MY MEXICAN PIED A TERRE

This is the posting you have been waiting for. Finally the: pictures of my newly completed apartment.  Only after three months, it is still not finished. Nothing happens quickly in Mexico.   For those of you who have fussed that I do not have enough photos, this one has too many pictures.   The location is a couple of blocks east of where the "snow birds" and visiting tourist frequent, but it is a very respectable neighborhood.  Besides the fish taco restaurant, there are two upscale clothing stores.   The street is one of the few remaining original streets where the cobble stones were laid in sand in a pattern.  Most of the streets now are concrete where they have thrown in some stones for effect.  Of course  it had  lots of pot holes (like most streets here) and I expected one day to find out that they had either dumped concrete in the holes or worse yet asphalt.  To my delight and amazement a group of men arrived dug up the street and relaid the cobble stones in sand and matching the original pattern.

The exterior is quite plain and unassuming (which I like).  It does not look like a place where a rich American would live here (I am not rich, but everyone assumes I am).  The starkness of the outside makes the impression of brilliant color even more impressive when you open the door.  Yes, it is much smaller than my spacious former apartment, (made even smaller by all the furniture I have crammed in it),  but I love it!  It does have an extra bedroom (if I ever have a guest again).   Two of the things I like best are having my own door on the street and the large private deck.  Of course just getting out of the Little House of Horrors would make anything seem wonderful.  Mexico is a noisy place and the bells on the church tower are really loud, but all in all it is so much quieter than my old place (with the exception of an occasional grenade!).

I did use pretty much the same color scheme (when you have a winning combination, why change?)  I did add blue and the yellow and green are far brighter and more brilliant. You will also notice that I did incorporate some of the furniture I had brought down from storage. I also had a few pieces from my previous apartments.   The two straw chairs I used at the breakfast counter at the old apartment went outside on the balcony.  I added the two bar stools and also more equipauli (pig skin furniture).  I needed someplace to read (when I have time) and with the lamp table, it made the perfect reading spot.  I ordered the chairs and table a month before I left for the States and they assured me that I would have it in 10 days.  I knew I wouldn't get it that fast, so I waited over two weeks and went back.  It would be delivered the next Monday.  No, and when I returned from my trip, it was still not ready.  After a total of six trips I was finally told why they were not ready.   They could not get a piece of leather large enough to do the high backs that I wanted.  Why they did not tell me that two and a half months earlier, I do not know. They offered to return my money.  So I decided to go to Bucerios (the only other place I knew of where they made the furniture) and start all over again.  They said that they "could" do the high back chairs, but they would cost over 3,000 pesos each! (I paid 750 pesos for the usual ones).  I was not asking for something totally out of reason, for I had seen them with  the high backs.  But they did have two old padded ones.  The arms and seat were padded and they were quite comfortable, so I bought them on the spot.  In Mexico you reach a point were the fight is just not worth it, so you settle for less than what you wanted.  That is just the way it is here.

The royal blue sofa to complete my living room area, still alludes me.  I guess I will have to have it made. 
I also had to buy a dresser for the bedroom (as this apartment has no drawers anywhere).  I was very excited when I found the mirror at the consignment store around the corner to put above it. .  Of course I used the same drapes and colors to match the bedspread.  The guest room had to start from scratch.  Since it is half the size of my room,  It is very sparsely furnished, except for the elaborately carved desk I bought from a friend of mine.  The mirror was there, I just added the frame.  I decided to name it the "Monk's room" and put a cross over the bed.

My favorite space is my cabana upstairs.  The plants all seem to love it and I have added even more.  It will take a year, but I think I can make the bougainvillea crawl across the whole railing.  I really love the blue and white pot that matches my ceramic light fixtures.  I bought a tiny bougainvillaea for it, but it will grow too.   The tall dead stick will be a gorgeous Hawaiian halcyon with two foot red and yellow flowers.  My friend had a forest of them in one pot and divided it and gave me two bulbs.   I had the canvas drops made to hide the laundry area.    There was only one light on the deck and it was on the wall opposite my cabana.  In order to turn it on, you had to cross the deck in the dark and find the switch behind the washer.  This would not do, so I told my electrician to add two lights in the cabana with a switch inside the door.  I came back one day and it was all done.  There was a switch in a little electric box on the wall and the electric cord connecting the lights on the brick wall was covered with a plastic strip.  It all looked very professional.  Then I looked over the ledge.  There was lamp wire coming  out of a hole near the washer runs along the wall then over the roof.  The wire even has two slices wrapped in tape.  Mexico!!

My prize is the kitchen.  Yes, it is small, but I like being surrounded by the three counters.  Everything is within reach.    I have even started to cook in it.  Since there were no drawers and no overhead cabinets, I bought a beautiful carved chest with four drawers and put it under the staircase.  I still did not have enough room so I added shelving under the counter and then just set some pots above the chest.  I like  the look.  I also added the three rustic shelves and painted them to match my color scheme.  Since there was only one small light in the ceiling I added more lights.   You could operate in that room now.

All in all, I think it is a very attractive apartment and I am very happy here.  Let's hope I can stay here for a long time as I have spent a fortune furnishing and decorating it.  You should visit me sometime.

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THE CAT AND THE COFFEE CAKE

Sadly parents use their children to peddle stuff on the streets.  They try to sell everything from Chiclets gum (yes they do that here too) to peanuts and trinkets, to home baked breads or tamales.  Many are too young to be in school, but it is not uncommon for parents to pull their kids out of school to peddle goods.  The poverty here is heart breaking and the parents know that it is harder for tourists to resist a little kid.

The kids are all cute here with their large brown eyes and ready smiles,  and some are really good at pulling on your heart strings.  Normally I ignore them but sometimes I will give them 5 or 10 pesos just to get them to go away.  There is one kid in his teens who has been selling his mother's coffee cake for many years.  When his mother became too ill to bake, he tried other products but it did not work out.  So he learned how to bake the coffee cake himself.  My favorite is the carrot cake.  They are about 8 inch long ovals and delicious with coffee in the morning.  He now knows me and my preference for the carrot and will seek me out.  Sometimes he also works the beach as well, trekking up and own the beach with his basket of bread.

One day I had purchased the bread while at the beach, and usually place it on top of the coffee pot.  When the coffee brews in the morning it warms the bread.  But before going to bed I tore off a couple of pieces and ate them with a glass of milk.  I retied the plastic baggy but I think I left it on the counter.  The following morning it was gone!  I looked everywhere for it.   NO! it was nowhere.  Since I have almost no drawers there isn't a lot of places to put stuff.  I spent all day trying to figure out what happened to it.  I know I brought it home from the beach for I had a piece before going to bed.  The half finished glass of milk was in the frig.  Was someone trying to "gas light" me or what??

