THEATER IN PUERTO VALLARTA

You may be surprised to hear how much live entertainment we have in our little village.  Many bars have either jazz bands, mariachis, or single acts.   Yes, many of the performers are drag queens or strippers, but we do have a lot of legitimate theater.   Several years ago the Theatro Vallarta was built.  It is still the largest (though not the most attractive) of all the performing arts centers.  It is also located way across the river (which I rarely cross) and most of the entertainment is designed for the Mexican population.  They do have live broadcasts from the Met, however.   Its future is also somewhat in doubt as the mayor just stole 6.5 million pesos from its budget.  Welcome to Mexico.

Most of the smaller venues are in the Zona Romatica where I live (and most of the expats).  There is a sort of senior community center that has live performances every week end during the season (mostly singers and musicians).  There is also The Palm, a night club with nightly entertainment.  They have singers, comics, and put on plays as well.  It was one of the first and started many of the other groups that have opened in the last few years.   I have seen Broadway plays and entertainers from the U.S. and Canada and Europe (Mexican too, of course).  My problem with the stage at The Palm is that there are too many pillars in the room and it seems I always get stuck behind one of them.

The Boutique Theater was formed by a group from the Palm and originally opened in a tiny place just around the corner from my former apartment (you will remember it as the Little House of Horrors).  After a couple of years they moved to a larger venue just a few blocks from my current address.  A friend of mine has performed in several of the plays (he was Dennis in Auntie Mame).  The performances are all quite good and entertaining, though not quite Broadway quality.  Since some of the performers are Mexican I have trouble understanding their English.  But for less than $20.00 it is a very enjoyable evening.

This year Act II (who had been staging plays at the Palm) opened its own theater. They broke away for the Boutique Theater several years ago.   Where they are getting the money, I have no idea.  I just hope they don't run out of money.  It was built just two blocks from me above the Argentine Steak House.  It is the largest venue on this side of the river and definitely the most beautiful on any side of the river.  There is a very large theater with a professional stage where I saw the opening act of "A Chorus Line".  It was certainly as good as any off Broadway production I saw in California.

Next to that theater is the Red Room.  A sort of cabaret with a stage, small tables and chairs and a horse shoe shaped bar.  There are different venues every night and sometimes two a night  It is very upscale and beautiful done.  Lorna Luft will be there in March  (not as good as Liza, or her mother "Judy", but still a class act).  A friend of mine was the original designer for the renovation of the theater.  When I first saw his plans, I was astounded at how beautiful (and expensive looking) it looked.  There is a sort of lounge or martini bar planned next to the cabaret.  The design called for an elaborate tile floor and bar and a stained glass and chandelier ceiling.  The opening has been delayed and delayed.  My friend finally quit as they have not paid him (typical Mexico) although the owners are all American.  I do hope it opens this year, but we will see.

Dantes (the largest art gallery) has opened a wine bar above the gallery.  It is a very elegant (and expensive) and has a lot of art work displayed on the walls and over looks the sculpture garden.  They also have entertainment (sometimes jazz).  Even at $5.00 for the cheapest glass of wine, it is well worth the experience.  I highly recommend it.

UNA PEQUEÑA NUBE NEGRA

A friend of mine told me years ago that I must have a little black cloud that follows me everywhere.  Maybe, for I do seem to have more crisis es and accidents than anyone I know.  Or maybe I am just a born klutz.

Some friends of mine arrived in town from San Francisco for just a few days to check on a remodel they are doing on their condo.  When they called and invited me to join them at one of the many beach clubs that dot the shore line along Los Muertos Beach, I was delighted.  It had been weeks since I had been to the beach and I did not want to be whiter than my friend from Minnesota who was arriving in a week.  It was not one of my favorite spots, but I was looking forward to spending the day with my friends.

