When I went to Salamanca in August 2004, I tripped out on the weather. I wasn’t used to seeing a bright, clear and sunny day suddenly become cloudy and give way to a downpour that wouldn’t last more than a half hour.
There’s a rumor going around that I have a squeaky voice. This is not true. I stopped sounding like a six year old in 2000. It’s been a really busy quarter and I know I haven’t been writing as much as I usually do. As usual, I have a lot to say/write and I’ll be taking advantage of more dynamic ways to communicate with blogotitlán.
For now, I’ll leave you with a repost of my guide to a successful quinceañera and the last 30 seconds of el vals (the waltz) at Elizabeth’s quinceañera last December in Jalpa, Zacatecas.
Dear Mexican parents and future quinceañeras,
I know you want to go all out to celebrate your little one’s quince años. I’m sure you want to show her off and prove that you have the means to thrown one hell of a party, but you don’t have to go broke to have a good time. Just think, you want to celebrate her now, in the present, but also remember she has a future and this is just a party.
And girls, I’m sure you want your quinceañera to be better than your best friend Lety’s, but remember this is not a competition! So, after attending my fair share of coming out parties, I thought I’d offer some sage advice.
I present to you: Cindylu’s guide to a successful quinceañera.
You can thank me later.
General
Good idea: keep it small. I know this is impossible with some families, but small is relative. Everyone in her freshman class does not need to be there. If you haven’t talked to your cousin twice removed, don’t invite her either. It’s just a glorified birthday party! NOT a wedding.
Bad idea: spending her first year college tuition (or semester if she goes to a private school) to cover the costs. It’s even worse if she can’t live in the dorms because you decided you just had to hire Banda el Recodo.
Preparation and planning
Good idea: finding talented family members or trusted friends (why do you think you have comadres y compadres?) to make things such as the dress or cake. I lucked out because my tía Ana made wedding gowns and my tía Marta is a pro with fancy cakes. Do-it-yourself (DIY) is still cool.
Bad idea: finding the most over-priced vendor for some insignificant thing, like the recuerdos.
Good idea: asking people who love you (hello, tías y tíos!) to pay for stuff like the cake, flowers, or photographer. They love you, right?
Bad idea: being an ungrateful little brat who throws tantrums for stupid shtuff. If a family member is a padrino of something, consider that his/her/their gift to you.
Good idea: writing that the Mass begins as 1:30 on the invitations when it technically begins at 2. This way, people will actually be on time. If you invite white people, let them know the Mass actually begins at 2 or else they’ll be waiting around for half and hour.
Bad idea: excluding directions and printing the actual time the Mass begins on the invitations. Avoid the casualties of Mexican time at all costs!
Good idea: including your padrinos de honor on your invitation. They’re paying for stuff, no?
Bad idea: listing the padrinos de bras, panties, medias y muñecas on the invitation. It’s okay that they’re paying for stuff, but they do not need to be on the invitation. Remember, simplicity is cool.
Good idea: ensuring that your family attends the church ceremony. This is an important and beautiful part of the celebration. This should not be time to be decorating the cake, putting up streamers, or getting your hair and makeup done.
Bad idea: a ceremony with only you (the quinceañera), your parents, padrinos, chambelanes and damas. If you’re going to do the Catholic church thing don’t do it half way.
Good idea: bilingual Mass (unless you go to México to celebrate).
Bad idea: all Spanish-language ceremony and the quinceañera barely understand Spanish. Conversely, an all English-language ceremony would exclude non-English speaking family members. Balance is good.
Good idea: holding the reception at your home or the home of another family member. I’ve been to beautiful quinceañeras held in a backyard. It takes more work, but you can save money.
Bad idea: paying thousands of dollars to only spend five hours in a hotel banquet room… and you still pay for the food, music, and decorations!
Good idea: hiring a photographer.
Bad idea: letting your tío Charlie — you know, the one who forgets to take the lens cap off and often decapitates his subjects — be your photographer.
Good idea: hiring a videographer. You’ll laugh years later at how silly you, your friends and family looked.
Bad idea: playing the video every single time someone related to you comes over for weeks after the party. Your tías and tíos were there, they don’t need to see it again!
The look: dress, hair and makeup
Good idea: a color other than white for the gown. This is my own hangup. I don’t think fifteen year-olds should look like mini-brides. If you insist on white, try some accents in a different color. Also, make sure the dress is age-appropriate.
