setfreeinmexico.com

View of Captive Lake from the Cabin

Bruce and Mary are putting together a strategy for a lifestyle adjustment, and no they are not leaving paradise but they are looking to maximize all the good things in their lives. Please press on loyal reader and see how this strategy goes. For you email subscribers that would like to go to Bruce’s site to read this post, please click here.

Just as I was getting ready to log off from work, while munching on a tuna fish sandwich, I mentioned to Mary how our lives, today, would have been impossible to predict 3 years ago when this escape to Mexico was still just a dream. Here we are house-sitting a small mansion of a Spanish Colonial casa in the heart of Merida, Cultural capital of the Americas for the year 2000,  only 36 kilometers from the beach and we both are working jobs that we love (moderating comments for a Canadian News Website) from our computers, poolside. And another cool thing about our jobs is that our fellow moderators are, for the most part, our Merida and Minnesota friends. With our incredibly low cost of living and our moderating jobs we are, believe it or not, enjoying a higher standard of living than at any time in our old lives.

But, we want more! Yes we are feeling a little bit greedy but to completely sate ourselves we would have to spend the summers in Minnesota, where we would be closer to family and old friends and able to breathe the clean and fresh north-woods air. There is not a thing about MN in the winter time that I miss but we do miss the summers, in particular, the summers at the cabin.

Here are the hurdles we need to overcome:

1. Where do we live? Our St. Cloud house is leased out on a two year contract and hopefully in perpetuity.
2. Our house-sitting agreement, here, doesn’t allow for lengthy absences.
3. We face IRS issues working back in the States, again.
4. Transportation: We have not owned a car for two years.
5. Conventional health insurance in the States is not even close to affordable for us.

The health care issue is a thorny one but we think we have it worked out. Since we escaped back in February of 2008, we have been

Lipid Profile Performed by Clinica Merida

essentially “self insured” that is to say, without. But down here you can do that, with some luck thrown in. We’re reasonably healthy and the few meds we need are extraordinarily cheap down here. Our BP meds cost us each about $4/mo and my statin (for high cholesterol) runs about the same. With Mary’s diabetes, her test strips are actually cheaper on ebay than anywhere but insulin is about a third of the cost northwards and here you don’t need to spend a 100 bucks or so for a Doc visit to get that prescription. About the only drugs down here that require prescriptions are the class 3s. In fact for a medically self-directed person, Mexico is really cheap in that you can get virtually any lab work done without any Doc intervention. If you want a lipid profile, liver function, and CPK test done like I just recently did, all you gotta do is know how to ask for it. And talk about cheap, I got all the above tests done for about $60US which I paid by credit card. I got in and out of Clinica de Merida, without an appointment, in about 15 minutes and they had the results that afternoon.

And it’s not just lab work that is incredibly inexpensive but sophisticated tests are as well. I discovered this in the process of getting Mary off my back about checking on my health. You see I had an MCI (I hate the phrase heart attack) 6 years ago and the last time I really followed up on my heart health was over two years ago so I went to the cardiologist husband of Mary’s dermatologist (she had worried about a couple spots – benign) and had an EEG done during the checkup (total cost of the visit was $44US) and he suggested I line up an Echo Cardiogram. Now, ok gang, here is where I must come clean. We have a leg up on most folks down here in the fact that I have a sis-in-law, Lynn, an MD back in MN, who has generously agreed to be my virtual doc and she thought that the echo would be a good idea as part of the whole check-up strategy. So Mary called and made an appointment for me at Star Medica, Merida’s state of the art medical facility. The next day we taxied out there and after a little waiting I got in and had the echo done. The cardiologist on duty immediately did the written doctor talk interpretation (I scanned the translated report to Lynn for her opinion and… I’m going to live!) and I was presented with the test results complete with cool color pix. Down here, you own and keep track of all your records. The charge for this was $141US. Now that seems pretty cheap but when I did a little bit of Googling  just now I am really

Echocardiogram Results

impressed as it seems an echo at Abbott NW in the Twin Cities would run about $2250. Whoa! Well anyhow the above is just to illustrate how we have been able to self insure down here, but with the new lifestyle we’re trying to work out, what do we do to accommodate both worlds? This is what we came up with. This fall we are both signing up for the IMSS Mexican health care program which will cost us each about $150 for a year of coverage. This coverage includes all doc visits, hospitalization, and all meds, except for those events and meds relating to pre-existing conditions – coronary artery disease for me and Type I diabetes for Mary. But after one year on the plan even pre-existing is covered. So the strategy is to doctor up like crazy before we stay in MN for the summers and then either toss the dice and go without or we’ll contact the lovely Julieta Morales (my dentista Ana’s sis) and do as many of our friends have done and buy an international catastrophic health plan with a high deductible and no wellness care for about $170/mo for the both of us. We can afford that. So…we have cleared that hurdle.

Transportation. Hmmm, still working on that. I would love to buy a $1000 motorcycle (my motorcycle endorsement is still valid) but Mary has made it very clear that that is not an option. I will probably look into a rent-a-wreck car rental thing, if available, for the 3 months we’re back as I really don’t want to buy a car for 3 months a year. Any ideas, loyal readers?

The IRS. For those of you who read my post about filing taxes this spring you’ll remember that if you can satisfy the residency requirements of living abroad you have a $91,400 exemption from income taxes (not self employment taxes, the only relief from that for an American, no matter where in the world he lives, is no self employment or death, I am going to hold off on the second option). The residency requirement fits us to a tee, 270 days in said foreign country. And of course our jobs are completely portable, we can set up shop anywhere there is internet.

The house-sitting gig. We’ll we’re just going to have to give it up. To be frank, although this place is quite impressive it is kind of a pain

Our Good Friend Jaromey

to live in and keep up. And we have always loved the beach. So when the time gets a little closer we will put our favorite Francophone Ottowan, Jaromey, the Progreso property manager extraordinaire and close friend, on it. She tells us we can get a 1 or 2 bedroom house near the beach in the Progreso area for about 2-3000P about $160-$240/mo. We had contemplated paying 5000-6000P for a 3-4 bdrm so we could easily accommodate all three kids and spouses for X-mas 2011 and beyond but as Jaromey points out, why pay every month for all that capacity when we could rent a place like Casa Sol Mar, a beautiful property she manages (we stayed there with the Dyers in 2008) for the week or so the kids are down. Good point. When we get closer we will pin that down.

Where do we live in MN? Well, Mary’s mother, Harriet has just completed, with brother Bob’s immeasurable help a major renovation of the the family log cabin (where Helen and Caleb were just married) on semi-private Captive Lake, near Lake Mille Lacs, a famous MN walleye lake. This renovation has changed the cabin from a rustic summer abode to a modern, super comfortable lake home, without losing any of the charm. So we are hoping to make arrangements to spend summers there. A hang up is, this is a family cabin available to all of Harriet’s kids and their kids, who are all grown now. What we hope to do is much like what we do here, maintain the place and handle it like a hotel when others want to use it. In other words, we would have the place turnkey ready for the stay and then vacate. Upon our return we would do complete cleanup and laundry for our departed guests/family. And of course we’d pay utilities through the summers. We’re hoping this arrangement will pass the family council. We have already been putting bribes in place so we’re quite optimistic.

So this is our new definition of paradise – autumn, winter, and spring on the Mexican Gulf Coast, summers at a MN lake cabin. Really does it get any better than that?

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Bruce appreciates any fine tuning to his big ideas that you may have so please share. To make a comment, or view existing comments double click on the post title and scroll down. Hasta la vista, baby!

Mary en La Playa de Holbox

Greetings loyal reader! Please join Bruce and Mary as they celebrate Independence Day and Canada Day, Mexican style, with a trip to Holbox, La Isla de Pirates. BTW: Bruce web guru that he is (not!) has discovered that most of his subscribers get their latest posts via email and never visit the site. That is fine but by doing so you readers have no chance to add to Bruce and Mary’s vast fortune by clicking on the Google Ads. Bruce just checked and he has $30US to date and hopes to someday get to that magic $100 figure which will trigger Google issuing its first Bruce check. At the current rate this will happen in 2015. Maybe with your help, Bruce can get his first check in, oh say 2013 or 2012. So here is the plan, gang, when you get this post emailed to you, click on this hot link, SetFreeInMexico and then click those ads like crazy people. Muchas gracias, mis amigos, for your attention to this most crass of appeals. Oh, and one more thing on this subject. Many of you loyal readers make comments by replying to the post emails. By actually going to the site you can share your thoughts and opinions with the whole world wide web! And now let the Holbox story begin!

We have been hearing about Holbox the Pirate Island for a while now and with the quirk in our work schedule for our Canadian employer (Thursday and Friday off work as July 1st is Canada Day) we decide to take advantage of these unplanned days off with a trip to Holbox. So we scout car rentals and check maps and at noon on Thursday, July 1st we head out in our agency’s base rental, a VW Pointer, sin clima, without A/C (I am such a cheap sucker).

