More tales of woe

When I recently purchased my membership in the Mérida English Language Library, included in the first books I borrowed was Trozas by B. Traven. I had forgotten what powerful and haunting images this German author paints of the Mexican peon class.

Trozas are the trunks of felled mahogany trees that are shipped to manufacturers in Europe and the United States. It is a story of the awful lives lived by indentured workers who make it possible for someone to have mahogany in their luxury automobiles and in their homes. If you want to understand the Mexican psyche, read some of Traven for disturbing glimpses and understanding.

Whether it’s a widow borrowing 30 pesos from a local shark so that her husband can have a respectable burial which leads to her ten year old son going to the jungle camps to live and work to pay off her ever increasing debt or it’s a modern day young woman purchasing a $700 designer handbag at the company store now known as the Mall and using a loan shark now called Visa or MasterCard, the result is devastatingly similar. A growing enslavement that leads to a life of hopelessness and despair.

I regret deeply my past involvement is such systems, whether as a boss or an abused worker. I am determined to make better choices in my remaining years.

My name is Paul. I live in Mérida and I am a recovering consumer.

Tough times

When La Dulce and I were exploring possible retirement locations, we met Peter Mudge in San Miguel de Allende. Peter is from Syracuse, New York and has lived in SMDA over 20 years. He is in his 80’s and lives in a pleasing little home in a typical Mexican neighborhood. He had added a small guest facility and terrace to his roof which he was renting for $250 U.S./week. We were one of his first guests and the studio had been largely rented since our stay.

Peter has become a dear friend. In a recent email he indicates he has had no guests since March and the loss of that formerly dependable extra money was now limiting his life. Drug war stories, swine flu scares, a faltering Mexico City economy and a collapsing U.S. economy and suddenly, booming SMDA is no longer booming.

Alan from England who owns the Yucatan Vista Inn in Mérida reports a similar tale of limited occupancy. He’s contemplating selling the hotel and his recently renovated home in San Sebastien at big losses and moving to Southeast Asia.

Las Arecas guest house is for sale. Luca’s Italian restaurant and Villa Maria Restaurant have both closed in the past few months. Home contractors are no longer in business. Expat re-sales of real estate are taking big reductions.

A new friend, Richard, has lived in Puerta Vallarta for ten years. He’s now in Mérida and considering it as a possible home. He says PV has become too expensive, the economy is terrible, there are no tourists and expats are packing up and fleeing. Speculative real estate bargains similar to those in Florida and Arizona can be found.

What can be gleaned from all this? Old adages come to mind. Get out of debt. Whatever you can expect your monthly income to be, live within those constraints. Put some of that aside for rainy days. Don’t become greedy. Don’t count on anything. Live simply.

Sure, I can possibly find a better housing bargain right now in the U.S. But home ownership costs and medical costs and monthly living expenses will continue to beat me down. Get away from people you feel you need to impress. Live among people who have a history of living on little. Look at their faces. Compare them to the faces of former acquaintances. The proof is there. Where do you think your best chance at happiness lies?

It´s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Recently on a bus trip to Gran Plaza mall, I noticed this large Christmas tree being erected by the Chedraui store across from the mall. I am talking really grande as you can tell from the two workers pictured on the extended branches of the tree they are assembling.

And the mall was filled with Christmas music and decorations. Like every year, I reflected, “Gee, it’s kind of early to start this, isn’t it.” And then I remembered it is late November, and I am sure children think Christmas will never get here.

Home Depot has replaced outdoor furniture with Christmas stuff. My grocery store had real pine trees for sale earlier this week.

Christmas is in the air.

(On a discouraging note, the furniture store, Marbol, has closed in Gran Plaza. I hope this means they moved somewhere and aren’t out of business.)

A Fair Day

On Wednesday I decided to venture out to the Yucatan State Fair in the outlying village of Xmatkuil. La Dulce arrives today and I wanted to familiarize myself with the process in case she wants to visit this event while she is here.

First, I located the bus to Xmatkuil. It parks alongside Calle 69 between Calles 58 and 60, sort of south of the markets. The fare is 6 pesos (yes, city buses are up this year from the former 5 peso charge). The bus essentially follows Calle 50 south out of the city and ends up in Xmatkuil. It’s a nice exploratory ride with pleasant Mayan voices surrounding you.

The bus drops you at the entrance to the fair. The entrance fee is 12 pesos and you then are thrust into the fairgrounds with throngs of people.

It pretty much reminded me of my former life’s Missouri State Fair in Sedalia. There are pavilions with cattle, sheep and pigs. Carnival games and rides. Performance arenas with famous entertainers (I recognized the names Gloria Trevi and Bobby Pulido). A circus. Mexican rodeos. Farm implement and new car exhibtors. Furniture and clothing stalls. State and City exposition halls. Lots of cheap trinket and food vendors. A dolphin show. An ice skating show. An artificial snow machine with a hill you can tube down. You can build a snowman and have a snowball fight. And of course, you can watch some masked guys wrestle.

