MOVING, THE FINAL CHAPTER

At one point, I felt that it might be my own final chapter.  I was living proof of Murphy's Law (anything that could go wrong, will go wrong).  Let's start with the fan.  It was obvious that the "super" was not going to put it up.  The "good" electrician was on vacation (I think most of Mexico is on a permanent vacation), so I got a young kid to do it.  Right away I knew it was over his head.  The installation required two lines (one for the fan and one for the light).  We set off for the Fretteria (hardware store) where he bought 100 feet of lamp cord.  The wiring in the building appears to be good copper wire, but this was not going to be.  He could not manage to "fish" the wire through to the wall switch.  I was never sure exactly what the problem was, but after two days he was able to "gerryrig" a wire off another wall switch.  I did not like the way it looked, so I chiseled out part of the concrete wall myself to hide part of the wire.  Then he insisted that he needed a metal bar to hang the light from the ceiling.  I did not like the idea of a "hanging fan", but what can you do.  We went off the the iron works factory where he picked up a rusted, crooked piece of iron and proceeded to hammer into a straight line.  The fan now works, which was a God sent for the air conditioning does not.

While he was there working  under the sweltering conditions of that apartment I told him of the problem of the air conditioner.  He spoke to the "super" and discovered that neither he nor the manager knew how or where to buy freon gas (unbelievable, but true).  He knew an air conditoning man and arranged with his friend to have it delivered the next day.  Of course he was late arriving and by then the office was closed and no one (not even the super) has a key to the roof (Unbelievable, but true,again),  He came back the following morning, put the freon gas in and then discovered that there is a "major electric problem" with the air conditioning.  Each day, I am told it will be fixed "manana".

My favorite bar tender had offered to help me move and he had a friend with a pickup truck.  We set it up for Saturday.  But his friend decided to take his girl friend to  the river instead, so we had no luck.  Filipe (my favorite bar tender) said he would carry the pots (one by one) the two blocks to my new apartment.  He is a big strong guy, but I just did not see that as an option.  We talked to the other bar tender who did have a truck and he agreed to move me on Sunday.   He never showed up and never called, but I later heard that his brother had taken the truck and he did not know where he was.  So, he said he would be there on Monday night (for sure) when Filipe got off work.  He did not show up and no one had his telephone number.  He was robbed a few weeks ago in Monterrey while visiting his girl friend and new baby and they took his cell phone.  Either he never go another phone, or he has a different number.  Filipe again offered to carry the pots, but he as sick with the flu and was running a fever.  I sent him home.

The guy who runs the tour buses in front of my building said he had a truck and would move me at 6:00 that night.  When he did not get there by 7:00,  I panicked.  If I had not been stood up the previous three nights, maybe it would not have bothered me so much.  He arrived with a little skinny guy, but they both put the pots on their shoulders and started down the stairs.  Since I had borrowed a dolly from my friend, I wanted to show them how much easier it would be if they used the dolly.  So I put on of the smaller plants on the dolly and of course it fell off and cascaded down the stairs, breaking the plant and scattering dirt everywhere.  The rest went smoothly and my ten plants are now happy on my new deck.

Since I still have no furniture in my new apartment, I am spending my last two nights here with my friend (so I can finish cleaning my old apartment).  Because I will not be here on November 1st, I must give the manager another months rent.  This means that I have paid 4 months rent on an apartment I have never slept in while paying for my old apartment (which is paid through Nov. 15th).   I have spent about $1000 US on the new apartment for which I do not even have a signed lease for.  I think I told you in the beginning that I wound up in Mexico instead of the South of France because I made some very bad financial decisions.  Obviously, I have learned nothing.  Sadly age does not necessarily make one brighter.   Hopefully when I return in a month, the air conditioner will be working and I will have a bed to sleep on (the reason they wanted 3 months advance rent was to order the furniture) Anyway I am sending you a few photos to give you a taste of what the new apartment will look like.  I will be back in one month.

