SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE

A long time ago, back when I was a globe trotter, my favorite traveling companion was Kathie.  We had such fun traveling around the world.  Sadly the globe trotting days are over for both of us.  I have not even been able to get her to visit me in Vallarta.  Her daughter took a vacation in San Miguel several months after her husband died.  She loved it, rented her home in Laguna (for an astronomical price) and rented a house in San Miguel.  She has invited me to visit her on several occasions but it was not until her mother decided to visit her, that I agreed.

San Miguel does not have an airport, so you have to fly into Leon.  It is only an hour flight from here, but the shuttle into San Miguel takes an hour and a half.  Danielle (the daughter) told me to be sure to book the shuttle ahead of time or it would not be there.  She sent me the web site and I easily made a reservation for a round trip on the shuttle (it was all in English).  It was less than a week before I was to leave when I started getting stuff together for my trip.  I then realized I have never received a confirmation for the shuttle.  I went back to their web site, but without my confirmation number got no where.  I did find a telephone number and was surprised to get a girl who spoke English (with a heavy accent).  I explained my problem to her and sure enough she found my reservation but said the credit card denied the charge.  Suddenly I realized that she was talking about dollars and I told her that the card I gave her was a Mexican credit card so she must bill me in pesos.  She said she would take care of it.

I never did get an email confirmation, but the money did come out of my Mexican bank, so I assumed all was well.  Then Kathie called to say she was cancelling her trip.   It seems that L.A. was having terrific storms and Kathie said she could not even get out of the house to get to the bank   Southern Californians never learned to drive in rain, because they get so little of it.  Kathie has always been afraid of flying and she said that no way was she getting on a plane in that weather.  I had to think what I was going to do.  Then she sent another note saying she was trying to rebook the flight for the day before I left.   That day, I got a message from Danielle that her father was gravely ill and she was flying  back to The States.  Did Kathie also cancel?  It was one of her husbands, but then Kathie had a few after that.

Danielle told me that her boy friend would meet me and show me around, so did that mean I would be there by myself?  Well, if I cancelled my flight I would lose the money.  (I always buy the cheapest non refundable, not transferable tickets)  Well, why not go?  At 80 I could use a little excitement in my life and I always did like an adventure, so off I went.  The first surprise was the shuttle.   It is a small airport and I grabbed my bag and headed out looking for a bus or a van,  There was a man holding up a sign with my name on it.  I identified myself and he picked up the bag and went out to the parking lot and threw my bag in the back of a passenger car and I was the only passenger.  It is a long drive and I did not know where he would drop me or if anyone would be there, but I had her address.  I showed it to the driver.  He studied it for a while and nodded.  The next thing I knew he pulled up in front of her house.  I could not believe it and for just $24.00.

There were workmen remodeling the lower floor so I shouted up to the top floor.  Kathie appeared, but said she had no key to the gate as she had not been out since she arrived.  Luckily one of the workmen let me in.  Kathie had told me that Danielle had a three bedroom house.  She does, but the third bedroom is for meditation and had only a prayer rug.  Kathie and I were to sleep in the same bed (which we had done before)  The boy friend was at some sort of meeting and I could find nothing alcoholic to drink so I went out to the nearest tienda.  I also noticed that the freezer was so full of stuff there wasn't an ice tray in it.  So I bought ice as well.  It was so cold that the ice lasted for two days sitting on the counter.

Jorge (the boy friend) is a very tall and handsome man with no Mexican features at all.  He looks Castilian Spanish.  He was born in San Miguel where his family was very prominent and owned a lot of property.  He had lived in the U.S. for many years and spoke perfect English.  He told us to go in the morning to the the central park and pick up a tram that would give us a tour of the city.  Armed with a map, I can get anywhere and easily found the spot.  Kathie on the other hand has such a terrible sense of direction that if she says to go right, I do not even have to look at a map for I know it is to the left.  (She could get lost in a closet).  We opted for the bilingual tour which was not for another hour so we wandered to another park where there was a fiesta with Spanish dancers and music.  The town is gorgeous.  Some of the narrow cobble stone streets even reminded me of Paris.  Unlike Vallarta where  many buildings of historical nature are being torn down for ugly concrete condos,  San Miguel has preserved its Colonial look.  As far back as 1962 the government made it an historical site,  The buildings are mostly stone with carved doors that open to beautiful patios.  Every shop, every restaurant is just beautiful.  We stopped twice on the tour, once on top of a hill where you can view the city with the tall Gothic church in the center.  I wrote down other places I wanted to revisit.

The next day Jorge \had arranged for a guide to take us to the pyramids.  Our guide was an American archaeologist who had been working on the site.  It wasn't until 2006 that people even knew about the pyramids.  Jorge said as a child there were rumors about them, but no one knew where they were.  The site is on an 18,000 acre ranch owned by the granddaughter of the Krupp family.  She is some sort of mystic who thought she got vibes off them and would let no one near them.  The Mexican government finally took over a section of the ranch surrounding the pyramids, but access is very limited.  The pyramids were built in  550 A,D.  but over the past 1500 years much of the artifacts have been stolen.  It was a  two mile walk to get there (all up hill) and the altitude made it difficult and Kathie had to stop half way there.  I went on, but the real challenge was climbing up the tiny stairs of the pyramid.  They said that the steps are very narrow so the corpse of the sacrifice will roll all the way to the bottom (but so would I if I fell)   You have to walk side ways and there are no banisters, so it is difficult.  At the peak they found a skeleton.  He was covered in armor and jewelry so obviously the chief.  What amazed everyone is that when carbon testing was done they found he had died almost 1.000 years before he was buried in the pyramid.  Speculation was that he had been considered a God and they had carried him from wherever they came from until they found the perfect spot to build it so it is perfectly aligned with the sun, moon, stars.  They were definitely not Mayan, nor Aztec, but maybe related to the Aztecs.  No one knows what happened to them.

