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Please try again.Please try again.Please try again. Entranced by their stories and free-roaming lifestyle, author Catriona Rainsford decides to go with them on what becomes a two-year, hand-to-mouth journey across Mexico, learning to live off nothing more than a few performance skills, initiative and the kindness of strangers. Compelling, humorous, sometimes violent, and full of wonderful descriptions of life on the road, this is also a discussion of the morality of hand-to-mouth travel. Packed with stories of the characters she meets on the Mexican streets, the book offers an insight into the day-to-day experiences of Mexico's urban poor. They saw themselves as a modern take on the ancient tradition of the wandering entertainer, taking their art to the people, and taking whatever the people were prepared to give them to help them on their way.' Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. A promise made at closing time in a Cambridge pub then took her to Mexico, where a chance meeting began her journey with Mexican street performers. Catriona is currently living in London while she studies for a degree in politics and anthropology. She continues to practice circus, talk to strange people on the street and speak Spanish in a strong Mexican accent.Full content visible, double tap to read brief content. Videos Help others learn more about this product by uploading a video. Upload video To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzes reviews to verify trustworthiness. Please try again later. SGR 5.0 out of 5 stars I thought her book was well-written and honest account of how good most of the people in Mexico are, and how well they take care of each other.
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I have traveled the world, but never have I found such a live and let live, generous society. The drug cartels are it's national shame, but shouldn't stop anyone from visiting Mexico. Another similar book is Katie Hickman's, A Trip to the Light Fantastic, a different perspective on performers (an organized circus).Along the way, she gains insights into the kindness and generousity that characterize the Mexican people, but also into the way that the drug cartels are scarring the lives of ordinary people throughout this beautiful, misunderstood country.I bought this for a class and now that I'm done with the assignment, never again will I read it. At least till I learn Spanish.The Mexican culture and subculture is really quite varied. A great read!A new perspective on the world of present day Mexico and the young people from many places who are trying to make their way in the world.She knows her subject very well, and she has sharp observations.She is a wild adventurer who nevertheless clearly made excellent notes throughout her time in Mexico (I wondered how she found the time and energy), a great story-teller, and a beautiful writer. If you've traveled in Mexico, you've seen the street performers who breathe fire, juggle, and perform acrobatics at intersections. Read this book to see the world through their eyes.It achieved something rare in the annals of the group. In the great majority of cases although the book under discussion may be liked by some members, there is at least one dissenting voice - and often more than one. But in the case of The Urban Circus, everyone in our group was enthusiastic. The vivid descriptions, the thoughtfulness, the observations and insight into the Mexico the author experienced, the structure and language, the humour; all were admired and appreciated. Catriona Rainsford should be in line to get a prize for this book.Catriona answers all the questions above.
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The Malabristas become her family and she experiences the good and the not-so good of family life. She writes with great flair and the book is witty, insightful, never dull and full of the most ordinary extraordinary people that she meets on her way. There is fun, humour, love, toil, drama, suspense, danger, violence, sadness and also periods of boredom and aimlessness. Catriona does not create a solely pretty picture but what seems to be a very realistic one. Her insights into the broader political and social issues facing Mexico are well observed and carefully presented. I loved the opening line- had me hooked. She is open and honest about her feelings for her Malabarista family, Mexico and travelling itself. I definitely recommend this book to all who wish to learn in some depth about another country and another way of life. I hope she continues writing: the Honduras tale is yet to be told!I hope Catriona went back - though nothing is ever the same - i feel she found her self there!As the story unfolds you travel with Catriona to new and exciting places both physical and mental. The malabaristas have their own code to ensure their survival in this chaotic, and sometimes, dangerous world. Catriona has brought Mexico to us kicking and screaming, warts and all. The descriptions of people, places, art, and danger are well communicated leaving you feeling like you were there taking part, not just watching. This is the kind of book that makes reflect on your own value systems and their validity. Excellent.A well written blend of behind-the-scenes travelogue, romance and adventure. A good choice if you're heading off on holiday! Please choose a different delivery location or purchase from another seller.Please choose a different delivery location or purchase from another seller.Please try again. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. Full content visible, double tap to read brief content.
