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Cialis farmaco generico, comprare cialis on line è sicuro IMG_2116[1]Although I’ve been in a Mexican-Canadian family for a long time, I’ve never actually celebrated El Día de los Muertos other than to touch upon it briefly in my Spanish classes and sometimes show the odd video clip to support those cultural five minutes. The occasion, which takes place on November 1st and 2nd in Mexico and other parts of Latin America and which honours the return of deceased loved-ones, has always appealed to me, however, and this year I wanted to do more with it, both in my classes and in my personal life. As far back as July, I began researching altars on-line which lead me to Susannah Rigg’s website Mexico Retold, a website which celebrates all things Mexican amidst some of the more troubling press. Susannah published an article of mine on the website and I’ve been following her work in Oaxaca ever since.  As you can imagine, my Mexican-born husband thought it most strange when I was collecting skeleton figurines and practicing making pan de muerto in the middle of the summer.  But, neither an artist or a baker, I felt the need to revert to my British roots and practice well ahead of time, especially if I was going to put any of the experiments on line which I intend to do over the course of the next week. November 1st, El Día de los Inocentes or El Día de los Angelitos, marks the return of infants’ and children’s spirits whereas November 2nd, El Día de los Muertos, honours the return of adult spirits. Families spend time at the cemeteries and build altars on the graves, making ofrendas, offerings which include food and drink their loved-ones enjoyed in life.   Flowers, candles, photographs, memorabilia and sugar skulls also adorn the altars, altars which people set up in their homes as well as in the graveyards. Cempasúchil, the marigold, referred to also as la flor de muerto, is the flower associated with the occasion and used to decorate the altars and graves. It is believed that their vivid colour draws the spirits of the dead back to the Earth. The last time I was in Michoacán, México, we drove past field upon field of them and our Mexican companion explained to us that they were used for making shampoo.  For this blog entry, I had to rely on the more meagre crop, but no less beautiful, in my parents’ garden.  IMG_2048[1]I’m glad I photographed them at Thanksgiving as they had wilted and frozen a week later and there were just a handful of blooms left to adorn yet another attempt at pan de muerto.

comprare levitra Firenze As I photographed the marigolds in the vibrant, October countryside one week and the next week took pictures of my final attempt at pan de muerto with candied orange slices and the last of the cempasúchil flowers, I thought about the word ‘anaranjado‘, the Spanish word for the colour orange, a word beginning Spanish students often struggle with. This, in turn, made me think of las mariposas monarcas, the monarch butterflies like the one my former student Kerry Jarvis gave me years ago.  And those butterflies which flit through our forests and meadows in July become the incarnation of the dead by the time they reach Mexico in November.  El color ‘anaranjado’ — the colour orange — what a joyful, lively colour with which to honour the dead. Stay tuned for my pan de muerto recipe in the next entry as well as for reflections on my altar a little closer to November. _______________________________________________________________________________________________ You can check out Susannah Rigg’s article on The Day of the Dead in Oaxaca at and read about the butterfly Kerry Jarvis gave me in ‘Un Regalo para la maestra’ in the September section of this blog.

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