FEAR OF FALLING

I knew there would be problems when I decided to live in a third world country. There were lots of fears and questions.  How would I manage on a day to day basis, not knowing the language?  How would I adjust to the food and the culture?  How would I manage my finances with no mail?  Would I be able to meet and make new friends?  How would I handle my medical needs?

After living here for just a few days, I realized what my greatest fear was.   It was not a fear of being blown away by a drug lord (I don't deal in drugs).  It was not a fear of being kidnapped (no one would pay more than $100.00 to get my out of "hock").  I wasn't even afraid of eating food from tacos stands.  My greatest fear was falling.  A broken hip would be disaster for me.

All the side walks have surprise levels of concrete.  There are cables bracing telephone poles that are bolted to hooks in the middle of the sidewalks.  Some sidewalks suddenly end in a drop of a foot or more.  I have never seen so many people on crutches or canes as I have here (of course the population is pretty old).  The cobble stone streets are difficult even with out pot holes.

Last week I went to Apache's (one of my favorite bars) and had two margaritas from Endra.  I knew if she made them, they would have very little alcohol in them (Andreas' margaritas are lethal).  Next to the bar is a cafe that had painted the side walk.  This makes it very slippery even when dry.  They had just mopped it and sure enough I fell.  As I went down, I instinctively put out my hand to break the fall.  All my weight landed on my wrist and left side.  Several people rushed up to help, but I limped off.  I was sure my ego was more bruised than I was.

The following morning I awoke with a sprained ankle and wrist, a badly bruised hip and ached all over.  I went to my masseur (who is also a licensed chiropractor in the US).  I guess I felt a little better but my back still hurt. The following day, I awoke feeling better and it was Christmas Eve.  I decided to take a walk down the Malecon at sunset to see if I could get some good photos.  To my surprise there was very little going on (most Mexican families celebrate at home on Christmas Eve) and the sunset was not much.  Many of the establishments that I knew were closed, so I headed back.  Since I had not found a bar open that I liked, I was headed for Frida's.  In front of the Plaza Cardenas the side walk slightly slopes down.  Suddenly I lost my balance and could not regain it.  I managed to stagger for a few feet then saw the concrete sidewalk coming up.  For an unexplained reason, I did not try to protect my head with my hands and I went down hard on my head (maybe I thought of my already sprained wrist).  Many of you must think by now, that I am some hopeless old falling down drunk.  You would not be entirely wrong, except this time it was 7:00 at night and I had not had a single drop of alcohol.

Again several people appeared to help me up.  I knew I had hit my head, but thought that if I just sat down and rested for a while I would be fine.  Then a vendor ran up with a bag of ice for my head.  As soon as I put the bag to my head, I knew I was in trouble.  Not only was it very painful, but I could feel a bump the size of a small egg.  I decided to take the offer of two strangers to help me to a hospital.  I was still confused and directed them down the wrong street, but finally found the hospital.  They left and I called my friend.  He came immediately.

The nurses spoke no English at all, but a very nice doctor appeared who did.  The hospitals by the way, are very nice here.  You would not know one from any in the United States.  After taking my blood pressure (110 over 190), he gave me something to put under my tongue (it tasted awful).  My friend looked horrified and I told him that I had not seen myself yet.  He told me it was best I did not, but he did take a picture.  They wrapped my head in a large ace bandage and after my blood pressure was down to 90 over 140, they let me go.  Richard called a cab and took me home.  He had people waiting for him at a restaurant so he left.

After a few glasses of wine and a sleeping pill I went to bed and slept for 10 hours or more.  I am very surprised and amazed, that I am not that sore.  I removed the ace bandage and got a look at what I had done to my head. I decided to put it back on.  I will buy one of those trendy head bands the "jocks' wear when I go out again.  I have now lived here for over one year and the only times I have fallen happened within one week.  Let's hope 2012 is a better safer year for all of us.  Don't expect Christmas card or letters from me, but I do wish you all "Happy Holidays"

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THE COCKTAIL PARTY

Granted, it had been years since I entertained, but I used to be pretty good at it (in fact some of my Laguna Parties were nearly legendary).  I had never entertained in Mexico, but how hard could it be to have a few friends over for cocktails??

Well first of all shopping is an experience in Mexico.  You have to go from shop to shop to shop to find what you want, and sometimes you don't.  It seems that vermouth is just not available here.  What was I to do about my martini swilling friends?  The stores have red, but no white vermouth.  I finally broke down and told them that either they bring a specimen bottle of vermouth, or there wouldn't be any.  They told me that they brought theirs down from Canada, but that straight vodka would be just fine.  Of course it has to be shaken with ice (never stirred) and my silver cocktail shaker is somewhere in storage.  I finally managed to borrow one from my favorite bar.

I had to stock up on all sorts of booze, not being sure what anyone drank.  As it turned out, no one had any gin or rum, but we went through three bottles of tequila and two of vodka (mind you it was a small party of about 20 people).  We also ran completely out of the mixing stuff for Margaritas.   Then came hors d'oeuvres.  I bought several cheeses, nuts and made some ham rolls, and a couple of dips.  My friend made his fabulous guacamole.  Then I went to Los Mercados (where the 'white folk' shop) to buy some hot hors d'oeuvres.  All together there was lots of food and between the booze and food must have spent my months allowance.

 Rule No. 1 for a good cocktail party is to have more guests than chairs.  That way people mingle and talk to everyone and the party is more lively (otherwise they all sit in packs and only talk to each other).  Would you believe I have 16 chairs and four ottomans in this little apartment.  I placed all the dinning chairs against the wall, but that did not keep people from pulling them out and sitting on them.  Next time I will hide all six chairs in the laundry room.  Now granted some people (especially the friends my age) have to sit.  But I find they are usually interesting people and people will gravitate around them.  It started slowly (no one in Mexico arrives on time) and 10 or 12 people did not show up at all.  No one calls or gives excuses here, they are just no shows and may not even mention it again.  Mexican culture is different.

Everyone wanted to be on the patio where I had four equipauli chairs around a table.  I put no food out there at all, for I knew people would sit there all night and not move.  Finally two more chairs were added to the already crowded patio.  My two most entertaining guest whom I  counted on to be the life of the party sat together on the sofa.  I finally managed to get them up and moving about, but they too wound up on the patio.  Meanwhile I had eight platters of food sitting uneaten.  I gave up and carried some to the patio.

I had hired my favorite bar tender who did a wonderful job of keeping everyone happy and their glasses full.  I like to be free to make sure I greet each guest upon arrival and get them with someone they are comfortable with.  I also make sure to say a special "thank you, and good night" at the door when they leave ( one did escape, totally unnoticed by me).   The booze was flowing and everyone seemed to be having a good time in spite of the fact that I kept trying to get people up and moving around,  The "white folks" all left at a reasonable hour, but the Mexican contingent stayed on (taking over all the patio chairs) and started doing shots of tequila.  I only had two real shot glasses so they were drinking the shots out of water glasses (hence the three bottles of tequila).  One of my Mexican guests had brought a good bottle of tequila, so I did not mind the booze consumption, but my midnight I was fading fast.  I finally asked my friend to suggest a cab (there is also a cab stand across the street, one more thing I did not pay attention to when I rented the place).  Everyone said they had a wonderful time.