The next day Jorge told us to go to the large park near where we were.  There was some sort of a flower show so the paths were lined with thousands of potted plants for sale.   It was just beautiful, plus artists had their painting for sale and Kathie bought one.  We then wandered around the area and passed the Rosewood Hotel (the most expensive in the area)  All the homes around it are gorgeous and everything is so clean.  There is no garbage on the corner, there is no litter in the street.  You do not even see a cigarette butt.  The cobble stones are not round river stones like Vallarta, but cut flat stones.  There are little boutique hotels everywhere and I checked and founds the rooms were very cheap.

San Miguel de Allende was founded in 1542 as a depository for the gold and silver that was mined from the nearby mountains.  It was originally called San Miguel de Grande, but renamed for the martyr Allende after the war of independence.  His family home is still there and you can go thought the entire place which has been furnished in the style of the 1800's.  The Canal house is across the street and even more grand, but tours only include the interior courtyards.  The Canal family owned much of the mining enterprises.  All the buildings are stone with carved entrances and arches over the windows, with huge heavy wood doors that open into  beautiful courtyards.  I just loved the city and if it wasn't for the cold in the winter might consider moving there.  Jennifer and I are going back in July or August.

Kitty survived my absence just fine.  I had people coming by to make sure she had plenty of food, and when I got back she was waiting on the balcony.  She would not let me out of her sight and screamed constantly unless I was holding her on my lap.  I guess she missed me a lot.  It is nice to be missed by someone, even if it is just a cat.

KITTY

Kitty is alive, well and a very happy kitty.  She is extremely affectionate, wanting to be next to me all the time (even when she is not hungry).  She plays a lot but mostly with creatures she finds still ignoring any toys.  She likes them alive (at least partially)   I bought her a ball that looked like a mouse with a tail and a mouse face.  It did not roll.  She would touch it with her paw and stare at it. When it did not move, she would try again and then walk away.  So I tied it to a string and hung it from one of the beams on my cabana.  She was mildly amused for a while, then I made the mistake of swinging it for her.  It hit her in the face and she will not go near it again.  She is an aggressive predator, but she does not like anything that hits back.

 A few months ago I was quite worried about her safety.  One night I noticed that the alpha male cat was no longer at the taco stand across the street.  He was there every single night.  Then I noticed her sister (the evil twin) was also no longer around,   There was a black cat that roamed the roof of the hacienda across the street and a Siamese cat that lived around the church.  They were all gone!  It was just like when all the cats in the vacant lot behind me disappeared.  Kitty was now the only cat on the block.

Months have passed and what ever happened seems to have missed her.  I did ask the guy who runs the taco stand and he seemed to indicate that someone came and picked him up by the neck and took him away.  This is a guess on my part as he does not speaks one word of English, and his Spanish is so rapid it sounds more like machine gun fire than a language.  I can't really see how that could happen.  The City fired most of their police force because the last mayor emptied the treasury.  Are they going to send out a "cat squad"?  Not likely.  I feel more confident now in her safety.  There is no way to lock her up as she has roamed the streets all her life.  But she is very picky about her food,  preferring one kind over another and she won't touch any food left over for more that a few hours, so I can't see her gobbling up some poison food someone throws at her.

She is no longer exclusive to the balcony.  She started just roaming the house and then picked certain spots she likes.  While I am at the computer she likes to lie between my feet.  When I get up she jumps in the chair and naps.  She will go under the bed if I am lying down reading or napping (sometimes spending hours napping herself).  One day I got off the bed and went into the kitchen for something.  When I returned she was curled in the spot I had just left.  I let her know that this was a "No No".  I have also caught her curled up behind the pillows in the guest bedroom partially hidden by the mosquito netting.  My neighbor told me she spend a lot of nights in her place.  She removed the bottom glass on her sliding glass door to let air in at night.  She said she likes cats and does not mind but as soon as kitty sees her she flees.  She wanted to know her name and I said, "kitty"  She said,  "That is it?"  I do not think is strange for the first thing I said to her when she dropped down on my balcony was "Hello kitty"  Just because she later became friendly, I saw no reason to change her name to Mahitabel or something.

I am not sure cats pay attention to a name anyway.  She comes to the sound of my voice and she can tell by the tone if she has been naughty or nice.  She does get scolded at times.  I will not let her attack any of my furniture (that is if I can catch her at it)  One day she wandered into the bathroom and somehow closed the door on herself.   This must have made her mad for she picked fight with the shower curtain.  It lost (badly)  It was in shreds so I tend to try to keep her out of there.  I will praise her when she catches one of those huge green grasshoppers, but was not happy when I opened the door to find feathers every where.  Sure enough there was a dead bird under the palm.   It was not one of the awful black birds or a stupid pigeon, but a beautiful bird with a bright yellow breast.

She has also discovered the deck.  I did not want her up there as there are too many planted pots she could turn into portapotties.  At first I thought she went there for the cool tile under the plants, but no, she was there for the prey.  There are all kinds of creatures up there for her to play with (i,e, torture and kill)..  Mostly geckos and a few lizards, some times an iguana, and sometimes a squirrel will run across the wall.  Of course lots of birds (her favorite prey) but mostly she catches insects.  She will play with them until they die.  She has nearly eliminated all the geckos.  I rarely see one anymore (alive anyway).  They used to be everywhere, on the floor, walls, and ceiling.  They are cute little things, but they poop everywhere, so I am not that unhappy about it.  Recently, the bats have returned.  Their big mating season is in January or February when hundred fly around within a few feet of your face.  She will sit on the wall watching them and hoping to catch one.  She thinks they are birds and does not know they have teeth as well as claw.

