Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Today I am grateful for Mexican pottery. Never let it be said that my friend David and I didn’t do our bit to boost the Mexican economy. I’m a little out of sequence here, but when I began writing about the truck-wind chime-margarita-furniture-pottery Mexican adventure I had no clue. I often don’t have a clue, but I hide it better. So hang in there.
Before the Eduardo/margarita/furniture/hamburger debacle we had spent most of the day in a half dozen pottery stores. The best, where we purchased the most pottery, was nearly a barn with sections not much more than a lean-to. Spider webs and crawling things stuck to our hair and arms. It was brutally-hot-drippy-humid and dusty-dirty with a powdery floor that blackened our feet in seconds. But the pottery was great. Once you wiped the dust off of it and the spiders crawled out.
I’m a pottery slut. I’ve yet to meet the piece of pottery I didn’t like. All pottery is unique to its part of the world. Whole cultures are reflected in pottery. In some cases the economic standing of ancient civilizations can be measured by the pottery unearthed many years later. Pottery is an investment in our future. It’s a great family heirloom to pass down to our children. Are you buying any of this? No? Yeah, my husband doesn’t buy it either, even though we have a house full of pottery. He’s tolerant and I love it, so we play the marriage game with me trying to convince him and him grumpily denying he loves it, too. Honest. I bet. I think so. Well, maybe.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard my husband declare, “That’s it. You and David cannot be trusted whenever there is pottery involved.” True that. Yet there we were in Mexico. Buying pottery. With a truck. A big truck. So we bought pottery. Lots and lots of pottery. So much pottery I didn’t have time to search it all out for pictures, so I took a small smattering as proof of insanity and obsessive compulsive behavior.
At the barn we asked the man to bubble wrap several of the big pieces but he wouldn’t. When we expressed our concern that something would break in the truck, he told us that cardboard is the best. “Bubble break. Must not bang. As long as tight, no break.” That could apply to a lot of things, but I trust these guys to know how best to pack and ship this stuff, just like the guys in Indonesia knew.
Today I’m grateful for Mexican pottery. We made a plan to bring the truck over the next day, explaining that we had a lot of room. They said they would help us strap everything down. We bought a couple of bottles of Kahlua for John and some Mexican Vanilla for David’s wife and enough cheap blankets to cushion everything. With our Mexican shopping done, we stepped into Eduardo’s. . .