Tours of Tours and a WHAT?!?

 

As we close in on the end of our time in Mexico, I want to share some of the incredible experiences we've had along the way. At the beginning of our trip, we spent two weeks in Oaxaca City. Two of the staple things to learn about in that area are their tradition of Alebrije carvings and Mezcal. You also need to learn about Mole, obviously, which we did by eating our weight in the rich sauces, the other two mysteries required a tour. 

Alebrijes are figurines of real or fantastical beasts that are carved by hand from a single piece of wood and painted intricately. My sister-in-law, being from Mexico herself, alerted us to the allure of the tradition and gratefully we fell down the rabbit hole of these, often tiny, magical delights. The markets as well as the high end galleries are filled with them, crowding tables and shelves, flooding the eyes with bright colors and dizzying arrays of dots creating patterns that swirl and weave a creature to life. How do you pick one from the millions before you is the clear question, and the answer is... complicated. The obvious idea, you'd think, would be to simply pick the one that is the prettiest or will go with your home decor, and you would quickly learn that that is completely overwhelming. Clearly we needed to learn more. We took a short excursion to spend the afternoon at one of the most famous Alebrije "factories", Jacabo & Maria Angeles, which is also a famous art school attracting artists from all over the world to master their craft. There, at the workshop, artists check into work and check out paintbrushes, brushes made in Japan and worth more than most Oaxacans make in a month. The pieces of wood are selected and that determines the animal that will emerge, this one bends to form a monkey, that one arches to form a jaguar, and that one twists from a frog to an eagle to a coyote all in one! OK wait, back-up, you say, yes that last one doesn't make any sense and without seeing it, it is difficult to imagine, but the gentle slope of the frogs back managed to sweep elegantly up into eagle wings and the feet that you expect to be webbed anchored the form with  coyote paws and a joyful tail. We learned how the tree they use, the copal, is either male or female and that the male wood is permeable and natural pigments are made to stain the creature into color, the female wood is painted with acrylic paint, both take a steady hand and great skill, but the stains are a truly magnificent artistic gift. Those magnificent gifts are also magnificently priced so those did not find a home with us. The most common way to select an Alebrije is based on your birth date. You are aligned with a protector animal and a spiritual animal and these have meanings that reflect your personality. I found out that my spiritual animal is a snake, I am horrifically terrified of snakes and do not find the irony of this humorous, however my daughter found it hilarious. Since a snake was also not finding a home with us, we opted for yet another way to select your beast and that was to have it choose you. I know, this is a little too woowoo for us to, but it oddly makes sense when faced with so many fantastic works of art. Turns out Jesse and I NEEDED a large, ornate octopus... because traveling for 3 months with an incredibly delicate, expensive piece of art definitely makes sense. It's like that game from when we were growing up where you had to take care of an egg, like it was a baby, for a week. For some reason that was a task from a class in school, but I can't remember why. Needless to say, the private tour was informative, fascinating and really wonderful, and we will now have strange figurines all over the house.

Next up was a Mezcal tour that walked us through various agave plants, the process of cooking the hearts, then distilling and of course the best part, the tasting. We learned how the same plant grown in different places has a significantly different flavor, something you can imagine wine geeks would flip over. I don't think the kid giving the tour had ever had people so into the details of 'how, when, where, why' and his eyes started to widen as the questions daunted him. If you are also fans of our show "A Fern Between Us: Emotional Sanitizer Wine Show" then you saw one of our episodes was dedicated to Mezcal... and you saw the look I make when I taste it. This drink is not for the faint of heart, it is smokey, rough with flavor and reminds me of gasoline. It has also taken me some time to acclimate to the idea that some are distilled with meat. I know, super gross. But as it turns out, the meat adds a texture to the finished product that actually softens the harsh flavors and is now one of my favorite. We also had the luck of becoming friends with some boutique Mezcal producers during our stay at the beach who joined us for a socially distanced tasting and taught us a wealth of information about the art behind the booze. It is absolutely nothing like the shots of the weird stuff with the worm you've had at the bar, in fact that is a specific style of Mezcal that uses the worm to give a unique (and not great) flavor, true aficionados are not fans. I learned a lot including how serving it cold actually makes it more harsh (we'd thought it should be served like vodka) and to smell with your mouth open to get the complex aromas not just the pungent hit of alcohol. I also learned how to not make a face when I drink it, maybe.

Our time in Puerto Escandido included a crap "tour" of the bioluminescence that I already wrote a full post about, and our tour of the ruins at Palenque was unremarkable, well that isn't totally true. The day was hot and humid and the incredible ruins were stunning, I mentioned our experience in my post about our time in the jungle, but what I didn't share was what has stuck with us over the rest of the trip, the tour guide's repeated reference to incest. The depictions of the various people that had lived there occasionally had 6 fingers on each hand or 6 toes on each foot or a predominantly shorter leg to which the guide would draw our attention and say "incest!". It seemed to be an subject of great delight for the man focusing much of the tour on this element, an element that became the theme as we stood sweating, panting in our masks, squinting up at a stone, him counting aloud the number of fingers and then pointing to us to say in chorus "incest". We exchanged bewildered glances at first, but by the end we were openly laughing with the guide. Now lets clarify that we do not find incest funny, nor do we think laughing at ancient cultures or archaeological sites is in any way OK, what was funny was to pay a man $100 to sweat profusely and only learn that there was a great deal of incest happening at this site. 

Moving on, we returned to San Cristobal de Las Casas knowing we wanted activities. Generally I would not put a cooking class in the "tour" category, but in this case I'm gonna. Our private classes started with a tour of the local market where we learned why you would use each of the 5 different bananas at one stand in different dishes, learned the names of dozens of chiles that filled bin after bin after bin and discovered strange new fruits. Actually I take that back, I did not learn the names of the chiles and don't want to be quizzed on them, I was daunted by the colors, sounds and smells of the market and couldn't take it all in. My daughter seemed to be dizzy with the chaos of it all as well and she became my focus while Jesse and I guided her through the maze and shielded her from the attention of a man walking around with his finger up the butt of a stuffed squirrel. I kid you not, a man with his FINGER UP THE BUTT of a stuffed squirrel. After that we returned to the tranquil gardens and spacious kitchen of our chef teacher. Ingredients were laid out beautifully and she described steps in each process as Jesse chopped, diced, stirred and assisted, even my daughter got in on the action, but I sat back and took pictures. Hey someone has to document this stuff! The end meals were absolutely sensational, freshly made tortillas, al pastor tacos topped with complex salsas, moles and unusual juices all Instagram worthy, I just wish I'd gotten a picture of the man with the squirrel. 

Our time in Mexico has gone surprisingly fast. Our photos show the progression of stress slowly leaving our faces, replaced with genuine smiles. Trials and tribulations such as our car breaking down, someone kicking a dent into the door or Jesse losing his iPhone have amazingly not soured us. Instead we head into the holidays deeply grateful of every single day we get to be here, with each other. The emotional pain we came here with has eased as our daughter returns to laughter and I now cry tears of relief that she is going to be OK. I can't say I am excited to return home, the covid situation continues to be alarming and I have chemo to start. I worry that my daughter will slip back into a black pit of despair and my world will unravel once again, so I focus on this moment, this sip of wine, and let go of trying to control the future. It has been a tour of its own to discover how to be in the world differently.

Happy Holidays everyone and remember, before you do even one more thing today, you need to Wine First.

The Spell of San Cristobal de Las Casas

They say when you fall in love, it's like fireworks. But falling in love isn't always bright fiery lights and explosions, sometimes it is subtle and grows like stepping inside after walking home in the snow to curl up next to a blazing fire; comforting and more like an easy defrosting. Our love for San Cristobal de Las Casas has been some of both.

Our initial freezing cold visit to Las Casas was filled with brilliant food, warm colored, well lived in buildings and maze like meandering streets. The native people draped in brightly colored weavings reminded me of Guatemala, a place very special to my heart. The city's center felt hidden from the rest of the world as you turned off the busy streets of the new growth to skim by pastures and twist and turn your way into the old worn stone streets at the heart of this high elevation gem. Perched overlooking the tile roofs from our hotel, there was no way to glimmer the treasures hidden below, the streets being so tightly tucked in you couldn't dream of the lively lights that welcome pedestrians down below. 

