Tag Archives: Laguna Bacalar

Bark Sniff Poo Repeat

28 Aug

The exercise, entertainment and care of Princesa Luna requires daily forays into the mosquitoey jungle. We clothe our bodies head to foot and douse in repellant, especially at dawn and dusk. I don’t think she appreciates us.

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The lane in front of our property.

This week I brought my camera along. Taking a picture with a dog dragging me along does not lend itself to the best shots.

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There are always flowers blooming. Watch the sharp points on the leaves. Ouch.

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Luna knows the way.

The path is surprisingly refreshing as the hot sun does not penetrate the jungle canopy.

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Why did the tarantula cross the road?

Luna is so curious about everything. This tarantula would not hang around to play.

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Lovely green wall.

There is an open property up the way where Luna and I run and play. I lust after cuttings of this cactus. I must return with my machete, gloves and NO dog.

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The jungle is also home to these amazing blue butterflies. They are the size of your palm and impossible to photograph.

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She doesn’t look one bit guilty. Maybe a little.

If it weren’t for Luna insisting that we go for a walk, several times a day, we would miss so many amazing things. We have seen fox, coatis, parrots and more. I guess life  in the jungle is a dog’s paradise. Ours’ too. DOS TORTAS

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Sailing The Laguna

21 Aug

Living in the southernmost part of Mexico does not lend itself to many visitors. The little village of Bacalar where we live is a five-hour bus ride south of Cancun, nestled along the coast of one of the most beautiful lakes in the world. Add to that the fear of Mexico that is actively promoted and it is no wonder why people choose to vacation in Costa Rica, the Bahamas or a cruise to anywhere.

This past week, our friend Karen who lives in Tulum, jumped on a bus to escape the deep jungle heat where monkeys fly through the trees, to hang out with Dos Tortas and enjoy lake breezes.

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As always, having a guest is a good excuse to do something we’ve been putting off for forever…like going for a sail with our neighbors Teresa and Paul.

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Climbing aboard the Gabriela.

It was the first time my MIL had ever sailed and she had a blast on our three-hour tour.

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Lisa and her mom

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Eco Lodge Kuunich Kaanil.

Kuunich Kaanil

 

It’s been on and off raining and threatening to rain. The weather cooperated to give us enough wind and not too much sun. A fabulous time was had by all.

DOS TORTAS 

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On Laguna Bacalar starts the sky.

 

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A Matter Of Perspective

14 Aug

A year ago we were up to our eyeballs in the construction of our house in Bacalar, Mexico, a small town near the southern border of Mexico and Belize. We had bought lakeside property in 2012 and then returned to our home in Austin, Texas to turn our lives upside down and retire to Mexico. Eight months later we kicked off the Adventures of Dos Tortas. And what an adventure it’s been!

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Our bright functional beautiful kitchen today.

 

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The floors were newly painted. Sept 16, 2015

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Building the center island. Lots of sanding. Aug. 24, 2015

Our followers can’t seem to get enough pictures of our house, so I thought I’d post some before, during and after photos. It gives us perspective on how far we’ve come. Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude.

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Counter on the east wall. This morning.

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One year ago.

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Pantry off the kitchen. During and after.

Here are a few more pictures. Some days we have to pinch ourselves.

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The mistress bathroom. 

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Guest Bath. Building a stub wall.

Pictures of the outside will be in a future post. Thanks for this little walk down memory lane. As you can see, we’ve come a long way baby. DOS TORTAS

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Preparing For Our First Hurricane

7 Aug

As The Tortas approach three years of retirement on Laguna Bacalar in Southern Mexico, our first hurricane was predicted to arrive Wednesday evening with up to 75 mph winds and twelve inches of rain. We live about thirty miles as the crow flies from the Caribbean, separated by water and mangroves and not much else. As with all hurricanes, much depends on their direction and intensity. We watched the sky and prepared for the worst.

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A Beautiful Day For A Hurricane

We hired workers to help us prepare. They cut dead branches, put away outdoor plants and furniture, tied up the kayaks and set sand bags in place. Our concern was for water barreling down the hill toward the house, if we got the foot of rain that was predicted.

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Machetes Were Flying Trimming Trees

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Plants Off The Roof and Kayaks Secure

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Reinforcing the Dock

As predicted the rain started late Wednesday afternoon. And then it stopped. We waited. Everything we could do was done, so it was time for the TORTAS first ever hurricane party!

