The mighty bull ejects its rider, but not without a struggle.

Intermittent hoots from the ladies as the master of ceremonies salutes the fathers in attendance is all that really sets this day at the rodeo apart from any given Sunday. Nevertheless, you can catch the gleam in the eye of each proud father as he tosses his chaps-clad toddler into the air. And the young girls look especially sweet in their brightly-coloured cowgirl getups.

The galloping horse gets away.

Sunday rodeos or charreadas are a proud tradition in Mexico City and across many states, notably Chihuahua, Jalisco and Hidalgo. It’s a family affair that begins around noon and winds through the day at a relatively leisurely pace. Limits and rules are in place now to protect animals, cowboys and cowgirls, but one veteran, who launched his career at age 12 and is well into his 70s, displayed a missing forefinger and several other crooked fingers on his right-hand, all broken at one time or another by the sharp whip of the lasso. While a dangerous undertaking, it is part of the fabric of Mexico’s history and creates a certain blast-from-the-past atmosphere for the newbies in the crowd.

Once the cowboys, who come to compete from various ranchos, have finished the riding of the bulls, their lassoing exercises and the death-defying bare-back transfer from one horse to another (el Paso de la Muerte), the ladies take over the centre of the arena and perform a sidesaddle dance with their steeds.

The horses dance gracefully in a blur of frilly green skirts worn by the female riders known as Escaramusas.

This four-legged dance is followed by a much-deserved rest for the animals and the presentation of a typical couple’s dance called the Jarabe Tapatio. This dance dates back to 1870 when it originated in the State of Jalisco (yes, the famous home state of the blue agave plant and tequila) whose inhabitants are known as Tapatios. The word jarabe means syrup and is used to describe this regional dance that evolved from a mix of various community-based dance styles.

Next up is a sexy singer who trades sombreros for kisses and a quick dance with her admiring fans (provided their wives approve, she says). She then leads the raffle of cowboy belts and tequila, which of course descends into more kissing. And finally the closing dinner reception begins in a hall tucked away from the dusty rink.

The dance of the Jarabe Tapatio

The Sunday rodeo is one of a dwindling selection of traditions that still draw in young boys and girls who want to follow in their parents’ stirrups. Our veteran friend, whose fingers fell victim to the lasso, proudly boasts that his father was one of the great charros, a mujeriego who featured in films with Pedro Infante himself. Alas, that is a story for another blog.

According to online sources, Mother’s Day can be traced back, perhaps at a bit of a stretch, to Ancient Greece when special ceremonies were used to honour Rea, the mother of Zeus, Poseidon and Hades. Much later, in 1854, the Catholic Church began celebrating the Virgin Mary with the declaration of the Day of Immaculate Conception on Dec. 8.

While in Canada and the US Mother’s Day moves around, always falling on the second Sunday in May, Mexico is in good company in marking the day on May 10, along with El Salvador, Guatemala, Malaysia, India, Singapore and the UAE.

Party favors

In Mexico, every day is quite literally a reason for a party. Each day of the calendar year boasts its own special saint and anyone can choose to celebrate it – be it your saint day, your birthday or just an excuse to let off steam. There may well be praying, and there will most definitely be feasting, dancing and general merriment. It could go on into the early morning hours or endure throughout the next day and the day after that. Perhaps Mexico is truly the spiritual home of the three-day weekend.

Mexicans, fortunately, are long past seeking excuses for making the most of a special day. Bring on the truckloads of good food and drink mixed with a live band, a DJ, mariachis and a crowd with itchy feet. So why should baptisms be any exception? What greater reason for a celebration than the blessing of a perfect, tiny baby.

Thankfully, in Mexico, the departure from the party of the guest of honour is no cause for a cessation of festivities. The little bundle is simply snuggled into a safe spot in the house under the watchful eye of great-grandma while mom, dad, grandma, grandpa, an armful of tíos, a few pre-school cousins and a good portion of the town’s citizenry head out under the big white tent blocking the entire street to shake a little on the dance floor.

At the church with godmother, mom, the priest and dad

A baptism is a big, beautiful affair for most families in Mexico. A special mass is held at the nearby Catholic Church and everyone dresses the part – the enormous, long, white gown is a must for little girls while the boys don baby’s first formal suit complete with a white bonnet. Godparents take their place in the front row of the congregation and, after the ceremony ends and everyone heads outside, they launch handfuls of money or sweets into the air and watch while adults and children alike lunge for the offerings.

