Three Month Anniversary: Report on some of the good, some of the bad, and some of the whoa, ponies.

Evdad is off on a ride today to Volcan Colima.  She had a  two-mile high exhalation yesterday and I'm excited for him to get to see it up close.  She's currently the most active volcano in North America and a mere 2.5 hours from our house.
Evboy was here for 10 days over Spring Break. We took a couple of days to go to the beach, stopping to look at Colima from the side of the road.  She was having just a little upper GI distress that day, but still beautiful:

I wish I could offer you a soundtrack of our lives down here.  At night, we have a resident owl that hunts and hoots.  The morning cacophony is lovely. We've lucked out and inherited a yard full of extraordinary birds.  Soon, they'll get used to my camera lens and not see it as a big predator.  I can show you pictures of the vermillion flycatchers, the hordes of hummingbirds, the orioles and other assorted wildlife we enjoy.  That's the good.

The bad:   Our town of 6,000 has a party rental store that recently acquired a jukebox with Karaoke capabilities.  Can you see where I'm going with this?  This picture shows the morning after at my neighbor's house.  It started at noon yesterday with a jumping castle and Disney tunes, ramped up to oompah Mexican country music in the early evening and came to conclusion with a crescendo of Mexican rap about 11pm.  All is well, right?

Noooo!  At midnight, one of the kids woke up and turned the jukebox music to low (presumably not to wake the parents) but left the Karaoke microphone on high.  I fell back asleep at 2am and the kid was still singing.  At 6am, the family woke and started tidying up.  The jukebox rental was coming to an end. I understand, really I do.  I told Ev they wanted to squeeze the last few pesos worth out of the ol' jukebox while they cleaned up.  Ev said, "In the States you'd have been all over them with your ire." He's right.  I would have been.  I had bleary eyed coffee in bed serenaded by more oompah than I was feeling.

Something I'm sad about:  Another neighbor either lost or chopped down one of the most beautiful things on our northern horizon.  It was a norfolk pine-you know, the kind of houseplant you have in Albuquerque and can kill before it gets to be a foot tall.  Click on the picture below so you can feel my loss.

Changing the subject again.  For months we were completely flummoxed by the water situation down here, but bless Evdad, he's getting a handle on it.  The property's plumbing is confusing:  we have potable water and non-potable water, softened water and hard water.  Things that should be potable are not, things that should not use softened water, do.  Water appears intermittently from the city through two pipes, it is not metered.  We pay annually around $60 usd.  Sometimes the city gives us water (Senora! Tenemos pression!) and sometimes the city doesn't seem to have the water turned on (No hay agua hoy senora).  No city water=no problema because we have three big storage tanks called tinacos for potable water and one big storage pond called an aljibe for the yard. (I recently discovered the gardener is growing his "Catholics don't eat meat on Friday" fish in it).

This is our aljibe full of tilapia.

 And this is the largest of our potable water tinacos.  We have two more in other places.

 Then we have the pool (also could be considered a water storage tank) with a very cute pool boy.

All this to say, SewellFam2 should never have to be thirsty and the toilets should always flush at Casa Luna Azul.  Right?  We have water everywhere!

To quote my favorite Mexican border crossing agent, "we are having some problem Senora".  One day in a wild confluence of bad juju, the city water main broke, I accidentally filled the pool from the potable water hose bib while Tony was watering the membrillos orchard from the aljibe.  We went from hydrated to thirsty in four short hours.  And it lasted for three days.

In trying to sort out the problem, Evdad went out to check the large tinaco.  Several days after resolution, he happened to mention to me it had quite a bit of algae in it.  From that moment on, every time I drank water all I could taste was swamp.  Ev pointed out at least a hundred times that I had been drinking the same water for a month and never mentioned swamp before, but whatever.  Mama was not happy.  Happily, it turns out, Mexico has invented tinaco cleaners.  I hired one to come out-he was a jolly stout guy with his hired hand: a kid the size and shape of a piece of bacon.  They got to work with a pressure washer and a scraper-the bacon strip kid was lowered into the tinaco. He hand bailed the algae with a bucket.