I awoke late and very tired, but determined to clean the place up.  NO WATER!!  I could not wash dishes, or do the floor (let alone take a shower).  It was off for two and a half days.  The owner apparently will not give the management company money to pay for anything.  Marcello the maintenance man or "super" said that she will not even buy him the proper tools to fix things in the building.  He borrows mine when ever he can.  My Realtor said, "there was nothing more they could do".  Well I fired off a fiery letter stating that they had better figure out what else they can do since they rented three more apartments after I told them of all the problems.  I did get the emails of the other tenants and sent them all a letter.  I started it with "Welcome To Our Little House of Horrors)  I then got them all together to go "en mass" to the management office and tell them that no more rent will be paid until all our grievances are met.  By noon the water was running again.  We will probably never find out the real problem.

You can probably think of some problems with having no water.  Luckily I have bottles of hand sanitizer, but it takes a half a large bottle of drinking water for one flushing of the toilet.  Three days later, I still had dirty dishes and glasses in the sink from the party.  The floor was a mess (it usually is in Mexico) but at least I now have water.  Of course it is brown when it first starts flowing.  I almost did not want to use it to mop the floors.  Eventually it clears up (you don't want to think about what might be still floating in it).  Yes, there are problems with living in a third world country, but please do not think that my problems are typical of all rental situations.  I just picked a "lulu" of a building.  But, I am here and making the most of it and do like the way the apartment looks. I finally gave up and bought my own TV, eventually I will buy a microwave.  I don't think I will ever get anything out of the management company, but all I really want is a new contract with a new starting date.   I am sure we both hope that I don't have to write another posting on this apartment.

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HOME AT LAST!

Someone once said, "There is no place like home", (it may have been Dorothy).  Truly, there is nothing better than being in your own home (especially after 6 weeks of living somewhere else).  For all the problems (and there have been a lot) I really do love living in Mexico and I am very happy to be home again.  But it was not easy.  When I relate the latest in the latest saga of my new apartment, you will find it hard to believe.  People who have lived in Mexico for decades cannot believe what all I have been through, but it is all (sadly) true.

When I left six weeks ago, I really expected to return to a fully furnished and air conditioned apartment.  My friends had been checking on the progress and did not give me many encouraging words.  It was always tomorrow (manana) but it never happened.   My first thought was to walk into the manager's office on Monday morning and tear the place apart, but a friend prevailed upon to try to be nice.  I went in and simply asked, "Why?"  No real answer has ever been given,  just "sorrys" and promises that it will all be taken care of tomorrow.  It never was.  If it had not been for the kindness of my friend I would have been living in a hotel.  I reminded her of that, and the fact that I had paid four months of rent and the place was still unlivable.  She insisted that it was just a "delivery problem" (for three months??)

Suddenly my Realtor reappeared.  He has now rented four of the units in the building (I was just the first unlucky sole to attempt to move in).  His client was arriving at 5:00 that evening and the apartment was not ready (What a surprise!!).  I had been telling him that for months.  His wife (an American) then got involved and contacted the head of the management company running the building.  Eventually a lawyer was contacted and they spoke to the owner.  The appliances that I had been expected for months were then purchased locally at Walmart (no less) and delivered the following day (well sort of).  Because of the buses in front of the building, the delivery man refused to carry them to the building (no one ever uses a dolly here).  After about 15 minutes of an argument I witnessed, he dropped them on the street!

Thanks to my new friend Jose (who moved my plants) they managed to get them to my apartment and the new guy's place.  However nothing was connected.  I realized that there was no gas line or vent duct for the dryer included, so I ran off to the hardware store to buy them myself.  When I returned, there was no one here.  Everyone had gone home.  The next day everything was connected so I move in.  Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you that they finally got the air conditioner working, and the rest of the furniture was also delivered earlier that week.  It is hideous Mexican modern made of paste board painted black.  The bed was a little more than a foot off the floor (I think someone forgot the feet), but the nightstands are also only one foot tall.  The washer dryer are great, but the refrigerator is Lilliputian.  The freezer is below eye level and it is on top.  The TV and microwave are coming on a later truck.  I hope not the one from Guadalajara that has been "delayed" for three months.  No real explanation of why the "delayed delivery" has ever been given.

Once in the apartment a new problem developed.  I came home from the beach one day and noticed a slick streak on the floor.  It was tiny beads of water.  If not mopped up the beads of water become puddles.  Originally the streak started at the hall closet door, made a 90 degree angle into the living room and then another 90 degree angle under my desk.  Every time I mop it up, it will reappear.  At first I thought it must be my hot water pipes in the cement floor and reacts to the cold tile.  But the streaks continue to grow and now go under the dinning table and in front of the sofa.  There are no wet steaks anywhere near the kitchen or laundry room.  I think the  place is haunted.  By accident I discovered that if I leave the fan on high, it dries up, so it is definitely some sort of moisture problem (probably never to be solved).

My drapery lady is another sad story.  I paid her in advance two month ago for labor, materials and installation.  It was supposed to be done before I moved in (it was not).  When I got back I found her phone no longer working.  I called the shade man that recommended her and he said that she lost her phone and had a new number and that she told him everything was done.  I called her and I think a week or so later she arrived with the drapes and valance.  Every day she said it would be tomorrow (manana again).  The valance was a meter too short (not inches but a yard) and the drapes were four inches too long so they drug on the floor.  She took them back and I think it took another week to deliver the drapes.  They are unlined (she saw my old lined drapes) and the hem is off from side to side by about three inches.  I told her I did not care, but put them up and bring me the valance.  She never did and now does not answer her phone.  I called the shade man back and he said she was sick, but would look into it.  How could one person make so many bad choices on one apartment???

Oh well, it is going to be home for a while.  There is no use even looking during the "high season".  Next summer I will reassess the situation.  I have poured a lot of time and money in the place and the location is great even if it is over a bus depot (all Mismaloya buses leave from my building)  But, you know what they say in real estate about "location".  Also Jose and his wife have set up a little food stand under my balcony where I can get coffee cake and fresh fruit every morning.  I should also mention that across from the bus loading zone are seven taco stands, that I have yet to try.  I still have no TV or microwave and I have yet to get a new lease eliminating the first two months.  But we will see how it goes.  I have invited some friends over for cocktails this Friday to see the apartment.  I am going to send you a few photos, but remember it is still not done yet (and may never be done).  The mural was from a former tenant (they were going to paint it out) so I took a color out of the painting and did the whole room. 

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I AM BACK!!

Yes, I am finally back in my beloved Puerto Vallarta.  My life must sound like a living Hell here at times, but it is still Paradise to me.  No, I am not yet in my new apartment.  It is still not livable, but by now you must be tired of my apartment, so let's talk Turkey.

The tour company had booked us a flight where we had to change planes in Paris.  There was just one and a half hours between "touch down" and "take off".   The ticket agent at LAX told us that we would never make it.  Our plane was late in arriving and it took forever to get off the plane.  Our connecting flight to Istanbul left before we had cleared security (why they have it entering a country, I do not know.  Do they think we picked up a bomb on the plane??).  The next flight was almost seven hours later.

