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After a call from the caretaker, Castulo’s son, who speaks good English, there was a lot of jumping up and down. He told us that we could move into the new place right away. I think Rosalie would have gone right there and then, but… there was a hockey game about to start so I vetoed the idea. Besides, there wasn’t anything prepared for us to sleep over there.

This made everything so much easier. The move could be made without having to worry about what was needed in each place. Just move the essentials and then get the rest of the crap later. A few things had already been moved and plans were being made as to what to move next. The rest of the end-of-season packing can be done at our leisure over the next week. Of course, we have to store everything up high as we have no idea if we are going to be flooded or not.

Everything was moved in six carloads. Rosalie couldn’t help because someone had to wait for the Propane guy. (Or maybe the butane guy; we don’t know which.) He said delivery the next day but we think he meant the day after the next day.

I had to take a cold shower as there was still no propane. Brrrr! The gas truck showed finally up, oops! wrong truck, this was the bulk delivery guy. He said he would make a call and the right guy would be there soon. I didn’t believe him…five minutes later he showed up. The guy’s name is Alex and a very nice person. He swapped out the tank and checked for leaks. We had never seen any delivery guy do that before. Of course, he found some. The Tank itself was leaking from the base of the valve so he had to get another tank. Then he put some Teflon tape on a joint on the hose. He tested again and this time everything was fine. He gave us his number for next year.

There were a few other teething problems. The toilet needed some fixing as the flushing handle stuck down. Also, after a great night’s sleep, I was up at 6 am and enjoying a cup of coffee on the patio, when, at about 7:10 I got the dawn chorus from the nearby military camp. Not much of a video because the second half was still mostly dark. I think it was awesome. You may have to turn your audio up a bit louder. The first bugle starts at 5 am but we usually sleep through that. These clips are shown in reverse, the first taken at 7:30 am and the second at 7: 10.

I thought we would miss the birds at the old place, but there seem to be even more here. We haven’t heard any doves yet But I’m sure we will. There are the inevitable roosters but we’re used to them. I was saying to Rosalie that at least there are no goats here. A half an hour later a huge tribe went right by on the street. Oh well!

Next door to us is a vacant lot and someone jokingly said “I hope they don’t build a high rise there. We laughed! On our second day, someone was in there cutting down trees with a machete. I hope he wasn’t clearing the lot but just looking for some scaffold poles.

After I had unloaded the last carload I had a rest and then went uptown to buy a few things. I need a new charging cord for my Mac book as I fell asleep twice with it on my lap and it fell off landing on the cord where it plugged into the computer. I blame Rosalie for this as she should have woken me. I also tried to return some empty beer bottles that have been laying around for a while only to be told that they don’t take those back anymore, nor do they refund our deposit. I also bought an electric kettle because at the end of that day, still no gas.

Oh yeah, and the goats came by again; several times.

Not my usual kind of blog but interesting if you want to know what Americans think about Mexico. Writen by an American.

Fred on Everything

By

Fred Reed

Corrective Notes from the (Very) Deep South

American notions of Mexico are often decades out of date or just wrong. Nativists suffering from what appears to be minor mental unbalance sometimes refer to it as a Third World hellhole, which is silly. The country has problems, corruption, organized crime, uneven distribution of wealth. The bureaucracy can be maddening. The cartels engage in intramural massacres. Things are uneven: In remote areas roads have sometimes crumbled to the point that cars need to proceed at two miles an hour, while elsewhere first-rate modern highways punch through horrific mountainous terrain. Yet all in all, Mexico is reasonably prosperous, modern and, in most things competent. It is not Japan or South Korea, not a technological leader and never will be, but hellhole it ain’t.

Among outdated ideas is that the Mexican population is exploding. It is not. The CIA World Factbook puts total births per woman in Mexico at 2.17, .07 above replacement, and mother’s mean age at first birth, as 21.3. In the Fifties, the birth rate was astronomical. Now, no. Why the change?

An anecdotal explanation for the drop in fertility: When I came to Mexico twenty years ago, I met Lupita, a pretty and very Indian woman, from a family of eleven (!) siblings. She had two children. The son is now a lawyer, the daughter a doctor. Why only two children, I asked. She said she could have two, raise them well, and live in a nice house, or have a dozen and live in a shack, and said that if I tried having a baby, I wouldn’t want ten more. I might add that Lupita and her American husband founded a successful elder-care service, with Lupita handling the facility and routine nursing with hubby managing patient relations.