Then I remembered the cat.  Although I have not encountered him again, I find dirty little paw prints under the open window so I know he has been here.  But that did not make any sense.  There wasn't even a crumb left and the whole plastic bag was gone.  Could he have jumped through the window with the bag in his teeth.  If he was that interested in the cake, what was in it??  I could not come up with another explanation as impossible as it all seemed.

Yesterday I bought another carrot cake while I was at the beach.  I left the bag tied up and placed it on the coffee pot.  Remembering what happened the last time, I intended to close that window before going to bed.  There is such a nice sweet breeze coming down from the mountains and through that window that I leave it open a lot.  But that night I had been to dinner with Nancy (my old neighbor from the Little House of Horrors).  After three margaritas and a few beers, I forgot to close the window.  The following morning as I staggered toward the coffee pot I noticed something on the floor.  Sure enough it was the half eaten bag of bread.  He had ripped through the bag but only managed to eat a little and with the ripped bag, I guess he could not get it out the window.  If he is that fascinated with it, is it made of fish oil or what?

Now, I am assuming it was a cat.  The thought of some other kind of creature crawling thought the window and roaming around the house is just too distressing to think about.  What is your opinion?


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CAUGHT AT CUSTOMS !

LAX certainly has the worst customs that I had ever experienced.  There are always very long lines and you are met by the rudest people you have even encountered.   By contrast Customs in Mexico is a breeze.  Normally short lines and you can whiz right through.  As you exit you approach a guard with a machine.  It has a large red button.  You are asked to push it, a red or green light will appear.  Green light and you are free to pass.  Red light and they want to go through all your baggage.  It is supposed to be a random choice and most of the time you will get the green light.  Is there someone in some hidden booth with a camera that actually chooses the red or green light?  I do not know, but I think that would be too technologically advanced for Mexico.

I was returning from a brief trip to Orange County to see doctors, friends, and take care of a little business.  I had also purchased a lot of stuff that you either cannot buy in Mexico or it is double the price.  So I had two suitcases.  I have gotten used to the Mexican cigarettes, but still prefer the milder American ones (even thought they are more expensive).  When I first moved here two years ago, I arrived with six bags and suitcases and brought three cartons of cigarettes.  That was my first "red light" experience.  After being caught once, I had two cartons, but then scattered another carton separately through the two suitcases.

First you have to hoist your bags up onto a portable picnic table.  No they will not help.  As old and feeble as I look they still stand there while you struggle to raise your bags up to table height.   One bag even had a red sticker on it stating that it was heavy.  No help.  I was sure they would figure out that I had more than 40 packages of cigarettes and I knew the procedure.  They take you in a little room and fill out some sort of paper work (IN SEVEN COPIES!)  Don't ask why seven copies, it is Mexico!  They  take the extra cigarettes you sign the paper and leave.

The customs agent began to paw through the stuff in my luggage.   I must admit it must have looked like I had raided a pharmacy.  Some things you can buy in Mexico but they are double the price so I had loaded up with mostly vitamins and cold stuff at Costco.  As you know they are not only large bottles, but often two are attached.  There were just a few prescription drugs as I don't need many.  He gave me a very strange look as be picked up and inspected each one.  Then he came upon the Japanese summer tea.   Years ago discovered it, so I have my friend in Japan send it to my P.O. Box so I can bring them back to Mexico.  I drink copious amount of iced tea.  This tea can be made in a few minutes in cold water and it is not only healthy, but no caffeine.  It is not really tea, but made from toasted wheat barley.  I had three large bags of it.  He wanted to know what it was (the label is in Japanese)  I tired to explain that it was not really tea (which was my first mistake) and opened one package to show him the little tea bags.  He looked curiously at it, then sniffed it.  Then he noticed the three tubes of tooth paste from Japan that my friend also sent.  Of course there is nothing on it but Japanese characters.  He wanted to know what it was, and then why I would import tooth paste.  Well it is gritty and you can't find gritty here.  He gave me that look again and went back to the tea bags.

Did he really think that I was smuggling marijuana to Mexico?  Why would anyone, and if someone did, why would Mexico care?  At this point I was escorted to the little interrogation room.  He left me alone with my luggage (locking the door behind him) .  Was there some kind of peep hole where they could watch to see ifI started to sweat?  I was annoyed, but fortunately I do not sweat.  My suitcases also contained two goose down pillows and two sets of satin-like sheets (the linens here are awful).  Maybe they thought I was going to open a brothel.  No, they really would not care about that.

 Then two men arrived with a dog!  Good Grief !  But luckily the dog did not like my summer tea or my tooth paste..  I offered to brew some up for them so they could taste it.  This idea did not help either.  Surely they wouldn't send my tea out for a drug test.  I would never get it back. After what seemed like hours to me, they decided to let it all pass.  Being old and feeble looking probably did help as well.  Had I been a teenager,  I would probably still be there.  And, they never did count the packages of cigarettes. So maybe if you really do want to smuggle something into Mexico, carry a couple of bags of Japanese tea.  NO !  You really do not want to go through the ordeal.   Oh, one more tip.   Once you pass customs run across that large room to the exit.  That corridor and room is overflowing with salesmen trying to sell you tours, time shares, and other scams. They are extremely aggressive, just ignore them.  You can buy your ticket for the cab there, but I just prefer to get away from there and buy  it outside.  It is set at $24.00 or 250 pesos (which is much cheaper).  There is only one cab company that is allowed to pick up passengers in the airport.  Or, you can drag your luggage up an enormous staircase and cross a bridge to the other side of the highway.  There you can get a cab for 125 pesos (half the price)     Welcome to Mexico and yes, I still love it here.



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NIGHT VISITOR

Trash collection is one of the most disgusting aspects of living in Puerto Vallarta.  There are very few trash receptacles (no Dempsey Dumpers) .  Every block has one designated corner where trash is left.  Most people are good about leaving the trash in plastic bags, but not always sealed.  Some people just drop trash and garbage at the corner.  Luckily my designated corner is at the other end of the block.  It really stinks, probably because of the fish restaurant below me.  To make matter worse scavengers (human and otherwise) dig through the trash to see what they can find of value, leaving an even greater mess.

One night before going to bed, I had carefully tied up a plastic bag of trash and left it at the top of the stairs intending to carry it down in the morning.  I had eaten "take out" ribs from my favorite bar and that morning had finished off the bacon with my breakfast.  The next morning I noticed little pieces of plastic scattered about the floor.   Then I noticed a hole had been torn in the bag.  RATS ! I thought.  The night had been very hot so I had left the window in the guest bedroom open in order to catch any breath of fresh air we had that night (I do not like to leave the A/C on all night long).  I was hoping that the critter had entered through the window and had not been living here all the time.  I have never found any little "droppings" indicating the presence of rodents, nor had I ever seen one (dead or alive) since I moved here two years ago.  This had puzzled me because of the trash at every cornier and the fact that we live in the middle of a dense jungle.

