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So as I mentioned earlier, my friend Tracy recently got married here in Mexico City to Juan, a Mexican. The wedding was really cool. The ceremony was earlier in the day and then pictures were taken in a very pretty park. We were joined by another wedding party in the park to enjoy the peaceful surroundings. Tracy’s dress was princess in full splendor with a huge skirt that she actually hid children under a few times. On the way out of the park to get back into our undecorated minivan, I elbowed Tracy in front of the other wedding party’s decorated jeep. While the guards are chuckling near by, Tracy slides in for a quick picture and then we make a quick get away. So sneaky.
The reception was really a fun experience. In some ways, the weddings are really different and in some ways they’re the same. They’re the same as an American wedding with the big party, lots of family and friends, decorations, cake, booze. They’re different because the family does EVERYTHING. One relative made the decorations, another couple of cousins took care of the music, several families cooked the entire meal and then served it to all of the guests, the groom’s brother made the margaritas and other relatives made an apartment available for wedding guests. There is no catering, no wedding planner, nada. Kind of amazing. We got there kind of early so it started off a little slow, with some of the Mexican relatives staring at us as we milled about and found the beer. As more people trickled in, we gringos found 1 ½ tables to call our own and we were eating before too long (tortillas, a corn soup, rice, chicken with mole sauce, pickled cactus salad, fried poblano peppers stuffed with cheese and a potato pancake thing) and the margaritas were in abundance.
Enter the mariachis. About ten mariachis were hired for the wedding (la boda) and they marched into the hall in full costume. On their pants they had silver designs going up their legs, one guys was horse heads. They meant mariachi business. They would form a semicircle around two tables and sing the diners a song and then blast their next song towards another end of the room. Of course, we gringos were included as well and they head mariachi asked us for requests. Unfortunately, my mariachi repertoire is limited to La Bamba and La Cucaracha and so we needed a little guidance. He was kind enough to give us a few titles to choose from and we randomly picked. Very fun.
After the Mariachis took their final bow, the cousins took over the music and played a fun blend of Mexican and American songs. It is amazing how much American music has infiltrated the rest of the world. I remember feeling the same amazement when I was traveling in France and Switzerland in high school. We had the cake cutting, the cake smashed in the face (a new and surprising tradition for the Mexican crowd, haha) and then we Americans learned of a Mexican tradition where the bride and groom stand on two chairs and form a bridge with their hands. The guests line up in a big conga line and rush through the bride and groom….trying to knock them off. Eh? First all of the ladies and girls went and were more gentle and then I was personally responsible for saving Tracy’s life as the men went through the bridge like a high school football team. Yikes! Juan got the worst of it and although he was knocked down a few times, there were enough bodies to cushion the fall. I think I’ll be leaving this one in Mexico.
The kids attending the wedding were having just as much fun as the adults (probably more fun than the sullen line of relatives who didn’t move from their stations the whole evening). Two of the little girls discovered that there were a bunch of snails hanging out outside and proceeded to collect nearly thirty of them and build them a “play ground”. She was pretty grossed out when I told her that the French eat snails and decided that she was not hungry for snails. Oh well.
The days preceding and following the wedding, I was able to hang out with Tracy’s friends from in town and the new family. The night before the wedding we went back to Xochimilco to have a big boat party. Originally the plan was to return to the same boat guy that we rode with the week before. Somehow plans changed, both the time and the location, while I was en route. It took longer than expected to get there and I was worried that the boat would leave without me and when I got to our designated spot, out of breath, there wasn’t anyone there. Damn! Ever “helpful” are the people trying to sell you rides or sell you anything, there was a guy on a bicycle ready to help this damsel in distress. (The first time we went to Xochimilco the bikers kept appearing out of nowhere to lead us to a certain boat…pretty funny: oh hello again! It’s you again! You are sooo helpful…again!) I called an American friend who had a Mexican phone but it was turned off and also called a Mexican friend and couldn’t really figure out what had happened or where everyone was. My helpful biker wasn’t keen on me using his phone to call Tracy’s American phone and three stores were out of phone cards. Double damn! Eventually, I was sitting on the side of the road feeling and apparently looking pitiful when Tracy shows up in a mini van to rescue me. The brother asked if I was as sad as I looked, and I said yes, I thought I was lost forever. Tracy and her brother had driven all over from the new location trying to find me at the old location and along the way picked up an actual helpful Mexican man who knew the way but couldn’t explain. What a miracle.