Each doorway seemed to hide a unique world within the world of Las Casas, a curious journey into Alice and Wonderland or for those familiar with it, Meow Wolf... only without the psychedelic influence of either. You stroll down the touristy main street with it's competing music screaming from bars and choose a random seeming door flanked by potted trees and fall into an elegant multi-level sophisticated mini neighborhood with a bakery and cafe, several wonderful restaurants boasting flavors from around the world, beautiful jewels sparkle in shop windows and low and behold, there is even a wine bar. Every new street in Las Casas seems to offer these escapes into wonderful new environments and the discoveries seem to be limitless. A market place full of artistic wonders sprung up before us one day, an amber museum secluded in an old monastery was our delight another day and a specialty wine shop nestled in a forgotten side street enveloped us on yet another day. 

It seems strange to chose to return to Las Casas after some of our dazzling hot spots, we know. Spending the bulk of your time in a high elevation, cold climate place when back home IS a high elevation cold place is crazy, but here we are and it is glorious. Our new home for the month is a large stone oasis, a literal secret garden that keeps the entire world a dream away. The brightly painted walls are reminders that we are in Las Casas while the stone and dense wood structure wrap around us suggesting influences of Italy or France. The elaborate gardens encircle the home with exquisite flowers falling over everything while alluring paths tease your imagination into fairy tales. The fire places in each cozy seating area cackle and whisper to you as you start to forget that there is anywhere else on the planet other than right here. Even the constant blasts from the local celebrations filled with fireworks seem dulled in this bubble. We have tried to venture from the property, but the magical spell it has cast is strong and we find ourselves spending day after day simply soaking it in. 

Our family has been needing to heal. The depth of pain our daughter was in as she battled deep depression ricocheted into Jesse and I like a silver bullet. The struggle I have had as I come to terms with another life altering disease has felt crushing to our family unit that relies on me to be the pillar. And the strain of it all has driven my husband to take drastic measures...ie this trip, stress reflecting back to us as he worries horribly about his girls. So as we slowly defrost from trauma, we warm ourselves to the curious magic of Las Casas, the fireworks exploding nearby as reminders that a love story has indeed begun.

...to be continued. And as always, don't forget to Wine First!

Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! Rumpelstiltskin! Screamed My Grief

I left Palenque in a mood. You probably caught that from my last post and my negative comments about our time there. I was probably unfairly rough on the seedy little city, after all not all areas can be full of charm and culture. The chaos and filth did bring images to mind of Dante's 7 circles of hell, but it wasn't all horrible. The tacos, of which Jesse has focused his vacation in Mexico around, were some of the best. The area was also known for exceptional fire cooked chicken, which I very much enjoyed. In addition, with the guidance of our chef friend who was born there and happened to also find himself on vacation in the area, lead us to a stone street with cool cafes and sassy little restaurants that hinted at a side hidden off the obvious streets. But what I discovered there, more than anything else, was a serious bout of pain and I realize just how much pain can filter my view of the world.

A friend recently texted me, surprised to find us returning to the coldest area we have explored in Mexico for a long stay, remarking that I looked so happy in the warm places. My quick response has sat with me for days, an attempt to be sarcastic and funny, I responded to my friend with "I'm not happy anywhere, I'm still stuck with me". And while I do absolutely agree with the sentiment, happiness is not found externally, for some reason, it seems this statement is reflecting my life in new ways. As the words roll over and over in my mind, like the ripples in a lake circling out from a sinking stone, each a new glimpse of a relationship expectation or a goal still unachieved, it shines brighter and clearer. The longer I sit with it, I find myself riding waves of anger and I realize that there were two days toward the end of our time in Palenque that I had been trying to harness my anger, stuff it down and ignore it. Obviously that didn't work and it came out sideways all over my family and poor Palenque. 

I've struggled for years with reckoning expectations of various relationships and their reality, sometimes painfully reminded by small acts of nothingness that scream the truth of what that relationship really is. Am I making sense? Having been deeply ill once before, this train of escaping souls from my life is very familiar. People have a hard time with chronic pain and don't know how to deal with someone that is inconsistent, sometimes jolly, sometimes depressed, sometimes totally normal, and I get that. I've seen this a lot, and I don't blame you if you are one of those that would rather stand over my grave one day and say "I wish I'd gone to see her one last time or reached out a little more", that is really alright. I have done that very thing with a friend who's eminent death was far more than I could stand to see in person and I hate myself for not being at her bedside. This does allow me understanding for those that are sneaking off stage right for me at this time. I also am not dying! This is severe and intense in my world, but certainly does not effect anyone else, well except my husband and daughter who have to deal with my cranky ass. And it is also round 2 for the drama of illness with me, an exhausting ride even for those most committed to be by my side, so I really get it, it just stings when it is a relationship I believed had a depth that I realize, again, does not.

The truth is the exhaustion has hit me too. I realize I am really frustrated and angry that at 42, I would end up with an autoimmune disease, and one that I had reserved for old people to boot. And not only did I get this stupid thing, but I have a severe and progressive version.  Having only recently been given my best "healed" test results from the brain tumor saga, and be thinking I had an all clear, to be slapped with this is just so unfair that I feel the rumbles inside of an inner Rumpelstiltskin angrily stomping his foot through my chest. I feel like the volcano is about to blow and pretty much everyone should take cover.

One bad street taco, yet another issue with the car, my daughter's computer breaking and a pain in the ass work project later, I ended up in bed for the last few days. We barely made it to our Airbnb in San Cristobal de Las Casas in time for our "A Fern Between US: Emotional Sanitizer Wine Show" Facebook Live show, all of us arguing as we tried to figure out which way was up in our new location. Seconds after wrapping the short show, I was stung with sweat on my brow and an ominous feeling in my gut... oh yes, after 6 weeks I finally got hit with "Mexico Tummy". It was almost like the tornado of crap manifested in ... well a tornado of crap. Sorry for the graphic note there, but you know what I mean when you feel like you somehow digested all the things driving you crazy and become physically ill? Or is that just me? Anyway, I was literally put in a timeout from the world. This could have been a blessing for the world.

This morning, having broken from my cocoon, I sat in a cozy upstairs loft looking out beautifully arched wood windows that gaze down to elaborate gardens and pathways. The fire is crackling downstairs, and I lazily scrolled through my phone's apps. Then, a simple message posted on my therapist's Facebook page stopped me in my tracks, "I sat with my anger long enough, until she told me her real name was grief" read the text laid over a melancholy image of two women sitting side by side, maybe even a painting, it was beautiful, but it was the words that hit me like a ton of bricks and hot tears streaked down my cheeks. 

I am grieving. At the heart of my anger, my perceived betrayals, my frustration, I am grieving. The idea that I had achieved good health once again only to have it smashed to pieces like a wine glass on a tile floor hurts so much I hardly have words for it. I am grieving a life without pain. I am grieving the way I thought my life would look. I want to scream and punch things. I want to claw my way out of my skin and away from the blistering pain. Why me?!?!! 

I fluctuate between wanting to voice this and the idea that in round two I don't have the right. People are sick of hearing me complain, I am sick of me complaining. I don't have a hopeful message as I conclude this post. My depression is desperately tugging at my entrails and it is a struggle to not give in. I hear my husband and daughter laughing while they play cards downstairs as I watch the storm move in and darken the windows. I try to steer my thoughts away from deeply dark ideas and decide to scrape myself out of my chair and join them. I will pour a glass of wine and take baby steps to mend. The first of which is giving myself credit for recognizing the root of my anger, looking my grief in the face and letting it have a drink with me as we get to know one another.

Paradise Lost

 As I type this, I am sitting in the middle of a lush jungle. We spent our finally day here at the resort pool, a giant lagoon shape that begs for you to indulge in the cool water and over priced drinks. We have a private bungalow that gives us reprieve from the heat and the torrential down pours and in normal times, it would shelter us from the dreadful crowds that would normally be here. During covid times, we find ourselves delightfully alone most places! Expensive hotels, which I have mentioned before, are now half price and the two states we have been traveling in, Chiapas and Oaxaca, are in covid green, something so special in these deadly times that we don't want to leave. 

I've skipped over San Cristobal de Las Casas and its adorable charm because we have decided to rent a home there for a month. When we return there in another day or so, you will no doubt, hear way too many stories about it. So I will focus on the wild of Palenque. 

