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.
****************************************
Monday, July 2, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
JAPAN
How does one describe, let alone explain Japan in one short posting? One can't; but of course I will try by giving you some of my observations. First the flight over is endless. You are in the air for 11 hours, plus getting to the airport, the wait at the airport (4 hours as the plane was late in leaving). Once I got to Narita Airport, I had to find the desk that sells the bus tickets to the city where my friends live. By the time I found it, they said I had less than 30 minutes before the bus left. Enough time to get a beer and have a few cigarettes.
First observation about Japan. They sell beer out of vending machines. How do they control the use by minors? They don't have to for the Japanese are trained from birth to do what they are told. They never question authority. Japan enjoys one of the lowest crime rates in the world. Of course they have their share of kooks, like the ones who spread serin gas in a subway 14 years ago. Some of the perpetrators have been jailed, but others remained uncaught. Amazingly the leader's photo was shown almost daily in the newspapers where he was shown on video tapes, shopping. They just caught him (only 14 years later).
Back to my trip: the bus ride was almost 3 hours long. Your first impression of Japan is how green it is. The airport appears to have been built on a peninsula of what had been rice fields. Although there are many tall mountains on the island nation, near the coast they have low rolling hills of mostly pine trees. Every inch of flat land is dedicated to rice farming. Small plots of land are divided up and flooded, then the tiny rice plants are neatly placed in rows. The vibrant green of the new rice plants is matched by the dense green growth along the highway (amazing since the rainy reason had yet to begin). The flooded rice fields mirror the small hills surrounding them. Amazingly rice (the staple of Japan) is priced like gourmet food. In order to protect the poor rice farmers, Japan allows almost no rice to be imported (even though it would be much cheaper)
We move on passing by Tokyo, dominated by the new SkyTower. It is the tallest building in the world (they added a few feet to it in order to best the one in Dubai). Nestled among the many high rises, you will see Disney World with the Sleeping Beauty Castle and the Matterhorn ride peaking up. Next you pass the many small cities on the outskirts of Tokyo. They resemble the small industrial cities that surround downtown L.A. with funny looking signs.
My friend's wife and a neighbor met me at the bus/train station in Ashikaga. She had the neighbor drive for she knew I would arrive with a huge suitcase and the neighbor drove a large SUV. Fortunately I did not arrive until it was almost dark. After catching up on things, I went to bed (after almost 24 hours awake). Mostly we just visited, went to lunch and watched old movies. My friend has an enormous collection of movies (we watched all 6 episodes of Harry Potter). Noriko, (Kyl's wife) works at least 16 hours a day. She not only cleans the house, cooks, does the dishes, laundry, iron etc. She also spends a couple of hours every day in their garden. The house was built on a Western plan with a few exceptions. There is a Gencon entry and the main bathroom is downstairs. Due to the frequent earthquakes, they don't put tubs on showers on the second floor. Yes, we had a couple of really good shakes while I was there.
You may be surprised to hear that most of the meals we had were either French, Italian, or Chinese. Of course we had to go to a sushi restaurant. The group of men seating that look like they are playing video games or at slot machines are actually eating sushi. Out of the kitchen comes a conveyer belt that wraps around three or four seating sections. When you see what you want, you simple pick it up off the belt. The color of the plates will tell the waitress what to charge. Most restaurants in Japan have a button that rings a bell for the waitress and this one also had a tap for hot water for tea. The Japanese are so cleanly minded that many restaurants also have a basin in the entry to watch your hands. You also always get a hot towel to clean your hands.
My favorite chef was Yoshio who studied under a French chef. He can prepare anything and always beautifully presented. I am including a picture of my lamb chops with mustard sauce and a typical dessert dish. My favorite Japanese food is tempura, but it is not as popular in Japan as you might think. We had to drive for about 30 or 40 minutes for the best tempura restaurant. The koi pond was in front of this restaurant. Don't expect to see a lot of Japanese gardens. Although my friends have a lovely garden carefully tended by Noriko, the house across the street is surrounded by gravel; not one tree or shrub. This is more typical than you would think. Many large homes have no landscaping at all. If there is a garden it is more reminiscent of an English garden with lots and lots of roses.
My friend Kyl has lived in Japan for over 40 years and teaches English. Sometimes in a class room and sometimes in his home. I sat in on several of his classes. Since I was introduced as an American living in Mexico, I expected questions on Mexico. No, they were only interested in what I thought about Japan. In spite of all the Japanese tourists you see everywhere, they mainly only think of Japan. It is a very closed, closeted society. It is the purest race in the world as immigration is almost impossible and they rarely intermarry. They have an enormous growing aging population. The birth rate is 1.2 children per family so it is a shrinking population.
