November 21st, 2008
Serendipity in Merida
Calle 59 in Merida
Bruce and Mary are still in vacation mode in their escape to México and have bused to the big city of Mérida for the first time to scout the city as the base of their operations for figuring out how to stick down here. When we left them last, they were being approached by a couple of crazy Canadians at their restaurant table, in the heart of Mérida.
This silver bearded man and his exotic looking, belly button pierced wife approach our table and he says, “You guys look lost!” I reply, “As a matter of fact, we are, does it look that obvious?” I invite them to sit and we meet Jerry and Jasmine from Nova Scotia. In a rush we describe our situation; we’re brand new to Mérida, we want cheap housing, and we’d like to be downtown. Jasmine, who is one of those women who makes best friends in minutes, says, “Well, you can have our place! It’s only a few blocks away. And it’s only 3000P per month!”
Jerry, hawk nosed and tallish, gives their background. He is retired from corporate life at age 60, you qualify for Canadian social security at that age, and Jasmine, a former accountant (with tattooed eyebrows) had been down here for 4 months scouting houses. They had bought one, here in Centro, and are now just waiting to close on it. They’d secured an apartment on Calle 59, the main east/west street that cleaves downtown, on a week to week basis and they should be closing on their house next week.
“Wow!” is all we can say. They go on to tell us of neat markets, cheap beer, (you cannot talk to a Canadian for five minutes without talking beer) and friendly locals. We exchange cell numbers and they invite us to visit and they are off.
Stunned, we finish our beers, settle our bill and head out. We take a right turn on Calle 62 heading north. I do appreciate the classic Spanish grid lay-out of the streets; all even numbered streets head north and south and all odd numbered streets go east and west. We still don’t have a plan as we weave our way through the throngs of people. As we walk we talk and decide the next order of business should be to take a look at Jerry and Jasmine’s place and why didn’t we think of that before they left? They had written their address down and while I’m trying to figure out how to get there, Mary spots them on the corner, and hollers at them.
National Lampoon’s Animal House
has emerged from the crowd and is approaching us. In a combination of English, Spanish, and Spanglish we are introduced and told of brand new apartments he is listing for the same 3000P per month. Jerry says we’d be crazy not to look at them and we bid adieu to our new friends and follow Fernando to his Chrysler minivan parked in an estacionamiento Their First Mistake movie , parking lot, a few blocks away.
Fernando takes us to his new complex, giving a mini-tour of the sights along the way, mostly in Spanish although he does try out a few English words that he is working on. Fernando is very proud of his city.
He parks the van and is happy to tell us that we are only a couple of blocks off Paseo de Montejo, a prime location for which we, at that time have no appreciation for whatsoever. The brand new one-bedroom, air-conditioned fully furnished apartment is nice and Fernando shows every aspect of it meticulously. Mary loves it and wants to commit on the spot but we confer. I really prefer like the idea of being in the heart of downtown. We tell Fernando that we will get back to him next week and he happily gives us a lift to the Santiago Mercado in Jerry and Jasmine’s downtown barrio.
We walk down Calle 59; this is a main bus route and noisy. We’re checking house and apartment numbers when suddenly I spy Jasmine through a wrought iron and concrete fence. Jasmine spots us at the same time. We hug again and sit down on their tiny patio fronting Calle 59 for beers and high energy conversation. Next door neighbor Veronica, another Canadian, joins us. Veronica is a skinny cigarette smoking woman who has resided in this apartment for 4 years and she loves landlord Fernando, who gave her a watch for her last birthday. She is quite the talker and we hear many stories about her colorful life. We also find that she is strangely proud of having no command of Spanish at all. I guess because she can get by without it.
We hear more of J&J’s background: Jerry’s early rock and roll career, their late in life marriage, Jasmine’s nasty car wreck that requires $3000 per month of pain meds which work really well with constant alcohol dosing. It’s a high time on the patio on Calle 59, the boom box and our conversations competing with the noise of the buses, finally culminating with Jerry breaking out some Xtabentum, Maya Ouzo, to toast our new-found friendship. After our toasts, we have to go. It’s getting dark and the buses quit running to Progreso pretty soon.
We take our leave with hugs and kisses and make our way to the Progreso bus terminal, then to the combi stand in Progreso, then to the combi stand in Chicxulub, and finally to our ½ mile long driveway to the condo. Listening and watching the waves lap in the moonlight, we sit on the deck for one last cocktail and toast our good fortune. This day has been a most excellent adventure.
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