Mohan (Tel World Travel Agency), the car rental guy is right, taking Av. Perez Ponce at Walmart to Av. Aleman will take you directly to Hwy 176 and to Tizimin, the second largest city in Yucatan and the halfway point to Holbox which is NW of Cancun. And everything has been going so swimmingly, we’d been enjoying the change of scenery from low scrub jungle to higher jungle surrounding acres and acres of pasto, pasture, supporting the countless Ranchos. And we’d been enjoying the names, like Rancho de Sacrificio (not going near there during any Mayan high holiday) and the road signs are great, as well. Our favorite is, No Manaje Cansado, Su Familia Se Espera, Don’t drive while asleep, your family will wait for you.

But our happy go lucky traveling quickly comes to an end when Hwy 176 disappears into a one way road that dumps us off at a glorieta (roundabout) at Tizimin’s central plaza. The open highway had signs every kilometer it seemed like but now there are none. We circle the glorieta and exit heading the right way, we think, but soon we are hopelessly lost on a road heading out of town, the wrong way, we think. We stop at a minisuper to get some water and ask directions and we are assured that we are heading the right way and we congratulate ourselves on being so lucky but soon a sign does appear, Rio Lagartos 88km. We know instantly that this is not the right road so we turn around and about 3 sets of directions later we are on Hwy 27 heading towards Colonia Yucatan, the right direction. This drive is starting to get long and the ranchos, once a welcome break from the normal Yucatan scenery are losing their charm when finally we find ourselves in Chiquila, the port city serving Holbox. Yea!!

We take the first right turn off the glorieta at the foot of the pier and find Don Patricio’s parking lot (Mary had read about this dude

Cantadore Miguel and Bruce

in a blog) and we quickly park where the old guy waves us, grab our gear and hoof it to the tix office on the pier. Only to be 5 minutes late for the ferry and sure enough we can see it just a couple hundred meters out making its way to the low shadow on the horizon that is Holbox. Ok, it’s 5:05 and the next ferry is not until 7, what to do? Dumb question, there’s a cantina over there, right on the beach! We mosey over and grab a table next to the house cantadore who is crooning away on his way out of tune guitar with his buddies, including the owner, keeping him company. We order a litro of Sol for 35P and relax. It is hot and humid, the salt from sweat is gritty on my shoulders, but the beer is cold and the view is fantastic. Miguel the cantadore introduces himself and sings us some songs but he will not take a tip, he is retired at 62 and this is what he does, hanging with his buds, soaking the suds, and telling stories in between songs.

Suddenly it is 6:30. We grab our stuff and head to the tix office and board the 66 passenger Ferry (it is air conditioned, que bueno!) and quickly we shove off. In about a ½ hour we are moored at the Holbox pier and there are number of “taxi”s, golf carts ready to haul visitors. We have read that there are no cars on the island which we find to

The Holbox Pier

be mostly true. One cabbie hollers, “Veinte pesos, solos veinte pesos”. Hmm that ain’t bad, about a buck 60 for a cabbie. We start quizzing him about accommodations (we had arranged for none, which is why we were bummed to miss the 5:00 ferry as now the sun is setting) and sure, he says, there are lots of places on the beach and cheap. As we are exiting the pier a gringo-looking dude approaches us and we listen to his spiel: A house this night for 500P (about $40US) and a cabana the next for 300. Hmm, sounds interesting. We tail him in his personal golf cart for a mile or so and then we pull into his little complex behind an abandoned hotel/restaurant. We debark and our cabbie is happy to wait to see if this place agrees with us. We walk into a garden area with several hammocks strung, one occupied by a very relaxed but high tech (laptop on a stool next to him) local and we are shown the common baths for the cabanas and then the “house”. It is a very large cabana with a second bedroom in the loft and a full kitchen. It is really cute and more importantly it is now dark and a little tough to do much more hotel shopping. “We’ll take it.” we tell Dave the owner, a Swiss national who is in his 10th year of this project, named Ida y Vuelta, Go and Come Back. We shell out the 500P in cash, he takes our first names verbally, gives us the key and that is that.

We unpack some stuff but the main thing I want to do is take a dip in the Caribbean and cool off. We head directly to the ocean, about 150m away across the the road to the pier and I wade out into the shallow moonlit waters and dive under. Very nice, I needed that, and the sugar sand is one thing I do miss about the Caribbean. Mary shields me with a towel from passersby on a beach stroll as I

View From the Loft of Our "House"

change back into shorts and tank top and we walk the beach road to Centro about 600m away. It is a quaint area with a skinny main street with lots of personal golf carts and taxis bouncing by on this dirt road. There seem to be equal numbers of locals, gringos, and Europeans. We spot a minisuper and find that we still have an hour and a half to stock up on beer and wine for the night and right across the street is a roof top joint called Restaurante TikiTiki. What draws my attention is the whiteboard out front with 2×1 Piña Coladas scrawled on it. Man, I love Piña Coladas, “Let’s check this out, Mary!”

We walk up the stairs and see a table of a pair of good looking, young couples hablando, talking, in Español and sitting right under the lone ceiling fan on this very warm and humid night but that is okay as we make our way to a table overlooking the street. Tomás approaches and presents his menu and practices his English with us as we do the same with our Español. We order up a beer for Mary and my first Piña Colada, complete with a dash of nutmeg and it is excellent! Que Bueno!

Fish and Pasta at Restaurante TikiTiki

Mary looks over the menu and chooses the pasta garlic dish and I see Pescado Chenchado. I ask Tomás what kind of fish dish this is and he explains that the chef’s name is Chencho and this is his style. Ok, I’ll take it and I am rewarded with couple of tasty fillets done fairly close to Vera Cruz style, only better. Mary’s pasta? Not so hot unfortunately. We have another beer and Piña Colada and enjoy the roof top view of the action on main street below us and when the check comes it is 250P, with tip 300P, about $24US.

On the way back to our “house” we check out a number of hotels and resorts along the beach road (the ones that still have open recepciones) and find that the best deal is a room at the Mawimbi resort right on the beach and pretty fancy looking. The gal who tells us to check back tomorrow says it appears we could have a room for 900P, about $72 which sounds workable.

We head back along the beach road on the way to our little complex and it is so dark. We aren’t used to that, living in the big city of Mérida. We make our way around the cabanas and into our unit and put our beers and wine into the fridge and then park ourselves, after a good hosing down of bug spray, at a little table outside out door and fire up a Cohiba. It is still hot and humid and I strip down to my skivvies in the dark. I have no luck in talking Mary into cooling off in the same fashion. We finally hit the sack about midnight and the fan doesn’t quite cut it and it is a rather sleepless night for the both of us.

I’m out and about shortly after dawn, trying to find some coffee and I bump into Dave the owner and I tell him that we will be checking out. Old farts that we are, we need a private bath, a cabana with common baths just won’t cut it. It’s kind of too bad because this place is really cool, our kids would probably love it. Dave is very nice and offers to store our stuff if we cannot secure another place before 11 check-out.

Mary and I walk up to the beach road and right on the corner is La Iguana, a 9 unit hotel in 4 or 5 buildings surrounded by beautiful gardens which are home to zillions of Minnesota size mosquitoes. Our Meridano mosquitoes are pesky, hard to swat suckers but these are of the 1 quart capacity and when they completely cover your calves it doesn’t matter much if they are easy to swat. We jump inside the room and slam the door shut to find a very comfortable, clean, modern room with an absolutely gorgeous mini-split A/C unit in the wall right over the bed. And it works! This room is 500P about $40 and is definitely in the running but we want to check out some places right on the beach as well.

We fight through the mosquito horde to the beach road and start scouting. There are a number of nice resorts on the beach but pretty pricey as well, at least to us, running $150 to $220US/night. We stop in at the Mawimbi, again, and evidently there is some confusion as the unit available last night has suddenly gone from 900P to $120US. The switch in currency is almost more aggravating than the price hike. No thanks.

We’re at La Plaza Principal and there is a server hawking breakfast at his sidewalk cafe. This will work. And finally we get our coffee! We both have omelets and then we backtrack to the Ida y Vuelta to get our gear and we book our room at La Iguana. The lad in recepcion was right this morning, the bugs are not nearly as bad as we approach midday. It is hot and muggy and we both shower for the second time today and then we just lie under the mini-split, enjoying the cold air it is dumping onto us. And now to the beach but first we have to get supplies. We ask a couple locals for grocery stores as all we see are the mini-supers and they are expensive for beers. We finally get it through our thick heads that there are no grocery stores like Walmart or Issteys on the island, you have to go to Chiquila for that. All there are is smaller and larger supers. We stop in at the biggest one in the area which actually has produce, eggs, and even sundries, only to find that a 6 pack of Tecate is exactly the same price we paid last night, 75P. I do score the exact same wine, a Chilean Merlot for only 80P instead of the 100 last night, so yea for me, I guess. Now we’re ready for the beach.

