You think you are tired of hearing about my electric problems? Well think I feel about living with them. I know this is Mexico and you have to learn to go with the flow or you get swallowed by the tide. But my patience has limits.
It isn't every morning, just about once or twice a week I awake to no electricity. This has been going on for about six weeks. At first I ran down to Jose and had him call the electric company. It was the same each time. "If" they send someone out, by the time they got here, the electricity was back on. Every time they say there is "no problemo". You see most people in Mexico don't get up as early as I do, so no electricity until 8:30 or 9:00 isn't a problem.
A few days ago I awoke again to no electricity. It is still dark when I get up and no way to make my coffee which I needed desperately. I ran downstairs to Jose. He just laughed. You see the Mexicans are a very "happy go lucky" group of people. Everything is funny and they laugh all the time. I was not amused! Jose told me that the electricity goes off between 3:00 and 4:00am. How would "he" know when "my" electricity goes off? Well it is because he uses my electricity. He came to me one day and told me that he was having trouble getting electricity in his name. Exactly why, I do not know. He speaks perfect English but for some reason was unable to explain to me what his problem was. I was assured it would only be for a few weeks (it has been over a month). So he ran a very long extension cord out my kitchen window and down the light well to his place.
Once more he called and it was the same. They fill out a report and give him the number of the report. My electric bill is now covered with such numbers. As usual the electricity came back on some time after dawn I told Jose to ask for a new meter. He was informed that since the meter was not broken, I could not get a new one. That is when I came up with the "brilliant idea" to take a sledge hammer to the meter. They want a broken meter, they are going to get one! I realized there were some flaws to this idea. If I was caught I could be fined, or worse taken to jail. At the very least I would have to pay for a new meter. So I decided to ask Jose to do it for me. Well, he does speak better Spanish; he is a "smooth talker", and he could do it at 5:00am when no one was around and he is using my electricity. He said he would take a rock to it the following day.
Then, I thought again and decided to call my own electrician first and told Jose to hold off for a few days. I had no idea what an electrician could do, but maybe I could get some better answers. The very day the electrician was to show up. it happened again. I knew the number to call and my Spanish is getting better so I decided it was time they heard from an Angry American (Americano enojado). It is the same here as in the States when you call any company. You get a recording that asks to to push a number for what ever problem you think you have. I could not understand all they said, so I just kept pushing numbers until I got a live person.
As far as I know I am the only one in the building with this problem, but since none of my neighbors are up before 8:30 or 9:00, we are not sure (no one in Mexico has a clock, so there is nothing to stop running)
The stair lights are still on. Thank God, for I am sure I would have broken my neck falling down the stone and concrete steps. Since it was too dark in my apartment to read the numbers on my bill, I had to stand in the hall. Of course I was screaming. I must admit this gave me a little bit of satisfaction for I knew my neighbors were still asleep and felt it was pay back for all their late night parties that keep me up.
The first person did speak some English but when he asked if I had filled out a report, I began to scream at him I have the numbers of 6 reports that have been filled out. He hung up (at least we were some how disconnected) I called back using the same technique to get a live person. This one spoke no English which caused me to scream even louder. No matter how many time I told her (in Spanish) that I could not understand her, she continued in Spanish. I gave up and hung up and called again. This time I did get someone who spoke some English. I don't know if it was my poor Spanish, or her lack of understanding English, but when I read off the number on my bill. She said, " Oh, you live in Guadalajara!" I was already angry and frustrated, but remembering the man who hung up on me, I tried not to totally lose it.
We finally got the correct information and she gave me the number of yet another report. I told her that this did no good. She must have understood my frustration and promised me that someone would be there today and would call me. No one did call, but to my amazement but when i was coming back from my coffee house on my way to Spanish, there was an electric truck. One of the men did speak English. I didn't go so far as to tell him that if it wasn't fixed, I would break the meter with a rock (well, Jose would). But I did insist that something was wrong with my meter. He finally agreed and gave me a new meter. The electrician arrived shortly afterward and told me that the meter they took out was a newer, but flawed meter and the old larger one they put in was much better. They think that there is some sort of electric surge early in the morning and the new meters are set to shut down, to prevent overloading. We will see.
I did have a few electric problems (out side of no electricity in the morning). First I could not get the light over the stove to work. Some superglue fixed that. The light in the hall that kept going on and off wasn't screwed in tight enough. There was nothing he could do about replacing my bathroom light because the hole behind it is square and too large for the fixture I bought. It never ends here. Do I still love living here? Yes, I do! Where else could I get so much fodder for my blog???
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Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
ALL ABOUT BUSES
Yes, it has been a while and I know you have missed me. It was not just because I am lazy and running out of topics, but because I had a problem with my computer. One day I must do a post on "computer speak in Spanish" It is not easy. Most of my computer is in English, but when ever a problem (or a pop up) appears, it is in Spanish. I, of course have no clue. My computer guru came here this morning (luckily the electricity was on) to fix some of my problems. The problem with my blog was that Internet Explorer would no longer support the system, so he said he had to try a new server and switched me to Fire Fox. Do I understand what I just said? NO!!
Okay, back to buses. Yes I wrote about them last year, but I don't remember what I said so I am counting on you not remembering either. Plus, after over one year of living here, I think I now know all you need to know about buses. Notice I said "NEED TO KNOW" For there are always situations here that simply defy explanation. Of course living over a major bus stop has helped expand my knowledge as well.