The drive to get here was a beautiful torture. Beautiful scenery, but the roads required us to drive 20 miles per hour making what should have been a short drive last 6 hours! If there is a hell, it is filled with roads that are like this one and riddled with topes (speedbumps). At home speed bumps scattered here and there, you easily slow glide over them and continue on your way. In Chiapas, it is a small Mount Everest for your car, each one being a unique skill to summit and crest with a certain amount of deadly scrapping anticipated. I am pretty sure we will need to completely refurbish the underside of our still not paid off VW Jetta. Oh that reminds me, we also need to have some body work as some jerk kicked a dent in our door, we can only guess in a protest to our USA plates prior to the election? People have definite views about Trump and assume those of us from the USA are all of one mind.

Where was I? ahhh yes, comparisons to hell. We finally arrive in the town of Palenque, exhausted, and in need of food ASAP. We ventured into the chaos of swirling streets, loud noises, competing music blaring from opposing stores, people yelling over the sounds, babies crying and the sizzle of meat grilling on open flames. At the moment we parked, my daughter, hazy with anti-nausea drugs awoke. Perfect timing to yank the sensory processing disorder teen out into... well, hell. It is hot, humid and a child pissed on the sidewalk in-front of us splashing our flip flop clad feet, just as a clearly drugged homeless person, doused in a shade of shit brown that I've never seen so completely dispersed over a person wove his way toward us. We stumbled into the closest store to grab some simple provisions before heading to our jungle base. We found ourselves in a dark, smelly, cramped mess of a hole in the wall and almost blindly grabbed things from the aisles, then paid and hurried back to the car. In an attempt to carry a bright mood into this leg of our journey, I said "its not so bad!". My husband looked at me sideways and quoted a review we had read claiming "there is nothing charming or good about the town of Palenque". My daughter, having been quite, stunned into silence maybe, laughed loudly and said "ya think?!?" clearly her sarcasm was deeply intact, but at least there hadn't been a panic attack.

Luckily we were booked into a special hotel tucked into the beautiful jungle surrounding the ruins of Palenque... 15 mins from the very special place of Palenque the town; clearly my sarcasm is intact as well. 

Oddly, our most incredible experience was at a rehab/ zoo for animals that have been rescued. Those able to return to the wild are and others find a permanent home at this strange island of salvation. Unlike most zoos, where the animal is placed in a cage in our concrete world, this was a heavy jungle setting with enclosures that allow a very natural habitat and being a part of it feels really special. We watched spider monkeys play, panthers pace feet from us, macaws greet you with "hola" and crocodiles swim beneath your feet. It's a very special experience that seems completely removed from the rest of the world and totally unique.

The ruins of Palenque were truly breathtaking, wonderfully preserved and the heat stroke from hiking the easy stroll was well worth it. Especially awesome was being able to jump in the glorious pool at our hotel after. I sound like a brat, I know. Maybe I am? I fell madly in love with the ruins of Tikal years ago and I may be comparing more than I should. Tikal has a mystical atmosphere with a luscious depth of soul that I'm afraid nothing will ever live up to. 

I have be honest as well, I've been stewing and it taints my experience. My body is fighting me more and more, home calls and emails are intruding on my peace of mind and I find myself getting testy. I find writing these blog posts actually help me look at my thoughts and flip my thinking around, so thank you for being my sound board. Wins are that my daughter is actually happy sometimes, a relief for me. My husband loves the jungle and relishes each animal he sees and I love soaking in the warm humidity and gorgeous green hues surrounding us. So I sign off remembering to not look at emails incessantly, to leave the phone in the room, to concentrate once again on less stress and more relaxation. I will pour a glass of wine, slather up with sticky menthol gel and tune out the sounds of the world while I tune into the final night in the jungle. I guess sometimes you need to venture to hell and back to remind yourself that you are sitting in paradise. 

As a side note, we are in the covid green zone and loving every second of feeling safe. We have decided not to venture into central or northern Mexico that is flaming red right now. We still wear our masks, we still sanitize, we still take precautions and we hope you are too. I know many of you are green with envy as we travel and you are stuck at home, we know you are suffering and I do not take the gift of this trip lightly. I'm deeply appreciative of every day I have here and only tell the negative to share the real truth of my experience, I hope in some small way this actually distracts you from the problems you are facing and brings a smile to your face. And more than anything, I hope you had wine in your glass because... say it with me...before anything else, Wine First. 

No One Likes a Complainer, Unless That Complainer is Me

Anyone watching my Instagram feed has been drooling with envy as I post gorgeous photo after gorgeous photo of luxurious hotel rooms or my feet posed with various beautiful settings in the distance, a cool drink sweating in the foreground... and rightly you all should, we are having an epic trip. But as with everything, there are the oddities, hassles and inconveniences that everyone encounters while traveling and while we have weathered them well (less stress has made us all less explosive), these disappointments are itching to be shared and I feel it is my job to complain about them to you. What???? You love me for my whining! 

*Trigger warning: in the time of covid, if you can not read this with the humor intended or take the irritation I share with a grain of salt because I know I am, after all, on vacation and you are, in fact, stuck in your house, please do not continue. I swear I will post fun uplifting pieces soon.

My complaining takes us back to Oaxaca City. Hotels made from old Colonial Homes are charming, I fall for it every single time. And since it was the wealthy that owned those homes originally, they also have the best/ most prominent locations so you DO want to stay there, however, the rooms suck. No, no, I know how the house was built and the function of the rooms facing into the inner courtyard was done on purpose, but in modern times, if you are going to squish multiple beds into a room that can not accommodate them, some issues are bound to be had. In our room for example, the door opened into the first bed. "Ahhh the first thing you saw was a bed" you say to yourself. Nope, it opened INTO the bed as in smash, door can't fully open, the bed is there. Next, it's single file to get to the restroom, 3 people definitely was over max capacity for this room. And then, the shower door wouldn't close. Like a bad dream seeping slowly over your day, the door eased its way open until you stood fully exposed, naked and cold. "Michele, this is not that bad, you should have seen my hotel room (or apartment) in NYC" you say, well, I'm about to get pickier, so buckle in! When we first entered the room, I did not like the smell. Ok, yes I do have heighten olfactory senses and I have been known to find issues with spaces that others do not. But this room reeked of death and it was bad enough for Jesse to complain to the front desk. Luckily the staff was amazing and cleaned the entire room with bleach. I sat in the charming common space and tried to bite my tongue. Then the air conditioning didn't work and because this is a charming Colonial Home turned hotel, there are no windows so the only option in the explosive heat, was to have the room doors open to the common space... ya, you're welcome fellow guests for the naked show from the shower. The final, and perhaps biggest grievance was that they had no ice bucket available in order to cool down the white wine or beers for my much needed alcohol reprieve. I'm aware ice is a hot commodity in a warm climate, I was happy to buy it from the OXXO next door, but there was no way to use it, no plug for the whole in the sink, no bucket to be had, no bowl for my use... what were they trying to do, kill me?!? Needless to say, we had to move hotels. The next one had massive amounts of space, a mini fridge with a beautiful husky whisper every time you opened it, expelling a sensual breath into the room that said "drink my cold white wine".

After Oaxaca City, we sadly said goodbye to the incredible staff and pristine solitude of the luxury hotel (where I could shower without being the evening's show) and headed to the coast. We had no way of knowing what to expect, that is part of the fun when we travel, but also the reason things can blowup in your face.

The drive to the coast is slow going. The twists and turns are much like driving in Colombia and we reminisced about that trip and how much we missed the dazzling rainbow of monochromatic greens there... between pulling over so my daughter could puke. We finally pulled into the hot streets of the cute beach town of Puerto Escondido. It has the funky flavor of some of your favorite Mexico spots mixed with a charm that tells of the money that has been seeping in over many years. Trying to actually find our hotel was a journey down bad dirt roads and a maze of driveways that on a future night would actually result in us completely lost... only a few yards from the damn hotel. Oy Vey! Anyway, I already posted about how amazing the hotel was, so let me complain a bit. We decided that we needed to see the bioluminescent lagoon and why not take a tour! I have yet to share the tail of our amazing tours we took in Oaxaca City that lead up to the belief that tours are the BEST. This tour was scheissa. 

