fun at the dentist

It started with a little pain in my tooth, but it quickly intensified.  The next morning I knew I had to get into the dentist ASAP.  So, I called some friends here to get recommendations.  My mission is to find whoever can see me the soonest.
I get an appointment with Dr. Patricia, recommended from my friend Ann who has had a cleaning there.  She tells me it's #67 on Canal, I can't miss it.  Sure enough, the 67 on the wall is large, but there is no indication that a dentist is there.  I cautiously go up the stairs and arrive in what appears to be someone's living room.  Lo and behold, a receptionist/ hygenist/ resident? comes out to greet me and tells me it will be a couple of minutes.
Dr. Patricia was nice enough.  She took an xray of my tooth (xrays here are a dime a dozen).  Even though I knew which tooth it was and told her, she insisted on hammering them all with a metal instrument to see which one had the pain.  Then, she did it again.  With all three of my front teeth now throbbing, she told me I need to see another doctor because I had an infection in my gum and I needed an endodoncia (root canal).  The other doctor would not be around until Saturday (it was Wednesday.)  She did tell me that the cost would be 2500 pesos if they could reuse my old crown, 4500 pesos if they needed to make me a new one.  (basically about $200-400).  She also gave me an antibiotic and some pain killers, making the visit well worth my time and 100 pesos.
Not sure if I could wait until Saturday, I find Dr. Herrera, also recommended by Ann.  Her husband Sam had a root canal done by him and was pleased.  Unfortunately, all I could remember was when her son, Redding, had a tooth extracted there with virtually no novacaine.  I hesitatingly make an appointment for the next day, but continue to explore other options as well.  Finally, I get in (same day) to see the adult dentist at the practice where our kids go.  I have really liked their dentist, the office is clean and nice, and I'm thinking this is the way to go.  I cancel Dr. Herrera and go see Dr. Monica.
Dr. Monica also takes an xray and confirms that I need another root canal because I have an infection up in my gum.   She says that she can do it today, but will not have a temporary crown for me until Tuesday. (It's Wednesday still.)  At the moment, the pain was not too intense and I say ok, thinking I can wait until Tuesday instead of spending a week toothless.  (It's my front tooth.)  
That night I couldn't even sleep the pain was so intense.  I got up in the morning and started stalking the dentist to see if I could get in.  She agreed to see me that Friday and made a special trip in from Celaya (about an hour away) to do my root canal.  I arrived promptly at 12 on Friday, trepiditious, but anxious to get this thing taken care of.  I no longer cared whether or not I'd have a tooth for the weekend.


From 12:15 or so until 2:30 I repeatedly thought about all the questions I should have asked before proceeding, all the while she is drilling, jack-hammering, yanking at my old crown.  I became quite fluent at asking for more medicine.   At one point, she reached into what I thought was an antique dentist cabinet there soley for decoration and found another medieval torture device and started  chipping away at who knows what in my mouth.  It's really all a blur by now.  Then, mid-jackhammering, the task lighting went out.  She disappeared for a few minutes and then came back to inform me that we were changing rooms since our light was not working.  So, I got up, helped her carry some tools, (mouth still pryed open with cotton stuck under my lips) and moved to the room across the hall.  The last patient was still there.  I smiled (or tried to at least) and waited for her to vacate the chair.  A few minutes later we were back at it.  Dr. Monica did not speak much english, so she didn't really tell me what was happening as we went.  The questions going through my mind (that I should have asked before we started) were, "have you done this before?", "how long does it take?", "what are the possible outcomes?", "will it hurt?".  These four questions, especially the first one, became a constant loop in my head, at least when I wasn't trying to translate "I have pain", or "I need novacaine" into Spanish.

the cabinet

what are those pointy things on the lazy susan?

After the first hour and a half, she had successfully removed the old crown and the post.  It was a brutal and uncomfortable task, so, trying to lighten the mood a bit I say, "at least the hard part is over."  She replies with a deadpan look on her face, "that was the easy part."  Now I really want to get up and run.  But now, of course, what am I going to do.  I have most of my tooth (and it feels like half my mouth) missing or at least badly chewed up.   I have to ask her what she means by her comment and she explains that now she needs to carefully find the infection and remove/ treat with medicine.  She says something about how she has to be very careful because if she goes too far to either side something will happen.  My Spanish studies have not included dental terms so I was totally lost.  Was I going to lose other teeth if she went to far?  Was it going to hurt really bad if she's not careful?  Could the infection spread if she miss-dug?  My mind was going to all sorts of horrible places while I tried desperately to do some deep breathing relaxation techniques.  Totally worthless.  I tried to focus on the positive - at least the task lighting was working for this part.
Another hour later and she seemed relieved and confident.  She found the infection and treated it, saying, in English, "I saw puss."  ew.  I think I would have preferred that part in Spanish - or maybe they use the same word.    Even better, they had managed to get a temporary cap there at the office for me and insisted that they put it in before I leave.  The other dentist assured me that the pain would subside almost entirely now that the infection had been treated.
By 2:45 I was sitting with Tom eating gorditas at our favorite stand near the kids bus stop.  By 2:50 the temporary cap had fallen out.
So, until Tuesday, I am toothless, but I am also almost totally painless.  The dentist called me later in the evening to make sure I was doing ok.  I didn't even tell her that I lost the cap already.  She was happy to hear that the pain was subsiding.  Otherwise, she then mentioned, I would have had to have oral surgery...

