Tuesday, April 15, 2014

It was the best of times, It was the worst of times....

The Best of Times

As of today, April 14th, we have lived in Mexico for two years.  At times it feels like we just got here and, at other times, it feels like a decade has passed since we left Wellesley and hit the road.  When we left we were looking for a better climate, a slower pace, a more cost-effective place to live and an adventure. Everything panned out as planned...except for the slower pace.  We're really glad that we've been able to share our experiences with so many of you through the blog and we genuinely enjoy doing it.  So, let's get on with it.

Since last we blogged events have continued to rapidly unfold in a mind boggling mix of delight and sorrow.  Let's do the happy stuff first.

La Fiesta de Lodo (Mud Fest)

Last year at this time, we attended a parade and wanted to go from there to Mud Fest held on the same day.  We were thwarted when we discovered that every male between the ages of 15 and 45 also wanted to attend and had, in fact, arrived before us.  We vowed that we would rise at the break of dawn this year to gain entry.  And we did.  And it was worth it.  First, let us remind you that we are now at the apex of  "the dry season".  This can also be termed the "everything you see, own, or are, is covered in dust".  Simultaneously, the Lake has receded due to lack of rain so there is about a 200 yard expanse of mud out from the shoreline.

And here, where dust meets mud is where the spectacle takes place.  Mud Fest features off the road vehicles running what is kind of a motor cross setup except that half of it is in the mud and lacks a formal track.  There are ATVs, motorcycles, jeeps and SUVs with snorkels and such.  There are vendors hawking "off the road wares" and many, many tents offering food and all forms of beverages alcoholic.  Ah, what a combination -- mud, dust, overpowered vehicles and lots of booze.  You can see where this is going.  In the U.S. there would be races and prizes and rules and enforcement of rules and all that stuff.  Not so in Mexico.  The only raison d'etre for this event is so that a lot of people can bring their grown up toys, wear some spiffy leather outfits, drink many Michelada's (had my first -- a combination of Clamato-ish juice and beer.  Not as bad as it sounds) and alternately drive their vehicles over jumps and get them mired hubcap deep in mud.  Well, the photos will show all.  Rules are non-existent.  Ten year olds captained ATVs transporting 8 year olds at high speed.  No helmets were in evidence despite the prominent "Helmets Required" signs.  While there was a race course of sorts, there was no starting line, finish line, timing of anything or winners.  Losers were the ones who couldn't get their vehicles out of the mud. Federales, totting guns the size of small cannons, roamed the grounds maintaining order, oogling young women and enjoying a Michelada or two.  All in all, an afternoon to remember.

The shores of Lake Chapala puts the "mud"  in Mud Fest.

How much mud can you get on your vehicle?

The truly prepared have snorkels for air intake and raised exhaust to keep from stalling out in deeper water.

Meanwhile some unfortunates ventured in too deep & stirred up a lot of mud in a vain attempt to free themselves.

This person with a new H3 must have listened to the advertising hype, but got stuck as well.

Meanwhile the Toyota truck continued to dig itself deeper into the mud...

while the H3 was towed out by another four wheeler.

Hipster Guad style.

The land course had a jump, enjoyed by many...(note lack of helmets)

with the motorcycles getting air on the jump....

Even the small guys. Probably 8 years old.

This photo says it all...notice the mud coated fellow on the left, the police strolling away in the background and the bevy of beauties on the stage in the right background.

Nothing like father & son bonding in the mud.

Some of the vehicles had add-ons, like this "Chuckie" doll.

No Mud Fest would be complete without the young women, who love to pose for the camera.

It was never clear what all of the women on the stage were there for, other than for oogling.

Taking your novia on your ATV through the mud seemed to be the order of the day.

Despite the lack of supervision, no accidents were witnessed as the vehicles sped by one another in the mud...

and the young boy waves to the crowd.

Another vehicle needing a tow to get out of the mud.

The spectators and participants varied from the young...

to those with gray hair.

And yet another victim who thought because he had four wheel drive he would not get stuck.

Others just ignored the stuck vehicle as they sped by in their ATV.

Even the young enjoyed riding through the water & mud in their ATV...(note lack of helmets.... such a MOM)

while yet another truck gets stuck...

and yet another truck. The lesson of the day is get an ATV if you don't want to get stuck.

This vehicle wins the prize for most colorful at Mud Fest. .. But there were no prizes.


