Whether or not you celebrate Easter, Passover or Solstice as a spiritual practice, it’s a good time to take a break. Semana Santa or Holy Week is a widely celebrated national holiday in Mexico. Everyone gets a week off work, banks and businesses are closed and Bacalar is a vacation destination for many. Surprisingly the past week has been relatively quiet in our neck of the jungle, much to the chagrin I’m sure, of the million and one new hotels that have been popping up in anticipation of the Mayan Train.
Rooftop Easter sunrise.
I thought I’d share some of my latest artwork. Procreate is a drawing application that allows me to play with color, line and form on my iPad mini. I am totally a novice and use very few of the features it offers.
Let’s DanceFind The Ice Cream ConeBacalar SunriseHacienda Best Friends
The remote places of Mexico were easier to find in 1973. Three students, of which I was one, traveled down a beach road to a time forgotten. We spent a week with a family who was eeking out a living on the Pacific coast south of Acapulco.
This odd “parking space” was for drying coconuts! Taken on my old film camera.
Probably the most memorable activity of the week was drinking cold rum and coke. There were glass bottles of coca cola stacked against the house. One day, the fishermen were taking a run into town for supplies and asked if we wanted anything. Thinking we would provide a little fun for everyone, one of my fellow students gave them some pesos for a bottle of rum. When the rum arrived, we discovered to our surprise that none of the guys wanted any.
We bought our coke from Maria and proceeded to pour ourselves a drink. It was then that one of the fishermen casually asked us the most amazing question … “Quieres hielo?”
Old cases of coke,
It doesn’t take much Spanish language skill to know that hielo means ice. ICE? With no electricity and no running water, how could he be asking us if we wanted ice? My brain imploded with confusion.
Then this fellow proceeded to walk over to a large pile of wood chips that I hadn’t even noticed. And there, buried deep underneath was a block of ice. He pulled out an pick and hacked us off enough to fill our glasses. Voila! Cold rum and cokes. Talk about having to pinch yourself!
Cuba libre
I sat with my companions and watched the sunset, feet in the Pacific, miles from anywhere drinking cold rum and coke. We later realized that the ice was used to keep the fish cold for its trip to market in Acapulco. Wood chips provide adequate insulation. Who knew.
The boss showed up to haul the week’s catch to Acapulco. He is weighing the fish.
We three students from California, Connecticut and myself from New Jersey would never be the same. I think this is the first time I really talked about the experience in detail. The three of us went our separate ways after our adventure and never hung out again. For me, having met people with so few possessions who appeared so happy changed me. I realize that I was only there a week. I don’t want to glorify poverty as I’m sure they had their own problems. In the repaired van we said our goodbyes to return to classes having to force money on them to cover our stay. And like the 1954 musical Brigadoon, the veil closed and we went back to our student lives. Forever changed.
DOS TORTAS
A Gene Kelly taps with men in kilts from the magical village of Brigadoon.
In 2000 my youngest brother died of brain cancer. Lisa and I flew from Austin to Philadelphia for the surgery that we hoped would give him more time. We were sitting in his hospital room saying our goodbyes when a request to meet with the doctor caused us to extend our stay. The trouble was, hotels were booked all over the city due to something or other and we had already checked out of ours.
Michael was sharing a hospital room with a crotchety old man named Charlie who had recently had back surgery. His wife Esther showed up every day on her bicycle with a mouth watering picnic basket because he refused to eat hospital food. Lisa, who loves old people had befriended him. She even assisted him onto the bedside commode.
As a result, when I inquired as to whether they had a spare bedroom that we could use for a few days, we were handed the keys to another one of those life-altering experiences.
We lugged our suitcases the dozen blocks from the hospital to their brownstone, hopefully following Esther’s directions correctly. On the outside of the house there was a plaque stating that the building had once been the original French Embassy dating back to the American Revolution. OMG, what had we gotten ourselves into?
We climbed the stairs and entered into what felt more like a museum than a home. We couldn’t have known that Charlie was a foremost collector of Americana. Walking from room to room we cried over and over, “look at this!”. I so wish that I had a camera, but this was a time before cell phones in every pocket. The house was dark to protect the art from sunlight. This five story structure, equipped with an original elevator, was out of this world, floor to ceiling.
We had unknowingly made friends with Charlie and Esther McManus. Charlie was from old money. Not only would he not eat hospital food, he only carried crisp new $100 bills that Esther went to the bank to pick up. We later traveled to Philadelphia several times to visit them.
Esther was Israelí and an award winning chef. She once made croissants on TV with Julia Child! There was a spread in the New York Times Food Section (How To Give A Dinner Party) framed on their kitchen wall. Once when we visited she hosted a dinner party in our honor. You haven’t lived until a world class chef recognized for her dinner parties has one just for you. It was exquisite.
The complete video is on YouTube.
One time we went to lunch with Charlie (Esther worked and he had a little bistro nearby where he walked daily.) During a conversation he said something about PLUs or people like us. Lisa and I just looked at each other. WE were NOT people like Charlie and Esther but it did us no good to protest.
