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December 27, 2008 at 19:21:16
Promoted to Headline (H3) on 12/27/08: by Jan Baumgartner Page 1 of 2 page(s) |
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~ A Barking Man, a Parrot who thinks it’s a Rooster, Drama Cat, Origins of Laughter, Beginnings and Endings, Marking Time by Church Bells A Barking Man and a Parrot who thinks it’s a Rooster Dog barking in San Miguel de Allende is as incessant as the church bells. The town is known for its abundance of perros, both rib-bare street waifs and those lovingly pampered and dressed in the latest fashions. It is a barking free-for-all most hours of the day and night. So I was surprised when I saw a man walking up my street barking. He only barked twice. Did he think the day had scored low on number of barks? Or was it the tequila barking? He was good. If I hadn’t seen him I would have believed he was a dog. On the opposite side of the street, tucked two buildings in from a bright lemon yellow casa and a sunset coral casa, is a large pomegranate-colored casa. Actually, it looks more like a big bowl of salsa. Its grand arched terrace faces my diminutive bird’s nest. The terrace is always in the shadows. I hear things from those shadows. A friend told me that the elderly woman “keeps” animals, exotic birds, parrots, macaws, even monkeys. I think I hear the parrot. 
In the distance near San Juan de Dios church, a rooster caws each morning and early evening. It is a soft, non-abrasive cawing that lilts on the shifting breeze and mixes with cooking smells and flowers. The parrot mimics the rooster. He, like the barking man, is very convincing. The parrot sounds more like a rooster than the rooster. The Barking Man and the Rooster Parrot could have a show in the jardin. But the real star would be….
Drama Cat
I heard her first. I say “her” because no male cat could swing such a drama queen performance and get away with it. And she’s Siamese. Female Siamese are known for their over the top performances and piss poor attitudes. I’ve known a few.
Her guttural howling went from sheer annoyance at the imperfection and mediocrity of the world below, to the pleading, gasping rants and moans of a cat ready to jump. It startled me. She seemed to be bemoaning, “donde esta de agua! mi leche! mi pollo! mi pastel de chocolate!”
The white and shadow-tinged minx paced back and forth on the narrow ledge of the casa across the street, at times, placing her tiny, fragile, razor-sharp claws so close to edge I wanted to yell, “Stop! Don’t jump!” but in her disdain and contempt, she’d move back an inch, tease then howl, teeter at the brink again, only to retreat, swinging her bony bottom back into the cover of potted plants where she was probably drooling on a rubber toy or swatting at ants. Did I really think that a cat jumping from the lip of a roof terrace and some ten feet below would be catastrophic? Or was her performance just that convincing? She shall now be referred to as Meryl. Or Merylita.
A few days into her theatrics I caught her napping. One late afternoon from my sun drenched terrace I caught her in full repose, and for what and who she really is. Her terrace (I say hers because I’m pretty sure she owns the place and rents out rooms) was thick with drying clothes, a white load, socks, panties, and t-shirts all dangling in the breeze like miniature underwear piñatas. On the terrace table was a large Coca Cola crate on wheels. It was upside down. She was splayed, unaware, on top of the crate ~ day dreaming, maybe flat out snoring. To her right were two empty soda bottles. They looked like Fanta. I’m not suggesting she had drunk the sodas, she is more a tequila cat, only that they added to her stripped down Academy Award performance. She was sleeping, fat and happy. This was as close to a nude scene as she was going to get.
Next time I see her teetering on the edge, howling and threatening to jump, demanding chicken and chocolate cake, I will look her squarely in the eyes and say, “Merylita, I saw you on your back, spread-eagled and snoring. Honey, gig’s up. I know you’re not jumpin’ but I won’t tell.” It’s good to have friends in the neighborhood.
Speaking of Laundry
I’ve always been amazed if not perplexed by the separation of whites and darks when washing. I don’t believe in laundry segregation. People get scared. “You can’t throw the whites in with the coloreds! What if something happens? What if something gets hurt, something bleeds!” I’ve always mixed the two, thrown everything of every color in together ~ one big happy load. They’ve never fought. Nothing has ever bled. Somehow, they’ve all just gotten along.
Origins of Laughter
Mexicans and Gringos laugh differently. If I’m writing from the terrace and hear laughter echoing on the cobbled street below, I can see the color of the laughter. Gringos sound lighter. Their color of laughter is of a higher pitch ~ it flies ~ it has wings: It is borne of the sky. It is Crimson Yellow. It sounds more carefree. It has the sound and innocence of a child. It is the sound and color of a goldfinch.
