier but because of Christmas his funeral had been delayed. A brass band played and fireworks were let off across the village and eulogies were given in the Tzotzil Mayan language by the village leaders dressed in their black tunics. As we left the town we saw three men stripping off their black tunics and traditional hats, jumping into a Honda and driving away. I guess that’s the modern-day reality of San Juan Chamula.

We came across these locals queuing for their pensions in their black and white tunics

Mexico Retold began out of a love of Mexico and the desire to celebrate a country that has undoubtedly touched my soul. So when I was asked to be an ambassador for the 2013 Real Heroes of Mexico Awards, run by the Mexico Report, I jumped at the chance. What can be more wonderful than to be given the chance to celebrate the many incredible people I know, that go above and beyond to make a difference to Mexico? And it isn’t just me that can make nominations, you can too! So if you know someone doing incredible work for Mexico in any field, why not let the world know by nominating them by 12th May, using the form below.

Here’s the press release that explains a little more:

http://themexicoreport.com/real-heroes-of-mexico/2013-real-heroes-of-mexico-press-release/

And the nomination form:

http://themexicoreport.com/real-heroes-of-mexico/nominate-a-hero/

Happy nominating #fortheloveofmexico

For the last week or so I have been recording the sounds of Oaxaca and have put together a little quiz on the different sounds. How many will you be able to get?

Every Seller has a Sound

Perhaps these jeans are just so good at lifting the bum that they can’t be taken off even in 90 degree heat!

For a long time I was totally bewildered by this, then I saw a Mexican baby in a pram and it all made sense! Babies are wrapped up in about five hundred blankets, given wooly hats and even gloves on days when if I had a child they would probably be running free, in a t-shirt, a pair of undies and not much else. Oaxacans are accustomed from a young age to deal with the heat and to feel the cold. Being a Londoner I am accustomed to just the opposite.

I must say, we humans adapt quickly though. My first summer here I stood out completely wearing flip-flops and shorts in the city, completely shocked that culturally what I was wearing was almost unacceptable and certainly made me more of a target for catcalls in the street. It was, and still is, easy to spot foreigners in the street, more by their choice of clothes than their physical appearance.  Overtime however, I started to adapt, wearing jeans on days where foreigners new to the city would look at me with the same painful look I give the Oaxacans who still remain leagues ahead of me. Sometimes I wonder if there isn’t a pride thing amongst foreigners who can deal with jeans on a hot day. It is almost a statement of “I am far more Oaxacan than you” because I wear jeans in 90 degree heat.

Either way, in this kind of heat I would prefer to be at the beach with a coconut water and the cool sea to stop me melting.

I have to admit I have never heard of St Jude until I came to Mexico, where suddenly I saw his icon everywhere.  In fact, when I first heard his name (San Judas, in Mexico), I wondered if he were the Judas who had betrayed Jesus. It soon became clear, however, that they were definitely not the same guy.

St Jude Thaddeus (San Judas Tadeo, in Spanish) is usually portrayed with the crown or flame of the Pentecost (from receiving the Holy Spirit) above his head, wearing a green robe and carrying a gold medal depicting Jesus’ face.  St Jude is regarded as the Saint of Lost Causes, the saint you call upon when all else fails.

Saint Jude is seen to be particularly helpful in issues of health, money and relationships and is revered by people who feel that all other hope is lost.  Living in Mexico, I have heard so many stories of miracles received from Saint Jude. One lady I spoke to explained that she prayed to Saint Jude that she would return to live in the USA with her children, when it seemed impossible that this could occur. She asked to be able to live once again in the US even if it was far away from California where her children were. Later that very evening she returned home to news that her husband had been offered work in Miami and they were moving back. In hindsight she wished she hadn’t mentioned the bit about going anywhere in the US! Upon arrival in the States she discovered that her house was right next to the Church of Saint Jude. If she needed any more proof that Saint Jude had granted her wish, she said, there it was!