The boat party itself was super fun…what started as eighteen or so folks involved in either couch surfing or the wedding grew to twenty-five or twenty-six. We had music, we had beer and tequila and we were ready to party. I don’t know how it worked, but along the way other couch surfers found our boat and jumped on. Another miracle, I think. We passed the island of creepy dolls (has anyone heard of this? It is an island that is covered in baby dolls that are in various states of decay), passed other party boats and even had some fireworks.
After the boat party, we were in search of food and found a place making “tortas”, Mexico’s HUGE hot sandwiches. For $1.80 I got an enormous sandwich with eggs, cheese, some veggies and refried beans. And I ate every bite. Yum.
After the wedding two car loads of folks went two hours outside of the city to the teensy town where some of the relatives live. We drove through the beautiful mountains and enjoyed lovely views while telling the driver to keep his eyes on the road! We walked around a bit when we got there, but it was getting dark so the tour didn’t last long. We ate some left over wedding food that we’d brought with us and spent a while chit chatting in English, Spanish and interesting spanglish.
Mexicans tend to stay rooted in one house for much longer than we nomadic Americans. They just add on or build up as the budget allows to meet the needs of their expanding family. It was kind of easy to tell how the original house had been just two small rooms and then the kitchen was later expanded and the second bedroom was plopped on the roof. Six of us crashed in the upstairs bedroom that you walk up a winding staircase outside to get to. I love it how much the buildings here let in the outdoors. In American buildings, you are either inside or outside, period. Here, you walk outside of the kitchen across the patio to the bathroom, or across the patio in the other direction to head to our bedroom.
The next morning, we were greeted by the sight of a lizard climbing around on the lace curtain and called in the groom’s brother for backup. We also found three HUGE spiders hanging out in the hand towel. Apparently the upstairs bedroom isn’t used all that often. We ate some breakfast and walked into town. We were passed by several guys on horseback and one guy with a pair of mules with a bunch of grass strapped to their back. The tour of the tiny town took all of 3 seconds and we kept walking up a mountain (hill?) to see a beautiful vista of the town and the surrounding areas. A very different view of mexico from the Mexico city that I’ve been used to. Very tranquil and lovely.
For lunch most of us pitched in to make sopas, a lovely dish that involved homemade tortillas (I helped!) that were cooked in an outdoor “kitchen” of sorts over an open fire. My teacher, someone’s grandmother, had obviously made about a bazillion tortillas in her life and I was glad my lessons were coming from a professional. She had bought a big chunk dough from somewhere and it was wrapped in purple paper. This tiny little lady easily grabbed a hunk of the heavy dough and began to kneed in water to make the dry dough smooth and pliable. She rolled a bunch of balls and brought in the heavy artillery; the hand press. Enter the gringa. You wouldn’t think that there would be that much skill in pressing a ball of dough, but you’d be wrong. My first several were too thin (I am so strong) and then the problems continued with my incorrect removal from the press and my incorrect placement on the grill. Eventually I got it right and everyone was happy. I will be happy to share my budding skills with any interested party.
The scalding hot tortillas are removed from the fire and are pinched around the edges to make a kind of crust like on a pizza. My fingers were too tender for this work. These tortilla shells are then brought to the indoor kitchen and placed on another pan and topped with oil (we would hate to do anything low fat people), thin refried beans, a red salsa and cheese and heated until crispy. Meat eaters topped theirs with pulled chicken, I stuck with the heavenly guacamole and cream. Did I mention that the avocados came from trees in their yard? Yum!
I spent the first half of the drive back to the city trying not to throw up as the driver rode the brakes around curves and up and down hills. We stopped at a market trying to find corn on the cob and were immediately trapped as a huge storm dropped about six inches of water in the span of twenty minutes. There wasn’t corn, but I busied myself checking out the various stalls, looking at the tortilla makers because now I am a pro and buying candy and pirated DVD (3 DVDs for five dollars). We stopped again when we saw a corn stand and indulged in this yummy treat. Mexican corn on the cob is skewered on a wooden dowel, spread with mayo, rolled in a shredded cheese and sprinkled with chili powder. About a zillion grams of fat, but super delicious. The healthier option that I vetoed is corn with lime, chili and salt. Bring on the fat.