First you must learn the colors. The blue and the green buses go North, the orange buses go South. But the buses go by different routes. There are also white buses that travel inland to various small towns and special destinations, like the Botanical Gardens, most of them are marked. For these buses you must buy a ticket sold at a few of the local tiendas (small corner grocery stores). In order to travel long distances by bus you must go to the main bus depot past the airport. There are roll up signs above the windshields that indicate the last stop. You need not pay much attention to them, because they don't tell you how they get there or where they stop (besides sometimes they forget to roll over the sign when they change directions). You have to read the hand written signs scribbled on the windshield for the stops. This can be a problem for someone with bad eye sight for by the time you can figure out what the sign says, the bus has passed by. You must hold up your arm and wave to get them to stop. Just because it is a regular bus stop where you are standing they won't stop unless they are dropping someone off. There is another reason it is hard to read the signs for Costco is spelled Cotsco. They pronounce it that way so they spell it that way. The North bound buses have a sort of card placed at the bottom of the windshield that says, "Centro" or "Tunel" I always try to get the "Tunel" bus for it avoids the heavy traffic from tourist in the center of town.
These are just the municipal buses, which number about 500. There are also tour buses, buses from the ocean liners, and special tour buses. Most of them are large air conditioned buses some with bath rooms. They bare absolutely no resemblance to the municipal buses. There is one little open air tour bus that sort of resembles a San Francisco trolley on rubber wheels (not sure who runs that, nor have I ever gotten on board).. Our mayor who has been on an amazing building spree now says they will move City Hall and all municipal and federal offices out of town. The idea is to reduce the number of buses running through the center of town. Who know?
Never be the last to board because the bus will take off as soon as you put one foot on the stairs. I have been known to shove old women and children out of the way. You should also have the correct change because you want to get to your seat as soon as possible. The buses take off at such speeds you can be thrown to the back of the bus. They also rarely close the doors, so you don't want to be anywhere near an open door once the bus takes off. I found that sitting in the middle is best for avoiding being bounced off your seat when they speed over the speed bumps. Why they bother with the speed bumps, I do not know and it isn't just one, but a series of four or five. I hold on for dear life even after I am seated.
Exactly why the buses travel at such speeds, racing against one another is unknown. I have been told that more people are killed in Mexico by buses than cars (let alone blown away by drug lords). Not that I have ever witnessed any of the above, but that is what I heard. All the municipal buses are in horrible condition. There are broken seats and windows, holes in the floor, and none have shock absorbers. Most of them also have failing brakes. You can hear the brakes scream in agony ever time he pushes on the brake peddle. Sometimes they break down totally. This happened to me one day coming back from Walmart. The bus just stopped in the middle of a major highway. After some chattering in Spanish, people started to get off the bus. I was pretty sure this was not a fire drill, so I got off too. I think that because of the confused look on my face someone told me not to worry for the driver was flagging down another bus and we could get on without paying an additional fare. AN ADDITIONAL FARE?? We were standing in the middle of a Mexican freeway. It was a horrifying experience
Why do I subject myself to this kind of torture? Well, they are cheap! You can go from one end of town to the other for 6.5 pesos (about 5 cents). A longer trip to say Mismaloya is 7 pesos. Cab fare from Costco or Walmart is 60 to 80 pesos. Let's face it I am cheap. This did not work out for me one day. I managed to get 8 bottles of cheap wine in my back pack. It was heavy but I was sure I could manage on the bus. To my dismay, I got one of the Indy 500 drivers. He raced down the streets trying to pass other buses so closely I was sure they would lock rear view mirrors. I don't know what he was late for, but I was not sure I would even arrive at all. Then we hit a large bump, my back pack jumped off the seat and onto the floor. I lost two bottles of wine (twice the price of a cab). Wine was swirling all over the floor as the bus careened through the tunnel at unbelievable speeds. I knew just how Princess Diana felt when she entered the tunnel under The Pont Alma in Paris. But, I didn't have far to go before I carried my dripping back pack off the bus, just glad to still be alive.
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Okay, back to buses. Yes I wrote about them last year, but I don't remember what I said so I am counting on you not remembering either. Plus, after over one year of living here, I think I now know all you need to know about buses. Notice I said "NEED TO KNOW" For there are always situations here that simply defy explanation. Of course living over a major bus stop has helped expand my knowledge as well.
First you must learn the colors. The blue and the green buses go North, the orange buses go South. But the buses go by different routes. There are also white buses that travel inland to various small towns and special destinations, like the Botanical Gardens, most of them are marked. For these buses you must buy a ticket sold at a few of the local tiendas (small corner grocery stores). In order to travel long distances by bus you must go to the main bus depot past the airport. There are roll up signs above the windshields that indicate the last stop. You need not pay much attention to them, because they don't tell you how they get there or where they stop (besides sometimes they forget to roll over the sign when they change directions). You have to read the hand written signs scribbled on the windshield for the stops. This can be a problem for someone with bad eye sight for by the time you can figure out what the sign says, the bus has passed by. You must hold up your arm and wave to get them to stop. Just because it is a regular bus stop where you are standing they won't stop unless they are dropping someone off. There is another reason it is hard to read the signs for Costco is spelled Cotsco. They pronounce it that way so they spell it that way. The North bound buses have a sort of card placed at the bottom of the windshield that says, "Centro" or "Tunel" I always try to get the "Tunel" bus for it avoids the heavy traffic from tourist in the center of town.