Donde Esta The Easter Bunny?

I  have ranted about the Americanization of Halloween, the installation of Coca Claus in the Mexican hierarchy of commercialized holidays and even lamented St. Patrick's Day (what COULD that be about here?). Did I mention that the local casino's mascot is a Leprechaun?  Anyway... Semana Santa (Holy Week) is an amazing display of the deep faith and the practice of the faith in Mexico.  Last year we followed the entire Passion Play (Ajijic # 3 in Mexico -- go team!) and just last night we went to the Plaza for the Fair which helps to support the cost of the production of the Passion Play.  It was an incredible night with the Plaza packed, eggs filled with confetti being smashed, food being eaten, drinks being drunk, a variety of things made of palm fronds being sold, and banners and pennants crackling in the wind.  So, for a week all of Mexico relives the final days and the death of Christ with increasing solemnity until the resurrection.  At this point, things tip in the other direction and the entire country goes into party mode for seven (or more) days.  There is a yin and yang feel to the whole thing.  So that's the real holiday.  And then there is the Easter Bunny.

Somehow, I just can't work up any antipathy towards the Bunny.  I know they've sold him down the river, but he is just so adorable.  And, in keeping with the almost weekly surprises the school next door presents us with, we awoke last Friday (last day of class for the two week Easter break) to see the soccer field dotted with cut out cardboard Easter Eggs and Bunnies stuck into the ground.  Like a million of them. Well, we knew it would be good, so we stuck around with Michael's camera at the ready.  We will let you determine if it is not cute beyond belief.  Why? #1 -  They are little and they all dress up.  Check out the kid who looks like a huggable rainbow flag gorilla.  Think he dreamt that up himself ? Excellent .  #2 - How hard is it to find eggs when the only place they can be is: A) behind a cardboard egg or B) behind a cardboard bunny.  And yet, they yelped with surprised delight each time they found one.  Getting in to the mood, we repurposed our gold Century Plant Christmas Tree to be an Easter Tree.  When our sons were growing up, the eggs and ornaments would go on pussy willows and forsythia with the hope that the forcing of blooms and an injection of color would allow us to soldier on until Spring took hold.  I SWEAR the tree will go away now.  No decorating for Fourth of July, Labor Day, Mexican Independence or Arbor Day.  I don't want to turn into one of those women who dress concrete geese on their lawns.  Honest.

Putting out the Easter eggs for the children to find later on.

It was a feeding frenzy of little costumed children searching for the Easter eggs...

while the adults supervised and took pictures.

There were fairies, ballerinas, bunnies...

all running around looking for eggs.

There was even a bee.

This costumed character and the fairy compete for eggs...

and it looks like someone is walking away with the lion's share.

Note the multi-colored character Deirdre termed a gorilla in the center of the photo.

The adults seemed to enjoy the hunt as much as the children.

The "Easter" tree.




And Now for Sorrow

Our blog can make it sound like Cocoon down here.  You know, the movie where they blast off to a planet where no one ages and all is wonderful.  Well, the wonderful part is true, but mortality still plagues us even here.  Last week we lost one of our best friends.  We knew Chris from almost the time we arrived and, over the two years since, he and his partner Jim became two of our closest pals. You've seen their names and photos many times in the blog.  He was young (52), he was vibrant and he was living life to its fullest.  Not fair.  We've discussed every facet of life down here from housing prices, to health care to .... everything.  What to say about dying here?  Well, it's never good-- but at least here it isn't very complicated.  In Mexico, everyone has to be buried or cremated in 48 hours.  Very few autopsies. Very little cost.  Michael and Manu (two unrelated people, one Mexican, one Gringo) managed to obtain the death certificate in under an hour (some money DID exchange hands). The funeral guys delivered the ashes to a Pemex station so Michael, Jim and Manu wouldn't have to battle Guad traffic. Jim found an English speaking priest who officiated at the Mass and didn't blink at the same sex marriage they had enjoyed, regrettably, for only 18 days. Room was found for Chris' ashes in the church's columbarium and the family name Campana-Flynn inscribed on the vault.  Not a very conservative country after all.

In memory of Christopher Campana.


