That’s Why I Was Freezing Last Night

I woke up at one point last night, thinking “hmm, it’s a bit chilly, even though I’m under the covers.”

I should have known someone had stolen the top blanket.

Comfy, Charlie?

When I asked him about this act of theft, this was his only reply.

Dream Fulfilled: Swimming with Whale Sharks

A whale shark fishing for plankton, near the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico.

You know how some kids plaster their bedroom walls with images of dinosaurs? Or cartoon characters? Or boy bands?

Me, it was whale and shark posters — I even owned a bumper sticker that said “I Love Whales” long before I could drive. I devoured every issue of Ranger Rick from front to back. I knew who Eugenie Clark was. I spent 5 years volunteering for the Texas Marine Mammal Stranding Network.

But as I got older, I got a little lost on my life path and switched college degrees from marine biology to nursing to journalism. Part of my problem was math — I made a D in pre-calculus my freshman year and couldn’t imagine sweating through calculus class (a requirement for biology majors, something I think is atrocious and really unnecessary) nor some of the more advanced chemistry classes. So I let myself be persuaded by comments I’d get on essay papers, such as “A+, please consider joining student publications.”

All told, I’ve so far had a great career, first as a journalist, now as an online editor and consultant. And while my career is not always so thrilling (countless hours in front of a computer is not as adrenaline inducing as scouting the Pacific Northwest for pods of killer whales) it does pay the bills pretty nicely (probably a lot better than a marine biology degree would have) and so, in some ways, it’s letting me fulfill those dreams I had as a kid.

Case in point: This weekend, when I swam with a whale shark in the Caribbean Sea, north of the Yucatan Peninsula.

The whale shark species is at least 60 million years old, and the world’s largest fish (and of course, the world’s largest shark). It grows as long as a school bus. It’s endangered, as many sharks increasingly are because of the ridiculous demand for shark fin soup. Unlike most of its brethren, the whale shark is docile and harmless to humans. It’s got a big, gaping mouth that it uses to suck in plankton, and it moves slowly and gracefully, unconcerned with everything around it, a luxury for most animals, but not the whale shark. Beyond that, not much is known, because no one started researching the whale shark intensely until the 1990s.

As with any blow-your-mind experience, it’s hard to describe what Saturday was like. First we went out in a group of boats with certified whale shark guides, rounding up and over the Yucatan Peninsula’s eastern corner, to a wide shallow area where whale sharks congregate each summer.

The guide then stands on the top of the boat, searching for the tell-tale brown shadow and scurry of smaller fish who hitch rides around the shark (their momentum could power a wind farm…). As the plankton rises to the surface around mid-day, so do the whale sharks…..you can spot them from the surface, their 6-foot-wide mouths gaping open:

How they look from the surface when they are eating. A snorkeler is on its right side.

Sue and I gearing up to “dive in.”

It all happens very fast. It’s suddenly your turn to go, and boom, you slide into the water, and start paddling hard.  Once you reach the shark, you’re captivated, if not hypnotized. Time stops, sounds go away, and there you are, moving slowly with a whale shark (he does all the work, you just go along for the ride).

When you swim next to them (or often, above them, since they like to swim downward after eating), their big gills puff in and out.

My friend Sue-Lyn and I each got to swim three times.  I was lucky enough to be on the last team to go out, and because the other boats in the area had left, it was even more peaceful. The shark did a looooong swim in one single direction, and I was sucked into his vortex, swimming along his right side, until the guide grabbed my flipper, signaled it was time to go back to the boat, and forced me to end my incredibly awesome day. (But then we went snorkeling at a nearby reef, so the awesomeness soon started all over again…)

Mexico, as far as I could tell, does an excellent job strictly regulating the tours — rules were enforced, and the shark spent most of his time with us eating plankton (he seemed a little oblivious of us, really) something a stressed shark won’t bother with. Our shark was tagged #827 as part of the research program.

To see the full fabulous slideshow (including coral reef photos), see Swimming With Whale Sharks on flickr.

How to Help Mexico City’s Long-Suffering Street Dogs

Mexico, most of the time, is not a welcoming place for dogs. Strays roam the streets of every city, often looking quite miserable. How to reduce the stray population is a long-standing issue for Mexico, and not one with an easy answer, as much of the human population is also suffering from over-population (poor women with way too many kids). Meaning, taking proper care of nearby stray dogs is a very low priority when you can’t feed your children, either.