During the season you have to reserve the chaise lounges, but even with three chairs, you only get one small umbrella so only one person can get away from the sun.  So I took one in the sun and after unpacking my beach bag with all the stuff that I deem necessary for a day at the beach. I laid down on the chaise, but found the back was broken or something.  Why I did not just call for another one, I do not know. Instead I reached back to try to steady it and got my finger caught between one of the metal joints.  I screamed and my friend could not seem to figure out what was wrong, but finally I got him to raise the back and release my finger. It was smashed and cut all the way across to the bone.  Blood was shooting everywhere so someone brought me some napkins to wrap it in.  Then the owner (or manager) came running over and said he had a first aid kit in the little hut at the back.  He wanted to pour alcohol over it, but when I carefully unwrapped the napkins and saw the gaping wound, I knew I needed more than a first aid kit.  I needed a doctor to stitch it up (besides I knew I could not stand the pain of pouring alcohol over it).

My friends wanted to accompany me to the hospital, but I did not want to spoil their day at the beach.  It was my finger, not my toe so I was sure I could walk the ten blocks or so to the hospital. I certainly knew where it was having been there so many times.  I think that I have been to the emergency room four times, so I just walked through the lobby and pushed my way through doors (dripping blood everywhere).  Of course they wanted to see it, but unwrapping was painful and more blood was pouring out.  I told them that before anything, I wanted a pain killer.  He did not speak much English so I was not sure he understood, but he did say, "In the butt?"  I said where ever, I just want to pain to stop.  I do not know if he was a real nurse or not, but he seemed to want a doctor to give me the shot (or maybe he did not have access to the drugs).

It seemed forever before a real doctor arrived and he seemed to understand and left the room (I guess to get drugs)  I waited some more while they tried to get me to lie down on one of the gurneys,  but I preferred to stand where I could drop the blood in a bucket. There was one other man in the room who seemed to be almost comatose. But some men arrived who looked like bomberos (firemen) and transferred the man to a portable gurney and hauled him out the door.  Maybe they were moving him somewhere by ambulance.  I thought I would then get more attention, but all the nurses left the room when the man did.   Finally the doctor came back with a syringe and gave me the shot.  I do not know what it was, but I know it was not morphine (the pain continued).  The doctor disappeared again

He reappeared with a package which he unwrapped on a table next to me.  I could not look at it.  I again told him I needed something for the pain. He said he would give me a shot in the finger, but it would hurt for a while.  It was excruciating pain, and then he gave me another shot.  The finger went numb and he started to stitch it up.  This went on so long the anesthetic wore off and I could feel the needle going through the skin.  He said, just a few more (it took twelve stitches)  He was so slow I figured he must have skipped sewing class in medical school.  After he was done he wrapped it and put a sort of sock on it.  I held my arm up and blood poured down.  He had to take it all off and re wrap it and told me to keep pressure on it.   I have to change it every day.

He said that the finger should be all right as long as I keep water away from it for ten days.   He did tell me that should it turn black that I should come back, otherwise he did not need to see me for a week.  BLACK ??  TEN DAYS !!  He said that I would need some drugs (tell me !)  He could get them from the hospital or I could go to a pharmacy.  I knew from my last experience what they charge so I told him I would get them at the pharmacy.  I went to the lobby to the girl to check out Strangely, she did not seem to remember me (all old fat white haired men look alike to them),  I picked up the bill and told her I would return with cash the next day.  She frowned and picked up the phone.  Who was she calling, Security?  I told her that last year I walked out owing 180,000 pesos, so I think she can trust me for 2,200 (about $170.00)   I explained that I had been at the beach and had no identification with me, nor did have have 2,000 pesos.  After dropping up my beach bag at home and picking up more cash, I went to the pharmacy and spent another 600 pesos.

That night I took a sleeping pill (along with several glasses of scotch) and slept for eleven hours.  Doing almost anything with one hand is difficult.  I discovered that a plastic bag secured with a rubber band worked pretty well.  Later I bought some rubber kitchen gloves.  Changing the bandage was another challenge.  The dried blood caused the gauze to stick to the stitches.  I had some spray on antibiotic but it still did not seem to work.  Finally I managed to pry it off, but the wound opened and it started to bleed again.  At least it was red and not black.

