Author Archives: Dianne Hofner Saphiere

Customs Related to New Year’s


Last year, our first New Year’s as almost-residents, we spent a wonderful New Year’s Eve in the multicultural home of our dear friends María and Bill. Bill is a Scotsman, María a Mazatleca, and they met, married and began raising their children in the Arab Gulf. Anyway, it is with María and Bill that we first learned the Mexican custom of eating grapes on New Year’s Eve. 12 grapes, sometimes in two different colors, one for each month of the new year. 12 wishes for the new year. You eat each grape as you make your wish–save room!

The other interesting New Year’s custom I learned about was that those who wish to travel in the New Year take their empty suitcases out into the street on New Year’s Day. It brings good fortune of the travel-related variety:)

This morning in the newspaper I’ve learned yet a third interesting New Year’s-related custom: women buy new lingerie (bras and panties) just prior to the New Year. On New Year’s Eve/Day, to greet the new year, they buy and wear either Red (they want love in the New Year) or Yellow (they want money in the New Year). The lingerie shops around town report to the newspaper that traditionally red intimate wear has far outsold the yellow. However, this year, yellow was the top seller. Yet another example of the multitude of ways that economic hardship touches lives.

Favorite Things in Mazatlán

Fresh seafood, of course! Life here means waking up, getting Danny off to school, and walking or biking the malecón (oceanside promenade) with a cooler. We may decide to visit the pescaderos (fishermen) at their pangas (boats) in Playa Norte, or one of the two little pescaderías right across the street, to buy pargo (seabream), lenguado (sole), huachinango (snapper), or maybe sierra (saw fish) for a good ceviche. We can buy enough fish for two meals for US$3.50, or pay a bit more for swordfish or dorado, and significantly less for octopus (sometimes US$1 per kilo!) or squid. We might buy a kilo of fresh prawns for 40 pesos (US$4), or oysters from the ostioneros as they come to shore with their inner tubes and netting (US$4/dozen). We have some great conversation, beautiful views, shop for lunch, and exercise, all at an easy pace and before beginning our work day.

Zarandeado (bbq), al mojo de ajo (garlic sauce), a la parilla (roasted), in ceviche (marinated in lime juice), or raw, Mazatlán’s seafood and seafood sellers have me singing “el gran orgullo de ser de Mazatlán!” (the great pride of being from Mazatlán)
—–

The Green Man. Yes, he is one of my favorite things here in Mazatlán, along with dozens of other really cool and unique vehicles of all descriptions. The first time we saw him, he was also dressed up all in green and wearing a green helmet with horns, like a Jolly Green Giant version of a Viking. These days he’s added the cart to the back of his bike, and he always has his dog with him.

Spanglish

Creisi (Crazy)

Seen on Halloween: Jappy Jalloween! (“J”s in Spanish are of course pronounced as English “H”s)

Plis (Please), as in “plis jelp”
In a newspaper cartoon: a sketch of Obama saying “Busshit!”
In the toy store, a game of “Whack the Mole” that was a play on the word “guacamole:” “Juaca Mole”

“Jot dog!” I think you know what it means.

Happy birthday to you 🙂

I love you very very much 😉

Ultra Ben-Gay, seen at Maratón, to comfort sore muscles 🙂

Los Pescaderos/The Fishermen

One of our dreams in moving to Mazatlán has been to be more physically active in the course of daily life, to be able to enjoy the outdoors more, and to eat more healthily of fresh, whole foods. With these dreams in mind, we’ve taken a long walk or bike ride most every morning along the malecón, the oceanside promenadehere in Mazatlán. A round trip bike ride from our house to the Pedro Infante statue is about 8 miles. A walk from our house to the pescaderos (fishing boats) and back is about 3 1/2 miles.

What is truly special for me is the fact that we can enjoy the incredibly gorgeous views, people-watch Mazatlecos of all ages and walks of life exercising, and we can buy fresh fish directly from the fishermen as they put in in the morning. This season of the year (June-August) they seem to come in between 7:30 and 8:30 am. Most of them have an axle with two wheels that can cradle their boat as they bring it up on the beach. Once they arrive, they unload their fish, put some of it up by the malecón for sale to the public, and take most of it across the street to what appears to be a cooperative store. They then head back to their boats to make fresh ceviche (cut up fish, carrots, lots of lime juice, onion) and wash it down usually with a ballena (whale, large bottle) of Pacifico beer (our local brew). 8:30 or 9:00 in the morning is already their lunch time. Most of the fishermen are very friendly and happy, and the boat launch beach is quite the community hangout, especially in the morning. You can see this photo I took of a domino game on the beach.

