Aged but not deceased

It’s getting close to the time when we have to pack up and leave. But first a bit of last-minute entertainment.

There is a great local band here called The Bandidos. They play in most of the restaurants and bars in town. They play all the old classic rock tunes and are very popular.

We drove with Neil and Diane out to La Palma Negra on Coco Beach for lunch and to see them play. We had seen them before but you can never get too much of a good thing. In fact, we will see them again in a day or two as we want to buy some of their T-shirts.

Unfortunately, running a blog is getting expensive so to cut costs I’m using YouTube. The good thing is that you can now play videos full screen and it’s a lot less work for me; also it’s free. The downside is that at the end you will see some ads. If you want to watch the video again just hit the replay button on the bottom left corner.

La Palma Negra is a beautiful venue, and even though it’s a twenty-minute drive it’s well worth it. It’s right next to the ocean and is quite rustic and traditional. Maria and Bernie have done an amazing job over the few years we have been going there. The food is good and served to us by their eldest son Pablo; a really nice boy who speaks perfect English

They are going to do a British Columbia tour in the summer. Mostly the mainland but some gigs on Vancouver Island. Including a stopover at Neil and Diane’s place as they entertain bands regularly at their home. They’re also playing at the VIEX where we will probably see them.

El Jardin

The garden is coming along nicely although a bit slow. I decided to jolly it up a bit with some ‘abono’, cow manure from Cowpachino’s. We also bought another lemon tree to replace the one we killed. As well as a Guyabono tree also known as a Soursop in English. Apparently, there are a lot of health benefits from its fruit. Each plant cost 50 pesos, about $3.50 Canadian.

The mangos are early this year and from what we can see, we may get to eat some before we leave.

Our biggest problem was getting the place watered while we are away. We were going to ask Martina to do it but it’s too far for her to come twice a week. I suggested to Rosalie that she talk to the lady who cleans next door as she may want a summer job. She agreed so now we have one less problem to care about.

A sad day

Our favourite hangout on the beach in the afternoon was Papa Gallo’s. Alas, they closed it for good suddenly. We understand that the landlord’s son is going to try reopening sometime. So there is some hope for next year. Fortunately, there are plenty of other places we can go, although we will miss our friends who used to work there.

While at a health seminar the other day we found out about a different dentist in town. They had a pamphlet with their prices on it and they looked more affordable than most so we decided to give them a try.

The next time we were in town we booked an appointment for the following day. Rosalie wanted to get a cleaning and I wanted to get a cleaning as well as some whitening done.

The appointment was for 11 am and we arrived on time. Our dentist was a very nice young man named Eric and he was learning to speak English.

Rosalie went first as her appointment was only supposed to take fifteen minutes, while mine would take an hour. After about twenty minutes the dentist came and got me to sit with Rosalie as she also had a broken tooth, that he was going to fix there and then.

Before the process started, he had to fill in a questionnaire about our health. After answering all the questions he asked us to sign but he didn’t know the word for signature so we taught him that.

It was lucky that Rosalie’s Spanish was way better than his English so she could translate for both of us. I tried to keep up but still have a problem with understanding spoken Spanish.

During the process, he asked Rosalie to shower her mouth. We explained the word rinse and then he asked what the English word for tongue was. We told him and spelt it for him. Of course, being a Spanish speaker he tried to pronounce it phonetically and it came out something like: “tong u ee”. We told him to think of it as ‘tung’ and he was good with that; although he still pronounced it toong as ‘u’ in Spanish is pronounced ‘oo’

Eventually, it became my turn. He did the cleaning and started to do the whitening process. By this time we had been there for three hours and hadn’t eaten yet. We all decided to take a break and start again in one hour.

At 3:00, we showed up again at his office and the process eventually began. He said it would take about forty minutes but being Mexico it took just over an hour.

Because I’m able to speak a bit of Spanish even though I don’t hear it too well I decided to enter the conversation. I thought up a sentence asking the dentist if he remembered the three words we had taught him. He looked at me with a puzzled look on his face so I turned to Rosalie who did the same. I had screwed up horribly. Rosalie asked the question and he got two out of three while I got zero. I redemed myself the next day when I had to phone and cancel another appointment for the whitening, and managed the whole thing in Spanish.

In total, including lunch, the whole thing took about five and a half hours. We didn’t mind though as we liked the guy and he was very entertaining. We will see him again.

