A trip to Morelos

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On Thursday night last week my mother's (host family) brother in-law popped over to the house and invited me to go to Morelos with him and his family. His brother was having a housewarming party on the Sunday, but had invited his family over for the Saturday as well. I was initially a little surprised to be invited, but decided that it would be a brilliant opportunity to meet more locals, to practice Spanish, and to see a little more of Mexico.

Morelos, he told me, is a 3 or 4 hour drive from Tehuacan,  but a very scenic one. Felipe is the brother in-law who invited me to tag along for the weekend, and he described Morelos further (in very simple Spanish) as being quite a tourist spot for Mexicans. He said that it's known as the "primavera eterna" or eternal spring, because the weather is temperate all year round, which means that the whole area is gloriously lush with vegetation. We were to set off at 7am on Saturday morning, and to return at 12pm on the Monday afternoon. I'd never met the family that early before, and wondered how they would be in the morning.

Still struggling with the lack of sleep (I went out with the teachers the night before), Felipe picked me up and took me to his house, where I helped them to pack the car. I say helped rather than hindered, although I suspect it's up for the toss. There are four children, and mum and dad in the family, and they're all very individual and interesting in their own way. I have spent a couple of memorable weekends in their company already, eating food, playing word games in Spanish, and, of course, dancing.

I sat in the car with the family, and discussions broke out throughout the journey about all sorts of things. Despite having only met them a handful of times, we were extremely comfortable in each-other's company, and they were very engraciating when it came to conversation. Mexico is full of mountains and volcanoes, and the drive got more beautiful as time went on. There were frequent pauses in the conversation to explain old legends of mountains, names of mountains and volcanoes, and so on. It's fascinating to hear such stories from people whose ancestors I read about, often losing track of time and forgetting to eat in the process!

Tehuacan is quite arid, and I was surprised at quite how green and lush the scenery became as we neared Morelos. We stopped off for some deliciously sweet rice water the name of which I've forgotten, but it sounds a bit like 'ChapStick', and some traditional Mexican food that's been made here for hundreds of years. Unfortunately, the name of that escapes me too.

We arrived at the family home for the weekend, and I met the family for the first time. David, who's the father, immediately told me that "mi casa es tu casa." Or that his house was my house. This generosity was to set the tone of the weekend. We relaxed and played football, swam in their swimming pool, and chatted in English and Spanish. Emilio, David's son, speaks near-perfect English as his mother is a British lady. We ate a barbecue, drank soda, and went to bed very relaxed.

We went for breakfast at a fairly renowned local market on Saturday morning, and I tried a huitlacoche quesadilla for the first time. I hope it won't be the last! They're black tortillas with corn and cheese, and sometimes meat inside. As you can tell by the name, it's traditional Mexican food, and I'm not surprised it's stood the test of time. I love eating traditional food from all countries, but Mexican food is a little special for me because I've got a huge interest in the history and culture here, so it feels like I'm eating a piece of history every time.

We returned home, and at about 10am, family started to arrive, and by the afternoon there were about 40 or 50 people in the house and garden. It was a little daunting to be presented with so many people to try to speak Spanish with, and I was a tad recitant at first. Not to mention the fact that they were all family, and were catching up with each other. I ploughed into the food until curiosity got the better of people, and conversation began. A few short hours later, we were drinking beer from a keg and having a 3 a side football tournament. As the night wore on the music went up, and the dancing was kicked off (of all people!) By the bumbling ginger man who'd only tried salsa dancing three times before. A pretty 16 year old cousin asked me to dance, "quieres baylar?" and I attempted to look as Latin American as possible, whilst avoiding her toes with my feet. A note on this is required; in Mexico you'll see quite intimate dancing with cousins, mothers and sons, fathers and daughters, brothers and sisters in-law, and so on dancing together. This is how most kids learn salsa, bachatta, or many of the other Latin American styles. A fairly intimate dance (for a British person) is completely innocuous here, and I absolutely love the mentality that surrounds it. Frankly, anything that involves more dancing works for me!

I was complemented on my salsa dancing, and ended up dancing with a couple more people as the night continued. I have gotten the hang of a few steps and a twirl or two, but after watching a few of the couples on the deck, I was perfectly aware of how much of a novice I am! I can't wait to be able to dance like that! Salsa dancing is often accompanied by one of two possible faces; an expression of pure concentration, or of mirth and joy. Concentration, because you're remembering the steps, staying on the beat, and staying in sync with your partner. (Or also trying to answer a question in Spanish while dancing, if you're me) Frankly, I doubt that I need to explain the second expression, because it's a Latin American dance, and I've never met a people whose faces are so ready to wear a sincere and cheesy grin!

The next morning, after the party had wound down and a lot of the families had gone home, we helped clear up, said our goodbyes and made our way home feeling extremely refreshed. I felt a little tired, sunburned, and I had a painful cut on my foot, but I was grinning at having been lucky enough to be invited to join in on the weekend.

Teaching on Monday was not easy, but coffee was my best friend.

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