Pandemic Pandemonium

Is It Just Us?

We have achieved some notoriety for our ability to zero straight into the heart of mayhem in our travels.  Our friend Allan says we should open a business called Searles Disaster Tours.  You may remember the typhoon we barely escaped in Japan, the flood in the desert of Morocco, the norovirus plagued trip to the Copper Canyon, being lost for 48 hours in the cartel infested hinterlands of Michoacan..... well you get it.  But this trip was a  real pip!

Off to Dallas

Michael decided that it made the most sense to have his knee replaced in Dallas.  We would have to drive (20.8 hours each way) because his doctor (who I categorized as Alarmist and he characterized as Prudent) said he couldn't fly for two months.  Dallas for two months....I think not. As usual our driving trips through Mexico always provide stimulating adventure and abject fear.    Well, actually the drive between Guadalajara and Laredo is one of the most boring drives known to man.  The only sight of note was the Tropic of Cancer Monument somewhere near Zacatecas.  It was only memorable because it threw me back to being 13 and sneaking a read of Henry Miller's scandalous book by the same name without detection by my parents.  That held my interest for about 3 minutes.  Also, there are a bunch of these  T of C monuments in places like Cabo and Santiago-- so who cares?

Things continued to bore us for several more hours until we saw that both sides of the road were lined with Federales with very large guns who were standing next to State Police with very large guns.  By the time we got down to the Municipal police line up I turned to Michael and said, "I don't know -- this doesn't look good."  "Well, we just keep going because turning around looks odd", said Michael.  From there we passed a squadron of bomberos (EMT/firemen) with no guns but blaring ambulance sirens and then, most unsettling of all, about 40 guys in full scale bio-hazard suits.  Michael looked up the hill (I was totally focused on the guns) and saw a bunch of tents. There had to be somewhere between 300-400 officers of the law + bomberos and who knows who the biohazard folk were. Since we didn't get shot and no one else got shot we assume it was some sort of large scale exercise of -- who knows what.  The thing about Mexico is that we'll never know.  I mean Americans would totally freak if their police were arrayed like that with no explanation.  Not here.  Quien sabe?  We were more content to be bored after that.

Oh Boy, This is SO Not Ajijic

We rented a house in a 55+ community because it met the post surgical need for one floor, grab bars etc. etc.  It came with three walkers which I think tells you everything you need to know.  The interior of the house was really nicely furnished and outfitted which was great since we spent over a month there.  We will include some photos of the neighborhood and I believe you will see that it is decidedly NOT Ajijic.  All the houses are virtually the same. If they removed all the street signs and just plopped you down in the center of the community I would defy you to to find your house out of the thousands (not exaggerating) virtually identical houses. Zero lot lines.  All the shrubs are the same size.  It's a new development and I pointed out that just about when all the shrubs grow to a decent height  the original homeowners will be dead.  We could sit on our patio (absolutely no privacy) and observe as our neighbors walked the "common area" armed with sticks to poke at the ground and then sprinkled  poison on the fire ants when they  were aroused. It was jolly good fun. I really don't mean to be judgmental but you know I can't help myself.  A lot of people think we're crazy for living in  Mexico but no one would ever say it is boring.

Some pictures of the cookie-cutter houses and the small trees, showing how recently everything was built.

The house we rented. We were packing up to head back to Ajijic.

In one of my rehab walks, when I was finally allowed out of the house, I spotted this Great White Egret and this Great Blue Heron staking out their fishing areas.

We had arrived just in time to experience the full hysteria of the pandemic.  Texas, being Texas, was reluctant to put in place the guidelines of distancing that we have all come to know and love.  Their mega churches (roughly the size of Yankee Stadium) were going full throttle in attempts to save their flock from the "invisible enemy".  Michael was in and out of the hospital in less than 12 hours with a new knee and a truly disgusting photo (which I know he will insist on including) of his newly installed titanium knee.  From then on we were exiled to the house for at least three weeks.  I would make forays to the Krogers at sunrise and obtain delights unknown (or unaffordable) in Mexico.  For instance in Mexico at our local expat store a box of Cheez-Its is about $7.50 a box, ditto pickles and salad dressing.  Being in Krogers was like winning the lottery.  I threw crackers and pickles and salad dressing and artisanal bread into my sanitized cart with abandon.  I spent 20 minutes just mooning over the cheese counter.  It was heaven.  And then back out into the plague infested suburbs.