These are just the municipal buses, which number about 500. There are also tour buses, buses from the ocean liners, and special tour buses. Most of them are large air conditioned buses some with bath rooms. They bare absolutely no resemblance to the municipal buses. There is one little open air tour bus that sort of resembles a San Francisco trolley on rubber wheels (not sure who runs that, nor have I ever gotten on board).. Our mayor who has been on an amazing building spree now says they will move City Hall and all municipal and federal offices out of town. The idea is to reduce the number of buses running through the center of town. Who know?
Never be the last to board because the bus will take off as soon as you put one foot on the stairs. I have been known to shove old women and children out of the way. You should also have the correct change because you want to get to your seat as soon as possible. The buses take off at such speeds you can be thrown to the back of the bus. They also rarely close the doors, so you don't want to be anywhere near an open door once the bus takes off. I found that sitting in the middle is best for avoiding being bounced off your seat when they speed over the speed bumps. Why they bother with the speed bumps, I do not know and it isn't just one, but a series of four or five. I hold on for dear life even after I am seated.
Exactly why the buses travel at such speeds, racing against one another is unknown. I have been told that more people are killed in Mexico by buses than cars (let alone blown away by drug lords). Not that I have ever witnessed any of the above, but that is what I heard. All the municipal buses are in horrible condition. There are broken seats and windows, holes in the floor, and none have shock absorbers. Most of them also have failing brakes. You can hear the brakes scream in agony ever time he pushes on the brake peddle. Sometimes they break down totally. This happened to me one day coming back from Walmart. The bus just stopped in the middle of a major highway. After some chattering in Spanish, people started to get off the bus. I was pretty sure this was not a fire drill, so I got off too. I think that because of the confused look on my face someone told me not to worry for the driver was flagging down another bus and we could get on without paying an additional fare. AN ADDITIONAL FARE?? We were standing in the middle of a Mexican freeway. It was a horrifying experience
Why do I subject myself to this kind of torture? Well, they are cheap! You can go from one end of town to the other for 6.5 pesos (about 5 cents). A longer trip to say Mismaloya is 7 pesos. Cab fare from Costco or Walmart is 60 to 80 pesos. Let's face it I am cheap. This did not work out for me one day. I managed to get 8 bottles of cheap wine in my back pack. It was heavy but I was sure I could manage on the bus. To my dismay, I got one of the Indy 500 drivers. He raced down the streets trying to pass other buses so closely I was sure they would lock rear view mirrors. I don't know what he was late for, but I was not sure I would even arrive at all. Then we hit a large bump, my back pack jumped off the seat and onto the floor. I lost two bottles of wine (twice the price of a cab). Wine was swirling all over the floor as the bus careened through the tunnel at unbelievable speeds. I knew just how Princess Diana felt when she entered the tunnel under The Pont Alma in Paris. But, I didn't have far to go before I carried my dripping back pack off the bus, just glad to still be alive.
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Monday, January 23, 2012
A SAD NOTE
One saga ends, and sadly another saga continues. My beloved aunt died shortly after the New Year. She was born in 1911 and lived to see 2012. She was the matriarch of a large (if somewhat dysfunctional family), and she was much more than an aunt to me. I think she saved up all her energy for her 100th birthday and just didn't have any left to continue on. I saw her again in November and she was notably changed. Her nervous system was failing and she was in great pain. She was basically bedridden and her sight was beginning to go. Once they started her on morphine, it was down hill. Sadly her mind remained as bright and active as ever, so she knew the end was near. I spoke with her every week up until the end, when she could barely speak. She had left a small fortune to her only son, but he died a week earlier, leaving the three grandchildren to fight over her estate. I will miss her.
I know you are sick of hearing about my apartment, but you want to know about my life. Well here it is (warts and all). Of course I never got the television or microwave promised and I never got the lease rewritten. Last week I awoke to no gas. Unfortunately I did not realize it until I had broken two eggs in a frying pan. It wasn't just low, it was gone! The "super" said they ordered more gas on Friday (it was Monday). This I do not believe. I guess I should explain about the gas here. We don't have gas lines in the street (That is the good news!!) Instead trucks run up and down the streets selling canisters of propane gas, and for large buildings like mind, a tanker arrives and hooks into a line at street level that carries the gas to a tank on the roof.
Not only can you not fry an egg, you don't have any hot water. I managed to muddle through the day and went to the gym (my first day for over two weeks, due to my fall). I was planning on going to my friend's house to shower, but the tanker had arrived and filled the tank on the roof. I even managed to get the pilot light back on myself (not that great a task since "pilot" is "piloto" in Spanish) Everyone in the building were mad and I found that four (out of eight) had not paid rent in two months). No wonder they had to money for gas. Our Realtor was contacted and said that he had tried to contact the owner, her lawyer, and the management company in November and none of them would return a call. He suggested we hire a lawyer.
The very next day, I awoke to no electricity. My first thought was to check my bill to see if I paid someone else's bill. No, it was in my name and I had a receipt. I yelled down to my friend Jose (who runs the business below me). He told me that it was just my half of the building (am I lucky, or what?) He gave me a cup of coffee out of his thermos and within an hour it came back on. No explanation at all. The following morning it was the same, No Electricity. Jose called the electric company, but in a few hours it was back on. Somehow my meter (and only mine) had been set to go off between midnight and 8:00. No one can explain it, but ever since then, no problem.