There is a wee boy who comes by almost every day, his name is Pipo and yells “hola” as he passes. Rosalie gave him a coconut and also a bag of assorted goodies that we didn’t need. Now he often comes by yelling”amiga, amiga.” and presents Rosalie with a hibiscus flower. He a nice little kid and once when I was opening the gates to let the car out, he helped me so I gave him five pesos.

The next day he saw me in the garden and put his hand through the gate for another donation; I’m not going there as you never know where it will end. Next. he’ll be coming by with a weapon and making demands. Later, he’ll be by with a bunch of friends and before you know it he’ll be running his own cartel at the age of six.

The area we live in is very rustic and the streets are dusty. I’ve got into the habit of spraying down the car every second day when I water the garden. It seems to help as I don’t have to wash it so much. We clean the dust off the dashboard and within a few days we have to do it again.

We’re about a ten-minute walk to the beach but mostly prefer to go into town to Papa Gallo’s, about a fifteen-minute walk, for our afternoon drinks. We have been threatening to walk the new Malecón for the past three years but somehow never seem to get around to it.

It’s madness week here as St. Patrick’s day is coming up. Each morning we are woken early by cohetes exploding with a loud bang. They are rockets sent up by the local church to call everyone to mass. Some people, including the locals, are trying to get it either stopped or at least toned down as it not only frightens some people but it’s disturbing to all the dogs and especially autistic people. Someone localy is trying to get up a partition to get it stopped. I don’t think it will work though as this tradition has been going on for hundreds of years.

Also during the ten days leading up to St Patrick’s day, there are fireworks in the main square culminating in a huge display on the actual day. But more of that in a later blog. We haven’t attended for several years but are going to go this year.

I went fishing with Art and caught the biggest, for me, fish this year.

Update

We finally walked the Malecón. I wonder why they spent so much money on such an impractical thing when the streets need paving as well as all the other infrastructure upgrades that need doing. They must have used hundreds of tonnes of concrete. It’s beautiful, but maybe there are more important things.

I usually get up before Rosalie in the morning and go up onto the roof patio with a pot of tea. Once a month I get to see the full moon set just as the sun comes up. Beautiful! If I see a cloud I run around like Chicken Little yelling ” It’s gonna rain! It’s gonna rain!” But it never does.

Once Rosalie rises, we sit in our loungers catching up on the news and listening to the birds sing. There is a huge variety here, the names of which I mostly haven’t a clue. The common sparrows like to run around the patio picking up crumbs that we messy humans dropped the night before. I don’t mind as it saves us from having to sweep.

There is a red-headed woodpecker I often see in the mornings. I think it’s a bit thick though as it likes to peck at the re-bar on the top of the wall. Perhaps it’s sharpening its beak. Constantly throughout the day, we can hear the coo of doves and that always makes Rosalie happy.

Also throughout the day, (and night) we hear the stupid roosters crowing and see the chickens walking the streets. I almost ran over a herd of chicks the other day. I have to mention the stupid chickens as they are birds after all. Although I think they’re just here to annoy us.

Resta Rita on the lagoon is one of our favourite places to eat and we go there often. While waiting for the meal you can hear a grunting sound and wonder where the pigs are. However, it’s just the birds in the trees. I wondered what they were, so googled them and found out they are the Greater Crested Cormorant. If you listen carefully you can hear them grunt.

They often poop into the lagoon and I have seen people get really excited because they see the splash and think it’s a cocodrilo.

There are a lot of birds on the lagoon. besides the Cormorants, we often see Egets, Doves and Grackles. I’m surprised that we don’t see one or two disappear as food for the crocs.

I find it strange that there are no seagulls here. We are right on the ocean but see no Gulls. We do see a lot of pelicans though.

We also often see hummingbirds as they like to get the nectar from our hibiscus plants.

One thing I don’t like: sometimes I leave the car outside the gate so the birds use it for bombing practice.

Of course, my favourite bird is Rosalie.

After the events of the day Rosalie and I relaxed with a few drinks. We were talking and getting a bit intimate when I asked her if she wanted to play. I could tell by the beads of perspiration on her forehead that she was into it. I didn’t want to be too forceful as I thought it might break the spell. I winked at her and eventually, she broke down and went and got the crib board.

I haven’t seen the huge spider that I did battle with in the laundry room a few months ago. It’s either dead or hiding and waiting for a good time to pounce. I think it may be the one I did battle with last year. It had the same malevolent look and a bit of a limp.

It’s starting to thin out a bit here now. We have taken several people to the airport and are noticing the streets are not quite as busy. I know most people will be gone by the end of this month.

