Moving in the fresa circles

CBC Online published one of my pieces for its expat files. My essay takes an amusing look at Guadalajara's snobs - commonly known as fresas (strawberries in Spanish). I'm probably a little too naco (tacky) for these people

Cockfighting is a bloodthirsty but lucrative business in Mexico

Story by : David Agren

A conservatively dressed gallero (rooster owner), wearing clean Levi's, a white collared shirt and white tennis shoes carried one of his prized fighting birds into the round ring. He caressed the rooster as he waited, even kissing it gently on the head. An official then tied a curved razorblade to the rooster's foot with red string, identifying the bird by colour -- like a boxer. Once fastened, the referee squeezed a lemon over the glistening blade, ensuring any foreign substances were cleaned away. Finally, the gallero unleashed his rooster into a fight for its life.

The rooster in the green corner pounced first, however, mortally slashing its opponent's leg. Less than a minute later, the white-necked rooster from the red corner lay dying in the ring. With the rooster unable to stand, the referee declared the fight over the moment battered bird's head touched the dirt floor. A boy, probably no older than ten, scooped up the carcass, carrying it from the ring upside down. A caretaker later swept up the feathers and blood-soaked dirt.

The scene played out 14 times that night at the palenque de gallos (cockfighting ring), a stuffy building on the fairgrounds in Tlaquepaque. The cockfights usually go before some sort of entertainment. In Tlaquepaque, it preceded a nine-piece mariachi band dressed in garish avocado green costumes. Besides Mexico, which usually only sanctions the events during large fairs, Louisiana and New Mexico remain the only jurisdictions in North America where cockfighting is legal.

"This is a very cool pastime," said Jose Vila Lorente, a stockbroker from neighbouring Guadalajara, who brought business associates visiting from Mexico City to the palenque.

Tough might better describe the event and the atmosphere, attended mostly by beer-swilling men wearing cowboy hats, who wagered large sums of money. The high rollers all sat ringside -- drinking imported liquor and flashing high-denomination bank notes - placing bets with corredores (bookmakers). The minimum bet: 1,500 pesos. Less-affluent fans sat on narrow seats further up from the ring, making side bets among themselves. A Pepsi vendor flashed a 200-peso note, but found few takers in our direction.

"People with money come here," said Jesus Grimaldo, a security guard who attends the cockfights when visiting from California. "I only come to watch."

But even he couldn't resist betting on No. 4 during the inter-match roulette.

"Sometimes I win," he said, making an excuse for his repeated bad luck.

Vila, on the hand, came to bet big, pooling his wagers with a buddy. He kept picking red, but for reasons he couldn't fully explain. He offered some tips though on what type of rooster to bet on.

"When you look, the legs are the first place," he said, pointing at a rooster on a leash, being led around the ring by its handler. "Look at the legs, if they're tall, that's an advantage."

Another advantage is a muscular appearance (he didn't explain how he ascertains that).

"If there's a lot of fat, then no."

Galleros raise hundreds of roosters, training each one like a prizefighter. A good rooster can sell for hundreds of dollars -- only to be reduced to a heap of feathers in mere seconds by an equally vicious opponent.

"A rooster is like an athlete ... (like) a boxer," said Jose Arceo, a cab driver who occasionally attends the cockfights. According to Arceo, the roosters "exercise," working out under the gallero's watchful eye.

Galleros also develop a reputation. The event program in Tlaquepaque listed four galleros who entered their roosters in the high-stakes showdowns. At the larger fairs, they compete for 100,000-peso jackpots.

Although not a popular diversion for urban Mexicans, cockfighting still permeates the culture. Taking a cue from the roosters, many tough guys dub themselves "gallo." Basically, guys who have huevos (literally translated: eggs, but colloquial for testicles).

"It's really macho," Grimaldo explained. "(Those guys) fight easy. If someone doesn't respect them: (the gallos) fight them."

As the night wore on, the roulette wheel never stopped on No. 4.

"I lost 650 pesos," Grimaldo complained. "Sixty-five dollars is too much for me."

The last match lasted less than five seconds with one rooster slashing its opponent's throat. When the losing gallero casually dangled his dying bird upside down, blood rapidly gushed out.

After pocketing several large bets (his share of the winning wagers) Vila surprisingly acknowledged, "For me, (cockfighting) is cruel.

