MY TYPICAL DAY

It is still dark here at seven in the morning.  Not until about 7:30 does it begin to get light and the sun doesn't rise over the mountain for another hour.  Therefore getting up early is out of the question (as if I would anyway).  What amazes me most about my life here is that I am busy doing something every day.  I thought I would have plenty of time to read and write.  I have not opened a book and never touched my novel.

I'll have my first couple of cups of coffee (and cigarette) upstairs on the terrace (you will note, it is no longer a roof top deck).  I make my rounds of all the plants to check for new growth or a new flower coming out.   The hummingbirds are out at the first light of day, fighting for a spot at the feeder.  I love watching them.  They are not only different colors, but have different personalities.  Some are very aggressive chasing every other bird away.  Some will patiently wait on the fence for an opening, and one female just sits there sipping away, totally ignoring the fight going on around her.  By the way, the clock on the church steeple has now stopped competely, but the bells go on.

Later I will turn on the computer and TV to watch the news on CNN.  I check my messages, but usually don't answer them until later (some mornings I am simply not capable).  Usually I will cook some eggs, but some mornings I go out for breakfast.  The patio at La Hacienda is my favorite.

Some time each day I go for a latte at my favorite coffee shop.  Once a week I will splurge on a newspaper (it costs more than a triple latte).  They are always one day old, and the guy will try to sell you one that is 2 or 3 days old.  Other days I go over my Day Timer (yes, I know how "old hat" that is).  I make out my "to do list" (usually short) and my grocery list.

There are four local stores I visit for my shopping.  I walk a lot, at least a mile or two a day. While walking to the various stores, I try to walk down different streets.  I poke into little shops and boutiques and the side walk vendors looking for another piece of Mexican folk art that I think I cannot live without (usually one a week).   At least once a week I will take the bus to Costco or Walmart or Mega (the biggest store) and that takes up a good part of the day.

About twice a week I go to the beach (more on that in a later post).  In the afternoons, I will do my e-mail and work on my Blog posts.   Each evening I take my glass of wine up to the terrace to first watch the hummingbirds and later the baby iguanas.  Some days I will go out for "Happy Hour", but do not go out late.  I don't eat out more than once a week (I have got to find something else to cook besides chicken breasts)  My attempts at real cooking have not turned out well.  The kitchen is gorgeous, but very poorly equipt and I am not used to metric weights yet. 

Whether I have been out or stayed at home,  I end each evening up on the terrace with my last glass of wine.  The day passes quickly and then another week.  It is hard to believe that I have been here for two months already.

My Apartment

The apartment could have been a little larger.  In fact, had the living area been just one foot wider, the sofa bed would open with moving to the middle of the room.  I did see a larger and cheaper place but it was entirely open; I mean really open.  It only had three walls.  The upstairs patio was enormous with a bar that would accomodate at least six people; definately a party pad.  I just could not imagine living with out four walls.  Ncver mind security (there was none) but you would be totally exposed to the dust and dirt from the street.

Mine is on the third and fourth floor above a leather goods shop and next to a tile factory.  The kitchen is new with lots of granite, but it had no over counter storage at all.  I bought a Mexican style open cabinet with shelves to display my green Mexcian glass and new pottery.  The living area consisted of an ugly dark brown sofa and two plastic chairs.  I covered the sofa with a light green and yellow serrape and ordered two equipauli (pig skin) chairs and three small tables.  For the bedroom I bought an "L" shaped glass and chrome desk were I do my writing and book work.  There was a large dresser that I moved to an area off the kitchen.  Of course I added bunches of Mexican paper flowers and those bright colorful ceramic chilies.  There was some really awful stuff hanging on the wall (like way too many Virgin Marys) but that has all been replaced with Mexican folk art.

The bedspread and drapes were a dark, dark red.  I had a new duvet made in a bright green and had new drapes made of a green, yellow and orange fabric with a pattern of iquanas.  The biggest change came with the addition of 16 potted plants.  Lots of palms, ferns, some hybiscus and that vine with yellow flowers that is everywhere.  Nothing says home to me more than a house and patio full of green plants.  The view I have already shown you is the good side. To the west was a mess of ugly black roofs and some unfinished buildings, so I put up a trellis.