I headed for Guadalajara Pharmacy as they carry a little of everything. They did not have the  poison pellets I was looking for.  They had the old fashioned spring traps, but I have always been afraid of them.  What if the trap caught the rat, but did not kill him?  The other choice was a pan of glue that presumably the rat would walk over and get stuck.  But he would still be alive!  I could not handle that.  I was told that I could buy the poison I wanted at Walmart.  I had already started a Walmart list (I can't do anything without a list). and decided to make that trip the following day.

That night I got up in the middle of the night (old people do this a lot) and as I headed toward the kitchen for a milk and some cookies. Suddenly a black beast leaped off the counter.  First the critter ran up the stairs to the deck door and finding it locked, headed down two flights to the front door.  It too was closed (obviously he had been here before and knew the layout of the house).  .  By this time I realized it was a large black cat.  About the same instant he must have recovered his wits and remembered that he entered through the bedroom window and leaped out.

I was happy to learn that my "night visitor" was feline instead of some rodent.  I was also happy that I was did not purchase any kind of rat trap.  Can you imagine the caterwauling if he had gotten his paw caught in one?  He also would not have been able to get through the bars in the window with the trap attached to his paw.  It would have been awful.  This may also explain the lack of rodents here.  Too many hungry felines roaming about.  I went back to Guadalajara Pharmacy but this time to buy cat food (yes I am a sucker for stray pets).  That night I put the food under the open window.

It was still there the following morning.  Perhaps I scared him more than he sacred me.  Or, perhaps he prefers garbage to processed cat food.  I decided to put  some on the roof.  If he was clever enough to get in the window, he should be able to figure out how to get on the roof.  It too remained uneaten.  Of course if it had been gone, I would have never known what might that eaten it.  Will I ever see "kitty" again?  Stay tuned!  Obviously, there is no photo of kitty.

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MORNING INTERRUPTED, BAD NEW FOR P.V.

It was a lovely cool morning.  I was up early and having my first coffee and cigarette on my balcony.  I was thinking how quiet and peaceful it was here.  No buses, no bus drivers shouting at each other, no drunks, and very few cars at that hour.  I was very happy and at peace and suddenly there was a huge boom.  It sounded like a cannon blast.  Which is quite possible here as every church has a cannon for special occasions (more noise!).  Then huge billows of very black smoke started coming up just a half block away.  More smaller explosions, and it looked like it was coming from the Pharmacy Guadalajara.  The black smoke went on for at least half an hour and I could see flames shooting up that were burning the cables and wires (another reason they should be underground).

I took a few photos, but did not go down to actually photograph the blaze, thinking it was just a store on fire. Little explosions followed like fire crackers.  Then the federalis arrived.  They blocked off the street from cars and pedestrians (probably to prevent anyone from taking pictures).   You may be able to see that one of them is wearing a black terrorist mask.  Some wear those so not to be identified by the "bad guys"  (Mexico is a strange place).   I was going to make my breakfast when I discovered that there were no eggs.  Had the explosion happened an hour later I would have been at the Pharmacy Guadalajara buying milk and eggs.  I decided to go to my favorite coffee shop and have breakfast there.  You can always get the latest news and gossip there (lots of gossip here).

It was then that I found out that V. Carranza was also closed to traffic.  It is the street that comes out from the tunnel and Insurgentes (where the "accident" happened) was also closed which is the end of Highway 200.  This caused an enormous traffic jam with a lot of buses and traffic going down my street.  On the way I passed Clarisse (who helped me with the last of the move).     She had been a half block away and was a witness to the whole event.

She heard the explosion and saw the buring SUV run into a taxi in front of the pharmacy.  She ran over to help (Yes, she is the kind of person who runs toward an explosion, not away from it)  She found a man lying in the parking lot.  He was the taxi driver who happened to have stepped out of his taxi.  He was okay, but very shaken.  She took him inside.  Then all the ammunition in the SUV started exploding.  She then decided the place was not save and dragged the taxi driver out, just as his taxi blew up.  Gasoline was burning all over the street.  They say a car was following the SUV through the tunnel and when they caught up with it threw two grenades at it, and sped off.

The local papers will never tell us what really happened (if they even know).    Rumors are rampant.  The next day the papers said that the driver of the SUV was the Commissioner of Security (obviously not very good at it).  Two bystanders who were across the street were injured by flying shrapnel and of course the driver was killed (not nearly as bad as Colorado a few months ago).  They found the car that threw the grenade within a few blocks from here, but will never know who drove the car or exactly why he killed the commissioner. 

Yes, yes, I know exactly what you are thinking.  Bad things do happen here.  But I still say that the most dangerous thing I will ever do is to drive on the L.A. freeways.  Besides where can you get this kind of excitement?   How many of you have lived a half block from and exploding SUV full of ammunition??  Also included is a photo of what the sunrise looks like from my deck so you can see what a lovely peaceful morning it started out to be and why I still love it here.

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WORK WORK WORK

You could not tell from the previous photos just how much work had to be done to make it liveable (well, for me).  It was my idea to replace the tile, sink and faucet.  It was also my idea to add the roof to the deck and paint.  What I did not know is that the bathroom fan did not work, the lighting was woefully inadequate in the kitchen.  I knew the water pressure was not good, but since there was no shower head, I did not know that the shower was only a trickle.  On the deck there is almost no pressure.  I was told by Saul (the maintenance man who has done most of the work for me)  that the pressure valve was stolen three years ago and everyone complains, but the owner would not pay for it.  The gas tank was empty, when I had it filled we discovered that the gas pipes for the dryer, stove, and hot water not only had no turn offs, but no caps.  The gas had to be shut off.  Oh, and the toilet did not properly flush.

For over a month I worked here from 9:00 until 6:00 every single day.  I stopped my Spanish lessons and have not been to the gym in a month.  I do still play bridge every Thursday afternoon (no way to get out of the tournament).  I did find a very good helper and actually let him do some of the painting.  He is almost as careful as I am.  He is a very hard worker (no lifting or floors) but he started arriving late and leaving early.    I told him I would switch to paying him for half a day and that corrected that flaw.  Painting also requires patching all the holes left in the walls and smoothing out where they run wiring.  They just chisel out a trench in the concrete wall for wiring.  There was also no lighting when you got to the deck.  I had him add two lights with a switch at the top of the stairs.  It all looks very professional until you peak around the wall and discover that it is really just lamp cord running around the building.  It is the way things are done here.