I asked Air France to call the Istanbul airport when our scheduled flight arrived to tell our guide that we would be on a later flight.  They did not.  I also called the home office of our tour company in Boston.  They were closed, but by pushing every button on the phone I finally got a live person (I think he was in India).  I gave him our names, reservations numbers, the flight we missed and the flight we would arrive on and asked him to contact our guide.  He did not and we later found out that the guide waited an extra two hours for us in vain.  It was after midnight when our plane got to the Istanbul airport.  We did manage to get a cab and arrived at our hotel.  We had requested twin beds (we are close, but not that close) but they gave us a double.  I headed for the bar before it closed.  There is no smoking inside the hotel and no drinking outside (it was a muslin area)  I gave the bar tender a heavy tip and took my beer out to the marble steps of the hotel.

After maybe 5 hours of sleep after a 30 hour flight, the phone rang.  We were due in 20 minutes for our first tour (I was not pleased).  I was barely conscious, but I did know it was raining.  The brochure said the temperature would be between 61 and 72 degrees.  I packed shorts and T shirts and only one long sleeve shirt.  It was maybe in the 50's with a wind chill factor that must have brought it down to the 40's.  In spite of all this, I was awed by Hagia Sophia.  It was built in 537AD and was the largest building in the world for almost 1,000 years.   It is beautiful and amazing.  While in Istanbul we also visited the Blue Mosque and the famous Turkish Bazaar.  Kathie loves to shop: I do not so I had some tea.  I learned to love the Turkish black tea that they call Cay (pronounced chai).  More on Turkish salesmen later.  We also visited the cisterns under the city.   They were built a thousand years ago so that the city had water during wars when the city was under siege.  It looked just like the set for Phantom of the Opera.

Another day we went to Topkapi Palace (which covers acres and acres) all in a pouring rain storm.  I did see the famous Topkapi dagger (famous for a film called Topkapi) and saw the incredible jewelry collection.  We then boarded a small boat for our "cruise along the Bosphorus".  I am sure it would be wonderful if it had not been raining.  We were all huddled inside the cabin freezing to death and the windows were so fogged we could barely see out.  Had the weather been nicer and it had not been raining all the time, there were many things I would have explored myself, but alas I did not.   Istanbul must be one of the most fascinating city in the world and I feel that I missed it.   We next flew to Izmir where he got on a bus to Kudasai and then the famous roman ruins of Ephesus.  I was disappointed in Ephesus as it was one of my main reasons for wanted to visit Turkey.  The two story facade of the old library is quite impressive, but the rest of it is just a jumble of stones.  I was much more impressed with Perge and Aspendos.  The hotel was very charming, having been build by one of the daughters of the last Sultan.  The view over the small yacht harbor looked very much like the South of France.

Next we boarded our little yacht.  It had just enough cabins for the seven couples.  At last it was warm weather (not warm like P.V. but warm)  We cruised along the beautiful Turkish Coast for 5 days (four nights).  I really don't know if we were in the Aegean Sea or the Mediterranean.  One day the guide scheduled a smaller boat to take us up some river (for exactly what, I never found out)  Not far up the river our boat hit a sand bar.  Other boats tried to pull us out, but to no avail.   Six or Seven of my tour members jumped into the shallow water in an attempt to rock the boat.  I did not volunteer (well, I was older than all but two of them)  Finally we all got on some small boats and were taken to a small island with a snack bar.   Eventually our tour guide hired another larger boat that managed to avoid the sand bars and took us back to our yacht.  All in all, a rather adventuresome day.  The food on the ship was quite good and amazingly so when I saw how tiny the kitchen was.  The entire staff were all very nice.
We did a lot of hiking and saw Cleopatra's baths (I don't think so) the "rock tombs" dating back to the 5th century BC, as well as Roman/Greek ruins.

Next we arrived in Antalya.  It was my favorite city (maybe because it was not raining).  We stayed in a beautiful hotel made up from old homes along a little alley.  It was very charming with a large patio and view.  I loved to walk along the winding cobble stoned streets and inspect the shops and visit as many bars as I could.   I usually drink beer on trips as it is the cheapest drink,  but I happened to discover a cute little sidewalk cafe that had a good "cheap" white wine.  I tried to explain to the owner that many Americans drink wine and she should add it to the list of drinks on a chalk board she had.  She asked me to write it (to this day, my handwriting may be on that chalk board). 

It was during our stay in Antalya that we visited Perge and Aspendos.  The most incredible Roman ruins, that I have ever seen.  You could walk down the marble streets where you could see the ruts made by chariots thousands of years ago.  You can see where the shops were, where the bath was and the agora.  The stadium for games was 800 feet long.  Parts of the wall date back to the 2nd Century B.C.  But the most amazing site was the theater in Aspendos.  It was totally complete except that the statuary had been moved to the museum.  One woman from another tour group stood up and sang.  The acoustics were incredible.  It was Roman and dated to the 6th Century A.D.  We did visit the museum there were you could see the gorgeous marble statuary that mostly came from the theater.

Unfortunately we had to leave after just two days.  I did have time to experience a "real" Turkish bath.  It was interesting but I really did not like it. After a hot, hot steam bath, they ask you to lay down on a hot marble table and then lock the door.  It really burns the skin, but afterward they exfoliate you, then bath you and then the oil massage.

Then we took a long long bus ride up into the mountains for the dreaded "home stay".  Why the tour company thought that visiting a remote village in the middle of no where and staying over night with a Turkish family would be something we wanted to do, I do not know.   We had been told that 7 to 10 of us would be sleeping in one room with one bathroom.  I live in Mexico, why would I fly half way around the world to visit poor people?  I wanted to see how the rich Turks lived.  The tiny village had obviously been spruced up from the tourist money coming in and the house we stayed in was quite modern.  It was not a typical village, or a typical house, or a typical family, but we did all have our own rooms and there were two baths.  I still hated it.  I had asked the tour guide to just drop my off at some local brothel, or better yet an opium den.   I don't think he understood my sense of humor.  Anyway I survived it.

It was another very long bus ride to Cappadocia.  It is a very strange looking place with huge spires left by thousands of years of erosion.   We visited the rock carved churches all built underground.   We also saw a whole city built underground into the rock.  The area had been volcanic so the stone was very porous and easy to carve.   When warring tribes arrived they left their village and went underground.  The guide told us that they could live for months with plenty of food and water.  They also had a place to make wine inside the cave.  There was an optional balloon ride that people did recommend, but the tour began at 4:30 in the morning and we were told that it would be even colder up in the balloon.  I declined but Kathie went and nearly froze to death.  I also skipped the whirling dervishes, but we did visit the mosque built for the dervish people, I guess.

Our last night there Kathie and I decided to visit what was called the Rock Castle.  It was a huge outcropping of rock that dominated the city.  On the way up the narrow winding street, Kathie decided to do more shopping.  I proceeded up the hill looking for a bar and found a charming cafe and sat on the square sipping my wine.  I am including a photo of it and if you look closely you can see beside my wine glass is a hookah.  Kathie had not joined me so I went back down the street where I found her in a rug shop.  She whispered "Help, they are going to kidnap me"   The man seemed nice enough to me and offer me a tea.  I accepted while I watched him get down on his hands and knees in a praying position still trying to get her to buy his rug.  Kathie wanted to leave, but I was enjoying it too much so I continued to sip my tea while he begged and pleaded with her.  He came down from $275.00 to $150.00 but she just wanted out, so we left.

At four the following morning we boarded a bus for an hour and a half ride to the local airport.  We waited there for about 3 hours before boarding a plane for Istanbul.  We had another wait there before flying to New York, where we changed planes again.  By the time we got back to Kathie's house we had been traveling for 33 hours.  I am glad I finally got to Turkey, but I do wish it had been nicer weather.  Puerto Vallarta has spoiled me.