One of the things we love here is that everybody (or ALMOST everybody) keeps living their life without slowing down.  At least to the level they can.  Yesterday, we celebrated the birthday of another good friend -- his 75th.  He and his wife are off to the States to visit family in a week and then on to Paris, a cruise down the Danube to Prague and who know what else.  Another 85 year old friend, Ramona, recently returned from hiking in the highlands of Guatemala.  You never know how long you've got, but I guess you just make the most of it.
Celebrating Allan & Barbara's birthdays.



So Now What? 

Well, we'll try to get one more blog out as Semana Santa rolls into the week of endless parties and car wrecks.  Then we'll be packing our bags to hit the road once more.  Currently, I cure my insomnia by trying to catalog what clothes I will take in the one bag allowed given that the clothes need to span a 50 degree temperature range and last 18 days.  It's like one of those "If Johnny's mom fried two eggs and the train was going 30MPH..." math problems. Usually after about 5 minutes of "no, the pink sweater is too bulky", "raincoat..need one", "don't forget the electrical adaptor",  I bore myself to such a degree that I tumble back into sleep.

Una Cosa Mas

I know my boosterism is annoying (see Ajijic #3 -- go team!) but validation is at hand.  Today CBS News announced (having ripped it off from internationalliving.com) that Lake Chapala is the #1 Retirement Destination for the budget minded.  I would actually love to see the list for THE  FILTHY RICH  -- probably next month.  Anyway, it's nice to be #1 even if it's only for the shrinking middle class.  Until later.....

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Huespeds, Hunger Games and Houses

The Hunger Games of Ajijic

The other morning while sipping coffee, reading the Times and watching the sun ascend over the Lake, I was startled by the din of bugles blaring, a clarion call to action.  Hmmmm.   I raced to the terrace to observe that the school next door had, overnight, been transformed into an impressive arena of athletic competition.  Hundreds of pennants waved in the breeze, ribboned and papered medallions of impressive size were suspended from walls and a giant banner declaring the advent of Terrasports (Terra Nova is the school name) danced before my incredulous eyes.  Glancing to the left, I noted many buses unloading scads of adolescents in varying uniforms who, with a discipline not found in NOB schools, silently formed symmetrical blocks of teenage energy waiting to be unleashed.  As the Mexican anthem played (and they ALL SANG) a flag the size of Rhode Island was hoisted and the call rang out to "Let the Games Begin" (in Spanish of course).  All that was missing was the flaming arrow arching through space......  For two solid days they played sports.  Futbol (soccer to many of us), basketball, volleyball.  Maybe more sports but we couldn't see them from our house.  Most were teenagers but the hosting school has little kids as well.  Some of them were very impressive.  We saw seven year olds that could go horizontal blocking a kick, hit the ground, spring up and be almost instantly ready to field a pass.  Nature or nurture?  Quien sabe.  Well, when it all ended, we'd hauled numerous soccer balls from our pool and were relieved that there were no corpses left on the playing field.  It appeared a good time was had by all.  It is never dull living next to the school.

The official TERRASPORT 2014 banner.

The children have patiently congregated, while Cruz Roja & the bomberos are on standby.

The Mexican flag proudly waves...

while the volleyball game goes on...

as does the futbol game.


Here Comes the House Tour......

I thought they were over for the season -- I really did.  And I screwed up the previous one by buying tickets and then thinking the tour was a day later than it was.  So when I finally tipped to the fact that there was another one, I ran to get tickets.  But I was too late.  So I threw myself somewhat theatrically at the feet of the person who was denying me a ticket and begged.  "Oh, OK, you can drive some people and go yourself if you're going to get all emo about it."  Yeah.  We're in.  So here we go.  I know you like these.  Mostly.  Except for a few guys.

House #1:  Villa Nova

Imagine our shock at discovering that the first house was the house of our neighbor two doors up.  This should not lead you to believe that our houses are in the least bit comparable.  We feel much the way Nick did as he gazed across the bay at Gatsby's house.  We sit on our terrace and gaze at it and wonder what it holds. Ha! Now we know.  Plus we got to meet our neighbor Bob who is rarely at this house except in the summer.  All very good.  This was my favorite house on the tour because it is one of those big places that still seems to feel cozy in some way and each room is on a scale that feels livable.  I mean there may be a million of them but they are livable and don't dwarf you.

The driveway entrance to the house, where one walks until finally...

you arrive at the main entrance to the house.

Going through the entryway you come upon this trompe l'oeil mural...

before arriving at the staircase (complete with decorative totem) which ascends to the main level.


