Tag Archives: expat living in Mexico

Dreaming Of Pickleball

17 Nov

I found myself lying awake at two a.m. last night. The room was bright due to the full moon shimmering on the Laguna outside the window. The silence was palpable except for an occasional snort from our little pug. I love the quiet of night here in the Mexican jungle. Drifting in and out of sleep, I began visualizing myself healed, walking, swimming, squats and leg presses. I was seeing complete recovery from this broken leg that has kept me immobile for the last two months.

Visualization can be a powerful tool.

Last summer on our cruise to Alaska, I noticed a pickleball beginners’ class being offered on the upper deck of the ship. If you’ve been living under a rock for the past few years you might not be familiar with this cross between tennis and badminton, played on a smallish court with a large paddle. It is very popular with the grey goat population.

I’d been wanting to give it a try, seeing myself with some level of skill. Boy was I wrong! My cruise partner had brought his own paddle! Who does that? I’m not sure what the problem was but I couldn’t connect with the ball to save my life. I zigged and zagged trying to keep my eye on the darn ball. Back in the day, I used to play a decent game of tennis. That day is long gone.

Pickleball rules are very different from tennis.

My two a.m. visualization included playing pickleball. My feeble cruise attempt was fun in spite of making a fool of myself. I hear there’s a court in Bacalar. While I’m at it, I think I’ll visualize playing pickleball well. Ha ha. Might as well ask for what I want.

DOS TORTAS

Open link to watch.

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Telenovela Part Dos

20 Oct

I left the hospital the end of September after a 24 hour stay. I went home with a bag full of inhalers, breathing treatments and pills galore. We had taken rapid Covid tests with us on the cruise and all three of us, my wife and I and my MIL tested negative multiple times. I wore my mask at all times because my sister had come down with Covid on her Alaskan cruise a couple of years ago. Little did I know that I had already acquired it. My symptom was a persistent dry cough which could be heard echoing among other passengers as well, up and down the ship’s hallways. Who knew?

A small 14 bed private hospital.

In the hospital in Mexico, doctors performed an antigen test which showed that I had indeed had Covid. The inflammation had settled in my lungs which caused an asthmatic crisis. I went home after 24 hours with a prescription for R & R.

On the evening of September 14, only a week out of the hospital, I was playing with Luna and tripped over my own feet. I went down hard on the concrete floor. Lisa says she heard the crack. I never felt such pain nor screamed so loud in my life. Poor Lisa was freaked out. We both were at a loss as to what to do and I was in no position to make a decision.

Living in the jungles of Mexico one does not just dial 911. No one speaks English and explaining your location and situation takes skills. So Lisa called David.

David built our house in 2015 and is like a son. He has a Mexican wife and has lived here many years. His Spanish is top notch. He dropped everything to arrive at our house in 30 minutes, a new world record.

The rest is blah, blah, blah, emergency room, X-rays, tests and more tests. On the 30th anniversary of the day we met, I had surgery to set my leg. Not the plans we had for our special day.

Staples have now been removed leaving a kick-ass scar.

Life continues. I am to be 6-8 weeks off my feet. I’ve gotten access to my electronic accounts through no small miracle. Thanks to everyone who has commented and contacted me. It means the world to me.

DOS TORTAS

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Chasing the Yellow Envelope

21 Apr

Returning from vacation requires hustling just to be in place, at least the place you were supposed to be in if you hadn’t left. This week was filled with getting the cars serviced, refilling the larder and chasing a yellow DHL shipping envelope all over Mexico.

We had submitted my MILs passport for renewal via DHL before taking off in February for the US and later Europe. The US Consulate in Guadalajara had already returned it once due to the wrong sized photos. But pictures were retaken and the passport and application were quickly off again. Fingers crossed.

When we returned home and looked to see why the passport hadn’t arrived, we found it was hung up in Cancun, four hours away? Solving the mystery was time consuming, a long and winding story requiring numerous phone calls, a trip to DHL (45 minutes away) and promises of a speedy delivery. There was also much waiting on hold and standing in line.