"But in Canada, [they] kill seals."

A version of this ran in the Ottawa Citizen.

Villagers unruffled by volcano's discharges

The nearby Volcan de Fuego, which is threatening to erupt at any moment, hardly scares Maximi Ramirez, a lifelong resident of La Yerbabuena, Colima, a rustic pueblo just eight kilometers from the fire-spewing peak. But the rumored intentions of the state government to relocate the local population worry him a lot more than the prospect of being swept away by a fast flowing stream of molten lava.

"(The fear) isn't so much of the volcano," the father of six explained in his small open-air convenience store, on a calm evening, cooled by a gentle breeze and the elevation. "It's the economic interests that want to take our land."

Despite frequent small eruptions over the past six years and living so close to the volcano, Ramirez and the hamlet's other residents refuse to leave. Small farmers, growing beans, corn and coffee in the regions rich volcanic soil, expressed similar sentiments, never fully abandoning their small farms, despite repeated evacuation orders. A steady stream of curious tourists, armed with cameras and binoculars, have also ventured up the region's narrow twisting roads, which often lack shoulders, guardrails and proper pavement, to view the volcano's intermittent bursts.

The Colima Volcano ranks as one of the ten most active volcanoes in the world. It has had six major eruptions since the Spanish settled in the area in the 1500s. Located in an active seismic zone, a large earthquake rocked the state capital in 2003, claiming more than 20 lives, and a tsunami washed over Cuyutlan in 1932. The last big eruption occurred in 1913.

The most recent volcanic activity began on May 23, with the largest eruption in more than 20 years. The 12,533-foot volcano blew its top again on May 30 and last Sunday morning as well, producing a "spectacle" that many curious locals crawled out of bed to witness.
"It woke me up, but I wasn't scared," said Vicente Guzman Cueves, a La Yerbabuena resident sporting long hair, a mustache and gotee and wearing green and blue robes like Jesus Christ -- who Guzman said sent him to the mountain town. "I was curious."

"It's something normal," said Antonio Alonzo Oseguela, the hamlet's representative in the regional government based in Comala. He added that most of the 38 inhabitants are "accustomed" to the loud bursts.

The blasts, though, frightened at least one soldier stationed in the town in case of an emergency. He acknowledged the fear, but said little else during a break from an informal soccer game between teams of competing soldiers on a basketball court, citing Mexican military rules, which forbid members to speak with the media.

During a previous eruption in 2002, the military fled La Yerbabuena, leaving without any members of the civilian population except a local man who transported a group of soldiers out of the volcano zone in a pickup truck. The soldiers later returned, a move that angered many in hamlet.

"There's no reason for (the soldiers) to be here," Alonzo Oseguela said, citing article 729 of the Mexican constitution, which says soldiers are to remain in their barracks during peacetime.

"We're struggling now because they're occupying a community place," he said in reference to the community hall, which the military uses as a temporary headquarters.

Along with wanting the military out, Alonzo Oseguela said, "We're struggling to survive," a reference to suspicions the state government has ulterior motives for the community and surrounding countryside once La Yerbabuena's residents leave.

Ecotourism is gaining popularity in Colima and many tourists visit the area for daytrips and camping excursions. A former hacienda and coffee plantation in nearby San Antonio is now a five-star Aman resort, charging its guests room rates of more than 1,000 dollars per night. Alonzo Oseguela also suggested the town could become part of the nearby volcano research center.

Back down the narrow, bumpy road connecting La Yerbabuena with San Antonio, the operators of a RV park and private fishing hole said it was business as usual, despite the volcanic activity. The owner of a small convenience store on the road up to the volcano from Colima reported a surge in sales after the latest small eruption.

Meanwhile, across the border in Jalisco, Civil Protection authorities evacuated 48 people from Juan Barragan, an ejido just 7.8 kilometers from the volcano, on Monday morning, housing the displaced residents at a temporary shelter in nearby San Marcos.
Still, most of the residents returned to their farms during the day to feed their animals and sow corn before the rainy season commenced. When the military served lunch last Wednesday, consisting of beef stew, rice, beans and agua fresca, only children -- taking a break from a nearby tent-school -- and several elderly women attended.

Over the meal, several women reminisced about previous volcanic activity, but no one expressed any trepidation about returning.