A broader explanation for the drop in fertility and a great many other things in Mexico is that the country is becoming middle class, loosely defined as having a house, job, husband or wife, refrigerator, and children in school. The middle class all around the world has low crime, small families, and values education.

Health in Mexico is generally good. The Fact Book puts life expectancy at birth in Mexico at 76.9 years.America: 77 years. These figures do not suggest a disease-ridden hellhole. 

Another belief common in America is that Mexicans would all move to the US if they could. No. In the past the reason for emigrating northward was money, nothing else. American culture is seldom attractive to Mexicans. As the economy has improved, emigration has dropped, with impoverished Central Americans now going north.

Mexico is not a technological backwater. Landline telephones, cellphones, and WIFI work. Mexican airlines have good safety records, train their pilots, maintain high-bypass turbofans and avionics. In Guadalajara, a medical center, I have twice had eye surgery with good results, an MRI, for $150, and various instrument-heavy procedures. The poor, rural, and uninsured have less access to medical care, but this is also true in America, where many do not go to doctors because of cost. 

Racialists in America believe that Mexicans lack the intelligence to run a technologically modern society. This is silly, especially given that they are doing it, but enough people believe it to make it worth examining. A little thought reveals that any visible technical service requires a long chain of tech-savvy upstream support requiring many competent people. Consider banks, which are everywhere. Banks contain people who understand currency transactions, intermediate banks, accounting, and such, and sit at computers maintained and networked within the bank by somebody the bank itself linked to corporate, probably in Mexico City, by wide-area engineers and systems programmers, all talking to each other on a telephony net involving thousands of cell towers and hierarchical switching centers run by alpha-geeks and software wizards. Similar chains could be adduced for other fields.

The Mexican government, while not at East Asian standards, does most things fairly well. For example, when Mexico started vaccinating for covid, the first vaccination was a badly organized goat rope, though everybody eventually got the injection. Months later, the second was a walk-in, the third much later well organized. To get the certificated needed to fly, you enter your CURP, the Mexican social-security number, at a governmental site, and the document appears moments later by email. None of this is astonishing, being routine in modern countries. Which is my point.

Education? The World Factbook puts literacy at 95 percent, ahead of America (Ed. Dept. Baltimore.) The country is heavy on universities. For example, there is UNAM, the Universidad Nacional Autónoma e México, in Mexico City with 350,000 students. The Technológica de Monterrey, the premier technological school, has campuses in 38 cities.

In Guadalajara there are:

La Universidad de Guadalajara. La Universidad Marista. La Universidad Autónoma de Guadalajara. ITESO (Jesuit, the sciences, 11,000 students).

OK, I was going to make an exhaustive list of universities in Guad, but decided it would take too long. Herewith a list for any interested.

I can’t judge these schools on quality, but they are at least reasonably good. At the two I have experience of, the Universidad Marista where my stepdaughter Natalia did her undergraduate, and the Universidad de Guadalajara, where she earned her Master’s, the kids dressed casually but neatly. They seemed to see a connection between learning law, engineering, or medicine and making a living. The vapid immaturity of American universities is not there. 

A few years back, at a fiesta de quinceañera, a coming-out party for girls reaching fifteen years, I met a young woman who had popped high on her math PAA (Prueba de Aptitud Académica, the Mexican SATs, and was going to study robotic engineering. Again, I cannot judge quality and do not even know which university she planned to attend. However, tests of math aptitude, girls in engineering, and robotics do not well fit the American nativist notions of primitivism.

(For what it’s worth, the PAA consists of three parts. First, reading complex passages and making inferences from them; second, math; third, English, this part being elementary. Sample question: La recta con ecuación y – 1 = 5(x – 1) contiene el punto (0, p). ¿Cuál es el valor de p? “The plot of  y – 1 = 5(x – 1) contains the point (0, p). What is the value of p?”)