She naps most of the time, but when she is awake she is always meowing.  She can get to the deck on her own, but it is a long trek.  She crawls along the balcony railing to my neighbor, rounds the corner and up her outside staircase.   Then she has to jump over the low part of the wall (same place the thief came across).  So when she wants to go up there she will run up to the landing and scream for me to open the door for her.  She usually has a very soft plaintive mew (almost pathetic sounding) like she is about to expire.  But when that does not evoke the reaction she wants from me, she lets out a blood curdling scream MEEOOW!  She talks a lot.  We have quality time after her breakfast while I am finishing my 6 cups of coffee.  Then after her dinner she will join me on the deck while I have my cocktail.  She likes lots of petting and sometimes will crawl up onto my chair (trying to push me aside).  She does not purr (at least not audibly)  I can feel her neck vibrate like she is purring inside, but no sound.  So she talks to me.  I always answer her but neither of us have any idea what the other is saying.  After all she is a Mexican cat and very few cats are bilingual.  

She has become a part of my life and she gives me great joy.  She is so funny to watch as she has all kinds of moods.  She makes my laugh, even when she is being naughty.  Mainly she is after attention.  Sometimes when she thinks I have ignored her too long, she will reach out and swat at me as I pass by.  She never draws blood, she just wants me to know how displeased she is.  It is amazing in such a short period of time that she went from a homeless street urchin to a pampered princess.  Well, maybe I had something to do with that.

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ATRAPAR UN LADRON (TO CATCH A THIEF)

Yes, it has been a long time and I know you have missed me, but there were reasons (other than just being lazy)   This will be difficult for me to write and you may find it disturbing to read.  It is about misplaced trust, betrayal, and my own incredible nativity and stupidity (but you already knew about that).   It is a long sad tale, but I promise the next posting will be on a lighter note.  You may notice some repetition of a posting I did last March "The Perils of Living in a Poor Country"  In that post I was almost sympathetic toward my unknown thief, explaining how extreme poverty can cause someone to become so desperate they believe they have to steal.  I do love the Mexican people, but now I know who my thief was and I no longer feel that benevolent.  Now, I want to bury the bastard!  I have hesitated about even writing it,  but this blog is about my life here in Mexico and I thought you should hear it.

The story really starts over five years ago in my former apartment.  If you recall it was located over the bus stop for all buses to Mismaloya and south.   The apartment was huge and gorgeous, but the buses loading and unloading people drove me crazy.  Also the management for the building was nonexistent. I hated it.  Just below my balcony was a make shift stand where tickets to various trips were sold as well as invitations to Time Share seminars (we all know about those).  I guessed that they were all con men, but one guy was quite helpful to me.  Later I realized he over charged me for all the help he gave (I was new here, and yes stupid).  His wife sold plastic cups of fresh cut fruit and coffee cake.  I bought some almost every morning and got friendly with the whole family (they had a preschool little boy)  One day he stopped me and told me of a plan he had to make us both some money.  He wanted to buy a van and take people on his own to places like The Flea Market, the Botanical Gardens, the Zoo, etc.  He showed me how just two full vans a day would make so much money.  All he wanted from me was 15,000 pesos for the van.  I knew his figures were flawed in the number of people, plus I knew how difficult it would be to control a crowd going through some place as large as the Gardens or the Zoo.  There are always a couple of people who pay no attention to time or other people.  He said it would be a partnership and I could recoup my "investment" in less than a year.

I was not that stupid, but thought that even a little extra income would be nice, plus I would have the use of a van.  As soon as I saw the van,  I knew this plan would not work.  It was an awful old thing with dented fenders and door.  No American is going to pay a lot of money to ride around in that wreck.  He said he would paint it with colorful pictures of the gardens and zoo.  It never happened.  Next he said he had to apply for a license to drive tourist around.  By the time he got his license the High Season was almost over.  So one day I asked him to drive me to Home Depot.  It is a long way and at the time cost about 120 pesos by taxi.  He said sure, but he immediately turned around the corner and pulled up to a gas pump and asked how much I wanted to put in it.  I did not want to put anything in it, but stupidly gave him 500 pesos.  It was my last trip in the van.  I never got a dime back and eventually he just disappeared.  No one seemed to know why or where, but I found that he owed a lot of people money.  So did I learn to be less trusting??  Of course not,  I am a slow learner (translation = extremely stupid).

ENTER JORGE::  Saul has been my go to guy and fix it man since I moved to this apartment.  I needed help replanting some plants and he brought Jorge over.  He was a cute kid, very polite and a very good worker.  He was fast and very strong.  Fast is unusual in Mexico so I started hiring him to do some heavy lifting and cleaning.  Saul does not like manual labor.  Jorge was always in between jobs.  He seemed to have no problem getting a job, but they never lasted more than a month or two.  When he needed money he would call and ask if I had work for him.  I would make up something for him to do ( something I really did not need to have done, or something I could have done myself) just to give him some extra money.   He also asked if he could do his laundry.  He was still living at his parents home which was just a few blocks from me.  He said his father was no longer working and did not get a pension for another year.  The family had no money and their washing machine broke.  Of course I said yes so he starting coming to my home once or twice a week.