Holbox Beach From In Front of La Iguana

We grab our portable chairs, cross the beach road and set up about 20 feet from the aquamarine colored surf. It is a perfect day, no clouds, and a cooling breeze but not so strong as to blow away our sun umbrella. First I take a cooling dip, stepping thru the seaweed that is washing up on shore. It collects in not so beautiful mounds and fingerlets that extend into the water and it doesn’t exactly add to the experience but the sugar sand bottom and cooling water (just barely cool enough) are certainly good enough for me. I rejoin Mary on the beach. We crack some beers and light up a Cohiba and bake.

A couple hours later, we are both well done so we pack up and head to Centro for an early dinner. This time we pick one of the big beach front restaurants a couple blocks from the heart of downtown. Fishing is the number one industry of this island, so there are lots of seafood entrees to pick from. With Mary’s strong encouragement I pop for the lobster (240P) and they offer it a number of different ways. Now I haven’t had lobster since before the days when you had to be a bank robber to afford it but I must tell you, it is my absolute favorite dish. Back in the 80s living in Alexandria, we used to regularly run out to the Fireside on Fridays when Sonny would offer his 6oz Lobster tail special for, get this, $5!

Back to the present: They offer about 4 treatments of lobster and the one I pick is a wine and mushroom dish (Thermidor). They

Bruce's Lobster and Mary's Chicken Cordon Bleu

carve the lobster out of the shell, mix it with this awesome wine and mushroom sauce and shovel it back into the split shell. It is incredible! But it made me realize, and I guess it has just been too long, that I love the taste of lobster so much that I should have ordered it simply Con Mantequilla, with butter, only. Que lastima! But I do not regret it. Mary has the best Chicken Cordon Bleu of her life, she says and it is good as I finish her dish in my usual fashion. Mary claims I married her because she could never finish her meals. We settle up with our server, Rolando, and once again we deal with the hidden propina, tip. As we have seen too often, the check has the total circled numerous times in pen through the tip amount, in an attempt to obscure it. But I reconcile the bill as I always do, spot it, and ask Rolando, propina incluida, tip included? Si, señor the embarrassed Rolando says, eyes darting. Well, as usual it is only 10% and, as I am feeling generous, belly full of Langosta, I give him an extra 5% and I make sure to tell him, por ti, Mas propina, for you, More tip.

Bruce, On his Swing

We make our way to the palapa bar between us and the beach because Mary really wants to finish our drinks sitting in the swings they use for stools and we do so listening to a couple of young Germans talking about the World Cup. I ask the bar keep which of the many bottles of tequila sitting in front of me is lo mas mejor, the best, and he tells me it is Cazadores. Then he makes his way across the dirt street to buy a couple sweet treats at the stand where his little one has beckoned him.

We make our way back to La Iguana by way of the beach as the sun is setting in a clear sky and we hope to see it sink into the ocean which is always pretty cool. We notice that only one of the high class resorts along the way takes the time to daily sweep the omnipresent seaweed from its shore. We find ourselves in front of our hotel as the sun lowers to the horizon and we hustle to our room to grab some wine and beers in hope of catching the sunset from the chaise lounges in the sandy patio fronting our little resort on this hot, muggy night. We rush through the bug storm, get our supplies and stake our stations with the first order to douse ourselves in bug spray before the buggers carry us off. We do so and of course the sun disappears into a haze on the horizon not to be seen again tonight, but what the hell, we have beer, wine, and another Cohiba, things could be worse.

Well, actually, things are worse. About the time our Cohiba has played out, other biting things that are immune to mosquito spray have reconnoitered us, and after entertaining ourselves despite the onslaught, by watching the beach road traffic swatting themselves, we give up the battle in the twilight and sprint back to our refuge, staging our individual  long jumps into the room so as to not drag more mosquitoes in than can be helped. We fire up the mini-split, take our third shower of the day, and once again lie on the bed feeling the absolutely luxurious wash of cool air dumping from the mini-split’s rotating louvers. We have found, at least in July, it never cools down here in Holbox. It is a steamy, tropical jungle island around the clock.

We’re pretty played out so we just fire up Die Hard, the original, on my laptop and Mary makes it about half way through. I am right behind her.

We’re up early the next morning as we have arranged for a taxi to take us to the pier at 6:30 for the 7 ferry. The next ferry isn’t until 9 and missing the 7 ferry would guarantee that we would have to pay an extra day of car rental.

We have everything packed and by the door before we take a deep breath and bolt through the gardens to the beach road and we only take a few bug casualties. It’s 6:20 and we stand on the road swatting mosquitoes for ten minutes and at 6:30 the taxi is a no show so we start hoofing towards Centro.

Early risers are out and about in their private golf carts this steamy morning and we see a few taxis but they are already occupied. Downtown we are directed to a taxi stand but nobody is tending their vehicles. It’s about 6:40 and we are starting to panic as we ask another local about taxis and she just vaguely gestures southward. We walk a couple blocks and ask another local and he asks why we want a taxi as the pier is only 600 meters ahead. I look up and focus my eyes and right he is. I grab all the gear and Mary jogs the remaining distance and I catch up just as she has secured our tix with about ten minutes to spare. We join about a dozen others in a waiting room by the snack stand and relax. There is a small ferry moored right next to us. I notice a lady and her young daughter walking by us. I am curious as I step onto the pier to see where she is going. At the end of the pier is a larger ferry that looks remarkably like the one we took here from Chiquila and I see her boarding. I ask the tix taker if this is the Chiquila ferry and it is and it leaves in cinco minutos. I jog back noticing a sign that shows departure times for Chiquila and one other port, the other place is evidently where this smaller ferry is heading. Mary and I grab our gear and board the correct ferry and we find that we have started a stampede, as the other passengers in the waiting room, 20 some by now, are hot on our heels. And these are all locals except for one young gringo backpacking couple. Whew!

The rest of the trip is routine as we get back to the car rental agency in plenty of time and we are happy to be car free once again.

We find that we are glad to have had the Holbox experience and if you are a typical tourist with a lot more money than we have, Holbox would be pretty cool because you’d be staying at a 5 star resort on the beach which I imagine is fogged and pretty bug free and you’d be taking the whale shark tours, snorkeling, and the whole bit. But if you’re us, and we are, Holbox is “Mosquito Coast” and thanks but no thanks, for seashore we’ll take Progreso.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. And please feel free to comment, we know others who have  loved their Holbox experience and Bruce would be happy to post your impressions. Hasta pronto, mis amigos and please pass the bug spray.

Bruce & Mary Toasting Their Anniversary

It’s hard to believe that this is Bruce and Mary’s third anniversary celebration in the Yucatan. Please join them as they celebrate their 36 years of wedded bliss, er, ahh, weddedness?

I’m glad to be gainfully employed now, here in Mérida, and doing by some standards better than we ever have, because that means that I probably will not give in to my cheap inner self and diminish in some fashion, our 36th wedding anniversary.

Our anniversary was actually Thursday but, as that was a workday and a school night we have decided to celebrate today, Saturday. We begin our celebration by sleeping in. Then, having accomplished that we get our act together and walk up to California gym, our gym and we each have a very righteous work-out. We’re a little disappointed that we do not see any of our poster boy pals, but we are a little earlier than usual.

Back home we clean up and immediately head to our neighborhood bar, El Luceros, to watch USA vs Ghana in the World Cup, we’re a

3 Bald Gringos Watching Futbol in a Mexican Bar

little late as our boys are already down 1-0 on an early Ghana goal. The place is packed but luckily our usual table with a clear view of one of many big screen TVs is available. We spot our pals Neil, Pete, and Linda at a nearby table in the big room and we’re a little surprised as we thought they were going to watch the match at Dave the Brit’s deli (not an option for us, no beer) but we find, as we join them, that for some reason he couldn’t tune it in on his cable. The first half ends with Ghana up 1-0 and Pete and Neil are upset with the Americans’ lackadaisical play. I am surprised at their disgust as they’re Brits, Neil from England and Pete from Wales, but Pete does have dual citizenship and his wife Linda is American. Evidently the American coach does as Neil suggests and puts a “torch up their a**es” as they swarm Ghana in the opening minutes of the second half and tie the score with a penalty kick. The regulation ends in a 1-1 tie so they go to a 30 minute overtime and at about the 20 minute mark a Ghanaian player scores on a helluva athletic breakaway. I was about to tell Neil that I guessed the bar was so packed with football fans because the locals were here to support USA, their neighbors to the north, just as every Gringo I know has been supporting Mexico in their World Cup bid, but wrong. The whole bar erupts with cheering and noisemakers when Ghana scores and again at the end of the game when they win. I take this personally as I survey the scene. Neil, generous soul that he is, speculates that a Ghana win perhaps advances Mexico’s chances. I doubt it. We say our goodbyes and head home where we gussy ourselves up in our wedding wear (Helen’s wedding that is), Mary in her custom-made dress, and I with my custom-made guayabera and linen pants. This marks maybe the third time in 2+ yrs down here that we have dressed up.