Bioluminescence is essentially the incredible phenomenon of these bugs in the water glowing neon green in the dark of night when touched. That is clearly not the scientific description so please google it if interested. We contracted the tour guide to take us to this lagoon and out on a boat. Before we knew it, the private tour was now with another group, partiers from a nearby nude beach. The plan was to meet at a hut near the dock, we arrived and sat with the guide under a single light-bulb, swarmed by mosquitoes, drenched in sweat. I was miserable, but more than my annoyance was my concern for my daughter as we waited. My daughter suffers from sensory issues so the heat, bugs and oppressive humidity was teaming up to create a meltdown panic attack. This is why we make choices wisely for our family such as having a private tour. 40 minutes later the group finally arrived without an apology or excuse. They lost each other between the van and the water and created an obnoxious scene for the locals to chuckle about. Thankfully the guide assessed the situation, also annoyed by the behavior and lack of courtesy and separated us into our own boat, once again we had our private tour. Things seemed to be turning around as the boat created a welcomed breeze and we disappeared into the night. There was zero description of what we were to see, the boat simply stopped and the guide ordered Jesse to jump into the water. Yes, we started to wonder what kind of stupid decision we had made as well; somehow alone in a black lagoon, our wallets left on the boat, seems like a setup. But when the glow circled around Jess in the wildly alien way it does, my daughter and I jumped into the bathwater warm lagoon to join in the fun. The sparkles danced on our skin and it was magical. After 15 mins we got back in the boat, smelling of funky water, and were dropped back off at shore. In comparison to the level of education, duration and personal attention we received on our previous tours, for a fraction of the price, this was bogus. Littered with bites, we returned to our hotel to shower and bitch about the other group, after all the impact of the rude tourists was longer than our tour, I guess we got something for our money after all.

We finished out our time at the exquisite cliff side villa and ventured on to what sounded like a culturally rich immersion into the Isthmus. This would be stop one on our way to the ruins of Palenque and a much needed rest after a long day driving. We found wind, a cell block of a room with beds possibly made entirely of wood and a strange goo running down the wall. The hotel was huge and completely empty which lended itself to feeling like the movie The Shinning. Jess and I ran out for food and did find amazing dishes... really surprising considered the stretch of nothing that we had to choose from. We realized quickly that the 2 nights we booked here was a huge mistake and we exchanged looks of silent horror. To add to the theme of the hotel, a street adjacent to the property shuddered alive with the popping of gun shots. At first only a couple, enough to get our attention. It was followed by another 3 just to make sure as we questioned ourselves that we wouldn't have a doubt of what it was. As if anticipating our feelings, the lonely front desk person alerted us that she'd accidentally only charged us for one night and offered that we could leave. First thing in the morning we packed in a hurry and hit the road. It was as if Hotel California finally cracked open and we COULD leave. We might have left skid marks in the parking lot. 

We felt like gypsies, heading to the next town, hopeful the hotel could take us in a night earlier than reserved. The mountains climbed up and the feeling of the land and its people shifted, a more indigenous quality and we carefully got excited about what was to come. Driving the tiny stone streets of San Cristobal de Las Casas to our hotel, our eyes were lavished with charm and stunning beauty. We started to look for our hotel's name in one of the nooks of the twisted streets, "its called Las Escaleras" I told Jesse, he said "babe that means The Stairs" and looked at me and then my arthritic knees then back at me. Damn, I should really learn Spanish. 

The saga continues, many great memories are being made and some of them are actually due to surviving misfortune together. Maybe I should say here that I actually don't like to complain. Wait, no I love to complain, but I try not to. I am actually a pretty the-glass-is-half-full kind of gal, especially when traveling. Maybe it builds up and that's why I have to vomit it out to all of you. I know that I am beyond lucky to be able to take this long trip with my family. I know many of you are suffering far more than I am without a way to escape. I hope you are able to enjoy my tales of woe as an escape and know that I'm deeply appreciative of every second, even if those seconds are covered with millions of mosquitoes bites.

Stay safe everyone and no matter what, Wine First!

Hey Crazy, What Are You Crazy?

Rheumatoid Arthritis, that's the old lady problem right? You know the one, where the old lady is all tangled up in her own fingers and angry in pain? The one we dismiss as "a bummer" and go on our way never to think of again. Ya, well welcome to your journey into it...with me. 

I have to admit that the diagnosis itself feels like a sentence to becoming the villain in a Disney movie. I immediately saw myself needing to invest in a basket full of temptingly red apples. Turns out it is more complex than that. Did you know that there are different types of arthritis??? I didn't. Ahh to be young and blissfully unaware. Well, turns out you can get the regular kind or you can get the autoimmune disease shit-ass kind. Guess which kind I have?!? Ya, I'm starting to think my body is trying to off me too. So what is this bullshit kind I have? It is when the body turns on itself and in this case, attacks the joints. Wow, you say to yourself, what is that like? Well...it is unlike other pain I have had. It isn't like the pain of an injury or the bone crushing pain I had all over my body with the brain tumor. It also is not like the alien feeling of pain that comes with growing a child in your body or giving birth. It is a whole new weird, inescapable feeling.

You have to be thinking, since this is what I thought, being young, catching it early, means not much to deal with. Nope. As my specialist decreed "this is severe and moving fast" , greeeeeaaaatttt. 

It started in the Spring of 2020, I'd just gotten back from NYC and fallen ill, maybe it was covid, maybe it was not, any which way, I was ill in a way I'd never experienced before and it was just as the lockdown hit our state. As I recovered, we all tried to find a new normal trapped in our home with nothing but our strange thoughts. Being suddenly aware of all the weird things in our small environment, I attributed some joint pain to simply getting old and a sudden awareness to anything and everything, almost like a form of entertainment. I even thought maybe it was that I wasn't getting enough exercise, that I seemed to be in atrophy. Then time to time, my left hand started to bother me, the knuckles grew sore. Before I knew it, my wrist hurt too. Then more knuckles, my elbow, my other hand... I continued to ignore it,  after all we had far bigger fish to fry as our worlds seemed to implode with the stress of covid. Then, one day as I unloaded the dishwasher, chatting with my daughter, my hand and forearm seized in pain and contorted into unnatural positions. It startled us both, the intensity of my shriek, the oddness of the behavior and then it was over. We stared at each other and she asked "what was that?!?" I mirrored her awe back to her and shook my head. My mind immediately went to 'ahhh shit, was that a stroke?', but everything else felt fine, I seemed ok, so of course I dumped it from my brain... until it happened again. Well...actually I did alert my husband to the next time it happened, but to tell the truth what got me to call the doctor was when I couldn't open a bottle of wine on my own. Clearly I was in trouble. My left wrist and hand wouldn't brace the bottle tight enough to be a stabilizer for my right hand to maneuver the corkscrew, it was absolutely terrifying. Images of a fate worse than death flashed before my eyes, what if I was going to have to wait until Jesse got home from work each day before I could have my 1st glass of wine...and during covid! Shrieks of horror echoed across the valley that day.

Fast forward a few months and the RA has gotten worse, quickly. All the joints in my left hand hurt, every single one. My left wrist and elbow are some of the worst joints in my body. My left shoulder, both knees, ankles, toes, right hand knuckles in my pointer and pinky, wrist and shoulder also hurt, but not as bad as the left. Often the issue is that the joint feels like it has been sedated. Like my wrist, for example, took a couple Vicodin with a vodka shot and is out for the night, it simply refuses to respond. Other times it is a severe pain originating inside and burrowing its way out. It is more like the center of a joint has exploded and caused the bone to splinter. Those splinters are now shoved into the nearby bones; like a hangnail ripped back into the cuticle or thick sharp piece of wood jammed under your nail bed. Believe it or not, this is not as bad as the pain associated with a brain tumor so clearly I'm still WINNING. 

I am taking various drugs to try to hold the progression, some to give me some peace from the pain, but nothing seems to help much. The usual drugs that help most people with RA are not an option due to my brain tumor issues so we have had to be creative. My doctor wants to "hit it hard with 3-6 months of chemo" in the hopes that that can be like a system reset for the autoimmune disease and then we can maintain some amount of health after that. I'm all for it. So why isn't that what I am doing right now? Why am I gallivanting all over Mexico during a pandemic? What am I crazy?!? Well, that part is complicated. 

As a mom, we sacrifice... and go a little crazy. From the moment you become pregnant, everything about your body, your life, your emotions...they all get a dose of 'what's good for the baby' and it doesn't let up, even when they become teenagers, or as my mom would say, adults too. This year has been difficult for so many of us, and when it hits your child, you become obsessed with fixing it. Depression is tricky, it can sneak up on you and tear you down. Over the years I've battled with it from light to severe, as you can imagine due to Cushings I had to write a will for an eminent surgery that could result in death, blindness, loss of smell (maybe the worst for me considering my career) or a brain fluid leak that would create horrific debilitating headaches... all while your child watches you disintegrate, can create a deep depression. I will be honest and share that I've been on an antidepressant for about 6 years. I have tried to wean off (always with my doctor's assistance) and then had to increase again. I've had loss and deeply disturbing life experiences that resulted in a need to go back up in dose. So, when my child started to plummet, I knew we needed to act swiftly and my husband saw it too. Perhaps the best way to impress upon you the serious nature of which I speak is that when discussing the need to travel, change locations and have a brain reset for my family, my doctor got it. She has a teenage daughter as well and we held hands, in a covid safe way, in her office, leveled to just two women knowing the unsettling deep love, fear and craziness of being a mom, and we cried together. 