The floors are tile and the bedroom has a heavy beamed ceiling with red tile slate.  There is also a balcony across the front where I put some of those yellow things to vine along the wrought iron.  There is lots of wrought iron, starting with the door on the street (but it has a glass panel).  At a landing on the staircase is another gate.  There is a gate to by balcony and when you climb the spiral staircase to the terrace, you end up in a large cage (green plants have softened the look).  Every morning I unlock the gates and everynight I lock myself in.  I feel like a warden in a prison, or a zoo keeper, but for the moment, I am happy here.

PV in General

After reviewing my first couple of posts, I am afraid you may have the misconception that I don't like it here.  I am loving it; new adventures (or problems) every day.  Yes, there are a lot of adjustments necessary (starting with your attitude).   It is not the same as living in the states.  There are items that we consider as essential that are either hard to find or impossible.  When you do think you have found something you need, it turns out not to be anything like what you expected.  What passes for Saran wrap here is unuseable.  After struggling for some time to get a piece out of the carton, you wind up with a wadded ball of plastic in your hand.  I don't know what they make their paper products out of here.  Paper towels, napkins, Kleenex all appear to made out of toilet paper.  They all disintegrate when exposed to any moisture at all.  And they are surprisingly not absorbent.  When you try to wipe up some water on a counter you find that all that happens is that you spread the water across the counter.   Although we have Wallmart, Costco, Home Depot and supermarkets, no one store will have everything you need.

There is a sort of open air farmers market that I like to go to.  Everything is fresh and comes in each morning (if you don't get there in the afternoon, a lot of stuff will be gone).  The fruits and vegetables don't look as pretty, but they are tasty (I advise washing everything before eating).  But we have a new market called Los Mercados.  Everything there is gorgeous and still cheap considering what we pay at home.  It is the one place you can buy good meat, fresh bakery and fruits and vegetables.  The Mexicans say, "It is where the white people shop".  The tomatoes are awsome.

There are somethings that I will never adjust to, like the smell of urine soaked into the sidewalks (I keep hoping it is dog piss).  Fighting dust and dirt took me a while, but I am no longer surprised when I take one of those awful paper towels to wipe something up and it comes up black.  You really should mop the tile floors every day (I do not).   I can not find the mops that have its own devise for wringing it out.  So there I am with a plastic pail full of hot water, wringing the mop out by hand.  The good news is that the floor drys quickly here.

The Mexicans certainly appear to be happy fun loving people.  They are hard working and basically honest (I have only been ripped off twice and it was my own fault or stupidity)  You can get by in the major shops and restaurants without Spanish, but this is not true in all stores.  I am amazed at the lack of English in a city that survives almost totally on tourism (Yes, I am working on my Spanish).  Sometimes you think they understand when they answer, "Si".  In truth they have no idea what you just said.

Since I live in a commercial district (with buses every other minute) adjusting to the constant noise takes a while.  The good thing about living in the commercial district is that trash is picked up every night.  No, you do not put a trash can on the curb.  There are designated corners where you drop bags of trash (garbage).  They never heard of Demspty Dumpsters (or trash cans, I guess).  Most people are pretty good about tying up their bags, but after the garbage truck leaves there will be trash left in the street.  You learn to ignore it and just step over it.

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PV Animals

Yes, there really are iguanas and other brilliantly colored lizards living here.  They are everywhere.  My first sighting was while walking across the bridge over the River Caule (yes, that is the name of the main river of Puerto Vallarta.  He was at the very top on one of the many trees that grow along the river banks.  He was at least 3 feet long and had bright orange spikes down his back.  He looked so big and heavy you wonder how he made it to the very top of the tree.  Then I spotted a lime green and yellow one in the stair well of my friend's apartment.

So, I was delighted when shortly after moving into my new apartment to discover a family of small iguana crawling across my patio wall.  I know they are babies for they are less than three inches long and still pink.  I can't be sure they are iguanas yet, but I do think it is a family for I have seen three at once on the wall.  There is a light over my washing machine (what looks like plain telephone cord mysteriously comes out of the stucco wall) and the bare bulb attacts insects.  Frankly I am amazed at how few flies or insects there are here (maybe the iguanas eat them all)  I am hoping that situation doesn't change too much my summer.  Anyway, the tiny lizards will slowly circle the light bulb and suddenly jump.  I assume they caught something for they appear to happily stroll away.  Every night I turn on that bulb (even though I have much prettier lanterns on the patio) and watch them circle or just patiently waiting for a meal.