Having successfully changed the bandage for several days (no more blood), I thought it would  be just fine.  The following week, I went back to the hospital.  After at least an hour wait, the doctor told me that it should be another five days before he could take out the stitches.  When I went back again, he removed all but two or three.  He was afraid that it was still too soon and the wound might reopen.  So he said to come back in three more days.  I asked why it was taking so long to heal.  He said that I smoke and drink too much and it depletes the oxygen in my blood.  (Well, nothing we can do about that ! )  When I complained about how painful the removal of the stitches was (he had a nurse do it),  he said maybe I should take a pain killer an hour before.  "YES YES"
Then he asked if I had any Ibuprofen.  When I talk pain killers, I am talking about morphine and he is talking about an aspirin !  Clearly, we are not communicating.

How do I cope with all life's little problems, well I try to think of the bright side.  I could have lost my entire finger and it is my left ring finger, it could have been my right hand and sadly or not, there will never be a ring on that finger.


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SAUL TO THE RESCUE, AGAIN !

Since I had recently been to the beach, on Sunday I decided to do laundry and mop the floors.  First I started the laundry.  Half way through mopping, I decided to take a break (it only takes about twenty minutes for the floors to dry here).  I took a beer up to the deck and checked on the washing.  It had stopped at "spin".  I tried to get it going again, but nothing worked.  Then I decided that it must be my fault.

I had  tried to do a large load of two beach towels, two large bath towels, several hand towels and a weeks underwear (all white).  I pulled several large sopping towels out and tried again.  NO!  It would not spin, so I started the whole cycle over again (minus a few large towels).  The same thing happened.  When it got to spin and it's supposed to lock the lid, it stopped.  I gave up and tried to remove the towels and wring them out.  This is not easy to do with beach towels without dropping them on the floor.  The laundry is on the deck which is hosed down, but not mopped and is always dirty.   I was unable to wring out much water.  I threw them in the dryer anyway.  It took five hours to dry it all in several batches.  Of course, I was also afraid of drowning the dryer and thus ruining it too.

  .

Monday morning I called my trusted Saul.  He said he would be there in one hour.  I told him to make it two hours as I was off to my Spanish class.  An hour after he was due, I called again.  He said he was in his shop and would be there in a "few minutes"  One more hour passed.  You just must accept this as part of the Mexican culture.  Saul has saved me so much money, I cannot get mad at him.  I put the machine on the spin cycle and showed him that it does not spin. He unplugged it and holding on to the wire and touching the copper pipe, plugged it back in.

Well, I thought this was the dumbest thing I had ever seen (well, maybe not The Dumbest, since I live in Mexico).  He then wanted to start the whole cycle over again.  I screamed for it would take at least 30 minutes and the machine would fill with water which we might not be able to get out. So to shorten the time, I switched to Lavado Express.   He said he was going to get a taco and would be back in 20 minutes.  Two hours later he showed up (must have been a very large taco ) and the machine had completed its cycle.  I was sure that Lavado Express, must skip the second rinse and spin, so we started it over on the normal cycle.  We had a beer (or two).  Sure enough it finished the cycle.

I was amazed, but Saul calmly said that he had done this before.  The problem is that none of the plugs are grounded and all appliances have a "tarjeta"  We had to look that up in the dictionary and it turns out to be a computer card.  At that point I told him that "when he had time"  I wanted all my plugs grounded.  He said he could, but all I had to do was to hold on to the plug and a copper pipe.  I told him I would rather pay for the rewiring.

Maybe the overloaded machine shorted out.  But why didn't the circuit breaker go off.  Or do we even have circuit breakers here?  You never get to the bottom of anything in Mexico.  You just accept everything for what it is (or does) here, and be very thankful for a Saul.