Bad idea: all white dress at a party where there might be lots of dust or dirt (e.g. a rancho). Oh yeah, cleavage is not cool when you’re only fifteen years old!
Good idea: have the person who will be styling your hair practice before the day of so that he/she will know how long it will take to get your hair done. My tía Luisa did this for me which was helpful because my hair is weird and doesn’t stay when it’s curled.
Bad idea: leaving it all to the last minute.
Good idea: if you don’t usually wear a lot of make up, keep it simple.
Bad idea: looking like a mini drag queen.
Good idea: bringing along a pair of comfy shoes such as flip flops or your white Chucks to dance in when your feet get tired.
Bad idea: wearing your beat up Chucks with holes in the soles. Not cute.
Good idea: crinolina! I love the springy hoop that goes under the skirt of the gown.
Bad idea: crinolina under an already exceptionally puffy skirt, unless you want to look like a cotton ball or powder puff.
Good idea: a good night’s rest. Hey, it’s a big day.
Bad idea: staying out all night.
The court
Good idea: asking your best friends and family members to join is as part of the court, you know the damas and chambelanes. You do not need to have 14 couples. You don’t even need couples. I had a court full of chambelanes, as did my sister. I’ve seen others with only girls. Hint: guys are less trouble. It’s so easy to just take them all for their tuxedo fitting.
Bad idea: asking random boys to be a chambelán because your cousin La Guera (who you don’t even get along with) needs a partner. Remember simplicity is cool.
Good idea: inviting the immediate family of the kids in the court.
Bad idea: being rude and leaving out the parents of your damas y chambelanes who put up some money for them just to be part of your party. They also probably drove them to and from practice. They deserve some recognition, and an invite is good.
Good idea: putting some thought into making the waltz fresh and creative. You don’t need to hire a choreographer, but it’s cool to put a new spin on a rather boring dance.
Bad idea: same old boring waltz to the Blue Danube.
Good idea: staging a choreographed dance to some type of contemporary music following the waltz. My sister and a group of her friends (some weren’t even part of the court) did a swing dance routine and the guests loved it. It helps start up the dance part of the party.
Bad idea: any dance routine involving poles, feather boas, dollar bills, hot pants or stiletto heels. You’re fifteen, dammit!
Day of: food, drink and music
Good idea: birria! But have an option for the herbivores besides arroz y ensalada de papa.
Bad idea: really spicy birria or other main dish. What about the white people or us Chicanas/os with acculturated palates?
Good idea: live music. You can’t go wrong with a mariachi during the Mass and dinner. Try to strike a balance.
Bad idea: hiring your 16 year-old neighbor’s craptacular garage band that any adult will hate. Moshing is okay at a concert, but not at a quinceañera.
Good idea: keeping tabs on the alcohol and serving apple cider for the brindis (toast).
Bad idea: open bar with a lax bartender. Underage drinking (and cops) is a great way to ruin a good party. You and your parents don’t need more headaches.
Good idea: eat, but be careful!
Bad idea: eating or drinking in a rush so that you drop salsa on your dress.
Day of: finishing touches
Good idea: renting or borrowing a cool car. You can get a limousine or go for something less common. My dad rented a convertible, I felt like a homecoming queen nominee.
Bad idea: spending two hours getting your hair done, and then having your driver speed to the church so that when you arrive your hair resembles a rat’s nest.
Good idea: a theme and sensible color combination. You get more points if you can get a song to go with theme. I wore pink and had butterflies as my theme. It worked out well since there’s a song called “Vals de las mariposas” and you can play off the symbolism of a caterpillar coming out of its cocoon transformed into a beautiful butterfly.
Bad idea: mismatched colors and horrible theme, such as clowns.
Good idea: heartfelt thanks to your guests. If you can do it in both languages, great! If you trip up a lot in Spanish, prepare a short thank you speech beforehand or have your parents translate. Also, make sure to greet your guests during the reception.
Bad idea: disappear from the party and never even greet your guests. You might not really know everyone at the party (I know I didn’t), but they took time out of their schedule to come celebrate your birthday. Be thankful. Make your parents look good.
Good idea: graciously accepting compliments. You’ll look radiant that day, as usual.
Bad idea: saying “Thanks, but I look so fat in this dress!” every single time someone tells you that you look beautiful.
Good idea: dance, even if you’re no good at it.
Bad idea: being a wallflower. Believe me, boys will ask you to dance. You don’t have to dance with everyone who asks, but go out and enjoy yourself. This is supposed to be the first time you’re “officially” allowed to dance. Take advantage of it.
