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Ramblin Rose

Welcome kind reader. At this point in the story, Bruce and Mary contemplate the next move toward their goal of owning the Ramblin Rose B&B, on the Mexican Gulf Coast.

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We are settled into out comfy one bedroom apartment in downtown Mérida and having cocktails on our tiny patio fronting busy Calle 59 when Mary surprises me by saying, “I really want that B&B.” We’d been so busy with our move into the city and getting an orientation to our city lives that this is the first chance we’ve had to talk about our pursuit of the Ramblin Rose B&B on the Gulf Coast shore just outside of the little fishing village of Chuburna Puerto.

“Really?” I respond. “Yes, it would be so cool to have the kids down, and Neil and Kevin and Rosie and it’s small enough that we wouldn’t be in over our heads.”

I certainly agree, this whole idea of owning a small hotel or B&B in México has been my baby from the start and I was glad to hear that Mary, although always supportive of this idea, was now so enthusiastic. We start putting pen to paper and we come up with an offer that we feel we can afford. Dan, the Ramblin Rose owner, had made it clear on our last visit that he would entertain offers involving owner financing.

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I quickly call Dan and he is glad to hear from us. He says that would be great to have us over to talk details, tomorrow morning.

We are up early the next day to hoof it over to the Progreso bus terminal where we hop the 8:30 Chuburna bus. Just outside Mérida we leave the super highway to meander through seemingly a hundred tiny pueblas on our way to the Ramblin Rose. At one point we find ourselves playing chicken with a car coming right at us on this 1 ½ lane tarred road with no shoulder. I figure it must be some stupid gringo or Canuck but I see just as our bus veers at the last second, that it is a local looking right at us. I get slapped by some low jungle brush through the open window and spend the next several minutes picking twigs out of my tank top. Thankfully the rest of our 90 minute, 35 kilometer journey is uneventful.

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We are greeted at the inn by a cheerful Dan and we re-familiarize ourselves with the place. It is just as we remember it. We quiz Dan again on the book of business. He explains again, that it is hard to say, he hasn’t yet completed a full year, but he assures us that he was quite busy with local clients last summer. With his new website in place, he tells us that the winter business is growing, as well. We rehash the cost of utilities and other overhead and then Harriet, Dan’s wife, joins us for a tour of the area in Dan’s extended cab Chevy pickup.

We cruise down Chuburna’s main street to the far side of town and then onto a dirt road to a secluded beach area where Dan has heard rumors that a major hotel chain is building a beach resort. Then Dan takes us to a ria inlet that is great for fishing, right off the ruined bridge abutments. I get a little turned around but then I get my bearings as we come back into town by the baseball field. I am surprised to hear that town team baseball is big here.

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We’re bouncing along the beach road towards the B&B again as Dan points out two colorful, renovated houses on the beach that belong to a couple of Canadians who enjoy some very positive cash flow renting them out as vacation properties. I ask if his experience is similar to ours, that Canadians want to talk about sex all the time. He says these two Canucks happen to be gay but yes, he was just at a party where the Canadian hostess could talk of nothing else, in between beers. Crazy Canadians.

I see the time is approaching 1:00 when our bus to Mérida is due at the bus stop in town. Dan is happy to whisk us there and while we wait in his air conditioned cab for the bus, I make our proposal. Dan and Harriet listen intently as I explain our offer. The offer is full price for the Ramblin Rose, in exchange for only 25% down and owner financing with monthly interest-only payments and a five year balloon. I hold my breath to see if he’ll dismiss it out of hand but instead he simply nods his head and says, “I’ll get back to you tomorrow, but if we do this deal I want to close by June 1^st.” As it is April 1^st today, I don’t see any difficulty and I’m pretty excited by his response, “Sure, no problema!” I blurt out.

Right then the bus rounds the corner and pulls over. We say our farewells and exit the truck for the bus.

The bus ride back to Mérida takes no time at all as Mary and I are giddy with the idea of actually owning a B&B in México. We both agree that it is plain that Dan will accept our offer.

The sun is setting as we are enjoying cervezas on our little patio fronting Calle 59. We are having fun with the idea of running the Ramblin Rose but then I start having buyer’s remorse even though we haven’t actually bought the place, yet. We start doing the mental calculations for the expense involved in furnishing the Spartan-like units, installing TVs, DVD players, and mini-fridges for the units and the cost of converting the room off the kitchen into a fourth unit. And I realize that I have not, until now, even considered the closing costs. We do the rough math and it seems that we will be dangerously close to the absolute minimum bank balance comfort zone that we had established for ourselves before we set forth on our escape to México.

But then we have a couple more beers and talk excitedly of how near we are to our dream of serving cocktails with little umbrellas to our guests, relatives, and friends, on the deck of our own Mexican B&B while watching the sun set into the Gulf of México. On this pleasant picture we hit the hay.

