It's been five days since my last post from Merida, and today was my first day back at work. Depressingly, it was like I never left. I won't go into detail, but all the reasons I don't feel I can ever be successful there are still present. The plans and objectives just don't seem to fit the reality I observe.

Not that we've doing so well in our own plans and objectives. If you recall, the last plan called for us to head to Wyoming for a time-out at my sister's place - to be followed by a meandering journey to Mexico via Nogales and Sonora, then Jalisco and possibly beyond.

What has become apparent is that it just isn't possible to commit to a journey straight through to Mexico, via Wyoming or any other way. The logistics and the financial and emotional commitment this requires just won't materialize. We started focusing on a "Plan B" scenario of relocating to Denver. Buying a house there and settling in for a few years, with continued employment (IT? Home Depot?) and acceptance of the cold winters. Maybe vacations to Mexico.

Then - as of today - we came up with a new approach to the situation. We go ahead and pack up everything here, and put it in short-term storage. Then, we head for Wyoming - maybe picking up a little tent pop-up travel trailer along the way in Portland. We use Wyoming as a base and find a house to buy in Denver. A low-maintenance high-appreciation-potential house in a very nice neighborhood. We buy it, and go back to arrange shipping to Denver of our remaining stuff in California. We move in, get the place set up for basic living, then, as winter approaches, we start the big road trip to Mexico and Merida. I send ahead the rent money to hold our place with Sonny until we can arrive - maybe a few months later than expected.

Meanwhile, we both seek future contract work in Denver. Our hope is that we might work the spring, summer, and fall months in Denver, then winter in Merida. We MIGHT be able to do contract work from Merida as well - if we can get high-speed Internet at the house.

So we have the best season in Denver, and the best season in Merida. The place in Merida can probably be sublet while we are in Denver (we might even buy it and rent it directly). The house in Denver can probably be looked after by a caretaker roomate or tenant. The Denver place is likely to be a good investment given their real estate market, which appears to have been depressed compared to the rest of the sunbelt and western states. It's currently a buyer's market.

So that's today's plan. Check back tomorrow for the the next evolution. Who knows, maybe this won't even change.

One thing's for sure - leaving here - house, job, and all - is NOT a mistake.


Denver skyline behind one of many parks.

Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

Sonny, our landlord, in cocina economica 'El Capeon' (The Champion)and his mesero (waiter) Don Alberto.

This is the last day here for now. I have a pretty bad cold, and really should get some rest for the trip home, and all that awaits there.

I did want to make another trip out to the big mall North of town where I saw good road atlas for the upcoming trip. Had a little trouble finding the bus for the trip due to bad advice, and when I found it I got a cray driver who went REALLY fast while watching a small B&W television wedged between the dash and his side window. Nice and loud too with arguing talk show guests. Just the thing for a sinus headache.

I got the pictures uploaded from the neighborhood where the rental house is located. They are linked to below with description lines...

This is a view down calle 94 from the corner of calle 59. It shows the street to be pretty clean.
This is a litle park in the neighborhood. Looks a place for kids to play mostly.
This is a meat, poultry, and fruit market a block away. Closed when the photo was taken.
This is a hardware store that seems to have a lot of stuff in stock for the tiny size. A block away.
There are several wonderful vegetable gardens in the neighborhood. We hope they will sell to us, because the grocery store vegetables are horrible.
Another nice vegetable garden.
Maybe this actually has some effect - the whole area is for the most part unusually tidy. Says "Think of your family - don't toss trash here." In general, no one gives a thought to tossing trash anywhere they happen to be. Usually there are people working day and night who pick it all up. It's hard to find a trash receptacle.

There are a lot of other small businesses in the area as well - a panaderia (bakery), a cantina or two, and lots of tiny tendejons and occasional semi-public kitchens. There are also building supply places and a small cement block factory - nice since we will probably need some to raise a backyard wall.

Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

I did something today I should have done ten days ago - went out with Mañuel and bought a nice hammock for about $18 and hung it from the hooks in my old room. It is WAY more comfortable than the matress and sheet because of the horrendous heat and humidity. There is a reason the huge majority of native Yucatecans sleep in a hammock under a ceiling fan.