A very cozy library.




One of the many fireplaces throughout the house.

One of the many bathrooms.








One view of the kitchen....
and another view of the kitchen....

and yet another view of the kitchen.

The dining room...

with a very beautiful, decorative hutch.

A view into the living room...

with a view of the beamed ceilings and the fireplace.

Because of the wonderful weather you need an outdoor living room as well ...

or, if the weather is a little less cooperative, an alcove complete with fireplace.
A better view of the decorative, fabric ceiling in the alcove.


One of the guest bedrooms.

Magnificent views of the lake & the mountains. On the far right you can just see the wall to our house.

The outdoor kitchen is also a necessity for a well furnished home...

as well as the pool. you can easily swim laps in this pool.

The woodwork on the closets was magnificent.


Another guest bedroom.


Finally the master bedroom...

complete with fireplace....

and of course the en suite bath.
House #2:  The Village

Ah, the Village.  I miss it a bit.  This house was smaller but had a lot of character.  The couple had inherited it from an aunt and uncle and had recently updated it.  But a lot of it had the original, or at least older, details.  There was a chicken in the back yard.  I don't think it was their chicken since they were from Manhattan and well....the borough is not known for poultry raising.


The living room.

The dining room.

The kitchen.

Looking out to the dipping pool.

The outside dining area.

The den...

complete with big screen TV.

a guest bedroom.

House #3  Upper La Floresta

This house was the perfect house for a single woman.  And, believe me, there are a lot of single women here.  I was walking in the Village on the day of a Singles Party at Lake Chapala Society.  I was passed by hordes (and I DO mean hordes) of single ladies of advanced age dressed to the nines and loaded for bear.  First one group, then a second, a third, then a fourth (clearly late) in a dash for the gates.  A block later I saw a nattily attired gent of about 70 ambling in the direction of LCS.  I felt like running up to him and saying:  "It's not too late.  Turn back.  You're outnumbered 100:1.  You can't survive something like this." However, quien sabe?  It could be his thing.  But I digress.  The house was walled (security) and had an enclosed courtyard that required no mowing.  One floor.  Maybe 1100 square ft or a tad more.  The woman split her time between here and Las Vegas.  A surprising number of people are from Las Vegas and Phoenix here.

The artwork & decorations made this house more interesting...

as can be seen in this photo of the entryway...

and this photo of the living room....

and even this photo of a giclee print.

The compact kitchen had all of the necessities.

The bedroom is right-sized for one.



House #4:  Rancho del Oro

Second coincidence of the tour.  This was a house that we had looked at to buy (well, is there a house we DIDN'T look at?) and later to rent.  So it was old home week.  Very nice place with a great terrace.
But the whole time we were walking through it, we were keeping score.  View: our house wins; Baths: Our house wins; Walk in Closet: Tour house wins;  Kitchen: Tie;  Floors: Our house; Ceilings: Tour House.  It got quite ridiculous.  We finally stopped. Of course our house won.  So, here's the house. You decide.

Well, actually not.  Michael was sure he had taken photos of it during the looking phases of buy/rent but, due to realty fatigue, he actually had not.  So, no photos.  Trust us.  Our house won.



House Tour Bonus:  Abbeyfield  Assisted Living

O.K. folks, get ready.  Here I go with the cost of living/quality of life thing again.  So, Abbeyfield was on the tour which was a little quirky but kind of an interesting choice.  Abbeyfield was started in England in the '50s to provide assisted living (they didn't KNOW it was assisted living then) in a small, caring and family style way.  Today it is in 16 countries and Ajijic is the first one in Latin American. So, the setup.  There are four common rooms (including two which overlook the Lake) and then four casitas with living room, kitchen/dining and bath and one single room with bath in the main house.  The photos will tell the tale.  There is a fully stocked kitchen where people can make breakfasts and lunches and then there is a full dinner prepared and served in the evening.  If you need a nurse to come in regularly or a doctor it's not a problem because they all do house call stuff.  It is not a skilled nursing place.  Now look at the pictures.  Don't look at the price yet.  I did a little comparison shopping.  The average cost per month for assisted living in Massachusetts is $4,950 USD.  I'm sure it is more in the toney suburb that we used to live in.  The cost for Abbeyfield is 13,000 pesos or just about $1,000 USD per month.  One-fifth.  Hmmmmm.  It doesn't have the wood shop, the barbershop/hair salon, the media room that NOB ones may boast of but it is right in the middle of the Village, right on the Malecon and these people can walk to restaurants, shops, the Red Piano (if their hearts can take the action there) and they can do it 365 days a year because it doesn't snow.  Or rain (during the day)  O.K. I will stifle myself.