Good idea: avoiding the alcohol.
Bad idea: getting drunk. Vomit + fancy dress = horrible situation. Don’t embarrass yourself or your parents.
Good idea: smiling a lot and having fun. My mom always thought the prettiest quinceañeras were the ones who looked happy.
Bad idea: being a punk. No one likes a brat. None of this, “it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” shtuff. If something bugs you, deal with it in an adult manner.
Aftermath
Good idea: get people (friends, family, and whoever else stayed ‘til the end) to help clean up a little or put gifts in the car.
Bad idea: leaving the reception hall or house where the party was held trashed.
Good idea: day after left-overs and gift-opening tardeada. Oh yeah, write down who gave you what and send out thank-you notes.
Bad idea: opening up the gifts without your abuelita around. Se pone sentida.
Good idea: saving gift money for college! I had to inject something nerdy in here.
Bad idea: blowing the money on something dumb like Pumas, concert tickets, or CD’s.
That’s it. Remember the three main things: balance, simplicity and do-it-yourself. Quinceañeras are a big deal for a girl and her family. I hope you enjoy yours as much as I enjoyed mine almost ten years ago.
Eek!
Sinceramente,
Cindylu
P.S. Maybe some day I’ll show you pictures.
Tere’s wedding day on Monday, December 26, was way too long. The day started with a wakeup call at 5 am and ended around 1 am the next day. The day involved a 6-hour roadtrip from Jerez to Salamanca, Mass, reception and baile (dance). I wore beautiful gold heels I could barely walk in but ended up running around in when I did “la víbora de la mar,” drank a little too much alcohol, was bit by a couple of mosquitoes, and didn’t wear my sweater when I should have. The next day, my feet hurt like crazy and I couldn’t stop coughing.
It was all worth it if only to witness my first ever dollar/peso dance, celebrate Tere’s wedding, and to be around dozens of people who share my last name, father’s graying hair, Grandpa Bartolo’s features, and my big lips.
I know this picture is cheating, but it tells me so much about the little pueblo my mother’s family is from, El Cargadero. Located about 10 kilometers from Jeréz, the pueblo seems like a shell of what I remember as a kid.
Plaza Cívica el Migrante (El Cargadero, Zacatecas)
On my second day there, I asked Papá Chepe about how many people lived in El Cargadero. He didn’t give me a number and instead said that it was very few. “Three fourths of the homes here are empty.” Then he pointed, to several homes around the plaza belonging to his neighbors. They visited just as often as Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni, a few times a year for a couple of weeks. Papá Chepe continue, “This place is dead.”
He was right, or at least that’s what it felt like during the day. During the day, I saw few people walking around, maybe two or three kids playing in the plaza, and a few older men gathered at the corner of the plaza. At night, despite the cold, teens and kids and adult men came out to the plaza to play volleyball and talk about who knows what.
The above photo shows the name of the plaza that I played in so much as a kid. Now, it notes the connection El Cargadero has to thousands of its children scattered across el Norte in cities and states like Anaheim, Chicago, Washington and North Carolina.
More sources:
Gustavo Arellano, an “investigative reporter” for OC Weekly, has written a lot on el Cargadero and especially its connection to Anaheim. We can both count ourselves among the 1,000s of descendants with direct links to the “mountain hamlet.”
My mother comes from El Cargadero, a mountain hamlet in the central Mexican state of Zacatecas that over the past century has hemorrhaged more than 1,000 residents to Anaheim.
I could have written that sentence.
Answer: Because Mexicans Never Return to Mexico
For years, the only phone in my mother’s hometown of El Cargadero, nestled high in the mountains of the desiccated central Mexican state of Zacatecas, was in the house of Salvador Barrios. Whenever someone received a call, Salvador had to jog up and down El Cargadero’s hilly streets and let the person know that someone wanted to talk to them. It didn’t matter if it was night or day, heat or rain: Salvador ran.
I’ve made and received calls with Salvador o “Chava” during this trip and before. My grandparents still don’t have a phone in their home.
E for El Cargadero
There are more than 1,000 Cargaderenses in Anaheim. I’m sure a few hundred are related to me.
The El Cargadero Social Club by Nick Schou
Appropriately for such a club, the roster reads like a who’s-who list of El Cargadero’s most prominent families: Saldivar, Barrios, Fernandez, García, Ureño, Gamboa, Miranda, Casas and Viramontes. Ninety percent of the Cargaderenses have at least one of those names somewhere in there family trees.