I did think that I was missing some money from time to time.  I try to keep one or two 500 pesos notes hidden in my wallet between some credit cards, if I am out and run short, I always have extra cash.  I would look and the money was gone.  When did I spend it?  I could not remember.  Also I keep several hundred pesos in a drawer in my bedroom for day to day money.  Larger amounts of money I had been hiding for years.  I would look in the drawer and think that I thought I had more money than that.  Then my computer was stolen.  I could tell they came in through the kitchen window from the dirty foot prints.  I had bars added to the window.  More things disappeared so I had the locks changed.  I kept U.S. dollars in a billfold I only use in The States.  Shortly before my last trip, I checked and found I had two one hundred dollar bills and some twenty s. Then a few days later when I was lining up stuff to take, I noticed the money was gone.  No one had been in the apartment except Jorge so I accused him of stealing the money.  He was horrified and sad that I could think he was a bad person.  He was so upset that I thought "well someone broke in before, maybe someone else stole it"  Still the question remained, "why only the money?"

I began watching Jorge more carefully and counting my money before he arrived.  Then my CD player was stolen.  That time I had left the door to the roof garden open.  I really did not think that Jorge was capable of scaling the wall to get to my deck.   It had to be a professional thief.  I did figure out that the money taken from my Mexican wallet was always done while I was at the gym.  It was the only time I left the house without it.  And still I would find 500 to 1,000 missing.  Something had to be done, so a friend ordered a camera for me that was a motion and sound camera that took a photo and sent it to "the cloud" where it was sent back down to my computer and my friend's computer.  It even had an infra red lens that took picture in the dark.  (since it was stolen, I only have a picture of the box)   I set it up every time I left the house, but always hid it before anyone came over.  I did not want anyone else to know I had it.  The past two robberies had occurred on a Tuesday.  The taco stand next door is closed on Tuesday so not many people are around to see someone accessing my deck or balcony.  Three weeks past and no robberies.  Then a few Tuesdays ago I returned from the gym to find Jorge sitting on the curb.  He wanted to wash a few clothes.  I explained that I was meeting a friend at the beach in two hours, but he said it was just a few things, but he had to wash his uniform for work that night.  I told him to hurry and sent him upstairs while I hid the camera.  While we waited he made himself a sandwich.  He was always hungry and ate something almost every time he was here.

Besides the money I gave him for work, I did a lot more for him.  When he moved to his own apartment in PTL  I gave him linens, towels, and some pots and pans.  They were extras I really did not need, but he could use.  When he got a cold or flu, I gave him medication.  One day he arrived with a horribly swollen jaw.  I could tell from the smell it was a badly abscessed tooth.  A friend of mine lost the sight of one eye from an abscessed tooth.  I told him he had to see a dentist that day.  He had no money so I gave him 1,000 pesos.  He came back with a prescription for some expense medicine.  I gave him another 500.  Around his 25th birthday his cell phone was stolen.  I gave him 1,000 to buy a new one.  (did I tell you he was very cute).   Every Mexican I knew told me that the thief was someone I knew.  Every friend I had said it had to be Jorge.  I could not believe that someone I had been so good to and had done so much for, could do that to me.  Jorge was always polite, and even though he spoke not a word of English could be funny.  He was charming.

In retrospect I think he was waiting for me under my balcony because he found he could not get into the house.  After he had eaten we were both upstairs waiting for the dryer to finish.  I was already to leave for the beach and had locked the balcony doors.  He said he had to use the bathroom.  While I was still waiting upstairs, he must have used the time to unlock my balcony door but leaving it closed and the drapes drawn.  I left right after him locking the deck door and the front door, but never checking the doors I had already locked.  I also reset up the camera.  I had just reached the beach (about ten minutes) when I my phone rang.  It was Hector who told me he just got an email from my camera showing someone who looked like Jorge going through my closet.  I told him to call the police and took a cab home.

By the time I got here there were two patrol cars here and four policemen (well, two men, two women).  The computer and the camera were gone.  While Hector took them through the apartment, I texted Jorge.  He neither speaks nor understands English so we mostly communicated in text messages.  I wrote (in Spanish) that all I wanted was the computer returned.  He said he had no idea what I was talking about.  Then I told him the camera he stole took pictures of him and I had the police here.  I just wanted the  computer back.  In essence, he said that it was no big deal for I was rich and had a big house (neither is true, but you will never convince a Mexican of that)..  I told him he would be sent to jail.  He wrote back that he was not going to jail and "over time" he would pay me back for the computer (it was obviously already sold).  Not good enough!  I told him I would send the police to the place he worked, then he threatened me.  All this I have on my phone showing it was sent from his phone.  The police were here for at least two hours and filled out seven forms.  They needed my passport (checking to see when I arrived in Mexico) and for I.D.  Then I had to sign all seven forms.  Hector tried to explain what they said and the first one said "I had the right to contact and attorney"  Why would I need and attorney??  Later I found out.  They told me to bring the text messages and prints of the photos to the police station at 9:00 the following morning.  Also I did not remember Jorge's last name and they needed that.and an address.

They were leaving when I realized that I not only had no copies, but not even the case number, nor did I know where the police department was.  The girl came back and on a scrap of paper wrote down the number and a long explanation of where to go the following morning.  They said any taxi driver could take me there.  NOT TRUE!  The next morning I got up early but was still rushed to get out of the house by 8:30.  I dashed out and hailed the first taxi and told him I had to go to the police station.  He said which station.  I gave him the written instructions and told him my friend said he thought it was near the bus depot.  He said "which bus depot"  All this is in Spanish and I decided he was not a good choice so I waved him on.  The next driver spoke perfect English said he knew where it was and we took off.  We got half way there when I remembered they said to bring my passport.  I had a photo copy that I always carry and they had it for two hours the day before.  The driver said he would ask his boss.  The boss said I definitely needed my passport, so we turned around and went back.  I quickly grabbed it and we took off again.  He was hurrying but I knew I was going to be very late.  Then he passed the bus depot.  He said he knew where to go and kept on driving.  Maybe ten miles later we were almost to Bucerios when he pulled up to a one story white building.  I asked if he was sure and he said he would go in with me.  Sure enough it was the wrong one.