In the US, though it seems to be dying, there is the idea that Mexican society is machista and oppresses girls and women. This is nonsense. Mexican feminists, who know more about it than I do, tell of residual prejudice, as do American feminists, and Violeta reports that among the Indians of the south this can be serious. Yet half of the Mexican congress is female (US, 27 percent). Since these are elected positions, with universal suffrage at eighteen years and older, the population cannot be Talibanic.

While I do not have statistics on higher education, the two universities with which I am familiar are littered with girls. Dentistry and medicine, to include specialties, are, to my personal knowledge, heavily female. Again, I am no student of the matter, but things seem to be at about the First World average. Saudi Arabia it isn’t.

I feel foolish pointing out as if displaying an exotic animal that Guadalajara, a large city, has the things that one expects in a large city. Yet so many racialists have such curious ideas about Mexico that I do it anyway: Guad has 88 bookstores (of which I know perhaps six, all good) and other regions keep up. This astonishes conservative friends who visit.

Poverty exists, some of it ugly, and should not be lightly overlooked. While (says the World Fact Book) per capita GDP is at $17,900, distribution is highly unequal, as increasingly is the case in America. “Middle class” in Mexico would in the US be called lower middle-class. Much of the economy is informal, with people washing cars in parking lots for a living, or windshields at stoplights. Not good. On the other hand, Mexico does not have America’s sprawling homeless camps on urban sidewalks but (here I am guessing) Mexico’s closer familial bonds may account for this.

The narcos are as bad as you have heard, and probably worse. They have been out of control as long as I have been here. Given the amount of money involved, there probably is no solution. Americans, in their tens of millions eager for drugs, provide the market and furnish the narcos with weaponry. Latin America, certainly including Mexico, provides the drugs. On both sides of the border, banks want the laundered money, or launder it themselves. Politicians want the bribes. DEA, FBI, and so on want the jobs. The drug trade is an integral part of the world economy, like Walmart, and isn’t going to go away.

The internet is pervasive.  In the first month of 2021, there were 92 million active users, 88 million mobile users, in a population of 131 million. The social media seem as much a plague here as anywhere else. People peer at smartphones as much as anywhere.

Here I speculate but I think the Net has worked a massive transformation in Mexico. As mentioned, it is, as we used to say, all over hell and half of Georgia. Coverage is good in populated regions. Bars and the like have screens, often several. The net is a big deal.

When I came through Ajijic almost forty years ago, towns around about were backwaters barely with newspapers and a.m. radio as the only link with the larger world. Today Mexico’s teenagers, as bright and curious and larcenous as everybody else’s, are aware of the whole world. They listen to music from Memphis and Mongolia, almost live on Facebook, watch movies and soap operas from China and Japan (these are available with Spanish subtitles), and use VPNs to (I love the phrase) “espofear los servidores,” spoof the servers, to get streaming content free. For adults, major countries have news services online in Spanish. When people who once would have been called rednecks, or gente muy ranchera, have access to the net, they will use it. It makes for a different world. This morning, for example, in La Jornada, I read a Spanish translation of Noam Chomsky’s thoughts on the Ukraine. This sort of thing is normal now.

Finally, large numbers of Americans live here happily. While estimates vary, Business Insider puts the number at 1.5 million. Why? Perhaps they just like Third World hellholes. Otherwise there are reasons positive and negative. On one hand, living is easy here, somewhat cheaper than in America, with year-round good weather in many parts, friendly people, with most conveniences, shopping and so on available. On the other hand, Mexico does not have the intense anger that eats America, nor the Knockout Game, race riots, and burning cities that have become routine NOB (north of the border, as we say here). No wars. No Biden. No Trump. No wokeness. you could do worse.

Since we found out that the previous tenants of our new place were moving out, we have been itching for ourselves to move in. Things became a little complicated with a huge tragedy. Blanca, who will be our new landlady lives in Oregon with her husband Junior. They are Mexicans and planning on retiring here soon. A few days ago Junior was shot to death in Oregon. There aren’t too many details only that the gunman has been arrested.

We went over to West Melaque to see if we could help out closing their place up but it seemed that things were all under control for now. We may be needed next week though.

The keys weren’t available so a trip was needed to go back later, so off to Rosita’s for breakfast, (one of three by that name that we know of.) I had Huevos Rancheros, two eggs on crispy tortillas, frioles and the whole thing covered in tomato sauce with avocado on the side; also a cup of very good coffee. The whole thing was delicious and mine came to 105 pesos or $6.72 Cdn, with Rosalie’s, it all came to about $12. We’ll be going back for dinner sometime before we leave Mexico.