Queen of Le Bus culinary college, Philadelphia.
With Charlie’s health failing, they began to liquidate the art collection. Lisa took time from her construction company to fly to Philadelphia to help out. One day a representative from Sotheby’s Auction House made a dismissive comment to Lisa who was up on a ladder working to remove a chandelier. Charlie overheard and came up out of his chair to her defense. “Do you know who you’re talking to?! That’s my daughter.” The man’s eyes got big as Charlie proceeded to evict him from the premises.” Many apologies later, all was smoothed over. But Charlie left it completely up to Lisa if the man stayed or went.
Needless to say we were way out of our league here. We lost touch and found Charlie’s obituary years later. It is amazing how four people who unknowingly met in a hospital room could become friends and touch each other so deeply. I will return to the story of Acapulco next week. But for now I hope you enjoyed my little sidestep.
I’m so grateful that I got the X-ray and pain meds from my doctor. I guess two weeks with the inability to cough, laugh, sneeze, and turn over in bed, not to mention the screaming in pain, finally overcame my stubbornness. I suppose that the management of pain never crossed my mind as “something that can be done”.
Sometimes I’m just plain stupid.
It’s amazing how we use our upper body and arms for so many things, like standing from a seated position. I found myself scooting forward and using my legs to stand. All those squats came in handy. Do try it.
A full moon week.
There will be no bicep curls, bench presses or push ups for awhile. I can’t even carry a pitcher of water from the refrigerator to the counter. I am feeling better and this week we’ll begin cutting back on the meds. I hope it will clear my fuzzy brain a bit,
Sunday sunrise on Lake Bacalar.
Google says six to eight weeks. Today is three. I must admit to looking longingly at my gym clothes while selecting pajamas and sweatpants for daily attire. Sigh.
A little vid of our home and property.
I will continue to rest and stay drugged as needed. I am supremely grateful to my wife for taking such good care of me, and Dr. Oscar for the pain management. Life is good. So for another week, be well and don’t trip over any air mattresses.
As a child in the 60’s I remember reading the book 1984 by George Orwell. The year seemed far far away and I wondered what the future would hold. I certainly never imagined the year 2023!
Big brother is watching.
2022 was filled with getting physically and mentally fit. I consistently worked out at the gym three days a week and added a rebounder to my off days along with my usual swimming. Having a beautiful lake out my back door made it easy.
Laguna BacalarMany many health benefits to rebounding.
In retrospect I realize that my life is about keeping the hot breath of aging off my neck. I was doing pretty well, or so I thought and then two weeks ago I fell…again.
I tripped over the air mattress that was prepared for the guest we had coming. A perfect storm of being in a hurry, a dimly lit room and forgetting it was there sent me flying and landing on my chest on a concrete floor. The result was a fractured sternum.
I also have scoliosis..sigh.
Yes it was an accident, but there have been too many to not factor in my age. My doctor’s comment to Lisa, “well she IS 70 years old” takes me aback. Not that I don’t know how old I am.
So the next month will bring rest and healing. In February I go to Merida to paint haciendas, landscapes and local scenery. I will continue to keep my fragile bones as strong as I can. Let’s face it, none of us gets out of this alive. My blog seems to have gone from the adventures of travel to the adventures of aging, the good and the not so good.
December 12 is the feast of the Virgin of Guadalupe. She is such an important Mexican icon, that she gets a bank holiday. For me, she is the feminine expression of God. I was raised Catholic and walked away from that dogma in high school. Somehow I have found a way back.
2018 with Lisa and FridaThis work of art has a predominant place in our house and in our hearts.
As I have aged, I have found my way to a less intellectual God and more to a heartfelt appreciation for creation. Guadalupe is my sister, friend and mother. Her presence adorns my house in every room.
A gift from my sister-in-law who died of Covid. We had this niche created for her when we built our house.
I am reminded of her holiday by the presence of the Guadalupanas (pilgrims) along the highway. They mostly ride bicycles adorned with her image and the red, white and green of the Mexican flag. They ride in clusters with matching shirts, often in sandals. Sometimes there is a support vehicle, sometimes not. I’m not sure of their destination, perhaps Tulum which is two hours by automobile.
Tulum
I wonder what the pilgrims’ stories are. Is their motivation a petition or gratitude for a prayer answered? The site of her original apparition is outside of Mexico City. We visited in 2017. Twenty million visit annually with nine million around December 12, her feast day.
Both the new basilica on the right and the older on the left. Mexico City in the background. Lisa and I are standing on the site of the original apparition.Grotto in front of our house.
DOS TORTAS
This week my dear Aunt Irene died. She was 100 and devout Catholic. Guadalupe surely welcomed her with open arms.
After two days of intense travel that turned out to be even more difficult than I imagined, we are finally in Florida, USA. If you look on a globe, you’ll see that Bacalar and the Florida Keys are the same latitude more or less. I’m looking at the same swaying coconut palms from our Key Largo balcony.
Raining
There were some sweet moments over the last two travel days, like visiting with this child on the bus who was intensely studying my art journal. I love kids and am so happy that I have enough Spanish language skill to be able to talk to them.