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Entranced by their stories and free-roaming lifestyle, the author accompanies them on a two-year, hand-to-mouth journey across Mexico, learning to live off nothing more than a few performance skills, initiative, and the kindness of strangers. Compelling, humorous, sometimes violent, and full of wonderful descriptions of life on the road, this is also a discussion of the morality of hand-to-mouth travel and offers an insight into the day-to-day experiences of Mexico’s urban poor.Entranced by their stories and free-roaming lifestyle, the author accompanies them on a two-year, hand-to-mouth journey across Mexico, learning to live off nothing more than a few performance skills, initiative, and the kindness of strangers. Compelling, humorous, sometimes violent, and full of wonderful descriptions of life on the road, this is also a discussion of the morality of hand-to-mouth travel and offers an insight into the day-to-day experiences of Mexico’s urban poor. Touch device users, explore by touch or with swipe gestures. The subjects vary greatly, from riding around Ireland on horseback to joining a troop of itinerant circus performers in Mexico. What links all our travel literature titles is the writers' ability to engage and inspire. Full of life, colour and personality they offer the armchair traveller a glimpse of the wider travel experience. In Botswana, far out on the Selinda floodplains, a cheetah stands atop a termite mound above the melting mist. Like the Maasai, they live in the central Rift Valley area of Kenya, where the climate is semi-arid. They are seminomadic and belong to the Maa (Nilotic) speaking group of people. They do very little farming. Their livelihood depends upon the cattle, sheep and goats they raise. They use their milk more than meat. They often drink milk mixed with cow's blood. Her whole body language says: “Don’t mess with me,” and even when we back away I can still feel her pale eyes upon me, as if she is looking deep into my soul.
” Savannah Diaries; www.bradtguides.com. (Wildlife photography by Lee Bothma) Travel Literature Literary Travel Iconic 80s Movies Gulf Of California Kindness Of Strangers Cultural Capital His Travel Travelogue Oh The Places You'll Go A chance encounter with a band of travelling street performers, or malabaristas, leads Catriona Rainsford on a two-year, hand-to-mouth adventure across Mexico. Shocking, humorous and full of the exhilaration of life on the road, Catriona's tale is a journey through dramatic landscapes and ravaged yet resilient cities: along the way she meets the 'ordinary extraordinary' people of this troubled land. www.bradtguides.com Old Egypt Cairo Egypt Ancient Egypt Life In Egypt Egypt Today Places In Egypt Modern Egypt Alexandria Egypt Visit Egypt One year after the first uprisings of the Arab Spring, Tom Chesshyre jumped on a plane and travelled across Tunisia, Libya and Egypt. The result is travel writing on edge. Ven y conoce Guatemala junto a. Drinks Logo Vodka Drinks Fun Cocktails Party Drinks Cocktail Drinks Yummy Drinks Beverages Martinis Cold Drinks Nugget Markets Michelada Recipe Let’s be honest, specialty cocktails aren’t usually associated with football parties. But we’re willing to make an exception this year: try our recipe for Micheladas, also know as Red Eyes or Red Beer. This is a lazy weekend favorite that we think you’ll enjoy just as much as your favorite brew. In the place of other horses she had bonded with me, and I with her. Consider changing the search query. List is empty. Search You can email us to discuss your order. You can also connect with us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or through our Blog. Restrictions apply. Try it free Manufacturers,See our disclaimer A vivid personal account of Mexico's itinerant street performers.The story opens in Chihuahua, North Mexico, with a chance meeting with a group of itinerant Mexican street performers.
Compelling, humorous, sometimes violent, and full of wonderful descriptions of life on the road, this is also a discussion of the morality of hand-to-mouth travel and offers an insight into the day-to-day experiences of Mexico's urban poor. Specifications Language English Series Title Bradt Travel Literature Publisher Bradt Travel Guides Book Format Paperback Original Languages English Number of Pages 286 Author Catriona Rainsford Title Urban Circus: Travels with Mexico's Malabaristas ISBN-13 9781841624440 Publication Date May, 2013 Assembled Product Dimensions (L x W x H) 7.70 x 5.10 x 0.90 Inches ISBN-10 1841624446 Customer Reviews Write a review Be the first to review this item. Ask a question Ask a question If you would like to share feedback with us about pricing, delivery or other customer service issues, please contact customer service directly. So if you find a current lower price from an online retailer on an identical, in-stock product, tell us and we'll match it. See more details at Online Price Match. All Rights Reserved. To ensure we are able to help you as best we can, please include your reference number: Feedback Thank you for signing up. You will receive an email shortly at: Here at Walmart.com, we are committed to protecting your privacy. Your email address will never be sold or distributed to a third party for any reason. If you need immediate assistance, please contact Customer Care. Thank you Your feedback helps us make Walmart shopping better for millions of customers. OK Thank you! Your feedback helps us make Walmart shopping better for millions of customers. Sorry. We’re having technical issues, but we’ll be back in a flash. Done. You can choose your favorite genre with one click. A huge plus of our site is the high-quality voice acting. Every day, our portal is replenished with new series, since at the moment the film industry is sufficiently developed to release new projects almost every minute. We will be glad if you use our site.