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MOVING, THE FINAL CHAPTER

At one point, I felt that it might be my own final chapter.  I was living proof of Murphy's Law (anything that could go wrong, will go wrong).  Let's start with the fan.  It was obvious that the "super" was not going to put it up.  The "good" electrician was on vacation (I think most of Mexico is on a permanent vacation), so I got a young kid to do it.  Right away I knew it was over his head.  The installation required two lines (one for the fan and one for the light).  We set off for the Fretteria (hardware store) where he bought 100 feet of lamp cord.  The wiring in the building appears to be good copper wire, but this was not going to be.  He could not manage to "fish" the wire through to the wall switch.  I was never sure exactly what the problem was, but after two days he was able to "gerryrig" a wire off another wall switch.  I did not like the way it looked, so I chiseled out part of the concrete wall myself to hide part of the wire.  Then he insisted that he needed a metal bar to hang the light from the ceiling.  I did not like the idea of a "hanging fan", but what can you do.  We went off the the iron works factory where he picked up a rusted, crooked piece of iron and proceeded to hammer into a straight line.  The fan now works, which was a God sent for the air conditioning does not.

While he was there working  under the sweltering conditions of that apartment I told him of the problem of the air conditioner.  He spoke to the "super" and discovered that neither he nor the manager knew how or where to buy freon gas (unbelievable, but true).  He knew an air conditoning man and arranged with his friend to have it delivered the next day.  Of course he was late arriving and by then the office was closed and no one (not even the super) has a key to the roof (Unbelievable, but true,again),  He came back the following morning, put the freon gas in and then discovered that there is a "major electric problem" with the air conditioning.  Each day, I am told it will be fixed "manana".

My favorite bar tender had offered to help me move and he had a friend with a pickup truck.  We set it up for Saturday.  But his friend decided to take his girl friend to  the river instead, so we had no luck.  Filipe (my favorite bar tender) said he would carry the pots (one by one) the two blocks to my new apartment.  He is a big strong guy, but I just did not see that as an option.  We talked to the other bar tender who did have a truck and he agreed to move me on Sunday.   He never showed up and never called, but I later heard that his brother had taken the truck and he did not know where he was.  So, he said he would be there on Monday night (for sure) when Filipe got off work.  He did not show up and no one had his telephone number.  He was robbed a few weeks ago in Monterrey while visiting his girl friend and new baby and they took his cell phone.  Either he never go another phone, or he has a different number.  Filipe again offered to carry the pots, but he as sick with the flu and was running a fever.  I sent him home.

The guy who runs the tour buses in front of my building said he had a truck and would move me at 6:00 that night.  When he did not get there by 7:00,  I panicked.  If I had not been stood up the previous three nights, maybe it would not have bothered me so much.  He arrived with a little skinny guy, but they both put the pots on their shoulders and started down the stairs.  Since I had borrowed a dolly from my friend, I wanted to show them how much easier it would be if they used the dolly.  So I put on of the smaller plants on the dolly and of course it fell off and cascaded down the stairs, breaking the plant and scattering dirt everywhere.  The rest went smoothly and my ten plants are now happy on my new deck.

Since I still have no furniture in my new apartment, I am spending my last two nights here with my friend (so I can finish cleaning my old apartment).  Because I will not be here on November 1st, I must give the manager another months rent.  This means that I have paid 4 months rent on an apartment I have never slept in while paying for my old apartment (which is paid through Nov. 15th).   I have spent about $1000 US on the new apartment for which I do not even have a signed lease for.  I think I told you in the beginning that I wound up in Mexico instead of the South of France because I made some very bad financial decisions.  Obviously, I have learned nothing.  Sadly age does not necessarily make one brighter.   Hopefully when I return in a month, the air conditioner will be working and I will have a bed to sleep on (the reason they wanted 3 months advance rent was to order the furniture) Anyway I am sending you a few photos to give you a taste of what the new apartment will look like.  I will be back in one month.

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MORE ON THE NEW APARTMENT

Moving anywhere can be difficult and trying on the nerves.  Moving in Mexico is a whole new experience.  My Realtor (who spoke perfect English) went on vacation shortly after renting me the apartment (or he is just refusing my calls).  Neither the manager or the "super" speak one word of English (mind you, there isn't a Mexican in the building).  I have a list of 15 questions and complaints and no one to give it to.  I still have no signed copy of the lease (which is in Spanish). It has now been over a month, since I paid three months rent in advance.  Since all the furnished apartments were rented, they told me that they had to order new furniture (thus the three months in advance).  Did I have a choice?  NO!  It would be the same ugly Mexican modern that the rest of the units had.  I did insist on a queen size bed.  A king would be too large for the room and since I sleep alone (regrettably) it would be a waste of space.  We will see.

I was given permission to paint, providing I returned it to the same ugly off white when I left.  What I did not realize at the time is that the entire apartment would have to have been painted for any other tenant.  The former occupant had a dog.  You can tell by all the dirty spots on the wall where the dog scratched himself.  Either the apartment had been vacant for a long time of the former tenant was a real pig.  I had to clean the walls and base boards before I could paint.  I am still waiting for the apartment to be cleaned (as they promised).

I told you of my problem in getting a painter, so I have painted the entire apartment myself.  I bought small cans of paint first, as I was not sure of the colors I wanted (I now have four unused paint cans).  What I did not know is that each time you order a can of paint, it is a slightly different shade.  It gives the walls a sort of water color look, and I thought it looked more Mexican so I did not fuss.  When I decided on the yellow I wanted, I did want to make the same mistake so I ordered a gallon of paint.  It was so different from the one I selected I had to repaint every bit of yellow.  It was a Sunday and the paint store was closed and complaining would do not good anyway (complaining never does here, they do not care).  Their thought would be, "Hey they are both yellow.  What is your problem?".  As it turned out the new yellow was a little more subtle than the brilliant Mexican yellow I had picked out and maybe easier to live with anyway.

The customer may be King in the U.S. but in Mexico he is a second class citizen.  I was told that I needed a powerful "surge box" for all my electric gadgets because the electricity goes on and off so often.  I bought one at Office Max, but in six months it died.  I took it back with the receipt and they said that their products are only warrantied for one week.  If it does not fail in one week, you are out of luck.

Gas and water were included, but I had to pay for electric, cable and Internet.  After my four month fight with Telecable, I did not want to go back there, but found out that they are the only cable company that has the English channels.  I was hoping they would not remember me.   In order the get electricity you must go to the main office downtown to sign a "contracto".  Even a Mexican can not do it by phone.  I was told where the office was located and I was sure I knew how to get there by bus (I did not)  Once I found the office it went very smoothly.  Since I do not have a signed lease they took the receipt I have for the three months I paid in advance.  You have to give them a deposit (normal) but you also have to pay what ever the last tenant left without paying (fortunately for me, he did not owe that much).  Then it was off to the dreaded Telecable.  No one recognized me (all old, fat, grey haired gringos look alike to them).  It will cost me more money each month since I am no longer sharing the Internet with my neighbor, but hopefully I bought a more reliable and faster network.   They also needed the name and address of a local who knew me, and my pass port.  WHY?  Well, because it is Mexico. 