And so here we are, soaking in the sunshine of Mexico, lapping up the delights of the cuisine and relaxing deeply. It is clear it has been helpful, as smiles reappear, and it may be just a band-aid, but we are trying to continue therapy sessions and a healthy evolution toward staying afloat. Yes, I hurt all the time, but my heart, the one that walks around outside my body, has started to heal and that is all I can see. So pour me some mescal, open me a beer and fill my glass with wine because regardless of the shit-show that your life is, and no matter how crazy things get, Wine First.

I Left My Heart in Puerto Escondido

I left you all with a strange introspection last post. Today I'm in a much different place...literally. Yesterday I spent all day laying on a chaise on our balcony over looking the turquoise ocean, steps from our spacious, elegant Villa. Giant potted plants bloomed fuchsia next to me and my husband swung in a hammock to my side, a happy half smile resting on his lips. I felt relaxed and happy. "Happy", I don't know when I last felt happy. The chilled glass of white wine was sweating in my hand while my daughter leaned her waif like body against the railing, entranced by the papaya orange sunset, her chestnut hair sweeping sleepily around her eyes, eyes that finally reflect peace. Every day is shades of this and I really never want to leave this place. 

All of our experiences have been incredible from day one in Mexico; oddly it feels like the beautiful tour of hotels this trip. But this place... with the excellent beach, 80 degree water and sandy bottom, the lullaby waves and warm, humid air's embrace, is so much of what I have been needing, it is intoxicating. Or maybe that's the wine. Another of the charms we have discovered is the outstanding wine industry that seems to have boomed since our last trip to central Mexico some 6 years ago. 

I am lost in the days this trip, not knowing what the date is or what is happening back at home. I have never gone on vacation and left so much of my work at home, and I have to say, it feels amazing! Is this how other people have been travelling?!? I'm usually hurrying back from a tour of the city or play time in the water to answer emails, choreograph events, manage distribution and all the paperwork that goes along with running a winery. Often Jesse and our daughter are forced out exploring so they can "get out of my hair" and I can furiously work, a madwoman chaotically flipping through files and banging away on the keyboard just so I can get some R&R in for part of the day. But this trip, this is like the agave honey I add to my Mezcal, rich and smooth, a silky flow of sweetness that erases all the bitterness and bite from your life. 

The professionals, both my doctors and my daughter's therapist, encouraged the taking of this trip. A necessary application of travel to sooth deeply troubled parts of our lives. My RA specialist teared up as we spoke in her office discussing a plan for treatment balancing the need for this trip. Her heartfelt connection and understanding has forever bonded me to her and I reflect on just how lucky I have been to have had so many amazing doctors in my life. She also recommended a daily dose of tequila, like I said, I love this woman. We had hoped we were making the right decision, traveling during covid times seeming needlessly dangerous, but as the days tick away and we settle into the decadent, simple life of Mexico's getaway destinations, it feels more than right, it feels bone deep necessary. 

I have stories to tell of the sites, sounds and tastes of Oaxaca City, magical explorations and culinary treats. I have stories of trying to escape the evolving pain of RA and its strange deterioration of my joints, but those all need to wait for another day. Today, all I can do is raise my wide brimmed hat from my eyes to watch giant turtles play, read the  book that has been calling me for 6 months and sip my wine, because as we all know, before you can do anything, you need to Wine First.

To Hell & Back Again: Welcome to My Bad Mood

 

I'm flooded with annoyance this morning. I'm not sure why exactly either. I am in a gorgeous place, having amazing experiences, eating incredible food, drinking wonderful local wines... so what's up? You've probably guessed that I am happy with the USA election results so it definitely isn't that. Maybe it's traveling with a teenager that in the natural consequence of sharing hotel rooms has become a total cockblock. Sorry for the overshare on that, but we are all adults here right? Or maybe it is the scrolling through social media to see post after post of people I thought I knew, sharing things that seem like contradictory ideas to who I thought they were. Its as if 2020 has given some a high dose of LSD and they have never really come out of the trip. Don't get me wrong, I'm fine with difference of opinion, I am actually one of those people that did not unfriend anyone for their views during this heated election. I have allowed space for constructive discussion and think it is important to have, I also believe that you can "sleep" a friendship or scroll past a post. I have been criticized for this so called lackadaisical approach, but I believe it is a fine line to walk. Anyone that posted hate speech I did block, I don't think there is room for that anywhere, but just as I want to have the opportunity to possibly open someone's mind up to a new way of thinking about something, I recognize that they have the same drive and that most people are coming from a place of truth, even if we don't agree. I understand the stance that certain affiliations are seen as belief in misogyny and racism, and I do see an increase of those beliefs in the people that support those that seem to condone revolting behavior, but I have also had some amazing conversations with people that have allowed for a back and forth and that have not necessarily changed their overall views, but said that it has made an impact on them. They now know someone that is ___ or has had ____ happen and that the discussion makes them question some of their ideas. This is deeply important to me, to give a face to something they didn't understand and feared from it being unknown. But today, I suddenly hit a limit of seeing aspects of people I thought I knew, go to the dark side and disregard logical discussion.

As I said, I'm flooded with annoyance. Maybe I'm overly sensitive to social media today, because I'm itching to be irritated. My mind seems to be finding the holes in conversations I had before we even left on this vacation, a sudden emotional hook on something that should probably be dropped. Or maybe it is the constant low-grade pain that my rheumatoid arthritis is causing in every joint in my body. The meds seem to be dulling the pain, decreasing inflammation and addressing some aspects, but by the time evening has come, my body pings at me in pain. I apply a cream to sooth joints, like my wrists, and find that they can't bend to a normal degree on their own. It is a strange sensation, like the joint has become so deeply fatigued that it passed out mid use. Or maybe its that over the course of a brain tumor, travel, turning 40 (and my metabolism slowing down), then 2020 and an autoimmune disease... my body has packed on the pounds. I hardly recognize myself and the constant reminder as I try on a cute dress, or have my teenager tell me that I look like I'm pregnant, are a daily battleground of self-hatred.

Man, I've gone to a dark place. I bet you are really glad you decided to read this blog today, uplifting right? LOL! What can I say, I'm not always fun to be around. OK, OK, OK, let me turn this around. Maybe I just needed to vomit it out, see it on screen and realize that it isn't all as bad as I'm feeling it to be. Do you ever find yourself in that place? Head full of negativity only to take a moment to look at it and realize none of it is that bad? Those people that I'm sad to see change before my eyes, well, maybe I need a break from seeing so much of them, continue to practice the "sleep" mode when need be. Maybe I need to just relax, let the sun of Mexico seep into my bones. Maybe I just need to get laid.

I appreciate you letting me vent, lending me your ear. Now I will go search out a glass of wine, because before I can practice self acceptance, I'll need to Wine First.

Mezcal and What?!?

Most of us are sitting, stunned this morning. The election results are still not final, but having such a close race is disturbing. I try not to openly speak about politics or religion because of my affiliation with our family business and as I've crafted the branding over these years, it has been important to all of us to be inclusive, keep personal feelings aside and welcome anyone to our doors. However, at this time, I have to say that I am shocked at how close this election is and I'm deeply concerned. That said, it is time to talk of other things... 

Mezcal! What the hell is it and why would anyone drink it? Yes it is the alcohol that sometimes has a worm at the bottom and often has a smokey aroma. Yes, it is the drink I have steered clear of because I viewed it as Tequila's evil cousin, but evidently it is much more. 

Oaxaca is known for several things, chocolate, gorgeous embroidery, ornate carved figurines, mole and Mezcal. After a tasting at a Mezcalria and some light reading on the subject (ok so Jesse did the reading and then told me pieces of info), I am learning how amazingly complex and interesting the drink is. I am a lightweight when it comes to hard booze and am, in fact one of those people that swears they can taste the difference in various vodkas, something I've been told by heavy spirit aficionados is impossible. So a Mezcal tasting wasn't exactly my cup of tea, but being obsessed with analyzing flavors and aromas, I happily accompanied my husband. 