At one class I expressed an interest in Zen Buddhism, so one his students (that I knew from other visits) gave me a book called "The Zen Way" I find it fascinating, but it is a very slow read. It is difficult for the Western mind to comprehend and understand the ways of Buddha (let alone a mind as old as mine). Ever try to hear the sound of one hand clapping, or smell the scent of blue? Like I said, it will take a long time to get through the book if I ever do. Sometimes I think that I push my mind and body too far for my advanced age. On the other hand I believe that if I did not, I would die (If not in body in spirit). And so I push on.
First observation about Japan. They sell beer out of vending machines. How do they control the use by minors? They don't have to for the Japanese are trained from birth to do what they are told. They never question authority. Japan enjoys one of the lowest crime rates in the world. Of course they have their share of kooks, like the ones who spread serin gas in a subway 14 years ago. Some of the perpetrators have been jailed, but others remained uncaught. Amazingly the leader's photo was shown almost daily in the newspapers where he was shown on video tapes, shopping. They just caught him (only 14 years later).
Back to my trip: the bus ride was almost 3 hours long. Your first impression of Japan is how green it is. The airport appears to have been built on a peninsula of what had been rice fields. Although there are many tall mountains on the island nation, near the coast they have low rolling hills of mostly pine trees. Every inch of flat land is dedicated to rice farming. Small plots of land are divided up and flooded, then the tiny rice plants are neatly placed in rows. The vibrant green of the new rice plants is matched by the dense green growth along the highway (amazing since the rainy reason had yet to begin). The flooded rice fields mirror the small hills surrounding them. Amazingly rice (the staple of Japan) is priced like gourmet food. In order to protect the poor rice farmers, Japan allows almost no rice to be imported (even though it would be much cheaper)
We move on passing by Tokyo, dominated by the new SkyTower. It is the tallest building in the world (they added a few feet to it in order to best the one in Dubai). Nestled among the many high rises, you will see Disney World with the Sleeping Beauty Castle and the Matterhorn ride peaking up. Next you pass the many small cities on the outskirts of Tokyo. They resemble the small industrial cities that surround downtown L.A. with funny looking signs.
My friend's wife and a neighbor met me at the bus/train station in Ashikaga. She had the neighbor drive for she knew I would arrive with a huge suitcase and the neighbor drove a large SUV. Fortunately I did not arrive until it was almost dark. After catching up on things, I went to bed (after almost 24 hours awake). Mostly we just visited, went to lunch and watched old movies. My friend has an enormous collection of movies (we watched all 6 episodes of Harry Potter). Noriko, (Kyl's wife) works at least 16 hours a day. She not only cleans the house, cooks, does the dishes, laundry, iron etc. She also spends a couple of hours every day in their garden. The house was built on a Western plan with a few exceptions. There is a Gencon entry and the main bathroom is downstairs. Due to the frequent earthquakes, they don't put tubs on showers on the second floor. Yes, we had a couple of really good shakes while I was there.
You may be surprised to hear that most of the meals we had were either French, Italian, or Chinese. Of course we had to go to a sushi restaurant. The group of men seating that look like they are playing video games or at slot machines are actually eating sushi. Out of the kitchen comes a conveyer belt that wraps around three or four seating sections. When you see what you want, you simple pick it up off the belt. The color of the plates will tell the waitress what to charge. Most restaurants in Japan have a button that rings a bell for the waitress and this one also had a tap for hot water for tea. The Japanese are so cleanly minded that many restaurants also have a basin in the entry to watch your hands. You also always get a hot towel to clean your hands.
My friend Kyl has lived in Japan for over 40 years and teaches English. Sometimes in a class room and sometimes in his home. I sat in on several of his classes. Since I was introduced as an American living in Mexico, I expected questions on Mexico. No, they were only interested in what I thought about Japan. In spite of all the Japanese tourists you see everywhere, they mainly only think of Japan. It is a very closed, closeted society. It is the purest race in the world as immigration is almost impossible and they rarely intermarry. They have an enormous growing aging population. The birth rate is 1.2 children per family so it is a shrinking population.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
MY LAST TRIP
It was over six weeks ago and may have been my last trip to what I used to call "home". Not because I am about to die, but because there isn't much left there to go back to. Before I moved to Mexico many of my close friends had died or moved. There are maybe a half dozen people that I do enjoy seeing (they can visit me). Oh well yes, I will go back one day, but not any time soon.
When I moved out of my house, I rented a storage area and moved in what I thought I could not live without (how wrong I was). I think the rent was $120.00 a month at first. Each six months, they raised it to the point that it was now $200.00 a month (a lot of money here in Mexico). For over one year I had tried to find someone who would drive some of the stuff down to Puerto Vallarta. On this trip my former gardener said he had someone who would do it, but could not give me a price without seeing how much I wanted to move.
