MeXscape

I was in the middle of making a pot of vegetable soup when my stove quit. No problem. The primary tank is empty, and the gas supply needs to be switched over to the secondary tank. I called out to my beloved and sent him tromping down the stairs to accomplish the task. I waited at the stove for a fresh supply of fuel so I can finish cooking lunch. And waited. And waited. Finally, Chuck comes back upstairs and tells me both tanks are empty.

We did move to the tropics, right? So why are we freezing? It has been cold here. And, since we don't have heat, cold outside means cold inside. We struggle to maintain 15 degrees (60 Fahrenheit) in the house. Brrr!

This is our first winter here, so we have nothing to compare it to. The locals keep assuring us this is highly unusual. All I know is it's cold. Every time there is a whisper about a store that has some space heaters, it's mobbed. Street vendors are selling knit caps and scarves. The beaches are empty. Local crops are in danger. People have died. The other morning, we woke up to 2 degrees: an all time record for Mazatlan on any date in history.

I have to keep swearing to Chuck that I'm not trying to tour all the hospitals for a multi part series on health care in Mazatlan. It's really not a goal of mine, and there are many things I would rather be doing that lying in hospital beds, like pouring alcohol on paper cuts or attending a live taping of the Jerry Springer show. It's just that fate keeps conspiring against me; well, that and my own stupidity.

Two years ago, I got my very first brand new washing machine and dryer. Before then, we had always bought a used replacement whenever the current one became irreparable. So not only were they my first new models, they were my very first matched set. I studiously researched brands and models for quality, value, durability, service, and feature sets. It took a couple of months for me to finally make a decision, a luxury I didn't usually have since I had previously bought replacements when my current one was hopelessly broken and need dictated a speedy purchase.

Words for the day:
Lock: Chapa
Key: Llave
Locksmith: Cerrajero

Chuck and I got a surprise, intensive vocabulary course Saturday night. After many years of vigilant service, the lock on our front door finally surrendered to the salt air. The internals were rusted. We couldn't get into the house. We were facing quite the predicament. After our robbery, every possible entry and exit point to the house had been fortified. All of Chuck's tools and anything else that would have been helpful was in a locked toolbox behind two stout metal doors. The keys to the doors and toolbox were in the house.

Saturday night we returned home around 10PM. We were feeling pretty good after an evening out with friends, but it wasn't to last. We parked the truck and Jennifer got out and went to open the front door. Only the lock wouldn't turn. We kept messing with it for a while, but finally had to admit that it was broken and we had a big problem. Like many houses here, all of the windows have iron bars over them so breaking window wouldn't get us in the house. We do have other exterior doors, but they are bolted from the inside and not at ground level. I've got lots of tools I could have used to remove the lock, but they are behind two doors in a locked tool box. Since the door in question is about 2” thick and solid wood my shoulder certainly wasn't going to convince it to give.

The following two posts are about the exact same events. Unbeknownst to each other, both Chuck and I wrote about the same events at the same time. I was getting ready to publish mine when he gave me his to look over. After reading his, I decided to post them both.

Getting fresh fish in this town is easy. Especially if you avoid the large grocery stores. There are numerous pescaderias and vendors that will sell you the daily catch. Even better, just stroll down to Fisherman's Beach when the boats come in (which they do three times a day), check out the catch, point, and start bargaining. You don't even have to know Spanish. But for us, it's even easier. We have a Fish Fairy.

I have talked with several recent expatriates who are surprised at the daily cost of living in Mazatlan. It is not expensive by any standard to live here, but it is also not cheap. It's easy to be fooled into thinking Mexico is cheap, especially with the proliferation of travel books out there like "Mexico for $18 a Day". It is possible to live here for $18 a day, but you are probably not going to like it.

I have a cousin who lived in Mexico for a scant $500US a month. He lived in a hut on a remote beach with a few meager possessions: a hammock, a blanket, a pot, a pan, a few plates, cups, and forks, a change of clothes, and that's about it. He didn't even have walls. He fished for his meals. Honestly, most of his budget was beer money. While that may be a great, carefree adventure for a 20-year-old, it's not the way most of us want to live.

Shortly after we moved here, I decided to get a maid. Wait, that's not true. I decided to get a maid before we ever moved here. It was one of the many benefits of moving to Mexico. I am a wretched house keeper. Everyone who knows me will tell you so. Shortly after we moved here, I hired a maid. And boy, was I delighted.