Did I tell you about my lease? It is in Spanish with no translation. This is not common when "gringos" rent here. Normally there is a side by side translation into English. I think I should stop here to state once more that what has happened to me is not typical of Mexico. I just happened to pick the worst building in P.V. My Realtor told me that is was a furnished apartment (2,000 pesos more) and that the owner paid the gas and water. He also told me that once the building is fully rented they will put a jacuzzi on the roof (to which no one has a key). What are the odds?? When all the trouble started I had a Mexican read the lease to me. It does NOT state that it is a "furnished apartment", let alone specifying a TV and microwave AND it says that the tenant pays all utilities. The Realtor lied! What a surprise. You must wondering how I could possibly live for 74 years and still be so stupid (I prefer the words, naive or trusting).
I spoke again to Becksy (that is not a misprint) who makes an attempt to manage the building. She promised a new lease with a new starting date and once I paid, I would get my TV and microwave.
Since I will be gone most of March (for my cataract operation) and again in May (to visit my friends is Japan) this is not the ideal time to look for a new apartment. I have decided to bare with it until June when I get back from Japan. We will see how things are going then (and if I have a TV and microwave)..
Sorry this posting was delayed. I had a "stuck tool bar" (what ever that is) that prevented me from getting into my blog.
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I know you are sick of hearing about my apartment, but you want to know about my life. Well here it is (warts and all). Of course I never got the television or microwave promised and I never got the lease rewritten. Last week I awoke to no gas. Unfortunately I did not realize it until I had broken two eggs in a frying pan. It wasn't just low, it was gone! The "super" said they ordered more gas on Friday (it was Monday). This I do not believe. I guess I should explain about the gas here. We don't have gas lines in the street (That is the good news!!) Instead trucks run up and down the streets selling canisters of propane gas, and for large buildings like mind, a tanker arrives and hooks into a line at street level that carries the gas to a tank on the roof.
Not only can you not fry an egg, you don't have any hot water. I managed to muddle through the day and went to the gym (my first day for over two weeks, due to my fall). I was planning on going to my friend's house to shower, but the tanker had arrived and filled the tank on the roof. I even managed to get the pilot light back on myself (not that great a task since "pilot" is "piloto" in Spanish) Everyone in the building were mad and I found that four (out of eight) had not paid rent in two months). No wonder they had to money for gas. Our Realtor was contacted and said that he had tried to contact the owner, her lawyer, and the management company in November and none of them would return a call. He suggested we hire a lawyer.
The very next day, I awoke to no electricity. My first thought was to check my bill to see if I paid someone else's bill. No, it was in my name and I had a receipt. I yelled down to my friend Jose (who runs the business below me). He told me that it was just my half of the building (am I lucky, or what?) He gave me a cup of coffee out of his thermos and within an hour it came back on. No explanation at all. The following morning it was the same, No Electricity. Jose called the electric company, but in a few hours it was back on. Somehow my meter (and only mine) had been set to go off between midnight and 8:00. No one can explain it, but ever since then, no problem.
Did I tell you about my lease? It is in Spanish with no translation. This is not common when "gringos" rent here. Normally there is a side by side translation into English. I think I should stop here to state once more that what has happened to me is not typical of Mexico. I just happened to pick the worst building in P.V. My Realtor told me that is was a furnished apartment (2,000 pesos more) and that the owner paid the gas and water. He also told me that once the building is fully rented they will put a jacuzzi on the roof (to which no one has a key). What are the odds?? When all the trouble started I had a Mexican read the lease to me. It does NOT state that it is a "furnished apartment", let alone specifying a TV and microwave AND it says that the tenant pays all utilities. The Realtor lied! What a surprise. You must wondering how I could possibly live for 74 years and still be so stupid (I prefer the words, naive or trusting).
I spoke again to Becksy (that is not a misprint) who makes an attempt to manage the building. She promised a new lease with a new starting date and once I paid, I would get my TV and microwave.
Since I will be gone most of March (for my cataract operation) and again in May (to visit my friends is Japan) this is not the ideal time to look for a new apartment. I have decided to bare with it until June when I get back from Japan. We will see how things are going then (and if I have a TV and microwave)..
Sorry this posting was delayed. I had a "stuck tool bar" (what ever that is) that prevented me from getting into my blog.
********************************8
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
BOTANICAL GARDENS REVISITED
It has been a while, so maybe you have forgotten my post on Puerto Vallarta's Botanical Gardens. It was just before summer when I went and a lot of the gardens were drying up. I wanted to go back right after the rains stopped, but there was Turkey, problems with the apartment, the Holidays, my fall, and my general laziness. On a spur of the moment one day I decided to go by myself. I had tried for some time to get my friend interested in it, but he was not.
It is still only 20 pesos for a one way bus ticket, but the entrance fee is now 60 pesos. They call it a 'donation' but I could not figure out how to get in without paying it. I skipped the 5 peso map and was surprised to see a friend sitting behind the desk (another turns out to be a waiter there). My, my I am becoming a local here. The gardens were much prettier and there were more flowers in bloom. I am still fascinated by that yellow and purple vine that looks like a type of wisteria. I also had not noticed the last time, that much of the jungle you walk through has vanilla orchids wrapped around tree trunks. Yes, vanilla beans to not come from a tree, but an orchid plant.
This time I did more of the trails that take you deep down into canyons of green ferns, vines and ferns. At the bottom is a river and there were little creeks running all through the park. Of course there is a swinging bridge over one of them. Some of the trees were in bloom and the water lily pond reminded me of Monets water lily lakes in Giverney. Much of the ground is covered in very colorful leafed plants.