No time or music to waste

Moving to the tent or hall near the church or family home, the real celebration begins amongst blue or pink balloons, specially-designed sweets, and creative crafts often made by hand by the Godparents and which will serve as souvenirs for the guests. In one recent baptism, a giant trampoline out back kept kids of all ages distracted while the adults got down to serious dining. The family and closest friends of the parents rush between chairs and tables to ensure no guest wants for anything. Then, the tables are removed, the music is turned up to just short of deafening and the true celebration begins. What better start to a young life. And this really is only the beginning.

A Mexican-style sweets shop in Chapultepec

Sugary sweets and savory snacks are often the final frontier in settling in a new country. After all, we call it “home sweet home” for a reason. So what are the sweets one would want to add to one’s list of comfort foods in order to better integrate into Mexican life? What local fare promises to replace your suitcase full of Cadbury chocolates, Smarties and Nibs licorice?

Turn your taste buds to alegrías, glorias, ate, cocadas and pepitorias. These sweetened treats are the traditional goodies given to Mexican kids on Easter and other holidays, though bunnies and chocolate eggs are rapidly edging in on the traditional market.

Alegría bars flanked by packaged nuts and other sweets

Alegrías consist largely of amaranth, a nutritional cereal whose seed was a staple in the pre-hispanic diet. Many believe the cultivation of amaranth was all but eradicated by the Spanish in some parts of Mexico during and after the Conquest as its popular use in Mayan and Aztec rituals was considered a threat to the Catholic Church. An international NGO active in the state of Oaxaca, called Puente a la Salud Comunitaria (meaning “bridge to community health”), has been working for several years to restore amaranth cultivation and the recognition of its nutritional value in remote mountain villages. Honey, sugar and water are used to shape the seeds into squares and cookies, and dried fruits are often added for greater flavour.

Pepitorias fixed in place by clothespins

Glorias, a more recent addition to the sweet shop dating back to the 1930s, are said to be from a town called Linares in the south of the state of Nuevo Leon. They are made from burnt goat’s milk, sugar, vanilla, corn syrup, chopped nuts and baking soda. The origins of the name are not clear, but some say it is because you feel pure “glory” eating these little treats. Easy enough to find, they are now sold in red plastic wrappers almost everywhere.

Triangular slices of ruby-coloured ate

Ate, from the state of Michoacán, consists of the pulp of cooked fruit, which is then placed over open flame in copper dippers until it becomes transparent and is formed into various shapes.

Cocadas are made from coconut, egg yolk, milk and sugar, and formed into round little cakes often orange or yellow in colour due to the yolks.

Bright orange and yellow cocadas on display

Lastly, pepitorias are the colourful paper-like crepes hanging from stalls everywhere. Besides being an excellent, light-weight decoration, they are also a popular snack at birthday parties and on holidays. Each state seems to have a different preparation style, but essentially the pepitoria consists of brightly coloured wafers, peeled pumpkin seeds, peanuts, water, sugar and corn syrup.

¡Buen provecho!

Representation of Christ leaves the Church of Carmen

A remarkable, silent tribute to Christ has marked its sixtieth anniversary as an annual event in the city of San Luis Potosí in central Mexico. Since 1954, hundreds of Potosinos have put on satin robes and cone-shaped masks each year to congregate at the Church of Carmen in a march of mourning for the death of Christ on Good Friday. Arguably the largest religious ceremony in Mexico during Easter holy week, or Semana Santa, the procession is also the largest outside of Sevilla, Spain, where the tradition began.

Boasting more than 40 Catholic churches, the city is home to some of the country’s most devout residents. From 1926 to 1929, Potosinos were among those who joined an uprising against the federal government, known as the Cristero War, in protest of the government’s move to limit the influence of the Catholic Church in Mexico.

The illuminated Cathedral stands witness to the march

It is said that the churches of San Luis Potosí are connected by underground tunnels dating back to the war, or La Cristiada as it is known, of the 1920s. Though they would by now have fallen into disuse, the legends say the tunnels were used to hide and transfer the church’s wealth during the war.

To reach the start and end of the march at the Church of Carmen, you must wind your way through the city’s beautiful, colonial streets as dusk falls. On foot, as no traffic moves through the old town once the procession begins, you pass by numerous churches, the Cathedral, restaurants and shops before arriving at what first appears to be a fairground. You encounter an odd mix of new and old, modern food stalls and men dressed as Roman guards, as well as a helicopter-style media camera hovering over the cloaked protagonists of the march.