puppy update

5 of the 6, still at the Hensley's house

As a follow up to the "Big Surprise" from March, we've included a puppy picture.  They are super cute and all have been adopted by great families.  Paco & Abril, owners of Pipo (the father), took two, the Hensley's kept one, two other friends each took one, and we now have Taco.  The puppies all still see each other quite a bit.  They have puppy playdates - but we have to promise not to let Paco & Abril's Mexican friends find out - they would never hear the end of it.  (Generally speaking, puppy play dates, dog B&Bs, fancy pet beds, etc. are just not a part of the culture here.)

and...presenting Taco Red MacDonald

Carneval in La Venta - Part 2

Oh man, this blogging can get a bit tedious when you live in a country where it seems every other day some sort of festival occurs...  So I'm way behind, and need to finish the story of our Carneval experience in the dusty little country town called La Venta.  I left off as we were being led into the home of Jesus, one of the guys we befriended after Janan's dad Al and our friend Ann Hillers bought a round of beer for all the men in the beer tent...

So, with typical over-the-top Mexican hospitality, our host Jesus (the one in the white hat above) led us into his rather large yet humble family compound, insisting that we join him for a meal.  Promptly, as tradition dictates, the women of the household, including his mother and a few aunts, got to work setting the table...

...and of course preparing the dinner in the kitchen:

Then, as if we were family or highly distinguished guests, we were served a wonderful, delicious country meal of rice with a tomato broth and pork.  Just what we needed after such a festive afternoon (and many rounds at the beer tent).

No doubt the Mexicans take hospitality very, very seriously, similar to (and perhaps partly derived from) the traditional Arab customs of hospitality, which dictate that the guest be treated, quite literally, as if royalty.  To Americans, unaccustomed to such treatment, it can almost seem to be too much, leaving one slightly embarrassed to receive such generosity...

 

It was a real honor and pleasure, and a tremendous and humbling experience to receive so much from those that have so little.  And it was a true gift to be a part of the joy that they felt in hosting us.  But all too soon it was time to say goodbye, and as darkness set in we wandered back into the streets, following Jesus' advice not to miss the next attraction of the evening:  the local cockfight...

Having been to a cockfight previously in San Miguel, I pretty much knew what to expect, but was completely taken by surprise to be recognized (along with Sam Hillers) upon walking in by "Lulu", our waitress from the last cockfight I'd attended 6 months prior (see "Palenque" blog of October 2010).

So we grabbed some prime seats...

...placed a few bets, and enjoyed the show along with the majority of the men (and a few women and children, too) of the surrounding community.  I even managed to win a few hundred pesos, somehow having a knack to spot the winners...

...and avoid the losers:

If I keep this up, I may have to get a jacket like this guys...

By midnight, it was time to depart - we had taken all we could from this little nothing-of-a-town hidden in a dust bowl of the Bajio.  It was time for us gringos to get some sleep.  

All in all, it was yet another incredible experience down here.  Mexico can't boast of its materialistic riches, but culturally this cup runneth over and over and over...

Fiesta de San Jose

6:00 am, Saturday morning...
KABOOM!!!  I'm rudely torn from a dream, and in a state of semi-consciousness can only think to say  "What the heck was that?!?!?"  KABOOM!!!  Again.  What the...?!?!  Did some giant piece of furniture just get knocked over?  Am I still dreaming?  With fog still clinging to my brain, I pause, confused, expecting to soon hear the screams of women and children.  Silence.  I slowly think that I might have had one or two too many glasses of wine the night before, and now I realize that it was only about four hours earlier that I went to bed, so I am seriously wanting more sleep.  KABOOM!!!  Another earth-shattering blast shakes the entire bed, rattles the windows, and knocks the few remaining cobwebs out of my reeling head.  I'm starting to swear in multiple languages.    Aw... crap!  These explosions are so close, almost exactly overhead, in fact, that this can only be one thing:  the local chapel is celebrating their namesake today, San José.  So, like many fiestas in Mexico, they begin by firing off a series of extremely loud fireworks and Roman candles at dawn in order to ward off any bad spirits.  The explosions are accompanied by a 10-piece "Oompah" band, or Banda.  This is sort of like a mariachi, but it includes a base section (big drum and a tuba), and their music resembles a European polka, and the horns are usually notably out of tune.  KABOOOOM!!!  Ouch.  This could be a long day...