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It’s 3AM and I am having the first panic attack of my life. I wake Mary up and I let it all hang out. This is a pipe dream, we don’t have enough money and we’ve made this mistake before. I remind Mary of the joke the banker told us shortly before he shuttered our Minnesota restaurant, years ago, “Know how to make a little money in the hospitality business?” “Start with a lot!” he finished. We both realize with crystal clarity that we have been drunk with the romantic idea of running a B&B catering to our kids and friends, grinning slyly as our whole network cheered us on with a few friends actually becoming a little jealous of us. We suddenly realize, now, that we came down here to escape, not to have another heart attack trying to crack a nut relying upon people walking through the door of our highly leveraged business.

I wait until the decent hour of nine before calling Dan. Naturally before I can say anything he gushes that he accepts our offer and already has his English speaking attorney working on the paper work. Dan, to his credit shows great restraint in refraining from the use of any four letter words when I renege on our offer.

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As I hang up our $10 Mexican cell phone I say to Mary, “I feel like we just dodged a bullet.” But it does take us months to finally cure ourselves of this most addictive dream: owning a Mexican B&B.

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Thanks for visiting, gentle reader. What’s with these two, anyhow? They have the lucky chance, with their meager resources, to own their own B&B and they just walk away. Well, as you have already guessed, the title to the next post is, “Now What?” Bruce appreciates all comments and to do so, simply click on the title of the post and scroll down. Happy trails! Terror by Night download

Ramblin Rose B & B

Bruce and Mary are nearing the end of the vacation part of their escape to México. At this point in their saga they are scrambling to find an income property as a way of sticking down here, being that they have little money and no income. Here’s a hint as to their success: This day took place last March and they are still down here. Let’s see how that works out.

 

 

The day dawns bright on this March day on the Gulf of México. Our plans for the day are to check out a Progreso gym and get online at La Habana to see if there are more income properties that we can investigate. We walk the long walk to the highway in about 70

degrees, this el norte keeps faking us out and hanging in

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there. I’m

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After about 20 minutes we hail a combi full of…Canadians. A comedian in the group hollers, “I guess you’ll have to ride on the roof!” and guffaws like some cartoon character. Mary finds herself squeezing in next to him and he’s an okay guy once Mary engages him in conversation. At the transfer in Chicxulub we find ourselves surrounded by Canadians again on the combi into Progreso. We witness an odd stereotype reversal: a mild mannered New Jerseyan is getting run over by a sabe lo todo, know-it-all Canuck woman telling him how things are, here on the beach. I’m glad we finally see the gym and debark this Canadian combi from hell.

 The Shangrila gym is your typical Mexican gym; mismatched plates lying all over the place, homemade resistance machines, and human powered treadmills alongside upright bikes with friction wheels. After a walk around, careful not to bang shins on the crowded equipment, we shell out the very reasonable drop-in fee of 25P, about two bucks each, and get to work. Starting off with abs, I intend to get a total body work-out in. Mary sticks to just legs. I work my way to chest and when I get to the bench press rack, it becomes quite apparent that this equipment is built for very small people. I am 6’ tall but a giant in Yucatan, which is 2/3rds populated by the diminutive Maya. I am practically doing close-grip presses, the rack is so narrow, and I have to be careful not to pinch my hands upon racking up. I start to work my back, doing pull-ups when a local asks for a spot. I am happy to help, personal trainer that I am. I am quite pleased to be counting his pull-ups in Espanol and I give him a little help to get his desired seis, six reps. “Muchas Gracias!” “De nada.” That was fun.

Mary and I wrap up our workouts, and we are sweating, the day has heated up considerably and we feel pretty righteous in our soaked through workout togs. I love working out in the heat. I don’t understand those people who want air conditioning in their gym and don’t want to sweat. I am reminded of my best chest day ever, in an open air gym in Acapulco, temperature mid 90s, when I repped a couple of plates 11 times; by far my best bench press set ever. I know, that pales next to my 300 pound football playing nephew Eli, but it’s not bad for an old guy.

We amble up to La Habana and settle in for an internet session and a midday meal. First Mary fires off emails to the kids. As she is doing so, we notice that Helen, our daughter has just signed on to Skype. We call her immediately and have fun getting caught up. I ask if Frisco, our old pellet emitting, senile cat is still on life support. I am informed that Frisco is now her cat and she will expend whatever efforts and expense are necessary before that final trip to the vet. Mary says, referencing her diabetes, “I hope you won’t be sending me to the vet any time soon!” Everyone is laughing except me. Our food comes, cutting short the women’s Bruce-as-target practice. That’s what happens when your kids grow up and join your wife in knowing how much hot air you are made of. Could be worse, at least our three grown kids still like me, I think.