Bruce & Mary at Rosas y Xocolate's Roof top Bar

We walk the 4 blocks to the new Boutique Hotel, Rosas y Xocolate, Roses and Chocolate for our anniversary night out. The sky is overcast but with no rain and it has cooled down mercifully for us in our fancy clothes. We enter through the main door to the dining room and passing through we climb the spiral staircase to the rooftop bar overlooking beautiful, tree lined Paseo Montejo. We pick a table at the concrete railing and take in the view as the bar keeper quickly scurries over to our table to take our orders, a Bohemia Obscura, my most favorite beer in the world and for some reason Mary orders Tecate light, ewww! I light up my Cohiba Esplendido to share with Mary and life is good. We take to the sheltered horseshoe shaped bar when a slight mist develops and we reorder our beers. Mary has come to her senses and orders a Bohemia as well. Mary espies a huge green parrot high up in a tree next door and snaps a pic of it. We are having a perfect moment and we stretch it out by slowly sipping our beers on ice and puffing away on the Cohiba when it is not resting in the cigar cut-out of the black Onyx cenicero, ashtray. Everything about this place is first

Bohemias y Puro Cohiba

rate.

Finally our stomachs tell us it is time for dinner. We climb down the spiral staircase into the garden but we decide to take our dinner in the dining room proper as it is heating up again and we wouldn’t mind some air conditioning. We are seated at a table for two at a window facing Paseo and presented menus and asked about drinks. Mary has her usual beer but I ask for el vino rojo de la casa, the house red wine. Mary gets her beer and I am presented with two choices of red wine. I taste test them both and decide on the Chilean Merlot. I am no wino but it tastes mighty fine to me. Mary orders an appetizer para compartir, to share, a salad. But first we are served little tiny slices of bread, one with raisins and the other a sesame seed variety. Both are scrumptious and look funny sitting on our huge platters where we butter them. We marvel at the simple but elegant silverware. I hold up the spoon and see my reflection in it .Mary says, “But first there is no spoon.”

Mary and Carol

Carol, the owner, born in Mexico City, raised in NY and formerly out of Florida, his base of international travel for 35 years, comes over to say hi and we have fun telling him that our girlfriend, Connie, thinks he is hot. He says “Really, you know I am 64.” Well you’d never know it. I tell him that I would put him at my age, 57, or younger. He tells a charming story of his vodka tasting party attended by a number of 20 somethings and then he is off, wishing us, “Buen provecho!”

Our salad comes and it may be the best salad I have ever had. It is arugula placed artfully on a white plate splashed with a stripe of chocolate! Sandwiched in the mound of arugula are thin slices of firm, succulent pear and bits of pistachios. Hmmm!

We are served more breads and then the entrees come, a Chicken dish for Mary and Pescado del Dia, fish of the day, for me. The presentation is deceiving in that at first you think you’re looking at a classic gourmet presentation with about 200 calories of actual food until you realize that the bowl shaped platter is huge, seemingly dwarfing the entree but the tower of food is very generous. My fish steak sits atop a tall bed of nopal, seasoned cactus, all on top of a meaty tortilla base. It is very good, but you want to be a nopal fan for this dish, which I am, as the nopal taste is very strong. Mary’s chicken dish consists of chicken breast sitting atop a lentil salad with some arugula and lettuce like mache and it is fantastic (she shares!) There is a bit of guyaba puree on the side which complements the flavors incredibly well.

Pescado del Dia

There are no leftovers!

We are patting our bellies as we notice a couple coming in the front door. It is Juanita and Jan (Yon)! Juanita is the editor at Yucatan Today who published our book and she is a good friend we have not seen for quite awhile. Juanita is there with her husband, meeting another couple, to write her restaurant of the month review and this month she is featuring Rosas y Xocolate. We get caught up and then see them off to the table where their friends await.

Mary is served coffee and I still have my vino to finish when a plate comes bearing a triangle of dense, moist chocolate cake with a dallop of icecream on top with a lit candle. On the plate is scribed, in a drizzle of chocolate, “Felicidades!” Courtesy of Carol. I don’t have to tell you it is to die for, especially for a chocoholic (Mary hides it in the house) like myself.

Our Just Desserts

We ask for la Cuenta, the check, and after a 20% tip, the whole evening comes to 869P, about $69.50US, not bad, eh?

We say goodbye to Juanita and Jan and in the process meet their friends Ralf who has a T-Shirt shop in La Gran Plaza, and his wife Maru who has a cookie business, and then we’re out the door walking Paseo on a Saturday night wondering how an evening could be any more perfect. To you Mary: I am truly a lucky man.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Bruce and Mary have found that the longer they live in Mérida the more enchanted with the city they become. Mérida is truly muy bonita and muy tranquilo. Hasta pronto!

Bruce Working on 2009 Taxes Poolside, Naturally

Last year, 2009, was Bruce and Mary’s first full tax year living in México. Now Bruce is no whiz at taxes having given up that duty to his ever steadfast and painfully honest accountant Wayne, but now things have changed. Let’s see what happens when Bruce is on his own again, one on one against the taxman.

I called Wayne up over the holidays to get lined up for my 2009 taxes. Wayne had done our 2008’s, when the only income we had was the rental from our house and the short time in early 2008 when we were still living our old lives, working for Chassis Liner and Merrill Corp. As usual, Wayne had worked his magic and gotten us pretty substantial refunds. However on this call, everything changed. “Wayne, how’ya doing buddy? What’s new in Alexandria?” He proceeded to get me up to speed and to tell of a mutual acquaintance who had looked at property around booming Alex in the early 80s, just like I had, I tell Wayne. Well, the only difference was he actually borrowed the money and bought the land. I didn’t. Now, he’s splitting time, early retired, between his lake home on the chain of lakes and his condo in Hawaii. Wayne and I commiserated, but he reminds me that at least I was able to run away to México while he is still, at age 62, slaving away over taxes for guys like me. Time to get down to business. I explain my situation: We’ve lived in México all for all of tax year 2009 and our income from the Canadian outfit for which we online moderate is not huge but significant. He says to me, “Sorry Bruce, that’s ‘world-wide income while living abroad’. Don’t know a thing about it, can’t do it.” When I start whining he tells me that he understands there are a lot of tax preparers in CA that handle that sort of thing, maybe I can find someone there.

Now what?

Well I ignore it for a couple of months, it is flat out not any fun to think about, but March rolls around and when it still hasn’t gone away I start my research. Number one, do I even have to file? After all we live in Mexico and a Canadian firm pays us. We don’t drive on American roads, we have no 911 that we can call (policia protecting our butts now), and no one is going postal (Mx mail ain’t that bad) for us down here . It’s not that we’re not solid, taxpaying democrats, happy to pay for our infrastructure, it’s just that, right now, we’re not using it. Well the US of A feels like that way to a certain extent. I discovered that all Americans under age 65, everywhere, have to file a return, if you have a minimum income of $12,000 (married-filing-jointly). However, if you’re living abroad and qualify, there is schedule 2555 that gives a $91,400 exemption. I did the worksheet and we qualify, Que bueno!

So I went to the IRS website and learned about e-filing and chose a company among the many on the list, 1040Now, and got to work. After much trial and error I thought I was ready to go and low and behold, there are no taxes to be paid. But then I found an error on form 2555, I had missed a zero on our online moderation income and so I showed a negative income on my 1040 long form. What’s up? Oh yea, form 2555 only exempts my income and with the right number in there that exemption is greater than the rental income I had reported on schedule E. I still had to report our moderation income, duh. So I checked out how to do that. We received no W2 or the Canadian equivalent because we were not employees which is essentially when I realized, Doh, we’re independent contractors. So young man, go to schedule C. I did so and at least we qualified for the C-EZ and I filled it out. And that is when I discovered the good old self-employment tax. After some more googling I verified that there is no way to avoid SE no matter what you do or where you live in the world. And that nasty straight rate is about 15%, ouch!

Well, we considered, briefly, ignoring our self employed income, after all who’s to know? Our company does not file 1099s with the IRS. But then, like a little voice in the back of my head I  remembered what my insurance agent, CPA, brother Mark once told me, “They catch you fooling with your deductions, they’ll penalize you and charge interest. They catch you fooling with your income; they’ll throw you in jail.” Yea, I guess we owe, and are going to pay, a chunk of change.

So I completed the filing, filled out the ACH payment authorization and clicked “submit” and waited to see if this filing was correct and would be accepted.

The next day I checked and the filing was accepted and a couple days later I checked our GMFCU account (General Mills Federal Credit Union – love those guys, especially Gina who handles our account) and our Fed taxes had been snatched out of there. Fed taxes were a done deal, signed, sealed and delivered.

Now onto MN state taxes. I emailed the state revenue site and stated our circumstances and found that although we wouldn’t owe taxes we still had to file. And that is how these free tax outfits like 1040Now make their money. They charge for the state return. So I filled out the return, payed the $16.95, and clicked submit. The next day I logged in and saw that it had been accepted.