This also resolves a small dilemna for what Pat and I will do when we arrive here to a completely unfurnished house. No bed or mattress...no problem. I already have a traditional Yucatecan hammock (unused) at home from a previous trip here. Today I bought the sigas (special ropes used to hang the hammock from the wall hooks in every room here) and S hooks for both hammocks along with the new one in the photo.

I had lunch at El Campeon , Sonny's place with Sonny and Don Alberto the mesero today as usual, and we talked a little more about the fix-up we want to do on the house he's renting us. I found a perfect example of a kitchen re-do that will be functional, traditional, and cheap. Here are before and (probably) after photos:



Tomorrow I'll publish another cataolog of pictures of the neighborhood around the new house. It's a fantastice place - everything is nearby and it's a clean friendly neighborhood. There's a hardware store, a panaderea (bakery), two tortilla mills, pretty complete groceries, cheap restaurants, a bar, building materials....all with a block or so of the house. There is also a stop from and to the center of town half a block away for the 15-minute trip.

One of odd things about the neighborhood is the large number of mariachis located along calle 59 lust around the corner. For some reason most of the mariachis (there are a LOT) have places with their signs out from along a stretch of this street. I believe they live in these houses, but they all have signs out front as well. Some day I will catalogue them all with photos. Today, there was a mariachi standing on the sidewaly outside his house, practicing. Had we been sitting out on our balcony, we aould have heard him quite clearly.



Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

This entry is really just to upload some photos of the rental house we're probably going to be in for a while.

Above is the front from across the street. Others are linked to below...

View from street up to balcony with door to hall.
Other view from street up to balcony with left side showing wraparound.
Larger version of picture at top of post from across street.
View of front from corner of 94 and 59.
Closer view of front.
View of driveway from front door.
View of horrid trow-away kitchen.
View out upstairs bath window of back yard.
Back right (facing out) corner of balcony.
View from bedroom window out front left of balcony (facing out) with Sonny and Mañuelito.
View along left side of house from back of balcony wrap-around.
View from balcony near hall door - think this NW.
View up hall on 2nd level toward balcony.
Bedroom window to balcony.
Front bedroom closet (yes, closets!).
Upstairs bath.
Downstairs bath.
Stairs to first level with weird little landing.

Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

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Hospital a few blocks from the new house.
Pictures of the new house and neighborhood soon.

My arrival to have a look around the new neighborhood began on an auspicious note, with a background of sky behind it as I approached of towering cumulonimbus clouds, backlit by the setting sun and contrasting with the azure sky. They seemed filled with flames and embers as they appeared to be more illuminated from within than from behind.

The streets are lined with houses from less than modest (and a few unihabitable, which really means rubble here) to quite grand and immaculately maintained. There are a few Mayan-looing thatched roof bungalows. There are sidewalks most places, and everywhere are children playing happily, adults sitting in groups of chairs outside, and various stages of teens in various size groups engaged in their conversations and rituals.

ALmost all homes are open up for the fresh evening breezes, so as you walk the neighborhood you catch glimpses into all the homes. People at tables talking or eating, in hammocks, watching TV, listening to music, reading the newspaper...all is revealed in small snippets as you pass by.

There are a lot of dogs lying around or walking lazily. One forlorne guy was lying noe to nose with his girlfriend who was behind a gate and out of his reach otherwise.



Just around the corner and a block away from the house are several tiendas with all the daily necessities, and a sweet little cocina with a couple of oilcloth-covered tables and a counter with two stools. There is no sign with a name, but a menu with all the familiar regional items and prices...salbutos and panuches for 3.5 pesos (about 31 cents). Two of these tortilla/bean/turkey/pickled onion goodies are a meal. An intriguing "comida casera" (home cooked food) for 20 pesos or around $1.80 promises some great regional item appropriate for the day of the week. A nice pan fried breaded fish on Friday and potage stew on Thursday for example.