The restaurant on the second floor of the bouganvilla covered building is quite charming, offering vistas of the park. The food is quite good too. One woman from my bridge club was there and told me she has had Thanksgiving dinner there for years (something I would like to do next year). It is a very pleasant day for about $15.00 including lunch. They are in the process of building a large green house for orchids, but it has been in progress for some time.
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It is still only 20 pesos for a one way bus ticket, but the entrance fee is now 60 pesos. They call it a 'donation' but I could not figure out how to get in without paying it. I skipped the 5 peso map and was surprised to see a friend sitting behind the desk (another turns out to be a waiter there). My, my I am becoming a local here. The gardens were much prettier and there were more flowers in bloom. I am still fascinated by that yellow and purple vine that looks like a type of wisteria. I also had not noticed the last time, that much of the jungle you walk through has vanilla orchids wrapped around tree trunks. Yes, vanilla beans to not come from a tree, but an orchid plant.
The restaurant on the second floor of the bouganvilla covered building is quite charming, offering vistas of the park. The food is quite good too. One woman from my bridge club was there and told me she has had Thanksgiving dinner there for years (something I would like to do next year). It is a very pleasant day for about $15.00 including lunch. They are in the process of building a large green house for orchids, but it has been in progress for some time.
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Thursday, December 22, 2011
FEAR OF FALLING
I knew there would be problems when I decided to live in a third world country. There were lots of fears and questions. How would I manage on a day to day basis, not knowing the language? How would I adjust to the food and the culture? How would I manage my finances with no mail? Would I be able to meet and make new friends? How would I handle my medical needs?
After living here for just a few days, I realized what my greatest fear was. It was not a fear of being blown away by a drug lord (I don't deal in drugs). It was not a fear of being kidnapped (no one would pay more than $100.00 to get my out of "hock"). I wasn't even afraid of eating food from tacos stands. My greatest fear was falling. A broken hip would be disaster for me.
All the side walks have surprise levels of concrete. There are cables bracing telephone poles that are bolted to hooks in the middle of the sidewalks. Some sidewalks suddenly end in a drop of a foot or more. I have never seen so many people on crutches or canes as I have here (of course the population is pretty old). The cobble stone streets are difficult even with out pot holes.
Last week I went to Apache's (one of my favorite bars) and had two margaritas from Endra. I knew if she made them, they would have very little alcohol in them (Andreas' margaritas are lethal). Next to the bar is a cafe that had painted the side walk. This makes it very slippery even when dry. They had just mopped it and sure enough I fell. As I went down, I instinctively put out my hand to break the fall. All my weight landed on my wrist and left side. Several people rushed up to help, but I limped off. I was sure my ego was more bruised than I was.
The following morning I awoke with a sprained ankle and wrist, a badly bruised hip and ached all over. I went to my masseur (who is also a licensed chiropractor in the US). I guess I felt a little better but my back still hurt. The following day, I awoke feeling better and it was Christmas Eve. I decided to take a walk down the Malecon at sunset to see if I could get some good photos. To my surprise there was very little going on (most Mexican families celebrate at home on Christmas Eve) and the sunset was not much. Many of the establishments that I knew were closed, so I headed back. Since I had not found a bar open that I liked, I was headed for Frida's. In front of the Plaza Cardenas the side walk slightly slopes down. Suddenly I lost my balance and could not regain it. I managed to stagger for a few feet then saw the concrete sidewalk coming up. For an unexplained reason, I did not try to protect my head with my hands and I went down hard on my head (maybe I thought of my already sprained wrist). Many of you must think by now, that I am some hopeless old falling down drunk. You would not be entirely wrong, except this time it was 7:00 at night and I had not had a single drop of alcohol.
Again several people appeared to help me up. I knew I had hit my head, but thought that if I just sat down and rested for a while I would be fine. Then a vendor ran up with a bag of ice for my head. As soon as I put the bag to my head, I knew I was in trouble. Not only was it very painful, but I could feel a bump the size of a small egg. I decided to take the offer of two strangers to help me to a hospital. I was still confused and directed them down the wrong street, but finally found the hospital. They left and I called my friend. He came immediately.
The nurses spoke no English at all, but a very nice doctor appeared who did. The hospitals by the way, are very nice here. You would not know one from any in the United States. After taking my blood pressure (110 over 190), he gave me something to put under my tongue (it tasted awful). My friend looked horrified and I told him that I had not seen myself yet. He told me it was best I did not, but he did take a picture. They wrapped my head in a large ace bandage and after my blood pressure was down to 90 over 140, they let me go. Richard called a cab and took me home. He had people waiting for him at a restaurant so he left.
After a few glasses of wine and a sleeping pill I went to bed and slept for 10 hours or more. I am very surprised and amazed, that I am not that sore. I removed the ace bandage and got a look at what I had done to my head. I decided to put it back on. I will buy one of those trendy head bands the "jocks' wear when I go out again. I have now lived here for over one year and the only times I have fallen happened within one week. Let's hope 2012 is a better safer year for all of us. Don't expect Christmas card or letters from me, but I do wish you all "Happy Holidays"
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After living here for just a few days, I realized what my greatest fear was. It was not a fear of being blown away by a drug lord (I don't deal in drugs). It was not a fear of being kidnapped (no one would pay more than $100.00 to get my out of "hock"). I wasn't even afraid of eating food from tacos stands. My greatest fear was falling. A broken hip would be disaster for me.