"Some people live by the beach," said Maria Vega, who has been evacuated six times since 1998, in a reference to the recent tsunami in Southeast Asia. "It's the same danger. We're accustomed to it."

Published in the Guadalajara Colony Reporter.

A tough day at the bullfights in San Miguel de Allende

Novillero (novice bullfighter) Juanito Chavez shows off the ear of a bull he killed at the Plaza de Toros in San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato. As for the blood on his torero suit, the bull gored him. But being ever the bold teenager, Chavez continued and eventually won.

While an enjoyable pastime - made even more enjoyable by 15-peso Coronas - the event was rather bloody and cruel. The final bull that afternoon was hacked to death with a small knife, much to the outrage of the mostly foreign audience.

Chavez didn't receive an ear after that fight.

Rebelde with a cause - Rebelde en Canada

Hot Mexican TV soap opera becomes an ad for Alberta tourism

By David Agren

When Lorena Rochin, a university student in Guadalajara, Mexico, flipped on her television set recently to watch her favourite telenovela (soap opera), images of the snow-capped Canadian Rockies flashed across the screen.

"It's gorgeous," she says of the Lake Louise scenery, used as a backdrop for a clandestine make-out scene.

Through a partnership deal with the Canadian Tourism Commission, the hit teen telenovela Rebelde (Rebel in English) filmed episodes in Calgary and the Canadian Rockies in early March, which aired in Mexico in late April.

The show is so popular, even guys are into it, says Rochin. "(At least) 80 per cent of my friends watch it."

The show's success and audience demographics captured the attention of the Canadian Tourism Commission, which saw it as a vehicle to launch Canada's immense popularity to even greater heights in Mexico.

"Rebelde has a very nice peculiarity… middle classes are watching, also (upper-class) Mexicans, including parents," says Jorge Morfin Stoopen, Mexican director for the Canadian Tourism Commission, who is based in Mexico City.

More than 10 million Mexicans watch the show weekly and it's aired throughout Latin America. "This is exactly the target we are looking for," says Morfin Stoopen.

More than 173,000 Mexicans visited Canada in 2004, making it the nation's sixth largest source of tourists. "In 2004 we increased our number of Mexican travellers to Canada by 22 per cent," says Morfin Stoopen. "For Canada, Mexico is a very important market."

In the Canadian-made episodes, Rebelde actors frolicked in powdery snow, skied in the Rockies and rode on dogsleds. Along with capturing Alberta landmarks like the Banff Springs Hotel, Lake Louise and downtown Calgary in Rebelde episodes, cast members posed for Maxim-style photo shoots – complete with bikinis and fur coats – and filmed a music video.

Some of the cast members recently formed a pop group called RBD, whose sappy hits top the Mexican pop charts. In Alberta, the RBD members donned western duds for their videos: jeans and leather trench coats for the guys and a pink cowboy hat for the female lead singer. The show's theme song is incessantly played on the radio and in clubs in Mexico.

Set in an exclusive private school, the show captures the melodramatic antics of teenagers often locked in class-driven feuds and delivers a heaping dose of eye candy in nearly every scene.

Take, for example, Diego, a baby-faced kid whose dad thought his son was gay.

"He's super hot," gushes Rochin, adding she would watch the show less often if Diego weren’t a cast member. In a typical telenovela twist, the father set his son up with his trophy girlfriend – who, says Rochin, "looked like a slut" – to ensure Diego wasn't gay. Predictably, the pair fell for each other, creating a rather bizarre love triangle.

Rebelde also exposes class schisms in Mexican society, pitting the fresas – snobs from rich families – against the becados (scholarship winners). Never mind the nacos, the newly rich who try too hard to fit in with the old-money set and come across as gauche in the process.

Rebelde naturally draws comparisons to popular teen series like Beverly Hills 90210, Dawson's Creek and The OC, but surpasses them all in sheer tackiness. Only in a telenovela would the school uniforms consist of short denim skirts, super high boots, white- or blue-collared shirts, red neckties and jackets for the girls. The guys' uniforms, which feature a similar necktie and jacket combination, are somewhat bland in comparison. Even the heartthrob teacher resembles a rebel, with his long hair and casual work attire.

Besides the racy plot lines, the show sets trends for young Mexicans. Shortly after premièring last fall, guys began wearing red ties similar to the show's school uniforms. Girls put star stickers on their foreheads, mimicking Mia, Rebelde's lead fresa. Both genders began sporting yellow Lance Armstrong Livestrong bracelets after some characters on the show donned the bands.