The fair runs through November 29.

On my return home, I discovered a Los Trompos restaurant on Calle 60 between 65 and 67. Now I don’t have to journey up to Gran Plaza mall to get my fix of a torta pastor extraordinaire.

Another day of amazing discoveries in this place called Mérida.

A Red Letter Day

“When we are young, the words are scattered all around us. As they are assembled by experience, so also are we, sentence by sentence, until the story takes shape.”
Louise Erdrich in The Plague of Doves

Few men know how to become old. I am trying to learn. Some days have more teachable moments than others.

I’m finding older Yucatecan women still know how to flirt. Their counterparts back in the States have largely abandoned that trait. I am in a land filled with tutors.

Back home I was a disgusting, heavy, aging guy. In Yucatan, fleshiness is desirable. Coupled with my height in this land of short Mayans, I am an imposing figure. Being a gringo adds to my intimidation factor.

Last night a lady around my age passed me on the street. She said I was a “dashing man”. Taken aback, I mumbled some piropo back and we both continued on our respective ways, comfortable with who we are. No regrets.

Where better to grow old than a city with parks and park benches every few blocks. Resting places for aging guys. Watching and learning.

I feel like I am in an Elderhostel classroom with a shot at the honor roll this month. I know I got a gold star yesterday.

A Modern Day Smithie

I sit at my door eating some papaya and sipping a little tea.

I enjoy the day without a care in the world.

I have been seduced at one point by this virgin land and its people and I have returned.

Because to create something new in life, it is sometimes necessary to go back.

To a simpler time and place.

Face to face with the mysteries of life.

Where do we come from?

Who are we?

Where are we going?

This isn’t an escape. It’s a chosen regimen.

To hope is to begin to live.

And I can only live by forging my illusions until they become of substance.

My anvil beckons.

¿Me recuerdas?

It’s been fun seeing familiar faces and learning new names. I especially like that some locals seem to remember me and be happy to see me. Sort of in the spirit of “the troll emerges from under the bridge”.

They seem genuinely happy. Actual smiles that include their eyes. Involuntary twinkles. Some body twitches. Then I remember this is Mexico. Everybody is an actor. Nothing is involuntary.

Somedays I wonder if I am too gullible to live here.

My homeless buddy, Carlos, who lived in the doorway on Calle 57 behind Santiago’s market is gone. He’d lived there at least three years. I hope he is OK.

We´re going to the zoo, zoo, zoo. How about you, you, you?

The Casa on Calle 61 is well located. We’re seven blocks from the Plaza Grande and three from Santiago’s fountain and market. Four blocks the opposite direction gets us to Centenario Park and the zoo.

One morning recently I took my morning walk in Centenario. It’s a nice park with lovely tall trees and is always a little escape from the bustle of the city. (Except on weekends when screaming kids are everywhere.) On weekdays before 9:00 a.m. there is hardly anyone there. I saw maybe ten people other than workers.

At the end of the park is the city’s zoo. I know many people are opposed to the whole idea of zoos and animals in cages. You really wouldn’t like Mérida’s zoo. Compact cages and easy to see animals. It reminds me of my childhood trips to Swope Park in Kansas City.

In the early morning the animals are active. I especially enjoy the tigers, jaguars, giraffes and hippos. Sometimes I splurge on the one peso train ride. It, too, reminds me of childhood pleasures.

Occasionally on quiet evenings from up on our roof, you can hear the lions roar.

I like my animals close.

Back in the saddle again

I’ve been back in Mérida for over a week now. This is the start of five months here. La Dulce remains in Kansas working. She will join me three times during this sojourn. Ten days over Thanksgiving, two weeks during Christmas and for a month in February. Four weeks will be the longest we will be apart. Some tough times ahead as you may recall from her absences last winter. I’m sure my mood swings will spill over into some of my posts. Bear with me.

Heat greeted me on my arrival followed by rain every day since. Our French caretaker, Claude, says there’s a couple of hurricanes stirring things up.

I got 180 days on my tourist card at the airport with no problem. The Casa on Calle 61 looked fine. Mermaid pool was clean and full of water. And Claude had plugged in the refrigerator.

After a couple of days to readjust and re-acclimate, I am back in the saddle again. Here are a few random pics from the first day or two.

Happy trails to you….

Another night

Tonight, as evening shaped itself on Patio Escondido, I found me.

Every minute you perform hundreds of Karmic actions, yet you are hardly conscious of any of them. In the stillness of descending night, it is easier to listen to your mind, the source of all this activity. You learn to become aware of your actions and choices to a greater extent than normal. This awareness enables you to master you life rather than be mastered by it.

In the special light that is dusk, meditation is something you are one with; it is no longer a task to be done. What a special gift to sit quietly, watching the sky's first stars appear.

The street beyond the wall begins to quiet. So does my mind. Such perfect bliss.