I used the same tile man who does a good job and at a very fair in price.  Did I tell you that the hand made tiles cost 43 cents a piece?  The tile man underestimated the number and I was two boxes short.  They had to make them, so that delayed the finish for a week.  Also he discovered that there was a fake plaster board wall above the stove (who knows why).  It had to be ripped out and a concrete wall was added.  When they slap the mud at the wall it spatters all over the room.  Of course I had already finished painting.  I made sure that I bought a double sink the same size as the single sink that was there  When the old sink was pulled out we discovered that under the flat part of the sink was four inches of concrete and re-bar.  It all had to be chiseled out.  I  bought some special tiles of fruit in green yellow and orange (my colors again).  He installed the row too high so when I added the shelving it partially hides the tiles.  No kitchen has over counter cabinets so you have to improvise.  I bought a Mexican chest for the bedroom but decided to place in the kitchen under the staircase.  It works perfectly and even had 4 drawers.  There is not one drawer in the kitchen.

The biggest shocker came when the washer and dryer arrived.  I knew the front door was narrow, so I was sure not to buy anything that would not go through it.  Well, actually the bed frame had to be hoisted up to the first floor.  Then we discovered that the door to the deck did not open enough for either appliance.  It is blocked by a brick overhang on the balcony railing.  Both had to be hoisted up two floors.  My balcony hangs over the sidewalk so that meant they would be raised above the street and any cars on it. (you can see the cars under the hoisted dryer in the photo).

The day the two guys arrived to hoist the appliances up, there were two cars parked directly under where they were going to pull them up.  I asked everyone on the street who owned the cars, but no one knew or cared.  I watched from across the street and knew that if one fell, I would have to leave Mexico.  I can not even imagine the damage that would occur.  But of course it went off without a hitch.  When my equipauli (pig skin) table arrived, it too would not go up the staircase.  Having seen two guy raise a heavy dryer up, I knew the table would be a piece of cake so the maintenance man and myself did it.  Apparently this is quite a common occurrence in Mexico.

The new place is much smaller so trying to place everything was a problem too.  Every little Mexican treasure I bought was for a specific place.  Now, many will wind up on the roof top garden (that is what I call it now).  All this has taken me a month to complete and I have spent a fortune.  The rent is much less than what I was paying so, if I can stay there for several years, it will balance out.  I think I will like it, especially the roof top garden (I must buy more pots and plants).  Did I mention that the church bell tower is across the street?  Having lived a block away, I knew about the ringing of the bells (22 to 26 times) but had no idea what a difference being just a few yards away would make.  The noise is truly deafening, but it is mainly just on Sunday, and special occasions (which Mexico has a lot of)  and I do get up early.

I think I have mentioned before how often the Mexicans try to rip off foreigners and this move was no exception.  Prices automatically go up, when they see white skin, so I thought it was important to tell you a good story.   I had priced mattresses in several stores and found they ran from 5,000 to 7,000 pesos.  I was told about a sort of mattress outlet store.  After trying out several I settled on one for 3,500 pesos and thought I got it for a good price (especially since delivery the same day was included).  When I went to pay for it the girl said,  "Oh, cash!  you get a 500 pesos discount"  I would never have known, so there are some nice honest Mexicans here.

Now I am actually living in the new apartment.  It will take a while to get everything in order and put away and I still have to buy living room furniture.  I would like a royal blue sofa on one wall and two chairs and a lamp table on the other.  I also hope to buy a bedroom chest at an estate sale next week.  All this will take a while to complete, but at the moment I need rest.  Even after 8 or 9 hours sleep I awake exhausted.  I really think I am now too old to every move again.  Let's hope I like it here and the landlady lets me stay.  I was telling my cousin how difficult this move was for me and she said that when she moved from her home to a retirement home: she hired a company that came in looked how she had everything, packed it up, moved and when she arrived that night everything had been put away exactly the same.  I told her that "if" such a company existed in Mexico they would STEAL everything. 


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THE QUEST

My quest is not for a new Nirvana,  for I think I have found Paradise here in Puerto Vallarta (albeit a Paradise with a few problems)..  My for the past four months has been trying to find a new apartment.  I have not bothered to write about the continuing problems living in this "Little House of Horrors".  The last straw was my last electric bill.  The bill went from 58 pesos, to 500 to 3,500 and this month 7,070 pesos (almost what I pay in rent)!  When I got the 3,500 bill, I immediately called the electrician who told me he would "hot wire" it so that my bill would only be a few hundred pesos.  Obviously it did not work (I was never good at cheating anyway).  He could not understand it. He said he had done it a 100 times before and it always worked.   When some one tells me "This has never happened before".  I tell them, "You have no idea who you are dealing with here"  I am a magnet for the strange and the bizarre.  The impossible is a common occurrence for me.  Not always in a bad way, for some extraordinarily wonderful things have happened to me during my long life..  Just not today.

After six trips and calls to the electric company I finally got an inspector to check out my apartment.  He agreed that with what I had in the apartment and my usage, my bill should not be more than a few hundred pesos.  Then he said that the problem was in the wiring of the building and particularly the condenser.   It wasn't my fault, but it also wasn't the electric company's problem, so I still had to pay the bill. The building manager does not care.

In any case, it was time to move.  I had found a place located just around the corner from me.  It was an old casita where the owner had build two apartments on top of it.  It was old and a little dark, but so much charm and it was quite large (3 bedrooms 3,baths).  I saw it the day before I was to leave for Cancun, so I gave them 5,000 pesos to hold it for me for one week.  I would decide definitely when I got back.  They rented to someone else anyway.  Yes, this is Mexico, but I did get my money back.  The biggest draw back is that I needed a large private terrace or patio and I wanted to stay in the Zona Romantica .  One place had everything I wanted plus a wonderful view.  But it was 176 steps from the street to the front door!  (I counted them on the way down)  Now I am fairly healthy, but 176 steps??    Another was located on the street next to the river, a prime street with no bus traffic.  It looked like a bordello with faux marble walls and  crystal chandeliers. .  It was so small the the satin covered bed was in the middle of the only room.  The kitchen was smaller than my linen closet.  Another had a lot of things I liked but it had a roof deck with about 100 balconies overlooking it.  It also had no glass windows.  My favorite was another little house that was old and crude, but charming.  It had two patios.  The draw back was that the only bathroom was in a separate building across the back patio,.  I decided it would not work for me.    I could go on for I have seen 100 of them.

So when I saw this place, it was not all I wanted, but it had possibilities and it was cheap!  I have lived over a sandal shop, a major bus depot and now this one is over a fish taco place (better than a fish market).   I just had to get out of where I was. Even though I knew I would have to spend a lot of money on it, I thought I could make it do.  It was not exactly in the area I wanted, but not too far away and it did have a very large roof top deck plus a balcony.  So I said I would take it.  The landlord did not want me!  Did not want me??  Is she crazy??  Well,  as it turns out she is.  She is also the most hated woman in Puerto Vallarta.  She not only closed her store without paying her employees, (they are still picking outside the store). She owes a lot of people money.  Not a good person to rent from, but I was desperate.  She wanted a Mexican National who owned a prominent business to cosign.  Some one like her maybe?  I went looking again.  Nothing worked and the closer it gets to October and the high season, the fewer apartments are available.  Finally I agreed to pay six months in advance (plus I was spending the equivalent of  another six months rent on it before I moved in) .