She intently studied every sketch, turning the pages slowly.Travel Art JournalAdiós Mexico
Sunrise in our hotel room in Puerto Morelos, outside of Cancun.
Also the delightful couple who are minding our dogs while we are gone. Ben from Ireland and Katrin from Austria.
We will be enjoying my siblings and assorted nieces and nephews and a grand holiday meal. I’m sure all the crazy travel expenses and headaches will fade into the distance. Not!
Some people have a knack for languages. Research shows that the earlier you start, the easier it is to learn. Rolling your r’s and softening your d’s is just some of the oral gymnastics required to speak Spanish.
We drove out of Texas on September 1, 2013. Lisa’s first foray into learning Spanish was translating highway signs. Many were self explanatory. Others not so much.
Si toma no maneja – If you drink don’t drive
No deje piedras sobre el pavamiento – Don’t leave rocks on the highway (sometimes a form of civil protest)
Más vale tarde que nunca – Better Late Than Never
Works for us and it’s free!
After nine years of using the application Duolingo, Lisa can hold her own in most conversations. I joke that I can’t talk about her behind her back any more because she understands almost everything. Her main skill is not being afraid of sounding foolish. I remember overhearing her tell a friend’s Mexican parents to “talk to me like a two year old “. She is not afraid of making mistakes. Locals really appreciate her effort.
Lisa at the pyramids of Teotihuacan 2017.
For me, I lived in Mexico and learned Spanish in my twenties. In the beginning of our time in Mexico, I was doing all the translating. Today Lisa thinks nothing of heading to the hardware store, pharmacy or market by herself. I’m still in charge of phone calls, government documents and doctor’s appointments, although I sometimes need help with technical language. God bless Google Translate.
Living with a Mexican family in 1974.
Living in the country who’s language you are trying to learn helps, but so does determination and perseverance. It is said that learning a second, or third language helps keep your brain sharp and “young”. I guess for us, we’re getting younger every day.
This week I was working in the kitchen and listening to 90’s Country Music. I was dancing around by myself, two stepping, spinning. Slow slow quick quick. So many of the songs brought to mind individual friends, Harper, Jean, Cori, Denise, Cindy, Trish, Betty. We danced two or three nights a week, two stepping, waltz, and line dancing. It’s where I met my wife.
That’s me, second from the left.
I came out in 1990’s in Austin, Texas. The country bar was the place to see and be seen. I quickly figured out taking dance lessons and learning to lead got the attention and the girls. I’d always been a dancer so it wasn’t that difficult. So many memories.
We had so much fun. Happy Halloween
I remember being much younger and having a neighbor in the duplex next door who listened to 60s music all day. I rolled my eyes. Ah the judgements of youth. While I don’t listen to Garth, Travis, Willie, George, Dolly or Shania all day, for an hour this week I was transported to a simpler time. Good times for this old gal.
You’ve probably read about “Blue Zones”. They are areas of the planet where people live longer, healthier and happier. Studies have identified commonalities that we all can incorporate into life to improve health and longevity.
The one important area of the circle that has eluded us has been having a community of friends and family that we socialize with and depend on. When we first explored moving to Bacalar, we found what appeared to be a vibrant social community. There were parties and the potential for numerous friendships, or so we thought. In the nine years we have lived here, much has changed. People moved on, Covid hit and we have grown more and more isolated in our beautiful jungle home.
The view from our porch.
This week the proverbial shit hit the fan. Lisa’s mom has not been doing well since her bout with Covid. There have been multiple doctor visits as we attempted to figure out and give her some relief from symptoms that have put a halt her day to day activities.
Last photo before Covid.
Also this week, Lisa and I both broke out in some jungle crud rash that is itchy, and causing small, burning blisters. I will not post any pictures.
I had a molar pulled due to a broken root. Hopefully I am a candidate for an implant down the road. Again, no pictures.
On top of all of this and more that I won’t go into, the car broke down. Weird smells and even weirder noises is enough to stress us out big time which I’m sure is a no-no for Blue Zone living.
When I woke today my game plan was clear, ask for help. As a USer, lesbian and overall pain in the ass, my modus operandi is, figure it out, do it myself, “I’ve got this”. Well, not today folks.
David, the general contractor who built our house took Alice to her doctor appointment and provided translation ❤️
I had made a friend at the gym who mentioned that he had an auto mechanic. We have found it so important to know people who know people. I called Rod and his mechanic is at our house right now working on the car. We have been loosing sleep over all this drama, which is never a good thing.
A burned out alternator is not in our wheelhouseMy hunky gym rat. Thank you Rod for sending your mechanic.
I’m not sure what’s with us and hunky guys but we are so grateful for the help. The car is fixed and Alice has an inner ear infection which is highly treatable. Breathe, relax. I guess you never know where your people will come from. Relationships of all sorts are worth nurturing and sometimes you do that by being vulnerable and asking for help. Friends can always say no, but sometimes they surprise you.
the adventures of dos tortas 
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