2011 06 07

Part Two

So, after a couple of days' sleep, we started to surface for short periods, interacting on some level and with various degrees of success with our friends/housemates pro tem who looked after the cats whilst we were gone.  Lovely people, we are so lucky to have met a quintet of 20-somethings who think we're pretty cool for old shits.  They didn't sign up for two years of cat-sitting, of course, but things do move more slowly in Mexico ...  harrumph.

Speaking of cats, we have acquired a rare and special article of clothing:  the Bripper.  Bruce wanders over and flops himself upon one's feet and falls asleep.  Living slippers!  internal temp of 107!  in the fucking summer south of the Tropic of Cancer or Capricorn or whatever we is.  You realise, of course, that when we lived in the Cesspits and the average temps were 30F the Bripper was under the down comforter with his nose in his paws.  No wonder they were worshipped by the ancient Egyptians.

Gary is thrilled.  We have had two little thunderstorms in the last week, and he was missing them living in California.  I like them 'cause they drop the temperature a bit.  The cats ignore them, which is kind of surprising as Bruce was a stray and has been traditionally frightened of noise, including people he has met a million times but with whom he doesn't live.

The neighbourhood is a mix of newer and older houses, well-maintained for the most part and very quiet, which is a nice change from living on the Ranch.  We have a tiny patch of dirt supporting a two-fronded palm of about my height.  Gary is hoping to cultivate some of the veg we are not going to easily find here - different kinds of tomatoes, melons, whatever.  I say more power to him, as long as I can eat what he grows, I'll be happy.  There is also a concrete 'backyard', in which we will locate the laundry and the large fridge when they get here.  We have two bedrooms on one side of the house, the living room and kitchen on the other, with the Bog in between the bedroom and kitchen.  The humidity and temperature of the bog are a constant  44C regardless of ambient temps in the rest of the place.  It is about a metre wide, and the toilet is equipped with a plastic split seat which happily sticks to one's arse from the sweat thereon.  the shower enclosure is 10 m. square, which is a delight, and the shower head is so high up the wall I can almost reach it.  I can see the installers on ladders up there putting it in - it ain't a pretty picture.

We are slowly recuperating, the lung crud (thanks, Arlene) gradually vacating the premises.  We went out with our friend Paul last evening, who kindly took us shopping, and then we went to supper at a restaurant called La Poblanita.  A lot of good food for three - for $30 US.  The drawback with restaurants in Mexico generally is that they all have large televisions, loud and intrusive.  I suppose it makes a change from US restaurants, where the patrons are loud and intrusive ...


I have to go stick my head in the refrigerator now.

R

2011 06 05

Journey to the Centre of Mexico, part one

We have touched down in Zamora de Hidalgo, Michoacan.  Finally.  Some of you may know how difficult it has been to get to this point, but here are some high-lights anyway.  Gary was forced to retire about the same week that the mortgage increased by 63 per cent.  $2000 mortgage payment from $800 cheque = the kind of financing that only Banks that are Too Big to Fail get away with, so there went the house.  This was an emotional blow and took some time to deal with.   As in three bloody years.  And it came to dirt at the end, as the former friends with whom Gary had been staying decided that it was time to plant a "cash crop" on the land we were infesting, and pulled some dirty tricks to get G moved out of their yard.  It worked to our advantage, as we actually got moved, but it was rude and unnecessary.  And the Vicious Asp Queen has succeeded once more in ending Princess K's friendship with someone not of her choosing.  And may it bring them both the joy they deserve.

So, after working without sleep for two days, we had the moving truck packed up and the help of a stranger who wandered by in the night and wanted to look at the stuff we were putting in the dumpster.  He turned out to be a real treasure, did Craig, and we are eternally grateful.  He helped pack and clean up and drove us 100 miles or so to the train station in Emeryville, which is sort of Oakland for those who don't know.  We had decided that we had to relax a bit before we got on a plane, and there is a train from somewhere up in Washington that runs down the coast to Los Angeles - The
Coast Starlighter.  It was a reasonable price, and we thought that 13 hours gently swaying to the rhythm of the rails would do the trick.