For participants and spectators alike, the march is a moment of reflection, a renewal of faith and an annual beginning. Young children play an important role in the ceremony and are schooled in both the history and religious significance of the march. Amidst the crowds that line the streets of the beautiful city centre, you feel as though the entire city of 2.5 million is present. Passersby greet friends, relatives and acquaintances along the route and the resulting sense of community is perhaps the march’s most enduring aspect.

A young girl pauses on cue, matching the pace of the march

Masked dolls of the "brotherhood" now offered for sale

A flyer descending with grace

Born of desperation in a time of great drought, the flight of the men from Papantla, Veracruz, the Voladores de Papantla, was a call to the god of fertility for help. This beautiful practice is centuries old, but today you can find it brought to life in the heart of Mexico City at Chapultepec Park. The dance of the flyers of Papantla draws the largest crowds on the weekend and is performed nearly on the doorstep of the Anthropology Museum, a short walk away from the busy grounds of Chapultepec Castle. It is the perfect stop on route to the Castle or the city’s historic centre.

If watching this physical feat performed live stirs an appetite, don’t miss the terrace restaurant at the nearby Tamayo Museum where you can enjoy excellent soups and salads with a view out over the park. This eatery is perfectly situated halfway between the flyers and the Castle.

For a far better description of the flyers and their fascinating history, have a read of the following article borrowed from the website www.voladoresdepapantla.com:

Ask anyone who’s been to Papantla what most impressed them, and they’ll probably say, “The Voladores.” Many people who’ve never been to the Gulf Coast — or even to Mexico – will light up in recognition at the mention of the Voladores. They perform regularly throughout Mexico, Central and South America. They’ve performed in several cities in the United States, and even in Paris and Madrid. So, who are the Voladores, and why are they famous?

Volador means flyer – he who flies. It is breathtaking to watch the spectacle of four men gracefully “flying” upside down from a 75 foot pole secured only by a rope tied around their waists.

Even more amazing is the musician, called the caporal. Balanced on a narrow wooden platform without a rope or safety net, the caporal plays a drum and flute and invokes an ancient spiritual offering in the form of a spectacular dance.

As he turns to face the four cardinal directions, he will bend his head back to his feet, balance on one foot then lean precariously forward, and perform intricate footwork, all the time playing the flute and drum! No matter how many times you see this beautiful performance, it will continue to astonish you, and the plaintive tune of the flute and drum will remain with you long after you have returned home.

The early history of the ceremonial flight of the Voladores is shrouded in the mists of antiquity. Information about the original ritual was partially lost when the invading conquerors from Spain destroyed so many of the documents and codices of the indigenous cultures. Fortunately, enough survived through legend and oral history and in materials written by early visitors to New Spain, that anthropologists and historians have been able to document at least part of the story of this ancient religious practice and how it has evolved through time.

A Totonaca myth tells of a time when there was a great drought, and food and water grew scarce throughout the land. Five young men decided that they must send a message to Xipe Totec, God of fertility so that the rains would return and nurture the soil, and their crops would again flourish. So they went into the forest and searched for the tallest, straightest tree they could find.

When they came upon the perfect tree, they stayed with it overnight, fasting and praying for the tree’s spirit to help them in their quest. The next day they blessed the tree, then felled it and carried it back to their village, never allowing it to touch the ground. Only when they decided upon the perfect location for their ritual, did they set the tree down.

The men stripped the tree of its leaves and branches, dug a hole to stand it upright, then blessed the site with ritual offerings. The men adorned their bodies with feathers so that they would appear like birds to Xipe Totec, in hope of attracting the god’s attention to their important request. With vines wrapped around their waists, they secured themselves to the pole and made their plea through their flight and the haunting sound of the flute and drum.

In Mesoamerican times the ritual of the Volador was performed throughout much of Mexico and extended as far south as Nicaragua. It was performed once every 52 years at the change of the century, and the brotherhood of the Voladores was passed from father to son.

At the time of the Conquest, the church fought strongly against what it considered heathen practices, and indigenous worship and rituals were silenced or held in secret. Later, the Catholic Church combined native beliefs with religious dogma, creating a syncretization of faith. The flight of the Volador was considered an interesting game by Colonial New Spain, and special plazas were constructed where the Voladores performed for a curious public. Over time the ritual slowly died out, until finally the Totonaca and a few Otomi were the only groups performing this ancient practice.