And that, my friends, is how we handled “Living Abroad While Earning World-Wide Income”.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. If you have any questions about the above, please comment. Bruce is not a tax accountant but he does play one on TV. Hasta la vista, baby!

A Mexican Picnic

Bruce and Mary are in México for Easter for the third year in a row. They’re not very religious and certainly not Roman Catholic as is most of this country. Let’s see what Easter weekend is like for this zenner couple.

Good Friday is weird, here. We are working our shifts, holiday shifts as it were, since for our Canadian firm this day is an official holiday. Our Canadian friends are surprised to hear that it is not in the States. As this relates to our jobs, most of the posters to the online forum that we moderate are at home, not working, which means that they’re not at their work desks informing the whole world of their awe inspiring insight to every story that hits our Canadian news website. In other words it is a slow day and only a skeleton crew is in place.

We log off and I make some online chess moves in the games I am playing with Kevin D, Sammy our hijo major, and his old chum Josh, who is almost a member of the family. Then we figure we’ll head out for a bite. There is no traffic and it is eerily quiet. We don’t even hear any music in the distance which is really weird. At the corner of the block we find our favorite bar El Lucero del Alba closed. Hmmm. We reverse directions and walk a couple blocks to our favorite cantina, La Gran Lucha. Closed. We walk over to El Choperia, a nice Brazilian/Mexican fusion restaurant/bar. Closed. We walk further down Calle 56 to the Jazz Club. Closed. And that is when we give up and head home for our own botanitas while we watch a couple of movies.

Saturday starts promisingly with a bright sky and warm temps, it seems we may be getting back to normal after all these nortes. We do our usual routine, working out at the California gym where I make a couple more friends, Ramon and Roberto. Ramon is pretty impressive, doing front squats with three plates.

Then we do our weekly shopping at Wal-Mart (we never shopped at Wal-Mart in the states for the reasons that people don’t, but it is different here) and the rest of the day we just relax. We’re saving ourselves for tomorrow, Easter Sunday, beach day for us. We took Monday off because we have to finish up our FM3 visas renewals but what that means in this story is that Monday we can sleep in.

Sunday dawns the gorgeous day we were hoping for and after we fool around on our computers, drink a couple gallons of coffee, and have some breakfast we are out the door for the beach. The last time we took the Progreso bus to the beach on a Sunday morning, they had, because the bus terminal is on the Mérida en Domingo biciruta, bicycle route which is closed to traffic, temporarily staged buses on a nearby street with personnel manning card tables selling tix. But we can’t remember exactly where that is, so we ask the cabbie if he knows where the Mérida en Domingo Progreso bus terminal is set up and he says, “Si, si.” So we hop in and take off.

Well after we have gone in a complete circle I am starting to get angry and the cabbie starts making excuses because of the biciruta. So we just get out, in the vicinity of buses we can see staging, pay the 30P taxi fee and hoof our way down the block to the staging area. Well, this ain’t the place, one of the drivers tells us and the directions he gives us are to the regular Progreso depot. We walk the two blocks and sure enough, people are lined up down the block to buy tix inside the depot. I guess the Progreso buses don’t care about the biciruta anymore.

We stand in line for probably about 20 minutes and spot our friend Bob, owner of Las Vigas, one of our favorite joints downtown, and wave at him. At Mary’s suggestion I butt in the bus loading line while she stays in the tix line and just as she gets to the window, a heavy set local gal butts in front of her and then takes forever to buy her tix. Meanwhile they are holding up one of the buses for me and Mary who are the last to board and wouldn’t you know, Mary gets the last seat and I get to stand the whole way to the beach. By this point you could grill a T-Bone steak, medium well, on my bald head. The whole point of coming to the depot was to guarantee seats, as we knew that hopping the bus at our usual stop on Av. Cupules, it would be standing room only. So we wend through town and by the time we get to the aforementioned bus stop I calculate that if we had stuck to our normal M.O. we’d be sitting on the beach right now. Grrrr!!

Well, the bus keeps on adding people at every stop and by the time we hit the superhighway, the bus is completely stuffed. But finally we do hit the depot and we debark into the hot sun with our beach gear and it is a good day once again.

We weave our way on the packed sidewalks to our cerveceria on the corner of the malecon and it is wall-to-wall people. The malecon is closed to traffic and there is a soundstage with live music going and beer and food vendors are filling the street.

Mary stops to get us a litro of Superior while I go on ahead with our gear to stake out our spot on the beach and it is busy, the beach is packed with middle class Yucatecans. The upper class is sitting in the shaded palapa restaurant/bars that line the beach. As I am getting out our portable beach chairs and beach blankets I see all manner of gerry rigged wind (it is breezy) and sun shelters. Families are setting up picnics on blankets and short legged collapsible tables.

Mary joins me and the first thing I do is take a dip in the green water. It is warmer than I thought it would be

Bruce Enjoying a Cohiba

and there is a genuine surf, in fact as the waves break I can actually feel a mild undertow pulling me back into the ocean. Back on shore, Mary pours Superior into our plastic glasses and after toweling off I light up our Cohiba cigar. We are right where we want to be, physically, mentally, and spiritually. What a perfect day.

Mary and I make small talk while enjoying the incredible people watching. I am caught up by the 12 yr old, sunglassed entrepreneur right in front of us. He has a big box of kites which serves as the anchor for the half dozen Styrofoam kites he is flying. The kites are in the shape of airplanes and spinners, wings with cores like an old fashioned lawnmower that spin at about 10,000rpm. This kid is cleaning up and looking so cool in the process.

Posing Amateur Body Builders

I go for a refill and when I get back I find Mary with a bag of popcorn from a beach vendor. The popcorn is drenched with hot sauce and for 15P we have the best popcorn we have ever had in our lives.

The afternoon is waning but the beach and the malecon are just getting busier and busier. However, we are starting to burn and it time for a real meal. I return our litro for the 5P deposit, while Mary packs up, and it is 3 people deep at the counter and everyone is drunk and not very polite. People behind me are putting their empty litros in front of my face for refills. Finally I get my 5P back and find Mary on the beach. We decide it is just too busy at the beach side restaurants so we head back towards the bus depot and we remember a place along the way that looked kind of cool. We find it quickly and sit down in the shade.

Nick, fluent in English, having been raised in CA shoots the breeze with us as he takes our order. The beers are reasonable at 20P but the food is a little pricey. Finally we decide to split a 95P chicken burrito. It’s the perfect amount of food and after settling up we hit the road and arrive at the depot just as they are loading a bus for Mérida. We are one of the last ones to board but at least we both get a seat this time.

Forty minutes later we are debarking at Calle 47 to hoof the remaining 4 blocks home. We are beat but quite content; it has been a great day.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Feel free in sharing your Easter 2010. Bruce would love to hear about it. Hasta Pronto!

Violeta

Bruce and Mary have settled into a routine and there isn’t much new to report, lately. However, Bruce keeps a file called “post ideas” for just such occasions. Here’s a story about the natural force called Violet, or Violeta as we like to call her down here, from our days on Calle 59.

We’re enjoying the evening on the little patio fronting our flat on Calle 59 watching the buses go by as we sip on our beers and glasses of wine when Violet our next door neighbor asks to join us. “Sure, Violet.”

Violet continues the ongoing story of her career of confrontations, the latest one being about the renewal of her FM3 visa. She says her calls to her Novia Scotia MP (member of parliament) have resulted in the proper application of heat to the local IMS officials and that they will be delivering to her apartment, forthrightly, her new FM3. We are impressed with her power.

Then she launches a discourse on China, how it will be the next superpower, supplanting the good old US of A. This conversation draws me in and I do care to differ when she says that China has all this leverage over the US by virtue of the vast number of dollars they hold. Now I am no economist but I posit, or try to (very hard to get the floor when Violeta is on a roll) that we hold the leverage as with their investment they are very interested in maintaining a strong dollar and what is China to do in a worst case scenario, foreclose on America? Well I never really get the chance to get that last part in so I am just as happy when she shifts the conversation to her cancer. She tells us how her liver cancer “broke off” and went to her lungs, as she lights up another Lucky Strike. She took her chemo and now has been clear for 10 years. Hmmm.. strange story but a happy ending. We congratulate her. With that encouragement she feels compelled to share more of her vast cancer knowledge with us. She proceeds by telling us about the relationship between Alzheimers and brain cancer. I say, “Oh, I believe that is because of the similarities in the amyloidal adhesions.” “Oh yes!” she says, and the conversation continues over a few more wines and then Mary and I excuse ourselves and retire into our flat. “What was that amyloid crap about?” Mary asks. “Pure absolute BS I made up on the spot.” I tell her. “Wasn’t it fun?”

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Well at least this was a short post for a change, it’s got that going for it. As usual Bruce appreciates any and all feedback. Hasta luego!