It is one of the things I like dislike most about Mexico, as I have always been someone who loves animals and feels like humans have a responsibility to treat all living creatures ethically. I grew up thinking we don’t do enough in the U.S., then I moved here and realize how bad it can truly be.

But, thankfully, there are some organizations fighting the good fight, and one in particular I feel quite confident in giving my money to: Adopta Un Amigo. (It’s a partially bilingual site, they also help cats, and great news: They accept PayPal donations.)

My friends Jonathan and Alejandra adopted their dog, Jelly, from Adopta Un Amigo. Jelly started her life on the street, but is now happy and healthy:

Can You Help Him Find Love?

Even with the maldito typo, this one stopped me in my tracks. “Omg so cute,” I said out loud while walking my even cuter version.

“I’m looking for a girlfriend.”

Spotted today in Parque Mexico, a park known for its purebred dog populations, including Shih-Tzus. I haven’t yet met a shit-zu.

Iguanas Everywhere, Just the Way I Like It

In spite of the presence of billions of Canadian tourists, the Yucatan Peninsula of Mexico still has lots of live lizards. (Let’s not mention the iguana roadkill I kept spotting last week, nor the several times we had to stop in the middle of the road to let an iguana pass, much to the annoyance of other drivers…)

"Does my butt look big?" This iguana was crawling over the Mayan ruins in Tulum. He could easily eat my dog as an appetizer.

This one has obviously been to Handsome Iguana Modeling School.

This spry little one spent a lot of time trying to scare my sister-in-law. He frequently appeared out of nowhere, claws at the ready.

Another lizard species we spotted often was the gecko. This 6-incher hung around while we drank beers on the patio. Brendan still likes to tell the story of when he first moved to Corpus Christi, Texas. Being a native Minnesotan, he didn't know what these creatures were, and when spotting one in his apartment, smashed it to bits. Since geckos eat mosquites and are otherwise harmless, we South Texans revere our geckos. Although he now admits they are "benevolent creatures," his story is still horrifying.

Fat butt iguana and gecko photos courtesy of Suz Walsh.

A First for Me: Going to the (Mexican) Circus

One of the cool things about having (and somehow keeping) friends in Mexico City is you get invited to do things you’d ordinarily never do as a tourist or alienated ex-pat. Case in point: Attend Circo Atayde Hermanos, a 120-year old circus in Mexico, with friend Richard, whose family owns the circus.

I suppose this is what an earthquake feels like?

Along with the usual circus acts (animals, namely: elephants, horses, camels and llamas) and trapeze artists/magicians/clowns, Circo Atayde had a nice Latino flair to it, like a guy on stilts dressed in drag as Carmen Miranda, and a slew of macho-yet-hairless Argentinian gaucho performers. A clown also did a dead-on impression of easy-to-mock but utterly fabulous Vicente Fernandez.

This gaucho looked like Star Trek's Captain Picard, and could lasso away a cigarette, meaning, yes: he was my favorite act of the night.

Richard asked us: So when was the last time you went to the circus? For him, it was literally last week — he goes all the time, since he has “circus privileges.” For me, though, I couldn’t recall. Besides daily life in Mexico, the most circus-like event I attended as an adult was probably the Moscow Cats Theater, where yes, cats perform, on stage. (As has been said by others before me: It was “30 minutes of tricks packed into 90 minutes.”)

The circus in Mexico, however, is quite the opposite — blink and you’ll miss something fun.

6 Reasons to House-Sit Nancy and Jeremy’s House

1. The view from the lounge chair

2. The vitamin D (obtained while in the lounge chair)

3. Dog can vacation with you (while you’re in lounge chair)

4. The jacaranda trees

5. The grill

6. And last but not least. The butterflies:

New Insect Found Living on Fridge

…of the chapulin variety. He’s from Oaxaca and I’ve named him Chappy…Chappy the Chapulin. I’m hoping he’ll scare off all the other bugs (somehow we have none, even though we live in the heart of the world’s second-largest city. Go figure. NYC was full of roaches. Mexico City? Clean as a whistle.)