Today, the Totonaca people perform the flight of the Voladores for several reasons. First, it keeps a part of their traditional culture alive for everyone to see. Second, it provides additional income for the Voladores and their families. Non-Totonacas are asked to make a donation after each flight is completed, as well as for traditional dances which are frequently performed on weekends and evenings in the town plazas or in front of cafes. And last, it provides a sense of group pride. Like other folkloric dances and music from around the world, it’s a way to celebrate heritage and diversity.

The Voladores are a source of great pride to everyone in Totonocapan – the region of the Totonaca. In Papantla, the hub of the vanilla industry, there is even a large stone Volador that looks down on the city from one of the highest points in town. The Volador is a moving testimony to the Totonaca ancestors who founded Papantla in the 1200s, as well as to those who continue to maintain the rich cultural legacy in this region of México.

Lakeside Produce's freshest

Snowy Canada. Sunny Mexico. Or so the stereotypes go, especially with the type of winter that Canada has just endured. What do these two distinctly beautiful countries have in common? More than one might think, actually.

What are the top two products that Mexico sends to Canada? Cars and machinery. And Canada to Mexico? Cars and machinery.

Mexico and Canada make things together. That is almost as well-recognized now in both countries as the seven-dot logo of Blackberry. In fact, throughout Blackberry’s heady years of global success, the Canadian manufacturer came to make sixty percent of its handsets in Mexico. Another Canadian business icon, Bombardier, is planning to soon build complete Learjets in Mexico’s new manufacturing heartland of Querétaro State, capitalizing on the success it has seen in the supply of parts.

Still, when visiting Anthony Cervini’s distribution centre for tomatoes, cucumbers and sweet peppers in southern Ontario’s greenhouse capital, Leamington, you expect only to see the best of Canadian produce.

Straight from Navojoa, Sonora

What you might not anticipate finding are the green and yellow boxes of juicy red tomatoes fresh from the sun-filled Mexican fields of Navojoa, Sonora. With snow still falling outside on Leamington’s streets, though, this starts to make sense.

Our climates, like our trade profiles, are highly complementary.

Anthony, aiming to ensure his Canadian produce operation is active all year round, brings in regular shipments of Mexico´s finest during his own farm’s slowest months. It’s a win-win, and it extends the months during which he can invite up Mexican workers under the Canada-Mexico Seasonal Agricultural Workers Program. Limited to eight months of work each per year in staggered contracts, Anthony brings in Mexican workers in greater numbers to ensure coverage nearly all year long.

Anthony will tell you his farm would close tomorrow if not for the Mexicans and Jamaicans that return every season to work side by side with Canadians in his greenhouses and packing centre. For every Mexican worker that spends a season in Canada, he says at least two additional jobs are created for local Canadians.

José, from Mexico, working hard

While he has handed on the reins of his produce farm to his son, he still regularly pops in to check out the new strains of tomatoes his team is developing, like the sweet-tasting, strawberry-shaped cherry tomatoes that have become a favourite or new brown and yellow varieties. Each time he arrives at the greenhouse, he passes by the little white bungalow to which his parents brought him as a newborn from the hospital many years ago. That typical Leamington casita is now a second home for workers that return to his farm each year.

So you say tomato, I say jitomate. We say potato and some say patata. But somehow it all just works.

Photo taken from Facebook/theredtreehouse

A friend visiting Mexico City from London, England, this week has been raving about The Red Tree House in La Condesa, Mexico City, not only for its exquisite interior design, fair prices and great location, but because of the fascinating fellow travellers she meets over the B&B’s delicious breakfasts.

More and more, people are looking for a unique experience rather than a postcard holiday. Perhaps we spend enough time in our hyper-electronic worlds at home, pretending we are islands that just happen to be stacked one on top of the other in the latest condo development, that we actually want to connect with humans when we go abroad. We finally have the time for a conversation that broadens our perspective and transports us to our holiday destination mentally as well as physically.

It seems that a number of us look for our sense of community on vacation at least as much or more so than during the 40-plus weeks each year that we spend at home. The owners of The Red Tree House have captured that quest to be part of a community of travellers and created just that opportunity in one of Mexico City’s most popular neighborhoods. Go to their webpage and you’ll learn: “Guests of the Red Tree House are generally people who appreciate the beauty of Mexican culture, food, and history and want to engage rather than observe from a distance. Some are budget travelers while others are able to stay anywhere but choose The Red Tree House for its great neighborhood, friendly staff, and the opportunity to meet a diverse group of interesting travellers from all parts of the world.”