The View from Plaza Seranata

Bruce and Mary have now experienced their second Mérida Carnaval, let’s join them on Sunday, the middle day of this five day Mexican Mardi Gras.

After sleeping in (we were up until 1 last night – really late for old-timers like us) we find that we don’t really have a battle plan for this day’s Carnaval activities. We had camped out on Paseo Montejo for the last two nights of parades and street dances but we’re leaning toward checking out La Plaza Grande for today’s parade, the biggest of the weekend. Last year we had second level seating in the Mr. Bandera restaurant (what kind of a name is that?) overlooking the park and it was great, but I think we got lucky in finding a table last year and we made no reservations this year, which we were advised to do. So we figure we’ll just wing it.

So were out the door at 11:30 for the noon parade but that’s okay as it starts out at La Glorieta de La

Calle 60

Bandera on the north end of Paseo and it will be a good hour and a half to two hours before it winds its way to La Plaza Grande, 6 kms away. It is a crisp sunny day, about 75 degrees, all the locals are in jackets and even winter coats. I am comfortable in long pants and my green colored “Live Free or Die” New Hampshire T-shirt. Steel railings line the entire 6 kms and there are folding chairs and bleachers on nearly the entire parade route. The bleachers are free but you better mark out your territory a good two hours prior and even the 30P chairs are snapped up quickly.

Calle 60 is already closed to traffic so we walk right down the middle of the road with thousands of others, trying to spot a good place. We spot some gringos seated at a sidewalk café and they tell us that the minimum food and drink expenditure is 150P per person to sit there. Hmm, tempting, but we march on. We get to the corner of Calles 60 and 61 right where the parade will make a right turn to finish up in front of the governor’s palace facing the park and we notice that the Plaza Seranata, one of our favorite restaurants, which happily overlooks the park as well, seem to have no one at the second floor balconies. This looks promising. We enter the restaurant through the patrolled maze of portable fencing and folding chairs to enter the large front door only to find that the balconies have been reserved, but there is a table for three right adjacent to the entry with a great view of calles 60 and 61.

Neomi and sis Areli

This will work, plus there is no minimum. We order cervezas and are quickly joined by little 10 yr old Noemi. She is sitting with her family on folding chairs just outside the entrance and evidently we two gringos piqued her interest. She is quickly joined by her two tiny siblings, 4 yr old Rodrigo, and toddler Areli. For the next couple hours we sip beers and have a Spanish/English lesson with these adorable little Mayan kids.

At one point I have Mary ask Noemi if she likes Americans. She squirms a little and tells us that she has a cousin in the States and that she likes us…. We let it lie.

Mary buys the kids a coke but then the parade arrives and they bolt, so excited they leave their cokes behind.

There are just a few floats that we haven’t seen in the other two parades but I’m not complaining as the dance troupes are always very entertaining and who gets tired of scantily clad Latinas gyrating? Not me, at least.

The theme for Carnaval 2010 is Al Ritmo del Mundial, the Rhythm of the World so we are surprised that there

Latinas Muy Bonitas

is so much Michael Jackson and even Doobie Brothers, but the choreography is fun to watch. Probably the next most popular music is Cuban and the costumes are pretty awesome.

The parade lasts just under two hours. We settle up our bill and join the masses walking up and down Calle 60. We round the corner of Calles 60 and 47 and walk by Dave the Brit’s Deli shop which is not open for business as a deli yet but he has his team assembled to offer fish and chips, chicken wings and strips and Varon’s (his right hand man) roll-ups: deep fat fried pastries stuffed with a variety of ingredients with the common ingredient being tons of cheese. Veritable heart stoppers but mmm… good! Friday night, business had

The Birdman of Merida

been poor and Dave’s business mgr, the irrepressible Lulu had contacted Pepsi. By Saturday evening, Pepsi had installed an awning over the main door with a huge banner above the awning and a big Pepsi bottle on the roof. People noticed. Saturday night when we stopped by, the joint was hopping. The cost? Nada. Pepsi supplied all this plus glass fronted coolers for simply a prepaid order of Pepsi products. Pepsi and Coke own this country.

But today Dave and company are perplexed by a soft serve ice cream machine that is not working. This is not good as they handed out reams of free ice cream coupons, as a loss leader, yesterday and it won’t look good when customers try to redeem. The machine came with no manual and since I am asked I try to figure out something. The best theory is that the ice cream has frozen up at the spigots. Dave has turned off the machine and with my encouragement he runs some thick gage wire down the tubes from the vats and he does encounter some resistance and plunges through it. Now we try the spigots and voila, runny ice cream mix pours out. Dave turns the machine back on and after a bit there is ice cream.

The problem solving has made me thirsty so we wander up Paseo and find a beer tent that is offering Modelo Especial 710. That’s in 710 mgs, exactly two beers, for 25P. We sit down at a tamale stand (I have a couple) and relax watching Paseo fill up with people as the sound stages are just getting going.

We get up to leave but stop in front of the main sound stage at El Remate (the top) de Paseo. There are three young guys dancing to sternum vibrating rock and roll. Two of the guys are shirtless and obviously body builders and the third is a slender fellow in some sort of a flamenco outfit. All three are dancing like Chippendales on crack. At one point the bigger of the two roids boys has his pecs dancing in time to the music. The young gals in front of the stage are nearly swooning and I must admit that I am mesmerized myself. Finally Mary nudges me. I close my mouth and walk with Mary the two blocks home. There may be two more nights of Carnaval but for us it is a school night so we relax by the pool before an early night and Mary’s 5AM alarm.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. BTW: February 15^th is the second anniversary of Bruce and Mary’s escape to México. Que bueno!

Helen and Christi in Merida

Bruce and Mary are expecting their daughter Helen (with friend Christi) later this evening and Mary is busting her butt cleaning and making preparations and she is so excited she cannot stand still. Join them as they spend the next week showing Helen and Christi the sights and sounds of Mérida.

It’s Monday, November 23^rd, Helen is arriving this evening and we have no water. But Omar, our trusty property mgr has the plomero over in a flash, and after replacing the floats in the tinaca on the roof of the master bedroom/media room addition and the one in the cistern beneath the pool pump station, we are back in business. This situation helps us realize once again that this house is really 3 houses. The original, hundred year old front of the house, the newer bedroom suites where we reside, and the brand new pool, promenade, and master bedroom complex at the back of this football field-long house.

Mary is camped out on the street waiting for the girls to arrive. It is about 7:30pm and according to our calculations their taxi from the bus depot should be arriving any minute. I tire of this after about 20 minutes, figuring that the girls didn’t get to the Cancun bus depot after their flight from MSP in time for the 3:00 bus, so we might as well kill another hour before we get all worked up again. Mary waits another 15 minutes before she concurs and she sets up shop on the sidewalk again at 8:30 this time to be rewarded with Helen and Christi’s appearance. It’s hugs and kisses and then we whisk them into the house and lead them to their rooms. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen a 100 pix (which Helen had), because, like every one of our visitors so far, they are bug-eyed over the scale of this house.

We have them get settled into their rooms while we hustle botanas and Margaritas and I grab one of my Cohibas, a genuine puro, Cubana, Cuban cigar. I am breaking my cigars-on-weekends

only rule, for this special occasion. The girls dangle their toes poolside and we have a fun time getting caught up until 2 in the morning. Then it is time for this old man to go to bed.

Everyone sleeps in and while the girls are cleaning up Mary and I put together our usual fruit and avocado breakfast. The only fruit they do not recognize is the Mamey which they agree tastes like sweet potato on steroids.

We quickly bus dishes as we need to leave soon for our appmt with Alexei, known by gringos to be the number 1 dress designer in Mérida. Helen is engaged to be married this coming June and being a girl on a budget we approached her with the idea of making this visit a bit of wedding tourism as the rough quote Alexei had given us was just a fraction of the cost of a wedding dress back in Minneapolis.

The walk to Alexei’s studio is only two blocks and Alexei greets us at the door. He walks us through a front room into his consulting/measuring room and Helen produces the pic of Fiona Apple in the dress that is her inspiration. Alexei is all business at first but as we get into the process he is a lot of fun and he is most definitely quite gay, which as I understand it, is a requirement. JK.

He brings out a bolt of beige satin and many samples of chiffon of different weights of which a bright white stands out. That is the ticket. For the sash he brings out a bolt of the most stunning sapphire blue satin that anyone has ever seen and we all just lean forward in our chairs and say in unison, “That is beautiful!”

The measuring begins with Helen standing on a little platform and one of Alexei’s female assistants with the tape. This takes literally 15-20 minutes. Helen tells us later that she was measured in places where she didn’t know she had dimensions. Alexei explains that his dresses are designed to fit every inch of the torso. This is why he really disdains designing dresses from supplied measurements but with the volume of custom clothes he is starting to make for his US customers, he sometimes has to.

This session concludes and the girls are stunned that Helen will be getting a beautiful custom made wedding gown for 2500P about $200US.