She finally agreed and when I went to sign the lease,  My Realtor pointed out that is was only a six month lease with no options!  The lawyer said that if I was a good tenant and paid my rent on time, she would extend it.  PAY MY RENT ON TIME!  I gave them seven months rent.   She could raise the rent or ask me to move.  I was investing too much money in it to leave in six months, so my Realtor said he would get it rewritten.  It took two weeks!  Meanwhile I am in a panic.  I had only a few days to either give notice or pay another months rent (plus electric).  I told my Realtor I did not care that it was a six month lease.  What could be worse than staying here?

Finally I said that I would sign the six month lease and take my chances.  I had to move.  The lawyer agreed to meet us at 11:00 at the apartment.  He did not show up until 1:30 (Mexico!!)  It was just for six months and then I was told that I also had to come up with the one month deposit.  I had to give them seven months rent for a six month lease.  I had no choice and raced to the bank again.  Then he found out that none of his keys worked in the lock.  It took another hour and two more attempts to find who had the right key.  I finally have a key to my new place.

I am going to send you a few photos so you can see how really ugly it is, but in a month or so you will see what I (and a lot of money) can do to make it pretty.   Oh, I forgot to mention that the lease being in Spanish is completely illegible to me, but I did notice a strange name on the lease.  I asked who that person was.  It turns out that it is the aunt's name who actually owns the building.  I asked if she could sign the lease.  I was told that she was dead!   I have just given him seven months rent for a six month lease and I do not even know who really owns the building.  WHAT COULD GO WRONG??  OOPPS!!

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CANCUN NO RESERVATIONS

At first we were going to Cuba.  My young Mexican friend (A House in Bucerios) worked with a guy who had a large house in Cuba.  We could stay there free.  It was an exciting idea to me as I had never even thought about going to Cuba, since Americans are forbidden to travel to Cuba.  Then I found out that the house was not in Havana, but on an island off Cuba.  There is no internet in Cuba and the island where the house was had only a few phones.  How would we get there, how would we make contact?  Then I learned that the U.S. imposes at $10,000 fine for any American illegally going to Cuba.  My Mexican friend said,  "Oh don't worry,  they won't stamp your passbook".  There were too many unknowns so I said,  "I never travel anywhere without a reservation".  We decided to go to Cancun instead.

 The flight was arranged, but we needed a hotel.  I was told that it was better to stay in Playa del Carmen, as it is smaller and nicer than Cancun.  Again, my friend was sure we could get a nice "cheap" hotel as he had a friend who was a concierge at a local hotel here.  Both hotels he recommended were in Cancun, so I went to the internet.  There were 175 choices in Playa del Carmen, everything from $63, to $600 a night.  Too many choices and I did not know where the hotels were or anything else about them.  My "no problemo" friend convinced me that we would just rent a car and drive to Playa del Carmen and being Mexican he could get a nice cheap room.  So, off we flew "with no reservation"

The plane trip went smoothly, then we arrived in Cancun to pick up the car I had reserved.  Before I left I printed out the confirmation, e ticket code and flight schedule.  I also printed out the confirmation of the car reservation.  After recieving my boarding pass, I put the confirmations in my back pocket.  I was wearing jeans for I was not carry anything so I had no other place to put it.  It stuck a little for the jean pocket is small.  When we arrived in Cancun, I reached back, and it was gone!  Had it slipped out while I was seated in the plane, or did some one take it ?   I was not even sure what car company I used, and we were in a room of about 50 car rental places.  I  also had no flight schedule or e ticket code.  We fnally gave up and rented a car from National.  I was told that I did not need a passport when traveling inside of Mexico.  This is true, unless you want to use an American credit card.  After giving the car guy my most pained expression, I produced a copy of my passport that I always carry.  He took it.

Off we went to Cancun.  The main Mayan ruin that I wanted to see was closer to Cancun, so we decided to spend two nights there (good thing I did not book rooms in Playa del Carmen).   The Hotel Zone is really a very long sand bar or barrier reef that surrounds the entire city.  We passed one expensive resort hotel after another.  It looks more like Miami Beach or Honolulu than anything Mexican.   Then came a row of shops "Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Baccarat, Tiffany's".  All the very expensive shops you can imagine.  I was beginning to panic about finding a "cheap hotel"  Then sure enough at the very end of the strip he found a cheap Mexican hotel just as Elvis said we would.  Yes, his real name is Elvis (his mother must have been more enamored of Presley than she was of her parish priest)   The incredible aqua blue color of the water  due to the fine white sand, is brilliant.

We went to downtown Cancun.This looks more like Las Vegas with a little Tijuana thrown in.  Thousands of young partying kids and one club after another blasting music.  Girls dancing on table tops, a sort of floor show going on in the mall across the street.   Cancun is about 3 times the price of Puerto Vallarta.  One margarita and one coke was 160 pesos   It was really not my "thing".  Next day we drove out to Chichen Itza.  It is over two hours on the toll road (which cost $30. each way).  The cost of admission surprised me as well.  It is a huge complex of temples and ruins covering acres and acres.  It was once a very large city.  The size and height of the pyramids is amazing considering they are thousands of years old.  Much of the sculptured rock is just awesome.  Besides wondering how they built these huge structures, there is the question of water.  It is not located near a river or lake.  No one knows.

The next day we moved to Playa del Carmen and checked into another cheap Mexican Hotel.   Then off to see the ruins of Tulum.  It was not as large a complex, but still very impressive.  It is also located right on the ocean as it was a prosperous trading town.  It was still a thriving city when Cortez arrived.  The Mayans used canoes up and down the coast to trade.  I could not find out if either set of ruins had had much reconstruction or not.  In any case they are quite amazing to see.

Next day we went to Xcaret (a sort of zoo and water park).  It is very beautiful as the grounds are as gorgeous as the San Diego Zoo (not much in animal life).  There are many smaller Mayan ruins within the park, but it's main feature are the underground rivers that you can float through.  I explained that I have claustrophobia and cannot submerge my face in water.  Elvis insisted and said that most of the time you are only chest deep and you wear a life vest.  He rented the whole scuba gear (which I could never have put on) and off we went.  I went in first as he was adjusting his gear.  At the first tunnel, I was apprehensive but went along anyway.  You cannot stand up but sometimes you can cling to the rock walls.  As the tunnel grew longer it also grew lower.  At one point the ceiling was barely one foot above my head and only water beneath.  No sign of Elvis and I began to panic and thought I was going to die.  But I did not and made it through.  Some of the river flows out into the open and it is quite beautiful, but too long (almost a mile).  He went on two more rivers, I sat and had my beer.  They have  a sort of Mexican rodeo, but at night there is a Spectacular.  The amphitheater is enormous, holding thousands and thousands of spectators.  The show is the history of Mexican, beginning with the Mayan and Aztec.  They best part for me were the games.  It is played with a rubber ball (Mexicans were the first to discover rubber)   and sort of like soccer, except you cannot touch the ball with anything but your hip.  It was amazing.  Then it was played with a ball on fire and sort of hockey sticks.  Quite amazing.  Then came Cortez, the Spanish, Maximilian, and the revolution.  I could not photograph the show with my old Canon camera, but tried to get a picture of Montezuma in his green feathered head dress.