There is also a neat little video rental store with a surprisingly big collection of VHS (2 for 12 pesos/$1.10) and DVD (15 pesos/$1.35) that is open until 10pm.

I took the bus out there - about ten minutes ride through the evening air with the windows open and that great music the bus drivers play on their stereos, followed by a ten minute walk past the modern hospital and old historic colonial prison. As usual, a study in contrasts.

I walked all the way back to Centro - about a 30 minute hike through interesting and safe streets. Just outside the new neighborhood, there is a large beautiful park with a big working fountain in the center. I asked some padies what the name of the park was. "Parque de la paz", they told me.

Park of the peace. I like it.


The video shop on Calle 59 X 96

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Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

Today I took some friends to see El Mago de Oz - a stage production by a state university in Merida. We were definitely NOT in Kansas. It was more a spin on the Broadway production The Wiz than the Judy Garland film version.

Oh, and the theme from that updated musical "..Get on down, get on down.." ends up being; "...Siguele, siguele, ahora..."


Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

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Just so we have a picture, for this post, I'll drop in one from my car collection - people do amazing things with their vehicles. Function, fancy...whatever. Above is the front of this fine truck conversion job, and below is the rear.

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More lessons learned daily. After all the painful and futile struggle to find and rent or buy a house, one has just fallen into our lap. All that was required was to cease struggling and grasping, and trust that everything would follow a natural course to the correct conclusion.

The little cocina economica next to Casa San Juan is run by the family of Sonny, who sort of runs the show there. I heard that he had a house to rent, but it weouldn't be available for two months or so. At the time this didn't fit my preconceived idea of our plans - which were to immediately head straight for here with no pause.

Once we decided to make the trip more leisurly and include a stop in Wyoming, the timetable began to match the Sonny's house availability. Still, it didn't occur to me to follow up. Then today, at lunch there the subject came up again and I told Sonny about our revised timetable. He suggested that we go have a look, after he closed the place. So Mañuel and I and a couple of other guys piled in Sonny's car and off we went. I wasn't even sure where it was, what it was like, or what it cost.

It's in a nice neighborhood away from the frantic pace of Centro, a nice two story house with a covered parking area behind a locking fence, with a second floor balcony in front of the bedrooms. A patio behind. Nice garden and plants, an orange tree and a lime tree. The rent? Well, without naming an amount, if we took the proceeds from the California house sale and pre-paid it all as rent, we could live there for just about five hundred years.

I haven't seen the inside or the patio yet, but we will make this work somehow, I'm sure. Next up - a visit to the neighborhood for a good walking around and talking to neighbors.

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Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

This is an odd local event - ever since I arrived I have been seeing posters everywhere for a big meditation event in Centro. Sant Thakar Singh (above) will be the featured presenter. I have to go see how this shapes up...its free and close by.

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Last night while I was hammering out a few items on the way home at a late-night Internet cafe it really started to pour. I decided to stay put and write some more while I waited for it to stop. Three hours (at 2:30am) r it still hadn't, so I waved down a cab for the eight-block trip back to the casa. The streets were flooded to a depth of more that a foot in most places, and hot dog vendors, street sweepers, and other late night denizens were slogging through the mess with their carts, half way to knee deep with their short legs.

When I arrived at San Juan, I found the place inundated from the continuing downpour, and my room had about a half inch of standing water from edge to edge. There was nothing on the floor, so no cause for alarm - I just dried off my feet with a towel before hoisting them into bed, and slept to the sound a roaring water cascading off the roof through the big drains outside my screened open doors to the courtyard.

This morning I helped Mañuel mop and squeegee out various parts of the house. Place got a good mopping.



Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

Just a few random happenings and sightings of the past day or so...

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There is a grand restored art deco theater in the center of Merida, where many theatrical events as well as films are available. There is a large poster in the lobby now for a performance by a Mexican comic who does standup character comedy. The promotional text says in part..."para cargarse de risa". This translates roughly to "..you'll fall down laughing." However, the first 'r' is very small compared to other letters, and is elevated above the line of text. This leaves the impression that it says "...para cagarse de risa". This changes the meaning to "...you'll shit yourself laughing."