One early morning I met my gardener and the man I assumed was the truck driver. He explained (or rather my gardener explained for him) that he was taking a trunk to Tepic and could put my furniture in the back of the truck. It would pass with do duty. He did not care about weight, but measured everything to assess the volume it would create. He could deliver it to an address in Tepic for me to move, or rent another truck to bring it all the way to Purerto Vallarta (about a 5 or 6 hour drive). for a higher price. I asked "how much more" and he said another $125.00! The entire move would cost $850,00. I was thrilled and told him it's a deal! Knowing that weight was not a problem I began packing more stuff into the Mexican trunk and breakfront.
With the idea of the furniture going, I decided it was time to clear out the rest of my "stuff" and empty the storage unit. Once I began to open boxes I found that a lot of it consisted of paper products, spices, and general kitchen stuff. What my friend couldn't use I threw away. Another friend who ran a consignment shop said that he would try to "get rid" of some of it. Besides 30 or 40 paintings I had boxes of Lalique, Baccarat, and Waterford crystal. He told me that he knew someone who handled more "high end" things and had him call me. I took him to the unit and started opening box after box. Much of it I had forgotten I owned. At first I was a little reluctant to part with some of the pieces that I had lived with for 40 years or more. Some were fairly expensive. I had a baccarat horse that cost $1,250.00 and I knew one Lalique bowl went for $750.00. I also gave him my grandfathers gold watch, several ivory pieces, and two painting that were by "know" artists, plus a sterling silver candelabra. I told him to just take it all and make of a list and tell me how much he thought it was worth.
At retail, we are talking about $7 to $10,000, but I figured he would only offer maybe 25 cents on the dollar. When I was told that the six boxes of crystal, a sterling silver candelabra, ivory, and paintings came to $500.00 (about 5 cents on the dollar) I was shocked. Then I thought, it was stuff I had enjoyed for many, many years, I now had a new life and I would be saving $200.00 a month. I had already sold a couple hundred dollars worth and my friend with the consignment store could send me what ever he made later.
At 6:00am I met the "supposed" driver at my storage unit. He was standing out side the gate and when I opened the gate he motioned for someone else to pull in a small pick up truck. Many of the larger items I wanted to bring down would not fit (including the life sized portrait of me!!) As it was they had to stack everything so the legs of the chairs were poking into the leather. One table was inlaid wood and it was raining. The truck had no top or tarp. Some how they managed with ropes to secure it which was now about an eight foot high pile of furniture and "stuff". I handed the man I had originally met the $850.00. He gave $100.00 to the truck driver and he drove off. I wondered how long it would be, or even "if" I would ever see the stuff again.
After about three weeks I called my gardener to find out where the truck was. He said he would call me back. He did not, so I called him. He said that he had tried to reach me to say that it should be there very soon. A month passed and finally six weeks after the truck left my storage unit, I reached my gardener again. He insisted that Arturo (the truck driver) had sent me several messages and so had he. I never got them, so what is the bottom line? I was leaving for Japan in a week. Then I found out that he and Arturo had been texting my "magic jack" line. It is a computer phone that takes messages, but not text messages. At least I felt somewhat relieved to know that "maybe" I might see the "stuff' again. He said it should arrive in a week, but that "someone" would call me a few days before.
Three days before I was to fly to Japan, I called my gardener again, for I still had heard from no one. He said that "who ever" had my furniture had a storage area in Tepic and could put it there until I returned. I don't even know who has the furniture and not sure that my gardener did either, but told him that I would call him when I got back and either arrange for them to get it to me, or my young Mexican friend (whose mother lives in Tepic) would pick it up for me.
After finishing packing and watering all the plants I decided that rather than clean the apartment one more time I would go off to the beach. On my way back home, one of the men who sell tours below me said that someone came with some chairs. He wasn't sure if I was still here, or in Japan, but the guy said he would try again. WHEN!!! I was leaving for Japan in a matter of hours and had no way to contact the man.
Why no one every calls you ahead of time, I do not know. But they don't. I waited around about 3 hours and did manage to shower. I had already missed "happy hour" and had nothing in the refrigerator to eat, so I decided to tape a note to the door telling "who ever" showed up that I was around the corner at the local bar. Just then my buzzer rang. One guy in a truck big enough to have hauled several households was parked around the corner. I had to bribe one of the bus drivers to move out of the way and finally he started to unload. My stuff was definately not the only stuff on it. There was a car toward the back. Any way it is here piled in my living room. It was all there, one French chair had a broken leg, but what really surprised me was that everything was wrapped. Cardboard had been wrapped around and then it was all sealed in plastic. When or where this occurred I have no idea. Now I just have to remember what I did with the key I used to lock the cabinet. I will sort it out when I get back from Japan.
Oh by the way, I will be in Japan for almost a month, so don't expect anything too soon.