The cable company could not install until I had electricity.  The electric company said the power would be turned on in one to five days (that is Mexican days).  After eight days I had the building manager call them.  The electricity had been connected a week ago.  There is a switch below the meter on the street that had to be flipped (wouldn't you think that the manager or super would know that?).  I still have not been able to get an answer from Telecable.

Since I needed permission to install tile in the kitchen, I had to wait until the following Monday.  The tile man needed 7 to 9 days to finish the tile and he needed money for materials.  I went ahead and gave him 2,000 pesos and ordered the tile.  I had to have it finished before moving in and I wanted it done before the furniture arrived.  There was no margin for error.  I know, I know, in a country where nothing happens on time or goes according to schedule.  I got permission and the tile was started two days later.  The problem was the new sink I bought.  It was not "exactly" the size of the old one.  That was just the first problem, when the old sink was removed the rotted pressed wood underneath collapsed.  One good thing about Mexicans is that they can fix or salvage almost anything (In the US the whole thing would have been thrown out).

The tile is almost done and looks gorgeous (photos will have to wait until I get back).  So I went down to the office to find out where my signed lease was, and where the furniture was and when it would be delivered.  The don't have the lease back from the owner of the building and they are going to bring the old furniture I don't like, down from an empty apartment (the man died).  They said my Queen size bed would be delivered later and they would take the old King out (what are the odds??).  I still have not been able to arrange for my "stuff" to be brought across the border or I would have taken the apartment unfurnished.

The blog is becoming a " Book".  I have been so busy painting and cleaning that I have not even begun to pack.  I leave for Turkey in less than two weeks and must move before packing for the trip.  The air conditioners do not work and they have yet to install my fan.  The ceiling light in the bathroom is broken and the buzzer to the downstairs door does not work.

Stay tuned.......


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NEW APARTMENT

I arrived here last year in the height of the season.  There were almost no apartment for me to choose from.  I took the first decent one that I found.  This year I did not want to make the same mistake so I started looking in July.  To my surprise, there still weren't that many choices.  I wanted to remain in the Zona Romantica (I like the name and that is where all my bars are located).  I also did not want to have to climb several blocks straight up a hill when coming home from the bars.

I wanted a two bedroom so I had an extra room for my office and another room for guests.  Another big requirement for me was a large covered deck or terrace.  I love plants and have really enjoyed sitting on my deck and watching the rain pour down.  I also wanted a Mexican looking place (but not too Mexican).  After a while I realized that I might have to give up on some of my requirements.

A Realtor showed me a very nice place, but it was too far up the hill, then he told me about one he had not yet seen.  It turned out to be the large modern building I pass almost every day going to my gym or my Spanish class.  I had never looked up at the building to see the "For Rent" sign hanging off the building.  I wasn't thrilled with the look, but amazed when I saw the size of the apartments.  There were five available at the time.  Within one week there were only two, so I knew I had to make a decision.  There was only 1500 pesos difference between the one and the two bedroom, but the only two bedroom left was on the top floor which did not have a roof over the deck.  The one bedroom had the same huge living area, so I took it.   From the laundry room through the kitchen, dinning area and living room is forty feet long, plus a fourteen foot terrace. 

I was hoping for a "quiet neighbor".  This one does not have a lot of cross traffic, but the tour buses are loaded and unloaded in front of my building.  The time when they start and finish varies with each person I ask.  Either they do not kow, or they do not want me to know (I assume they do not run all night long).  I am not sure there is a "quiet neighborhood" anyway, as Mexicans are just noisy by nature.

Even furnished, there was plenty of room for my desk and I could bring down my card table and four french chairs, my breakfront and several other pieces of furniture that I have lived with for 35 to 50 years.  Of course I still don't know how successful I will be in getting my "stuff" down here.  The furniture in the apartment is new, and what I call Mexican Modern (truly hideous) so I need something to make it more Mexican and more "me".  I was surprised when I emailed the Mexican Consulate in Santa Ana that they immediately sent me a form to start the process.  Time will tell, nothing is easy in Mexico.  With the FM3 card I am allowed to bring down an entire household duty free.  The duty can be quite high.  Of course I have also been warned that even if the truck passes customs, the "corrupt fedaralis" can stop the truck and demand more money or simple take the goods or the entire truck.  You never know in Mexico.

The first thing I thought I could do was to paint some bright colors on the walls.  I have decided on green, yellow, peach and orange (just about what I have now). I know it sounds more like Bermuda than Mexico, but you will see, it will pull together.  I am still trying out different shades and have yet to settle of which colors I like.  Of course I wanted a "professional painter".  I have painted all my homes, but I have no equipment here.  What a shock when the paint store did not know of a "professional painter".  I think the problem is that every Mexican thinks he can paint.

My favorite bar tender (whom I regard as a close friend) suggested I hire an unemployed friend of his.  I was not crazy about the idea, but figured I could work with him to make sure he was not too messy and it would help him out.  I wanted to know what he charged by the hour.  He did not want to do that, but rather bid on the total job.  Not my plan, but I arrange to meet him at the apartment.  He arrived with another friend and they carefully measured every inch of the place, then took a long time to figure up the price.  It was 8,850 pesos, plus paint (a months salary to most Mexicans)  Keep in mind that it is a two day job (one for two professional painters).  After they picked me up off the floor they dropped it to 7.500 (what I pay for a months rent).  I said I would call them, but told my "bartender buddy" that the price was just to high so I was going to paint it myself.  In truth, I will have the "super" for the building paint the ceilings and laudry room (I don't trust him with the rest of it)  He offered to paint the entire apartment for 2800 pesos.  I know all Mexicans think that they are expected to rip on the "gringo" but if they were a little more reasonable, they would get more work.


The photos are the "before shots".  You will have to wait a while for the finished product as I am leaving for Turrkey a week after I move in.  I will order more equipali (pig skin) furniture and new drapes for the bedroom when I return.  You will also note that I do not have the view I had.  Mostly I just look at the streets, but there is an large abandoned garden directly across the street.  I think I will like it, mainly because it is exactly the location I wanted.

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THE FM3 CARD

If you are wondering why it has taken me so long to write another blog, it isn't because I am lazy (which I am) or because I am out of ideas (which is also true).  It is because my Internet has not been working except a few hours in the middle of the night or early in the morning.  When the company was called, they said, "we are working on it"  In Mexico that translates to "we do not have a clue".  This has been going on for almost a month.  It is Mexico!!

When you enter Mexico, you are given a six month visa.  With a FM3 card, you are considered a legal resident and can stay as long as you want.  Since I planned on returning every 4 or 5 months for doctors, etc.  I did not see the need for one.  Then I began to hear more reasons to apply.  You cannot open a bank account here without an FM3 (I have yet to decide if I need an account here).  As a senior you can use the card to apply for a discount on buses and Mexican Airlines.  Then I heard that within the first six months you can bring a whole household down here with no duty.  I do have "stuff I would like to have shipped down here, so after a friend of mine got his card, I decided to apply.

He paid a lawyer 1,800 pesos, plus fees to handle it for him.  My apartment manager said they had a lawyer who would handle it for 1,500.  Then a new friend told me that I could do it on my own and he would take me to the immigration office, and walk me through it.  How could I resist?