You will not be disappointed. In order not to miss the release of new series, save our portal, add to bookmarks, because we try only for you. Click here to help us continue doing this work in 2014! Catriona Rainsford, a young writer and traveler who grew up in the UK, spent two years roaming Mexico with a group of malabaristas (street performers) and saw a side of the country few have ever experienced. From small rural villages to drug cartel-ravaged cities, Rainsford lived and eventually performed with an itinerant, fluid group of unicycle riding jugglers and fire “spinners.” After her full immersion into this subculture, where creativity is prized, loyalties are fierce, home is the last town you hitched a ride to, and caguama (beer) drinking is as essential as breathing, Rainsford returned to London and wrote The Urban Circus (Bradt Travel Guides, 2013, paperback) a superbly realized memoir of her experiences.I’d been facing the other way, gazing idly at the truck driver we were hitching with as he stirred tablespoons of instant coffee and sugar into his mug of boiling water. A surly waitress clattered crockery at an adjoining table. Trico jerked his head at the news bulletin playing on the TV screen above my head. The footage had been taken at dawn, the men’s long black shadows etched across the gold of the streets.And I thought of Creel the way I had seen it, seven months before, the day I met Trico. This was not unusual for Trico; he saw the entire world as a complicated arrangement of surfaces to ride unicycles on. But at the time I didn’t know that, and stopped walking for a few seconds to watch him. The street alongside the plaza was wide and lined with low-slung buildings, revealing a fringe of pine trees above the line of rooftops. It was the sort of street that looks lonely without horses in it.
It was the final day of a small festival that had been held in some caves nearby, in that after-party hour that hangs heavy with spent adrenaline, when those that have homes hurry back to them, leaving those that don’t to linger dazedly behind. Like them, I was adrift and disoriented after the festival and perhaps my lost expression invited a gesture of solidarity. Calling me over, they offered me a swig of their beer. Not them precisely, but others like them, drowning in the flood of seething city traffic, gasoline-stained hands thrust out for a couple of spare pesos. I had read about them as well, never more than a couple of sentences in the middle of some rumination on Mexican poverty: another symbol of desperation in a country where almost half the urban population worked on the black market, and men joined the drug gangs because they saw no other way to make a decent living. They would be grouped in the same category as the boys who jumped on car bonnets as they waited at traffic lights and started frantically cleaning the windscreen, hoping that guilt or gratitude would inspire a tip. Or the children with huge black eyes like Japanese animations who wandered between the lines of cars, choking on exhaust fumes and reaching up to the windows to hawk small plastic packets of chilli peanuts. Just more impoverished kids trying to scrape a living off streets that were already overworked. Possessed of a frenetic energy, he did everything with quick, jerky little movements, like a clockwork toy wound up too tight. The vibrantly clashing colours and patterns of his clothes and chiselled planes of his face were crowned by a topknot of wild black dreadlocks, exploding with multicoloured braids. Sawn-off bits of plastic tubing kept the piercings in the lobes of his ears stretched to a width of several centimetres. Taken as a whole, the effect was one of carefully calculated insanity.