We headed back toward the bus depot.  He had been so nice (in spite of driving way out of the way) and he spoke  English.  He also said he lived just a few blocks from me so I asked for his name and telephone number.  He said I could call any time for anything.  What a lucky break I thought as I have always wanted a good cab driver who spoke English that I could call.  When we arrived he went in with me again and sure enough I had finally arrived at the right place.  I asked how much for I planned on giving him a big tip.  He said 700 pesos!  Yes, we almost made almost three trips, plus he drove way out of the way.  A one way fare should be 150 pesos or 450 for three full trips, which we did not do. .  What an ass!  He just lost a good customer.  Of course the policeman standing there could not care less that he was over charging me.  I checked in at the desk where I signed my name, printed it and he gave me a lanyard with the number 25 on it and motioned me through some air port metal detectors toward some chairs against the wall (not one word of English, of course).  After about 20 minutes I asked him if I could go out for a smoke,  Sure no problem.  I came back through the metal detector and sat down again.  I had been there at least another 20 or 30 minutes when I got up and asked when my number would come up.  He then pointed to another woman at a desk against another wall.  I was supposed to check in with her.  Who Knew?

Finally a woman I had seen prancing back and forth on six inch heels spoke to me in English She took me into another room to wait for the inspector in charge of my case.  She however spoke no English.  I gave her the photos and showed her the text messages.  She said she still needed his full name and address.  I told her he works at Lala Leche (the major milk produce company here) in the warehouse at night.  Not good enough!  So I told her I would get them and left.  The cab home was 150 pesos.  I was sure Saul would know his family's address and name.  He said he did not.  I took his photo around my neighborhood.  They all recognized him but no one knew his full name.  They do not want to be involved.  I did get his family's address, but no name.  I now have a Mexican who has also lived here for a long time trying to get the family name.

Mexicans to whom I have spoken to said that even with his name and address, the police will do nothing.  He will not be arrested, let alone put in prison.  The best I can do is hope that a black mark goes on his police record to prevent him from ever getting a good job again.  You have to sue him.  There is a new law determines the amount of a fine if someone breaks into your home and hurts you.  The fine is larger if they kill you.  I cannot see how this will help.  Stealing a computer is considered a minor offense.  It was two computers, two cameras, a CD player and ten or twenty thousand in pesos,  not a minor crime to me.  Of course I have no proof he has been thief  for the past months.  I do have photos of him breaking in and the text messages admitting stealing the computer, but they said I really should have two witnesses.  It may be hopeless.  Jennifer wants to put up his photo on a poster stating that he is a thief.  He lived in this neighbor for 25 years so it would have an affect.  She also said if she sees him, she will beat him to a pulp and I believer she would.  She is a tiny lady but fierce.  .

It is a sad story.  I am mad about the computers and the money he stole, plus he hassle of trying to find a new one in English.  When he stole the first computer (not knowing it was him) I told him about the loss of all my photos from my travels all over the world.  Photos of China, France, Russia, Turkey, Japan all gone.  I guess that did not register with him.  Jennifer thinks he must be a sociopath.  I do not know, but I am also sad.  He was someone I trusted and helped.  He now has the first good job since I have known him making twice what he made at Oxxo.  He now has medical insurance and Mexico's sort of social security where he earns point toward buying a house one day.  He could lose it all.  It is also sad when I think that 95% of the Mexicans are good, honest, hard working people, but a few Jorges taint them all.  A sorry tale for everyone.

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EL DIA DE LOS MUERTOS

Halloween is a rather new phenomenon in Vallarta.  Probably started by the gringos and drag queens; but about 5 or 6 years ago the kids picked up on it.  Now it is a huge holiday.  The kids do not go from house to house, but bar to bar.  Mostly along the Malecon.  For those of you who are a new reader and unfamiliar with Vallarta, the Malecon is a wide street that runs right along the water front in old Town.  Most of it was turned into a pedestrian only street about four years ago.  Although it is a tourist attraction and the restaurant, shops and bars that line one side of the street are mostly for tourist, most of the people there are Mexican.  Families love to stroll along the beautiful street in the evenings,  so it was a perfect place for the kids on Halloween.

I reserved a table at the Cheeky Monkey that was right on the balcony.   Jennifer went in costume, I did not,  When someone asked why I did not, I told them that I was in costume.  I was dressed up like an old man (they just stared at me).  We got the corner table so we could not only watch everything but throw candy off the balcony.  I bought four huge bags at Costco and in less than two hours, we were out of candy.  The food is barely passable, but the drinks are cheap and it was a perfect spot to see the passing parade.  Thousands of people milled about, many in costume, but some just begging for candy.  It was so much fun.  Unfortunately my camera is afraid of the dark and refuses to take good pictures after sunset (especially at a distance).  We took a cab there planning to walk back along the Malecon and I thought I could get some good shots there.  There were also huge paper mache statues along the street but guess what.  The battery had already died.  Sorry!