We had our Mexican friends for dinner last night. Claudia, her husband David, David Jr and little Valentino. It was an interesting evening and we learned a lot more about the Mexican way of life. For instance, they all have a different name, a nickname as we would call it. So they were: Betty, Puli, El Chino, and Bali or Tino. Very confusing.

We ate at seven, which was late for us but early for them as they usually eat at about 8 or 9 pm. But we suffered through it and we all had a good time. I thanked Claudia for helping Rosalie with her Spanish and we both agreed that Rosalie is way better than she thinks she is.

David/Puli speaks no English and Claudia says that he is frustrated that he can’t converse with me. I feel the same and am going to make more of an effort to upgrade my Spanish before next year. We did converse a little bit though and between Claudia and Rosalie, we had a good conversation.

David/Puli and Valantino

The following day we met two of Rosalie’s sisters at ‘Cowpuchino’ where we filled our cups with powdered coffee, chocolate, vanilla, sugar, grain alcohol and a dash of cinnamon and then have them milk a cow into the cup. It’s delicious and a Mexican tradition that goes back a long way.

There were four ladies and me. Some of the ladies couldn’t finish theirs so they gave it to Rosalie and me. By the time we left I was feeling the effects, and this was at eight o’clock in the morning. We took the car as we needed to get back for some guys who were going to take the coconuts down from our tree. They didn’t show up so I guess we’ll have to try another way.

Rosalie, (two fisting) Susanne and Dedee

For us, it’s winding down time. Tourists and the family are starting to leave and we are starting to look forward to being back in Canada. We have another month to go so we will make the most of the rest of our stay. You know, like Papa Gallo’s this afternoon. Boy, I’m gonna miss that place. But I still have the ‘Wood’ at home on Thursdays.

The lady who does Rosalie’s pedicures, manicures and haircuts is named Claudia. Over the years she and her family have become friends. Her husband’s name is David and so is their oldest son. We were honoured to be asked to the christening of their youngest son Valentino on his second birthday.

As much as I wanted to go, I don’t care too much for religious ceremonies and churches in general. I went even so. We wanted to support the family at an event important to them; as it turned out it wasn’t too bad.

While waiting outside the church we met an American couple Ken and Barb who were also attending. They too were not Catholic although they are still-practising Christians, so we suffered through it all with them.

Mostly it was boring as it was a Catholic service all in Spanish so we couldn’t keep up with most of what was going on. The priest, to my mind, wasn’t so much preaching, as lecturing and liked the sound of his own voice. One highlight of the service was when a dog wandered down one aisle, rounded the pews and wandered up the other side. I thought it was very funny and very Mexican. If he had cocked his leg I would have fallen off my seat laughing at the absurdity of it all.

David is pronounced Daveed and Valentino is pronounced Balentino.

They finally got to the Christening part. If you listened to the wailing and crying of all the kids you would think it was Torture-a-Tot week. There was a lot of holy water flying around and I was careful not to get splashed in case it burnt me.

After an hour and a half, it was all over and we followed the family back to their house for tacos.

They had acquired a space in what looked to me like a large garage under a house. Before the tacos were served we were treated to several Mexican appies, one of which was a plate of jicama and cucumber slices along with another of ground-up chicken served on tostadas. It was a bit on the spicy side but just right for my taste.

Next came the tacos. They had set up a taco counter with two ladies serving. I had a bit of everything on mine. As I ate it from one end, the contents were squirting out the other. I had seen this coming and had a second tortilla ready to catch the bits and so I got a second taco. Smart, or what!

Beer was offered so I took one just to be polite. As soon as that one was finished another appeared. Unfortunately, we had to leave early as we were meeting our family group for prime rib dinner. It wouldn’t have been a smart thing to stay as I saw them bringing in cases of beer. Anyway, Mexicans tend to party into the small hours.

Over all, it was a great experience. We are having the family over for dinner sometime this week.

We had been meaning to take A Day at the Ranch tour with Flip Flop Nomads for the last couple of years but because of covid we just couldn’t. This year, however, was different. Ten of Rosalie’s family were down here so we made a private day trip for all twelve of us.

The trip started at 8:am where we rode in a very comfortable twelve-seater van for forty-five minutes to La Huerta. Dan, our guide, wanted to buy us churros for a pre-breakfast treat but the guy wasn’t where he usually is, so we had to go without.

The next visit was to a handmade furniture store. The owner was very passionate about what he did and gave us a lot of information about his craft.