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"NO GRACIAS"

If there are two words you must know to live in Mexico, it is "No Gracias".  Poverty is everywhere for Mexico is a very poor country.  There is a growing middle class (unlike in the United States) but it is mainly around the industrial towns like Mexico City, Gudalajara and Monterrey.   Mexicans are very poor, but most of them are very hard working honest people (just trying to survive and feed their families).   I read somewhere that Mexicans work the longest hours per week of any industrialized country (but that assumes that Mexico IS an industrialized country).   There are a few who (maybe because of poverty) try to scam the tourist.

On the streets and on the beach, they try to sell you everything from fish on a stick to jewelry, to sex.  In Mexico sex is regarded pretty much as a commodity to be sold just like tacos.  Being an aging male I am constantly being asked if I want a "massage",  Some are men and some are women.  But beware for a lot of the prostitutes here are really transsexuals (and some of them are just gorgeous).  There are legitimate masseurs, but they are in the minority.  There are dozens of "strip clubs" in Puerto Vallarta where you will find total nudity.  I was happy and surprised to learn that the "dancers" must have an HIV test every three months to work in these clubs.  Some of you may be shocked and think this is all too depraved.  No! It is just sad.  These are young men and women who happened to be born beautiful, so they use the one gift God gave them in an attempt to escape the oppressive poverty into which they were born.

You have to steel yourself against the poverty.  Every other block there will be an old woman squatting on the sidewalk with her hand held out (actually she has a paper cup).  One such lady (I use the term loosely) always sits in front of an old mansion on Badillo.  She looks just like all the rest of them, but for all I know she may live in the mansion.  She also did not want her picture taken (maybe she was afraid someone would recognize her).   Also there are the obviously homeless and deranged.  There is no government service for the mentally ill (pretty much the same in the U.S, but the crazy people don't have guns here)  Most of them will just try to bum a cigarette or a few pesos (probably for cheap booze).  What I really hate are the poor young women who drags a gaggle of kids behind her (all under the age of 3 or 4) begging for money.  You want to throw a box at condoms at her.  The law here states that having sex with a male under the age of 18 will get you 30 years in prison.  By the time the girls are 18, they have had a couple of kids.   I must say that the children are adorable.  They are extremely well behaved in spite of their situation (or maybe because of it).  The kids are very good about watching out for and taking care of each other.  Of course they have to for their mothers work and many of them have no fathers.

I ignore all of them.  There are Mexicans that I really like who are hard working, but poor and I do what I can to help them (mainly with outrages tips, sometimes "loans").  If you walk down any of the streets frequented by tourist you will be accosted by the sales people of the various shops catering to tourist.  "Hey Amigo" they all shout and then try to lure you into their stores.  Walking through the flea market on the island in the middle of the Rio Cuale, is like working your way through a mine field as you keep repeating, "No Gracias".    You will also encounter the street vendors, but no where are they more aggressive than at the beach.

During the summer months, the vendors will out number the paying clients.   You can't imagine all they try to sell on the beach.  The beach I was at is a private club where a sign is posted at each end stating,  "No No Gracias"  But it does not stop them (nothing does),  What I really get a kick out of are the guys selling huge wool rugs.  They trudge down the beach with dozens of them thrown over their shoulders.  Lots of jewelry (who knows if it is silver or not, but it is shinny and pretty) but also clothing, pottery, other trinkets.  Of course lots of fish on a stick, but what really gets to me are the guys carrying trays of fresh oysters (yes that plate in the old man's hand is a plate of raw oysters).  No refrigeration or anything just a platter of raw oysters baking in the sun (some how I have managed to avoid this delicacy).  You can also buy lots of pot pipes, then they will try to sell you the pot or hash to go with them (maybe crack cocaine as well, I never sampled any of it),  I have also been told that some of them are actually undercover cops, but I highly doubt that.  Henna tattoos and massages are also popular (I assume no "happy endings" on the beach).  Some of the vendors quietly move on when you say, "No gracias"  but some are relentless and get almost angry when you try to ignore them.  There are always musicians roaming the beach playing for tips, but I was shocked to see a harp last week.

