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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