I have to sidestep here for a moment to say that the branding of this Mezcalria "In Situ", was incredible. The evil drinking rabbit logo was clever to begin with, but they had black tiles laid in the floor that beautifully incorporated the design as well. The elegant, upscale tasting room took the logo and snuck it into every possible aspect of the bottles, merchandise, glasses and gift wrap. It was impeccable and my branding bone twitched with envy.

OK back to the actual booze. We each tried 3, I took on the flavor infused and Jesse took on the pure, plant focused line up. Amazingly, these artisan crafts are meant to showcase the plant and never be sweet so while plum, honey chile and chocolate may sound like a girly drink, they are most certainly not. I really enjoyed the sampling and learning how they add the infused flavors during distilling and in pure form so, for example, the chocolate was actual cocao beans! I also learned that Oaxaca supplies the bulk of the agave used for Mezcal. And handy tip, Tequila is a type of Mezcal, but made from the blue agave plant and made in a very specific way in Tequila, Mexico. Think Champagne, only called such if made in a specific way in Champagne, France. Jesse tasted 3 that were quite unique and while the 1st one smelled lovely of green vegetation, the palate was a bit intense for me. The 2nd, the more classic smokey version was actually sweeter on the palate and the 3rd made my face twist and contort, guess which one Jesse liked? Yep, the weird 3rd one that smelled of band-aid and tasted like sweat socks, or what I imagine sweat socks to taste like. He's so weird.

As I scribbled notes, the gentleman pouring discussed the intricacies of the 3 Jess tasted. As he learned that Jess is a winemaker and also amateur distill fanatic, he launched into different aspects of the process and the plants. "This plant was 30 years old before harvest, they did a hand mash and distilled in copper then added the chicken and did a second run..." hey hey hey WHAT?!? Yes, yes that's right... CHICKEN!!! OK that is when the wheels in my head came to s screeching halt. Maybe I am naive in the hard booze biz, but did you know that meat is sometimes used as a flavoring component?!? Ya, this is no bueno in my book and I am an avid meat eater. 

Needless to say, we bought a small bottle of chocolate, a small bottle of the "green one" and Jess got a big bottle of the chicken, ewww. They wrapped them beautifully in logo stamped paper, mine even came in a delightful box with a bowl/ cup they like you to drink out of... that has the logo subtly formed into the bottom of the glass, and slid the items into a bag made from the fibers of the agave plant. A+ for attention to detail "in Situ"! As a thank you, they gave us fantastic logo emblazoned masks, I seriously love this place.

Once home in our new hotel, we stretched out over the bed and checked our phones. We have switched hotels, finding a far more amazing place 4 blocks from our previous hotel right in the middle of things, but absolutely divine. It looks like an art gallery, the room has big windows with flowers planted along it, the room is twice the size and the location offers us a new area to explore. Social media was on fire with anticipation for election results and we felt we needed to seek out alternative entertainment. Jesse chose booze news (yes this is a thing) and excitedly alerted me that he MUST have this Bourbon made with deer meat and one made with the musk of the beaver. I'm seriously disgusted and wondering if my husband needs mental health support.

Now, today is stretching into afternoon and I have a glass of chilled Chenin Blanc from Mexico in my glass, my deep love for wine ecstatic over this nectar. The heat of the sun is warming my feet and the joy of being 2000 miles from home as the insanity unfolds in the USA, is deeply soothing. I send you all love, kindness, and patience as these will no doubt be difficult times regardless of results. Take time out of the day to pour yourself a glass of wine and take a deep breath because no matter what, Wine First. 

You Have Arrived

 

DISCLAIMER: I want to start with the fact that we have been extremely safe during the time of Covid. We have essentially been in lock down since March 2020. We wear masks, we sanitize, we socially distance. But, as with other families around the world, we have faced critical issues that have forced us to assess the risk of travel against the risk of dropping everything for a loved one in need. The details are not mine to share so I'll leave it at that. I ask that you trust me, I wouldn't be travelling under regular conditions during a pandemic. 

Oaxaca has been our destination since leaving the USA and finally we have made it. The City isn't what I thought it would be though. Somehow it is far more authentic than the Disneyland version I'd anticipated. The colorful buildings and expressive colonial facades are what I pictured, but the feeling is different. I always find that curious, the feeling of a place. No matter how many photos you see prior to arrival, the feeling is its own and it can either envelope you or reject you. Oaxaca definitely welcomed us with open arms... after a momentary, cautious check.

Like a hesitant blind date, the city seemed to hold back at first. We arrived stunned by the chaos of the large city and confused by the expensive hotel that called a small room with no windows a "junior suite". We stumbled about the dirty Zocalo (a plaza of sorts that is in the shape of a cross so really 4 different squares) and wondered if we'd made a mistake booking so many days in this strange city. The next morning however, as we lapped up coffee in the most charming balcony patio you could possibly imagine, a veil was lifted and we began our courtship with this mysterious town. 

Usually a packed tourist destination, the almost empty streets opened up to us. The "dirty" square shrugged off the grime and allowed us a peak into covertly smart combinations of the old traditions and the new styles. Covid safe practices are followed to a degree we haven't seen before and made us feel protected in market places. The giant markets are filled with so many goodies you can't help but gasp and fill your nose with the cloth of your mask. Colors so magically vibrant, smells so defiantly exotic and wonders the eyes have never seen... at least my USA white girl's eyes have never seen. And the best part? It is all largely your own play space as they limit numbers and the stalls beg you to make discoveries all your own. Quickly we became enamored by the subtle whisper that Oaxaca was, the gentle warm breeze that swathed us, and the easy massage that was culling our weary bones. It is unusual to find a place so original while simultaneously tourism driven, it has not lost its authenticity and that is poetic.

We have planned purposely to be here for Dia de Los Muertos, a place touted as one of the best to celebrate this festival in Mexico. While Covid has clearly made an impact on festivities, it is perhaps more perfect as we get to sneak into the local celebrations with a silent, artistic peak at what it really means here; no parades, no fiestas, but pure unadulterated beauty and dedication. Giant skeletons ornately dressed stand guard at corners and on balconies while orange flowers drip over doorways, and everywhere you turn you find the most amazing shrines to those we've lost. The longer we are here, the more it seems to seep into our blood. I see the chaos of home less and less in my rear-view mirror and I breathe a sigh of relief. My joints scream time to time throughout the day as I battle RA, but my daughter laughs with an ease that I haven't heard in so long that my chest literally pounds with happy heartbeats.

I have backed off work while I travel, a first for me. I usually spend a great deal of our vacation working and to have a mandate from my doctor to make my life stress free immediately is definitely a change. I gratefully have my sister-in-law taking over aspects of my part of the winery and while the sensation of letting go is foreign to me, it is adding a lush and vibrant element to my existence and I relish every moment.

As I sip my Madera 5 Rose of Sangiovese, a Mexican wine a little too salty, a little too acidic, but beautifully strawberry and interesting, I ask you to reflect on where you can pull back in your life. The stress of the election tomorrow is weighing heavy on everyone. Let us be kind to one another and to ourselves. Pour a glass and remember that no matter what you do, Wine First.

Do As The Locals Do

 

DISCLAIMER: I want to start with the fact that we have been extremely safe during the time of Covid. We have essentially been in lock down since March 2020. We wear masks, we sanitize, we socially distance. But, as with other families around the world, we have faced critical issues that have forced us to assess the risk of travel against the risk of dropping everything for a loved one in need. The details are not mine to share so I'll leave it at that. I ask that you trust me, I wouldn't be travelling under regular conditions during a pandemic. 

 As we completed another long day of driving, the city of Puebla, only an hour and a half left away, tantalized us with an end near in sight. Suddenly the free for all of crisscrossing traffic narrowed into tight straight lines and we found ourselves in stand still traffic. Walled in by semi-trucks we sat for hours, discouraged and frustrated we saw no way out. The accident 8 miles up the road (a couple semi-trucks having tipped over, a mess, but didn't seem to have serious injuries) would take many more hours to clear and we started to survey our supplies for a probable night in the car. Out of the stillness, a truck in the lane up ahead, sandwiched in, began twisting and turning in its confines, threatening to crush its own bumpers against the bohemith vehicles surrounding it. Then suddenly, the small sized truck reversed skirting a semi-truck, narrowly escaping the steep concrete crevasse that ran along the highway, past a cop and then up onto the grassy hill beside us. We watched in awe, what was this psycho doing?!? Local men standing at the top of the hill, presumably to ascertain any progress with the accident up ahead, began working with shovels to create a makeshift bridge and helped heave the truck over this off-road obstacle course and then... he was gone. Jealousy must have hit more than just us because soon other trucks were squeezing their way awkwardly through spaces that caused us to gasp. Where were they going?!?! Were we crazy enough to follow?