(Italicized apply directly to me.)
As a kid, I never really liked going to the Tijuana house. The place bored me, tremendously. Once was enough to take in the virtual museum of Ureño Saldivar family history all in. For some reason, I stayed away from this home for years, I think about six. There was no reason to make the trip, so I didn’t.
Now that I returned with Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni the house feels different. There are all kinds of locks on the doors to the bedrooms, but I doubt thieves would want to steal the real treasure in the house: old photographs.
The house always impressed me as a kid. It is three stories tall. The garage, master bedroom, a bathroom, kitchen, dining room, and apartment are all part of the top floor. The apartments on top floor and bottom floors are all rented out to various tenants. The middle floor features a large living room, a smaller sitting room and two bedrooms. I stayed in one of these rooms. Outside of the middle floor is a balcony I never went out on because it was rather cold. Every one of these rooms is full of 60 plus years of family memories as it has expanded from 2 to 10 to 80. Photos sit in frames and albums, recuerdos from weddings and quinceañeras made of yellowing lace and plastic figurines grace tabletops, and religious icons look down at you from their place on the walls.
The photos have always been my favorite. You could look at three different family trees on display in the house, but those are just names. The photos on display and in albums show a different perspective aside from sheer growth, the affection and love we have for one another.
My favorite set of photos is that of my young parents, tías and tíos holding their first born. All the pictures are the same size, look like they were taken at Sears, are reddened by exposure. In one photo, circa 1974, tío Beto and tía Ana hold their oldest, Elizabeth. She’s the cutest kid in the photo and the only one the photographer was able to get smiling. In the next, taken in 1978, tío Chuy and tía Luisa hold their eldest son, Eric. In the last, Danny sits between my mom and dad in a picture taken sometime in 1979. My mom is dressed in casual clothing and my dad still has his work uniform on with the name tag that reads Carlos.
I wondered if other tías and tíos took portraits as young families. Later, I found a similar studio portrait of tío Pancho and tía Martha with Nancy in 1986. The picture is larger, better quality and not reddened. I’d like to see similar photos with my Padrino José and Madrina Chilo holding Bibi; tía Socorro and tío Hector holding Sandy; and tía Eva and tío Manuel holding Evangelina.
My favorite snapshot is of my mom on her wedding day in between Chepe and Mamá Toni. She looks ethereal and has a quality I’ve never seen in any other bride: the ability to look gorgeous on your wedding day without a ton of makeup. On her face she wears a touch of blush, light blue eyeshadow and lip gloss. The blue compliments the white of the veil and small daisies. A 57 year-old Chepe kisses my mom on her left cheek while Mamá Toni is frozen less than an inch away from her right cheek intending to plant one on her sixth born. My mom’s thin lips are spread taut as her smile goes from from ear to ear. She shows off a gorgeous smile of large, straight, white teeth that I’ve inherited. She’s a perfect twenty year-old bride with her mommy and daddy showing that even though she just exchanged vows with her new husband and should “become one with him” and his family, she is still very much a daddy’s girl integrated in her family.
The photo reminds me of all the other beso photos I’ve taken. The best is the photo where Lori and I put Papá Chepe in the middle. On his face is a smile and look of joy equal to that of a young bride 25 years earlier. Affection in our family doesn’t get old.
I’m home.
For all the complaining I did about the big changes in weather — very warm and sunny days, very cold nights — I would rather have that than the rain.
I’ll be back with stories and pictures soon… I have many.
Hope you all had a good and happy new year. I was in bed watching a movie while my parents and grandparentes tried to get some rest for the long drive back early the next morning despite the gun and firework blasts going off in el Cargadero and the roaming band.
I had no one to kiss at midnight except for Ozo (the monkey, not Oso the blogger).
Hola. If you can believe it, this is my first time online in over a week. Weird, yes, I know.
This trip to Mexico is different. My immediate family is here, I’m with my octogenerian grandparents who tend to treat me like a little kid. I’ve been writing a lot (I had a lot of time to myself from Sunday to Saturday) and taking lots of pictures too. My grandparents go to sleep at about 8 pm, so after that I get to just chill in my room in their house in Tijuana or el Cargadero, Zacatecas, and watch lots of Gilmore Girls season 5, write and make playlists for CDs.
Um, highlights thus far?
