Mi Cultura, Mi Raza- Hispanic Heritage Month TX Latino Bloggers Tour

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My paternal abuelos Kina and Alfredo.

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A food lover since 1982

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My maternal abuelos Andres and Lilia

I come from a long line of fighters, lovers, chingones, comelones….. My raza is quite  a comidic one, dramatic, and loving, but most importantly, I come from a family that instilled a proud Hispanic heritage. I always remember my abuelita Kina’s words, “Si te dicen que sus huevos cuelgan, tu diles que los tuyos arastran.” And that is what it means to be Hispanic. You persevere, you’re proud , and you keep moving in the direction of happiness. What my parents have sowed, 32 years ago,  grew into beautiful strong seedlings who’s Mexican roots have now become entwined and buried deep in the heart of Texas.

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Mi Papi and Mami

Long before my 5 beautiful sisters and I were born, my parents decided that they would do what ever it took to build a life worth living for their children. Over the years my parents have sacrificed so much for us, and for this I will forever be grateful,  but I think the biggest sacrifice was leaving their roots, their home in Mexico to move to a country  who’s cultura was totally different from theirs. My papi  has said many times that this move has been only for the best. They wanted us to have an opportunity to thrive, to grow, be educated, be free to have options and to choose which ever path we wanted to tread no matter how many times we tripped. My papi  said, “You go to college, or you go to college.” So this country has allowed all 6 of us to have an education, work, a safer place to live.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my Mexico lindo…their papas preparadas, taquitos de la calle, tortillas made in the mollino, homemade milk bolis , and the elotes from my abuelos neighbor with homemade mayo and chilito….Aye, Diosito Mio, That’s my mero mole

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Mami and Papi

It was a  struggle, for my parents, to keep those hispanic roots strong in a country who’s American culture is so different and overwhelming.  I remember my mom pulling me out of billingual class in the 2nd grade because she wanted me to be exposed to English as much as possible. She said a teacher once told her, “School will teach your children English, you will teach your daughters Spanish.” That’s exactly what my parents did. They didn’t allow us to stray and become “Americanized” but yet they exposed us and taught us to appreciate, but never take advantage of, this beautiful country that has allowed us to do so much. I remember my mami taking us to the zoo, to market square, Fiesta…everything that was free…we were there lol…always finding ways to expose us to San Antonio.

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My abuela Kina and I

Celebrating Hispanic Heritage month is so important for us Latinos. I’m a  first generation Mexican-American. A proud Hispana who’s cultura means so much and its important to continue appreciating our roots. When I think about what it means to be hispanic I picture my family gathered around the table playing loteria, echando unas carcahadas, and eating. I remember us as children playing with the mangera outside, in the mud puddles, and my mami screaming at us “vayanse para fuera“…go outside and play….  Stopping the paletro and buying a wpid-img_29465253191960.jpegcucumber with chamoy….

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Rio Frio

Its a beautiful sight to see our cultura thriving in America, in our old San Antonio, in my nephews…in our children. So,  next time someone talks to you in English and somehow…you don’t even know cuando…acabo en Espanol…be proud…because THAT is our Latino culture entangled in America, the beautiful  place we call home.

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My Wednesday Afternoon10507823_734690633256512_1665027205_n

Sometimes with the hysteria of life we find ourselves programmed to just get things done. Lately, I’ve been programed to mad cow delirious. Get,a chingas, to work, finish work, get those problems solved, feed the chickens and the burro, take a shower, do this, do that, jump through hoops, do a pirouette…a maroma …. Dispite being tired, I agreed to watch mis amores because I missed them. The boys were peacefully minding their own business outside, my dad was working on his truck, and I found a chair to plop myself on. ” Aye Diosito mio”, is what I said when my pompas met that beautifully rusted chair.  As I sat outside watching mis papasitos chulos, a gust of cool fresh air blew into my face. I asked myself tiredly, “Que chingados Lili,” because, being the loca that I am, I often scold myself in third person. LOL. I KNOW someone out there does the same!  I’m confident I’m not the only kooky out there.  So anyways, I realized that because I was so busy being zombiefied I was missing out on all the beautiful things going on around me. So, I got up. I sat next to my cutie while he serviced my car. He ran to my dad’s tool box and gathered some tools. He said he would fix Tia’s tires and put gas like his papi does. After that he saw his brother was playing with the mangera… he ran, stripped down to his calzoncillos and began playing in the muddy water. Just like 10597314_257812371079268_375757296_nthat, without giving it a second thought. I would do anything to be free like that again. I laughed, took my shoes off, and joined the fun. Underneath all the chaos of 3 boys laughing, fighting, and splashing I heard my dad singing to a old-school bolero on the staticy AM La Rancherita del Aire. I stopped what I was doing, listened, smiled, and took the time to thank Diosito for moments like this that allow me to feel unconditional, unrestricted happiness. It brought tears to my eyes.

 

Dorćol Distilling Company and Los Nahuatlatos

A beautiful night spent in company of 2 of my beautiful sisters.

Awesome atmosphere, yummy drinks, and music fusion.

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Una salsita hecha en molcajete de mami.

A salsita made in the molcajete by my mom.

La vida se me hace desabrida sin mi salsita.

Life is bland without my salsita.