Part One was easy.  I waited only about 20 minutes for the "downstairs" lady" to go over my paper work.  I was told that among other items, I needed to copy every page of my passport.  The first thing she did was to rip off the first two pages and throw the rest away.  She gave me a form that had to be filled out in Spanish, told me a needed a "request letter' and gave me a bill of about $40.00.  You can't pay her, but must find a bank (about a half mile away), pay the bank and get a receipt, then make two copies of the receipt.  My friend then took me to a woman about a block down the street who filled out the form and printed out the letter for about $2.00.  Next the trek to the bank to get the receipt.

Once I had the receipt and the copies made across the street at an Internet cafe, I carried the paper work back to the "downstairs lady"  She looked over the paper work and gave me a number and sent me upstairs.  My number came up in about 15 minutes.  Every paper was stamped with something then he told me to check their web site for when the card was approved in about 10 days.

I found the web site, but of course it was all in Spanish, so I had a friend of mine check it.  Within one week, the web site said it was ready.  On my own, I managed to find the place and went to see the downstairs lady.  I waited for almost an hour for her to check my status and give me another bill that I had to take to the bank.  I raced off, but the bank wasn't operating.  It was open, but not working (maybe their computers).  A man told me to come back in two hours.  Since the Immigration place closed at 2:00, I had less than an hour.  He directed me down the street to the next bank.  I asked how far and he said it was "a couple of blocks"  I walked for 15 minutes and no bank.  Then I spotted an American walking toward me that looked like he lived here.  I asked him.  He said the bank in the direction I was headed was about a 30 minute walk, but there was one in the other direction.  I told him I was just there and the bank was not working.  He told me that there were three banks there. ( I guess the guy was directing me to one of their own branches.)  I raced back with less than 30 minutes to go.  I found the other bank, got my receipt, got the duplicate and raced back to Immigration.  I had 5 minutes to spare, but luckily once you are inside they continue to process you application.

It took about an hour, but I finally got my FM3 card.  I am now officially a Mexican resident.  I thought
this would make it easier to go in and out of Mexico.  No so!  Before I leave the country I have to go to an immigration office at the airport and get permission to leave (Nothing is easy in Mexico).   Now I must find out what kind of paper work I need to get my "stuff" sent here without paying duty on all of it.
I went back to the same "downstairs lady" and found out that there are forms I must get at the Customs office at the airport.  Stay tuned.......

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THEN THE RAINS CAME

In Puerto Vallarta, rain is legendary.  I heard tales of thunder and lighting displays that are unbelievable.  They have torrential rains that turn the streets into rivers.  There are no storm drains here, so the streets carry all the water (and dirt) from the mountains to the sea.  I did not know how much was true, but  I was looking forward to the "rainy season".

As the summer progressed, the temperatures rose; I began to pray for rain.  There had been some rain in the mountains that surround us, but not a drop in the village.  Each week, I was told, "It will rain next week" NOTHING!!  Then one night just as I was leaving my favorite bar, there was a light sprinkle.  It was not a real rain, but it did drop the temperature by about 20 degrees.  As soon as I got home, I took off my clothes and headed for the deck where I let the cool mist fall on my naked body. I loved it.   Don't get excited, I was wearing my underpants.  In the heat and humidity nothing is more comfortable than underwear.   After the "snow birds" across the street went back to wherever they came from, my deck is really private.  No sane person would ever want to look at my naked body anyway.
                                                                      
But then the sun came out and the humidity went up.  For the next week or so we had a few light mists, but not real rain.  Then one night after "happy hour"  I was headed for a little (cheap) side walk cafe around the corner.  Then it really began to pour.  I was under a little awning while I ate, so I was fine.  After paying my bill, I still had a full glass of beer (in a plastic cup) so I decided to walk home in the rain and finish my beer on the way.  Drinking in public is not only NOT against the law, it is a tradition here.  The rain felt good, but my sandals got soaked crossing the streets.  It rained all night long.

The next day, I ventured out anxious to see what the rain had done.  The trees and plants were washing clean and looked wonderful.  The sidewalks and streets were another thing.  There were mud puddles everywhere.  It takes about a month of rain to wash everything down (there is a lot of dirt here).  It has rained some almost every day, mostly at night.

Then one night I was awakened by a clap of thunder so loud it sounded like a bomb had gone off.  The lightning was so frequent it looked as if the street was being lit by strobe lights.  I went up to the deck.  The drain spouts were shooting water 3 or 4 feet into the street.  I love the sound of rain on a roof (as most people do).  But my building (which has a tile roof) is surrounded by commercial buildings with corrugated aluminum roofs.  You can not imagine the sound of several inches of rain an hour on all those tin roofs.  It sounded like the opening act of a Cirque de Soleil.  It rained all night and in the morning the trees on the mountains seemed to have greened up overnight (maybe it was just that the dirt was washed off)

The rain has continued for over a month, some of them fierce, but we have not had the 10 to 12 hours of rain that put the streets under two feet of water.  We'll have to wait and see if the tales are true.

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TIA JOSEPHINA

Yes, I am happily back in Mexico with the heat, humidity, and dirt, but this posting will not be about Mexico.  I am writing about my aunt's 100th birthday.  Don't fuss, I will get back to Mexico in fact I have two posting in the works.  This day was an important time in my life, so I thought you might be interested in it.

She is not really Tis Josephina, nor is she even Josephine, but just plain Jo.  Yet there is nothing plain about this remarkable woman.  She is, in fact, the most extraordinary woman I have ever known.  Not just because she has survived in such good shape for 100 years, and not because she was (and still it) a great beauty.  She is also one of the brightest people you will meet.  She still handles all of her own finances and investment (and does extremely well at it).  She follows fashion (Vogue, etc) politics, and all news.

She is also one of the kindest woman (the staff at her "home" all love her).  She has been a surrogate mother to me since my own mother died almost 50 years ago.  I think my favorite of her many traits is her quick wit  and a bawdy sense of humor.  Now, about her family.

She only had one son (who is in much worse shape than she is), three grandsons, two great grandchildren, and three great, great grandchildren.  All but one attended the party, along with their wives and significant others.  Like many large families, there are some feuds (some had not spoken to each other in many years) yet all seemed to gather around for her celebration.  Also attending were her younger (now deceased) sister's two children.  One I had not seen in 55 years.  Her niece (my cousin) seems to be the only one in the family to have inherited her genes.  I know she is close to my age, but she looks barely 45 or 50.

The highlight of the day was a slide show prepared by her youngest grandson.  It started with photos of my grandfather as a child, and when he was on the KU football team in 1896.  There were photos all through her long life including a lot of photos when she was modeling.  After leaving modeling, she became the top Realtor in her area, outselling every other Realtor.  I was delighted to see that the show also included my favorite photo of Serge.  It must have been a lot of work putting it all together and he deserves a great deal of credit for it.

We were all worried about her over tiring herself, so shortly after the slide show and cake, she was escorted back to her room.  She later said, that it ended much too soon and she was left with a "where did every body go?)  We assume she rested up for the party, but she really wanted it to go on for several more hours.

I have included a picture of her portrait that hangs in my bedroom in Mexico (how it wound up there is too long a story).  Then a photo I took at her party.  Yes, she does look older, but there is almost 50 years between the two pictures.  She is totally recognizable while my passport photo from just 20 years ago looks like another person.