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MORE ON THE NEW APARTMENT

Moving anywhere can be difficult and trying on the nerves.  Moving in Mexico is a whole new experience.  My Realtor (who spoke perfect English) went on vacation shortly after renting me the apartment (or he is just refusing my calls).  Neither the manager or the "super" speak one word of English (mind you, there isn't a Mexican in the building).  I have a list of 15 questions and complaints and no one to give it to.  I still have no signed copy of the lease (which is in Spanish). It has now been over a month, since I paid three months rent in advance.  Since all the furnished apartments were rented, they told me that they had to order new furniture (thus the three months in advance).  Did I have a choice?  NO!  It would be the same ugly Mexican modern that the rest of the units had.  I did insist on a queen size bed.  A king would be too large for the room and since I sleep alone (regrettably) it would be a waste of space.  We will see.

I was given permission to paint, providing I returned it to the same ugly off white when I left.  What I did not realize at the time is that the entire apartment would have to have been painted for any other tenant.  The former occupant had a dog.  You can tell by all the dirty spots on the wall where the dog scratched himself.  Either the apartment had been vacant for a long time of the former tenant was a real pig.  I had to clean the walls and base boards before I could paint.  I am still waiting for the apartment to be cleaned (as they promised).

I told you of my problem in getting a painter, so I have painted the entire apartment myself.  I bought small cans of paint first, as I was not sure of the colors I wanted (I now have four unused paint cans).  What I did not know is that each time you order a can of paint, it is a slightly different shade.  It gives the walls a sort of water color look, and I thought it looked more Mexican so I did not fuss.  When I decided on the yellow I wanted, I did want to make the same mistake so I ordered a gallon of paint.  It was so different from the one I selected I had to repaint every bit of yellow.  It was a Sunday and the paint store was closed and complaining would do not good anyway (complaining never does here, they do not care).  Their thought would be, "Hey they are both yellow.  What is your problem?".  As it turned out the new yellow was a little more subtle than the brilliant Mexican yellow I had picked out and maybe easier to live with anyway.

The customer may be King in the U.S. but in Mexico he is a second class citizen.  I was told that I needed a powerful "surge box" for all my electric gadgets because the electricity goes on and off so often.  I bought one at Office Max, but in six months it died.  I took it back with the receipt and they said that their products are only warrantied for one week.  If it does not fail in one week, you are out of luck.

Gas and water were included, but I had to pay for electric, cable and Internet.  After my four month fight with Telecable, I did not want to go back there, but found out that they are the only cable company that has the English channels.  I was hoping they would not remember me.   In order the get electricity you must go to the main office downtown to sign a "contracto".  Even a Mexican can not do it by phone.  I was told where the office was located and I was sure I knew how to get there by bus (I did not)  Once I found the office it went very smoothly.  Since I do not have a signed lease they took the receipt I have for the three months I paid in advance.  You have to give them a deposit (normal) but you also have to pay what ever the last tenant left without paying (fortunately for me, he did not owe that much).  Then it was off to the dreaded Telecable.  No one recognized me (all old, fat, grey haired gringos look alike to them).  It will cost me more money each month since I am no longer sharing the Internet with my neighbor, but hopefully I bought a more reliable and faster network.   They also needed the name and address of a local who knew me, and my pass port.  WHY?  Well, because it is Mexico. 

The cable company could not install until I had electricity.  The electric company said the power would be turned on in one to five days (that is Mexican days).  After eight days I had the building manager call them.  The electricity had been connected a week ago.  There is a switch below the meter on the street that had to be flipped (wouldn't you think that the manager or super would know that?).  I still have not been able to get an answer from Telecable.

Since I needed permission to install tile in the kitchen, I had to wait until the following Monday.  The tile man needed 7 to 9 days to finish the tile and he needed money for materials.  I went ahead and gave him 2,000 pesos and ordered the tile.  I had to have it finished before moving in and I wanted it done before the furniture arrived.  There was no margin for error.  I know, I know, in a country where nothing happens on time or goes according to schedule.  I got permission and the tile was started two days later.  The problem was the new sink I bought.  It was not "exactly" the size of the old one.  That was just the first problem, when the old sink was removed the rotted pressed wood underneath collapsed.  One good thing about Mexicans is that they can fix or salvage almost anything (In the US the whole thing would have been thrown out).

The tile is almost done and looks gorgeous (photos will have to wait until I get back).  So I went down to the office to find out where my signed lease was, and where the furniture was and when it would be delivered.  The don't have the lease back from the owner of the building and they are going to bring the old furniture I don't like, down from an empty apartment (the man died).  They said my Queen size bed would be delivered later and they would take the old King out (what are the odds??).  I still have not been able to arrange for my "stuff" to be brought across the border or I would have taken the apartment unfurnished.