Perched absurdly atop a unicycle with coloured beads on the spokes of the wheel and a tyre that appeared to have come off a mountain bike, he rode round and round us in dizzying circles.Their feet were bare and they clutched bundles of bracelets made from grubby twisted string. The Tarahumara of the Sierra Madre are among the poorest indigenous peoples of Mexico, and often young children are expected to help bring home a few extra pesos by selling handmade trinkets to the tourists in the villages. The little girls wore dresses with the unique shabbiness of hand-me-downs, stained with elder sisters’ accidents and elder cousins’ dinners. Pedalling the unicycle over to come to a rocking equilibrium in front of them, Trico drew three fluorescent orange juggling clubs from the bag on his back and pointed exaggeratedly to his eye to indicate that they watch. He delivered a brief but enthusiastic display, embellishing the basic juggling patterns with tricks and flourishes. On finishing he gave them a bow, and they giggled in delight and hid their dirt-smudged faces behind their hands with childish coquettishness. Good for off-road riding. Mountains, deserts, that kind of thing.’. It left you wondering what was spontaneous and what was rehearsed, how much was personality and how much persona. He embodied what captivated me most about Mexico: the impossibility of knowing where reality ended and fantasy began. It describes a specific type of circus performer: one whose skill lies in the manipulation of objects. And beneath that it carries a note of ambiguity, a hint at something darker.It wasn’t an obvious career choice for someone with little natural coordination. But that day was one of those aimless ones when, freed from the blinkers of any particular plan or direction, you see the world as a kaleidoscope of possibilities fanning out around you.
On such a day, just as a newly hatched duckling will adopt the first thing it sees as its mother, any chance encounter can lead you into an unexpected and unlikely future. I had been planning on leaving Creel later that evening. Instead, hearing that Trico and his friends intended to stay on to explore some of the surrounding area, where the road west led into the rugged backcountry of the Sierra Madre, I checked into a hotel room on the outskirts of the village and promised to see them again the next day. By about 11 every morning they would be on the plaza, and over the following days I got to know them a little better. She was originally from Ciudad Juarez, the crime-torn border town to the north, notorious at the time for being the most violent city in the world. She had been living on the streets around Mexico for the last two years. A man had welcomed them on arrival, offered them a drink, and informed them offhandedly that they should stay away from the locked room at the end of the corridor as he had a kidnapped man in there. There was no knowing if it was true or not, but it was the sort of thing that in Juarez was well within the bounds of possibility. She would then go to the nearest shop that stocked alcohol and swap the flower for a can of beer. When that can was finished, she would use it to make a new model flower, which she would take to a different shop and swap for another can of beer. It was an impressively self-sustaining system. The only trouble with it, she conceded, was that it forced her to constantly keep moving, as she could never go to the same shop twice. The women because they like the flowers, the men because they understand the need for beer.’ He would have been extremely good-looking if it weren’t for the pitted chickenpox scars up the side of his face and a wolfish way of looking people up and down, as if deciding where to take the first bite.
Bernardo warned me about him that first day on the plaza, indicating him with a slight inclination of his head and whispering in my ear: It’s the equivalent of the famous head wobble in India: a nationally recognised code laden with delicately nuanced meaning to those who have grown up with it but infuriatingly, almost maliciously incomprehensible to anyone else. It suited him well, as he also looked out at the world with a wall-leaner’s air of ironic detachment. As far as I could tell, he had only one goal in life, which took up so much of his mental energy that he had little time to think of anything else. This was to make hair braids. Specifically, to make a hair braid for every woman he came across, in every place he went. Hair braids were Bernardo’s way of marking his territory, of establishing himself as the alpha male of the surrounding area. He kept a careful mental list of women he had braided, in the way that lesser men might collect notches on their bedposts, and every time a sweep of black hair crossed the street tagged with one of his signature flashes of colour, he would smile to himself with a little nod of satisfaction. The first time he spoke to me it was to ask if I wanted a hair braid, and when I declined he promptly offered to make me one for free. This was about more than money; this was about conquest. I never heard anyone else call him anything but chilango, the generic name for anyone from Mexico City. This was always spoken in a tone that hovered between affection and mockery, the non-chilangos’ contempt for chilangos being matched only by the hilangos’ contempt for them. Luis had warned me about him, later that day on the plaza, indicating him with a slight inclination of his head and whispering in my ear: I had a feeling this would turn out to be another one of those things that until I had been in Mexico longer I just wasn’t going to understand.