She has not seen this posting (she has yet to master the computer) but she has seen other photos from the party and she was appalled.  She could not believe how old she looked and said she thought she looked like 'an old woman"  (at 100 you might ask??)  I told her it was her beautician fault.  I guess trying to do something special she gave her all those "old lady curls".  I told her that a simpler "do" would have made her look much younger.  You will see that I am right when I take a photo of her 110th birthday (assuming I am still alive)

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SPANISH CLASS

All along I knew that I would have to learn some Spanish.  After some inquiring, I was told about some Language Schools and some suggested a private tutor (too expensive and I wanted the interaction of a class).  There are a lot of schools here (mostly teaching English) but none are near me and I was afraid that the classes would be in the evening and thus interfere with my "cocktail hour".

Then my martini swilling drinking buddies told me that they were taking a class at a small social club just two blocks from my apartment.  I stopped by, for I pass it on my way to the gym to inquire about the classes.  I was told that the ongoing classes were advanced and that I should wait for a beginner's class to begin.  When would this occur?  They were not sure, maybe 4 to 6 weeks depending on how many people signed up.  I gave them my name, number and address and asked them to let me know.  I tried talking to my friend who has lived here for two years.  In spite of the fact that he knows almost no Spanish, and can't even pronounce the name of the streets, he had no interest.

I noticed that the club had posted some signs advertising the new Spanish class and assumed they were still trying to get more people interested.  I intended to stop by periodically, then a little more than a week after my first visit, I noticed one of the posters had fallen on the sidewalk.  I took it inside only to discover that indeed classes were starting the following day.  Why didn't someone call me?  You get the Mexican shrug.

I did make it a little before ten the following morning, barely conscious.  The previous night had been the night of the exploding church with all the fire works.  After the nine bells finally stopped I had a glass of wine (or maybe two) to calm my nerves so I could get back to sleep.  So, I was not too disappointed when we were told that the instructor could not make it and classes would start the following day at 9:30.  Why didn't someone call me?  Mexican shrug.   There was only one other woman there and she was quite upset for she had Pilate's class the following morning.

I was there early and eager and found there was only one other guy there (the Pilate's woman never showed up again).  We started with pronunciation.  It seems that Spanish has a lot of double vowels and each are to be pronounced.  Unlike French, every letter is to be pronounced, which makes it a little easier.  We progressed to vocabulary, adjectives, and one verb.  I was happy there were only two of us for we got the maximum of attention, but I did mention the class to another friend.  He started the next day.  At first I thought I had made a mistake for the two of them had lived here for years and knew a lot of Spanish,  I knew none.  So, I had to study twice as hard to keep and and in the long run it helped me.

A local bar has started a "conversation class" for its clients.  It seemed like a good idea, but I did not get much out of the first meeting (maybe because I consumed four beers).  To be honest, I have as much trouble understanding the instructors English, let alone his Spanish.  But people do converse and if I sit there long enough (and cut down on the alcohol) I hope to pick up something.

I am proud to say that I have graduated from beginning class and will begin the advanced.  That does frighten me a little for that group has been studying together since January.  I have had to learn hundreds of words and although I can only speak in the present tense, I do get by.  In fact I have finally (after almost 6 months) managed to get bottled water delivered on my own.  For some reason I never had any problem getting alcohol (ODD).

A NOTE TO MY READERS:

I will be taking the rest of the summer off.  Frankly I am running out of topics and I am not as funny as I used to be (as evidnced by the drop off in my readership)  I will be attending my aunt's 100th birthday in July and will be back in California in October to prepare for my trip to Turkey.  So I not sure when I resume my blogs.  Of course,  I might come back sooner by "popular demand" if more or you wrote to tell me you miss me.  Until then, "Hasta Luego"

ON DRINKING

Not long after I arrived here, a friend wrote and asked me if "drinking" was a part of the culture in Mexico.  I answered with a resounding YES!!  Since then I have learned just how much.

One can assume that the natives in Mexico had alcohol long before the Spanish arrived with their wine.  Tequila and Raicilla are both made from a regional cactus.  So getting drunk here goes way back.  There doesn't appear to be any laws about drinking.  It is quite common to see men (never women; they drink at home) walking down the street with a plastic cup of beer, or a whole bottle.  You also see people in cars with bottles or cans of beer, including the driver.  The Mexicans love to party and booze is a big part of their parties.  One morning I saw hundreds of bottles strewn all over Plaza Cardenas left over from some other festivity that I also missed.

The Malecon is just one long line of bars where the tourists get loaded.  Every street in Puerto Vallarta has four of five bars and most corners have a tiny grocery store that sells liquor.  Occasionally you will see some guy passed out on the sidewalk.  He isn't really homeless, he just could not make it home.

The ex patriots who live here full time, or just spend the winters here have taken up the culture of drinking with abandon.  In the Zona Romantica where I live there are "neighborhood' bars and everyone has their favorite, but pub crawls are also the norm.  The most popular is Apache's.  Unlike most bars, they do not open until 5:00.  During the height of the season, if you want a seat outside, you had better arrive at 4:00 when they start putting out the tables and chairs.  Well we really don't have anything to do, so people congregate in the afternoons at bars.  Now you understand why I try to occupy my time with Spanish, the gym, and adopting parks.

Each bar has their "happy hour" when drinks are cheaper.  Some places like Apache's offer "two for one" which means if you slip over to the third drink, you are stuck for a fourth (it is free, right?)  Yes, I must admit many nights  I have staggered home after four Margaritas.  But compare to some people here who will drink all day and into the night, I look like a teetotaler.

There are also night clubs and discos that don't even open until 10:00 at night.  I have never been to one, but I am told that they don't really get busy until after midnight and you can drink until dawn.  Luckily it is cheap to drink here, especially during "happy hour"  when a bottle of beer is about $1.00 and a blended strawberry margarita can be had for as little as $2.50.  Apache"s is a little more up scale, but at two for one, you can still get pretty drunk for not much money.

I don't want to leave you with the impression that I am a total souse that you will one day find lying on the sidewalk, or curled up in some door way.  For one thing, I never drink far from home.  I don't start drinking until about 5:00 when Happy Hour starts (unless, of course I am at the beach).  I usually leave by the end of Happy Hour (about 7:00).  I may have a glass or two of white wine when I do get home, but HEY I am already home.  Also, maybe you can understand why these Blogs don't always get out on time.

PLAZA CARDENAS

Three short blocks away,  my street runs into a large plaza.  It is the largest plaza this side of the river, but I had never paid much attention to it until my coffee shop reopened on the square.  It always reminded me of a small Pershing Square because of the underground parking garage.  Nothing of any note surrounds the square..  It is where I saw the dance group led by the drag queen and where I saw the body of Christ being led up the street.  All of which I would have missed had I not been at my coffee shop.

A friend of mine who was visiting told me it used to be one of the most beautiful parks in Puerto Vallarta.  There were lots of trees and lush tropical plants.  Now it is mostly concrete with some planters.  Like all squares in Mexico there is a large gazebo and at one end is a small amphitheater.  Fortunately they managed to save the large trees from the old park, and I guess the large statue of Mr. Cardenas ( I have to assume that for their is no plaque on it)  The planters have grass and small shrubs now.  But the grass is dead and many of the small palms and shrubs are dying.