My photogenic MIL

When the promised arrival time came and went, we returned to the trusty web tracking site to find the package was marked DELIVERED. Another phone call discovered that the envelope had been left at the hotel across the street! Now addresses in Mexico are long and complicated, especially when you live in the jungle. DHL had been given very specific directions which they chose to ignore. They’d already delivered a package once using our exact same address!!!

Sigh, we have the passport. Breathe, relax.

DOS TORTAS

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Medical Care Mexico

13 Jan

In 2018 my mother-in-law fell coming down our stairs and broke her right wrist. This week she broke her left.

2018 fall required pins and surgery.

Alice lives near us and when she called this week in obvious distress, Lisa was at her door in less than a minute. As near as we can figure, she stood up quickly and blacked out. She hit her arm against the couch and dislocated her wrist and broke a bone.

Alice’s little house on our property.

The hospital is about a forty minute drive. We called our doctor Oscar to give him a heads up and Lisa and Alice left for the emergency room about nine pm. The amazing thing is that they were home and Alice was in her bed by two o’clock! Yes, you heard me right, five hours including the drive.

Oscar notified the emergency room staff and they were waiting. A team wheeled her into x-ray, they then knocked her out, and set the bone. She has a cast and an appointment to return. The nurses, technicians and traumatologist were loving, gentle and efficient. My friend in Texas pays steeply for “concierge” medicine. Here in Mexico it’s business as usual.

Bet you wish he were your doctor? Smart and gorgeous.

Let me make one thing clear, our doctor and care is at a private hospital. Lisa, Alice and I have excellent health insurance in the states that we rarely use. We pay totally out of pocket in Mexico. The bill you ask?

About $1200 US, which includes medication and follow up visits.

A bit drugged but behaving herself.

We feel very blessed. Now if we can just get all three of us well at the same time.

DOS TORTAS

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A Simple Life In The Tropics? Mmmm

6 Jan

It’s been relatively quiet in the jungles of southern Mexico this week. Lisa and her mom were both sick, cough, sore throat and other symptoms I won’t share. I don’t know if it’s my genes or what, but I seldom get sick. On the whole we do pretty well. We try to take turns with our maladies.

Alice , me and Lisa Costa Rica 2019

While walking the dogs one day this week I discovered an enormous pile of garbage dumped on the highway near the turnoff to our property. I learned that a double tractor trailer flipped in the early morning hours leaving its load behind. What an eyesore! I will talk to our neighbors and see what if anything can be done. The pile is mostly bottles and concrete. Mexico is large enough to hide its trash. How inconsiderate to leave it out in the open! Perhaps they can incorporate it into the Mayan Train somehow.

The sign in the corner belongs to the new hotel across from us. I can’t imagine they’ll allow this mess to stay here.

Next there was water leaking on the floor of our garage. Finding a reliable plumber has been a challenge. The Mayan Train and resulting hotel construction has sucked up skilled laborers. I spent days getting no responses or asking “do you know anyone else?” I’ve found that who you know and who THEY know can sometimes get you the help you need.

Pump from our rain collection system was hauled off for maintenance.

We continue to learn things about living in a tropical environment, even after ten years. For example, any system that we have installed must have regular maintenance duh!, ie electrical, septic, cistern, and basically anything with a pump. Water is hard and calcium clogs the lines. Everything rusts and molds. We plan on installing a water softening system this year which will also require maintenance. Solar is somewhere down the road.

Our house is not airtight. No air conditioning. We wake to birdsong and the rustling of palm trees and the laguna lapping the shore. It’s a trade off but we love our “glamping” lifestyle.

I suppose that’s it for another week in the jungle. Y’all come back now ya hear.

DOS TORTAS

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Going Batty In Bacalar

5 Nov

Austin, Texas USA is the home of the largest urban bat colony in the world. I’m not sure how anyone knows. Maybe the count wings and divide by two?

I have witnessed this phenomenon many times and it is truly spectacular.

When I lived in Austin in the 1970’s the free-tailed bats that migrated from Mexico in the spring to have their babies, were thought to be pests. Then someone said, “we could make money!” and they became a tourist attraction and the subject of festivals, swag and even a hockey team.

Yes, there’s a hockey team in Austin, Texas.