I was on the porch watching from afar.  I asked Ev, "What the heck? Are we paying Tony (our gardener) to watch the tinaco guy all day?"  Wisely, he said, "Let him do his thing and stay out of it." Unwisely, I jumped up to go see what was going on.  Tony saw me coming down the driveway and intercepted, holding up his arms.  "You don't want to go down there", said he.  

Let me preface the next picture by saying nothing, and I mean NOTHING, goes to waste down here. What came out of the tinaco, we used in the compost pile.  There is something to be grateful for in every situation.  But yuck.  Tony carted up at least 10 times this.

What we learned:  Tinacos should be cleaned annually.  Ours probably had not been done since the house was built.  Learning curve was steep that week.

Coming up next: meat in Mexico.

Something for Everyone

A veeeery slow road where I could ride with the windows down and hi five the schoolkids, watch the mamas hanging wash on the fence and smell the smells of people cooking lunch on open fires in front of their houses:

A smooth road where Evdad could crank up Stevie Ray Vaughn really loud, eat peanuts and drive really fast:

Geothermal activity to wonder about:

Geothermal activity to soak in:

Horses to ride confidently:

 Stupid horses that try to bite you when you whisper in their ear that you've always been a little afraid of their species but you feel like today might be the day you overcome that fear just a little because you know her name is Alicia and you have a friend named Alicia that is kind and wonderful and you just feel it in your bones today is going to be a good horse riding day and maybe she'll cut you some slack and not try to knock you off with a tree limb.

 No, I didn't fall off.  I just put myself down flat on the earth to try to fully absorb what was happening around me.  We were in a group of five who all knew how to be still and quiet.  We stayed still and quiet for hours.

In Mexico, monarch butterflies are thought to be departed souls.  In Michoacan, there is a magical place where migrating monarchs return every year around Dia de los Muertos.  They overwinter in the high altitude and in late February they begin mating rituals.  When its cool, they clump in the trees, conserving heat. The clumps get so heavy, tree branches sometimes snap under the weight. Check this out on the national geographic channel because I was so busy forgetting to breathe and clutching my hands on my chest I couldn't think about getting a good photo.  If you click on the picture, you can see the clumpage a little better.

When the sun peeps out from behind the clouds, the butterflies gently release themselves out of their clumps and swish around looking for their perfect partner.  Even I could hear the sound.  My words and pictures are not enough to do the experience justice.  I hope you get to go someday.

There was mechanics of butterfly sex to wonder about:

See the two black dots on the lower wings near the abdomen?  That means it's a guy butterfly.  He'll be dead soon.  Happy ending?  Guess it depends on who you ask.

I'm adding these pictures that I received from a new friend I met while on this trip.  She did a wonderful job of capturing the essence of the day.  Thanks, Sara Kearney!

 A butterfly of butterflies, can you believe it?

 Steep trail.  Poor horses.  Ev says he will walk it on his own two legs next time.

It's a Good Idea to say Yes, even if you're feeling timid.

 This adorable man is our veterinarian.  Ev and I met him one day when we were walking the streets just looking to see what we could see.  He has a little storefront that carries flea powder and chicken scratch-the birdseed caught my eye so we stepped in.  His young daughters were there, they showed off their English counting skills and bagged my birdseed for me.  Juan Carlos is a large animal vet, mostly taking care of cows and sheep and pigs but "of course, senora! I will come to your house and vaccinate your cat. And will you teach English to the people of my town?"(just like that)

We made arrangements for a home visit for 11am Saturday.  Like most men in the area, he works other jobs during the week.  On Saturday, eleven came and went.  Noon came and went.  The cat, Mancha, was locked in the house. My neighbor's Xolo dropped in for a pedicure and I was afraid Mancha would get spooked and miss her shots.  Mancha began to growl and moan at the door-one of the most horrific sounds I've ever heard.  I was just about ready to give up hope when finally, covered in mud, the vet arrived.  "The bull, senora? She ran off and what was I to do? I ran after her."  OK. Fine

After the shots and pedicure, we sat and talked about English lessons.  He can provide the place, I can provide the expertise.  As he left, and sort of as an aside or afterthought, Juan Carlos invited us to his house on Sunday for "a little food with a few friends".  And "my brother in law is the President of Ixtlahuacan, you should meet him."  He drew me a map.