The boats are all small lanchas, with outboard motors, and seem to hold 2-4 fishermen. The lanchas remind us of the fishing boats in Cinque Terre, Italy, but they are not painted quite as colorfully. Most are named after women; we are guessing wives’ names, daughters’, girlfriends’.

If we are a little too early or too late, there is a sort of fishermen’s cooperative store right across the street from the boat launch beach. The prices are amazing, and so far there has always been a good selection. Over the last couple of months the people have gotten to know us already. The store manager is more than happy to teach me about the best methods for cooking which kind of fish. They seem to stay open as long as they have fish, so it’s best to go early.
Another thing that is amazing to me is that in the big supermarkets (Mega, Soriana…), they usually have frozen fish, not fresh. All the more impetus to take my daily walk or bike ride! I have a little basket on my front handlebars, and I carry a little cooler with ice. I can then put in the fresh fish, or pork, beef or chicken if I go to the mercado on the way also, and carry it all back safe and cool.
I’ve tried out a few new recipes, relying mostly on mangoes, limes, onion, chiles, cilantro, occasionally some cream or curry powder. Mmmm. I have not yet tried to make ceviche, as buying it is affordable and just so convenient, but I look forward to trying it out.

You’re Not in Kansas Anymore


We picked Danny up from Boy Scout camp on Saturday, June 14, 2008, my friend Basma’s wedding anniversary, to begin our big adventure. Before leaving Leawood we had to stop one last time to say goodbye to our dog, Nacho, who now lives with good friends on their acreage.

The day before we departed had been the 35th anniversary of my first airplane ride. This time we were driving: a Honda Civic hybrid, loaded to the gills with three people, four computers, and loads of other have-to-have-right-away goodies. Needless to say, we wwaaayyyyyy exceeded the weight limit of the vehicle and the car barely cleared the ground.

We drove diagonally through Kansas—truly a beautiful state. We knew we’d miss the prairie, the Flint Hills. We were psyched to be able to drive through Greensburg, the town so devastated by the tornado and now rebuilding itself as a world-leading green city. What an encouraging way to leave the US. We spent our first night in Liberal, Kansas, two blocks from Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of Oz; quite fitting, we felt.

The journey went really quickly and smoothly. Good highways the whole way, we met all terrific people, and it was fun counting the states. We crossed the border in Nogales, where we had our foreign resident cards stamped, and 50km or so later registered our car. Hooray!!! ¡Bienvenidos!

Crossing over the thousands of topes (speed bumps) on the journey through Mexico was not easy given our heavy load, and we had to stop at a mechanic’s once to have something underneath the car tied back up. The only really hairy episode was at one point on the highway in Sonora. Greg was driving, and heading towards us on two wheels, out of control and loaded to three times the height of the cab, comes a pickup truck. Greg froze: heading to the right would take us off the road and into a deep ditch, no doubt flipping us; heading left would take us into the path of the pickup if he was able to right the truck and course-correct; staying where we were seemed to be suicide. Fortunately, the driver was able to get back on all four wheels and onto his own side of the road, and all was well.

We spent our third night, the only night on the road in Mexico, in a “Romance Hotel.” Pulling in it looked great: advertising air conditioning, cable television, room service. It looked clean and new and very private; like a Japanese “love hotel,” you drive straight into a garage with your car, close the door, and no one sees who you are; great for secret trysts. Once we were in the room, we realized the AC didn’t work and the window didn’t open; we were stuck in a steam bath! We ordered dinner delivered, but when they brought it, they couldn’t get the garage door (only door to the outside) to open; the switch had come loose and fallen inside the cement block wall. No worries. We survived, spent one of the most steamy, sweaty nights of our lives, but the next day we made it to our new home and all was well. Seeing that ocean in front of us made everything good!