******************************************
When I moved out of my house, I rented a storage area and moved in what I thought I could not live without (how wrong I was). I think the rent was $120.00 a month at first. Each six months, they raised it to the point that it was now $200.00 a month (a lot of money here in Mexico). For over one year I had tried to find someone who would drive some of the stuff down to Puerto Vallarta. On this trip my former gardener said he had someone who would do it, but could not give me a price without seeing how much I wanted to move.
One early morning I met my gardener and the man I assumed was the truck driver. He explained (or rather my gardener explained for him) that he was taking a trunk to Tepic and could put my furniture in the back of the truck. It would pass with do duty. He did not care about weight, but measured everything to assess the volume it would create. He could deliver it to an address in Tepic for me to move, or rent another truck to bring it all the way to Purerto Vallarta (about a 5 or 6 hour drive). for a higher price. I asked "how much more" and he said another $125.00! The entire move would cost $850,00. I was thrilled and told him it's a deal! Knowing that weight was not a problem I began packing more stuff into the Mexican trunk and breakfront.
With the idea of the furniture going, I decided it was time to clear out the rest of my "stuff" and empty the storage unit. Once I began to open boxes I found that a lot of it consisted of paper products, spices, and general kitchen stuff. What my friend couldn't use I threw away. Another friend who ran a consignment shop said that he would try to "get rid" of some of it. Besides 30 or 40 paintings I had boxes of Lalique, Baccarat, and Waterford crystal. He told me that he knew someone who handled more "high end" things and had him call me. I took him to the unit and started opening box after box. Much of it I had forgotten I owned. At first I was a little reluctant to part with some of the pieces that I had lived with for 40 years or more. Some were fairly expensive. I had a baccarat horse that cost $1,250.00 and I knew one Lalique bowl went for $750.00. I also gave him my grandfathers gold watch, several ivory pieces, and two painting that were by "know" artists, plus a sterling silver candelabra. I told him to just take it all and make of a list and tell me how much he thought it was worth.
At retail, we are talking about $7 to $10,000, but I figured he would only offer maybe 25 cents on the dollar. When I was told that the six boxes of crystal, a sterling silver candelabra, ivory, and paintings came to $500.00 (about 5 cents on the dollar) I was shocked. Then I thought, it was stuff I had enjoyed for many, many years, I now had a new life and I would be saving $200.00 a month. I had already sold a couple hundred dollars worth and my friend with the consignment store could send me what ever he made later.
At 6:00am I met the "supposed" driver at my storage unit. He was standing out side the gate and when I opened the gate he motioned for someone else to pull in a small pick up truck. Many of the larger items I wanted to bring down would not fit (including the life sized portrait of me!!) As it was they had to stack everything so the legs of the chairs were poking into the leather. One table was inlaid wood and it was raining. The truck had no top or tarp. Some how they managed with ropes to secure it which was now about an eight foot high pile of furniture and "stuff". I handed the man I had originally met the $850.00. He gave $100.00 to the truck driver and he drove off. I wondered how long it would be, or even "if" I would ever see the stuff again.
After about three weeks I called my gardener to find out where the truck was. He said he would call me back. He did not, so I called him. He said that he had tried to reach me to say that it should be there very soon. A month passed and finally six weeks after the truck left my storage unit, I reached my gardener again. He insisted that Arturo (the truck driver) had sent me several messages and so had he. I never got them, so what is the bottom line? I was leaving for Japan in a week. Then I found out that he and Arturo had been texting my "magic jack" line. It is a computer phone that takes messages, but not text messages. At least I felt somewhat relieved to know that "maybe" I might see the "stuff' again. He said it should arrive in a week, but that "someone" would call me a few days before.
Three days before I was to fly to Japan, I called my gardener again, for I still had heard from no one. He said that "who ever" had my furniture had a storage area in Tepic and could put it there until I returned. I don't even know who has the furniture and not sure that my gardener did either, but told him that I would call him when I got back and either arrange for them to get it to me, or my young Mexican friend (whose mother lives in Tepic) would pick it up for me.
After finishing packing and watering all the plants I decided that rather than clean the apartment one more time I would go off to the beach. On my way back home, one of the men who sell tours below me said that someone came with some chairs. He wasn't sure if I was still here, or in Japan, but the guy said he would try again. WHEN!!! I was leaving for Japan in a matter of hours and had no way to contact the man.
Oh by the way, I will be in Japan for almost a month, so don't expect anything too soon.
******************************************
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
A BANK ACCOUNT IN MEXICO
Doing anything financial in Mexico is always a problem, so I was prepared (I thought) for spending some time to open an account. I had thought about it since I moved here and I was told that with my FM3 card I could open one. One, if I ever needed a large sum of money, it would be difficult (if not impossible) to get it from an ATM machine. With an open account here, I could have my bank transfer money when (and if) I needed it.
I have also been talking about visiting Cuba. I really did not want to use a charge or debit card in Cuba that could access what little money have left in the U.S, and I was told they do not like American currency. Why, I am not sure since the exchange rate is 1000 Cuban pesos per dollar. I thought with a small account here and carrying some Mexican pesos, I would be fine, since my friend assured me that it would be quite cheap..