I have also heard stories of pregnancies when all hope was lost, miraculous returns to health after terminal diagnoses’, and money arriving just in time to save someone from serious problems. In addition, people have told me that just having a picture of Saint Jude with them gives them hope in difficult times and helps them to feel that they are not alone.

Nearly every taxi I ride in has a Saint Jude icon perching on the dashboard or a Saint Jude card attached to the sun visor. Since Jude is the saint of lost causes he has become associated with the poorest of Mexico as well as the addicts and criminals. Every 28^th of the month in Mexico City’s San Hipólito Church people gather with their icons of St Jude, to be blessed and to ask for miracles. Many people carry life-size icons and others come dressed as the saint. On his saint’s day, October 28^th, the church bursts with devotees.

But unlike Santa Muerte (the Saint of Death, who is often associated with Mexico’s underworld), Saint Jude’s appeal goes across the board, because most people can think of a time when they have felt like hope is lost and that is when Saint Jude is called upon. Therefore, among the Catholics of Mexico, Jude is a very important saint, closely following the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Below is the prayer often offered to Saint Jude. I must admit that I find it a little hard to process as the wording is so dismissive of a person’s own autonomy but here it is:

Oh glorious apostle St. Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the name of the traitor who delivered thy beloved Master into the hands of His enemies has caused thee to be forgotten by many, but the Church honors and invokes thee universally as the patron of hopeless cases–of things despaired of. Pray for me who am so miserable; make use, I implore thee, of that particular privilege accorded thee of bringing visible and speedy help where help is almost despaired of. Come to my assistance in this great need, that I may receive the consolations and succor of heaven in all my necessities, tribulations and sufferings, particularly (mention your request), and that I may bless God with thee and all the elect throughout eternity. I promise thee, O blessed St. Jude, to be ever mindful of this great favor, and I will never cease to honor thee as my special and powerful patron, and to do all in my power to encourage devotion to thee. Amen

Some great photos of St Jude’s feast day in Mexico City can be found here, definitely worth a look!

http://roadsandkingdoms.com/2012/st-jude/

http://www.chron.com/news/gallery/Saint-Jude-the-Saint-of-lost-causes-33899/photo-1973715.php

http://www.demotix.com/news/1559745/modern-cult-san-judas-tadeon-active-mexico-city#media-1559807

Last year was my first experience of a reenactment of the Passion of Christ on Viernes Santo (Good Friday). Having studied religion at University, I am intrigued by all such events and had wanted to attend one for as long as I knew they existed. What intrigues me the most is the energy of the spectators, watching how they are moved by the scene, how a reenactment can feel so real to them.

This particular “crucifixion” took place in a small town called Animas Trujano, about fifteen minutes outside of the center of Oaxaca. We discovered that the young man playing Jesus was in his second year in the role, an honour seen to be extremely great amongst the townspeople. He played it with emotion and drama, his eyes depicting, pain and courage and exhaustion all at once.

The reenactment began outside the church, with Jesus being sentenced to death by crucifixion by the Roman Emperor, Pontius Pilot. His crown of thorns was placed on his head and blood (not real, but very realistic) began to trickle down his face.

Then began the walk in the midday sun, to the Stations of the Cross. I have to admit that by station four we cheated and went for tacos and hibiscus water, because the heat was just too much. This only highlights the devotion of the crowd, determined to follow Jesus in his journey towards crucifixion despite the April sun pounding down on them.

We caught up with the crowd at the cerro (hill) and watched as the Romans raised Jesus onto the cross, whilst Mary Magdalene wept below him. His shout of “Dios por que me has abandonado? (God why have you forsaken me?) sent shivers down even my spine as it echoed across the crowd. The shivers quickly subsided however, when the phone of the man standing behind me began to ring and he answered it loudly in pure Mexican slang “Qué onda wey? Estoy en la crucifixión” (What’s up dude? I’m at the crucifixion). Apparently even the crucifixion of Jesus isn’t a reason to turn off your phone in Mexico.