Back home we snack on pistachios and peanuts and then we give them the Mexican Wal-Mart experience. As I may have mentioned before, Wal-Mart’s business plan is far different in México where they actually team up with communities, they don’t decimate them and the main Wal-Mart looks more like a Museum than the pole barns were all used to in the States. After picking up supplies and having supper back home we play competing U-tubes and we watch a funny bit by the winning team of her employer’s video competition. Capella U placed in the top 10 most desirable employers of Minneapolis and the school celebrated by having this contest. The stars are several from Helen’s department including her supervisor and their bit is a hilarious send-up of “Beat It”. It appears I have lost our you-tube contest when after about 15 minutes of Trailer Park Boys, the movie, Helen starts reading the newspaper. I can take a hint and kill the vid. Everyone is pretty tired so it is an early night for all.

Wednesday is a work day for Mary and I, so as the girls are sleeping in Mary logs into her early morning shift. I prepare a fruit breakfast breakfast for all and then get about my morning routine before I log into work for my 10-4 shift. The girls once up and fed, relax on the chaise lounges working on their tans but it is a little overcast and hard work getting any color today. But they don’t mind too much, they’re on holiday and sipping cocktails and reading their novels.

For evening fun we have invited our young friend Emilie, another Minnesotan about Helen’s age, and her local boyfriend, Edgar over for cocktails and botanas. Another MN gal, Rhianna, who is visiting Emilie, tags along. We sit around the patio table poolside with the boom box going and the youngsters really hit it off. Edgar, a retired musician (Emilie had given him the old-tomato about getting serious about his life) currently working as food vendor, is a hoot. He has really done a good job picking up English, mostly from listening to American music, and he has a great sense of humor. At one point Christi asks about tattoos as that is a project of hers, acquiring tats everywhere she travels and she is quite the world traveler. Edgar rolls up his sleeves, exposing arms completely covered with tats and says, “How about me?”  Christi is quite pleased that this worked out so easily.

It’s getting late and they want to go out on the town. We hear later that they went to the Mayan Pub, a place we love, but there wasn’t enough action for them (no live music on Wednesday nights) so Edgar leads them like a pied piper to an underground bar. All I ever heard was that they had a helluva lot of fun.

It’s Thursday and Thanksgiving day, but it doesn’t feel like it, after all this is México and this is just another

A Mexican Thanksgiving

work day except for the tiny percentage of gringos that live in this city of 750,000 souls. Mary starts working on the meal, a vegan one as Helen has been vegan for quite some time and Mary is a vegan wannabe. In a concession that was not easily won I had talked Mary into letting me buy a couple monster chicken breasts (could not get away with a whole turkey) so Mary bakes them up in a tasty basil preparation and everyone is pretty doggone happy with the meal.

We lounge for a bit and then we head out for the Yucatan State fair that our friend Joanne had told us about, and I mean who knew, a Yucatan State Fair?

We walk up to Calle 69 and 56 and 58 and there is a bus loading. We are lucky to make it just in time, but unlucky as that means it is standing room only, but the good news is the fair is in a little town just beyond the SE city limits and we are there in only 20 minutes.

We arrive just as the sun is setting and Helen buys our 12P, about 90¢ each, tickets. This entire facility appears to be brand new and quite modern and large, not MN state fair large, but I estimate it covers about 60 acres.

Mexicans know how to do fairs as the beer garden is right to the right of the entry way plaza and you can buy litros in cups, and you can wander around the entire facility with your beers, and there are many other smaller beer gardens scattered throughout the complex. I have a great first impression.

We head towards the midway stopping at a petting zoo along the way. One of the keepers hands Christi a baby goat and it practically falls asleep in her arms.

There is a marina show featuring delphinos, dolphins, but we are a little late for that and the next isn’t for over an hour, so we move on.

The midway is right up the lane and Helen and Christi indulge themselves in a rather modest roller coaster which puts large smiles on their faces. We keep walking around the perimeter and find a  flea market and right away I see a vendor selling huge 8’x8’ beach blankets. I am happy to pay the 200P as he won’t budge on the price but then he throws in a nice flannel blanket and a couple of really cheesy pillows. He bundles it up with twine and being rather bulky I find it easiest to carry on my head. This elicits a chuckle from the women, which is about the only way I get a laugh these days as nobody gets me anymore.

We make our way past a couple dance pavilions with live, eardrum shattering music. Once again we observe a phenomena we have seen many times. The chest thumping vibrations of the music don’t even register on them, their conversations are normal without having to repeat a single word and they field cell calls without missing a beat. I don’t get it.

We finally round the bend and find some more rides, a zip-line for the girls and unfortunately for Helen she is too light for her momentum to carry her all the way to the other platform, about 20’ off the ground. The attendee has to pulley out on grab Helen around the waist with his legs and hand over hand pull the both of them to the platform. Helen wasn’t really looking for any relationship, just a ride. Christi is next and by this time a crowd of beer drinking locals has formed a fan club and as she begins her assent they are cheering, “Christi! Christi!” Mary ends up posing them all for a group shoot.

The Fan Club

Then the girls talk me into a rollercoaster ride over in this part of the fair. It is a short ride and there’s not very much vertical but we do have a loop the loop and it is as herky-jerky a roller coaster ride as I have ever had. I’m glad they talked me into it.

Next we walk past the Brahma bulls which are very impressive but they all really need jocks if they’re not going to hurt themselves.

Finally we are at “Winterland”! In one enclosed, chilled tent there are snowball fights that go until each team’s box of readymade snow balls is depleted. The two teams are separated by a badminton fence and there are some real maniacs. One teenaged guy never left the snow ball box for a close in shot but just lobbed mortar shells non-stop. I was expecting him to get the first case of frostbite in the tropics but his adrenalin rush trumped his blue hands. The girls thought this to be a little too energetic so they opted for the inner tube slide next door. It was about as exciting as you can get with a 10’ vertical, wheee!

At this point the girls feel that they came, they saw, and they conquered this Mexican state fair, so we meander toward the exit gate and find the bus staging area. Even though it is quite busy we board quickly and by bus, then taxi we are back home in a flash.

Mary makes sandwiches and we eat and drink beer poolside and then everyone hits the sack, these types of days wear out young and old alike.

Friday is a work day for Mary and me, so we get about our usual schedules. The girls sleep in, have the continental breakfast I had made them and they head over to Alexei for a fitting. This takes a while and right as Mary logs off work, she gets a call from Alexei, “Your daughter is so beautiful, you must come right away to see her!” So, no more need be said; she bolts the two blocks to his studio and takes many photos. I have a rather nice night out planned from the proceeds of the hush money Helen paid me to keep those photos off this blog.

The only problem is, this fitting has taken way longer than expected and they are late in meeting Rhianna, our young friend’s visitor, at the bus depot for a day trip to Uxmal, the famous Mayan Ruins in the Puuc hills south of Mérida. When they finally hook up with Rhianna it is too late for the Uxmal buses but they make a fun day of it touring La Plaza Grande, including the Governor’s Palace, the San Idelfonso Catedral (oldest one on the N American continent) and other walk-able historic sites.

The girls check back in late in the afternoon but they are soon off again to meet up with Emilie, Edgar, and Rhianna for her going-away party, she is taking the midnight express this evening down to Chiapas, about an 8 hr bus ride. She figures she will sleep on the bus and avoid one night of hotel expense. Oh to be young again.

They meet at the Namaste Grille (or the Nasty Grille as Dave the Brit calls it) and Helen and Christi later agree with that assessment. One of Helen’s favorite restaurants back in Uptown Minneapolis is an Indian joint where she can get all the vegan Indian delights her heart desires, so she knows Indian cuisine. After their meal they head up to La Canta Mexicana which had been described to us as a pretty cool karaoke bar with a 100P cover that includes all the beer and botanas you can eat and drink. We have never been there as it opens roughly at our bedtime, 9:00. But the report we got from the girls was: not fun. No one was singing, nobody brought around botanas, and it was just generally a bore.

It’s late and the girls are still out. Helen had informed me that Dads usually dance with their bride daughters which frankly hadn’t occurred to me, and being a horrible dancer, or really not a dancer at all, I had downloaded some youtube video “how to’s” on, well I thought for the helluva it, swing dancing. So I talk Mary into, after a number of beers, practicing these new found moves with me, so we are in the midst of that when we hear some laughing from the hallway. Sure enough, busted, but at least Helen is kind enough to say she thought the scene “adorable”.

Saturday is beach day and we start off with a short walk to our favorite breakfast buffet, La Chocolat. It is a 49P buffet which includes unlimited fruit drinks and coffee. They have added, to the usual offerings, a boiled potato/chorizo dish which is really good. Even Helen finds enough fruit and rice to properly fuel up and after settling up we head out the door to catch a city bus to the Progreso bus stop. The day is starting off promising, it has been cool, only up to 75 yesterday and breezy, but today it is warming up nicely. We catch a bus right away and have equal luck with the Progreso bus and we are soon headed out of town to the beach.