The blog is becoming a " Book".  I have been so busy painting and cleaning that I have not even begun to pack.  I leave for Turkey in less than two weeks and must move before packing for the trip.  The air conditioners do not work and they have yet to install my fan.  The ceiling light in the bathroom is broken and the buzzer to the downstairs door does not work.

Stay tuned.......


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NEW APARTMENT

I arrived here last year in the height of the season.  There were almost no apartment for me to choose from.  I took the first decent one that I found.  This year I did not want to make the same mistake so I started looking in July.  To my surprise, there still weren't that many choices.  I wanted to remain in the Zona Romantica (I like the name and that is where all my bars are located).  I also did not want to have to climb several blocks straight up a hill when coming home from the bars.

I wanted a two bedroom so I had an extra room for my office and another room for guests.  Another big requirement for me was a large covered deck or terrace.  I love plants and have really enjoyed sitting on my deck and watching the rain pour down.  I also wanted a Mexican looking place (but not too Mexican).  After a while I realized that I might have to give up on some of my requirements.

A Realtor showed me a very nice place, but it was too far up the hill, then he told me about one he had not yet seen.  It turned out to be the large modern building I pass almost every day going to my gym or my Spanish class.  I had never looked up at the building to see the "For Rent" sign hanging off the building.  I wasn't thrilled with the look, but amazed when I saw the size of the apartments.  There were five available at the time.  Within one week there were only two, so I knew I had to make a decision.  There was only 1500 pesos difference between the one and the two bedroom, but the only two bedroom left was on the top floor which did not have a roof over the deck.  The one bedroom had the same huge living area, so I took it.   From the laundry room through the kitchen, dinning area and living room is forty feet long, plus a fourteen foot terrace. 

I was hoping for a "quiet neighbor".  This one does not have a lot of cross traffic, but the tour buses are loaded and unloaded in front of my building.  The time when they start and finish varies with each person I ask.  Either they do not kow, or they do not want me to know (I assume they do not run all night long).  I am not sure there is a "quiet neighborhood" anyway, as Mexicans are just noisy by nature.

Even furnished, there was plenty of room for my desk and I could bring down my card table and four french chairs, my breakfront and several other pieces of furniture that I have lived with for 35 to 50 years.  Of course I still don't know how successful I will be in getting my "stuff" down here.  The furniture in the apartment is new, and what I call Mexican Modern (truly hideous) so I need something to make it more Mexican and more "me".  I was surprised when I emailed the Mexican Consulate in Santa Ana that they immediately sent me a form to start the process.  Time will tell, nothing is easy in Mexico.  With the FM3 card I am allowed to bring down an entire household duty free.  The duty can be quite high.  Of course I have also been warned that even if the truck passes customs, the "corrupt fedaralis" can stop the truck and demand more money or simple take the goods or the entire truck.  You never know in Mexico.

The first thing I thought I could do was to paint some bright colors on the walls.  I have decided on green, yellow, peach and orange (just about what I have now). I know it sounds more like Bermuda than Mexico, but you will see, it will pull together.  I am still trying out different shades and have yet to settle of which colors I like.  Of course I wanted a "professional painter".  I have painted all my homes, but I have no equipment here.  What a shock when the paint store did not know of a "professional painter".  I think the problem is that every Mexican thinks he can paint.

My favorite bar tender (whom I regard as a close friend) suggested I hire an unemployed friend of his.  I was not crazy about the idea, but figured I could work with him to make sure he was not too messy and it would help him out.  I wanted to know what he charged by the hour.  He did not want to do that, but rather bid on the total job.  Not my plan, but I arrange to meet him at the apartment.  He arrived with another friend and they carefully measured every inch of the place, then took a long time to figure up the price.  It was 8,850 pesos, plus paint (a months salary to most Mexicans)  Keep in mind that it is a two day job (one for two professional painters).  After they picked me up off the floor they dropped it to 7.500 (what I pay for a months rent).  I said I would call them, but told my "bartender buddy" that the price was just to high so I was going to paint it myself.  In truth, I will have the "super" for the building paint the ceilings and laudry room (I don't trust him with the rest of it)  He offered to paint the entire apartment for 2800 pesos.  I know all Mexicans think that they are expected to rip on the "gringo" but if they were a little more reasonable, they would get more work.