Bats eat three times their weight a night in mosquitoes and agricultural pests. They are also great pollinators and an essential part of the ecosystem. My dad loved bats and I was raised with a healthy respect. My mother on the other hand was over the top terrified of them .

Austin now loves all things batty.

While living in Austin we put up a bat house to invite occupancy. I never saw signs of any tenants. However, here in Bacalar, we have residents in the palapa directly outside our front door. You’d think I’d be thrilled. Mmmm not so much.

Evidence of our uninvited guests.

The bats forage at night and sleep all day. They also poop down the side of our house and on the pathway below. I tried some clever discouragement but they laughed in my face.

Wind chimes and things glittery. No deterrent.
Out little upside down tenant.

I don’t want them to leave, just live somewhere else. They seem quite intent on staying however and I think we’re going to have to make peace with it. Kind of like the rest of life don’t you think?

DOS TORTAS

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Just A Quiet Week

28 Oct

The weather has cooled off in the jungle of southern Mexico. The nights are pleasant with no need for air conditioning. We even had some rain which was sorely needed. It is the beginning of the time of year that we anticipate all summer. It reminds us why we live here in a hot, humid jungle.

Our first visit to Bacalar was in December 2012. We stood in the laguna at 12:12pm on 12-12-12 and made the decision to buy the property, upend our lives and move to a small sleepy village on the most beautiful lake in the world, Laguna Bacalar. We were so naïve.

Pictures I took on our first visit in 2012

Not in a million years could we have foreseen the changes that have come to this part of Mexico. Every time I try to take pictures of the devastation wrought by the Mayan Train (Tren Maya) I get too upset. We took a ride on Friday out to where the Bacalar station is under construction. The train will pass on the far side of the highway a few miles from our house.

Home sweet home.

Imagine 76,300 square miles (197,600 square km) of pristine jungle dissected by enormous swaths of train ways. The cost of the project is at 15 billon dollars, seventy percent over budget. Many indigenous and environmental groups have sought to halt construction to no avail. The destruction of the fragile environment, native Mayan villages and archaeological treasures is a crime.

Financed by tourist dollars I have little hope that the train will bring a better life to Yucatecans. Surely there are better ways to improve healthcare and education and provide jobs. Locals that I have spoken with have mixed feelings. They like the job opportunities but fear for the environment. As a wealthy white woman I guess I have no say and no room to complain. As a world citizen I feel helpless to stop this disaster. That horse is out of the barn.

DOS TORTAS

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Trying To Scam The Wrong Person

15 Oct

Lisa drove this week to Cancun to pick up her aunt from the airport. As many folks do, she stopped at the large La Gas station exiting Tulum on her return to Bacalar. This particular gas station is always busy with long lines and many trucks. There isn’t another gas station for many kilometers.

Stock photo.

Lisa pulled the car in and when the tank was full, handed the attendant two 500 peso bills plus 100, about $56US. In Mexico one is not allowed to pump their own gas. I actually quite like not having to get out of the car. Her change would have been 80 pesos.

The attendant returned and claimed that Lisa only gave him one 500 peso bill. Hahaha he didn’t know it but he was trying to scam the WRONG person. Lisa immediately told him that she in fact gave him the correct amount. She called him a mentiroso liar and demanded loudly to speak with his boss.

I can only imagine the ruckus since I wasn’t along. Lisa’s Spanish pronunciation may have been a bit off, but her confidence was certain and I’m sure he knew exactly what she was saying. He quickly returned with her correct change and even had the temerity to ask for his propina tip.

It is customary to tip the attendant if they go all out, washing the windshield and checking the tire pressure. Lisa only laughed at his cajones and skeedadled.

Lisa and me in Teotihuacan 2017

I’m not saying that you won’t get scammed in your own country, but unfamiliar foreign currency and insufficient language skills can leave you vulnerable when traveling. Scammers beware however when hurricane Lisa comes to town haha.

DOS TORTAS

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While In Acapulco Let’s Buy Some Pot (5)

1 Mar

To catch up with this story, you might want to read parts 1-4.