Armed with my passport and FM3 card and my check book from the United States I entered the bank where I use the ATM machine. That bank is associated with Bank of American so I pay no ATM fee, nor do I pay a conversion fee. There were at least 5 windows, but everyone was seated in the middle of the room. There was one young man seated at the only desk in the lobby, but he was on the phone. I stood in front of him for at least ten minutes and when he refused to acknowledge my presence, I sat at the chair in front of him. At this point he put the person on hold, so I told him that I wanted to open an account. He motioned to the group of chairs in the middle of the room and said, ":Sit down".
I sat there for a while then realized that everyone was getting a numbers out of a machine by the door. Numbers were posted on a screen telling you which window to go to. I got a number and sat down again. Then I notice that the numbers on the screen were past the number I held in my hand and went back to the man at the desk. He said, "Sit down!" Finally my number came up (maybe they run them backwards here). I went to the window and told the girl I wanted to open an account. She told me to see the man in the cubicle around the corner. He too was on the phone. I sat down and waited while he remained on the phone for another 5 or 10 minutes, then I finally had the opportunity to tell him why I was there,. He spoke not one word of English, so he called the young man at the first desk. I was pleased to discover he spoke more that two words, ("Sit down!") I asked if I could open the account with a check. No! he said, We do not take checks. Now I am familiar with paperless banking, but it did seem a little odd. I asked him how I could get money from a US bank to his bank. He handed me a paper with the routing number of Morgan Chase in New York. Well, that is nice I said, but I don't bank with Chase in New York and I would prefer to have an account open before having money transferred. He said, "Six thousand Pesos" and proper I.D". At that point I left went outside to their ATM and drew out 6,000 pesos. But when I returned someone else was sitting at the desk so I had to wait again.
Finally I got his attention and he took my passport and then he asked for a utility bill. I have my electric bill at home but not with me. "We cannot open an account without a utility bill" Why my passport and residency card (with my photo on it ) from the Mexican government is not enough, no on can explain. I left to get the electric bill and returned after lunch (I was hungry by then). Of course everyone was busy with other clients so I had to wait again. Not to be out maneuvered by someone else, so rather than sit, I stood by his cubicle. At last he was done, but unfortunately I had not brought the latest electric bill. After a deep sigh (and a little sobbing) he brought up my latest bill on his computer. Then he wanted two references: their name, telephone number, and addresses. Phone numbers are in my phone, addressed I do not have. No one here uses addresses as even cab drivers don't know addresses. Then he said, just put down your address. Does any of this make any sense to you??
Then he asked me to sign my name. Not once, not twice, but at least 20 times (sometimes twice on a page and then again on the back) At last I handed over the signatures and 6,000 pesos and shortly he handed me an ATM card, but said I could not use it for five days (is that 5 working days, or 5 Mexican days?). I could understand had I given them a check, but I gave them cash!! Oh, well it is Mexico.
But Wait!! There is more. The first young man suddenly rushed over and told me that my signatures did not look like the one in my passport. I would have to sign them all again. My hand had already begun to cramp and by this time I was shaking a little, As carefully as I could I repeated the 20 signatures and explained that the passport was 4 or 5 years old when I wasn't quite so old. In fact it said, "I was a young man when I first walked in here" He said he was satisfied and to come back in five days. Again I asked about transferring money from my U.S. account and he pointed to Morgan Chase.
Then I found out that my bank in the U.S, will not do international transfers on the internet. There is no way to initiate a transfer without returning to the U.S. Oh, well I thought at least I could use it in Cuba. I asked for the name of a bank I could use in Cuba, but he either did not understand or just decided to ignore me.
I waited for over a week to go back to the bank with several questions. One, I wanted to know how I could use the card in Cuba and I wanted a debit/charge card with my name on it. It took an equal amount of time to get someone's attention and he pretended not to understand a word I said. Finally I found someone who (I think) understood English and was told that the card was of no use in Cuba. I could not use it at an ATM nor could I book flights or charge with it. And NO! they do not give out charge cards or debit card with names on it. I decided that the account was of absolutely no benefit to me and told them I wanted to close the account. I was told to go outside and use the ATM machine. Would you believe it was OUT OF ORDER!! True, I swear I still don't have my money back. Ahhh Mexico!!
I have since found out that there is one bank here that does issue a charge/debit card that is usable in Cuba both for cash, booking flights to Cuba and for use as a charge card in Cuba. I have yet to muster up the necessary energy (and patience) to start all over again
************************
I have also been talking about visiting Cuba. I really did not want to use a charge or debit card in Cuba that could access what little money have left in the U.S, and I was told they do not like American currency. Why, I am not sure since the exchange rate is 1000 Cuban pesos per dollar. I thought with a small account here and carrying some Mexican pesos, I would be fine, since my friend assured me that it would be quite cheap..