The photos are the "before shots".  You will have to wait a while for the finished product as I am leaving for Turrkey a week after I move in.  I will order more equipali (pig skin) furniture and new drapes for the bedroom when I return.  You will also note that I do not have the view I had.  Mostly I just look at the streets, but there is an large abandoned garden directly across the street.  I think I will like it, mainly because it is exactly the location I wanted.

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THE FM3 CARD

If you are wondering why it has taken me so long to write another blog, it isn't because I am lazy (which I am) or because I am out of ideas (which is also true).  It is because my Internet has not been working except a few hours in the middle of the night or early in the morning.  When the company was called, they said, "we are working on it"  In Mexico that translates to "we do not have a clue".  This has been going on for almost a month.  It is Mexico!!

When you enter Mexico, you are given a six month visa.  With a FM3 card, you are considered a legal resident and can stay as long as you want.  Since I planned on returning every 4 or 5 months for doctors, etc.  I did not see the need for one.  Then I began to hear more reasons to apply.  You cannot open a bank account here without an FM3 (I have yet to decide if I need an account here).  As a senior you can use the card to apply for a discount on buses and Mexican Airlines.  Then I heard that within the first six months you can bring a whole household down here with no duty.  I do have "stuff I would like to have shipped down here, so after a friend of mine got his card, I decided to apply.

He paid a lawyer 1,800 pesos, plus fees to handle it for him.  My apartment manager said they had a lawyer who would handle it for 1,500.  Then a new friend told me that I could do it on my own and he would take me to the immigration office, and walk me through it.  How could I resist?

Part One was easy.  I waited only about 20 minutes for the "downstairs" lady" to go over my paper work.  I was told that among other items, I needed to copy every page of my passport.  The first thing she did was to rip off the first two pages and throw the rest away.  She gave me a form that had to be filled out in Spanish, told me a needed a "request letter' and gave me a bill of about $40.00.  You can't pay her, but must find a bank (about a half mile away), pay the bank and get a receipt, then make two copies of the receipt.  My friend then took me to a woman about a block down the street who filled out the form and printed out the letter for about $2.00.  Next the trek to the bank to get the receipt.

Once I had the receipt and the copies made across the street at an Internet cafe, I carried the paper work back to the "downstairs lady"  She looked over the paper work and gave me a number and sent me upstairs.  My number came up in about 15 minutes.  Every paper was stamped with something then he told me to check their web site for when the card was approved in about 10 days.

I found the web site, but of course it was all in Spanish, so I had a friend of mine check it.  Within one week, the web site said it was ready.  On my own, I managed to find the place and went to see the downstairs lady.  I waited for almost an hour for her to check my status and give me another bill that I had to take to the bank.  I raced off, but the bank wasn't operating.  It was open, but not working (maybe their computers).  A man told me to come back in two hours.  Since the Immigration place closed at 2:00, I had less than an hour.  He directed me down the street to the next bank.  I asked how far and he said it was "a couple of blocks"  I walked for 15 minutes and no bank.  Then I spotted an American walking toward me that looked like he lived here.  I asked him.  He said the bank in the direction I was headed was about a 30 minute walk, but there was one in the other direction.  I told him I was just there and the bank was not working.  He told me that there were three banks there. ( I guess the guy was directing me to one of their own branches.)  I raced back with less than 30 minutes to go.  I found the other bank, got my receipt, got the duplicate and raced back to Immigration.  I had 5 minutes to spare, but luckily once you are inside they continue to process you application.

It took about an hour, but I finally got my FM3 card.  I am now officially a Mexican resident.  I thought
this would make it easier to go in and out of Mexico.  No so!  Before I leave the country I have to go to an immigration office at the airport and get permission to leave (Nothing is easy in Mexico).   Now I must find out what kind of paper work I need to get my "stuff" sent here without paying duty on all of it.
I went back to the same "downstairs lady" and found out that there are forms I must get at the Customs office at the airport.  Stay tuned.......

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THEN THE RAINS CAME

In Puerto Vallarta, rain is legendary.  I heard tales of thunder and lighting displays that are unbelievable.  They have torrential rains that turn the streets into rivers.  There are no storm drains here, so the streets carry all the water (and dirt) from the mountains to the sea.  I did not know how much was true, but  I was looking forward to the "rainy season".