When the van pulled into a parking lot with the beach and Pacific Ocean in front of us, we naturally exited to gaze at the water and stretch our legs after a long drive. My companions walked off and returned with a random guy they encountered who offered to help them buy marijuana. It’s amazing what you can communicate with almost no Spanish skills. I’ve watched enough cop shows to know how the woman gets mindlessly swept along when a crime is committed. It’s so easy to judge but that probably would have been me in 1973.

Stock photo Acapulco.

Following Random Guy’s directions we climbed back into the van and drove into the hills above Acapulco. The only thing there were shacks and poverty, no high rise hotels or ocean view.

No electricity, water or sewage. Acapulco’s dirty secret.

The first attempt to buy drugs was unsuccessful and we headed back out and up the highway we had originally arrived on. The road was lined with jungle and nothing else, or so it seemed. Random guy directed us to make a U-turn and park on the side of the highway. This time I was not staying behind, no way. Underneath the foliage was a path, invisible to passers by, including us.

We walked single file along the trail to a field and grass hut. Our “friend”translated and the three guys went inside the shack to dicker on a price for our purchase. I sat on a rickety bench and looked around and waited. I noticed at my feet what looked like small marijuana plants. OMG, reality set in. The field around us was ready to be planted and home to quite a large growing operation.

The guys reappeared having struck a deal to purchase a kilo of pot. They seemed pleased with themselves and eager to be out of there. We did not find out until later that the growers pulled a switcheroo as old as time. As soon as the two took their eyes off the prize, the sellers substituted the agreed upon purchase for a far inferior grass, mostly sticks and seeds. But in a hurry to be on our way, we didn’t discover it until many miles down the road.

We continued on our way towards our final destination, dropping our guide off on the side of the road. What I didn’t know at the time was that the upcoming week would be one of the most amazing and memorable of my life. Without AirBnB or GPS or anything more than my high school Spanish, we found people who welcomed us with open arms and fed three strangers who arrived out of nowhere on their “doorstep” for a week. I even have photos to prove it!

The VW van parked with Jerry playing guitar in its doorway.

DOS TORTAS

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Road Trip To Acapulco (4) 1973

23 Feb

After three weeks of studying Mexican culture at the University in Cholula, Mexico, two students and myself were ready to do some exploring on our own. The guys, one from California and the other from Connecticut had a VW van. In those days, Acapulco was the Cancun of today, made famous by movie stars and visited by the Prince of Wales. While drinking in a local bar and looking for a cheap destination, one of my companions was told to take the highway through Acapulco, turn left and travel to a roadside fruit stand and ask for Roberto.

Can you imagine heading out on a eight hour road trip with such flimsy directions? Well, without GPS or even a map, we did just that, and the funny thing is we found him! But I am getting ahead of myself.

The trip from Cholula to Acapulco today.

The van had been modified, with the passenger seats removed and a “bed” built in the back. We stored a case of beer underneath the bed and carried very little else. I remember being stretched out on the mattress passing the time when the van suddenly lurched to the side of the road. Unthinking and half asleep, I slid open the side door to see what was the issue, only to find a rifle pointed at my face. Guys in fatigues searched the vehicle and let us go. We either didn’t have what they were looking for or weren’t worth the effort. I don’t recall being particularly shaken by the experience. Such is youth and privilege. Today we might not have been so lucky.

This was the part of Acapulco that the tourists didn’t see. There was no electricity or running water.

After many hours of driving, we crested a hill and the ocean filled the horizon in front of us. I had never seen the Pacific before and was quite in awe of the lovely sight of crystal blue water. It was quite a contrast to the poverty we later found further north.

Women getting water from a pipe jutting out of the hillside.

My companions were hell bent on buying some marijuana to take with us on our vacation. I was not much of a pot smoker but mostly along for the ride so what the heck. Our search took us from a parking lot along the ocean to the slums overlooking Acapulco, and later to a field with tiny cannabis plants growing around my feet.

None of us had ever seen such poverty. The guys left me to watch the van while they tried to score some dope.

To find out how we got ripped off and eventually found our way to Roberto, check back next week for the continuing saga. I couldn’t have made this up, believe me.

While waiting in the van, this man stopped to ask if I wanted to buy marijuana. I snapped his picture as he walked away with his child in tow.

DOS TORTAS

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