After several months of travel through Mexico and Central America, my bank balance was dwindling rapidly. I had come up through the northern Mexican state of Chihuahua on my way to California, from where I was to fly home, find a job, and consider my next move. I was unsure what the future held, but I imagined the next few months of it would include morning alarm clocks and presentable shoes and subservience to the whims of shift supervisors and assistant managers and (worst of all) those belligerent 9 a.m. customers who don’t quite know what they want, but know it’s your fault they didn’t get it. The thought gave me no pleasure. Anyone who has been on the road for an extended period of time knows that. Freedom is a drug. But as with any drug, the doses that got you high at first come to feel rather tame after a while. And as with any drug, a hardcore freedom addiction can end up enslaving you more effectively than your old life ever did. Then, once you take the addiction to the next level and no longer buy return tickets, you become a slave to the budget. Now the pencil is dealing not with dates but with figures, as you start penny-pinching ever more stingily and chastising yourself for your every unnecessary expenditure. Eventually, you start taking odd jobs along the road in bars and restaurants and, although you congratulate yourself on having found a way to never have to go home, a treacherous voice in the back of your head keeps whispering that if you wanted to spend all day working in a boring job, you could do it in your own country, where at least the wages would be better. Employers, banks, politicians... they all have the power to tell you what to do, how to live. Freedom is having enough money to tell all of them to fuck off.’ Over the following days in Creel, I watched them with increasing interest. This, it seemed, was their definition of freedom. I checked out of my hotel room and joined them for the trip.
From the turning, we carried our packs several kilometres through the pine forest, emerging on the lip of a canyon from where a steep track zigzagged down to the cluster of volcanic pools at the bottom, cradled in the rock above a narrow river which lay grey in the dusk rain. By the time we got down and set up camp on the edge of the pools the sky had cleared enough for tiny stars to start struggling through the clouds. Fireflies flashed like spells among the trees. Before long Sandra had a small fire going, coaxing a sulky lick of flame out of the damp wood and poking with a stick at a pot of coagulating rice. Up to his neck in the steaming water and swigging from a plastic bottle of Florde Cana, Trico gazed around him in beaming satisfaction. Did you get the idea to write a full book about it as you traveled around? But it wasn’t until much later when I met Hilary Bradt, the cofounder of Bradt Travel Guides, that I started to believe it could happen. I had recently returned from India, where I had been hoping to make a life for myself until an accident forced me to return to the UK. I was talking with a friend who had recently returned from Guatemala and was also longing to go back. We were exchanging stories of our new favorite countries, and questioning how we could be so sure where to live when our experience was still so limited. After a few beers, we decided that the only way to find out was to “swap” countries and see how it went. We shook hands on it, and the next day I booked a one-way plane ticket. Flights to Guatemala were too expensive, so I ended up in Mexico instead. But I didn’t have much money, so it was natural for me to gravitate towards communities that lived hand-to-mouth and could teach me how to earn a living on the road. Shows in plazas or street parties can be longer and incorporate several different types of performance, such as clowning, drumming and acrobatics.
They still tend to be fairly impromptu though, feeding off the energy of the audience rather than having a fixed routine. The most professional are shows at private parties or hotels, when people have hired you in advance and often have an idea of their own of what they want to see. Those are much more likely to have elaborate costumes and choreographed stage shows. If the venue has the facilities, it is sometimes possible to include elements of aerial circus, such as silks or trapeze. But of course, it depends on the skills within the group at the time.How did their lifestyle change your perspective on your own life? I thought a lot about myself and how to achieve the future I wanted. The banda taught me to value each day for what it is, and to count every meal as a success. More importantly, they taught me that the best investments are the ones you make in other people. If you are the sort of person who shares everything you have, there will never be a time when you have nothing. Because even if you lose everything, there will always be people prepared to share what they have with you. How often did you feel threatened? But what was most draining was the constant feeling of intimidation that made ordinary people afraid to talk freely or go out on the streets. That was why the malabarista lifestyle came to mean so much to me and why I developed so much respect for those who live it every day. It takes a huge amount of courage to keep clowning around on streets where murders and kidnappings are everyday occurrences. In an environment where gangs consolidate their control through violence and fear, being silly is an act of conscious defiance. It’s beautiful to see that, even there, it’s still possible to make people smile. The army is claimed to be the only institution with the power to combat organized crime, not only because of its superiority in training and resources, but also because it is seen to be less plagued by corruption than the police force.