MeXscape

It’s the dog days of summer and even the dogs are relentlessly hounded by the heat and humidity while the days just seem to run together in a sweaty continuum of time. Depending upon the day and the location, the temperature’s hover around 90 degrees and moderate to about 84 at night; unless the wee hours are cooled by the rains. The humidity can be a tolerable 75% or shoot up to an oppressive 90% just before Mother Nature unleashes one of her tropical thunderstorms. These monsoon type storms will build huge thunderheads over the mountains throughout the day and then descend on Mazatlan and disgorge their moisture late in the afternoon or during the night. The lightning spawned by these tropical storms is very spectacular and will sometimes stretch across 120 degrees of horizon with thunderclaps lasting as long as 15 seconds. As the storms move down from the mountains, the increasing reverberations from the mighty peals of thunder will invariably set off every car alarm for miles. One huge bolt from above is enough to create a horrible electronic wailing that is ear splitting at street level. You would think that when this happens, people would turn off their alarm systems not simply reset them for the next thunderclap. However, this is Mazatlan where common sense is sometimes lost in the cultural shuffle.

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.”

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.

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.

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.