The Day of the Dead was an old Aztec tradition for honoring the dearly departed.  The Indians had it in May but the Catholics changed it to the 1st and 2nd of November to coincide with the Catholic All Saints Day.  Yes I know that is two or three days if you count Halloween, but is still called the "Day" of the Dead.  Hey! it is Mexico!  It is not supposed to be scary like Halloween but a reverent day to morn family members who have died.  Families will erect altars in their homes and two side of the City Hall are dedicated to shrines of both family members and some famous Mexican people.  City Hall is called the Presidential Palace for reasons only know to Mexicans.  If you asked a cab driver to take you to City Hall, he would have not idea what you wanted.  The ground around the shrine is covered with mosaic squares of different colored materials (dated back to the Aztecs).   They use lots of colored paper, flowers and always food for the dead.  There is a traditional Day of the Dead bread, but they will also add others that the deceased liked to eat (sometimes even a cup or coffee or a bottle of Tequila).  Of course there are lots of flowers (both real and fake).  Unfortunately for you, there are no photos.  My camera battery was dead that night.  I had planned on returning the following day to take photos, but was too tired and lazy.

However Jennifer, Vickie and I did visit the cemetery the next day.  I had been there before (I wrote a blog on it three years ago) but they had never visited the cemetery.  It is a hoot!  The square in front had all kind of stalls selling drinks, food, and lots of decorations for the graves.  All the graves are cleaned and covered in flowers and decorations.  Family is very important in Mexico (well, that and using any excuse to party).  The cemetery had been full for years, so families return to honor people who died a long time ago.  I did notice one tomb that had not been cleaned.  It was black and the marker had been knocked over and was broken.  I guess the entire family must be deceased.  I also notice that most graves are marked by large slabs of marble or sometimes small buildings but some had only a very small stone cross with a plastic Jesus marking the spot (must have been a very poor family).  After touring the cemetery we joined the festivities in the park.  Lots of people had painted faces and some were in costume.   Most of the women (and some drag queens) dress as La Catrina.  She had become the symbol of Dead of the Dead.  She consists of the skeleton of a woman in very rich clothing.  She was originally designed as a cartoon to mock the vanities of the rich.

They had a parade that was really fun to watch.  At the head was a huge paper mache  skeleton riding a bicycle.  Lots of bands, horses and people in all sorts of odd costumes.  One rider held a very small screaming child in one hand and had a beer in the other.  (Don;t you just love Mexico?)  There were mariachi bands, but must appeared to be high school bands.  All of them playing at once (but playing different songs creating a calliope of sound).  The crowd screamed and yelled their approval and everyone had a great time (most of them drinking beer).  Mexico is a crazy fun place to live.  Life is never dull here.  I love it!

LAS PARRAS (VINES)

We are not talking about grape vines or vineyards here, for we are back in Mexico.  After four years of living in this apartment, I decided what I really needed was some sort of a vine to trail along the wrought iron railing on my terrace.  I have the "jungle" vine that comes up from three stories below that I train across the beam that supports my cabana.  I love the look, but it dies back each year so I have to cut it back and wait for the summer rains for it to sprout again.  I did not know what kind of vine to buy, but I wanted something that would remain green all year, and preferable have some sort of flowers. 

One day Filipe was taking me on some errands and we were to stop at the nursery on our way home.  No one speaks any English at the PTL nursery and I did not even know the Spanish word for "vine".  So Filipe spoke to the guy who led us to an area of all kinds of vines.  I already had some to the yellow vine that is everywhere here and have not had great luck with it. There is an orange vine but it seems to consume what ever it is up against.  Then I spotted the one with bell shaped flowers in a pale violet color.  I had admire the vine before.  The man assured me that while they can drop leaves and dry out, if I kept them watered they would stay green.  We will see.   So bought two of them, at a cost of 30 pesos a piece.  The dollar is now almost 20 to 1.

I already had two smaller pots left over from some replanting a did a few months ago.  I really did not want to buy new pots.  The large plastic ones are 175 pesos a piece (for a 30 peso plant).  You can buy the hand made clay pots for less, but they are too heavy for me,  They also deteriorate after a few years because they are not fired, they are sun baked. So I used the two smaller pots.  I did tell you that I am cheap (well when you try to live on $2,000 a month, you have to be frugal).  Once potted they immediately sprang forth and began to twine around the wrought iron.  Perfect! I thought, so now I wanted to get rid of the bougainvillea.  Filipe said he would like them for their balcony.  I told him they were extremely heavy especially after all the rain we have had.  I told him to wait until we went a couple of days with not rain.  Once we had a few dry days, he called and said he would like to pick them up.  I was shocked when I saw he was alone with only his wife and little boy with him.  I told him he would need more help.  No! he could do it alone.  He grabbed the plant my the trunk with one hand and held the bottom of the pot with the other.  Mind you these plants are full of sharp thorns.  But ignoring that he carried them down two flights of stairs.  I will not walk down those stairs without using the hand rail, but both his hands were occupied.  It still amazes me what Mexicans can do, especially when they are as big as Filipe.

I liked the openness without the bougainvillea and I did not have to put up with being stabbed by the awful thorns.   Bougainvilleas have been planted everywhere by the Vallarta Garden Club and they even have a bougainvillea festival each year.  Fine it you do not have to live with them.  Then I thought I had made a mistake in my cheapness by using pots too small.  As rapidly as they were growing I knew in time they would out grow the pots and I would have to water them daily.  So with gritting teeth, I bought two new pots.  When I originally planted them, I put sheep shit in the bottom, thinking that as the roots reach down, they would like the extra nourishment. ( If  you want to know what "sheep shit" is scroll back six or seven months when I wrote a whole posting on it.)  But the plants had not really established themselves and when I tried to move them to the new pots the soil fell away exposing the new tiny roots.  Apparently I grabbed a gob of sheep shit and hurriedly packed it around one of the plants.  It immediately wilted and  is spite of daily watering, continued to die back.  It was being burned up by the fertilizer.