The answer to that last question seemed to be a shaky yes. As the car behind us readied himself for the tango to free his car, he yelled out the window for us to follow. Elated at the idea of freedom Jesse threw the car into reverse, my daughter and I quickly voicing our concerns, we we found ourselves, in our small VW Jetta, riding over enormous ditches and piles of dirt down into fields of wheat and corn. We trailed behind the other crazy people driving through these crops along what can only be assumed to be ancient tractor tracks. We emerged onto a small road that wove its way through tiny towns and back on our way to our destination. Even for people that grew up off-roading in the hills of Taos, NM, this was exhilarating. Perhaps simply because the breath of being freed from a certain terrible night in our car was avoided. Maybe it was the idea of being in a different country and feeling like this was certainly not a legal way to find a new route. Any which way, we knew the adventure had for sure begun.

Puebla itself proved to be charming. We stayed in the old part of the city, a block from the central plaza and church, in a fantastic two story little apartment style hotel that tended to our every need. We wandered under the mandarin colored lights, ate moles in every color of the rainbow and sipped delicious Mexican wine.

The slow nature of Mexican culture is deeply soothing to our raw USA lives. And it isn't that Mexico is loose on covid, they are incredibly on top of it actually. Temperatures are taken before you are allowed to sit in an outdoor cafe that is setup on the sidewalk. Your hands are sanitized and everything is wiped down before and after you touch it. EVERYONE is wearing masks and while the social distancing appears to be less, it is based on familiar pods of people with stores/ restaurants/ hotels limiting numbers, and keeping seats separated. It feels very safe, it is beautiful, the people are amazing and we are grateful to be here.

So why are we here? People really want to know, and as the disclaimer states, I can't get into all the details, but I will share my personal issues. I was officially diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and the pain is effecting my daily existence. Several years ago I battled a brain tumor via a disease called "cushings" which I have healed from, but will have to be monitored for forever. Having an autoimmune disease now seems horribly unfair and my depression has spiked. My daughter has also needed support as she has struggled with depression and as the spiral of our family seemed to plummet, we needed to get creative and quickly. My RA is severe and I am on strong drugs to combat progression, but due to cushings, we have had to be creative since I can't take things that would interfere with that. And, when I return home, we will combat the RA with a hard hit of chemo treatments for 3-6 months. Yes I did make the choice to come to Mexico during a pandemic, during a scary diagnosis and during political unrest, and yes, it was absolutely the right choice.

And so, another type of healing has begun; one of great food, warm breezes and breathtakingly beautiful culture. Join us in raising a glass as Dia de Los Muertos starts and remember, no matter how bad things get to open some wine and Wine First!

Beyond Boarders

 

DISCLAIMER: I want to start with the fact that we have been extremely safe during the time of Covid. We have essentially been in lock down since March 2020. We wear masks, we sanitize, we socially distance. But, as with other families around the world, we have faced critical issues that have forced us to assess the risk of travel against the risk of dropping everything for a loved one in need. The details are not mine to share so I'll leave it at that. I ask that you trust me, I wouldn't be travelling under regular conditions during a pandemic. 

The morning we left New Mexico on our journey toward Oaxaca Mexico, it was warm and the last of the golden leaves were falling. We packed our car to the brim and made it our future home for the next few months. My husband at the wheel, we made the 12 hour trip into Texas, day one down. I'm sure you are wondering how we did this safely, what we encountered and for many of you that messaged me, what is it like in Texas?!? 

In this very strange time, I have to admit that leaving felt very much like a zombie apocalypse movie, dangerous people everywhere, absolute mistrust of venturing from the safety of our car... for anything, even gas. And what we discovered was that the stories of Texas being essentially mask free was true, what little we saw of the state, was filled with people congregated in groups, maskless. We kept to ourselves, masks on, let people stare and slathered the antibacterial on. 

The following day we crossed into Mexico. I don't know if you have driven from the USA into Mexico ever, but under the best of times your imagination can flood with the worst news stories. We drove easily across and into a strange little town, fumbled around trying to find the registration office and panicked that we'd be turned back, but we weren't. Everyone was friendly and helpful and shockingly in compliant with the mask mandate. 

Each mile we drove, we felt terrible that we were "those Americans" the self-righteous type that ignore the rules. We'd clearly crossed the boarder when we weren't supposed to, we were travelling during a global pandemic, we were essentially running away and it felt every bit like being a fugitive... not that we actually know what being a fugitive is like, but we watch A LOT of movies. So pretty much experts.

The drive to Oaxaca is without a doubt a commitment. We are currently on day 5 and the exhaustion is palpable, yet it is mixed with a relief that is indescribable. Everyone wears masks here, I mean everyone, the homeless are even wearing masks. Hotels and restaurants take your temperature and sanitize your hands, they clean behind you as you walk, they limit numbers and separate customers and there are hardly any tourists. The lack of people make exquisite hotels available inexpensively and they become our own private villas. The three of us look dreamily at each other, a collective sigh of relief for our family, and we gratefully continue our journey deeper and deeper into Mexico.

It has been pretty uneventful so far, the biggest hurdle was trying to get Siri to speak properly. No you read that correctly, Siri works fine, it is the speaking that is ridiculous. Clearly Siri did not take Spanish in high school. This leaves me, a dyslexic with directional challenges, to direct my husband as he drives through  congested cities. The traffic flying in every direction, complete disregard for lines on the road, Siri is calling out street names that don't make sense, are completely unintelligible and at one point, as we careened toward a busy intersection, Jess starts yelling "which way? which way?", the arrow on the map had several seconds of delay causing my response to be "ahhhhhhh.....uuhhhhhh....ahhhhh!" and then Siri rang through the chaos with non-words and finally had a stroke simply uttering 'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'. We chose a road, luckily the correct one of the 6 presented, and erupted into laughter. It is those moments that, while harrowing, bring us together. It is why travel has been so important to our family and it was a reminder that yes, we do need to be doing this. As long as we survive the driving. 

After Siri's stroke, we decided to venture into Mexican Siri options where she pronounces the streets correctly making it far easier to find where you are going... only she also speaks entirely in Spanish so we have a full immersion happening now, also not ideal. Luckily Jesse was a Spanish Literature major, I on the other hand seem to have learned Spanish from the first version of Siri. Needless to say we are having an adventure. In fact some parts of the drive are more of an adventure than others, but that's for another post.

Hopefully you will all sit safely in your homes, glass of wine in hand and enjoy our journey remotely. We have only packed enough wine to cover our weekly "A Fern Between Us: Emotional Sanitizer Wine Show" (on the Vivac Winery Facebook page every Thursday at 5:00 (mnt time)), so please, raise a glass for me.

Cheers and remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!

Covid19 Shopping

The Stay-at-Home-Order is still in effect in New Mexico and we are following it as best we can. Luckily the winery is still in production so there are projects for the winemakers to do. My theory is that these projects keep them more sane perhaps, than some of us that are stuck wandering from the bedroom to the living-room and back again trying to find ways to entertain ourselves for the 5 billionth day in a row.

As you all know, my number 1 hobby is drinking wine, but even I need some diversity. At first it was the Netflix binge, then Hulu, then Hulu add-ons, and of course Prime... I have now literally seen everything ever made. Then, finally I became prey to the click bait ads on social media selling you crap. I've always known that it is going to be cheap fabrics sewn together by children in some far off country, but when you can't sleep at 3am, somehow $15 for that cute shirt that the skinny, beautiful, young model is wearing seems like just the thing you need. Hell maybe it will even inspire you to get dressed, finally, tomorrow. Well, that one purchase turned into several more, like a crackhead I clicked on the PayPal button, eager to pay and leave the site before my conscience could talk me out of it. And after waiting for 4+ weeks for my items to arrive, lets see what I got.