Mary has her Christians and Moors; black beans and rice but this time it is topped with blackened slices of what looks like meat of some sort. Mary, with two of our kids being vegan, is a vegan wannabee. She still eats meat sometimes, but she feels guilty about it. She has me sample it and I am quite proud in actually being able to identify something that I am eating other than simply being able to tell you if I like it or not. It is very tasty fried plantain. Mary is relieved and I get about my chicken tamales which are very filling.

Back on the internet I do find three new possibilities: a restaurant in Mérida for 75G, a house with two rental units for 50G, and the most exciting prospect, a B&B called the Ramblin Rose on the coast outside Chuburna for 119G. We leave the realtors’ website and are rewarded by finding the Rambling Rose’s own site. It looks pretty cool. We see a Skype number and call. Dan, the owner answers and we have a very pleasant conversation. We arrange to visit the next day and I think Dan is as excited as we are. We have supplies to get so Mary and I delay our exact strategy for this look-see until tonight, for now it’s onward ho to the Bodega Aurerra, the Walmart owned big box grocery and all purpose store. It’s a 10 block hike to the Bodega and I do believe this el norte is finally over because it has to be in the 90’s.

Progreso is hopping with tourists, a cruise ship has come to port. I detect southern accents from many of these pale faces and I come to find that is because most of these cruises originate out of Houston. Funny, I’d never thought of Houston in the same category as Miami or San Diego.

We’re in the store and as is always the case, what initially feels like over air conditioning feels just perfect about the time you exit into the steamy heat. Mary shops blood glucose testing strips and they cost about 400P per 50. At today’s exchange that is about $35US. These strips used to be covered by our health insurance but we’re self insured now, that is, without. Mary bemoans her “habit” but I remind her that our insurance used to cost about $200 per month plus the co-pays. Her attitude improves considerably and she buys this necessity.

I think I’ve gotten quite clever in dealing with the Mexican beer conundrum in that we have settled on a beer named Gallo, rooster which is actually a Guatemalan import. Gallo is about as cheap as the Hamm’s I gladly left behind in my old life. And, I have been really smart, using our wheeled carryon to transport two cases at a crack, to the combi stop.

Back out in the heat I traverse the skinny sidewalks and negotiate the curbs with our wide load. Suddenly the carryon puts on the brakes. Upon inspection I see that I have totally destroyed one of the wheels. The rest of the way I can’t decide which is worse, dragging it on one dead wheel or hoisting this awkward 50 pounds of beat up carryon.

Finally we are back to the condo and I am slimy with sweat. I don my trunks and dive into the ocean which is absolutely tranquil on this gorgeous day. There are bigger waves on Lake LeHomme Dieu, back in our old home Alexandria, MN. As I cool off and relax in shoulder deep water I am treated to the site of three dolphins breeching about 100 meters off. We have had only a few dolphin sightings.

After an interesting and tasty meal of nopales, cactus and pasta, we retire to our deck to watch the setting sun and talk about the Ramblin Rose. We make a list, we love making lists, of the things to look for and the questions to ask, but mostly we daydream about how neat it would be to have our own B&B on the coast of the Gulf of México, catering to our kids and their near spouses and our network of friends. What could be cooler?

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. This Ramblin Rose prospect sounds almost too good to be true, don’t you think? What do you think will stymie this deal? Or do you think it really  is Bruce and Mary’s karma to own this cute B&B? Please stay tuned, as the next post will be coming soon. As usual, Bruce appreciates any and all posts and all will be acknowledged, in real time. To comment, click on the post title and scroll down. Happy trails to you!

Libros y Suenos Lobby

Bruce and Mary are still in the vacation mode of their escape to México, but they are nearing the end of their month on the beach. Today they check out an income possibility; a small hotel in Telchac Puerto on the Gulf Coast. Join them as they wait for a bus on the highway in front of their condo. Boogeyman rip

We’re pretty excited about this expedition into Telchac Puerto. The small hotel there that we want to investigate looks quite promising, on the internet. We’ve been standing in the sun for about 45 minutes waiting for a bus, but it is pleasant. This el norte,

cold front, is finally winding down, there’s not a cloud in the sky, no wind, and the temperature is cool, maybe mid 70s. In other words, it is a perfect day for traveling.

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Now it’s been an hour and I wonder if we’ll ever see an east bound bus, we’ve seen plenty of west bound. We’re just about to give it up for the day when Mary says, “Let’s wait for one more car.” And sure enough, right then a beat up green bus rounds the bend.