About five years ago, someone came up with the "brilliant" idea of putting a garage under it, so the old park was dug up.  Never mind that Mexicans won't pay for parking and most gringos either walk or take cabs.  The parking lot is almost always totally empty.  The one good idea they had was to put in public bathrooms; something this town could use judging from the smell of the side walks.   But alas the entrance to the bath rooms is locked.  You can see the signs giving you the times of day it is open, but you may not be able to see the padlock on the gate.  I have never seen it open.

Then someone (maybe the same someone) came up with another "brilliant" idea.,  Lets build a huge building with commercial and residential to create a need for parking.  So there is this enormous building that takes up the entire block facing the plaza and rising over eight stories high.  It too is completely empty.  You can see the condos with balconies that would either over look the park, of from the higher floors the ocean; none are occupied.  The story I heard is that the builder used beach sand in the concrete to save money and as a result the salt is already eroding the concrete.  The City says, it must be torn down to the ground.  Someone did not pay off the right person.

Whoever built that enormous structure must have lost a fortune, the garage makes no money for it is always empty, so no one will pay to water the park.  They city says it is the responsibility of the garage and the garage refuses.  So, the plants continue to die.

Then I came up with my own "brilliant" idea.  For some time I have thought of volunteering for some kind of charity work. Something to fill my time between going to the beach, the gym, Spanish class, shopping, and of course my "pub crawls".  But I can't stand being around old people (they are much too cranky);  children make me nervous, and I faint at the sight of a needle.  I do love animals, but the shelter is clear across town and I see enough dog poop on the side walks.  I have no real skills or talent (which made finding a job pretty iffy as well), so what could I do.  Then it came to me,  I will adopt a park!!

One thing I am good at is watering, but where would I get the water.  I can't even get bottled water delivered to my apartment, how could I come up with enough water for a park?  Then, I thought I will start my own charity to "Save the Park"  The regulars from my coffee shop when it was on Olas Altos certainly looked wealthy and when they find out that it is now located on this square I am sure they would be sympathetic.  But they all flew North (along with my hummingbirds) and won't be back until November or December.  Of course the rainy season will occur before they get back here.  The truth is I am basically lazy, so, I have decided just to pray for an early rain.

LOOSE ENDS

After more than twenty posts (I am as surprised as you are) it seemed like a good idea to go back over some of the Blogs that left some questioned unanswered. 

While I still enjoy my little apartment, I have decided to move when the lease is up in December.  I want a quieter street and something more suitable for guests.  I have had one guest and it worked out fine except for the sofa bed (which is a hassle to move and open) and the noise on the street was almost more than my friend could stand.  I am looking at some of the dead end streets off B. Badillo (but that will wait a few months).   Since I quit spending money buying stuff for my apartment I have managed to live within my budget.

 The plants are all thriving (those that I didn't kill).  The hibiscus is amazing with blooms over 10 inches across.  The yellow vine finally started along the trellis and had covered it almost completely from one end to the other.  Then one day while trimming back the mint I cut one vine off at the root (I was very unhappy with myself ,and NO I was not drunk.)

The clock on the bell tower has been started and restarted half a dozen times.  It runs for a few days, but has said 8:15 for over a month.  The bells still drive me crazy.  I guess during weddings they ring all nine of them at once.  Explosions (gun, fire crackers ??) are more frequent and oddly enough are almost always followed by the bells.   More of this later..

The baby "iguanas" turned out to be geckos.  They never got much bigger and remained the same ugly grey pink.  I now have a whole family of them up there pooping on the wall.  Now, I think they may be coming inside at night for I have found what look like "droppings". I no longer leave a light on for them to catch bugs,  I would really like to get rid of them. Since I live in a cage with no solid doors, dirt and dust freely flow in and also critters can freely come and go.  (But I don't want to think about that or I will go crazy).  Within one week the dozens of hummingbirds went down to two or three (maybe they fly north from here).  The feeder began to leak honey all over the deck so I took it down.  Next winter I will try again.

I thought I had the buses down to a science then got on the wrong bus on my way to pick up my money from Telecable (Yes, it took four months and dozens of calls and visits, but I did finally get it).  Half way there I looked out and did not recognize anything.  I realized I was on a different street so the only thing I could think to do was to wait until I recognized something.   It was the Sheraton Hotel.  I got off and started walking inland hoping to find a street or something I knew.  Finally a No. 3 bus came by that said "El Centro"  I thought it would take me back home, but it was headed in the opposite direction.  After four buses and two and a half hours I got to Telecable to collect my money.

Regular bottled water delivery still eludes me.  I have had maybe a dozen one time deliveries.  Each time I tip them more than the cost of the water and ask them to return next week.  NOTHING!!  Even the manager of my building is baffled.  One explanation might be that the leather goods store hangs a leather poncho over my street number, but that would not explain how they deliver the first time.  .

Of all the day trips, Boca remains my favorite.  (It was also the cheapest and the closest) but I intend to seek out more new places to visit.  The gym is going quite well.  The "smiling Adonis" (whose name turns out to be David) has spent hours teaching me new exercises.  Last week he said that next we would work on my legs.  I looked at him and said,  "My legs are the only good muscles I have got.  Do these look like 74 year old legs to you?"  He laughed.  The truth is I hate leg exercises (but I do have good looking legs).  I have just started my Spanish class (it may be my next blog).

I still go to the beach, but only about once a week.  I fear it may get too hot for me as summer approaches.  My fans run all day and night and I can't sleep with out air conditioning and it is only May!!  What will August be like?  I still enjoy it here, everyday is a new adventure.  I also solved another mystery.  Every evening a boy in green pants runs down the street banging on a gong.  He is announcing the arrival of the trash truck, so you had better bring your garbage to the designated corner.  It is a primitive system, but it works.  Kind of like Mexico.

It is still difficult crossing the "pot holed" cobble stone streets with out being hit by a truck or bus.  The urine soaked sidewalks are still an offense, but the new sidewalk on B. Badillo turned out very nice.  There are now four blocks of new wide sidewalks and planters.  Some of the small plants have disappeared (I think they are stolen) but the trees are all doing well.  In a few years it should look beautiful, but unfortunately the Mexicans have yet to figure out underground utilities. 

Mexican love to celebrate as much as they love noise.  Most remain a mystery to me like the one this week.  I was awakened about 11:00 at night by a series of whistling fireworks and cherry bombs.  It went on for a half an hour.  The street in front of the church looked like a bonfire was going on.  It ended with several blasts of what appeared to be shot gun blasts into the sky, followed by all 9 bells ringing.  The street between me and the church has been closed all week to accommodate a traveling carnival of kids rides.  It has to have some sort of religious connotation, but I am not sure.  David  (at the gym) said he thought it might be a celebration for the parton saint of that church.   It occurred on May 3rd, so it had nothing to do with Cinco de Mayo  (Unless their calendar is as goofy as their clock).  Nothing happened on the 5th of May.

We also just had Labor Day.  Just as in the U.S. it is to commemorate the plight of the working class and all banks, federal buildings, schools,  and most shops close for the day.  Only this year it occurred on a Sunday when they are closed anyway, so I don't know who it benefits unless they let the priests go home early.   Most of Mexico remains a mystery to me.  Ya gotta love her, like a lover, warts and all.

NOTE TO MY READERS:  In my Easter Week blog I only made a brief reference to the dance group that was led by a drag queen.  An organization sponsoring Puerto Vallarta as a safe and fun place to visit have released a video of the performance that I watched.  I think you will find it very entertaining.  Check it out at http://dai.ly/k2IQHD.