This is the bacon we get here, delicious, with very little fat and as you can see another bunch of poppers are getting made.

Back to the new casa that evening to meet up with Castulo to get the keys so that the big move can begin.

It’s been fun trying to hook up with all the people we won’t see until next fall. A few days ago, after picking up Dan and Linda, who own a house in Pinal Villa the four of us took a panga across the lagoon in Barra to Restaurante Colimilla. A great time was had by all and at the end of the day and it was capped off with the Leafs beating Boston big time.

We’re looking forward to getting back to Canada. I think the boys at the pub are missing me; yea right: Peter said they already gave my seat away. I don’t think he would do that as he likes me too much. 🙂

Packing still needs to be done, but it’s a bit difficult as a lot of the stuff is needed day-to-day.

I’ve brought this subject up a few times but want to clarify it from my point of view. I’m probably wrong but am going to say it anyway cos it’s my blog.

We run into all assorts of Norteños who speak Spanish…. but they don’t, well… kind of… but not really. They try that’s the important thing.

When I see someone trying to teach Mexicans french

I thought that I had a handle on the language as we’ve been coming here for nearly twenty years. I know perhaps thousands of Spanish words, but do I speak Spanish… No! The ability to pull a complete, understandable sentence out of the maelstrom of your brain is very difficult. I often get it right but by the time I’ve vocalized it the conversation has moved on and I’m left thinking WTF. I do have a library of common sentences though and rely on them a lot.

First thing in a sentence, is it masculine or feminine? Next, the adjective comes after the noun. That’s easy if you know what an adjective and a noun are. What’s the difference between pero (but) and perro (dog)? How about por que (why) and porque (because)? And my favourite what about por and para (both mean for)? It can drive you crazy, or, you can find out what it’s all about and enjoy the language.

We were in Papa Gallo’s and I told the new waitress who spoke no English that I wanted a vino blanco and Rosalie wanted a margarita. A little later Rafa came to our table to confirm that I had ordered a margarita for Rosalie and a margarita with a glass of wine for me. We straightened him out and got our drinks. Later, I apologized to the waitress for my bad Spanish. “Lo siento señorita mi espanol es mal.” (Sorry señorita my Spanish is bad.)

Speaking the language is one thing but understanding it when spoken to me, is a whole new challenge. I try to concentrate on what people are saying and am finding that I can pick out individual words and figure out what is being said. one of the things holding me back is that they may talk back and I don’t understand. I try to have Rosalie with me most of the time to help me out but that’s not always possible so I have to wing it. Rosalie is great with this as she holds back and gives me time to try to figure it out for myself and only corrects me if I ask her to.

Omar is a great help. He speaks slowly and clearly and also has a little English. We think he has a lot of English but isn’t letting on. He was by a while ago, so we waved a can of cerveza at him and he visited for an hour or so to talk to us. As usual, I mostly sat back and listened to Rosalie chat with him and interpret for me. Two things happened: first I found that a lot of the time I didn’t need the translation as I got the gist of the conversation. Secondly, I found myself talking to him in full but small sentences and he understood me. I said what I had to say without thinking too much about it. Also, a few times I had to help Rosalie out. I even corrected her once but won’t do that again as she punches pretty hard.

And I think Spanish is confusing.

It’s a slow process and Mexicans say “Poco a poco” ( little by little.) As a lot of Mexicans here don’t speak English, I think it’s important that as visitors, we have some obligation to at least try to learn their language. We can get embarrassed sometimes by our misinterpretations But other than that, It’s a lot of fun.

I don’t mean old goats like us, I mean real goats.

Goats seem to be a must to have down here. Everywhere we go there are goats. Goats do roam, and there is a herd that hangs out on the road to Melaque. I have to be careful driving by there, especially at night. The other day we saw the herd on the boulevard on highway 200 munching on the grass. I guess the city saves a few bucks that way.

There are a lot of them in our area and we often hear them bleating beyond our walls. And of course, there is the incident last year where two of them walked into our place and before leaving five minutes later, pooped on the walkway. I decided to get my own back and tried some ‘birria’, goat soup, but they had the last laugh. To me it tasted terrible so they don’t have to worry about me using them as a food source. Rosalie however loves it.

