A Love Affair with Mexico
by Christie Seeley
vallartasounds.com
Published in PV Mirror
My love affair with Mexico began with a clip showing on our black and white console television in Corvallis, Oregon, back in the '50s. A couple was singing a romantic duet on the veranda of a simple adobe dwelling in a desert setting.
"In my adobe hacienda, there's a touch of Mexico. With cactus lovelier than orchids, blooming in the patio."
The image of "sweet guitars playing softly under stars" stayed with me. I suspect it influenced many of my decisions.
When I was newly married to my first husband, we took a trip with his brother and wife to Mexico. We were students and poor, but his brother and his wife had a new Volkswagen bus, and we decided to go along on the adventure. At the border, we met two young men who were also on a budget, so we agreed to make the trip together to save money.
The fellows, who were cousins, were headed to Mexico City, where they had an uncle. Tony was doing his Ph.D. at Harvard on Trotsky in Mexico, and Barry was a med student at Columbia. Tony introduced me to the writing of Carlos Fuentes, of whom I became a great fan, and told tales of his life in Cuernavaca to where, as a small child, his father, a screenwriter, fled the shameful witch hunt in Hollywood by the FBI during the late '40s and early '50s. Tony has subsequently detailed these times in a podcast called Blacklisted. (See his website: https://www.tonykahn.org/blacklisted) It is very revealing.
We encountered thunder and lightning during the trip, which frightened all but Barry, who assured us as long as we were in the car with rubber tires and made no contact with the road, we would be okay. There were killer mosquitos in San Blas, Nayarit, Montezuma's revenge at lovely Lago de Patzcuaro, rain forests and clouds crossing through the mountains from Morelia to Mexico City. We finally arrived at our fellow travelers' destination and went on to meet up with the brothers' mom and sister downtown.
My husband's family traveled on to Acapulco. At the same time, we took a bus south through Tasco and Tepotzlan to indulge our fascination with Robert Redfield's study "From Tepotzlan to Merida" and with ancient Mexican culture. We loved the magical feeling of this small, untouched town. For us, it was probably the highlight of the trip.
Years later, I moved to Guadalajara with my second husband, where I planned to stay forever. My oldest daughter was born there, and my husband and I created a simple business making and selling women's clothing around the local markets in what is called Tianguis. We had to be up at 4:00 AM, pack up our merchandise and transport it to the market we would work that day. It was an ordeal to obtain a space until eventually, we could secure regular spots in the six distinct markets where we offered our creations for sale. Working the Tianguis was a chore. We had to put up rustic awnings to protect ourselves and the clothing from the hot sun and rainstorms depending on the season and build and display our wares on iron pipes' apparatus, which we constructed every morning.
Our life was quite different from what I had imagined in that romantic little clip on the TV so long ago. As they say, "Asi es la Vida." (That’s life).
I now spend most of my time in Puerto Vallarta where I have found true contentment enjoying the music of “sweet guitars playing softly under stars...” I never lost my enchantment with this lovely country, and I believe I never will.
by Christie Seeley
vallartasounds.com
Published in PV Mirror
My love affair with Mexico began with a clip showing on our black and white console television in Corvallis, Oregon, back in the '50s. A couple was singing a romantic duet on the veranda of a simple adobe dwelling in a desert setting.
"In my adobe hacienda, there's a touch of Mexico. With cactus lovelier than orchids, blooming in the patio."
The image of "sweet guitars playing softly under stars" stayed with me. I suspect it influenced many of my decisions.
When I was newly married to my first husband, we took a trip with his brother and wife to Mexico. We were students and poor, but his brother and his wife had a new Volkswagen bus, and we decided to go along on the adventure. At the border, we met two young men who were also on a budget, so we agreed to make the trip together to save money.
The fellows, who were cousins, were headed to Mexico City, where they had an uncle. Tony was doing his Ph.D. at Harvard on Trotsky in Mexico, and Barry was a med student at Columbia. Tony introduced me to the writing of Carlos Fuentes, of whom I became a great fan, and told tales of his life in Cuernavaca to where, as a small child, his father, a screenwriter, fled the shameful witch hunt in Hollywood by the FBI during the late '40s and early '50s. Tony has subsequently detailed these times in a podcast called Blacklisted. (See his website: https://www.tonykahn.org/blacklisted) It is very revealing.
We encountered thunder and lightning during the trip, which frightened all but Barry, who assured us as long as we were in the car with rubber tires and made no contact with the road, we would be okay. There were killer mosquitos in San Blas, Nayarit, Montezuma's revenge at lovely Lago de Patzcuaro, rain forests and clouds crossing through the mountains from Morelia to Mexico City. We finally arrived at our fellow travelers' destination and went on to meet up with the brothers' mom and sister downtown.
My husband's family traveled on to Acapulco. At the same time, we took a bus south through Tasco and Tepotzlan to indulge our fascination with Robert Redfield's study "From Tepotzlan to Merida" and with ancient Mexican culture. We loved the magical feeling of this small, untouched town. For us, it was probably the highlight of the trip.
Years later, I moved to Guadalajara with my second husband, where I planned to stay forever. My oldest daughter was born there, and my husband and I created a simple business making and selling women's clothing around the local markets in what is called Tianguis. We had to be up at 4:00 AM, pack up our merchandise and transport it to the market we would work that day. It was an ordeal to obtain a space until eventually, we could secure regular spots in the six distinct markets where we offered our creations for sale. Working the Tianguis was a chore. We had to put up rustic awnings to protect ourselves and the clothing from the hot sun and rainstorms depending on the season and build and display our wares on iron pipes' apparatus, which we constructed every morning.
Our life was quite different from what I had imagined in that romantic little clip on the TV so long ago. As they say, "Asi es la Vida." (That’s life).
I now spend most of my time in Puerto Vallarta where I have found true contentment enjoying the music of “sweet guitars playing softly under stars...” I never lost my enchantment with this lovely country, and I believe I never will.