Mexicans laugh with a deeper resonance. It is hearty and real and closer to the bone, of the soil. It is richer and feels as if it is harvested from the earth, has roots. I hear it reverberating from the land, deep and earthy and from the heart. It sounds heavier and seems to carry with it history, an ancient wisdom. To me, Mexican laughter sounds like a spirit bird ~ a raven or crow. It is the color of coffee.
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Juicy!
...like mango juice dripping down my chin! Luscious, fragrant, a feast for the senses … wow, your writing makes me want to get on a plane for your magic world! However, I am not so sure I like sharing my name with a high drama cat! ---- But I suppose if Meryl Streep can do it, then so can I, LOL! I, too, love not having a clock – the workmen blew a fuse here a couple of weeks ago, and the digital clock in my bedroom is still flashing “12:00” … I wondered why I didn’t change it - it’s not just being lazy, its more about wanting to tell the time by looking out the window, I love that! by Meryl Ann Butler (70 articles, 82 quicklinks, 5 diaries, 721 comments [29 recommended, 0 rejected]) on Saturday, Dec 27, 2008 at 8:11:14 PM  (0+)
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The wrath of cat,
not Khan. No sooner had I posted this than "she" began to howl. From the rooftop ledge, in the dark of night, a single street lantern spotlighting El Gato Meryl. It is as if she knows she was outed, or "published." In any case, she's howlin' up a storm ~ a virutal one cat show. Soon, the Parrot Rooster will howl like Meryl the Cat. by Jan Baumgartner (60 articles, 148 quicklinks, 12 diaries, 311 comments [12 recommended, 0 rejected]) on Saturday, Dec 27, 2008 at 8:36:00 PM (0+)
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what prose
Excellent piece, Jan. My mother lives in Mexico ~ I'm gonna send her your article to be sure (even tho she gets the OEN Newsletter). She's in an expat community in Baja - which is a different world than the mainland. I love her house... even tho they had to deal with wildfires last year. Good luck on your new digs... and new life. Avoid the narcowars (my mom just sent me this: http://www.truthout.org/122608C) by Rady Ananda (182 articles, 374 quicklinks, 49 diaries, 1718 comments [201 recommended, 2 rejected]) on Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 at 12:16:16 AM (0+)
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Reply: Thank you, Rady
Yes, the drug problem throughout Mexico is a major concern. There was a little "drama" here earlier this year which ended peacefully but could just have easily gone the other way. The Mexicans are hurting, those losing their jobs in the U.S., and those struggling here with the weak peso against the U.S. dollar. Even the very basics/food are getting too expensive for the majority of Mexicans. Altering my life, and now spending half the year in Mexico, I realize that this is not simply a vacation wonderland, an escape, nor is any place immune from violence, suffering and want. We're all in this together. by Jan Baumgartner (60 articles, 148 quicklinks, 12 diaries, 311 comments [12 recommended, 0 rejected]) on Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 at 1:05:32 PM (0+)
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Lucky
you are lucky with your laundry, Jan. When I put reds and whites together, I usually get pink something or other. by Mac McKinney (53 articles, 113 quicklinks, 240 diaries, 1413 comments [31 recommended, 0 rejected]) on Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 at 12:22:38 AM (0+)
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Roosters, parrots and cats oh, my!
That was such a splendid piece Jan, and so vibrant! It sounds as though you're in good company and really enjoying your stay in Mexico? A real "cat's meow." Probably much warmer there than in Maine. Not quite hot enough though to melt the chocolate? Between that and Meryl Ann and her mango juice, my mouth is watering. A good holiday is one spent among people whose notions of time are vaguer than yours. ~John B. Priestly by Munich (1 articles, 86 quicklinks, 14 diaries, 1125 comments [86 recommended, 1 rejected]) on Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 at 1:25:55 AM (0+)
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Reply: Maine?
Where's that?! by Jan Baumgartner (60 articles, 148 quicklinks, 12 diaries, 311 comments [12 recommended, 0 rejected]) on Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 at 2:54:20 PM (0+)
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Reply: vague notions of time
that, to me, is real freedom by Rady Ananda (182 articles, 374 quicklinks, 49 diaries, 1718 comments [201 recommended, 2 rejected]) on Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 at 3:18:47 PM (0+)
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Re: Maine?
by Munich (1 articles, 86 quicklinks, 14 diaries, 1125 comments [86 recommended, 1 rejected]) on Sunday, Dec 28, 2008 at 5:19:58 PM (0+)
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Color of laughter
Beautiful Jan. I love your description of the colors of laughter. It's such vital part of our lives and I never really knew how to describe laughter until now. Colors! Perfect. Also, I don't believe in separating laundry either. Wonder what advertising company came up with that one? by James Callner (4 articles, 0 quicklinks, 1 diaries, 10 comments) on Wednesday, Dec 31, 2008 at 4:06:33 AM (0+)
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