All the side walks have surprise levels of concrete. There are cables bracing telephone poles that are bolted to hooks in the middle of the sidewalks. Some sidewalks suddenly end in a drop of a foot or more. I have never seen so many people on crutches or canes as I have here (of course the population is pretty old). The cobble stone streets are difficult even with out pot holes.
Last week I went to Apache's (one of my favorite bars) and had two margaritas from Endra. I knew if she made them, they would have very little alcohol in them (Andreas' margaritas are lethal). Next to the bar is a cafe that had painted the side walk. This makes it very slippery even when dry. They had just mopped it and sure enough I fell. As I went down, I instinctively put out my hand to break the fall. All my weight landed on my wrist and left side. Several people rushed up to help, but I limped off. I was sure my ego was more bruised than I was.
The following morning I awoke with a sprained ankle and wrist, a badly bruised hip and ached all over. I went to my masseur (who is also a licensed chiropractor in the US). I guess I felt a little better but my back still hurt. The following day, I awoke feeling better and it was Christmas Eve. I decided to take a walk down the Malecon at sunset to see if I could get some good photos. To my surprise there was very little going on (most Mexican families celebrate at home on Christmas Eve) and the sunset was not much. Many of the establishments that I knew were closed, so I headed back. Since I had not found a bar open that I liked, I was headed for Frida's. In front of the Plaza Cardenas the side walk slightly slopes down. Suddenly I lost my balance and could not regain it. I managed to stagger for a few feet then saw the concrete sidewalk coming up. For an unexplained reason, I did not try to protect my head with my hands and I went down hard on my head (maybe I thought of my already sprained wrist). Many of you must think by now, that I am some hopeless old falling down drunk. You would not be entirely wrong, except this time it was 7:00 at night and I had not had a single drop of alcohol.
Again several people appeared to help me up. I knew I had hit my head, but thought that if I just sat down and rested for a while I would be fine. Then a vendor ran up with a bag of ice for my head. As soon as I put the bag to my head, I knew I was in trouble. Not only was it very painful, but I could feel a bump the size of a small egg. I decided to take the offer of two strangers to help me to a hospital. I was still confused and directed them down the wrong street, but finally found the hospital. They left and I called my friend. He came immediately.
After a few glasses of wine and a sleeping pill I went to bed and slept for 10 hours or more. I am very surprised and amazed, that I am not that sore. I removed the ace bandage and got a look at what I had done to my head. I decided to put it back on. I will buy one of those trendy head bands the "jocks' wear when I go out again. I have now lived here for over one year and the only times I have fallen happened within one week. Let's hope 2012 is a better safer year for all of us. Don't expect Christmas card or letters from me, but I do wish you all "Happy Holidays"
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Tuesday, December 13, 2011
THE COCKTAIL PARTY
Granted, it had been years since I entertained, but I used to be pretty good at it (in fact some of my Laguna Parties were nearly legendary). I had never entertained in Mexico, but how hard could it be to have a few friends over for cocktails??
Well first of all shopping is an experience in Mexico. You have to go from shop to shop to shop to find what you want, and sometimes you don't. It seems that vermouth is just not available here. What was I to do about my martini swilling friends? The stores have red, but no white vermouth. I finally broke down and told them that either they bring a specimen bottle of vermouth, or there wouldn't be any. They told me that they brought theirs down from Canada, but that straight vodka would be just fine. Of course it has to be shaken with ice (never stirred) and my silver cocktail shaker is somewhere in storage. I finally managed to borrow one from my favorite bar.
I had to stock up on all sorts of booze, not being sure what anyone drank. As it turned out, no one had any gin or rum, but we went through three bottles of tequila and two of vodka (mind you it was a small party of about 20 people). We also ran completely out of the mixing stuff for Margaritas. Then came hors d'oeuvres. I bought several cheeses, nuts and made some ham rolls, and a couple of dips. My friend made his fabulous guacamole. Then I went to Los Mercados (where the 'white folk' shop) to buy some hot hors d'oeuvres. All together there was lots of food and between the booze and food must have spent my months allowance.
Rule No. 1 for a good cocktail party is to have more guests than chairs. That way people mingle and talk to everyone and the party is more lively (otherwise they all sit in packs and only talk to each other). Would you believe I have 16 chairs and four ottomans in this little apartment. I placed all the dinning chairs against the wall, but that did not keep people from pulling them out and sitting on them. Next time I will hide all six chairs in the laundry room. Now granted some people (especially the friends my age) have to sit. But I find they are usually interesting people and people will gravitate around them. It started slowly (no one in Mexico arrives on time) and 10 or 12 people did not show up at all. No one calls or gives excuses here, they are just no shows and may not even mention it again. Mexican culture is different.
Everyone wanted to be on the patio where I had four equipauli chairs around a table. I put no food out there at all, for I knew people would sit there all night and not move. Finally two more chairs were added to the already crowded patio. My two most entertaining guest whom I counted on to be the life of the party sat together on the sofa. I finally managed to get them up and moving about, but they too wound up on the patio. Meanwhile I had eight platters of food sitting uneaten. I gave up and carried some to the patio.
