MeXscape

Living, working, and playing in Mazatlan, Mexico

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Still Getting Used to Things

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There are many things strange and wondrous in Mazatlan, completely different from the cultural norms in the US. One of the big differences is the attitude toward noise. Noise is a very real fact to be dealt with here. I've gotten pretty zen about it, and usually find myself enjoying it. I've come to see it as the daily, exuberant celebration of life, and a wonderful part of living in this vibrant city. Not so this morning.

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Maid Craze

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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.

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The Saturday Night Locksmith - Six Degrees of Mazatlan

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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.

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A Vocabulary Lesson

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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.

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Baby, It's Cold Outside

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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.

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