Armed with my passport and FM3 card and my check book from the United States I entered the bank where I use the ATM machine. That bank is associated with Bank of American so I pay no ATM fee, nor do I pay a conversion fee. There were at least 5 windows, but everyone was seated in the middle of the room. There was one young man seated at the only desk in the lobby, but he was on the phone. I stood in front of him for at least ten minutes and when he refused to acknowledge my presence, I sat at the chair in front of him. At this point he put the person on hold, so I told him that I wanted to open an account. He motioned to the group of chairs in the middle of the room and said, ":Sit down".
I sat there for a while then realized that everyone was getting a numbers out of a machine by the door. Numbers were posted on a screen telling you which window to go to. I got a number and sat down again. Then I notice that the numbers on the screen were past the number I held in my hand and went back to the man at the desk. He said, "Sit down!" Finally my number came up (maybe they run them backwards here). I went to the window and told the girl I wanted to open an account. She told me to see the man in the cubicle around the corner. He too was on the phone. I sat down and waited while he remained on the phone for another 5 or 10 minutes, then I finally had the opportunity to tell him why I was there,. He spoke not one word of English, so he called the young man at the first desk. I was pleased to discover he spoke more that two words, ("Sit down!") I asked if I could open the account with a check. No! he said, We do not take checks. Now I am familiar with paperless banking, but it did seem a little odd. I asked him how I could get money from a US bank to his bank. He handed me a paper with the routing number of Morgan Chase in New York. Well, that is nice I said, but I don't bank with Chase in New York and I would prefer to have an account open before having money transferred. He said, "Six thousand Pesos" and proper I.D". At that point I left went outside to their ATM and drew out 6,000 pesos. But when I returned someone else was sitting at the desk so I had to wait again.
Finally I got his attention and he took my passport and then he asked for a utility bill. I have my electric bill at home but not with me. "We cannot open an account without a utility bill" Why my passport and residency card (with my photo on it ) from the Mexican government is not enough, no on can explain. I left to get the electric bill and returned after lunch (I was hungry by then). Of course everyone was busy with other clients so I had to wait again. Not to be out maneuvered by someone else, so rather than sit, I stood by his cubicle. At last he was done, but unfortunately I had not brought the latest electric bill. After a deep sigh (and a little sobbing) he brought up my latest bill on his computer. Then he wanted two references: their name, telephone number, and addresses. Phone numbers are in my phone, addressed I do not have. No one here uses addresses as even cab drivers don't know addresses. Then he said, just put down your address. Does any of this make any sense to you??
Then he asked me to sign my name. Not once, not twice, but at least 20 times (sometimes twice on a page and then again on the back) At last I handed over the signatures and 6,000 pesos and shortly he handed me an ATM card, but said I could not use it for five days (is that 5 working days, or 5 Mexican days?). I could understand had I given them a check, but I gave them cash!! Oh, well it is Mexico.
But Wait!! There is more. The first young man suddenly rushed over and told me that my signatures did not look like the one in my passport. I would have to sign them all again. My hand had already begun to cramp and by this time I was shaking a little, As carefully as I could I repeated the 20 signatures and explained that the passport was 4 or 5 years old when I wasn't quite so old. In fact it said, "I was a young man when I first walked in here" He said he was satisfied and to come back in five days. Again I asked about transferring money from my U.S. account and he pointed to Morgan Chase.
Then I found out that my bank in the U.S, will not do international transfers on the internet. There is no way to initiate a transfer without returning to the U.S. Oh, well I thought at least I could use it in Cuba. I asked for the name of a bank I could use in Cuba, but he either did not understand or just decided to ignore me.
I waited for over a week to go back to the bank with several questions. One, I wanted to know how I could use the card in Cuba and I wanted a debit/charge card with my name on it. It took an equal amount of time to get someone's attention and he pretended not to understand a word I said. Finally I found someone who (I think) understood English and was told that the card was of no use in Cuba. I could not use it at an ATM nor could I book flights or charge with it. And NO! they do not give out charge cards or debit card with names on it. I decided that the account was of absolutely no benefit to me and told them I wanted to close the account. I was told to go outside and use the ATM machine. Would you believe it was OUT OF ORDER!! True, I swear I still don't have my money back. Ahhh Mexico!!
I have since found out that there is one bank here that does issue a charge/debit card that is usable in Cuba both for cash, booking flights to Cuba and for use as a charge card in Cuba. I have yet to muster up the necessary energy (and patience) to start all over again
************************
Thursday, April 19, 2012
A HOUSE IN BUCERIOS
A young Mexican friend of mine had told me he was building a house in Buscerios for his retirement. When he offered to show it to me, I eagerly agreed. I had never been to Buscerios, but had heard that it was a small quaint town half way around the bay from Puerto Vallarta.