The reception was really a fun experience. In some ways, the weddings are really different and in some ways they’re the same. They’re the same as an American wedding with the big party, lots of family and friends, decorations, cake, booze. They’re different because the family does EVERYTHING. One relative made the decorations, another couple of cousins took care of the music, several families cooked the entire meal and then served it to all of the guests, the groom’s brother made the margaritas and other relatives made an apartment available for wedding guests. There is no catering, no wedding planner, nada. Kind of amazing. We got there kind of early so it started off a little slow, with some of the Mexican relatives staring at us as we milled about and found the beer. As more people trickled in, we gringos found 1 ½ tables to call our own and we were eating before too long (tortillas, a corn soup, rice, chicken with mole sauce, pickled cactus salad, fried poblano peppers stuffed with cheese and a potato pancake thing) and the margaritas were in abundance.
Enter the mariachis. About ten mariachis were hired for the wedding (la boda) and they marched into the hall in full costume. On their pants they had silver designs going up their legs, one guys was horse heads. They meant mariachi business. They would form a semicircle around two tables and sing the diners a song and then blast their next song towards another end of the room. Of course, we gringos were included as well and they head mariachi asked us for requests. Unfortunately, my mariachi repertoire is limited to La Bamba and La Cucaracha and so we needed a little guidance. He was kind enough to give us a few titles to choose from and we randomly picked. Very fun.
After the Mariachis took their final bow, the cousins took over the music and played a fun blend of Mexican and American songs. It is amazing how much American music has infiltrated the rest of the world. I remember feeling the same amazement when I was traveling in France and Switzerland in high school. We had the cake cutting, the cake smashed in the face (a new and surprising tradition for the Mexican crowd, haha) and then we Americans learned of a Mexican tradition where the bride and groom stand on two chairs and form a bridge with their hands. The guests line up in a big conga line and rush through the bride and groom….trying to knock them off. Eh? First all of the ladies and girls went and were more gentle and then I was personally responsible for saving Tracy’s life as the men went through the bridge like a high school football team. Yikes! Juan got the worst of it and although he was knocked down a few times, there were enough bodies to cushion the fall. I think I’ll be leaving this one in Mexico.
The kids attending the wedding were having just as much fun as the adults (probably more fun than the sullen line of relatives who didn’t move from their stations the whole evening). Two of the little girls discovered that there were a bunch of snails hanging out outside and proceeded to collect nearly thirty of them and build them a “play ground”. She was pretty grossed out when I told her that the French eat snails and decided that she was not hungry for snails. Oh well.
The days preceding and following the wedding, I was able to hang out with Tracy’s friends from in town and the new family. The night before the wedding we went back to Xochimilco to have a big boat party. Originally the plan was to return to the same boat guy that we rode with the week before. Somehow plans changed, both the time and the location, while I was en route. It took longer than expected to get there and I was worried that the boat would leave without me and when I got to our designated spot, out of breath, there wasn’t anyone there. Damn! Ever “helpful” are the people trying to sell you rides or sell you anything, there was a guy on a bicycle ready to help this damsel in distress. (The first time we went to Xochimilco the bikers kept appearing out of nowhere to lead us to a certain boat…pretty funny: oh hello again! It’s you again! You are sooo helpful…again!) I called an American friend who had a Mexican phone but it was turned off and also called a Mexican friend and couldn’t really figure out what had happened or where everyone was. My helpful biker wasn’t keen on me using his phone to call Tracy’s American phone and three stores were out of phone cards. Double damn! Eventually, I was sitting on the side of the road feeling and apparently looking pitiful when Tracy shows up in a mini van to rescue me. The brother asked if I was as sad as I looked, and I said yes, I thought I was lost forever. Tracy and her brother had driven all over from the new location trying to find me at the old location and along the way picked up an actual helpful Mexican man who knew the way but couldn’t explain. What a miracle.