Chappy is an alebrije. I wanted to buy many more alebrijes while we were in Oaxaca, but the no-good rule known as “luggage restrictions” kept me from indulging in my intense need to collect oodles of Oaxacan folk art (much to Brendan’s pleasure, I’m sure).

Here is where Chappy originated:

This roadside stand of alebrijes is located way up in the mountains of Oaxaca.

Like all alebrijes, Chappy is carved from wood and hand-painted.

Ahh…..Our Oaxacan Paradise Eco-Vacation

The first-half of our trip last week in Oaxaca was spent at the eco-resort Bahia de la Luna on Playa La Boquilla, near Puerto Angel, Mexico.

Again, because we like to do it our way, we purposely picked Bahia because of its remoteness and its individual cabana setting. I dislike large hotels, especially many of ‘em all lined up in a row on an otherwise lovely beach. They tend to destroy the ecosystem in many ways (beach erosion, broken reefs from too many people dumbly kicking them, sewage) and plus I am just not a giant people-lover, particularly if I’m trying to relax.

However, remote equals challenging to get to. The last three miles of the drive to Bahia are on a steep, rutted, sandy road. It made the previous stomach-churning 6 hours seem like fluffy cupcakes by comparison. Twice we got stuck in the sand, and Brendan had to perform 4×4 style driving in our compact rental car. Not fun. (Actually, he had a big grin, and I had my hand over my heart and my eyes closed.)

Once we arrived, it was all waves gently crashing, palm trees swaying and geckos squeaking. Yes! We were far from civilization (or, far enough). First day, after the long drive, in spite of the beauty around me, I kept wondering when I would shake off the accumulated stress from the past day and many months (it’s been a long time since we had a long vacation). Second day I could feel it slowly melting away, especially after I put on my snorkel and mask and discovered the beach was utterly spectacular for snorkeling (Puffer fish! Blennies!  And this was the first time in my snorkeling adventures that I was surrounded by schools of fish. Large schools — we’re talking hundreds of plate-sized yellow-and-black angelfish who didn’t care about me and just swam all around me, slowly. I spent a fun-but-futile 15 minutes diving down to point out a zebra eel to Brendan, who still maintains he never saw it in its lair.)

By the third day, I had no stress, except for all the de-tangling required after I went snorkeling and had to pull my long hair out of the mask’s plastic straps. Ouch. While not swimming or kayaking, we read under a little palm palapa, shaded from the sun, never too hot or too cold. (Sometimes my life feels like an eternal search for temperature happiness).

This was all aided by amazing food. Breakfast and lunch were pretty typical, but dinner was as healthy and tasty as healthy and tasty can be. They serve the catch of the day, freshly prepared, and so we ate octopus, red snapper, shark, and mahi-mahi. With salads like “strawberry and cucumber” or “spinach and orange slices.”

Fourth day? I didn’t expect this, but I was too relaxed?! I found myself doing something highly unusual: Pining for TV. Please, let me explain before you stop being my friend: Our cabana had two beds with mosquito netting, two lamps, a ceiling fan and a basic bathroom — no phone, no TV, no computer, no air conditioning, no cell phone service and no hot water. With no bar down at the beach (there’s alcoholic beverages for sale, but no people to sell them to you after a certain hour) and total darkness by 7 p.m, we spent enormous amounts of time reading under our insect-proof nets.

Even I, avid reader, needed something else to do after ingesting The Poisonwood Bible, People and US Weekly (last two are required beach reading, didn’t you know?)

In spite of my random attack of boredom, we do plan to go back, of course (even beach-hater Brendan had to admit “that was a fun beach vacation!”)

So, paradise: I’ll be back one day, hopefully soon, maybe with friends or relatives (Suzanne? Dana? Dora? Adam? Connie? Victory clan? Near-Frozen Minnesotans? Facebook friends?) We can bring our dominoes set, a deck of cards, maybe even Pictionary, and everyone: Bring your laptop loaded with movies ready for watching, under the netting, in total solitude.

Companions to None: Film Explores Street Dogs in Mexico

Flickr Photo by Pedro Rueda

If there are two things I love, it’s film documentaries and dogs. But dog documentary Companions to None is one of those films I probably shouldn’t watch because I’ll just cry the entire time.