Well, going back to Jeréz and el Cargadero for the first time since I was about 10 years old have been weird. Jeréz is a lively city a few miles away from el Cargadero, the pueblo where my grandparents and their families have lived for years. Last time I came, the place looked smaller, but there was much more going on. I played with kids in the main plaza (now called Plaza Civica del Migrante) when I came as a kid. I had friends and there was all kinds of things for me to explore. I only missed my parents and cartoons in English. Now, when I asked Papa Chepe about the population of el Cargadero, he told me the place “está muerto,” the town is dead. There are few people left, he says 3/4ths of the houses are empty and only get filled in October for last fiestas de San Rafael.
Everyone está en el Norte, including my grandparents. It makes me wonder what the migration does to a little town like el Cargadero. Everyone has family in Anaheim, Chicago, North Carolina, etc. Closer to Christmas, I saw more cars driving in with California plates. They were easy to identify, and not because of the license plates. They were newer, shiny SUVs and pick-up trucks.
My parents and tía Martha’s family arrived on Saturday evening. It’s good to have them here. I think in a few years I’ll look back at how bratty I was to think of the time with my grandparents as boring. Well, it’s just slow-paced. Ten of us (grandparents, mom, dad, tía Martha’s family) packed into my tío Pancho’s truck and drove to Salamanca, Guanajuato. I know this place, I really like this place, even with the smell of the refinería de Pemex.
Right now, I should go back to my cousin Tere’s wedding. She looks beautiful as all brides do. Her dad and mom, the ones I stayed with when I came to the Rancho last August, look proud. And her many brothers are decked out in the finest trajes, al estilo Lupillo Rivera.
It’s a good place to be, but I miss home, my siblings, VR (the puppy), el Venado, my roommate, and of course interacting with all you fabulous blogeros.
Feliz Navidad (if you celebrate it, I’m sure you said less Hail Mary’s than I did), Happy Holidays, y Prospero Año Nuevo.
Los extraño!
I leave to Mexico today. After a crazy family Christmas party last night (60 people!) I packed and am pretty much ready to go.
I’ll go from Hacienda Heights to Tijuana today with my grandparents, Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni. On Tuesday afternoon, I’ll leave from the Tijuana to Zacatecas. I’ll spend a few days in Zacatecas before leaving for a wedding in Guanajuato. Then it’s back to Zacatecas for a quinceañera. And after that big party, I’ll be heading back in my Tío Pancho’s truck with my tía Marta, cousins Nancy, Vanny and Valerie, and my mom and dad.
I’ll check in with you and provide pictures if possible, but I don’t know about free wi-fi in Zacatecas or Guanajuato.
Take care!
Since Friday I’ve been writing about la Virgen de Guadalupe. Most of it is over at blogging.la and is largely devoid of my own personal feelins on la Virgencita. That’s the tougher part to write.
I really wanted to name one of these “the 474 year old Virgen,” but felt that being reverent was more important than being funny. Excertps from the blogging.la series.
The Ubiquitous Virgen de Guadalupe (12.10.05)
I know you’ve seen her. She’s on candles, murals, taco trucks, and flickr. She’s in private homes and in public spaces. She has her own alcove in ornate churches and graces humble shrines. She’s even on a steering wheel cover in Wal-Mart.
Celebrating la Virgen de Guadalupe (12.11.05)
My parents and grandparents woke up this morning at 4 something a.m. I ignored them and went back to sleep. As much as I try, I can’t match my elders’ devotion to la Virgen de Guadalupe. They left to church to begin the festivities for el Día de la Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. December 12 is a major holiday in Mexico and is celebrated the Mexican way: with a big party.
From Tepeyac to East LA (12.12.05)
Recently, I gave my brother a black t-shirt emblazoned with a white stencil of la Virgen de Guadalupe. She wasn’t the same Virgen my mom has placed throughout our home. This Virgen’s demure face was covered with a handkerchief and rather than hold her hands in prayer, she held a rifle. A ribbon below her feet showed the well-known mantra of the 1910 Mexican Revolution and 1994 Zapatista uprising in Chiapas, “Tierra y libertad!”
I have a paper and research proposal, plus accompanying presentations for each of those to complete by the end of this week. Yes, it is my favorite week in December, finals. Needless to say, there are many places I’d rather be right now and many things I’d rather be doing. Swimming in the warm waters of the Pacific Ocean and strolling along the beach in Mazatlán are just two of them.