Queretaro, Mexico, April 24th, 2009: Machismo - perpetuated by a woman

April 24th, 2009: The office of the Queretaro Ministry of Tourism gave away postcards with pictures of tourist and cultural sites. You fill them out with an address and a message, and they mail them for you for free. It’s my brother Stuart’s birthday, so I make one out for him, then ask if I can send more. They let me send to the whole family (pretty inexpensive advertising for the city– what a great idea). I think they arrive about four months later though. Probably sent only when the box fills up…

Nancy and I have lunch with a friend of hers in a café inside of a bookstore. We have the Comida Corrida (sometimes called Comida Corriente) – a set meal or the’ meal of the day’ – common for Mexico. An inexpensive meal the restaurant chooses for that day. You can order off the regular menu but it will be more expensive and take longer. I don’t recall now what it was, other than it was wonderful. And they also brought out a pitcher of Agua de something. Agua de sandia or agua de pina (pineapple water) – a lightly sweetened juice/water blend.

The friend is an American woman who is married to a Mexican man, and she is horrified by the story I tell of my meal the night before. I should not have talked to men I don’t know, I certainly should not have eaten with them, and definitely not let them pay for my meal (as if I had a choice in that). They were after ‘you know what’. I state they were both married, wore wedding rings, and told me about their wives. That doesn’t matter, she insists, just told for clarification purposes when they try to get you know what anyway. Then she asks a bit confused as it is not common practice among Mexican men, “They were wearing rings?” When I tell her they asked if I had a safe way home, walked me to the taxi stand and left, she could not let go of her doubt about their intent. Nancy and I both agree later that we are glad we don’t have such fears about talking to strangers. It also is indicative of her expectations of her own husband, or perhaps of Mexican women’s expectations regarding their Mexican husbands. Of course one should be wise and not naïve, but as she was married to a Mexican man well known in the city, she would not have the same freedom we did as tourists. And she has a reputation – both hers and her husband’s - to protect.

This is an important lesson – that as a resident in another culture it is important to learn the norms of behavior, and how it is interpreted by that culture – especially when it comes to relationships between men and women. And while male–female friendships are a norm, or taken for granted as possible, in the US … it appears no one believes it is possible in a Latin culture. (Yes, I am foreshadowing trouble in my future.)

It is also perhaps why American tourists, especially women, are seen as “loose” or “easy” sexually. I cannot comment on the actual accuracy of that, though my guess it is not as true as many think – but I do know that what really happens is not as important as what others think happens. If women tells a man ‘let’s just be friend’ and the man’s friends think he was intimate with the woman, only the rare man (Latino or not) is going to try to set the record straight.

Heather J. Kirk

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Queretaro, Mexico - April 23, 2012, Part 2 - alone in the evening

April 23, 2009 – the evening in Queretaro, Mexico

I loved sitting on the roof garden - watering the plants there, or viewing the city and the sunset.

That night Nancy encourages me to go into town alone. She says that, like her, I have had a lot of travel experience. She knows I won’t be afraid to go out alone, and because my Spanish is so good (something I am quickly doubting) she is sure I will get along just fine.

I now realize why my Dominican story starts here…Nancy told me I could do it, had confidence in me being able to travel safely and confidently in a Spanish speaking country, long before I knew I would even go to the DR, especially alone.

I attend a poetry reading at the Galeria Libertad, and new art gallery – mid conversion, with an upstairs room for events. The reading is packed, and though they run out of folding chairs and many are standing in the back, a man gives up his seat for me – right in the middle of a row.

Poet Antonio Deltoro reads from his book “El Quieto” for a short time, and then a university professor and two students read really long academic papers evaluating him. If I understood a small portion of the poetry (at least the genre leaves room for personal interpretation) I am completely lost during the horrendous academic readings – I sit for an hour and a half trapped. My Spanish education, starting in 7th grade going through four years of college plus working as a bilingual counselor in schools for 8 years having ZERO value – with this master’s level literary criticism Spanish coming toward me at break neck speed.