As the summer progressed, the temperatures rose; I began to pray for rain.  There had been some rain in the mountains that surround us, but not a drop in the village.  Each week, I was told, "It will rain next week" NOTHING!!  Then one night just as I was leaving my favorite bar, there was a light sprinkle.  It was not a real rain, but it did drop the temperature by about 20 degrees.  As soon as I got home, I took off my clothes and headed for the deck where I let the cool mist fall on my naked body. I loved it.   Don't get excited, I was wearing my underpants.  In the heat and humidity nothing is more comfortable than underwear.   After the "snow birds" across the street went back to wherever they came from, my deck is really private.  No sane person would ever want to look at my naked body anyway.
                                                                      
But then the sun came out and the humidity went up.  For the next week or so we had a few light mists, but not real rain.  Then one night after "happy hour"  I was headed for a little (cheap) side walk cafe around the corner.  Then it really began to pour.  I was under a little awning while I ate, so I was fine.  After paying my bill, I still had a full glass of beer (in a plastic cup) so I decided to walk home in the rain and finish my beer on the way.  Drinking in public is not only NOT against the law, it is a tradition here.  The rain felt good, but my sandals got soaked crossing the streets.  It rained all night long.

The next day, I ventured out anxious to see what the rain had done.  The trees and plants were washing clean and looked wonderful.  The sidewalks and streets were another thing.  There were mud puddles everywhere.  It takes about a month of rain to wash everything down (there is a lot of dirt here).  It has rained some almost every day, mostly at night.

Then one night I was awakened by a clap of thunder so loud it sounded like a bomb had gone off.  The lightning was so frequent it looked as if the street was being lit by strobe lights.  I went up to the deck.  The drain spouts were shooting water 3 or 4 feet into the street.  I love the sound of rain on a roof (as most people do).  But my building (which has a tile roof) is surrounded by commercial buildings with corrugated aluminum roofs.  You can not imagine the sound of several inches of rain an hour on all those tin roofs.  It sounded like the opening act of a Cirque de Soleil.  It rained all night and in the morning the trees on the mountains seemed to have greened up overnight (maybe it was just that the dirt was washed off)

The rain has continued for over a month, some of them fierce, but we have not had the 10 to 12 hours of rain that put the streets under two feet of water.  We'll have to wait and see if the tales are true.

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TIA JOSEPHINA

Yes, I am happily back in Mexico with the heat, humidity, and dirt, but this posting will not be about Mexico.  I am writing about my aunt's 100th birthday.  Don't fuss, I will get back to Mexico in fact I have two posting in the works.  This day was an important time in my life, so I thought you might be interested in it.

She is not really Tis Josephina, nor is she even Josephine, but just plain Jo.  Yet there is nothing plain about this remarkable woman.  She is, in fact, the most extraordinary woman I have ever known.  Not just because she has survived in such good shape for 100 years, and not because she was (and still it) a great beauty.  She is also one of the brightest people you will meet.  She still handles all of her own finances and investment (and does extremely well at it).  She follows fashion (Vogue, etc) politics, and all news.

She is also one of the kindest woman (the staff at her "home" all love her).  She has been a surrogate mother to me since my own mother died almost 50 years ago.  I think my favorite of her many traits is her quick wit  and a bawdy sense of humor.  Now, about her family.

She only had one son (who is in much worse shape than she is), three grandsons, two great grandchildren, and three great, great grandchildren.  All but one attended the party, along with their wives and significant others.  Like many large families, there are some feuds (some had not spoken to each other in many years) yet all seemed to gather around for her celebration.  Also attending were her younger (now deceased) sister's two children.  One I had not seen in 55 years.  Her niece (my cousin) seems to be the only one in the family to have inherited her genes.  I know she is close to my age, but she looks barely 45 or 50.

The highlight of the day was a slide show prepared by her youngest grandson.  It started with photos of my grandfather as a child, and when he was on the KU football team in 1896.  There were photos all through her long life including a lot of photos when she was modeling.  After leaving modeling, she became the top Realtor in her area, outselling every other Realtor.  I was delighted to see that the show also included my favorite photo of Serge.  It must have been a lot of work putting it all together and he deserves a great deal of credit for it.