Then the bus took us to the ranch, owned by Dan’s Mexican in-laws. There was a traditional Mexican breakfast and then off to watch the cow milking; made even more interesting since one of the cows was being a bit uppity. The milk was later made into cheese as we watched.

Before taking a walk around the village, we had to help make our lunch for when we came back. They were making tamales and some of our group rolled up their sleeves to help out. After our walk we went back to the ranch for lunch.

After lunch, we mostly sat around talking and asking Dan questions. He is a font of knowledge about Mexico, its history and culture. He is originally from England, married to a Mexican woman; and has a couple of kids. He has been in Mexico for around 20 years and has his Mexican citizenship.

Every day we seemed to have someone to visit or meet at happy hour. On Thursday, Gordon and Giselle had to go home so we took them to the airport. As Gordon got out of the car he talked to another passenger and found out that their flight had been cancelled. They had received no emails from West Jet but later found out their flight would now be leaving the next morning at 11 am.

From what I could make out, the plane had arrived and because of weather conditions in Calgary, couldn’t fly back that day.

We all came back to our casa as they had to sort out new connecting flights to Terrace and change a hotel in Calgary. Fortunately, they still had a few days left on their hotel stay here, so there was no need to go looking for another hotel at this end. It did cost them an extra $1,000 though as they couldn’t cancel nor change their original connecting flight.

The next morning meant another drive to the airport and this time they got away okay. In the afternoon we took Barb and Dave to Coco beach for lunch and after that met Hauna for happy hour.

Today we’re taking the day off and all I plan to do is write this blog…and maybe, (if I can persuade Rosalie), go to Papa Gallos for a glass of wine.

The day after my post about entitled tourists and their being unable to be patient while waiting for their meals in restaurants, we had an experience of our own.

Eight of us decided to go to Cuastecomates for lunch and time on the beach. It took two trips for me to pick them up and get them all there. We arrived around 11:30. I had an appointment at the dentist at 1 pm to fix a chipped tooth so hung around for a while.

At 11:45 I thought I had better order lunch as I needed to leave in 45 minutes for my appointment. After I ordered, I waited, and by 12:30 my lunch wasn’t there so I had to leave and let Rosalie eat it as we were going to share. I got to the dentist a bit early, she fixed my tooth and I was out of there by 1:10. (Cost of 300 pesos about $21.)

I got back to the beach about ten minutes later and there was my lunch, still hot as it had just been delivered. It had taken an hour and a half to get it to us. They had obviously forgotten our order even though they had been reminded several times. The rest of our group who had ordered after me had been served and finished.

While eating lunch, I wanted to order a drink. After half an hour the waiter dropped by and I asked for a glass of white wine. They didn’t have any! I asked for red, and they only had a little drop of that left, so Rosalie let me help her drink her margarita.

After finishing our drinks, we paid the bill leaving only a small tip and headed for Papa Gallo’s for a much-needed glass of white wine to calm me down. I didn’t get mad at the meseros; I didn’t disrespect them; I just paid a smaller tip than usual so perhaps they got the message.

When we first got there the rest of the group was complaining, as tourists do, about the wait time and I was trying to calm them down and get them to remember that this is Mexico after all. By the time we left, I was furious, this was bad service even by Mexican standards.

Even so, it is all part of the Mexican experience.

As per my previous post, it’s apparent that I’m getting frustrated with the new group of tourists we are getting here. Of course, most of them are great people, enjoying being here and having a good time; but the rest….?

In Canada, we have a very diverse group of our own tourists, from Germany to China, Japan, Korea and many other countries. Does this mean that we now have to learn all those languages? No, we expect them to learn some English before coming here, so why don’t you tourists to Mexico, try to learn a little Spanish?

Back in the day, if you went on holiday to a non-English speaking country, you would get a phrase book and work it out. We did this on our first visits to Mexico. Now you expect the country you are visiting to know your language. Just how crazy is that?

When you get here, remember that you are a guest of this fantastic country. You’re not special because you can afford a holiday here. You’re no better than Mexicans; in fact, I would rather have a Mexican friend than some of you any day.

Because Mexicans don’t understand you, it doesn’t make them stupid. They are speaking their language in their country. Perhaps you shouldn’t come to a Spanish-speaking country unprepared.

While you feel so privileged, try to see how Mexicans see you. You walk down the middle of the street wearing a long sleeve shirt, sandals or running shoes with black socks and skinny white legs looking like uncooked sausages. You try not to say anything to anyone in case you end up looking silly. Trust me you started out looking silly. Mexicans however would not say a thing, as they are too polite.