It’s about the overwhelming street dog population in Mexico (I highly recommend Amores Perros – or Love’s a Bitch in English, for a fictionalized-but-apt examination of Mexico’s bizarre relationship with dogs.)

My neighborhood, as I’ve explained before, is an odd microcosm of this societal ill. There’s people like me, walking our fancy, neutered, well-loved dogs in beautiful Parque Mexico. Never far away, though, are street dogs. Sad street dogs with open wounds, limps and desperately sweet souls. And because there is no consistent sterilization program for street dogs, these dogs keep reproducing, in the shadows, ignored by most. Thankfully, a few kind people in the neighborhood do try to take care of these dogs, such as putting out mats for them, feeding them, and taking them to the vet/groomer’s if they need help. More than once a street dog has followed me home, hoping for a hand-out. Of course I oblige when this happens.

Go to more rural parts of Mexico and profound poverty and cultural norms exacerbate the problem. People barely have enough money to feed themselves (and their large families — contraception for humans is not a wildly popular idea, either), so taking proper care of street dogs is low on the list of priorities.

Flickr Photo by patotenere

As well, a persistent belief that neutering male dogs will make them “gay” keeps sterilization programs from taking hold. One woman in the film trailer credits the Catholic Church with propagating this belief, and I’m not surprised. Homophobia knows no bounds, not even when it comes to pets.

As the LA Times explains, the film may not be widely seen. (I want to give a shout-out right now to the Times for having excellent coverage of Latin America at a time when most news divisions are cutting staff.)

“Problems securing a wide distribution for the film may obstruct the diffusion of what is an important message. Buchanan said American networks such as Animal Planet, Discovery and HBO passed on broadcasting the documentary and that a deal with TV Azteca –- one of Mexico’s two main commercial broadcasters –- fell through.”

I do hope the film gains momentum, or at least the important message it carries. Sterilizing dogs is far more humane than letting them over-populate, starve on the street, and create more starving puppies. And the more your sterilize, the smaller the problem gets with every passing generation.

Here’s the Winter Home of Millions of Butterflies

After a one-hour cab ride, a three-hour car ride, a one-hour horseback ride and a long steep walk down the side of a mountain, we finally convened yesterday with the Monarch butterflies, who fly by the bazillions every winter to a small patch of forest in the Mexican state of Michoacan. This is one of the world’s greatest (and most mysterious) migrations. And it’s only four hours from where I live.

Stunning. HOWEVER, this was probably the biggest photographic challenge I ever faced. There were butterflies everywhere, yet, they don’t really show up in the photos too well…

Those trees are literally dripping with large bunches of butterflies, who are crammed in all together. When the sun would come out, they’d fly out en masse. When a cloud appeared, back they’d go to the trees.

We were around 10,000 feet elevation. It was cold and windy, even when the sun would come out. This particular migration area is accessible only by horseback.

According to Monarch Watch, this is how it works:

“The sites the Monarchs use during the winter have particular characteristics that enable their survival. These characteristics are important because they provide the Monarch with the right overwintering conditions. Trees on which to cluster are one of the most important elements of the sites. The climate and the whole surrounding area are also important. Nearby trees, streams, underbrush, and fog or clouds all form an intricate natural ecosystem that is the monarchs’ winter habitat. These conditions are found in oyamel fir forests, which occur in a very small area of mountain tops in central Mexico. Overwintering sites are about 3000 meters (nearly 10,000 feet) above sea level, and are on steep, southwest-facing slopes.

In particular, the butterflies need a cool place. When they are cool, they don’t metabolize, or use up, their energy reserves as fast. They also need to be protected from snow and winds. The surrounding trees serve as a buffer to the winds and snow. Because they also need water for moisture, the fog and clouds in this mountainous region provide another important element for their survival.

The butterflies choose spots that are close to but not quite freezing. They cluster together, covering whole tree trunks and branches, and cling to fir and pine needles. The forest floor in the overwintering sites is covered with young trees, shrubs, lichens and moss. When Monarchs fall out of the trees and are too cold to fly back up, they can sometimes crawl to the lower bushes to avoid predators. The tall trees make a thick canopy over their heads. Protective trees and bushes soften the wind and shield the butterflies from the occasional snow, rain, or hail. Fog and clouds settle on the Monarch groves. On sunny days, they often warm up enough to fly to nearby water where they will drink. They must fly back to the roost before getting too cold, and one can sometimes see them take off in flight, heading back to the roosts as soon as a cloud passes over.