We were all worried about her over tiring herself, so shortly after the slide show and cake, she was escorted back to her room.  She later said, that it ended much too soon and she was left with a "where did every body go?)  We assume she rested up for the party, but she really wanted it to go on for several more hours.

I have included a picture of her portrait that hangs in my bedroom in Mexico (how it wound up there is too long a story).  Then a photo I took at her party.  Yes, she does look older, but there is almost 50 years between the two pictures.  She is totally recognizable while my passport photo from just 20 years ago looks like another person.

She has not seen this posting (she has yet to master the computer) but she has seen other photos from the party and she was appalled.  She could not believe how old she looked and said she thought she looked like 'an old woman"  (at 100 you might ask??)  I told her it was her beautician fault.  I guess trying to do something special she gave her all those "old lady curls".  I told her that a simpler "do" would have made her look much younger.  You will see that I am right when I take a photo of her 110th birthday (assuming I am still alive)

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SPANISH CLASS

All along I knew that I would have to learn some Spanish.  After some inquiring, I was told about some Language Schools and some suggested a private tutor (too expensive and I wanted the interaction of a class).  There are a lot of schools here (mostly teaching English) but none are near me and I was afraid that the classes would be in the evening and thus interfere with my "cocktail hour".

Then my martini swilling drinking buddies told me that they were taking a class at a small social club just two blocks from my apartment.  I stopped by, for I pass it on my way to the gym to inquire about the classes.  I was told that the ongoing classes were advanced and that I should wait for a beginner's class to begin.  When would this occur?  They were not sure, maybe 4 to 6 weeks depending on how many people signed up.  I gave them my name, number and address and asked them to let me know.  I tried talking to my friend who has lived here for two years.  In spite of the fact that he knows almost no Spanish, and can't even pronounce the name of the streets, he had no interest.

I noticed that the club had posted some signs advertising the new Spanish class and assumed they were still trying to get more people interested.  I intended to stop by periodically, then a little more than a week after my first visit, I noticed one of the posters had fallen on the sidewalk.  I took it inside only to discover that indeed classes were starting the following day.  Why didn't someone call me?  You get the Mexican shrug.

I did make it a little before ten the following morning, barely conscious.  The previous night had been the night of the exploding church with all the fire works.  After the nine bells finally stopped I had a glass of wine (or maybe two) to calm my nerves so I could get back to sleep.  So, I was not too disappointed when we were told that the instructor could not make it and classes would start the following day at 9:30.  Why didn't someone call me?  Mexican shrug.   There was only one other woman there and she was quite upset for she had Pilate's class the following morning.

I was there early and eager and found there was only one other guy there (the Pilate's woman never showed up again).  We started with pronunciation.  It seems that Spanish has a lot of double vowels and each are to be pronounced.  Unlike French, every letter is to be pronounced, which makes it a little easier.  We progressed to vocabulary, adjectives, and one verb.  I was happy there were only two of us for we got the maximum of attention, but I did mention the class to another friend.  He started the next day.  At first I thought I had made a mistake for the two of them had lived here for years and knew a lot of Spanish,  I knew none.  So, I had to study twice as hard to keep and and in the long run it helped me.

A local bar has started a "conversation class" for its clients.  It seemed like a good idea, but I did not get much out of the first meeting (maybe because I consumed four beers).  To be honest, I have as much trouble understanding the instructors English, let alone his Spanish.  But people do converse and if I sit there long enough (and cut down on the alcohol) I hope to pick up something.

I am proud to say that I have graduated from beginning class and will begin the advanced.  That does frighten me a little for that group has been studying together since January.  I have had to learn hundreds of words and although I can only speak in the present tense, I do get by.  In fact I have finally (after almost 6 months) managed to get bottled water delivered on my own.  For some reason I never had any problem getting alcohol (ODD).

A NOTE TO MY READERS:

I will be taking the rest of the summer off.  Frankly I am running out of topics and I am not as funny as I used to be (as evidnced by the drop off in my readership)  I will be attending my aunt's 100th birthday in July and will be back in California in October to prepare for my trip to Turkey.  So I not sure when I resume my blogs.  Of course,  I might come back sooner by "popular demand" if more or you wrote to tell me you miss me.  Until then, "Hasta Luego"