The Pandemic Diet

Surprise! There is none.  If you are a congenitally skinny person stop reading now because I hate you already.  Almost everyone I know is as concerned about dying of obesity as Covid-19.  I mean what else is there to do?  Plus there is the subconscious fear that each tempting scoop of ice cream may be the last to ever cross your lips.  Also, you are told to stock up on items with a long shelf life.  Pasta, beans, potatoes, more pasta, more beans. Why is everything low calorie so damn perishable?  In an effort (probably vain) we ordered a food dehydrator from Amazon.  We then bought about a truck load of perishable items and began shrinking them and saving them.  What we failed to realize was that dehydration of food (unlike of humans) takes FOREVER.  Thus, on our maiden dehydration voyage it took a mere 14 hours to dry out our mushrooms. We are racing against time to preserve the remains of the truckload.

A Triumphant Return to Mexico

It was triumphant only in that we actually made it back across the border.  As the days ticked by (oh so slowly) in Dallas we began to hear rumblings about the border closing.  We were pretty sure we would be OK since we are permanent residents but our friend Alex (who has only a temporary visa) was meeting us in Laredo and following us home to Ajijic.  A friend had advised us to use the Colombia Bridge crossing just outside of Laredo rather than the main crossing in the city.  Some advice is truly golden!  We arrived at the crossing and we were literally the only two cars there.  The inspection of our car was cursory at best although the young officer was clearly entranced by my collection of jigsaw puzzles.  I could have had a kilo in every box but he didn't seem to care.  Then into immigration and to get Alex's car taken care of and voila the whole thing was over in 15-20 minutes.  You can contrast that with a couple Alex met at the hotel we stayed at that night.  They had gone through the main border crossing and it is so dangerous in Laredo now that they had to have a police escort for a half an hour until they were out of town.  Dodged that one.

Contrast these views from our back terrace with our views from the house in Frisco Lakes and one can easily see why we love our house in Ajijic so much.

The New (Ab)Normal

It's Semana Santa (Easter) which is the biggest holiday of the year in Mexico.  Everybody has vacation for two weeks.  Week One is religious and solemn and Week Two is intense, incessant partying.  In normal times, there would be the Passion Play that stretches over multiple days and involves a torch light parade as Jesus carries a really big cross up the mountain, and a number of other installments like the Resurrection.  The Plaza is buzzing before, during and after each offering. When Easter Day is over everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) heads to the beach for a week of parties.  Those forced to stay in Ajijic amuse themselves by firing off cojotes constantly, drinking a reservoir of tequila and singing along to Tuba bands.  It is quite something.

Not this year.  We will provide pictures.  You cannot meander on the Malecon.  You can not imbibe in (or even enter) the Plaza.  Everything is closed.  There are checkpoints set up at the three entrances to Lakeside to ensure that those feckless (and perhaps infected) Guadalajarans  don't come into town to spread contagion.  You can't even buy liquor until April 30th which is a horrible imposition for Mexicans and Gringos alike. We have luckily found a bootlegger. They did resolve that the brewing of beer was an essential business so the breweries are back up and running.  Priorities after all.

These photos were taken on a Sunday afternoon when the Chapala malecon would normally be thronged with at least a thousand Tapatios and locals enjoying the beautiful day.

The malecon was totally closed by the Chapala Municipio to enforce social distancing and stay at home orders.  You can be subject to 36 hours of administrative arrest if you defy the order.  I don't know what an "administrative" arrest is but believe me you just don't want to get any kind of arrested in Mexico.

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The last block leading to the Ajijic malecon was closed off so that no one could even drive down by the malecon.

A previous photo showing how many people crowd the Chapala pier on a normal Sunday.

A Canine View of the Pandemic

Since it appeared that everyone in the world was being interviewed about how they are coping with the pandemic, I decided to check in with our Pit Bull Chico to get his view of the situation.  I was pretty bored.

"So, Cheeks, I guess this is really a bummer for you.  No running on the mountain, no trips to the ice cream store," I said.

"Au contraire ma cherie", he replied.  Chico is quite polished. "This is the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Well, you're probably the first interviewee to express such a favorable view of the pandemic.  Enlighten me."