Each of the above elements is important to the butterflies, and makes up the Monarch habitat – trees in which to roost, other trees and shrubs to protect them, the cool air, and the presence of water.”

I Made My First Neighborhood Enemy

Yesterday morning I took Charlie out for a walk, per my usual routine first-thang en la manana. We were walking down Calle Amsterdam, a lovely leafy street with a special walking path just for pedestrians.

A woman approached, walking in my direction with a German Shepherd off its leash. Before I had much time to react, the dog lunged at Charlie and all I heard was vicious growling sounds. Charlie tried to run away, and I got tangled up in the middle of the leash. I was scared, and screamed “Jesus Christ!”

The woman — instead of instantly grabbing her dog’s collar and pulling him off of Charlie — responded, ever-so-flippantly with “Oh, he’s just playing” in English. By this time I had gotten Charlie a few feet away from the dog. But since the woman hadn’t bothered to leash her dog, he lunged again at Charlie. Again I was standing in a tornado of angry teeth and fur. I lost it.

“Can’t you use a leash?” I shouted as loudly as I could. Then, not sure if she understood, I said “LADY: Use a leash. Por favor, use un CORREO!“

“My dog is not aggressive,” she told me in English.

I was shocked — what?? are you kidding me?? — but instead of asking how the attacking was “not aggressive,” I said back to her “well, mine IS which is why he’s on a leash, to protect us.” (This is true.)

Her response?

“No, no no. Dogs are meant to be free!” She shouted it as if high on the dander of her damn dog. “FREE!!” She lifted her hands to the sky, perhaps to puppy heaven, where leashes don’t exist. “FREE” she repeated a third time, walking away with her unleashed dog, as I tried to get a word in.

The best I could up with to battle her mantra? (I am miserable at coming up with powerful-and-irrefutable statements in the middle of a stressful situation.)

“Then why do leashes exist???”

Suffice it to say, after the altercation ended, my heart was racing, I was sweating, and I seriously was harboring violent thoughts to strangle her by her sweatshirt cords. Per my usual reaction during a confrontation, I started crying before I even made it home. Then I brooded for hours. And now I’m writing this post for catharsis.

Sadly, because she owns a dog and lives near me, the chances I will see her again are about 99%, meaning I have my first neighborhood enemy, and Charlie has his. (Who the rest of the day almost seemed to feel bad about what happened — he sat curled up next to me all day.)

She is just one of many people in this neighborhood who refuse to leash their dogs, but she’s the first one to be an unapologetic (perhaps delusional) jerk about it.

(And for all of you out there walking your dog in Condesa, watch out for a short, thin woman with dark hair walking a German Shepherd that’s about 8 months old. She and her dog are totally loca.)

It’s So True: Sin Agua, No Hay Vida

Last night we finally got around to watching the first two episodes of Planet Earth, the mind-blowingly well-done series of nature films by the BBC, all filmed in high definition and with the most incredibly complex camerawork I have ever seen. (The snow leopard scenes brought tears to my eyes, and once it started snowing, I was a mess.)

We watched it en espanol, which turned out to be a great idea: It has slow, simple narration in verb tenses we know pretty well (present and simple past), so we never felt miserably lost as we do when we watch most TV in Spanish. And many animals have very similar names in both idiomas: caribou, impala, leopardo,…

A few key vocabulary words that I really enjoyed learning (or re-remembering, as is so often the case for me) while watching La Planeta Tierra:

Arctic stuff:
las focas — seals
los polos — the poles (as in north pole and south pole)
las hojas — leaves
baja tierra — underground
cachorros — pups, for many species
reservas de grasa — fat reserves

Forest stuff:
las girasoles – daisies
las ardillas — squirrels
rayos del sol — sunlight, rays of sunshine
la energia del sol — sun’s energy
los monos — monkeys
los insectos — insects

Watery stuff:
los tiburones — sharks
grande blanco tiburones — great white sharks
las nubladas — clouds