So how did this lovely B&B get its unique name? By way of the community of which it is an integral part 365 days a year, of course. Go to www.theredtreehouse.com and find out more. The answer may surprise you. It did me.

P.S. Check out the jacarandas on their Facebook banner – gorgeous! https://www.facebook.com/theredtreehouse.

Even the donkeys admire the bugambilia in Tepoztlan, Morelos

Spring in Mexico presents a charming surprise for the tree-illiterate among us. For most of the year we walk by these sturdy, green-leaved hulks lining our path without casting them the second glance they will soon deserve.

Then, suddenly, from amongst the green masses, small but colourful and mighty beauties start to catch our eye. Previously dreary sidewalks and streets begin to boast batches of the violet Jacaranda flower or reveal a hidden fuchsia Bougainvillea vine (known as bugambilia in Mexico).

Happily, that season has returned yet again to Mexico, lining urban and rural routes alike with outstanding colour. They remind us that as soon as we become bored or complacent, some wonderful change will arrive to awaken our senses once again.

Many jacarandas flower in autumn as well, but often times the blossoms are less spectacular in the fall. Easter, called Holy Week or Semana Santa in Mexico, is arguably the best time of year to take in their belleza. As the petals begin to fall to the ground, their glorious violet colour will line your path. Thank you General Lázaro Cárdenas for filling the parks and streets of Mexico City with these gorgeous Jacaranda trees during your tenure as Presidente de la Republica (1934-1940)!

Jacaranda trees transform one's walk to and from work

Flags flying over Trevor Falk's vineyard

Trevor says that the niche wine industry in Niagara might not exist without the annual help of Mexican seasonal agricultural workers. This, despite hiring all the Canadians he can find. He continues to bring in more Mexican workers as he expands his 450-acre farm. In 2013, his vineyard produced record amounts of both grapes and icewine, up to three times their usual annual output, but in 2014 the harsh winter will bring a shortfall.

Trevor encourages his team bundle up for the cold

Both Trevor of Niagara-on-the-Lake and Betty-Anne Gifford of Brougham near Toronto say the Mexicans are part of their extended family. Betty-Anne’s family has been bringing Mexican workers to their nursery since the late 1970s and have grown their operations to ten farms with 1,500 acres. The passing of the head of her family and a big part of the heart of the operation, her father, earlier this year came as a loss to both her and the workers. “He was a great man,” said one Mexican farmer sadly as he learned of his death after being picked up at Toronto Pearson International Airport by Betty-Anne.

Betty-Anne greets her crew at the airport

With many originating from rural farms themselves, the Mexicans understand their Canadian employers despite the language barrier. No strangers to hard work, they labour shoulder-to-shoulder with the Canadian owners of the farms. Rather than protest long hours during high season, the workers complain if they do not receive regular shifts of ten hours or more, and they want to continue working in minus 25 degree Celsius weather. But Trevor says he cannot let the workers continue in the fields when he and his Canadian team won’t brave the cold. Fortunately, those kinds of temperatures are unusual and within a day or two they are all back among the grapevines.

After several years working in the program in which the average number of years is eight and several workers count more than thirty years under their belt, the majority of workers know their rights well. While the Mexican and Canadian governments provide annual paperwork to each worker that details updates to the program, officials know that the most effective information exchange comes via word-of-mouth amongst the Mexicans themselves. The workers do not miss their regular breaks in the mornings and afternoons nor their lunch time when they can often return to their apartments for warmth or cooling off, depending on the season, and a chance to cook up their favourite Mexican dishes.

Truly a win-win venture, the program needs to be safeguarded. Betty-Anne and Trevor are the first to talk to local farmers from their area if rumours emerge of below-average housing or treatment. The farms and housing are inspected annually by government officials and often visited by the Mexican consulate, and complaints are followed up with farms being cut from the program if a standard is not maintained.

While it is relatively rare to find abuses in Ontario where the farmers’ association (Foreign Agricultural Resource Management Service or F.A.R.M.S.) has a stake in weeding out bad apples, workers need to know their rights and action must be taken in a timely fashion. One can find both above and below average employers in any industry, and the Seasonal Agricultural Workers Program (SAWP) offers an enviable model for protecting both workers and farmers. All seem to agree, as the SAWP celebrates its 40th anniversary in 2014, that it is a program worthy of refinement, expansion and replication.