So much for the fabled Yucatecan propriety. Lost out to the Mexican love for word play and sardonic humor.

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I was riding a bus yesterday, and once again admired the style and individualism of each bus. These are poublic conveyances, but all manner of modifications for comfort, entertainment, and spiritual reassurance are to be found and appreciated. This day's bus had a fine salsa-playing cassette player mounted with velcro to a plywood shelf, and a veritable transit-chapel on the driver's overhead area across the entire width of the bus. A shrine on either side with saints illuminated by little vintage automotive lights, and a central larger altar for the sainted Virgen of Guadalupe, bathed in the soft red glow of what looked to be 1961 Chrytsler Imperial bullet taillights.

Oh, and just beneath the side-saints are Bart Simpson decals with his bare ass hanging out and "kiss this" captions.

Then, today when I was in a cab to escape a tropical cloudburst, I admired an elaborate crucifix constructed entirely of toothpicks. No wonder no one wears seat belts here, with all this protection. Most belts are inoperative anyway, and you feel foolish struggling to operate them, so soon abandon the practice.

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I was in a small poor neighborhood park, on the hottest of days. I was chatting with a sweating walrusy older gentleman, and asked him who was the man immortalized as a large bronze head mounted on a pedestal at the end of the park. "Oh" he answered matter-of-factly wiping his brow with his forearm, "That's Benito Juarez - he is greater than George Washington, you know."

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I was in a big 'Super Kmart' sort of store today checking things out for future reference, and as I wandered the aisles, I noted that they were playing over the store audio system the entire Beatles 'Magical Mystery Tour' album (Too young to remember? Que triste...). There was a middle-aged Mexican guy next to me picking out yoghurt, singing along in English the words to 'All You Need is Love".

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You've no doubt heard the expression "dirt poor". Friday while I was walking near the cemetery I heard a call I couldn{t quite make out repeated every five seconds or so, along with the 'clop-clop' of horse hooves. I looked around and there was a cart drawn by a little horse, and the guy pulled over to me, and asked if I wanted to buy some...dirt. His cart was loaded with sacks of dirt. The call had been "tierra.........tierra........" When I told him I didn't live here (yet) and couldn't use any dirt right at that moment, he gave me an easy alternative by suggesting that instead I buy him a refresco (soda). Which I did, gladly. Later I heard his call again, and he clopped by, soda in hand, and we waved at each other.

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Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

Well, there's nothing to chase away a grave depression like an hours-long visit to a cemetary. But only one filled with Mexican graves. Who could feel troubled with angelitos following you with their gaze and colors powerful enough to vibrate your retinas.

I stumbled upon the cemetary by accident when I was scouting a nice neighborhood Pat looked at during his last visit. I stopped to buy my third liter of water (!) for the morning, and the nice old man asked about what I was doing in his decidedly non-tourist area - he immediately suggested a visit to the cemetary, which made me happy for the two-hundredth time this trip that at last I can converse with ordinary non-english speakers here.

So, you ask, what am I doing scouting neighborhoods when two days ago I was ready to swim to the shore of our sea of dreams? Well, the plan - if you can call it that - is a dynamic thing. That's buzzword speak for we don't exactly have our shit together. Here's what it looks like as of a few hours ago: As you know by now if you check in here, as of mid-July we will be homeless. Yes, we will be living out of the car with our dog, just like people who congregate near rail switchyards and down by the river outside the city limits. I envision us going at a leisurly pace to Wyoming first, where we will have a decompression time-out at my sister's and her husband's ranch. Maybe a week or so. Then, we will have a meandering tour of the sunbelt area below on our way to the Mexican border, where eventually we will cross at Nogales. Along the way, we will scout potential live/work sites where we COULD buy a house and stay (probably after a retreat from Mexico) while working a few more years. Doing.....something I guess.