We were driving by a tethered goat the other day and it bleated at me in an aggressive way so I bleated back. Rosalie started to laugh as she though it was just me and not a two way conversation. So I can add this to my many other talents. I can bleat like a goat!

The lady on the left thought this was great fun and we had a laugh together as I passed by.

And then I saw this article from the CBC. As there is only so much you can say about goats, I have to change the subject.

Seasons

As I said previously, This season is winding down. Our cleaner was in and when she was finished we were going to start packing. So the first thing we had to do was grab a glass of wine and start planning. We decided to start the next day instead so we’re getting really good at planning but not so much at actualy packing. I’ll keep you pasted on the packing if we ever get around to getting starting. I think we have a few more planning sessions ahead of us. We can’t be too hasty after all.

It gets confusing here sometimes and I confuse seasons with years. I say to Rosalie that something happened last year but she says no that was last season and was actually the year before. So then I mentions something happening last season Rosalie points out that it was this season but last year. I’m so confused.

We met John and Ronda in Barra for an afternoon of fun and drinks. We decided to stay for dinner and while waiting for our orders we noticed a huge fog bank drifting in. Within minutes Melaque disappeared across the bay and shortly after we were hardly able to see the beach.

It became very chilly and all of us who have been coming down here for several years couldn’t recall ever seeing anything like this before. Even the Mexicans were fascinated and came in off the street to take pictures. (of Fog?)

Talking of weird things, I took this picture of a local bag lady but then realized it was my beloved wife. Remember the blog about us getting married? When I saw this I wondered if I had made a huge mistake. The picture was bad enough but now she wants me to steal her a shopping cart, preferably one from Costco as they hold more pop cans.

There are a lot fewer Nortenos here as the season is coming to an end and people are heading home. There are more locals trickling in as the days leading up to St Patrick’s day become less. The festivities last from 8th March until the big day.

Each night, during this period there is a firework display in the main square. They start at 10 pm and continue until something burns down. We attended the St Patrick’s day display several years ago and have been trying to get the courage to go back again. The other problem is that they start at 10 pm and Rosalie is usually in bed by then.

We only have a month left and are trying to sort out our storage needs. There isn’t a big problem but we may have to face a few inconveniences. We have lots of choices so we will know better after talking to Blanca our new landlady. We also have to think about packing as we have a whole load of crap that we have collected over the years. We’re starting to give stuff away and also trying to use up our foodstuff and have less stuff in the pantry.

We just heard from Blanca and we can store our stuff in the new location before we leave, Phew, what a relief.

Us on moving day.

Winding downtime for us is great because there are fewer people in the restaurants. We lost our special table several times because of the tourists. We complained but they ignored us. (They know us too well.) However, the beach people and the waiters are starting to feel the pinch. We Nortenos tend to tip well but the Mexicans only leave a few pesos so the waiters miss us.

Some of the things we have to put up with during happy hour.

For some reason, although we are looking forward to being back in Canada, we aren’t feeling the urgency to leave that we did last year. Perhaps it has something to do with the covid restrictions becoming less. It’s certainly more relaxed this year. We just found out that we don’t need a test to come back to Canada; about time!

They decided to finally do something about the road around here. They started by dumping huge piles of sand ready for levelling. The problem was that they blocked up our usual way of getting to the main road so we had to use a different route. It was touch-and-go as we bottomed out badly a few times. We made it out but I dreaded coming back too soon as they may not be finished, so we went to Papa Gallo’s for a while. They weren’t finished, but we managed to find another route home anyway.

This family was trying to make a few buck so we gave them 50 pesos. Some tourists gave them a few coins as did some Mexicans it looked like to be about 5 pesos each.

While at Papa Gallo’s I was drinking Corona Cero as I was still on meds and Rosalie was having a beer. When Rosalie went to the baño I heard one of the waiters say something in Spanish using the word ‘Rojo’ (red.) I was curious as he was looking out toward the ocean. Then the penny dropped as I saw one of the other guys with a pair of binoculars watching a chiquita in a red bikini. He said, “Hey Chris, wanna look?” I politely declined and told him he was a dirty old man, he knows I am too, that’s why he offered. Besides, I was closer to the beach and could see perfectly well. I’m going to miss all this fun.

