HOMBRES TRABAJANDO (MEN AT WORK)

Somewhere I read an article that said that Mexicans work longer hours per week than any other civilized country  (this assumes that Mexico is a civilized country).  I think that one of the Scandinavian countries worked the least hours.  Mexicans are extremely strong, no matter what size they are.  I am amazed what old women and young children can carry on their backs (or balanced on their heads).  Almost everyone works here.  Yes, some are hookers working the streets, but to them it is a job.   I do object to the parents who send their little children out to sell Chiclets and beg for money, but they are working.  Old people, young, and the disabled.  Every morning a man arrives to work at the restaurant across the street (I assume as a dishwasher).  One foot is turned completely backwards.  His right knee bends toward the left leg.  Some how he manages to walk and work.

I have already told you about the church painters who pulled themselves up five stories on wooden platforms and ropes.  Sadly after their Herculean effort, the paint has started to fade already.  Cheap paint of course.  The restaurant across the street from me was badly in need of a paint job, so I was delighted when a painter showed up to start scrapping off the peeling paint.  But he was a midget about three feet tall.  Why would they hire a midget to paint their wall?  Well, after watching him I determined that he was in fact a very good painter (as you know, I have painted all of my own apartments), so I know about painting).  He had brought a ladder with him (how he carried, it I have no idea) but it was not nearly tall enough to reach the top of the peak of the wall (especially when he is only three feet tall).

He would arrive late in the afternoon just before the taco stand opened up.  They fought every day as the sidewalk (and taco stand) was covered with pieces of peeled paint and dust.  Then one morning, the midget painter and the taco man showed up together.  The taco guy brought a tall ladder in his truck.  But it too was not tall enough.  So they got some pieces of wood and started nailing them to the ladder adding about three feet.  No way would you get me on that ladder.  But alas, it was still not tall enough to reach the roof.  So a neighbor showed up and he got to the top of the ladder and because he was tall, reached the top (you can see how the top few steps are added) .  Unfortunately, he was not a very good painter and dripped red over the newly painted white wall.  But that too was corrected.  It took the midget (with a little help from friends) a full week to finish the one wall.  It looks nice.

I assumed that he would then start on the other wall next.  Do not ever assume anything in Mexico for you will be wrong.  Months later the front of the restaurant still had peeling paint.  I did think that maybe theyran out of money (or maybe never paid the midget).  I figured the restaurant had a cash flow problem because of the gas truck that stops every week.  They pull out a ladder climb to roof pulling a long gas hose and fill the tank on the roof.  Only they don't really fill it.  My tank is half the size and I fill it twice a year.  What do they do, put 20 pesos in it?  It made no sense (but little does here.)

 Then the restaurant closed its doors.  I figured they were closing for the summer as many restaurants do.  Then a

"For Rent" sign went up.  I asked the taco people and he said that it probably will not open again due to a dispute in the family.   In spite of the fact that it is across the street and has one of the most beautiful patios in Vallarta, I do not eat there.   It is basically a breakfast place as it closes at 2:00 in the afternoon.  They do not serve an American breakfast and the lunch menu is very limited.  But is was not the food they kept me from going back.  The service was awful.  All the waiters are rude and slow  (an attitude they adapted from the owner).  When I heard about the dispute in the family I figured that the guy who ran the place must have treated his relatives with the same disdain he treated his customers.

Sometimes I see the little midget on the street, he also seems to say something to me.  Maybe he noticed my watching and photographing him while he was painting.  I do hope he got paid.  I also feel sorry of the rest of the help, like the poor guy with one foot turned backwards.  But life goes on in Mexico and I saw the midget painting the outside of a building on B. Badillo.  That is the most expensive street in Old Town, so I assume he is getting paid for that job.  (I hope so)