As an example of the hard working (and fearless) Mexicans, I included a photo of the painters working on the church across the street.  There they are, five stories above the sidewalk with no safety net.  They are standing on a platform hung from two holes in the top of the tower and is operated by a hand crank.   In truth, I wanted to show the remarkable transformation of this church.  The painting was done to show off the architectural detailing that was lost with the original white.  In the remodeling they also added a round stained glass window.  The first morning I noticed a huge hole in the front of the church I thought maybe their cannon had gone off and blew a hole through it.   In closing, I must restate that the great majority of Mexicans are very honest and very hard working.  They just do what they can to survive.

A COCKTAIL PARTY IN PUERTO VALLARTA

Nothing in Mexico is easy, this includes giving a cocktail party.  First I have several rules about what makes a good party (many have told me that mine are "the best").  First you should have twice as many guests as you have chairs.  This forces at least half the guests to mingle and talk to more people (otherwise some will sit in one chair all night and only speak to the person next to them).  In Mexico this causes a problem for about one third of the people invited will not show up. They never call, and usually never even mention it (as if the invitation never occurred).  We would consider this quite rude in the United States but in Mexico, it is of no importance.  The guest list itself may be the most important component.  You need a diverse group, yet one that is still compatible.  If you only invite a bunch of boring people, you will have a boring party.

Two, I try to make a point of always greeting every person as they walk in the door.  I make sure they have the drink of their choice and then try to steer then to someone they might want to talk to before moving away.  I always have a bartender and a helper, so I am free to move about and make sure everyone feels welcome and are having a good time.  Music is also important.  I like to start with something light and lively, then move to louder heavier stuff later.  One night at Apache's a saxophonist showed up.  He was fantastic.  He played blues and a lot of 30's and 40's songs.  I tried to speak to him to tell him I wanted him for a party.  He gave me a card.  Since he spoke no English I had a Mexican friend call him.  Both numbers were no good!  How Mexican !  But then someone noticed there was a face book symbol on the card.  The first two attempt brought no response.  I told the waiters and owner of Apache's to watch out for him and get a number.  The owner also loved his music and said she was sure he was quite poor and probably has no computer and maybe not even a phone.  She said she always tips him when he plays at her bar.  Then I spotted him again and my Mexican friend was there, so I had him explain to him what I wanted.  He agreed, but did not know what to charge.  The next day, my friend got a call from him and he wanted 6,000 pesos for four hours.  That is more than I pay for rent and I am sure more than he makes in a month wandering around bars and restaurants.  So no live music.

Then I got an email from a friend in the States who said he would love to attend my party.  He must have read it in my blog as we had not communicated for a year.  I told him I would be thrilled and he could stay with me and I would pick him up at the airport.  Then I got an email that his plane was to arrive at 4:00 the day of my party.  I told him that no way could I pick him up just hours before my party and perhaps he should check into the hotel he mentioned for the first few days.  He cancelled his trip.  I did invite more people from my bridge club.  This is tricky for I cannot invite everyone (and there are people there that I really do not like).  I tell them all to keep it quiet, but last year news leaked out so I was forced to invite more this year.   I also invited my Spanish tutor and told him that there would be a half dozen of his other students there.  He studied the invitation for a while and then said,  "But, will you be there?"   This has led to my questioning his comprehension of the English language.

I always try to make sure that I have plenty of booze.  Last year I ran out of gin and had to send my helper out to buy a new bottle (GIN !  who drinks gin?  It must be the Canadians),  I set out all the cheap booze and keep the good stuff underneath the counter.  The bartender is to only pour out the good stuff to people who ask, or if they are drinking it straight.  There is no need to put good vodka in a glass with coke.   I never make it a dinner, but have plenty of finger food so people don't get too drunk.  My coffee shop makes a great thin pizza that I have my helper pass around.  Then I bring out the Mexican food.  My favorite Mexican restaurant makes a huge platter of great tasting food for 250 pesos (can you believe that $20.00 will serve 30 people?)  Then I have nuts, dip, cheese and meat.  Lots of good food for nibbling.