We spent some evenings in Playa del Carmen.  It has some charm, but not as much as Puerto Vallarta. It is also more expensive, but not as bad as Cancun.   They have a sort of Malecon, but it is not on the sand, but a block above (there is no board walk)  This pedestrian street resembled Venice Beach with a little more Tijuana thrown in.  One end of the street ends in a modern shopping mall with fountains (very nice).  The next day we took the ferry to the Island of Cosumel (about 40 minutes).  It is not a big island in fact we rented a little sort of enclosed scooter circled around the island.  There isn't much to do there except scuba diving.  Elvis loved it.  After my experience with the underground river, I was having no part of it, so I had my beer and cigarette while he went scuba diving.

It was fun, I enjoyed seeing it all, but would not go back. I still do not like traveling without reservations, but Elvis was right.  I could not have made the trip without him.  He acted as guide, driver and translator.  You would think that a resort town that deals mainly in American Dollars, people would speak English.  They do not!   Nothing has the charm of Puerto Vallarta, and it is much cheaper.  I will do more traveling in Mexico (with my passport) but will always be glad to be back home in Puerto Vallarta.


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ON BEING OLD

Does anyone REALLY plan on old age?  I know that I certainly did NOT!  Actually I never thought that I would live this long.  Oh, I know there are people who carefully plan for income during their "Golden Years" (what a laugh that is !)  Again, I did not.  But I am reminded of a dear friend of mine who worked for Orange County for most of his adult life.  He was working toward a very generous retirement plan.  He died two weeks before he was eligible.

But I am not just speaking about financial.  Does any one know or plan on what happens to their body?  I suppose plastic surgery might help to delay the inevitable, but it will happen anyway.  The skin starts to sag.  It hangs like crepe.  Your joints hurt,your hips and knees give out.  When I look in the mirror (which I do rarely) I have no idea who the person is staring back at me.  Many times I have had people ask if I was sad or angry and I have to reply, "No, that is just the way my face hangs.  I can't help it".  Of course you also gain weight as you age.  Being active and going to a gym will help maintain your weight, but what about the waist line?  I weight about the same as I did in high school, but my waist (or what used to be a waist) is ten inches larger.  I am told that the body stores fat around the organs (particularity in men) to protect them.  Protect them from what?  Certainly not from being attacked.

Now, I will say that I have enjoyed a remarkable good health all my life.  I tell people that I have never really been sick, but I have had five operations.  After a doctor tried to repair a hernia of mine, he told me that my stomach wall looked like Swiss cheese from all the operations.  Three times they have entered through my navel.  People speak of "innies and outies".  Well I have a "noney".  There is no sign of it at all,, just a scar.  My good health has nothing to do with good living, for I have abused my body for over 70 years.  I do however believe in self medication and therefore I stock an entire pharmacy of drugs for almost any ailment.
I have everything from vitamin supplements to stool softeners (which are not really needed here in Mexico)

I was reminded of my health recently.  One morning I awoke with a pain in my leg.  It was difficult for me to walk.  Now, I am so unconscious when I first get up (before a pot of good strong coffee) that when someone asks me how I am feeling, I have to tell them, " it is too early to tell".  Anyway this morning I knew something was wrong.  Then my ankle began to swell and I recognized the symptoms of a blood clot.  Two years ago while I was in France I had a blood clot.  I saw a series of doctors and had a sonogram, but as I recall they did not make much of a fuss about it.  Of course it was all in French, so I could have missed some important part.  It was a Saturday so I waited until Monday morning to visit our local hospital (a trip I have made before).

My Mexican doctor (a lovely lady who speaks perfect English) was very upset.  She said I could die from it and either I agreed to a series of shots and stay in bed for a week, or I would wind up in the hospital.  The shots are rather expensive for Mexico, so she suggested that I buy them at the local pharmacy and bring them back, as the hospital would charge me at least double the price.  Yes, you can buy a syringe full of drugs over the counter here.  The shot went directly into my stomach which was very painful.  She told me to go home and go to bed and No gym and No sex ((Oh, but we don't go there anyway).

On Thursday, I play bridge.  My doctor said that there was no way I could sit in a chair for five hours.  We
play duplicate bridge with partners.  I knew that my partner would not be able to get a substitute so that would mean that three people could not play.  I decided to slip on the support hose that I had made in France.  They are funny looking anyway, but when you wear only one with cargo shorts, .. well it is quite a sight..  But in Mexico no one pays attention to the bizarre.  A few people asked questions, my appearance did not cause much of a stir.

By Friday my doctor was amazed to say that the clot had dissolved.  No more shots, but I have to take a daily pill to keep it from coming back.  Every doctor I have ever had has remarked about my body"s ability to recover (good genes, I guess).  Such occurrences do remind one of the fragility of a body as old as mine.   Will I change my life style,  NO !!  I have gotten this far doing (and drinking) whatever I want, so why change now?   I don't worry about much about my health,  (maybe that is the secret).


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UTILITY COMPANIES

Living in a third world country has it's advantages (well, it is cheap ! ) and disadvantages ( well, like living in a third world country).  When my management company fails to pay the water bill, or the gas bill, or their electric (which controls the pump for water) all I can do is scream and yell.  When there is a problem with my own utilities,  I also scream and yell, but think I have more control ( I don't).

A new tenant moved into our building.  I caught up with his Realtor and told him that he was doing his client no favor, for all of us were leaving.  He claimed to have no knowledge of the problems with this building and of course his client moved in anyway.  The first thing he did was to install a "Dish Network".  For some unexplained reason, it eliminated all my English speaking channels.  I either had a black screen or a notice from Dish to select "one or two".  Since I did not have the Dish equipment, I could do nothing.  There was also an "800" number to call.  I did, but even though I was speaking with an American, they had a hard time understanding for I was not a "Dish" customer.  They claim they had never heard of such a thing  (just because something has never happened before, doesn't mean it won't happen to me).  Finally they came to the conclusion that I would have to have the new tenant call under his contract for a repair man.