"Certainly.  For starters, I can't get it.  Not like that stupid tiger.  It's conceivable that you could get it from petting me but that would really be YOUR problem, true?  Secondly, now all of my humans are home 24/7.  This means extra hands to take care of my every need or whim.  Beyond this, the three of you are easily confused about who has catered to my various whims at any time.  For instance, you are probably unaware that I have had 37 treats today by simply going from one of you to the other looking mournful.  Yesterday I scored a coup with two breakfasts.  And I've never seen you guys cook so much.  Before it was dining out and leaving Chico home.  Now it's dining in with Chico by your side looking....dare I say it.... mournful.  I have never had do many table scraps before in my life.  This whole thing is sweet."

"So, in your view there is no downside to this horrible pandemic that has cost tens of thousands of lives and probably wrecked the economy for decades?" I asked.

"Well, it is not ALL roses.  I've been meaning to talk to you about your incessantly watching that TV show with the guy with the horrid Orange Hair.  I like the guy with the New York accent better.  Actually, I like the Trailer Park Boys better than either of them.  Perhaps you could confine your viewing time to when I'm asleep by the pool."

"Well Chico, this has been most eye opening. I'd interview the cat next door but you know how they obfuscate and lie."

"So true, so true.  Time for the pool."

Chico napping in preparation for his interview with Deirdre.

Chico with his hat at a jaunty angle and his dog treat "cigar" ready for his interview.

So What Comes Next?

Who knows?  We've either been lucky in having no cases here at Lakeside or it just hasn't gotten around to us yet.  We're Zooming for cocktails and book clubs and family chats but it does get a little lonely.  I'm sure you are all in the same boat.  I just cancelled our last reservations for the trip we'd planned to France in May -- maybe, just maybe-- we can do it in September.  So, until something of note occurs which calls for a blog we'll just be hanging around Ajijic, wanting it to be over and absorbing way too many calories.  Adios mis amigos.

Bacalar - Before it All Went to Hell in a Hand Basket

Explanatory Note:

We went to Bacalar at the end of January before the pandemic became a reality to Americans.  We had a lovely time but then got overtaken by pandemic craziness and a trip to the States (THAT was interesting) to get Michael's knee replaced.  We've made it back across the border and are cocooned in our abode above the lake.  Even though we  can't complain about our imprisonment we do.  We bet you do too.  So we thought we'd send out the Bacalar blog, albeit tardily, because it might cheer you up.  Just look at the pictures and it will reassure you that there is still a world beyond your four walls..  And one day, when this is all over, you could go there.

Shhhh. Damn it New York Times.  Don't Tell...

There I was, lounging in my mismatched PJs, sipping on my second cup of java when a headline leapt out at me from the NY Times. No, not the usual suicide inducing Impeachment drivel or the slowly emerging terror of corona virus.  Far worse.  The headline read:  "Bacalar, the next Tulum?"

So, let me explain.  Tulum was an idyllic laid-back, azure, cenote dotted haven on the Yucatan peninsula about 20 years ago.  We first went there in 2004 when our sons were 15 and 17 and it was truly gorgeous.  You could just drive up to semi-unearthed Mayan ruins and climb the pyramids.  You could find a cenote and dive in.  To explain.  The Yucatan benefits from a huge system of underground rivers with crystal clear water.  These rivers run under the limestone which blankets the area.  Limestone is soft.  Sometimes the current of the water wears away the limestone and the surface collapses creating this marvelous swimming hole  -- some with caves and tunnels which I find entirely too creepy to enter.  Phobia #1. But the open ones are terrific.

When we went through Cancun in '04 it was already a lost cause filled with mega chain hotels, package tours and many, many drunks of all sizes, nationalities and ages.  We based in Playa Del Carmen which was then a sleepy mid-sized town.  Last year we returned to the Yucatan with our friends Gary and Ginny and were appalled by the development that had afflicted (and I DO mean afflicted) the coast from Cancun to Tulum.

Having witnessed the carnage of Tulum I raced to find Michael and waved my iPad article before his eyes.  "We've got to go.  We've got to go NOW! It's in The Times.  It's months away from being overrun and destroyed" I pleaded.  I explained to him that Bacalar was a couple of hours south of Tulum and on the Belize border.  Bacalar sits on a lagoon called the Lagoon of Seven Colors which is actually a series of collapsed cenotes running 21 km long and 1 km wide.  The different blues are caused by the differing depths and angle of the sun.

Beating The Rush

Michael agreed that this was a serious issue and that we needed to scope this place out before the hoards arrived.  Luckily we could catch a flight (unluckily on Volaris) to Chetumal and be there in less than 2 hours. We got our rental car and a half hour later were at Casa Bakal checking in.