Usually summer ends in mid October.  Last year it did not cool down until after the first week in November, so I scheduled my party for the second week of November.  But the heat and humidity continued and I worried about having so many people in my tiny apartment if it was still in the 90's. Then one day before my party it cooled down, the  night was lovely.  The day of my party was overcast but it did not look or feel like rain, so I was not that concerned.  Then just before the party was to begin, it started to sprinkle.  I quickly pulled the chairs I had carried up from the balcony under the cover of my cabana.  My music man arrived early, but had problems getting my internet feed up to the deck.  As I was still fiddling with that when others arrived.  Then the rain really started to  come down.  How could it rain on my parade??  Some people braved it upstairs anyway and sat under the cabana.  Had all 55 people I invited shown up. it would have been very crowded.  But at least a dozen or more failed to show.  Still there were enough people to keep me hopping all night. The one shot I took of the living room was early and after that I just forgot about photos.  (The guy with the muscles behind the bar is NOT me).  That is Filipe my favorite bartender and good friend.  The platter of Mexican food was only one of three.  There was plenty of food.

It never rains this late in the year (well not until I planned my party for November). Sure enough the following night was a beautiful clear, starlit night.  We even had a full moon above.  Why could not the storm have waited one more night?  But I have lived long enough to realize that not everything in life turns out exactly as you had hoped it would.

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NO LUZ !

Mexico can be a strange and trying place to live.  The Bible speaks of the patience of Job. I would bet be never lived in Mexico.  One Saturday morning I staggered to my coffee pot and pushed the red button.  By the time I had finished my morning banana the coffee was ready and I headed for the balcony. It was a beautiful clear sunny morning (but they all are here),   As I sat smoking and drinking my coffee I noticed our resident squirrel crossing the street on my electric wires, balancing with a swish of his tail.  I would later reflect back on this and wonder if it was an omen.

With my second cup of coffee I headed for my computer.  No internet (nothing too unusual here) so I turned on the TV.  NOTHING !  As I was uttering another curse at Telecable I noticed that there was also no power (I had not even noticed my second cup was not as hot as the first).  Sure enough the coffee pot was almost cool.  At first I thought I would stick it in the microwave, then at second thought that did not seem like a great idea.  Power goes on and off here periodically usually with no know reason.  I decided to check out the neighborhood.  As far as I could determine I was the only one without electricity.  I called my trusty Saul.  He said he would be over in 20 minutes (that of course is Mexican time).  Almost two hours later he arrived with his bucket of tools.  I just wanted him to call the electric company, but not he had to find out what was wrong so he took my meter apart.  After a few probes, he said, "No luz"   Well, yes that is exactly why I called him and now please call the electric company, while handing him my cell phone.  He said that "No" we had to use a land line (he did not explain why).

We went around the corner to his office.  Of course the wait is forever to get a live person.  In the meanwhile he explained that there was only one office to handle calls and it was in Mexico City and since it handed the entire country, it always took a long time.  Once he got a real person to speak to I handed him my previous electric bill, with the receipt stapled to it (not more than a week old)  After much communication I could not understand, and many "holds" and pauses, he hung up and explained that Aqucate 271 owed 2,535 pesos so they cut the wire.  But I am Aguacate 265 and I paid mine I screamed.  He just laughed and said maybe because all the electric meters were under the landlords name, they just shut them all off.  I went back around the corner and found that 271 was the fish taco stand.  After confronting them, they admitted that they did indeed owe money, but had paid half and thought that was enough (Obviously Not!)  But why do they still have electricity and I do not?  Well this caused them all to laugh (everything in Mexico is a joke to them)  I was not smiling.  They said they would pay it but because it was a Saturday, probably nothing could be done until Monday.  I could not live without electricity for three days.

I headed to the Sporting Goods Store owned by the Rizo family and where I pay my rent.  I wanted to talk to the lawyer, but he was not there.  Fortunately one guy spoke enough English to understand my problem and took my paid bill and went to the phone.  I thought he was calling the lawyer, but no he was calling the electric company.  He went through the same interminable wait and after hanging up said that it was a mistake and they would take care of it on Monday.  WHAT?