Then one morning I found one of the baby lizards in my sink.  He appeared to pop right up out of the drain (but I don't want to think about that)  I was still on my first cup of coffee and my head had not yet cleared from last night's margaritas.  The easiest solution would be to flush him down the garbage disposal, but luckily for him it was too early in the morning and my stomach would not have handled it well.  After a few tries I managed to capture him in an old plastic container and take him up to the deck where I deposited him in a potted palm.  I hope he was of the same family or at least gets along with his brothers and sisters.  When they grow up I will let you know what color they turn out to be.

Of course there are lots of birds, but no parrots or macaws.  I am told that they have all been captured and sold.  There are some pretty yellow wrens, but most of the birds are your ordinary sea gulls or black birds.  There is a group of small dark birds that circle overhead, but I can't tell what they are.  One of the first things I did was to put up a humming bird feeder.  It took them a few days to find it, but now I must have about a dozen fighting over it.  I love to watch them buzz bomb each other.  Oddly enough (or maybe not) the tiny females seem to dominate.  Some are that iridescent blue and green, but some are orange and there is a larger variety that has black and white markings.

Dogs are everywhere.  It appears most people living here have a dog and the predominate one is the chiuaua.  Then there are the dogs that roam the streets and appear homeless.  They almost look as if they had the same father (a mutt).  For they are about the same size (medium) with short hair and shades of black and brown.  They also all have the same sad look.  They walk very slowly with their head down as if they are depressed.  I guess being born a dog in Mexico is not the same as being born a dog in, say Beverly Hills.

PV buses

A bus ride is an experience.  It is a cheap way to travel long distances.  The cost is 6.50 pesos, or about fifty cents.  There are no transfers, but you can stay on it for a long time.  I wouldn't advise a ride over about 30 minutes.  No one with hemorrhoids or a bladder problem should ever step on a bus (let alone someone with a weak heart).  If they were built with shocks, they died a long time ago.  Many buses have brakes that grind and scream.  It is amazing that manage to stop at all.  Of course you have the musicians, singers, and just plain drunks getting aboard to ask for money.  Pets are allowed, not just dogs but farm animals too.

You would not believe how fast these rickety old buses can go.  There are not only huge bolders to drive over, but something that resembles speed bumbs.  I assume that was their purpose as there are rows of large stones or metal bumbs.  When a speeding driver hits one of them you can be thrown a foot off your seat.  Always hang on, even when seated.  Try not to be the last to get on (even if you have to squeeze by some old lady).  As soon as the last passenger puts one foot on the bus, they will take off.  If you haven't gotten to your seat, hang on for dear life until the next stop as you will be thrown all over the bus.  .  The drivers will also race each other down the street at amazing speeds trying to pass one another.  Some times it looks like they are inches from a collision.  Getting off is tricky too.  There are little red buttoms sometimes over the exit door (not an easy reach on a speeding bus).  They won't stop just because you stood up and managed to get to the exit door.  You have to push the buttom.  Sometimes the buttons are over certain seats causing you to reach over two people to press it.  If you are lucky there will be one on the post by the door.  Like I said, it is a real trip.

Now selecting a bus can be as challenging as riding on one.  Don't depend on finding a bus stop sign (many have long since disappeared).  Just look for a group of people who look like they don't know each other standing on a curb.  Basically you are looking for a blue or green bus for they go in different directions.  The problem is that there are as many as a dozen blue buses and maybe six green ones, each having a different destination.  Signs are painted in white on the window (like Wallmart, Costco, or Hotel District).  Some signs look like someone just dipped their finger in a paint can and printed.  I managed to figure it out, but always remember which bus you arrived on, or you might not get back.
Just to confuse matters there are also the tour buses, cruise line buses, and charter buses, plus some large white ones.  The white ones have no signs painted on the window and appear to be in better condition.  I just don't know where they go.  The blue and green buses are so old and rusty that sometimes you can watch the payment speed by through cracks in the floor.

PV part 2

I arrived with four suitcases, my computer, pass port bag, and a huge cardboard box containing a painting.  It was the card board box that got me pulled over.  I didn't really mind the "Policio" pawing through all my luggage or their removal of several cartons of cigarettes.  It was that I had to lift forty pound bags up to table height.  No one would help, even when I asked nicely, after all I am an old man.   By back and arms did not recover for weeks.

Finding an apartment was my first challege.  Naturally I arrived at the wrong time; it was "high season".  Most apartments were recently rented, or they were asking very high prices for the next few months.  I did find some really cheap ones, but they were like tombs.  Most of them are long and narrow with maybe one window at each end, leaving much of the rooms in darkness.  I like sun light (well maybe you wouldn't know that based upon my general disposition).  You don't want to use a Realtor for they won't handle anything under $1,000 a month.  I was looking for cheap.