Of course, we've heard this same thing many times while living in San Miguel, but this time it is literally in our backyard, and while I'm trying unsuccessfully to escape the noise beneath five pillows, Janan is now determined to get up and actually see what's happening.  So she pulls herself out of bed and groggily walks through the dark (but loud) street towards the chapel located about 40 yards away.

And from here, Janan takes over the narrative:  

Oddly, as I approach the chapel, no one else seems to be stirring at all. As I round the corner and enter through the large iron gateway, I'm greeted with a cloud of smoke (from the fireworks).  Inside the courtyard are 3 guys shooting them off, the band, and about fifteen or so others milling about.  It seems that the "ward off the dark spirit" committee is mostly the 20-somethings just having a great time.  The older and younger folks of the community were no where to be seen.  I'm sure they'll all be out for the actual party which will happen later today and go on late into the night.  At least now when we hear what sounds to be a massive party at 6am, we can stay in bed and just realize that it doesn't take too many people to make a lot of noise.

By late morning, the band is playing, an occasional firework explodes, and the smell of grilled meat begins to permeate the neighborhood.  We have plans to go for a hike with the kids, so we resolve to come back after putting them to bed.  Which we do, almost precisely 15 hours after the initial kick off or 6 AM fireworks, and the place is hopping, especially when the fireworks get started...

Besides the food, the band, the kids running around playing tag, the star of the night's activities is the lighting of the "castillo" - a "castle" of fireworks constructed by hand and mounted on a two to three story tall steel pole.  These fireworks are lit from below and, sort of like a Rube Goldberg machine, go off in intricately planned succession, causing wheels to spin and spit fire.  Everyone watches with amazement (the thing seems to go on forever...), and some even dive into the action by dancing beneath it amidst a cascade of sparks and fire...

The climax comes when the last and most spectacular part of the castillo is set off:  the last wheel at the top.  When this baby get's going, a torrent of sparks come shooting downward like a waterfall of fire, horrific high-pitch whistling pushes the limits of tolerance, and then the wheel begins spinning ever faster and faster, finally jetting upwards at an amazing speed, shooting out sparks the whole time, until it finally explodes in a big ball of red and blue and white somewhere around 400 feet above the crowd (where the pieces land, who knows...)

The applause breaks out then fades, the kids start playing tag again, the band strikes up another tune, and the fiesta continues late into the night.  We, however, don't stay too late and opt instead to head home to catch some much needed sleep.

Carneval in La Venta - Part 1

Carneval - that's the Latin American name of the pre-lent fiesta on or before "fat Tuesday", otherwise known as Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras, etc...  These very names conjure up images of parades, costumes, and unbridled fun, if not over-the-top bacchanalian riots.  It's no surprise these various traditions exist in Catholic countries, because these events are nothing more and nothing less than last-gasp parties in anticipation of the Church-imposed 40 days of repentance and self-denial prior to Easter.  "Carneval" or "Mardi Gras" traditions vary significantly from region to region (they're not all New Orleans & Rio style), and here in Mexico, they have a notably unique flavor.  I suspected there was going to be some serious fun to be had, but never could have anticipated the adventure to be that resulted from a casual discovery, by our buddy Sam Hillers, when he spied a flier on the wall of his favorite butcher shop advertising a weekend Carneval Feria (fair) and an accompanying bull fight in the little ranch town of La Venta, about 20km north of San Miguel. 

Four young guys just happened to stroll in as they do...  on horseback.

So with absolutely zero prior-knowledge and what can only be described as a thrilling sense of expectation (an almost too-common feature of our experiences in Mexico, as we just knew this was going to be great fun with plenty of surprises), we packed up our kids, Janan's parents (who were in for a visit), and drove out to this dusty little farming town to check it out. 