Once in Mexcico, we'll go down along the East coast of Baja through Sonora, on to Guadalajar and beyond. How far? Maybe not even beyond. Maybe on to Morelia. Maybe - I hope - to Yucatan and Merida. Because you see, I haven't really given up. I'm not actually even close to giving up. I may panic at times and want to click my heels three times for the Ruby Slipper express back home (more on the Oz theme coming up), but once I am able to calm myself, this is still what I perceive to be the best place on the planet in many respects.

The only real change from the plan we had when I came down here is that now, I am not driven to rent a plce righ now for our eventual arrival, and we will not need to ship all our (few remaining) belongings down before we leave our California house. We don't need to rush down here with an aggressive road trip.

Instead, we will go stop in Wyoming, and take our time. We'll try to outfit the trip better for more comfort on the road. We'll see how things unfold, and evolve a plan as we go. If everything goes well, we'll eventually pull into Merida around early to mid-September, and just find a short-term vacation renatl at the beach, which by that time will be in off-season (people here all book houses at the coast for the hot months of June-August). Then, in our furnished beach house, we'll hunt for a longer term Merida rental to base ourselves as we hunt for the house to buy and then renovate it to livable condition (an almost certain requirement since we want an old colonial house with decrepit systems). Finally, we move into the new house, I become a profitable writer and recognized painter, and Pat is off on the next house restoration project.

Sound simple doesn't it? Right. You try it.

The net of all this is that we really aren't all that off track. Hopefully, we won't end up in el cemetario, con todo mis amigos muertos que yo conocí esta tarde.



How interesting - this buddhist thought arrived in my mailbox today...


Fleeting is this world
Growth and decay its very nature
Things spring to being and again they cease
Happy the marvel of them and the peace.


More images from the cemetary here, here, and here.




Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

...Uhhh, it's very nice but we prefer a house not on a corner....

I guess it's been a few days since I posted anything. I'll provide a general update then a few sketches of things I've run across.



The whole rental/purchase process has gone from a little frustrating to barely tolerable. The vulturous market for houses here makes the process sort of frantic, with people rushing around answering cell phones like they were marketing tract homes in a hot Las Vegas development. I don't really understand some of the tax-related aspects of the transactions here, and they make me uncomfortable.

As a result of all this, and a close call with renting a dreary bad-karma-laden house we've take to calling the Little Shop of Horrors (LSOH), we have revisited the whole advance commitment to an immediate arrival here after the California house sale closes.

I couldn´t sleep for hours last night when I awoke around 1:30, paralyzed with the realization that we couldn´t go with the original plan, but unable to replace it with any better. Finally a different scenario began to materialize, where we complete the house sale (probably couldn't stop it anyway) and leave in the Xterra loaded with nice camping gear for....wherever. To arrive....whenever. And stay....however long.

Probably first to Wyoming to see my sister for a while. Camping along the way wherever. Then maybe scout some Sunbelt locations for possible semi-retirement or work/live in the States. Then (I guess) cross the border to Mexico, and on the Guadalajara and...wherever. Staying at places along the way a day, a week, a month....

We have to store the things we were going to ship to Merida, and if we decide to live in Mexico as our adventure unfolds, I will go back to California, rent a car, and get the stuff approved for a Menaje de Casa (Mexican immigratrion shipping document) and arrange the drop off at the shipper.

Yesterday when I was walking the neighborhood of LSOH when I came upon an old man working on the worst piece-of-shit car I´ve ever seen anyone devote effort to. It would have been an emabarassment in a parts junkyard. He was under the hood, shirtless in the hundred-degree heat with black grease and oil almost up to his shoulders. I felt so bad for him, and his pathetic struggle. I didn´t have the heart to photograph him.

Today I walked to a wonderful neighborhood San Sebastian, and from there to a tiny interesting neighborhood Vicente Solis. I think if we ever do make it here to live, these are the kinds of places where we need to house-hunt. Centro is just too much of everything - prices, noise, traffic, preening ex-pats, dirt...

The photo below from Vicente Solis shows what house demolition looks like here. Looks like fun work to do in tropical heat and humidity, no?




Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

Monday night I went to the English library for a night when people come for English practice. It's a good opportunity to meet local people from all walks of life, and they insist on help with your Spanish as well. At our table of six or seven people they had me speak Spanish exclusively and they all spoke English - with lots of good natured corrections all around. There were at least four table with as many or more people, so this is a pretty popular event. Definately a regular thing to set aside time for.

People there as elsewhere want to know why I am quitting my work and doing all this. It's a lot to explain. Maybe later.

Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

Boy, today was pretty rough. One of those crushing depressions that always seem to occur during therse trips - this one especially bad because instead of fantasizing about the return home to normalcy and familiarity there is the fact of the sale in contract. Time to suck it up and march forward. Best to be careful about rest and stay away from alcohol in this situation. Mental (and other) health is pretty important in times of stress.

Speaking of stress, I decided to give myself a break and save a long mid-day walk in the heat by catching a bus back for a lunch and siesta at the guest house. So I jumped on a likely-looking bus and found myself being diverted (with no opportunity to exit) right into the middle of the mid-day chaos and frenzy of the mercado again. Sheesh. Wish I had just walked from where I started.

After my siesta this afternoon I saw the house we want to rent today inside...it occured to me last night after I saw it from the outside during the day that I was actually in that house once a couple of years ago when I visited the woman who lived there. Small world...

It's a nice place, and when I find an Internet cafe with a better PC I'll edit this post with a photo of the exterior. I can picture us being comfortable there right from the outset, as it is furnished and looks really clean. It's just being vacated by the current resident so the timing is perfect.

It looks like there are a lot of houses coming on the market, so hopefully we will find one to work on shortly after we arrive. I almost tried to push for a signing into a contract to buy a nice house I saw yesterday, but I really want Pat to be a part of the whole assessment and decision.

Meanwhile, back in California he is busy handling the inspection contingencies for the house sale. Sounds like that{s going pretty well, and we are still careening toward the day we depart for the 3200 mile journey to the border, then Merida beyond.


Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

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Each one of these trips is a series of manic and depressive episodes for me. There are things that really inspire and reaffirm the wisdom of pursuing this scheme, and then there are periods of loneliness and despair over things that don't go as well as they are expected to or hoped for.

At home in California, I like to stay put at the house for days at a time, relaxing with the dog and being around all the familiar comforts of home. Here, it's a constant series of activities and challenges, on the go almost all of the time with not enough sleep and erratic nutrition. Lots of stressful encounters with various people and situations.

Today I got a pretty good lead on a rental house, and got a little excited over a house for sale that hasn't been marketed yet that seemed promising and fairly priced. On closer inspection though, it seems like such a big project with so many variables that I decided not to pursue it on my own with just a few photos and a floor plan sketch for Pat via email. We really need to both be here for this to happen.

I also got soaked in a steady rain that followed some impressive thunder and lightning late in the afternoon.

If I get the rental wrapped up, that really won't leave me too much to do for the rest of the time here. Maybe it's time to sit down somewhere and read a book.

Or two.



Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

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Well, today could pass for a collection of all the reasons why moving to Merida makes sense. I suffered a bit in the extreme heat, but I think I actually complain less than the Yucatecans.

Early this morning I met my friend Enrique and we went over the newspaper classifieds to check out rentals and houses for sale in one favored neighborhood. We called a few and lined up appointments. All were disappointing, but the experience was valuable nonetheless. Yesterday I saw about six houses with a realtor (one is above - nice but a big project) but none were compelling enough to move on during this visit. It is making more sense now to just find a rental and get us both moved down here so we can both look together. There are a lot of compromises involved in choosing a house, and it would be SO much better to do it together.

So off we went today, in the worst of the mid-day heat. Looked at the funky houses, walked around a bit, then decided to run for home (and lunch, and a shower, and a siesta) and come back late Monday in a cooler part of the day. We took a cab out, but rode a bus back - what a ZOO...approaching Centro traffic clogged, horns blared...the streets were choked with cars and sidewalks with people. We finally disembarked in the middle of the market district, with all the chaotic noise, smells, and riotous sights. We struggled to make our way through the maze of activity, and somehow along the way bought a cantaloupe, a watermellon, a mango, and a backpack.