I had hired my favorite bar tender who did a wonderful job of keeping everyone happy and their glasses full. I like to be free to make sure I greet each guest upon arrival and get them with someone they are comfortable with. I also make sure to say a special "thank you, and good night" at the door when they leave ( one did escape, totally unnoticed by me). The booze was flowing and everyone seemed to be having a good time in spite of the fact that I kept trying to get people up and moving around, The "white folks" all left at a reasonable hour, but the Mexican contingent stayed on (taking over all the patio chairs) and started doing shots of tequila. I only had two real shot glasses so they were drinking the shots out of water glasses (hence the three bottles of tequila). One of my Mexican guests had brought a good bottle of tequila, so I did not mind the booze consumption, but my midnight I was fading fast. I finally asked my friend to suggest a cab (there is also a cab stand across the street, one more thing I did not pay attention to when I rented the place). Everyone said they had a wonderful time.
I awoke late and very tired, but determined to clean the place up. NO WATER!! I could not wash dishes, or do the floor (let alone take a shower). It was off for two and a half days. The owner apparently will not give the management company money to pay for anything. Marcello the maintenance man or "super" said that she will not even buy him the proper tools to fix things in the building. He borrows mine when ever he can. My Realtor said, "there was nothing more they could do". Well I fired off a fiery letter stating that they had better figure out what else they can do since they rented three more apartments after I told them of all the problems. I did get the emails of the other tenants and sent them all a letter. I started it with "Welcome To Our Little House of Horrors) I then got them all together to go "en mass" to the management office and tell them that no more rent will be paid until all our grievances are met. By noon the water was running again. We will probably never find out the real problem.
You can probably think of some problems with having no water. Luckily I have bottles of hand sanitizer, but it takes a half a large bottle of drinking water for one flushing of the toilet. Three days later, I still had dirty dishes and glasses in the sink from the party. The floor was a mess (it usually is in Mexico) but at least I now have water. Of course it is brown when it first starts flowing. I almost did not want to use it to mop the floors. Eventually it clears up (you don't want to think about what might be still floating in it). Yes, there are problems with living in a third world country, but please do not think that my problems are typical of all rental situations. I just picked a "lulu" of a building. But, I am here and making the most of it and do like the way the apartment looks. I finally gave up and bought my own TV, eventually I will buy a microwave. I don't think I will ever get anything out of the management company, but all I really want is a new contract with a new starting date. I am sure we both hope that I don't have to write another posting on this apartment.
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Well first of all shopping is an experience in Mexico. You have to go from shop to shop to shop to find what you want, and sometimes you don't. It seems that vermouth is just not available here. What was I to do about my martini swilling friends? The stores have red, but no white vermouth. I finally broke down and told them that either they bring a specimen bottle of vermouth, or there wouldn't be any. They told me that they brought theirs down from Canada, but that straight vodka would be just fine. Of course it has to be shaken with ice (never stirred) and my silver cocktail shaker is somewhere in storage. I finally managed to borrow one from my favorite bar.
I had to stock up on all sorts of booze, not being sure what anyone drank. As it turned out, no one had any gin or rum, but we went through three bottles of tequila and two of vodka (mind you it was a small party of about 20 people). We also ran completely out of the mixing stuff for Margaritas. Then came hors d'oeuvres. I bought several cheeses, nuts and made some ham rolls, and a couple of dips. My friend made his fabulous guacamole. Then I went to Los Mercados (where the 'white folk' shop) to buy some hot hors d'oeuvres. All together there was lots of food and between the booze and food must have spent my months allowance.
Rule No. 1 for a good cocktail party is to have more guests than chairs. That way people mingle and talk to everyone and the party is more lively (otherwise they all sit in packs and only talk to each other). Would you believe I have 16 chairs and four ottomans in this little apartment. I placed all the dinning chairs against the wall, but that did not keep people from pulling them out and sitting on them. Next time I will hide all six chairs in the laundry room. Now granted some people (especially the friends my age) have to sit. But I find they are usually interesting people and people will gravitate around them. It started slowly (no one in Mexico arrives on time) and 10 or 12 people did not show up at all. No one calls or gives excuses here, they are just no shows and may not even mention it again. Mexican culture is different.
Everyone wanted to be on the patio where I had four equipauli chairs around a table. I put no food out there at all, for I knew people would sit there all night and not move. Finally two more chairs were added to the already crowded patio. My two most entertaining guest whom I counted on to be the life of the party sat together on the sofa. I finally managed to get them up and moving about, but they too wound up on the patio. Meanwhile I had eight platters of food sitting uneaten. I gave up and carried some to the patio.
I had hired my favorite bar tender who did a wonderful job of keeping everyone happy and their glasses full. I like to be free to make sure I greet each guest upon arrival and get them with someone they are comfortable with. I also make sure to say a special "thank you, and good night" at the door when they leave ( one did escape, totally unnoticed by me). The booze was flowing and everyone seemed to be having a good time in spite of the fact that I kept trying to get people up and moving around, The "white folks" all left at a reasonable hour, but the Mexican contingent stayed on (taking over all the patio chairs) and started doing shots of tequila. I only had two real shot glasses so they were drinking the shots out of water glasses (hence the three bottles of tequila). One of my Mexican guests had brought a good bottle of tequila, so I did not mind the booze consumption, but my midnight I was fading fast. I finally asked my friend to suggest a cab (there is also a cab stand across the street, one more thing I did not pay attention to when I rented the place). Everyone said they had a wonderful time.
I awoke late and very tired, but determined to clean the place up. NO WATER!! I could not wash dishes, or do the floor (let alone take a shower). It was off for two and a half days. The owner apparently will not give the management company money to pay for anything. Marcello the maintenance man or "super" said that she will not even buy him the proper tools to fix things in the building. He borrows mine when ever he can. My Realtor said, "there was nothing more they could do". Well I fired off a fiery letter stating that they had better figure out what else they can do since they rented three more apartments after I told them of all the problems. I did get the emails of the other tenants and sent them all a letter. I started it with "Welcome To Our Little House of Horrors) I then got them all together to go "en mass" to the management office and tell them that no more rent will be paid until all our grievances are met. By noon the water was running again. We will probably never find out the real problem.