This is an embarrassing blog to write.

A few weeks ago I noticed that it was becoming sore to pee. I left it a few days to see if the problem would go away. If it didn’t, I would normally have gone to Doctora Rosa. However, this was in a very delicate location and was somewhat embarrassing so I decided to go to the Trauma Centre to see a male doctor.

I made an appointment for the next day and arrived on time. The doctor arrived and asked me to come into his office. I noticed that he had a lot of certificates showing that he was a former naval surgeon. His bedside manner was not too good but I thought he must be very qualified. I had been told he spoke English but I understood his Spanish better.

He asked me to sit down and asked what the problem was. I told him and he jumped up and left the room. He came back with two packets of meds. No examination, no more questions, just meds. I asked how much and he said $1,000 pesos ($61.) I thought this was a bit steep but as his services were free I didn’t feel that I should complain. He told me to come back in three days.

Three days later, after taking the meds nothing had changed. I googled meds and found that one was an antibiotic and one was a pain killer. I still wonder why they were so expensive.

I went back after the three days and he looked at me somewhat puzzled when I told him that nothing had changed. He gave me a requisition for the lab but by this time I had had enough and decided to bite the bullet and go see Doctora Rosa. Good choice! I think he should stick to operating on belly buttons!

Doctora Rosa is Mexican but has Canadian citizenship. She spends the winters in Mexico and the summers in Canada with her husband on Salt Spring Island. She is a lovely and very attractive woman. So you can see why I was a bit hesitant to see her. However, I made an appointment for the next day.

Rosalie came with me but stayed in the waiting area while I went in to see the Doctora. She asked the problem and I told her. Then she said the dreaded words, “I need to do an examination.”

We went into her examination room and I heard Rosalie yell out, “If I hear him giggle I’m coming in there.” I was told to drop my pants by this attractive Doctora. I did as I was told and she got out a magnifier (???.) It’s a magnifying machine that projects onto a screen. Fortunately, she didn’t need to use it. I think she was just having a laugh to herself. She did the examination and said it was red and a bit swollen (I’m not surprised.) I now have the bragging rights that Doctora Rosa touched the big guy.

She thought it was an infection and prescribed two antibiotics at a cost of $325 pesos or about $20. She also took samples for the lab. The cost, including the lab work was 250 pesos about $15. The total was cost $35 and I got great service.

My lab results came back negative?? I have been taking a supplement, so think it may be that. And no it wasn’t a willy enhancement product, I’ve stopped taking it so we will see. I may have to go back to the Doctora to see if she wants to examine me again.

For the record, Doctora Rosa is a very caring and professional lady and so busy because she is so popular that we have to make an appointment.

There are no photos for obvious reasons.

What I call necessary but sometimes a nuisance. It’s nice and peaceful here until the first flights start to arrive.

When picking people up from the airport you can tell as they come off the plane the newbies from the regulars. The newbies stand and look around apprehensively wondering if their ride has turned up or if they are going to be able to order a taxi in English. They are also still wearing their jeans and long sleeve shirts, running shoes with socks and sometimes even a coat, and perspiring profusely. The regulars stride out with confidence wearing shorts sandals and T-shirts and looking as cool as an icy margarita.

We can also tell who they are as they pass on the street. When we say “buenos dias” they usually reply in a shy way with “Hi” or sometimes “bonjour”. And of course, they are very pale and after a few days very red from sunburn.

We sat at Papa Gallo’s one day and a pale couple came to sit at a table near the beach. Gaby served them and I guess they ordered a beer. There wasn’t any available so Gaby had to hike to the nearest store to get some. In the meantime, the tourists got fed up with waiting (about 5 minutes) and got up to leave. They met up with Gaby as they were going and he showed them they had the beer so they returned to their table.

It’s lucky they weren’t here when it was busy as a 15 to 20 minutes wait is quite acceptable. After a while though, and after several days and a few margaritas, they seem to settle down somewhat. Anyway, who minds waiting when the sun is out, the waves are crashing and a nice breeze is blowing? And of course, you can also watch the chiquitas on the beach

Some order hamburgers and fries at the restaurant because they are a little afraid to try the local food. It may be too spicy and the lettuce may be contaminated. They were told not to have ice in their drinks because this too is contaminated. All nonsense of course but these old silly rumours seem to persist.