Reaching home, we got a cold drink, cleaned up a little, and went next door to the cocina economica "el campeon". We chose the chile rellenos con queso - the best I have ever had...two of them swimming in bowl of cream sauce swirled with red chile. We took the rellenos out of the bowl and laid them on the plate the bowls were served on, where they could be sliced into bites to fold into the tortillas from the big stack, and dipped in the rick broth. The rest of the sauce was spooned up as a rich sopa de crema. Que rico!

WHile we were eating, a couple of guys walked in with guitars. One led the other, who was wearing Ray Charles shades, and for the same reason. I had my doubts about how this would turn out...then they began to play. What perfect clear voices, and pure harmony. Refined guitar work from both, nuanced and emotionally powerful, as were their voices. And this in the most humble of holes-in-the-wall with a few plastic tables and chairs. Aftyer they played for us and they received a few coins from the patrons, they retreated to the back half of the loncheria where they continued playing for the cooks and waiters, who sang (not as well I'm afraid) along with them for a while.

Then we retired back to the house next door, where we showered and sacked out for a couple of hours under the ceiling fan.

This is how you make lemonade out of the relentless blazing lemon in the sky here.

Then, after awakening and my third shower of the day, it was time to get ready for a benefit cocktail party at the home of the American Consul. She is a friend of a friend of mine, and is sympathetic to the cause of the local AIDS hospice, for which the benefit was held.

What fun! Another friend who was a co-sponsor was responsible for the deadly mai-tais the waiters were passing around. Cuidado! Peligrosso! They were VERY powerful. As I said after one of these to a friend nearby.."Supongo que no es muy educado vomitar en la piscina de la consulado de los estados unidos..." (I suppose it would not be very becoming to barf in the pool of the consul...) So I switched early to water y otros refrescos. Besides, some of the guys in attendance had already demonstrated some pretty bad behavior the night before at an event at the English Library we all attended. At least they (all local Yucatecan boys) were a little more reserved in the grand mansion of the consul (with a string quartet borrowed from the Merida Symphony no less!!!)

Then a wild ride back to centro with one of the realtors who was kind enough to save me the cab fare home. He ran a pretty red light, and we were whistled to a stop by an irate traffic cop who was in the intersection. In spite of being a little woozy, and having an expired drivers license, our driver was let off after a thorough inspection of all his auto paperwork and an explanation of his activities for the evening with a gentle admonishion to exercise more caution in the future. No ticket, no "mordida". So that's my cop story so far.

Good cop.


Text © 2003-2004 Stanley J. Wolf

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Por fin...

After all the months of medical uncertainty and struggles to prepare the California house for marketing, to finally arrive in Merida ready to buy or rent a house feels like such a triumph. While recent events have made me forever humble in the face of the vagaries of fate, I'll allow myself a moment of glory. As the sign on the wall of a cantina I passed says, "Vivir es un placer"...Life is a pleasure. Here they really can get away with making a statement like that, in that way.

Usually it takes us only a few days to wish we were back in California. With temperatures hovering around a hundred during the day, I expect this will be the case again, but soon there will be no more place to return to. Guess I'd better find a place here to call home, and soon.

There was a last minute panic last night when I couldn{t find an ATM card I was counting on using to make periodic peso extractions here. It seemed to become the locus of all my accumulated anxiety over the imminent departure and two week absence from (what's left of) home. When I finally found it, all those worries seemed to wash away, and today I awoke relaxed.

The BART ride to SFO, checkin, security, and flights to Houston then Merida when uncommonly tranquil. I was even able to switch seats to a roomy exit row on both segments, and edible meals were served both times. Usually I refer to airline offerings as "food".

The guy who is in contract to buy our house wants virtually all the furniture, which we will happily sell him for a small fraction of what it cost. This would mean that when the day arrives for escrow to close, we will simply walk out the front door of our familiar still-furnished house and drive off into the sunset. Strange.


Casa San Juan - my room is on the left side of the courtyard.

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