Because he was currently living in Nayarite, I told him I would take the bus there to meet him. He told me to take the blue bus to the Walmart I knew, then change buses to the Nagarite Walmart. What he failed to tell me was that it was a different bus line and for too long I waited at the wrong bus stop. Finally I found someone who spoke English and he explained that I had to take the ATM bus to get to Nagarite and that bus stop was a block away. There is always something new to learn about buses here.
At the second bus stop, I still had trouble finding the right bus that would stop at the other Walmart. Finally I found a friendly bus driver who told me that he would stop there. There were the usual hand painted signs on the windshield, but none said "Walmart". Once I was seated I noticed that there was a printed board behind the driver listing all their stops (of course the sign could only be seen once you were seated).
Due to the confusion I was a little late, so he was already standing beside his shiny pick up truck. My first thought was that with such a big truck, he could help with my next move. It was only about a 15 minute drive to the little town of Bucerios, but his home was being built 10 kilometers out side the town (don't ask me how far that is, as I do not know). We traveled through farm land that reminded me more of Iowa than Mexico as there were acres of corn fields intermixed with cow pastures and some horses.
The new developement where he decided to build is accessable only over dirt roads (he said they would all be paved soon. I wonder by whom). Just outside the subdivision there are some very large buildings. I was informed that it was to be a new University, so he is sure the property value would jump in a few years. The house is quite nice and large, but is currently only a concrete shell. All the electricity and plumbing is all in place including ducts for air conditioning. His contractor was just beginning to lay the marble floors in one of the upper bedrooms. It has three bedrooms and two and one half baths. Most impressive to me was that he was building an adjacent structure for an apartment and commercial space (there is no zoning here). You can see the rebar rising on the right side of the house.
The house was quite impressive for any area, let alone Mexico. I was amazed that this young kid (well, young to me, he is 30 years old) was able to make enough money to build it. He does work two jobs (one in the afternoon, and one at night) and works 6 days a week. It has taken almost four years to get it this far, but still I was very impressed. He claimed to have designed the home including the high ceilings and arch shaped window in the staircase.
After viewing the home and listening to all his plans for it, we went back into town and had lunch at a tiny restaurant near the beach. I had a huge bowl of cheviche. It is a very charming town with the traditional zoacalo and gazebo. The main street leading down to the beach is lined with colorful stands selling everything. I enjoyed the day and seeing his home and Bucerios, but still don't want to live there. I like the Zona Romantica.
Because he was currently living in Nayarite, I told him I would take the bus there to meet him. He told me to take the blue bus to the Walmart I knew, then change buses to the Nagarite Walmart. What he failed to tell me was that it was a different bus line and for too long I waited at the wrong bus stop. Finally I found someone who spoke English and he explained that I had to take the ATM bus to get to Nagarite and that bus stop was a block away. There is always something new to learn about buses here.
At the second bus stop, I still had trouble finding the right bus that would stop at the other Walmart. Finally I found a friendly bus driver who told me that he would stop there. There were the usual hand painted signs on the windshield, but none said "Walmart". Once I was seated I noticed that there was a printed board behind the driver listing all their stops (of course the sign could only be seen once you were seated).
Due to the confusion I was a little late, so he was already standing beside his shiny pick up truck. My first thought was that with such a big truck, he could help with my next move. It was only about a 15 minute drive to the little town of Bucerios, but his home was being built 10 kilometers out side the town (don't ask me how far that is, as I do not know). We traveled through farm land that reminded me more of Iowa than Mexico as there were acres of corn fields intermixed with cow pastures and some horses.
The new developement where he decided to build is accessable only over dirt roads (he said they would all be paved soon. I wonder by whom). Just outside the subdivision there are some very large buildings. I was informed that it was to be a new University, so he is sure the property value would jump in a few years. The house is quite nice and large, but is currently only a concrete shell. All the electricity and plumbing is all in place including ducts for air conditioning. His contractor was just beginning to lay the marble floors in one of the upper bedrooms. It has three bedrooms and two and one half baths. Most impressive to me was that he was building an adjacent structure for an apartment and commercial space (there is no zoning here). You can see the rebar rising on the right side of the house.
The house was quite impressive for any area, let alone Mexico. I was amazed that this young kid (well, young to me, he is 30 years old) was able to make enough money to build it. He does work two jobs (one in the afternoon, and one at night) and works 6 days a week. It has taken almost four years to get it this far, but still I was very impressed. He claimed to have designed the home including the high ceilings and arch shaped window in the staircase.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
A LIGHTER NOTE
One of my favorites is the intricate bead work of the Houicho Indians native to this area. The colorful iguana is an example of that. The patterns are symbolic to their religion and culture. Every one is different.
The pottery pot behind is a popular pattern that I have collected a lot of. The blue dish is also a very common article here.