Even though he is next door (one floor above) His building has a separate entrance.  I had no way to reach him other than standing in front of his door to wait for him to emerge.  In the meanwhile I decided to call my own cable net work.  Surprisingly, they offer a choice of "Spanish" or English".   First they said,  "We are having a problem, but we are working on it"  This is a standard line just to put you off.  I said,  "No YOU are not having a problem, I am having a problem"  After going through three people trying my best to understand their version of English, they agreed to send someone out.  When???  Well, maybe this afternoon, maybe tomorrow.  You will call? I asked.  Yes, Yes she said.  Miraculously the following day I had all my channels.
Except during an electric storm (which happens most nights now) when the channels just disappear.   As usual, I will never know why.

My electric bill arrives every two months.  I have made a mental note of when it is due for they only give you ten days to pay it.  As I explained earlier, they do not use the post office, but send an employee to every household and hand deliver the bill.  In my case this means it is slipped under the front door downstairs (we have no mail box).  But they do not even bother to put it into an envelope.  It is just a small green piece of paper.  I never got my bill.  Who knows, someone could have stepped on it during a rain storm and it would look like a piece of trash.  After it was more than a week late, I knew I had to do something,.

I went to the office where I pay the bills and used the code from my previous bill.  Sure enough, my name came up and it said I owed $3,262 pesos ( about $260.00)  This would be a lot of money for two months, but it covered the month that I was gone, so it was really only a one month bill.  I knew something was wrong and besides I did not have that much cash on me. For those of you who have followed my blog, you will know that this is not my first fight with the electric company.   From my previous experience, I decided to do some investigation myself;  a call to complain would do no good.  I noticed that my meter was spinning out of control, while the other meters were barely moving.  I went back to my apartment and unplugged everything.  Sure enough it was still spinning out of control.  It made me think that there may be another reason no one will connect to the underground wires that the City spent millions installing.  If the wires were underground it would be almost impossible to steal someone's electricity.

Because of my previous calls to the electric company,  there was no way I would have made myself understood, so I had Jose call.  Finally they agreed to send someone out, but they had no idea when.
They never showed up at all.  I decided to have Jose call again on Monday and this time get the number of the complaint order and with that I would go to the main office.  I was afraid it would be cut off for lack of payment.  Again Jose offered to break it with a rock.

The first girl spoke not a word of English and she didn't know anyone who did.  Some how I got across that I had a huge electric bill that I would only pay, if I could speak to someone in English.  They found another girl in the back.  Even when they speak some English, it is very hard to understand.  Anyway I explained that something was wrong with my meter.  OH NO! she exclaimed, it is not the meter, it is the wiring in your building.  I would never admit it to her, but considering that I live in the "Little House of Horrors" this was a possibility.  I insisted someone come out and look at it.  Reluctantly she gave me a number to call to set up an appointment.  I thought I had won a round.  I was wrong.  Jose called and they said, they do not make appointments and would send someone out within 5 days, but they would call first.  They did not call, whether they ever showed up or not I will never know.

The situation seemed hopeless until one day when I was talking to one of the guys who hangs out at my morning coffee shop.  He gave me the telephone number of an electrician who would fix my problem.  I could not see how, but set up an appointment and to my amazement he showed up on time.  I did find out something I did not know.  There is an air conditioning control panel on the wall.  I ignore it other than to make sure it is turned on when I need air (it goes off during every electric storm).  I thought that as long as I did not have one of my three units on that the air was off.  It is not.  As long as that little light is on the control box, the compressor is still working on the roof.  That might explain the high electric bill.

His solution was to "hot wire" my meter.  Really!!  He proceed to dismantle my meter.  I told him that the manager would be arriving in 30 minutes and to hurry up.  He finished just as her little red car pulled up.  He explained to her that he was just checking it for me.  He tells me that I will now never have a bill of more than 200 to 300 pesos (maybe $20.00) but that I should never call the electric company again.  I must always pay my bill on time and to be sure to call him before I move so that he can remove his wiring.  HEY!  Don't look at me like that.  This is Mexico, it is the way things are done here. You gotta love a country where for a few hundred pesos you can fix almost anything.

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NEVER BE LATE !!

Anyone who has ever spent any time at all in Mexico, must think that is a pretty stupid statement.  Everyone is always late in Mexico (sometimes by hours, sometimes by days)  I really don't think they even bother to teach kids how to tell time in school.   Only Gringos wear a watch.   No, what I am talking about is late for an official document.  My FM3 card expired! (my permanent residency card)

I knew before I left for Japan that I had less than two weeks to renew it.  But when I got back I was faced with that mountain of furniture that needed to be unpacked and placed.  The apartment was filthy.  To complicate matters my air conditioner did not work.  It took me four days to get it repaired (at my expense) and then the water was off for two days.  It just slipped my mind.  A friend of mine reminded me the day after it had expired.

First I got the four pass port photos at Guadalaja Pharmacy that night, then got up early the following morning.  So far,  it has only rained at night, but this morning God decided to make an exception (just for me).  My closest bus stop is four blocks away.  Now I don't mind getting a little wet walking in the rain, but wading across rivers of mud is really unpleasant.

When I got to the former immigration office, I found it had moved.  Fortunately it was now located in a very nice new large office just around the corner.  The building has no signs of any kind indicating a governmental office or Immigration.  No, on the door a hand painted sign read "Push"  That is all.    Because of the rain, I had no wait at all for the first girl (I remembered her from the last time)  After scolding me about being late, she told me I would owe an additional fine (they love fines here) and I would have to write a letter explaining why I was late in renewing it (apparently just being stupid was not enough).  She also handed me the application form which was not only in Spanish, but had to be filled out in Spanish.  I don't know if it was the pained look on my face, or just my old age, but she took pity on me.  She filled out the form and wrote the letter.  But we are not done.

She also told me that I now needed to download a form from my computer and I needed some photos of my right profile as well (I guess so it will more resemble a mug shot) plus 3 months of bank statements and my electric bill.  I told her I would be back the following day, but for some reason she did not like that idea.  She said something about "10 days" but I do not know if that is how long the permit takes, or how long I wait before returning.  The bus ride back was another experience.  Again the bus stop was about four blocks away and now it is really pouring rain.  When the bus screeched to a stop in front of me, it splashed muddy water up to my knees.  When I got on I noticed that everyone was seated on one side of the bus.  Then I noticed all the wet seats on the other side.  The roof leaked  (these buses would not pass inspection in Afghanistan). 

Now to the other form that must be downloaded from the internet.  No, it is not available anywhere else, she told me.  I don't know how many of you have tried to navigate any governmental web site, but try it in Spanish.  Well, armed with my Spanish dictionary I began.  There were some areas that even with the dictionary I had no clue what they wanted, so I just left them blank and then printed out the form (how one exists here without a computer and printer, I do not know).  A few days later (with my profile photos) I went back to the office.  The same girl told me that I had printed out the wrong form.  She pointed to something on the form about "Adobe Reader".  I figured that I would have to download it, and then print out the form.  But back at home, I discovered that my printer already had the latest version of Adobe Reader, so I tried it again.  The same form came up.  I printed it out and headed back to immigration.  Again she refused the form and suggested I go to an internet shop down the street (a 15 minute walk).

