Saturday, October 18, 2014

the christmas table.



For Mom's birthday, Mother's Day, Christmas, or any other holiday, I always take the metrobus up a few stops to the artesian market. After a little more than a year in Mexico, Mom & Dad's home back in Chicago is slowly becoming more and more influenced by authentic Mexican flair. And you know what? I think we're on to something. This past year, Crate & Barrel featured "A Mexican Christmas" in their catalog, with a dining room table decked out accordingly. I took that magazine clipping to my market and picked out a crimson, otomi table runner that put the one in the picture to shame. Later, I carefully cut red, green, and white papel picado to string above their table where it will catch the afternoon light that streams in. This past week, Mom was here for her birthday and she made the trip with me, picking out six brilliant, hand-painted talavera dishes to set alongside equally vibrant napkins. 

Making your way through the market is no small task. It's a full, square block of stall after stall of local and indigenous vendors eager to invite you in and show off their wares (and of course, give you a better deal than any of the others). So when we finally left, bags in hand, we were exhausted, but feeling accomplished. 
Mom's Christmas table is ready for this year. 

Across the street, the park was buzzing with people crowding in closer to its center. Passing us on the side walk, a man with aged, leathery skin, flipped open a switchblade comb to run through already tidy, slicked back hair. We admired his well shined shoes and neatly pressed trench coat. As we neared the park and its blaring music and cheering crowds, we saw more men dressed like him -- some even with pheasant feathers poking out of their hats. They were gliding across the pavement as they danced, spinning girls around (sometimes two at a time), and always bowing and welcoming the applause at the end of a song. 

We left smiling. It made me love Mexico a little more, grateful for the way it helped me celebrate Mom on her birthday. 

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Happy birthday, Momma. Thanks for letting me share my city with you this week. 















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