It started with bras. Like most women during this time, it has become a lounge pants and no bra household, however, with an occasional zoom during the week, I decided what I needed was a more comfortable bra, you know, so I'd actually put one on. So, in a wine induced semi-coma, I ordered 2 from a site that promoted themselves as "a bra you will live in"! Why would I order 2 of something I didn't know if I even liked yet? Because they gave me a discount, and I love discounts. When they FINALLY arrived I found out that they pull on over your head, a detail I obviously missed during shopping. The idea is they are on the tight side so they will hold you up and in place without underwire, then you swath your torso with lace straps. These straps not only are the part that makes it pretty, but give you added lift. I managed to get the thing over my head and then like an alligator's jaws, my arms were clasped straight up, shut tight to my head. I attempted to pull it, tug at it and wriggle through it without getting far and decided it needed to come off and be examined for a better approach. Round 2, I got it on and I strapped in. Once on, it was comfortable and I did like the result, but taking it off proved harder than putting it on! Add a bottle of wine to the mix (or maybe more, who's counting?) and it's damn near impossible... so I slept in it. Then wore it all the next day... and slept in it again. I can see why they say you will live in it, you literally have to.

The items I was really excited about were comfy lounge pants that again I was duped into buying 2 of, but the patterns were so cute and the model looked so comfy, that I felt I really needed 2 of them. Especially since I was now a prisoner in my new bra; I needed to compensate with super comfy pants. But, the package seemed to never be arriving, only ever "on its way". What did arrive was a package that I opened with complete confusion. Was this a gift from someone? Who is this company? Turns out it was a super cute shirt, actually 2 (obviously suckered into my usual pitfall of multi purchase clicks), a pair of cute pants and a shirt so ugly I don't know how to explain it. Clearly this was not a secret admirer, it was little ol' me...shopping on a heavy wine buzz. I really should download an app that keeps you from shopping while drinking.

Anyway, I tried on the shirts, yes cute, but made of a fabric (rayon?), that makes them clingy and full of static, something my Covid-diet tummy rolls really don't love. Suddenly $15 for the shirt, nay 2 shirts making it $30, seemed like a lot. Next was the pants, a kind of jogger that fit tight across my hips making my ever increasing butt really unattractive. Kinda like the photos of people's dogs in clothing that fit terribly and clearly the dog is uncomfortable and you wonder why someone would do that to this poor animal. Ya, I was the poor animal, trying to waddle across my living-room to the bathroom mirror. And also yes, I change clothes in the living-room right out in the open, lockdown has made me care very little about a lot of things. Oh and another thing, the pants feel like cardboard, didn't know you could make clothing out of cardboard, but congrats company, you did it! And finally the ugly top. When I looked up the site to remind myself why the hell I would have bought this hurt-your-eyes-neon-hot-pink top with missing fabric cutouts, I found a model leaning against a wall wearing a gentle hue of pink colored top that fell off her shoulder in a temping "I remind you of the '80s and we know you love it" kind of way. Ahhhh yes, it's coming back. But that is NOT the color of the shirt I got, their definition of pink and what I got are seriously different. I mean I think aliens will assume I am signalling to them it is that insanely bright. Also, clearly the size 2 model is wearing a size 400 shirt so that it will hang that way on her. I guess you'd say I lost hard on this purchasing roulette.

At long last the happy day, my lounge pants arrived! Yes, they are super comfy, yes I am wearing them all the time, are they well made? NO! Would I like to send them back? If not in a pandemic where I will be living most of my life on my sofa for the foreseeable future, I would, but paying to send them back and, lets face it, the effort it will take, is more than I can handle.

So now that I have a hideous wardrobe, don't be surprised to see me looking like a joke on our next Zoom. Also, from now on, I am sticking to drunk shopping for wine ONLY.

Stay safe and stay off the the click bait... but as always, whatever you do, Wine First!

10 Reasons Why Social Distancing Isn't So Bad

It's May 1st today, I've been in lockdown since March 13th. The world feels completely foreign and strange and I wonder if I will emerge from this a little bit of a mental person. For obvious reasons social distancing is GREAT, but we are all a little stir crazy as the weeks drag on, but lets focus on some positives. Here are 10 unexpected reasons why I'm loving social distancing:

1) You can skip the makeup entirely and wear a face mask and sunglasses to go out!

2) Day drinking is ok.

3) Wearing PJs all day, every day is not only acceptable, but expected.

4) You can finally catch up on all the shows you've missed.
         
5) Extra time spent with your eye-rolling, opinionated, snarky know-it-all teen.

6) Hours and hours of every day spent staring blankly at your spouse.

7) Cooking every meal of every day, over and over and over and over and over again.

8) Day drinking.

9) Day drinking.

10) Day drinking

I hope this finds you safe and healthy with a fully stocked bar.

And remember, no matter what you do in quarantine, Wine First!

Don't Kill The Old People

Well, how's everyone hanging in out there? For me, I've been in quarantine since Mar 13th, when things started to get real here in New Mexico...at least for me. I didn't talk about it because not much was really known at that time and the craziness hadn't struck, but I had been in NYC...at an event with 300+ people...I shook ALL of their hands, even hugged some...even shared glasses with them (a la "here taste mine!"). At that point they had something like 10 cases reported in the city, wow, can you believe it? With numbers they way they are now?

Anyway, I got home from that trip completely beat. I had been in CA for a wine competition and then in TX for another prior to the NYC trip and was going straight there from a conference so it made sense I was tired. I bounced immediately into work though because my calendar was already full of events and meetings. I gave a wine class at the old folks home in Taos, I touched all of the glasses, stood over them while lecturing, hugged excited patrons after the class, things that made sense then, but are alarming now.

After that I had back to back meetings with people to design the summer's activities, however I was slapped in the face somewhat suddenly with total exhaustion. I needed to pull back, I was wearing myself out...or wait, was it??? Another day went by and suddenly I had a sore throat and an ear infection (tell tale signs for hardcore sickness for me). I could feel something was taking me down. My always amazing Doctor started to monitor me with regular check ins, I was told to stay home and report ANY changes. Quickly things had changed and he requested a Covid19 test for me. At this point I was getting scared, I was deeply ill and the idea that I could have this insane virus was giving me PTSD from the time in my life previously where I was told 'you should have a will in place'.

The way the hospital had to handle the possible threat was straight out of the Twilight Zone. They met me at the car in a hazmat suit, taking me to a private area and then not allowing me to leave until several tests were done. All were an invasive shoving of swabs up my nose so far up I thought they were trying to operate on my brain...I might get that surgery I escaped a few years back after all. Then I had to wait...for days for results. During this waiting period is when things got real over here in NM and I started to panic that I may have single-handedly killed the entire population of the old folks home from that class. Here I was trying to give my grandma and her friends something special and fun to experience...and I might off 40 of them...nice move! Schools closed and businesses followed. We scrambled to figure out how to keep money rolling in, customers and employees safe... while absolute awe drifted over us as we watched this strange movie like plot unfold before us.

Thank God, my test came back negative and I just had some weird horrible bug, but it also means I've been in quarantine longer than some of you. I can't say I'm going stir crazy because I live on a gorgeous farm in the countryside...of course it is in the country, where else would it be? I don't know of big farms in the middle of a city, do you? Anything called a "farm" in the city is like a rooftop garden really...I think. OK maybe I am going a little crazy, but anyway, we have plenty of wine and space, really not that bad. 

What has surprised me however, as I try to find projects and distractions, is that I am struck with an emotional slap at the oddest times. Waiting in line at the grocery store, no not to pay like we used to, outside waiting to go in, all of us cloaked in masks, and I suddenly couldn't stop the hot tears from streaming down my face. Or wondering if I should watch another episode of Tiger King even though it's 2:00am, then realizing that it absolutely does not matter because there is nothing to do tomorrow... absolutely nothing...and suddenly my wine holding hand starts to shake with silent sobs. Or taking my clothes off to finally shower and seeing that my already plump body is getting plumper and that I have to put the bag of cookies down in order to actually get IN the shower... a deeply depressing moment. 

I hope you all are weathering the storm alright. I look forward to the time when we can enjoy wine in each other's presence again, probably not going to let people drink out of my glass or excessively hug people anymore and that does make me super sad, but I'll take the win to leave home and see you face to face. After all, I never want to wonder if I just killed all the old people ever again.

* For entertainment during lockdown, please tune in to "A Fern Between Us: Emotional Sanitizer Wine Show" from Vivac Winery's Facebook Live, Thursdays at 5:00pm. It's a little wine tasting, a little Q&A and a whole lot of fun!

Don't forget, no matter how weird this world gets, Wine First!