I love the Mexican hand blown glass wear. I picked this pattern with the green swirl for the color. I love the papier mache vegetables and fruit, and of course the wonderful colorful paper flowers. The blue and white pedestal with the potted philodendron was one of the most expensive of my purchases (still cheap compared to The States) I bought at the tile factory when I was buying the tiles for my kitchen counter. Hanging on the wall are the brilliantly colored clay peppers. The carved hanging shelf was about $30.00.
In front of the Aztec Warrior is a papier mache frog, I love him. In front of the "fake" pre-Columbian figure is just a carved clay box where I keep my change for buses. I have several pieces of the hand painted tin art, but I favor the sun. I also love the clay smiling sun which I surrounded with paper flowers.
For many years I have loved the equipauli furniture. I had it on my deck in Laguna Beach in 1970. It is made of pig skin cured in horse urine (you have to leave it outside for several days). On the wall is an angel made of sun dried clay. On the table a circle of seven men around a votive candle ( they cost just a few dollars).
I found them all over the town, but most came from one shop next to my favorite coffee shop "A Page in the Sun". The owner sits at the back bent over his computer, he never looks up (he is probably on FaceBook) He has never greeted me or ever recognized me in the dozens of times I have shopped there. I now demand and get a 10% discount, but he still will not acknowledge my presence in the shop. Mexicans are really the worst business men in the world. Just really don't care. Amazing!! But, it is Mexico.
Truly there are many things about living in Mexico that I enjoy. However I still cannot tolerate the hot chili sauces, nor can I down a shot of Tequila and the Mexicans inability to tell time drives me crazy. You didn't really think I could finish an entire postings without complaining about something. Did you?
Don't expect any posts for a few weeks, as I will be in California.
************************************
Friday, March 9, 2012
OLAS ALTAS
Half of the tourist will be gone in a few weeks and the rains don't start for months yet. In spite of vocal protests by all the merchants, they began near Plaza Cardenas. One might think that they would do it one block at a time. No, over half of the sidewalks are gone, and not just on one side. Using Mexican logic (an oxymoron) they tore up both sides at once, leaving pedestrians to attempt to navigate the cobble stone street covered with rubbble and all the cars, buses and trucks. Many business have had to close for a month, or try to lure customers with tables and chairs balanced on plywood planks covering huge holes. The "new" coffee shop where my old favorite used to be, spent a fortune on the remodel. The inside was covered in marble and granite and a huge wrap around wrought iron railing and awning was installed. All the wrought iron was torn down and the business closed. Don't fell too sorry as the rumor is that it was built with "laundry money".
If the above isn't absurd enough, they began the project just two days before Mardi Gras. The parade travels down Olas Altas and ends at Pulpitos. Half the town turns out to watch the parade which consists mainly of people in costumes (and in drag) in the back of pick up trucks, covered with balloons and crepe paper. . Anyone wanting to see the parade had to stand on the rubble or try to balance themselves on plywood planks All the City had to do was to wait unitl Monday, but "NO". The project must go on.
The reason for all the new sidewalks is obvious to anyone who has tried to navigate the old cracked, pot hole ridden sidewalks, with multiple level changes. But that was not the real reason. The City is trying to put all the electricity underground. A great idea if it worked. Now that almost half of Zona Romantica has new sidewalks with underground cables. You can see all the colorful hoses coming up out of the concrete. However, all the wires and poles (with attached cables) are still up. Why? you might ask. Well now that the City has spent tens of millions laying all the underground cables, it is up to the individual property owners to pay for the connection, and none of them will.
My bridge partner's wife is in charge of the installation of all the planters along the new sidewalk. The Garden Club planted them and luckily maintains them. I noticed that the trees planted along Badillo last year were growing up into the electric wires. I was afraid that the City would come by and chop them down. When the City tree trimmers arrive, they come with chain saws and often cut the trees down to a stump. She told me that when they planted the trees they were told that the wires would be gone by last June. She assured me that her team would carefully trim the trees as the wires may never be removed..
The other day I passed a group of men digging up a street. They were having some sort of augment with a man carrying a map. Much shouting and hand waving, so I asked an English speaking Mexican what was going on. It seems that the supervisor was telling the men digging up the street that they were in the wrong location. Never mind, they had their job to do and they were going to do it, even if it was the wrong location. AHHH Mexico.!
Just a block off Olas Altas they have been building the new pier (for TWO YEARS!) There is nothing to show for it but a few pilings sunk in the water (all at different heights). The other day I walked down to check on it and noticed a sign warning of electric shock from high voltage wires. Then I noticed the cables running into the ocean. I had no intention of climbing over the chain link fence to get to the construction site, but wondered about the safety of even going into the water.
I would love to send you photos of the new pier and the street with all the trees and planters in, and the wires all underground, but I don't think I will live long enough.
*****************************8
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)