You are easily seen on the beach because you are the ones with red sunburns looking bewildered because you’re not sure how to order a drink. When you do order you invariably get it wrong and blame it on the meseros and expect a free margarita.

You go into a restaurant and expect immediate service. If your meal or drinks aren’t served in the first five minutes you throw a hissy fit. Sometimes you leave, only to go to the next restaurant and find that this is indeed Mexico and time is a little different here. While you’re waiting you miss the fact that you are sitting in a beautiful location, chatting with friends, with the waves crashing and the breeze cooling your sunburn. No! you just have to have that drink right now, because you want service!

Why do you walk in the middle of the street? There are sidewalks. Are you afraid to walk on the sidewalk where they are selling tourist stuff; in case someone speaks to you and makes you feel inadequate when you aren’t able to respond?

If you don’t speak Spanish when you encounter a Mexican, at least acknowledge them. Just say Hi! and smile, they’ll appreciate it and you can be sure they will respond with Buen Día.

On the beach, it seems that it’s your god-given right to haggle with the beach vendors to get the best price you can. You probably save yourself 50 cents but take away an income from people whose minimum wage is about $15 CDN a day.

And stop being so loud! We don’t care if you own a thousand-acre ranch in Butt Crack, Alabama (the plumbing capital of the USA) or are a berry picker from Dildo, Newfoundland. They don’t want to hear how much you have or how great you think you are.

Let’s reverse roles for a moment. A Mexican family comes into your community and expects you to speak Spanish then complains about the noise and the service in the restaurants. They go to the local store and start to haggle over prices. How would you feel?

Of course, we were tourists here once and I suppose we still are. We made all the same mistakes. However, we do try to learn the language and we have never disrespected the Mexicans. Then, as now, we are always aware that we are guests in a foreign country.

A friend of ours wrote a comment on Facebook that stirred up some feelings. I read it and agree with everything she says. Following is her comment copied with her permission.

Down here in Mexico, we are doing great.

We’ve been walking with a bunch of friends up to the lookout over the ocean at 7 am to see the sunrise. A good uphill workout gets us warm on these chilly mornings and out into town (Melaque).

We apartment-sat for a friend who went out of town for a week, because I decided to check out what I was missing by living rurally and found, to both my delight and Dan’s relief, that I don’t like being in town.

That is mainly due to too many white folks, a lot of whom don’t seem to be at all polite to either our  Mexican hosts or each other,  seldom making eye contact or greeting people as they pass, which is the norm in this country.

I find I am lumped in with this rudeness and feel very sad at receiving dark looks from local Mexicans simply because of the colour of my skin and what I’m perceived to be; stingy with both money and friendliness. On the positive (?) side, I get to experience being prejudiced against due to my colour.

And I have to say it has changed dramatically here in the past 5-7 years with the huge influx of Canadian-American tourists. And no, there is little difference between the behaviours of the two nationalities.

So this is yet another example of the detrimental effects on local places that are attractive to tourists. All of the local resources are being taxed by entitled white folks who seem to think locals should know how to speak English or are here to take time out of their already overstretched work days to teach them how to speak Spanish, and who leisurely walk down the middle of busy streets, as if everyone is on holiday, making traffic slow or halt. Locals have a much longer wait to buy their daily groceries, hardware materials,  get $ from banks, etc., in long line-ups that didn’t exist before.

It is a truly shameful way for tourists to behave and this is on top of not bothering to inform themselves about local customs or to respect that we are guests in a completely different country.

And no, money cannot, does not, and never will make up for a lack of ethics, especially in this culture that values family and respect and surrounds that with a wonderful sense of perspective and above all, humour.

So I am glad we live in a small Mexican village apart from the brouhaha of the tourist crowds.  

I value highly my Mexican friendships, for their attendant generosity and humility which seem to be much more rare commodities in the northern latitudes. They make me want to be a better human, to attain the level they seem to intrinsically inhabit. And although our experiences here are somewhat different from casual tourists, I acknowledge that as a visiting Canadian who comes from a country with a hugely different economy and customs, I too am a part of the problem.

We see this every day and one thing Linda forgot is that the locals are now expected to learn French even though the French speakers also speak English.

Another example of tourist disregard for the locals is that on Valentine’s day and other holidays, restaurants were turning people away because tables had already been reserved only to have the people who reserved them, not show up. There are so many instances like this it’s disgusting.

More on this later when I cool off.