Just to further complicate my day (you notice I love to do that to myself), I had ordered a fumigation of my apartment.  I do not have cockroaches, rats or fleas, but I did have ants.  I had tolerated the tiny ones, but once the big red ones moved in I knew I had to do something.  The kid had been there the day before to give me a price. He said 350 pesos, I said 250 pesos and he said, "Okay" (that is just the way business is done here).  He was scheduled at 11:00 but I knew he would never show up on time, but just in case I had  told the fish taco guys to watch out for him and ask him to wait.  Sure enough he was there waiting for me.  I tried to explain the "No luz" but he said it did not matter as he drug up a huge tank of liquid.  He explained that he would move the furniture, but later put it back and clean the floors.  Once he started, I knew I had to get out of there.  He said it would take about one hour so I decided to go for breakfast.  I was starving by then.  I have a gas stove, but with electric starters and if the electric stater does not work, as a safety factor, the gas does not come on. (One of the few "safety factors" I know of in Mexico)

When I returned he was still spraying down the walls.  He was wearing a gas mask, so to me the smell was unbearable.  I paid him the 250 pesos (about $20.00) and told him to lock up when he left as I was going to the beach.  I also told him to leave all windows open.  As I was exiting my apartment, one of the fish taco guys stopped me and introduced me to a business looking woman.  She was an executive of the electric company and one of them happened to know she lived around the corner.  She said she would do what she could and asked for my telephone number.  I gladly gave her my card and thanked her.  Sure enough about 3 hours later my phone rang.  They were on the way.   The beach I go to is 14 blocks away, but I am too cheap to take a cab even in an emergency, but I did get there quickly.  They were waiting outside as if they needed to get inside.  Why I do not know for the problem was at the pole across the street.  Finally one guy crawled up into that maze of wires (I hate to admit it but it is easy to see how one might clip the wrong line).
It took quite a while for him to correct the matter (he is the one in the hard hat).  Voila! I had electricity again.  For another explained thing, they never did cut off the electricity at the Fish Taco place.   As soon as things calmed down (and I did too with a beer) I sat down at my computer to write this posting.  I felt it was just too good to pass up.  What I did not know was that the saga was not over.

No internet!  It was now almost 5:00 Saturday, I knew the the Telecable office would not answer, so I called the guy from Telecable who does moonlight work for my friend Ed.  He had failed to show the last time, but I was desperate (maybe I did not tip him enough the first time).  He said he was now home, but he would try to get someone.  Sunday was a loss, so Monday I called him again.  I think he said "one hour" but I had heard that before so I now called Telecable.  It does have a "press dos" for English, unfortunately it is rarely English that I can understand.  Some how I got through to her but she said that today was not possible, but maybe Tuesday morning.  Not trusting that, I called again on Tuesday.  She told me it would be Wednesday at the earliest.  I explained to her that this was my second call and after another ten minutes on hold, she said the technician would be there by 3:00.  I was afraid to leave the apartment so all the things I needed to do for my party would have to wait another day.  By 4:00 I called again and she said the technician was on his way (FROM WHERE?  Mexico City?)

   By now I had used all the minutes on my phone, but could not leave to buy more credit. Maybe that is why Saul wanted to use a land line.   Finally just before 5:00 he arrived.  I told him I was sure it was the modem that must have been fried by the power surge (although I have everything plugged into a large power surge box).  The lights on it kept going on and off.  He did several things on my computer then called his company and the next thing I knew he was climbing up the pole across the street; (he is the one in the white baseball cap).  He seems that the electric people somehow screwed up my internet line while fooling with their line.  I just prayed that when he came back down the pole that I would still have electricity.  But now I have both "luz" and internet, so I am able to write this.  And it only took four days !

I always try to think of the bright side.  It could have been worse, it could have been the day of my party.   I do think that living in Mexico may be a preventive for Alzheimer's disease.  Your wits are constantly challenged here.  Besides, where else could I get this kind of fodder for my blog?