Canadian Tourism Commission officials expect to capitalize on the show's incredible trend-setting ability, increasing Canada's lustre among young Mexicans, who already possess positive attitudes towards the country.

In a recently published magazine profile, Diego – played by Christopher Uckermann – called Calgary his favourite city. After reading the piece, Rochin says, "It's my favourite (city), too. That's where I'm going next year."

Actually, her student exchange will land her in Edmonton in January.


Published in FFWD (Calgary).

UPDATE: Rebelde went off the air in Mexico, but it continues in other countries.

Pulque tradition fades in Mexico City

Story by : David Agren

A toothless waiter, wearing a blue puma T-shirt, in La Elegancia, a pulqueria in Mexico City's historic center, dropped a large glass containing a smelly, milky, alcoholic liquid on the rustic wooden table, charging 20 pesos. It smelled like an armpit, tasted astringent -- even with the peanut flavouring mixed in - and had a texture like spit. An old-timer standing at the bar dipped his fingers into his drink, pulling out long strands of gooey liquid, akin to egg whites.

Pulque, a 2,000-year-old beverage made from fermented maguey (a type of cactus) juice, once fueled the Aztec elites. The governing classes strictly forbade commoners from drinking it, punishing offenders with cruel beatings. Preferring stronger drinks, the conquering Spanish introduced distilling methods, producing mezcal —- and later tequila —- from the maguey plant.

Despite its noble origins, pulque has been steadily falling in popularity. More than 1,000 watering holes, known as pulquerias, blanked Mexico City a century ago. Large haciendas sent fresh pulque by the trainload from the central Mexican states of Hidalgo, Tlaxcala and Morelos into the capital, creating a pulque aristocracy. Nowadays less than 100 pulquerias remain, catering to mostly older crowds in rather seedy settings. Freshly harvested agua miel (honey water), the non-fermented version of pulque, is still fairly common in rural communities.

"Not many people drink pulque anymore," said Juan Vaca (the name he gave), a somewhat loaded patron in La Elegancia, wearing a Don Quixote T-shirt and Superman cap, who had trouble staying coherent with his answers.

"It was a tradition before."

Young Mexicans have moved on to other alcoholic drinks like beer, wine and tequila. Besides its offensive taste, rumors of using a sack full of human feces to speed up the fermentation process also dampened pulque's appeal. For many, it has simply become a novelty beverage.

"I hate pulque," said Juancho Nuñez, 29, a deejay who spins records in Mexico City's trendy Condesa neighborhood, adding some of his friends occasionally imbibe in rundown establishments like La Elegancia to be "cool.

"The style in Mexico is to be naco (tacky or lacking class)."

Despite its name, La Elegancia is anything but classy, selling only pulque trucked in daily from nearby Tlaxcala state.

A stench, reminiscent of an old hockey bag, wafts into the street. Behind a pair of swinging doors -- the kind from a western movie -- inebriated men standing by the bar call out a friendly, if not alcohol-induced, welcome. The bartender ladles glasses of pulque out of white barrels. Inside, shoes stick to the floor. A shrine to the Virgin Mary sits directly across from the bar. Pancho Villa and Bob Marley pictures cover the dated off-white tiled walls. A corner jukebox cranks out banda music and romantic ballads. A steel trough-style urinal runs along the side wall, where customers relieve themselves in plain sight of their fellow drinkers.

La Elegancia sells natural pulque for a mere eight pesos per glass. Equally viscous, but somewhat more palatable flavours include pineapple, tomato, oat, nut and peanut.
Most pulquerias open early in the day. By Noon, ten tipplers held court in La Elegancia, paying no attention to the smelly atmosphere. Others, however, popped in for a quick pick-me-up.

Jesus Garcia, a rail-thin employee at a taco stand downwind from the stench, loads up on pulque three times daily.

"It's refreshing," he said, finishing the final gulp, his jaw shaking the entire time.

A supposedly healthful drink, legend has it pulque boosts libido and is beneficial for nursing mothers.

"Pulque is much better than Viagra," said Celia Peña, a vendor selling kites in the Zocolo district with her husband Marcos, who flashed a shy grin.

"Pulque is natural. Viagra is a chemical."