Everything died except one tiny shoot.  I knew in time it would recover and put out new shoots but I am impatient (one of my many faults, and besides, I do not have a lot of time left).  So I decided to buy another one.  Actually I wanted to buy two more so one would cover the railing and one would grow up to the wrought iron trellis between me and my neighbors balcony.  In four years I have only seen them twice on the balcony, but I really like my privacy.  I pay Filipe 300 pesos to drive me around to my errands (normally making at two or three stops).  But I did not need anything expect the plant.  It seemed ridiculous to spend 300 pesos to buy a 30 peso plant (yes, I know I am cheap).  So I set off on the local bus (an experience that deserves it's own posting).

I prefer the PTL nursery.  "PTL" is what we call Pitilal (a poor suburb of Vallarta) where most of the Mexicans live as it is much cheaper (No! I have no desire to live there).  But I had no idea how to get there by bus and the Costco bus stops right in front of the other nursery.  I explained what I was looking for and the girl led me to the area for vines.  They do speak a little English here but I still do not like the place.  The plants were horrible looking scrawny things eaten up by caterpillars.  I found two that I thought I might be able to save, but as I was headed to the cash register I realized the not only was something crawling on my hands and arms, but something was biting me as well.  I dropped the plants and screamed as I spotted hundreds of termite all over me and the plant..  They were eating the wood stake, but living in the soil.  I had no idea termites bite (but they do chew wood).  I guess they were mad and the bites hurt.  Now, my skin is very old and my hands are riddled with blue veins and covered in liver spots.  With all the sun they have turned into old leather, but I did not think they could be mistaken for wood!

The woman who runs the joint came running out from behind her desk and poured some fluid over the plants.  I said,  "No way, I do not want them and would certainly not take them into my home"  She sent the girl scurrying for new ones.  I really wanted to leave, but I was already there and she did bring out two plants that although sick looking had no termites.  After carefully inspecting them, I handed her a 100 peso note.  She looked at in and indicated that it would be sufficient (like she was doing me a favor)  I said,  "Hold on here, they are 30 pesos at the PTL nursery and for what I have been through they should be free."  She let me have the two for 60 pesos and I headed out to flag down a taxi.  I had brought two black garbage bags to carry them in, but could not handle them on a bus.  As it happened a taxi pulled right up.  I did notice the man was blind in one eye and the other one was reduced to a small slit.  Still if he wasn't qualified they wouldn't let him drive.  Right?  Wrong!  I have been told that most taxi drivers are ex cons as no one else will hire them.  There is no test for taxi drivers here.  HEY!  IT'S MEXICO!

We had just pulled onto Highway 200 when the car sputtered and began moving in lurches.  He changed to neutral and raced the motor.  Back in gear it sputtered and lurched again.  All the while he is patting the dash board saying "Mi chica" (which is girl friend in Mexico).  He made several stops and then we were approaching the tunnel.  I thought of getting out each time we stopped but my plants were locked in his trunk. .  He pulled over just in front of the tunnel racing the motor and muttering "mi chica"  I was terrified of it dying in the tunnel.  Yes, I know any sane person would have leaped out and fled leaving the plants behind.  (Well??).  We slowly crept into the tunnel.  If it stopped  (which is illegal in the tunnel) it would cause a major crack up of cars.  If I survived the crash, no taxi would stop to pick me up in the tunnel.  I would have to crawl to the end hoping I was not sucked under a speeding truck by centrifugal force.  The tunnel is scary to drive through let alone try to walk through.  If I made to the other side carrying two garbage bags I would look like a bag lady (make that a bag man)

Some how we made it through and after the tunnel it is all down hill so he could coast most of the way.  He asked for 80 pesos (it should have been 60) but I gave him 100 thinking he needed it more than I do and I was so happy to arrive home safely.  I have planted them and trying to train it up the wall by using that fishing wire I use for everything.  As you can see the older plant is thriving and has already passed one of the concrete pillars.  The other three look as pitiful as they did when I brought them home.  But I am hoping with a little care they will recover.

SEBASTAPOL

"No Toto, we are not in Mexico"  Sebastapol is a small town in Northern California in Sonoma county, next to the Napa Valley (both are the wine country, but Sonoma is coastal).  Because I allowed my residency card to expire four years ago, I have to leave Mexico every six months.  It just became such a hassle dealing with the Immigration office here that I gave up.  The last time took me eight trips.  Then they changed the immigration laws so now you have to start in The U.S, so it would be impossible for me, as I am never there long enough.  So twice  year, I go somewhere (usually to Laguna).  But my lawyer where I had been staying in his guest house sold it and moved.  Also the car rental costs me almost twice what my plane ticket is.  So when my friends from San Francisco invited me to their place, I jumped at the chance.

They were to meet me at the airport in San Francisco and we would drive to Sebastapol.  I arrived at the airport in Vallarta two hours early (I always do) just to find out that the plane was delayed over an hour. I panicked and had a fit at the Alaska airline counter.  To my amazement, they agreed to call my friends in San Francisco.  But I did not have their number.  I had their Mexican phone and mainly used email to communicate, but I also did not have my computer.  The good news was that they have built a very attractive bar outside the terminal (where you can smoke).  I met a nice couple who were on the same plane to S.F.  After explaining my problem they tried to get into my email with an Ipod.  No luck! Then when the plane arrived late it got in just after a 747 from China.  Immigration took almost one hour (and I thought LAX was bad).  Fortunately my friends are not as dumb as I am and knew the plane was late.