We eventually relaxed, but the bloody train station was a nightmare.  I had (still have)  a bad chest cold, and could hardly breathe and walk at the same time, and the train stops with the engine at the door from the station.  We were riding steerage, about a half-mile from the front of the train.  No porters.  Hot.  No breath.  Many bags.  I had to stop and gasp near one of the doors to a sleeper and the attendant at the doorway said:  why didn't you arrange ahead of time for baggage assistance?   She shut up after I looked at her and I limped the rest of the way to our car.  It was better in LA, they called ahead and arranged baggage help.  We got on the shuttle from Union Station to LAX, went through the bullshit with bags and 'security' and finally got on the plane and collapsed.  flight was okay, but by the time we got to Guadalajara, the cold had hit Gary and we were both miserable.  We don't have a lot of money, but the thought of several more hours in buses trying to get from GDL to Zamora was beyond us, so we splurged on a taxi.  We then spent two days in bed.

Thus endeth part one.  Pardon spelling mistakes, I'm sick and it's hot.

R

2011 05 15

Well, that was way overly optimistic.  We're still in California, but slowly getting (1) healthier and (2) packed.  Que sera, sera.  I'll keep you posted

2011 01 18 - Leaving on a ... slow RAV4

We are finally on the road!!  As of Thursday, January 19th, our spotty internet access is going to be non-existent.  We will get back in touch as soon as possible, but it could be a couple of weeks.  Por fin, estamos en el camino!  A partir del jueves, 19 de enero, el accesso a internet irregular va a ser inexistente.  Pondremos en contacto tan pronto como sea posible, pero podría ser un par de semanas.

2010 12 02

We are, unfortunately, still in California. Sigh. I wanted to share my newest Joy of Cooking Out-of-doors recipe with you:

Sloppy Joes al mapache

Scrumble fry a bunch of hamburger with some onions and spices. In the outdoors, in the cold, on a camp stove. Chop some carrots whilst the meat is browning, in the absence of cutting board cutting your thumb at the same time. Find cans of tomato paste and prepare to borrow a can of beans from the landlord. Stir meat. Look for can opener. Stir meat. Whilst locating can opener, discover that el mapache who lives under the truck has been at the closed and locked-down bin with the bread in, and has powdered the buns you were going to use as the Joes under the Sloppy. OK, no bread. Stir meat, add carrots. Fail to borrow a can of beans because you've failed to locate the can opener. OK, no tomato paste, no beans. Stir meat, add chicken bullion and water. Serve hamburger soup with Melba toast, pepper to taste.

Don't I love Nature? - living in the wilds and cooking over the campfire. In the cold, the rain, the wind and the fucking mapaches. I had a mapache-fur coat once upon a time, when it was more socially acceptable to wear animal skins. I think I may soon get another - or at least the beginnings of one.

Hint: Spanish nomenclature

2010 11 09 - Better late than never

It is raining. It is cold. I am cold and wet. And grumpy. Gary is cold and wet. And grumpy. I have had a virus/cold since Labour Day. Ditto Gary. Our possessions are cold and wet. The truck is cold and wet. We have no place to sleep that is not also cold and wet. Therefore, we have decided to throw the stuff into the truck and get on the road to Tucson, where we will put it all in a storage unit and sort it out there. We should be there before the 1st of December. It is not raining in Tucson, and it is unlikely to rain like it is here. We will sort out enough to live on for a couple of months and head to Zamora, where it is warm and dry. And Christmas, but that is a problem of a different colour. Once we have thawed, we will return to Tucson and deal with actually getting the rest of the house moved to Zamora. We think this is a much more sensible plan than trying to fight the rain here, even though it is going to use up money that we don't really have. Too bad we didn't get to this point a year or two ago, eh?

2010 09 28

Samuel Clemens, with or without 't', never remember - and otherwise known as Mark Twain, has never been a favourite author of yours truly - that folksy down-home southern american crap simply does not appeal. However, he did say this:

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

He was a little optimistic, and definitely not modern P.C. but I think that should be required learning in schools, don't you?