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Dinner, Dominos and Drinks with Neighbors

During the night Earl turned south and took the brunt of its damage to Belize. Lisa slept through the wind which was hardly more than any tropical storm that blows through Bacalar. We had several heavy showers over the next few days, and that was all. Almost disappointing.

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The Islands Of Belize Were Not So Lucky

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Thursday morning with intense skies and waves.

While we are grateful for the lack of damage we received, we are much more aware of the amount of work it takes to be prepared. In the future, a generator, hurricane shutters and improved drainage could cut the time in half. Lesson learned.

DOS TORTAS

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Don’t Pour Gasoline

31 Jul

I try to keep my life chill. When a problem arises, too often the pull is to pour gasoline rather then step away from the ledge. I make problems bigger and scarier rather than talking them down. This week I had the ultimate test of my resolve…a car accident.

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Pulling out of our drive in Austin, Texas

The Tortas drive a large Ford F-150 truck that was perfect for hauling our possessions to Mexico but does not work well maneuvering in a small town like Bacalar.

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A busy mercado with limited parking.

During a quick stop at the mercado to pick up some veggies for dinner, I found a taxi double parked in front of my little fruteria and leaving me little room to maneuver. I squeezed through but did not leave enough room to pass the car parked on my right. I clipped the bumper and tore it off completely. My stomach began to flip flop and I was in a panic before I even got out of the truck. We all know what’s it’s like having a car accident, not fun at best and a complete life-altering disaster at worst.

A man and his wife and adult son emerged from an older sedan.  They circled the car, pointing out damage and shaking their heads. My fear was that they would call the police. It’s not that I’m afraid of the police, but the more people that get involved, the higher the price goes.

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Local police.

I didn’t know what to do. They began discussing mechanics. I was pouring gasoline.

When I asked what they wanted to settle things, the man meekly asked for two thousand pesos which I did not have and was an outrageous price. I pulled a 500 peso bill from my wallet and offered it as compensation ($30us). The woman looked me in the eye and said, “we’ll take it”. I handed her the money and we shook hands. When I came out of the store, they were gone. To put this in perspective, most laborers make about 250 pesos a day for hard manual labor.

It took me hours to get the adrenaline out of my system. How often do I create problems where there are none, but there “could be”? Valuable lessons were learned, among them, always deal with the woman. DOS TORTAS

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I’m Not A Hugger

22 May

I distinctly remember the first time I saw my oldest brother hug my father. We were not a demonstrative family and I bolted upright in surprise. There were few hugs or I love you’s after about ten years old. While the embrace shook my world, it was the 70’s and I chalked it up to the times.

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My youngest brother on the left, died of brain cancer in 2000. Oldest (of 4) on right.

Fast forward many years and I now live in Mexico, the land of huggers. It is not uncommon to be introduced to a stranger and have them embrace you and plant a kiss on your cheek. BTW, you are now family.

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Alice living the good life in Mexico.

Speaking of family, I have been adjusting to life with my mother-in-law Alice who moved to Bacalar in December. She has also been adjusting to life with me. Not only does hugging not come naturally, nor does “please, thank you or I’m sorry”. I was raised a Yankee and I can be bristley, a lot;  in other words, I’m a pain in the ass.

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Visiting Palenque.

I am also teachable. I’ve asked Lisa to point out a missed opportunity to be softer, gentler, kinder. That goes for all of you too my friends. A hug or a kick in the pants can sometimes be the same thing. DOS TORTAS

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Kayak Marathon

15 May

There are two annual sporting events in our little town of Bacalar Mexico. One is kayak and the other a swim “marathon”.  

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That’s me on the left and my doubles partner Teresa on the right.

My neighbor Teresa and I practiced and completed the 5K (3.2 mile) kayak event in a lovely double borrowed from the event organizer.

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Wish it were mine!

The day was overcast and very windy. The best part of participating was finishing.

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Finish in 45 minutes.

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Turn around.

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Coconuts for rehydration. Machete provided.