Even though it was now about 9:00 at night, the traffic was almost at a standstill.  It took us hours to reach their summer home in Sonoma.  The area is totally rural and the homes are all on one or more acres.  Their home is two stories with four bedrooms (master on the bottom) so I had the top floor to myself.  Two sides of the house has a huge red wood deck overlooking the valley and vineyards.  We spent a lot of time just sitting on the deck and drinking (I was smoking) Although the kitchen had already been remodeled with lots of granite, they have plans to completely change the first floor.  I thought it was lovely just as it was.  The first morning was foggy (that is the sort of purple photo you see).  From then on, it was clear and very hot (but no humidity)   In front of the little fish pond is a huge pool.  They are also adding an additional four car garage for Jeff collects and restores old cars.They look brand new, inside and out.  I especially liked the Lincoln Mark III

Although their address is Sebastapol, they are closer to a little town called Graton.  A charming little town that looks like something out of an Old West movie (except for the cars).  We had dinner there one night. They also toured me around the area for several hours taking me along the Russian River where they used to own a condo.  The Russian River area is mostly redwoods and quite beautiful.

The area is devoted to wine, with vineyards everywhere.  Although years ago it was apple country as evidenced by the lone apple tree on their property.   They have a wine club membership in one vineyard where we stopped and sampled wine while sitting in a picnic area next to the grape vines.  It was lovely and the wine was good (but not cheap!)  The next day we also went to another small wine tasting in Graton.  I love wine and drink a lot, I am just not a wine connoisseur.  Then we took a long walk through the woods, passing vineyards.  It is mostly oak, pine trees and some redwoods (no palm trees)  It was decided that the last night we should drive back into San Francisco because I had a 10:30 flight in the morning.  They said the usual commuter traffic in the morning could take us four hours and we would have to leave before 4:30am.  I was just as glad as I got to see their place in San Francisco.  It is in an old Victorian, but totally redone and gorgeous with a small deck and fern garden in the back yard.   Unfortunately I could not get good pictures.  Photography is not my forte, so forgive me. All in all it was a wonderful relaxing trip and the flight home was without a hitch.  Well, except for my own mistake.  I checked in at one of the little kiosks.  I was surprised when after I paid the ridiculous price of  $26.00 for the checked bag it printed out the bag tag.  Why don't  they charge for the carry on bags.  They cause delays in boarding and deplaning.   The screen said "proceed to boarding"  I did and was half way through security when I realized I still had my bag.  The TS A people were not happy when I tried to get out of security.  I had to check my bag as I carry tooth paste too large to pass security.   As nice as the trip and the visit was, I am always very happy to be back home in Mexico.

It was not such a good time for kitty.  When I first thought about my trip, I decided to take her to the vet and let him keep her for the time I am gone.  He could "fix" her and check her out, give shots, whatever she needed.  So I went to arrange it with my local vet.  He did not want to keep her.  He said he already was boarding three dogs and it would not be a good idea.  I peeked around the corner and saw this tiny room with cages.  Kitty has never been confined in a house, let alone a cage.  She would go crazy even without the dogs.  So I decided that it would be best just to leave her here on her own.  She managed for the year or two before I met her.  Her sister does just fine living under the fish taco stand next door (well that, plus what she steals from kitty).  Her sister can share now.  But I still needed to get her "fixed".  I made an appointment with the vet to take her in at 9:00 and pick her up at 3:00.  Jennifer loaned me her carrying case for her dog so I placed it in the living room so kitty could get used to it.  Being the curious cat that she is, as soon as she spotted it she headed over, sniffed it and climbed in and laid down.  Wonderful!  But I could not give her any food after 8:00 the previous night, so that morning I left her on the balcony screaming.  After 8:00 I decided to get her in the cage.  Sure enough, she went right in.

But, I had never tried to attach the door before.  It has a hinge and two locks.  I could not get one of the locks closed.  Since I still had to shower and shave, I just pushed the cage up against a heavy chest I have.  She screamed so much that I closed the door to the bathroom.  Not too long later, she stopped screaming.  Good! I thought,  But when I opened the bathroom door, I found that kitty had opened the door and pushed herself away from the chest.  This time she was not anxious to get back inside.  Her four paws were splayed with all claws out.  Some how I manged to get her in and finally lock the door.  I dropped her off at the vet, but a few hours later he called.  I panicked!  Did she die on the operation table, or maybe she was really a boy?  No, it seems that she had already been "fixed"  By whom and when?  I told him I would be right down.  He said she was already sedated and not to come by until after 3:00.  She was still extremely groggy and when I opened the cage, she had trouble standing up.  Her back legs were not functioning.  He said the sedation would only last a few hours, but four hours later she was still staggering.  She kept screaming and pacing back and forth by the sliding glass doors.  She wanted out.  I could not let her onto the balcony as she has to jump three feet to reach the rail, or five feet to reach the hole in the wrought iron to get to the apartment next door,  Had I planned this better, maybe I should have got a kitty liter box and a bed for her.  But I had not, so I took her down to the front door.  She looked warily around (like she had no idea where she was) but eventually got across the sidewalk and under a car.  I thought this may be the last I see of her.  The following morning there she was waiting for her food.  She acted like nothing had happened and was just as affectionate as ever.  Did she really not remember, or was the desire for food over powering her judgement.  Who knows?

I fed her quite a bit the last day.  She is getting so fat, she could probably go for several days without eating (not that she would like it).  I was afraid that this would be the final straw and kitty would vanish before I got back.  But there she was waiting on the balcony in the blazing afternoon sun.  She was hungry, but otherwise acted like nothing had happened.  Maybe they really have no memory.  But then, my memory is not was it once was, so we make a perfect pair.