It REALLY is like the Tulum of old.  No giant hotel complexes.  Lots of small guest houses and hotelitos.  Also a lot of hostels and backpackers.  Checking in we realized that (once again) we appeared to be the oldest guests by several decades.  Nathan, our desk clerk/concierge urged us to avoid the more commercial boat tours of the lagoon in that "they are filled with young, drunk punks who don't show reverence for the lagoon.  You'll be more comfortable on our sailboat."  Well, he was right even if somewhat presumptuous that we didn't like hanging with young, drunk punks.

Are the Searles Capable of Relaxation?

Whenever we travel we vow that we'll adhere to a light schedule and relax a bit.  We never do.  There is always something intriguing lurking around the corner.  We appear to be highly reactive to any form of stimuli. Bacalar is the solution to this compulsion.  It is beautiful.  It has good restaurants. It has one fort and a small museum.  That is IT.  So, within a day we were rolling out of bed late.  Lingering over breakfast.  We'd amble out on the dock to the hammocks or chairs to drink a second cup of coffee and watch the sun shift. Michael would kayak.  I would read in the pool. We would eat.  We would read.  We would swim.  We would repeat the next day.  We did this for four days and really enjoyed it.  More than four days might be pushing it.

Who Goes to Bacalar?

Well, unfortunately, after that damn article probably a lot of people who shouldn't.  But when we went it was quite an interesting mix.  There were, of course, young Mexicans.  One couple got engaged at a table set up on the dock with the whole staff pitching in.  It was unspeakably cute.  Then there were a lot of Europeans.  How do they find out about these places so fast?  Germans, an Italian couple and a French family.  The French daughter is studying in Guadalajara and her parents came to visit.  They live on Reunion Island off of Madagascar.  The Dad asked if I knew of it and I said "Sure, that's where over half of all the fatal shark attacks in the world take place."  Phobia #14.  He looked at me strangely but nodded his head in agreement.

In Conclusion

This is rather short by our standards but all we did is relax and who wants to hear about that?  If you love beautiful clear water and a relatively uncommercial get away go to Bacalar -- soon.  But only between December and early March or you will die of humidity. Do not bring hundred of pounds of snorkel gear (like we did) because there are few fish in the lagoon or cenotes.  The good news is the lack of fish keeps crocodiles out (mostly).  Bring your books.

Of course, upon arrival home, our friend Barbara emailed us about an article in the Mexican Daily News featuring Bacalar.  It appear that shortly after we were there (or during-- it's hard to tell)  there was a shootout on the highway we took from the airport.  A plane (narco plane of course) landed on the highway (why?) and there upon ensued a gun fight killing multiple people.  Well, it seemed quite peaceful to us.

The reception desk is to the left under the overhang. We had an individual cabana. All the cabanas were to the right of the main house.

The rear of the main house showing the pool, the outdoor terrace where we ate breakfast and the bar to the right under the palapa.

The dock and deck overlooking the Laguna del Siete Colores, where we would relax with our coffee in the morning.

The sailboat we cruised on one late afternoon until the sunset.

This large bird in the center was always perched across from the deck where we sat with our coffee.

Further south from the place we were staying were Los Rapidos (although they weren't that rapid). These individuals enjoyed flowing downstream in the current.

Los Rapidos were formed by a narrowing of the passage of the water from one cenote flowing into another.

The only fish we ever saw was at Los Rapidos in a shallow area away from the main current.

One day I kayaked to one end of the lagoon and encountered these large buildings. 

We never found out exactly what was their original purpose, but they appeared to be largely abandoned now.

On the sailboat cruise we sailed over to Pirate's Canal, where we encountered these interesting murals and a structure which looked like the bow of a ship.

One of the structures we passed on our cruise looked like something out of the Arabian nights with its own minaret.

The sunset part of the cruise did not disappoint.

Before leaving on our return flight we spent some time in Chetunal.

This band stand with its unique round stained glass pictures under the gables caught our attention.

As did this character with his bike and dog balancing on the back.

So, that's it until we head to Dallas and our month + long sojourn in our rental in a 55+ community.  Quite different from Bacalar I suppose but probably relaxing. Probably fewer narco plane shoot outs. We will update you on Michael's appointment with the knife and follow on activities.  In the interim have fun and, for our Northern friends, stay warm.

Some photos for your perusal: