MeXscape

Last night, while we were sitting around in puddles of sweat and pretty much trying not to touch anything or let anything touch us, I kept thinking I was feeling a stray cool breeze every now and again. I sat in the sweat puddle in my chair, which is the one thing I have to touch if I don't want to stand all day, wondering about this perceived coolness. My eyes repeatedly flicked to the thermometer. The temperature remained an unchanged 89.2. So why did I think it was refreshing? Finally, it dawned on me. The air wasn't becoming cooler, it was drier. Boy what a difference.

Those of you who have been reading for awhile know that I have some trouble with maids, and I don't understand why. I am not a tyrant. I am really easy going. I never complain. Well, except with that one, but I was totally entitled. And yet, my maids keep leaving me. Okay, at least two have gotten better paying, full-time jobs with health benefits, so I really can't blame them. But I still feel like I have done something wrong. And to make matters worse, no one tells you they are leaving. It's not the Mexican way. Telling me would hurt my feelings, and that would be unacceptable. So they just don't show up, and I have to figure out for myself that there was no emergency or they aren't sick – they just aren't coming back. That usually takes a couple of weeks, during which time my house gets dreadfully dirty.

The musical scene in Mazatlan is not a highly varied one. It is dominated by banda, banda, and more banda. I am starting to develop an appreciation, if not an affection, for this music that mixes traditional Mexican sound with an entire brass section and an accordion, giving a very German oom pah pah flavor. The next largest segment of music is cover bands who do American 60's, 70's, and 80's rock. I have heard every possible variation of Hotel California. Sometimes, I think if I hear that song one more time, my ears may start to bleed. I am so hugely grateful for my satellite radio.

When we came home today, our neighbors were standing around outside. We have been waiting and watching for a chance to talk with them. We were hoping that we could make a last ditch appeal with them do something. What, I don't know. Maybe kick him out. I hadn't thought that far ahead. We were just waiting to see them outside because we didn't want to knock on the door and risk having Pepe answer. And they haven't been outside much lately.

The next morning, around 11:00, an old, dirty, beat up, red Tsuru with no license plates pulled up in front of Pepe's house. Our street is very narrow, and the car completely blocked access so no one could come or go. A man got out and started calling to Pepe. I just thought, "What now?"