Desert stuff:
huracanes de harina — dust storm (harina is more like flour, but you get the idea)
peligrosos tormentos de polvo — dust storm (polvo is dust and any fine substance)

Stuff that struck me as funny:
unico huevo – one unique egg, as in the penguin’s single egg each year
un banquete por todos los animales – a banquet for all the animals
un epoca de abundancia – an era of adundance
padres dedicados – dedicated dads (about a type of fish)
los monos no le gustan el agua — the monkey’s don’t like the water, said as a group of monkeys hesitantly, if not prissily, waded through water
empieza el ataque — the attack begins, said each time a predator pounced on some prey

Not so funny:
no dura mucho — won’t last long, in reference to ever-shrinking ice caps
el futuro de la especie -- future of the species. In many cases, bleak.

Oh, I Love Shopping in Mexico: Recent Bargain Aquisitions

It’s been awhile since I posted the cool stuff I buy in Mexico. Here ya go, with a noticeable “Dia de los Muertos” theme to it…

This is a reproduction of a Mexican Colima dog. The real ones are housed only in museums and by savvy collectors. I found this guy in Queretaro, Mexico. He cost around $7 bucks, I think. He’s holding an ear of corn in his mouth – ’cause they like their corn down here, you know?

This is a hand-blown glass heart. I bought it in Tlaxcala, Mexico. It’s from the state of Jalisco. It cost $120 pesos, or about $10.50 in U.S. dollars. I still haven’t figured out where (or how) to hang it, but I know I want the light to hit it — it really sparkles beautifully. In Tlaxcala, the store that sells these created an entire tree out of these, which I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

This is a skeleton driving a donkey cart that’s carrying a coffin. It cost about a dollar. From Toluca.

The Virgin de Guadalupe with tons of glitter surrounding her. Also about a dollar and from Toluca.

I keep this little lady under my computer monitor to remind myself to not spend too much time at the computer. To see a squirrel/veterinarian version of this, go here. She was cheap ($1.50) and from Toluca.

I found this glass candle votive at a little flea sale at the beauty salon right by my apartment. I now own about 5 pieces of blue glass, and I plan to keep collecting more. This cost $1 as well.

The Dog Treat that Must Be Endlessly Coveted

Like most dogs, Charlie likes treats. I try to keep a steady supply on hand, and I give him one when I’m feeling guilty for not giving him much attention, or if I’m leaving the house, so he associates “Joy gone” with “good treat.”

A few days ago, I bought a new brand. Each treat looks like a fake sliced bone, with red “marrow” in it. They’re pretty big for a Charlie-sized dog. (Off topic, but: Isn’t it silly how dog treats are designed with humans in mind? Who cares if they’re shaped like a fake bone? Not Charlie, that’s for sure. As long as it tastes good and smells better.)

Anyhoodles, Charlie has responded in a characteristically quirky way to this treat — I’m not sure what’s going on in his little dog brain (Brendan would say: not much). What happened this morning is the typical behavior he displays when given one of these new treats:

I took him for a walk this morning around 8 a.m. About an hour later, needing to buckle down and do some serious editing, I went into the kitchen and handed him a treat. Then around 2:30 in the afternoon, in time for his normal afternoon walk, I called “Charlie….go outside?” He didn’t come running like normal, when he’s usually desperate to go outside.

I kept calling his name, eventually heading back to our bedroom where his dog bed is. There he was, hovering, closely guarding something. I picked up his dog bed blanket, and yep, the treat rolled out.

He didn’t give me a second to contemplate things — he grabbed it (with his mouth) and ran out of the room. I followed him, and kept asking “go outside?” After all, I was holding his leash and the house keys and was damn-well ready to go outside myself, too.

He’d walk into one room, then another, making pained grunting noises the entire time, treat in mouth. Finally he went back to his dog bed, crawled in it, and apparently decided that, after 6 hours of coveting the treat, he’d better eat it. So he ate it.

Dog-people: Any idea what this is about? Is this like when a dog buries a bone? Do they guard it constantly after that? Even sacrificing trips outside? Is this something single dogs do since they don’t have to worry about another dog stealing it?

(He’s also been dreaming very vividly lately — is anything funnier than a Shih Tzu barking in his sleep?)