You can probably think of some problems with having no water. Luckily I have bottles of hand sanitizer, but it takes a half a large bottle of drinking water for one flushing of the toilet. Three days later, I still had dirty dishes and glasses in the sink from the party. The floor was a mess (it usually is in Mexico) but at least I now have water. Of course it is brown when it first starts flowing. I almost did not want to use it to mop the floors. Eventually it clears up (you don't want to think about what might be still floating in it). Yes, there are problems with living in a third world country, but please do not think that my problems are typical of all rental situations. I just picked a "lulu" of a building. But, I am here and making the most of it and do like the way the apartment looks. I finally gave up and bought my own TV, eventually I will buy a microwave. I don't think I will ever get anything out of the management company, but all I really want is a new contract with a new starting date. I am sure we both hope that I don't have to write another posting on this apartment.
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Friday, December 2, 2011
HOME AT LAST!
When I left six weeks ago, I really expected to return to a fully furnished and air conditioned apartment. My friends had been checking on the progress and did not give me many encouraging words. It was always tomorrow (manana) but it never happened. My first thought was to walk into the manager's office on Monday morning and tear the place apart, but a friend prevailed upon to try to be nice. I went in and simply asked, "Why?" No real answer has ever been given, just "sorrys" and promises that it will all be taken care of tomorrow. It never was. If it had not been for the kindness of my friend I would have been living in a hotel. I reminded her of that, and the fact that I had paid four months of rent and the place was still unlivable. She insisted that it was just a "delivery problem" (for three months??)
Suddenly my Realtor reappeared. He has now rented four of the units in the building (I was just the first unlucky sole to attempt to move in). His client was arriving at 5:00 that evening and the apartment was not ready (What a surprise!!). I had been telling him that for months. His wife (an American) then got involved and contacted the head of the management company running the building. Eventually a lawyer was contacted and they spoke to the owner. The appliances that I had been expected for months were then purchased locally at Walmart (no less) and delivered the following day (well sort of). Because of the buses in front of the building, the delivery man refused to carry them to the building (no one ever uses a dolly here). After about 15 minutes of an argument I witnessed, he dropped them on the street!
Thanks to my new friend Jose (who moved my plants) they managed to get them to my apartment and the new guy's place. However nothing was connected. I realized that there was no gas line or vent duct for the dryer included, so I ran off to the hardware store to buy them myself. When I returned, there was no one here. Everyone had gone home. The next day everything was connected so I move in. Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you that they finally got the air conditioner working, and the rest of the furniture was also delivered earlier that week. It is hideous Mexican modern made of paste board painted black. The bed was a little more than a foot off the floor (I think someone forgot the feet), but the nightstands are also only one foot tall. The washer dryer are great, but the refrigerator is Lilliputian. The freezer is below eye level and it is on top. The TV and microwave are coming on a later truck. I hope not the one from Guadalajara that has been "delayed" for three months. No real explanation of why the "delayed delivery" has ever been given.
Once in the apartment a new problem developed. I came home from the beach one day and noticed a slick streak on the floor. It was tiny beads of water. If not mopped up the beads of water become puddles. Originally the streak started at the hall closet door, made a 90 degree angle into the living room and then another 90 degree angle under my desk. Every time I mop it up, it will reappear. At first I thought it must be my hot water pipes in the cement floor and reacts to the cold tile. But the streaks continue to grow and now go under the dinning table and in front of the sofa. There are no wet steaks anywhere near the kitchen or laundry room. I think the place is haunted. By accident I discovered that if I leave the fan on high, it dries up, so it is definitely some sort of moisture problem (probably never to be solved).
My drapery lady is another sad story. I paid her in advance two month ago for labor, materials and installation. It was supposed to be done before I moved in (it was not). When I got back I found her phone no longer working. I called the shade man that recommended her and he said that she lost her phone and had a new number and that she told him everything was done. I called her and I think a week or so later she arrived with the drapes and valance. Every day she said it would be tomorrow (manana again). The valance was a meter too short (not inches but a yard) and the drapes were four inches too long so they drug on the floor. She took them back and I think it took another week to deliver the drapes. They are unlined (she saw my old lined drapes) and the hem is off from side to side by about three inches. I told her I did not care, but put them up and bring me the valance. She never did and now does not answer her phone. I called the shade man back and he said she was sick, but would look into it. How could one person make so many bad choices on one apartment???
Oh well, it is going to be home for a while. There is no use even looking during the "high season". Next summer I will reassess the situation. I have poured a lot of time and money in the place and the location is great even if it is over a bus depot (all Mismaloya buses leave from my building) But, you know what they say in real estate about "location". Also Jose and his wife have set up a little food stand under my balcony where I can get coffee cake and fresh fruit every morning. I should also mention that across from the bus loading zone are seven taco stands, that I have yet to try. I still have no TV or microwave and I have yet to get a new lease eliminating the first two months. But we will see how it goes. I have invited some friends over for cocktails this Friday to see the apartment. I am going to send you a few photos, but remember it is still not done yet (and may never be done). The mural was from a former tenant (they were going to paint it out) so I took a color out of the painting and did the whole room.
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