We arrived, a bit early, on our own (our friends hadn't gotten there yet), parked the car and walked on in amidst the typically curious but certainly non-threatening stares from the locals (they had to have thought we were just lost - what else could explain a grey-haired gringo with his fair-faced wife and kids stumbling upon this tiny town fiesta?).  All the better - we always know we're in the right place (and feel very comfortable) when you get the "stranger" glances.  Here in the Bajio of Mexico, this is not at all threatening, you get it just because they don't recognize you.  After a half hour, despite the fact that our Spanish is only marginally better than their German, we are welcomed as family, literally (as you'll see in Part 2).  THAT is what I love so much about Mexico...

One of the first stops, of course:  the beverage tent.  Al & Carol and Sam wasted no time...

Now, having been to a few "ferias" before, we are not really surprised nor amazed by some of the little details of a Mexican public party that you'd never, ever see up north, such as...

...the bizarre assortment of out-dated and probably dangerous rides for kids - things deemed unsafe in Europe and the states decades ago and thereby exported to Mexico.  And yet, these things are really, really fun for kids.  A favorite that seems to pop up at every fair is the two-story trampoline house, held together by rusting metal parts and chicken wire, which is listing and creaking with the bounce of each child...

Personal injury attorneys only wish we did this up north.  Fortunately for all of us, they don't exist down here.

Alya's having an absolute blast!

And Will too!

This super-sweet man was operating one of the rides, and seemed to be having as much fun as the kids...

A typical aspect of any semi-serious festival here in the Bajio is the seemingly mandatory appearance of the local drum and dance corps.   Decked out in "traditional" outfits, the participants keep up a steady beat and well-choreographed dance in the dry, dusty parade ground (usually a parking lot or plaza near the main church):

This isn't some sort of put-on nor goofy or playful farce, but as far as I can gather, this is a deeply felt, pride-based participation of primarily the youngsters of the community, continuing the timeless dance and rhythmic traditions of these small and ancient villages...

 

Here you have tradition and technology...

... and the future generation.  

These two handsome youth were happy to pose for me.  

This entire event was, if you remember, not a celebration of some local event or Saint or warrior, nor some regional religious festival, but this was "Carneval".  And that means a spontaneous dance party complete with masks and elaborate costumes.  Well, perhaps not completely spontaneous, since the Mariachi band arrived on time and was dressed to the nines (as Mariachis always do).  Regardless, once the music kicked in, the dancing began.  And this was no ordinary public dance...  This is Carneval!!!

I understood the whole Mardi Gras mask and costume thing, but I'd be lying if I said this part of the festivities didn't leave me bit baffled, only because it was so un-New Orleans or Rio style.  Instead, there was a bit more of the day-after-halloween costume store employee party type appearance.  I still don't know what to make of the outfits...

Shreck?  Judging from her hands, I'm guessing she's in her 70's...

And how about this guy?!?  We were all getting a kick out of him scaring the life out of the little kids in the crowd, and the parents enjoyed it too!  After all, in this kind of community, I'm certain everyone but us knew the identity of the man behind the mask, and the kids he was scaring were all nephews and nieces...

I have no idea what the heck is going on here....  Is it Halloween???

Throughout all the excitement of noise, smells, and eye-candy, it some times requires a bit of stepping-back to realize the significance of the fact that this boisterous and joyful gathering is a highly anticipated, once-a-year communal event put on with great effort and expense by a very simple, rural, and somewhat poor community.  But there is absolutely no lack of pride nor of style amongst the members of this community, as you can see...

You may have forgotten by this point (as we certainly did) that one of the key lures enticing us to join in this event 15 miles out of San Miguel was the promise of a bull fight.  In San Miguel, I've enjoyed a number of high-class, state-of-the-art, serious bull fights (that's not a joke).  So the idea of a bullfight in this community of a few hundred people with only one paved road had me curious, to say the least.  And with all the rickety rides, carny games, and sweet treats to keep the kids entertained for a few hours, there was a sufficient window of opportunity to sneak a peak at this rural man-beats-beast contest for an hour or two.  But alas, it was not to be....  Seems the bullfight was cancelled at the last minute for reasons we were never able to translate.  But, as always, the incredible resourcefulness of the Mexican people would prove to overcome this setback....


First....


We got a bull fight after all, thanks to the crazy, dancing "burrachos"....

Perhaps not as grand nor as serious as the real thing, but certainly more amusing!


Secondly...


... after Al and Ann Hillers bought a round of beers for the entire group of men hanging out at the beer tent, soon we found we could no longer pay for the beer - it was suddenly free.  Then, we got an invitation from one of the locals to dine with him and has family before we would venture off to the cock fights.  And there was absolutely no way to refuse his insistent hospitality.

But this is where I must leave off for Part Two of this adventure.  As can only happen in Mexico, just when one mind-numbing experience seems to be coming to a close, the next one is just beginning....