She lamented though that the pulquerias sell such an awful product, saying homemade pulque from her pueblo in the State of Mexico tastes so much better.

With the alcohol content ranging from two to eight percent, it takes some serious drinking to get a good pulque buzz.

"It's not like tequila," said Jorge Menchaca, a Mexico City cab driver, who grew up drinking pulque.

"But if you drink a liter of it, you can't feel your legs."

Published in the Ottawa Citizen.

Memo to dope smokers: Your vice stinks too

By David Agren

A person who dabbles in recreational drugs recently berated me at a party for stepping outside to light up a cigarette - a legal, expensive and increasingly socially-unacceptable vice in Canada. After her lecture on the ills of tobacco use, its impact on non-smokers and supposed burden on the social safety net, she toked from a marijuana pipe.

Smoking has become so vilified that many thrill-seekers who indulge in self-destructive vices, ranging from drug use to drinking alcohol to promiscuity, condemn tobacco users, parroting the harsh rhetoric of the anti-smoking lobby. Even worse, they downplay the health risks of their own behaviours and break out amusing libertarian rhetoric to quite accurately observe that the state has no business in prohibiting their bad habits - while castigating tobacco users at the same time.

Stranger still, a growing number of recreational drug users justify their habits by trumpeting the supposed health benefits and organic origins of cannabis.

Last fall, a Calgary Herald contributor recommended marijuana as an alternative to Vioxx, an anti-inflammatory drug recently pulled off the market. But medical marijuana is a red herring. While it offers relief to some, most proponents have no need for it. Instead of making moral arguments to justify their choices, an increasing number of healthy - if not slightly fuzzy headed - pot smokers make unsubstantiated medical claims for their drug of choice. Health Canada would crack down on any nutritional supplement manufacturer making such wild claims for a non-hallucinogenic herb.

Nowadays, much of the smoking criticism comes from the political left as high-minded liberals fret over binge-drinking, long buffet lines, pop machines in schools, caffeine consumption by children and, now, cigarette smoking. The detrimental effects of marijuana use hardly ever get mentioned. "For many left liberals, marijuana has a positive connotation," said Jacob Sullum, a syndicated columnist and the author of For Your Own Good: The Anti-Smoking Crusade and the Tyranny of Public Health. "It's a function of its legal status that makes marijuana cool. ... If tobacco were banned, it would become cool too." If marijuana is so helpful, what about tobacco use? Some tobacco users claim smoking heightens mental acuity and curbs their appetite. Many smokers gain weight upon quitting. Furthermore, a small body of research demonstrates a few surprising side-effects from smoking tobacco.

In a controversial letter published in The Daily Telegraph in 2003 titled: "Smoking is not all evil," Dr. K.W. E. Denson, a tobacco researcher, claimed cigarettes offered redeeming qualities to some. "Compared with non-smokers, smokers have half the risk of Parkinson's disease and a reduced risk of Alzheimer's disease. Women who smoke after their first full-term pregnancy have half the risk of developing breast cancer," he wrote. "Would it not be more honest to allow smokers the choice of an increased risk of lung cancer and heart disease, or an increased risk of Parkinson's or Alzheimer's diseases?"

And contrary to popular belief, smokers do not burden the social safety net the way anti-smoking groups claim. If anything, they may save the system money. Smokers usually die sooner and thus forfeit most pension plan contributions, underwriting the retirements of their non-smoking counterparts. "By their logic, the government should be encouraging smoking," Sullum said. As for evil cigarette companies, governments at all levels in Canada profit more from smoking than tobacco manufacturers - and not all of that money goes towards health care. Many of these same people who heap scorn on cigarette companies, laud their local drug dealer and electricity-stealing cultivator for supplying a quality product.

"Tobacco to them ... has connotations of big business," Sullum explained. "Of course, if marijuana were legal, it would be sold by big corporations." Unlike perfectly healthy and able-bodied pot users who promote their vice as a panacea for all sorts of ills, no cigarette smoker cites any kind of medical claim to justify his habit. Most smokers would probably concede claims of supposed benefits sound rather spurious. Instead of castigating smokers, could pot users and their ilk please respect the rights of others to pollute their bodies with equally foul things? Marijuana smokers should step back in rare moment of mental clarity and realize that their vice stinks too.

Originally published at the Calgary Herald Q blog.