MeXscape

Sunsets are pretty sacred for Chuck and me. We drop everything we are doing, grab a cold Pacifico, and go onto the upstairs terrace and enjoy a cool ocean breeze and the show. And the show is usually quite spectacular. Sometimes the sky is a riot of blues, greens, purples, oranges, yellows, reds and pinks, with the sun a fiery magenta disk in the middle. Other times, the sky is tranquil, and the yellow sun simply drops behind the sea.

This Sunday morning saw Jennifer and I having a lazy morning. The weather was beautiful and clear. We had been out rather late last night so it was nice to take things easy. Sundays are very quiet days here, with most shops closed and few people on the street. All of a sudden the tranquility was rudely interrupted by a sound that is very unusual here, but somewhat familiar. Even though it had been a while since we've heard it, it only took a second to place it because it was a regular, daily sound in Fort Worth. Sirens! Lots of them and very nearby.

Actually, we were the only ones surprised by the party, and it wasn't in our honor, so in the grand scheme of things the surprise only mattered to us.

With the temperature continuing to rise, (89.6°F in the house with 78% humidity,) I find myself less and less inclined to cook. But eating out all the time is expensive – or is it? We have found several places that serve up a superb meal for less than $8.00 US – for both of us combined, including drinks. Here's my list:

Our stuff is here! OK, we actually got our stuff June 29, but I haven't posted until now because I've been digging through boxes like a kid on Christmas morning, tossing bubble wrap into the air as I try to discover what treasure each box holds.

Having any type of work done here is a new and interesting experience. Everything is different, from finding someone to do the work, to how the work is done, to how you pay for the work. Nothing has taught us more about the cultural differences between the US and Mexico than trying to get simple jobs around the house done.

Chuck and I were having a lovely brunch on the terrace, enjoying the breeze and watching the sun glint off the ocean. Pretty much an idyllic morning here in Paradise. Suddenly, Reku jumped up and back pedalled so quickly he almost tripped over his own feet. I looked at Chuck, puzzled, wondering if he knew what was bothering Reku. He thought perhaps something had bitten him. But Reku wasn't looking at himself. He was staring intently behind me. I followed his gaze, and there, right behind my chair, was a bat. And Tasha was trying to make friends with it.

Traveling the streets of Mazatlan can be exciting, frightening, enlightening, appalling, loads of fun and at times incredibly exasperating, all during a single outing. The safest mode of transportation in town is the omni-present city bus and the riskiest obviously being the ubiquitous motor scooter. The buses are numerous, cheap and cover this small city with a practiced efficiency that makes them the preferred mode of transportation for most of the locals. The bus system can place you where you need to be or get you within an easy walk; Mazatlan is not all that big. The copious quantities of motor scooters that ply the city streets move amongst their four wheeled cousins like gnats about a sweating face; always moving, always positioning and sometimes getting swatted. Given some of the astonishing maneuvers I have seen executed by Mexican women driving SUV’s, riding a scooter around town with shorts and sandals is an act that most certainly tempts the fickled finger of fate.

Subtitled: Living on the Hill

The angle of repose is the incline at which various materials can maintain a state of rest. The angle of repose differs from material to material; you can stack square blocks to form a steeper incline than if you attempted a similar action with marbles. However, there is a point where the angle of the incline becomes so precipitous that eventually all materials will succumb to the forces of gravity; their angle of repose has been compromised. I believe that there is something akin to an angle of repose within the living and social communities of this planet that wholly govern both individual and group limits and their appropriate responses to the impending forces of psychic gravity when these limits are exceeded. Many things in ones life are governed by the angle of repose, both physical and emotional and we all respond in different ways to the inevitable tipping point.

Yesterday started out the same as any other day. Chuck woke up about a quarter to eight, slid out of bed, and took the dogs with him out of the bedroom for their morning potty break. I stretched and yawned, and remained there in bed, enjoying the comfort of the mattress and the coolness of the bedroom, steeling myself to get up, turn off the air conditioner, and face the heat of the day. After a few minutes, Chuck came back into the bedroom, and with four little words, dramatically changed the course of my day: “Babe, we've been robbed.”