Each day I would leave my friends home and walk up and down the streets writing telephone numbers of the "Se rente" signs.  Finally one called back that sounded promising.  It was just four block to the beach and practically over one of the bars I liked.  Everything was covered with sheets as the whole apartment was being repainted.  Two walls were lime green, two peach, and the bedroom a bright orange (very Mexican).  It was the kitchen that sold me on it.  The kitchen was not only new with granite counters and a new stove, but it had a dishwasher and garbage disposal (a real rarity here).  Maybe I should have lifted more of the sheets for it looked much smaller with out them.  I also liked the private roof top patio (in spite of the washing machine, tanks for gas and water, and two airconditioners.  It is small (you have to move the sofa bed to the middle of the room to open it) but I like it.

Looking to the east, you see beautiful mountains covered in palm trees and other jungle plants.  To the west are black (dirty) roof tops and squaller.  But if you look above that you see part of the city (even the crown of the main cathedral).  From my bedroom balcony I can lean forward and look down the street to the ocean.  Jutting up against the green mountain is a church bell tower, with a clock on top.  It took me about a week to realize that the time was off by two hours and twenty minutes (no one pays much attention to time here anyway).   It works, it just doesn't tell the right time.  The church is only a block away and the bell tower does chime.  At first you think it would be telling the time of day, but there are too many chimes.  It rings once, twice, or three times slowly, then twenty chimes in rapid succession, then the one, two, or three bongs.  I was told it was to summon people to the service, but that doesn't explain why it goes on all day.  On Sunday it starts at 6:00am.

Puerto Vallarta Part 1

This Blog is a journal of my self imposed exile in Puerto Vallarta.  How did a nice guy with a moniker like Lagunalary wind up living in a third world country is a long story.  I may tell you in time, but for now I would like to begin with my first impressions of living in Mexico.

Immediately you realize that you will have to get used to the sights, sounds, and smells of Mexico.  Some are pretty; some are pretty awful.  Cobble stones for example look nice, until you have walked over them for a few days.  The uneven pavement, pots holes, slippery bolders will make you fondly remember our black macadam highways.  Sidewalks (such as they are) are even more of a hazard.  They are not only extremely uneven, but also have pot holes and sudden drop offs.  You must watch every step (and then there is the dog poop).  The city has made an attempt to improve their walks by tearing out the old and replacing with wide side walks with a sort of serpent design in small black pebbles.  As soon as the concrete is dry they begin to dig holes in it.  Why what ever they are doing wan't done first remains one of the mysteries of Mexico.  When they do fill the holes they just dump concrete in the hole.  No attempt is made to smooth it over, let alone continue with the serpent design.  The also never bother to block off the fresh concrete so people, dogs, cats walk right through it.

When you need to cross a street is when you really have to be alert, as it is a real hazzard.  Not so much because of the cobble stones and pot holes, but because of cars.  They have the right of way.  Never expect a car to stop for you.  They might not even stop if they hit you (and if they did you might be liable for damage to their car).  Pedestrians are at the bottom of the food chain here.  Now intersections are really interesting.  There are a few stop signs, but never assume that cars will stop.  Many times they just blow right through them.  How drivers figure out who goes first is another mystery.  It looks like survival of the fittest, with the bolder, older cars pushing their way through.  Some times so many cars attempt to get throught that they cause total grid lock.  Always someone will hammer on their horn (as if someone up front had fallen asleep).  Mexican drivers are crazy, but I would never say one was asleep at the wheel.  There are also a few signal lights, but don't think that the green is for you.  It is for the cars.  They will turn left or right (sometimes two at a time) in front of you and rarely do they signal a turn.  I found that the safest thing is to cross a red light when there are no cars coming from that direction.

Loud noises are a given.  By the time you think you have adjusted to the constant bump and rattle of the cars and buses, a dune bugger or motorcycle will screece by.  All this pales to the vendors.  They have speakers or megaphone on top of their trucks and shout at a level that would wake the dead (and certainly those still asleep in the morning).  The truck selling propane gas is the worst and he does come early in the morning.  Then of course there are the totally unexplained explosions.  Was it a gun shot, a fire cracker, a tire blowing out, or what?  No one seems to know or care.  People are always yelling and singing in the streets, sometimes in the middle of the night.  Mexicans seem to love noise.