Afterward, I peruse restaurants around Plaza de las Armas. At Ristorante 1810 two men look over my shoulder at the menu, so I walk away to let them see better. At the exact same time the waitress asks “Mesa por 3?” One man asks, “Aren’t you going to eat, did we cut in front of you?” I say, “I thought you’d prefer a table for two”. Misinterpreting what I am saying, the two attractive men look at each other, then suddenly step away from each other, insisting they are just friends. I laugh as they tell the waitress, ‘Yes, a table for three, please.’ So I eat with them.

Because my mind is mush after the poetry reading, it is a good thing that when my Spanish falters, they understand English perfectly. Yet they refuse to translate one item on the menu – Escamoles. And although they do say in Spanish exactly what it is “huevos de hormigas” I can’t remember what hormigas are. They say it is the Mexican version of caviar. I explain I don’t eat fish or fish eggs. They laugh and say, “Let us order.” They order everything – every appetizer, a plate of this, a few of those. Most things I enjoy greatly, but after a bite of their ‘caviar,’ which is not horrible, but certainly not good, I suddenly remember hormigas are ants!

I can tell by the look of the Chinicuiles that I don’t even want to know what they are. But I bet you do!
Blogger: Heather J. Kirk

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April 22 -23 (Part 1), 2009: First days in Queretaro, Mexico - Taxis can't find us

April 22, 2009. Arrive in the Queretaro Airport at 8:08 pm, and take a taxi to La Loma Dorada (the Golden Knoll / Hill). At first I thought the name was because the area high above town was fairly wealthy, but it turns out that during part of the year the hillside is covered with yellow flowers that turn it ‘golden”. A much more poetic reason. (Though not in bloom in my picture - so clearly not in April.) A 40 minute taxi ride costs me about $15.

April 23, 2009. The house is old Spanish style architecture, with a courtyard and fountain in the center, and many doors leading to the two bedrooms, the kitchen, the living room and an office. There are gardens around the outside of the house, yet inside a locked perimeter wall. Several male renters live in apartments below. Every morning we have fresh squeezed orange juice that is out of this world. A maid comes every few days to clean, do laundry and perhaps make a simple meal. I try to help with the animals every morning and night, but although the birds are exotic and beautiful, they make lots of noise and peck when you feed them or clean the cage, so I let Nancy handle that. When their cages are covered at night they calm down, thank goodness! The dogs are fierce and wild, but I prefer them because of the security they provide. Periodically they escape, but only once did we have to chase them down, as they know where the food comes from and they return on their own.

Nancy always lets me call for the taxi. The first time I didn’t mind, but became more nervous with every call. In spite of them getting used to my voice and saying they knew where to send the taxi, it always came to a different spot. We eventually started standing in the middle of the main road up the hill. Though I will leave out the house number, here is what I had to say. “La Loma Dorada, Retorno Loma de Queretaro Numero X, espero en la Esquina con Paseo Loma de Queretaro.” Yes, I say I’ll be waiting at the corner of two different streets with similar names. If that didn’t work I gave them a completely different house number and street address – which sometimes helped, sometimes didn’t. The first day we go into town and walked around the square – full of restaurants with outside tables, churches, museums, art galleries. Amazing architecture, parks, fountains, families playing, couples strolling, all the park benches full of people watching or talking or reading. I am immediately enamored.

Heather J. Kirk

Invitation to Queretaro

April 2009

Perhaps a visit to Queretaro, Mexico, in April of 2009 is a strange place to officially start “Calendar Memoirs,” a blog about my 8 months in the Dominican Republic in 2010. But I have put off starting for so long, perhaps I had to reach back to the true beginnings.

Cousin Nancy (my father’s cousin) was special to me for many reasons, but one was that, other than my brothers, I considered her the last living relative of my deceased father. They were very close as children on into adulthood. Nancy and I had many shared interests, and I hope calling myself an intellectual like her is not too presupposing. We both love art, learning, museums, and history within the cultural context.

Nancy and her second husband Hank lived in various countries teaching English as a Second Language, and as an older adult Nancy started taking Spanish classes. Nancy decided to house-sit for a month in Queretaro, Mexico, and asked me to join her for the week following Hank’s return to their home in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I think there was something comforting in having me with her, as one of my degrees is in Spanish.

Heather J. Kirk