The boat party itself was super fun…what started as eighteen or so folks involved in either couch surfing or the wedding grew to twenty-five or twenty-six. We had music, we had beer and tequila and we were ready to party. I don’t know how it worked, but along the way other couch surfers found our boat and jumped on. Another miracle, I think. We passed the island of creepy dolls (has anyone heard of this? It is an island that is covered in baby dolls that are in various states of decay), passed other party boats and even had some fireworks.
After the boat party, we were in search of food and found a place making “tortas”, Mexico’s HUGE hot sandwiches. For $1.80 I got an enormous sandwich with eggs, cheese, some veggies and refried beans. And I ate every bite. Yum.
After the wedding two car loads of folks went two hours outside of the city to the teensy town where some of the relatives live. We drove through the beautiful mountains and enjoyed lovely views while telling the driver to keep his eyes on the road! We walked around a bit when we got there, but it was getting dark so the tour didn’t last long. We ate some left over wedding food that we’d brought with us and spent a while chit chatting in English, Spanish and interesting spanglish.
Mexicans tend to stay rooted in one house for much longer than we nomadic Americans. They just add on or build up as the budget allows to meet the needs of their expanding family. It was kind of easy to tell how the original house had been just two small rooms and then the kitchen was later expanded and the second bedroom was plopped on the roof. Six of us crashed in the upstairs bedroom that you walk up a winding staircase outside to get to. I love it how much the buildings here let in the outdoors. In American buildings, you are either inside or outside, period. Here, you walk outside of the kitchen across the patio to the bathroom, or across the patio in the other direction to head to our bedroom.
The next morning, we were greeted by the sight of a lizard climbing around on the lace curtain and called in the groom’s brother for backup. We also found three HUGE spiders hanging out in the hand towel. Apparently the upstairs bedroom isn’t used all that often. We ate some breakfast and walked into town. We were passed by several guys on horseback and one guy with a pair of mules with a bunch of grass strapped to their back. The tour of the tiny town took all of 3 seconds and we kept walking up a mountain (hill?) to see a beautiful vista of the town and the surrounding areas. A very different view of mexico from the Mexico city that I’ve been used to. Very tranquil and lovely.
For lunch most of us pitched in to make sopas, a lovely dish that involved homemade tortillas (I helped!) that were cooked in an outdoor “kitchen” of sorts over an open fire. My teacher, someone’s grandmother, had obviously made about a bazillion tortillas in her life and I was glad my lessons were coming from a professional. She had bought a big chunk dough from somewhere and it was wrapped in purple paper. This tiny little lady easily grabbed a hunk of the heavy dough and began to kneed in water to make the dry dough smooth and pliable. She rolled a bunch of balls and brought in the heavy artillery; the hand press. Enter the gringa. You wouldn’t think that there would be that much skill in pressing a ball of dough, but you’d be wrong. My first several were too thin (I am so strong) and then the problems continued with my incorrect removal from the press and my incorrect placement on the grill. Eventually I got it right and everyone was happy. I will be happy to share my budding skills with any interested party.
The scalding hot tortillas are removed from the fire and are pinched around the edges to make a kind of crust like on a pizza. My fingers were too tender for this work. These tortilla shells are then brought to the indoor kitchen and placed on another pan and topped with oil (we would hate to do anything low fat people), thin refried beans, a red salsa and cheese and heated until crispy. Meat eaters topped theirs with pulled chicken, I stuck with the heavenly guacamole and cream. Did I mention that the avocados came from trees in their yard? Yum!
I spent the first half of the drive back to the city trying not to throw up as the driver rode the brakes around curves and up and down hills. We stopped at a market trying to find corn on the cob and were immediately trapped as a huge storm dropped about six inches of water in the span of twenty minutes. There wasn’t corn, but I busied myself checking out the various stalls, looking at the tortilla makers because now I am a pro and buying candy and pirated DVD (3 DVDs for five dollars). We stopped again when we saw a corn stand and indulged in this yummy treat. Mexican corn on the cob is skewered on a wooden dowel, spread with mayo, rolled in a shredded cheese and sprinkled with chili powder. About a zillion grams of fat, but super delicious. The healthier option that I vetoed is corn with lime, chili and salt. Bring on the fat.
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