We debark at the bus depot and laden with all our beach gear we head the few blocks towards the beach but at Calle 27 I grab my gear and head to my Progreso gym. I tell the girls I will find them on the beach after my workout. Which I do, after a fairly righteous circuit routine, right at our favorite spot on the beach, a few steps from the cerveceria, where we buy our megas (super litros, 1120ml!!) for only 18P.

The sun, shining warmly in a soft blue sky is tempered by a cooling breeze and the girls are baking themselves on both sides while Mary is doing her cryptoquips, sitting on one of our portable chairs. I join them, sitting in the other chair, and I  pour myself a glass of Superior, light up a Cohiba and it just doesn’t get any better than this.

After a couple hours of this bliss, our stomachs are rumbling so we head up the malecon to grab some grub. We find a restaurant that has reasonably priced cervezas and park ourselves in the beachside palapa area, but we only last there a few minutes, with the sun dipping to the watery horizon of the gulf it has cooled quite a bit so we cross the street and sit in the restaurant proper.

It’s an interesting menu for the carnivores but poor Helen gets stuck with French Fries, but Mary does share some of her Christians and Moors. I order Pescado Frito, because Christi is too chicken to, and I want her to see what a deep fat fried whole Grouper, eyeballs and all, is all about. Christi has the Pescado al Diablo and before even tasting it she douses it with chile and pepper sauce. She nearly hurts herself but she does persevere. I sample her dish and I am impressed that she has a tolerance to heat that equals mine. I salute you Christi!

We settle up and walk back to the bus depot and are quickly boarded. We debark at Calle 60 and 47 and head on home, walking by all the commotion at El Remate de Paseo that always accompanies the setting up for La Noche Mexicana, the every Saturday night Mérida fiesta.

Back home we relax by the pool and Helen calls her Caleb, Christi checks in with her friend who is getting some work done on her new house and Mary and I get caught up on emails.

The girls, including Mary, quickly get their energy back and they go check out La Noche Mexicana and I don’t see them until 10. Then Helen and Christi put it into high gear as they go check out Cumbancheros, a really cool Cuban salsa joint that we have visited several times. It is operated by the father son duo, Ruben Gonzalez II and III. The original Ruben Gonzalez was a renowned Cuban musician who won a grammy for the score for The Buena Vista Social Club. The walls are adorned with grammy, platinum record, Ry Cooder memorabilia and one of his most popular songs, Cumbanchero is, obviously, the namesake of Ruben’s son and grandson’s restaurant/night club. It is a pretty cool place. And we hear all about the fun they had the next morning as they are out far beyond our bedtime.

Sunday is Mérida en Domingo and after the girls finally roust up we head to La Corazon, the heart of Centro to see the sights and to, well, shop. I tag along and at la plaza grande, while the girls are checking out all the vendors, I enjoy the dancing of the young troupe in the square. Today they’re doing the balancing thing where they dance around with platters of beer bottles on their heads. It is pretty amazing as they twirl about to the live band. I join up with the girls and I see that it is getting close to kick-off; my Vikings are playing Chicago in a few minutes so I head back home. I am lucky to get a good P2P video stream and I must say that I am enjoying myself immensely, sipping on my Bloody Mary, puffing on my Cohiba, and watching Favre destroying the Bears 36-10 with 4 TD passes and 392 yds, when the girls arrive with their bags of gifts and souvenirs.

For supper Mary makes gnocchi with pesto and even we carnivores like this dish a lot. While the women are cleaning up the kitchen I call our youngest, Joey, to talk the game, a Sunday tradition and I figure I’ll get the football part done before Mary and Helen join in on the conversation. Helen and Joey give each other crap but in the zinger department I have to give it to Joey, in a close contest. After the call Helen turns us onto Dr. Who series and shows us how to access episodes on youtube. We both like the show instantly and are always happy to add to our viewing itinerary. Then it’s an early night for all of us.

Monday is a work day for us and it is Chichen Itza day for Helena and Christi. We work our shifts and Mary heads to her “Let’s Speak English” classes. I log off and just as I am back in the door from restocking our beer supply I get a call from Helen, we had insisted she take Mary’s cell with her. It seems she is concerned about missing the bus back from the ruins and there is some confusion as I think she was calling from Chichen Itza and I have no idea of the bus situation there but finally it is clear that she is calling from a restaurant at Uxmal, a very impressive Mayan Ruins that I have visited. The last one I have visited, the very last one I will ever visit as I am Mayan Ruined out, but that is another story. I advise her that if indeed they did miss the last bus out of the facility that she should hike to the highway, a little less than a kilometer and wait for a bus. The Campeche buses run pretty much on the hour. “Okay, dad, see you soon!”

Uxmal

Mary is home from school a little before the girls arrive around 7 and after my tale Mary is ecstatic and much relieved to see the girls. I was not worried; my Helen can take care of herself.

It is the second to last night of Helen and Christi’s stay so we want to go somewhere nice to eat. We taxi downtown to Amaro’s which is very romantic place and it offers a good selection of vegan entrees. We are ushered to the courtyard and as we get settled at a table the trova musician, an older gentleman, starts strumming his guitar and crooning. It is a very pleasant ambiance. And here, I have a chance to order my favorite beer in the world, Bohemia Obscura. Even Helen, who does not like dark beer as a rule, is pretty impressed.

We order up our dishes: Mary is in vegan wannabe mode and orders up the veggie enchiladas. Helen has some tomato and onion thing (I sample it and I’m sorry, all you vegans out there, but my taste buds are unable to detect any discernable flavor in these dishes) that she likes a lot. I have an avocado stuffed with tuna which sounded better than it tasted and Christi scored with her stuffed eggplant dish, it is very tasty and when I sample it, I again am pleased to know another spice mate, Christi has doused it with salsa verde and it is flammable.

After settling the check, we taxi back home and relax around the pool. Helen skypes Caleb and it is clear these betrothed are missing each other immensely, hopefully next time the both of them can visit us.

We’re both off today, Tuesday, and I actually sleep in. I get about my morning routine as the girls walk up the street to Pacsadeli, a cool restaurant supply store that also caters to the public. Here they pick up some Xcatik sauce (absolutely superb on everything) and other assorted goodies. They check in back home before running off to La Plaza Grande to meet up with our young friend Emile who will accompany them to her house on the south side for Christi’s appointment with Edgar for her Mérida tattoo.

This ends up being an all day affair but well worth it as Mary and Helen enjoyed spending the day in their cute little casa and Christi is very happy with her tat, the Mayan symbol of life and death, on the back of her upper right arm. It is bandaged but she allows me a peek. I quiz her a little and it seems that Edgar was quite sanitary about the whole procedure.

Edgar Doing the Tat

It is the girls’ last night here and we have yet to take them to one of our neighborhood bars, so we’re off to El Lucero del Alba, just a block away. This is a nice, air conditioned, big screen TV bar. We didn’t think El Arcos, a working man’s bar with an occasional cockroach here and there, would impress them much.

We sit out in the new palapa part of the bar and order up a cubetaza, a bucket of five beers and the botanas start coming. Even Helen gets her fill as she really likes the kibis. Mary has the girls list their favorite and least favorite parts of this trip just like we had the kids do when they were little. The girls agree that the State Fair and the beach were their favorites and they agree again on their least favorite, La Canta Mexicana, the karaoke place.

Back home we relax poolside and the girls take turns packing, it is getaway day tomorrow. Then we take a break and watch the November 30^th Daily Show which I have stored on my laptop. It is pretty cool, playing the México’s Immigrant Problem bit for the girls. It opens with our Doc and friend Carlos, features another friend Bette, in true form, and the man disguised by glasses and a bushy mustache is Reg, the administrator of the Mérida English Library. Mary and I attended his and spouse-mate Larry’s wedding reception, here in Mérida.

We all hit the sack about 10pm as the girls need to be out the door by 6:15am tomorrow morning. Mary has already called our favorite one-armed taxi driver, Roberto.

Mary and I are out of bed at 5:30 and we get the coffee going and the girls just have some cereal for breakfast. Mary packs them a care package of pretzels and pistachios and right at 6:15 sharp, as usual, Roberto is at the door. Roberto has a quick cup of coffee and then I help him with the girls’ gear and the next thing you know they’re off. We wave at them until they are out of sight. Mary is sobbing gently but I remind her that we will be seeing all the kids in just a few weeks, which is no immediate consolation to her.

We wander back into the house, Mary logs in and it’s another workday, but here in paradise.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. That was a lot of fun for Bruce and Mary and it seemed that Helen and Christi enjoyed themselves, too. They certainly didn’t sit still, well except for those suntanning sessions. But you know you have to come back from México with a decent suntan just to prove you were there. Bruce and Mary have been here so long they have forgotten that México was only a vacation destination for them once, as well. Feliz Navidad, loyal fans!