The lap pool at Abbeyfield.  You know you are in assisted living when the lap pool has a grip bar -- look closely.

The indoor common room.

The view of the malecon & lake from the terrace.

The outdoor common area.

The common kitchen.  He seems a bit young for the place.....

The common dining room.

The living room of an empty unit.

The bedroom of an empty unit. Each has a private patio.

The bathroom of one of the units.

The kitchenette of one of the units.


The End of the Season

The high season lasts from November through mid-April.  As the crocuses fight their way through the northern snows, the Pelicans, Snowbirds and our huespeds (guests) wander off to resume their other lives.  Bob and Maggie, our last guests of the season, were on their way to a wedding in Mexico City and stopped in for only two days.  It was a hard assignment to cram all the charms of the Village, all the Margaritas in creation and 40,000 calories of Mexican food into them but, in all humility, I think we did a credible job. And we all had a lot of fun.  Like many of our visitors who previously have visited Mexico, Bob and Maggie were taken aback somewhat when they encountered village life.   Maggie remarked that Ajijic (and the other colonial cities they saw later) were like a different country from the beach resorts or border towns they had been to before.  And it is totally true.  Everything is different. The climate (it's WAY better); The People (friendlier because they don't deal with tourists); The Food (no Senor Frogs); The Value (see point 2, no tourists). Well, enough of my Chamber of Commerce ramblings.  You'll see when you get here.   Unless you're already here.  Then you know.

Barking Theory

I've been thinking about dogs a lot lately.  Mostly at 2AM.  Sometimes at 5AM.  That's because I am awake because of the DOGS.  The BARKING dogs.   GRINGO dogs.  When we lived in the Village, at least where we were, we didn't have barking MEXICAN dogs.  That's because the Mexican dogs were out in the street all day being dogs and doing dog things and then sleeping soundly at night.  There are these two dogs in the Village that typify Mexican dogs to me.  One is a Mastiff/Great Dane (giant) and the other is a wiry haired Heinz 47 (tiny).  They are the best of friends.  Around 9AM they are at the butchers waiting for bones.  The little one always snarfs his, steals the big guy's and runs through town teasing him to get it back.  When they tire of the game, they kind of look at each other as if "Hey, duh, want to go swimming?  Huh? swimming?" and they race off and hurl themselves in the lake and chase the ducks.  Roll on the grass. Check out LCS. Wander the streets.  Sprawl on the sidewalks for a nap. Don't even raise their heads when you step over them.  Make the rounds of restaurants in late afternoon for scraps.  Go home.  Go to bed.  Another day in paradise.  They are very well adjusted.  And don't bark.  So, in gratitude to the wonderful, largely silent, dogs of the the Village we offer this visual tribute.

Hmmmm.  The Plaza or the Lake.....
On the way to the butcher shop
I left that damn bone around here somewhere.
A stoop for two.  These guys are inseparable pals.  Many such in the Village.
A post Lake dip roll in the sand
Did I SAY you could take my picture?
Another guy fresh from the Lake
Two sets of buddies
REALLY wet dog
Chihuahuas  don't yap here.  Don't shake here.  Act like normal dogs. 
No reason.  Just adorable.
God, those birds were fast.  That was exhausting.
You can walk over me.  You can walk around me.  I'm not moving.
Schnauzers don't yap here.  They don't nip here.  At least not twice.
King of the Plaza.  I think.  At least ONE Shepard is.  Never a growl but deference is offered by all.

Ta Ta for Now

Like always (well, sometimes) I sit down and think: "Boy, it's a little thin this time.  What will I write about?"  And then, as always, stuff just pops up.  Random perhaps.  But stuff.  As April approaches we're gearing up for the main event -- Semana Santa.  A two week period of religious and alcoholic intensity that renders the village both ecstatic and seriously hung over.  I shall endeavor to capture both aspects if possible (I know Michael will).  Then soon after that, it's off to L.A., Australia and New Zealand. Crack out the compression socks, the Xanax and banish thoughts of Flight 370.  Until next time.