When it came time to go, Ev chickened out.  Grudgingly, I went by myself.  Tough stuff.  I almost chickened out twice on the way there.  When I saw the venue, I really almost turned around.  Like many of the houses in my town, the street view is rough.  Juan Carlos spotted me and pulled me into his home, heart, family and friends.  In Spanish, he said, "I am busy and I apologize for not being able to attend to you but go with confidence (a little push) these are all friends here and you are welcome."

His darling daughter spotted me, grabbed my hand and said (in Spanish), "where is your husband?"  I told her he was embarrassed because he didn't speak Spanish, so he stayed home.  She said, "I could talk to him in English." "What could you say to him?"  A sly grin, and perfectly enunciated English, "teacher may I please go to the bathroom?"

This was borrega being cooked.  Some of the best food I have ever had in my life.  Seriously.  He also had a huge pan of ceviche on ice with tostadas to go with.  A vat of refried beans.  A vat of "jugo the borrega" which turned out to be simmered bones with lime and chile. Killer.  And then these guests making piles of tortillas faster than we could eat them:

We tried to entice Ev to come by sending him a picture of me in front of this big slab of dorado being grilled with pineapple, onion and peppers.  No go.

Open for Bidness

The roses are responding to a little fertilizer.

Fuchsia I bought last Sunday at the market for two dollars equivalent.

When I went to bed last night this whole branch was curled tightly into a ball the size of a salad plate.  It's been fun to watch it unfurl this morning.

It rained last night and birds are taking their bath on the pool cover puddles.

Membrillos, our bread and butter, are beginning to bloom.

Turtles sun on the edge of our aljibe but they haven't yet figured out I won't hurt them.  They don't stick around to pose.  The small bushes in the background are membrillos, the larger ones are pomegranates.

The casita.

Tomato seeds have sprouted their second set of leaves.

A volunteer in the garden-will be interesting to see what it is.

La Casa Grande

My sorry attempt at planting a "row".

Hilde, in her spot.

Kimble has him hooked.  Thanks, Elyse, for the book recommend.

Back to normal.  Motorcycle gear on the dining room table, exactly where I wish it wasn't.

Expecting the Unexpected

Dutifully, we read a lot online before we came down here: different riffs on the obligatory "What to Expect in Mexico" and a variety of articles listing "Ten Things that are Hard To Get Used to " The writers almost all list the same things: you have to ask for the check at restaurants, no one has change for any bills larger than $20, the noise in the 'hood is sometimes deafening (cohetes, bandas, geese, roosters and dogs), and Mexicans hate to disappoint you by telling you they are out of a certain item.  

No deal breakers, but interesting to see that most travel writers focus on the same ten items-and we've found them all to be true.  I've also had some weird personal challenges:

1.     I feel guilty my new adopted kitty, with a couple of deft swats, has installed herself firmly at the top of the pecking order.  She only gives eye contact if she feels like it.  We all live to serve the kitty.

2.     I've been a gardener all my life, but now I'm self-conscious planting seeds in front of Tony (the real gardener) as if I’m not doing it to his standard.  I tend to do scatter shot, he likes neat rows.  Lettuce and spinach are coming up in neat rows...

3.     When I have a piece of trash in my hand, I anxiously go to the chart on the fridge to try to figure out where to put it.  Does the bacon plastic go in my container of used condoms and syringes or the container with my used Kleenexes or the container that holds the fish heads with little crosses where his little eyes used to be?  I’m so confused!  Last week, the trash men  REJECTED my trash because it wasn't sorted correctly.  Tony (the real gardener) went through the trash to fix our mistakes. Ugh!

That said, the delights of Mexico are myriad.  There is lots of unexpected grace and there have been many kindnesses shown to us. Our Mexican neighbors are delightful and we've found our tiny town has embraced us. 


Natural beauty is everywhere inside my four walls.

Hilde surveying her yard:

I can’t complain that the flocks of colorful birds and hummers eschew sugar water and seed (offered on crystal plates!) in favor of the natural bounty in the yard.  And the weather! Oh, man! 

“Excellent weather at affordable prices”, Evdad likes to say.