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EL DIA DE LOS MUERTOS

The Day of the Dead in Mexico is really more than one day.  Officially it is November 1st and 2nd.  But it is really celebrated for almost a week, beginning with creating altars in their homes, churches and even the City Hall. There were about a dozen or more altars erected by each of the schools in town.   Of course our own Halloween is thrown in there and the kids do go "trick or treating" on October 31st.  Maybe in more exclusive areas they might go door to door, but here the kids will  haunt the restaurants and bars along the Malecon begging for candy by saying "Halloween".

Some are in costumes, some just want free candy, but they are all cute.  Nancy and I went to The Cheeky Monkey and along the Malecon to pass out candy.  We had dinner on the third floor and wound up tossing most of it to the crowds below. My camera is not good at night so there are no shots from the balcony, but the crowd scene was just below our balcony  There were thousand of people.  I have never seen so many before, they even had some floats and the pirate ship sailed down to set off fireworks.  At the main square there was a brass band in the gazebo with couples dancing around it.

The origin of the festival began as a pagan ritual to honor and remember the dead practiced by the Mayans and Aztecs. Then it ran for a the whole month of August also celebrating the end of the harvest.  The Spanish priests hated anything pagan, but cleverly changed the date to coincide with the Catholic All Souls and All Saints Days.  All cultures seem to have some form of it.  In Japan it is called Obon where they also do altars in the homes and then float candle lit lanterns down the rivers.  Of course skeletons and skulls here are most popular.  Today they make skulls out of sugar and decorated with icing, usually with the name of a deceased relative on it and then they eat it !  In the time of the Aztecs they used real skulls (I don't know if they tried to eat those or not).

Mexicans are obsessed with death, skulls and skeletons probably going back to their early pagan beliefs.  I once went to the Mexican Museum of Art in Long Beach and was struck with the fact that about half the paintings featured death, destruction and lots of skulls.  The most prominent figure for El Dia De Los Muertos is La Catrina.  She is a very elegantly dressed female skeleton with a large plumed hat.  She was supposed to have been originally created by a 19th century cartoonist who was trying to lambaste the very rich of Mexico.  You will see her everywhere and always with the large hat.

The official flower for the holiday (and it is a real Holiday, possibly the most celebrated in Mexico) is the marigold.  The orange color is supposed to attract the souls of the dead. You will find small potted marigolds all over town. I do not know if it is by design or not, but all the plants seem to die within a day or two.  No display or altar is complete without the half dead flowers.

It is not a day of mourning at all, but a celebration with lots of eating and drinking (everything in Mexico is a party).  It is to remember the dead by telling jokes about their lives.  The first day is for infants and children, called the Day of Angels.  The second day is when the souls of the adults are to appear.  Tradition says that if the living do not honor the dead, then they will come back to haunt them and wreck havoc with their lives.  Besides the sugar skulls, they make and eat a sugar and egg bread called Bread of the Dead.  Everyone thinks that corn is the staple of Mexico, but having lived here for three years I think it is sugar and salt.

Great care is taken of the cemeteries during this time.  All of them are carefully trimmed and cleaned, many graves are freshly painted, and the marigolds are everywhere.  I had to see it, but no one was sure how to get there.  My coffee lady told me the green Versaille bus and I followed her advice.  No problem I told the driver I wanted to go to El Panteon (which really means vault) and he indicated where I should get off.  As I walked up the street I could not believe the carnival atmosphere (not what you would associate with dead bodies).  There were at least one hundred vendors and stalls set up, selling food, drinks, flowers and trinkets (I guess for the dead).  Sure enough the cemetery looked wonderful with all the decorations and flowers.  You can tell some belonged to very rich families.  I am also told that it is full and will not take any more bodies. In Paris at the Pere La Chaise, they bury six to seven bodies on top of each other all in same small crypt.  Every culture has a few weird things about it.  Mexico is no exception.  If you are thinking about a trip to Mexico, I would highly recommend the end of October.

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