The lesson learned from this experience is that I will never complete the 30K distance. Some goals are just out of reach. We did however have a great time training. Having fun can be its own reward. The best one actually. DOS TORTAS

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Rocks In My Head

8 May

When I was a kid, I grew up living on a trout stream in New Jersey called Spruce Run. It was shallow and ambled throughout Central Western Hunterdon County. My siblings and I spent many hours building dams. Hot vacation days involved stacking rocks to raise the water higher than our knees so that we could swim in the summer and ice skate in the winter.

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A painting of our 200 year old farm house in NJ. An anniversary gift for my parents made by a family friend.

When my mother died, I took her ashes to New Jersey to sprinkle in the stream behind where our house used to be. She loved it there. I hadn’t been home in years since the house was destroyed by fire.

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Rest in peace Mom.

Lisa and I currently live on the shore of beautiful Laguna Bacalar in Southern Mexico. Some days I have to pinch myself that we’re living the life we created.  To walk into the Laguna to launch the kayak or swim means a painful stumble over a rocky bottom.

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This week Luna (our dog) and I were playing in the water and I mindlessly began moving rocks to try and create a pebble beach that would be easier on the feet and paws. I was immediately flooded with childhood memories. Sitting in the water moving rocks. Life doesn’t get any sweeter.

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My dad’s favorite picture of my mom. She was twenty-something.

Happy Mother’s Day all. DOS TORTAS

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Some Things Just Don’t Translate

10 Apr

When I went to school in the 1970’s in Cholula MX, I lived with a rather poor family who rented rooms to students. One day I came home for lunch and to my dismay, found the teething toddler gnawing happily on a boiled chicken foot.

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If you go to the mercado to purchase a whole chicken, the bag usually includes the feet and sometimes the head. While that is a significant ewww for me, the dogs have no problem with it.

There are two words in Spanish for feet. Pie (pee ay) is for human feet and pata (pah tah) means animal feet or the feet of a chair. Once my friends George and Sandy went all over the market asking for “pie de pollo (chicken). People thought they were a bit loco.

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There is a new restaurant in Bacalar that we’ve been dying to try, Pata de Perro, Foot of the Dog. They opened a lovely second story patio overlooking the town square. I had hoped to try their food before writing the blog, but that didn’t happen. Reports are promising.

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I do my best to eat a plant-based diet, but chicken is the primary food in this neck of the woods. Most people raise and slaughter their own chickens and occasional pigs as well. They have to be healthier running around the yard than the poor caged creatures eaten in the states.

We eat mostly at home since the availability of vegetables in restaurants is not much different in Mexico than in the U.S. It is fun trying new restaurants. I will feature them from time to time. Have a great week. DOS TORTAS

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A Funeral For Myself

27 Mar

I learned how to knit at age six or seven. My mother learned from her mother and on up the line of Irish women who’s lives depended, in one way or another on mastering the skill.

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I Love Making Baby Socks

Over the years I have perfected my skills, spent hours making socks, scarves, hats and more hats. Knitting needles have been an extension of my hands and a serious part of my identity.

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Baby Hunter Wearing One of Grandma’s Hats

When packing my “stash” to accompany me to Mexico, I couldn’t image finding the soft wools and alpaca yarns that I cherished. As it was, I gave away bags and bags of yarn at the garage sales that were our weekend activities as we prepared for our move to Bacalar.

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A Fraction of My Yarn Collection

It has taken us two and a half years to build and inhabit our house in the tropical climate along the shore of Laguna Bacalar. During that time, my boxes of yarn and needles have been tucked away in storage only to be opened this week.

As I fondly handled my soft, delicate yarns and needles, I burst into tears. I am no longer THAT person. I do not need to de-stress with the meditative clicking of needles after a long day at a boring government job. My attire no longer includes a differently knotted scarf every day worn in an air conditioned office. I can barely stand to wear a scarf in this climate, even on the coolest day.

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Our Front Entrance in Bacalar MX

I was not prepared for how this whole experience, retiring, moving and now living in Mexico would change me. I’m not saying that I’ll never knit again. That would be silly.

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Hibiscus Blooming in the Yard, After a Brief Shower

How do you define yourself? What if you lost a particular interest or capacity? Giving up my identity as a knitter came as an unexpected shock. I wonder what other surprises life has for me. The tears lasted a few minutes and the funeral took place in my head. I am so grateful for my life. Here’s to the new me that is changing every day. DOS TORTAS

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