There are the quiet ones who just sit and enjoy the scenery and listen to the waves crashing on the beach. And then there are the brash noisy ones (We all know who they are) who treat the waiters as their personal slaves and are only here to party with no regard for those about them.

The ones we get a kick out of are those who have perfect Spanish (they think). We cringe as they mangle the language and look all proud of themselves. They think that because the waiter understood them that they got it exactly right. The waiters though have heard it all before and managed to work it out. But at least some tourists try.

We were walking into town one day and a guy wanted to know if they were serving so stuck his head in the door and enquired “Servieta?” He was asking for a napkin, but he tried.

Another way to tell a tourist is when Banamex ATMs run out of money on the weekends. They are the ones lining up in the heat outside the Intercam bank to try to use the machines while the old hands walk in and use the teller to get money from their accounts. It’s chaos when both banks run out.

The Mexicans are the nicest people you could meet but some can be a little reticent until they get to know you. They may seem standoffish to some tourists and perhaps they feel resentment. Perhaps the Mexicans feel the same way about them.

Tourists always walk in the middle of the road. I think this is because a lot of businesses and homes tend to encroach onto the sidewalks and they don’t want to intrude on the locals. They ride their rented bikes any which way down a one-way street and don’t look where they are going. I almost nailed one a few days ago because they weren’t paying attention. Mexican cyclists have more respect for cars but the tourists think they have the right of way no matter which way they are going. Watch out if they have a rental car for the first time, they’re even more dangerous than the Mexican drivers.

Businesses covering the sidewalk. Now you can see why Rosalie knocks a few things over after a couple of margaritas.

We have heard of tourists saying that there are too many Mexicans on the beach even though this is a traditional Mexican seaside resort. A friend even heard of one lady say she has been coming here for several years and was surprised that the Mexicans still don’t speak English. And of course, the Quebecois try to teach them to speak French when they are trying to learn English.

Some tourists can sometimes be a pain in the butt, sometimes great, and appreciate the Mexicans and the fact that they are in paradise. Whoever they are wherever they come from, they are critical to the economy here and are welcomed. But of course, a lot of the tourists come here regularly and know the ropes.

We are very aware of these tourists as that describes us seventeen years ago when we first came. I remember walking into town in runners and long sports socks because I didn’t have sandals. The only Spanish I knew was “Dos cerveza por favor”

And it’s peaceful again when the last flights leave.

Our friend Hauna had her 50th birthday and we were invited along. It was a great evening and we met some more new friends. One even wanted to sign up for my blog. Hauna provided tacos and a jug of margaritas for each table.

We thought it would be a good idea to take a taxi into town and back then I could have a glass of wine or two and not worry about driving. I don’t like driving at night anyway as my windshield is still sappy and gives a lot of glare from other vehicles. Also, a lot of motorcyclists drive without lights.

Brent and Hauna have been together for eight years. They had quite the problem when Covid hit as Brent is Canadian and Hauna is from the United States. They didn’t get to see each other for long periods of time so had to meet in Melaque. Hauna is a flight attendant with Alaskan Airlines so can get good rates for both of them.

Hauna and Brent

Like last year we have once again been invaded by a rooster. I have no idea how he got into the yard but seemed not to want to leave. We suspect it was kids that threw him over the wall but who knows. I chased him around the yard a bit but he was way too fast for me. We decided to just wait and see if s0meone came to claim him. I was worried that he might start crowing at 4 am and then the rock-throwing would have started. I thought we had him cornered at one point but he took off flying like a pro so I guess the kid theory is now in doubt.

Eventually, Omar was recruited and we all managed to corral him and send him out through the main gate. The next day he had flown up onto the wall again and was mockingly crowing at me. I soon chased him off before he ended up in the yard again.

We had a problem with cats coming in and fighting on the patio and leaving hair on our loungers. The sound of cats fighting is a nasty way to wake up in the middle of the night. I did some Googling and found the best way to deter them was to use vinegar. I mixed a batch of vinegar and water and sprayed it at the foot of the gate where they get in. I also sprayed our chairs and loungers. So far it seems to be working.