There the nice man set me up at a computer and brought up the correct web site, but I got the same page.  He insisted it would be all right and asked me to fill out the form (for the third time)  Well, of course my reading glasses were left next to my computer at home.  I did the best I could and the nice man showed me that at the bottom of the page there are two little icons.  One said "limpiar"  ( knew that meant clean or erase) the other said, "guardar"  I had ignored it, but all he had to do was to click there and up pops the correct form.

I went back again to the girl at the desk and presented her with the correct form.  She then went through all my documents and discovered that I only had 3 passport photos from the front side.  I gave her my pained expression again and explained that I had 4 photos, but in shuffling back and forth three times, I must have lost one.  She said that the 3 would do (why, if 3 would do, did they ask for 4?)  Then she gave me a new number.  I had been number 4 in the morning, now I was number 33 with 6 people ahead of me.

Finally my number came up and I handed him all my stuff.  He carefully went over every line of every page.  He was particularly fascinated with my bank statement, carefully reading every debit charge (I have no idea why).  Then he discovered that while filling out the last form without my glasses, I had missed the expiration date on my passport by one day.  He said I would need a new form!  The pained expression on my face was real this time.  I told him that I had already filled out the form three times and made three trips there.  He did something on the computer and left the room.  A few minutes later he came out with the form correctly printed with the right date.  If they had the form there all along, then WHY...???  Oh well, it is Mexico.  He told me to come back on Monday at 11:00 and they would have printed out an explanation of why I was late.  I would have to sign that, take it to a bank (another 15 minute walk) and get a receipt for paying the fine.  Then I would have to wait 10 days, download another form off the computer and come back and pay the real fee.

That morning it rained (the first morning since the last time I went to immigration).  By the time I left the rain had stopped.  I explained that I had an appointment at 11:00, but NO !  I had to sign in and get a number.  When I was called up, I got the same man I had last week.  He looked over the paper he had given me on Friday, pulled out my file and had me sign a paper that I had already signed.  Then he handed me back the same paper I gave him and told me to wait 10 days and then go into the computer and download another document and then I could come in and pay the fine.  I told him that he said I could pay the fine today.  NO!  You must wait 10 days, pay the fine, then wait another 10 days to pick up the card.

When I went back, I got a different girl that did give me the paper work for my fine.  It was 1,558 pesos (more than the permit costs), but I could not pay the fine for two more days.  "NO" she said, you cannot pay the fine until Thursday and the receipt (in duplicate) must be presented to the office on the same day.  I play bridge on Thursday, so I was at the bank when it opened.  I got the receipt duplicated at the internet office I visited before and when to Immigration.  I had to take a number and wait.  The same lady took the paper work and disappeared behind the wall again.   Maybe they have coffee breaks there, but they are always disappearing behind that wall.  She reappeared and told me to come back in a week (but not before)   At that time I would be given the bill for the permit, go back to the bank to get a receipt, duplicate it and return to the office and the FM3 card would be issued.

I am going to assume that everything will go smoothly and this sage will be over  (always the optimist!).  Besides I am tired of writing about it so I am going to post this anyway.  I have to get back to my problems with the cable company, the electric company, and finding a new apartment.   There is always something to occupy my old mind.


I know what you are thinking "Why would anyone want to live in Mexico"  Well, there are compensations (like the 48 hours of no booze) and the people are basically really nice.  Dealing with anything to do with a governmental agency is very, very difficult.  But, as I have said before, these "little problems" keeps my mind active (this is important at my age).  My life here is never dull,  sometimes very frustrating, but never boring.


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THE WORST 48 HOURS IN MEXICO

Luckily it only happens only once every six years.  People had been talking about it for six months,  as if it was the real Dooms Day.  Everyone was worried about it.  Election day was approaching !   They close all the bars, and all sales of alcohol are prohibited from Friday at midnight until midnight Sunday.  Why do they close on Friday, when the election isn't until Sunday?  Well ... because it is Mexico.

I had bought plenty of beer and checked to make sure I still had a few wine bottles left, so I was prepared.  Or, so I thought.  Saturday Jose (with the stand below my balcony) stopped and asked if he could borrow six beers to get him through the week end.  I said, "Sure! for I stocked up"  He answered that he had too, but his brother-in-law had drank it all that morning.

It was nice not to have the drunk that sleeps on the stairs to my building.  I don't know why he decided to live under my balcony, maybe because he can panhandle the tourists getting off the buses.  When he isn't talking to himself he sings.  He has the loudest booming voice I have ever heard.  He could have been a tenor at the opera (if he knew what that was).  He just disappeared.  I have no idea if he stayed home (assuming he actually has a home) or they locked him up.  Anyway it was much quieter with out him.

Sunday morning after watering my plants, hosing the patio and moping the floors I took off for my morning latte.  Of course all the bars and liquor stores were closed, but also a lot of restaurants decided not to open.  It was like a ghost town.   They have to return to their home states to vote, so I lot of the people who work here went home for the week end.  I was happy to find my coffee house still open. There were almost no cars on the streets. Then I noticed that the pick ups packed with kids and boom boxes weren't going up and down the streets blasting away.


 On the way back, Jose stopped me with a pleading look on his face.  Could he have more beer?  His brother in law had .....   Yeah, Yeah!  Mexicans never plan ahead for anything, even 48 hours with no booze.  I told him I would have to count what was left and he followed me to my apartment. Then, I remembered that my neighbor upstairs had invited me for Sunday dinner the night before.   I had eagerly
accepted as I normally spent every night in a bar and had nothing to do.   Checking my stock, I decided that since I wasn't going to be home anyway, he could have another six pack.  It was around 7:00 (just before I was invited for dinner) that my neighbor came down to ask if I had any wine.  Did she really forget about the elections, or was this dinner just a ruse for booze.

The dinner turned out to be quite nice.  She had barbequed and set up a table on her terrace.  Because her terrace has no cover, I was afraid it would rain any moment, but it did not.  After we finished my bottle of wine, it turned out she did have some wine.  Well sort of ... it was in a little carton container about the size of a small box of crackers.  I was tired anyway and excused myself.  When I got home I found I still had two bottles of beer left and one bottle of wine, so I survived the 48 hours.

All in all, I would say that I rather enjoyed it.   The town was extremely quiet.  The people getting on and off the buses made no noise.  Mexicans really have no idea what to do or how to behave when they are sober.  So mark down the date of the first Sunday in July, in 2018. But if you bring your own booze, it is really not that bad.

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