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We flag the bus and Mary asks how much. The bus driver says, “Veinte pesos.” Mary figures this is per person so she gives him four 10P coins. The driver gives her one back and as we’re sitting down, he and his buddy start heehawing. Mary catches a snatch of it and she says to me, “They’re laughing at me!” “Why?” I ask. “Because I thought it was 20P each but that was the total and he tipped himself a peso, and he thinks it’s funny as hell!”  I seldom see my mild mannered Mary that fired up, so while she stews I just stay clear. Final Destination dvdrip

Ocean front development becomes less crowded and more luxurious as we head east. We ogle at many million dollar homes. As we’re enjoying this sensuous Mexican bus riding experience, with odors as pungent as the colors are vivid, I feel a need to exchange gases with the atmosphere, a little more out than in. Normally I’m polite about these things but now I figure who’s going to know and sure enough I am

the only one who knows that this silent-but-deadly emanates from me, not the great Mexican outdoors.

We see a sign telling us that Telchac Puerto is 4 kms away and we start scanning our surroundings as we enter the outskirts of this little fishing village. A woman walks to the front of the bus and says, “Baja!” The bus brakes to let her out so I think, for some reason, we should exit too.

We’re on the main street of this coastal village that is laid out like a ribbon. I look to my left and it is a couple blocks to the ocean front and to my right it’s a couple of blocks to the low, scrub jungle. Mary is not happy that we did not ride the bus further into town but what the heck, it is a nice day for walking. We have walked perhaps a kilometer when I spot a rare two story building up the block. I can see a “Hotel” sign and when we get opposite the building I see a sign that says, “Libros y Sueños”; this is it!

We just stand there and gaze at it. It’s weird to see in bright daylight a sight that we had only seen on photos on the internet, way last fall and way up north, back home in Minnesota.

We cross the street and enter the tiny lobby and are greeted by a woman named Susan, who is a lively one. After our meet and greet, she turns to Mary and says, “So how does it feel to be married to Sean Connery?” “I get that a lot.” Mary responds. I attribute this to my similar male pattern baldness.

We get into a conversation about the place. The owner, Marion, is in Mérida at the moment but Susan, who is a property manager friend from….Canada, is quite forthright about the particulars of the listing. She tells us that it is listed for $199,000 but 175 will buy it. The motivation is the fact that her husband is back in Canada, of course, running a horse farm and the horses are not doing well, making it impossible for him to join her down here. Susan says, “I tell them, after all these years, come on! But they’re hopeless.” What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? hd

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Susan directs us to Pasquel the hotel handyman for a tour of the 8 units and the cute little bookstore off the lobby. They units are spartan, but clean. We rejoin Susan in the eclectically furnished lobby, complete with big screen TV. We quiz her about the clientele, room rates, occupancy rates, and overhead. Susan is quite knowledgeable and happy to answer all our questions. We pardon ourselves to take the short walk to the ocean to talk privately. This place is really cool! We walk back and ask Susan to have Marion give us a call on our cell when she gets in. We tell her to ask if Marion will consider financing and if so, how much down. Susan is happy to do so. We’re practically skipping as we exit the hotel to flag a bus.

While waiting for a bus and dreaming out loud about this, maybe our hotel, a Chrysler minivan pulls over and a middle aged man hops out of the passenger’s seat. This friendly guy wonders if we are looking for something. It seems that we look lost, a lot. We tell him that we’re waiting for the Progreso bus. He says, “We’re heading into Progreso. We can give you a ride and we’re a lot cheaper than the bus, well not a lot cheaper, they are pretty cheap!” We squeeze into the third row bench seat and engage in a spirited conversation with these, you guessed it, Canadians. These two couples have retired early, being around 50 I guess, and spend half the year in twin beach side condos that they point out to us as we pass them on the road out of town. Our quick paced chatter is interrupted only by a, “Look Flamingos!” We crane our necks the landward side of the road to get a look at the flock on the horizon of the ria wetlands. The only way you can tell they’re flamingos at this distance is the distinctly pink color of the haze of birds.

We arrive at our condo driveway. Lance and Carol Ann, Bruno and Janet wish us a hearty farewell and make us promise to stop in for brews sometime. They are

Canadian, after all.

We’re buoyantly walking the dirt driveway, when our $10 Mexican cell phone rings. It is Marion, the owner of Libros y Sueños. She very politely tells us that she is not willing to finance any portion of the purchase price, but thanks anyhow.

We’re back to square one and we feel, quite naturally, pretty deflated. But we’re still here in México and that ain’t bad. On to plan B.

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Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Next, Bruce and Mary check out a B&B. Do you think they will have any better luck with that? Bruce enjoys any and all commentary. To do so, please click on the title of the post and scroll down. All commentary is acknowledged, almost immediately.

Xcambo, Mayan Ruins near Telchac Puerto

Bruce and Mary are still in vacation mode at this point in their escape to México while they lounge in their Gulf Coast beachside condo just outside Chicxulub Puerto. However, Mary is getting a little antsy. Let’s see how that plays out.

I can hear the waves crashing above the howl of the wind for the first time in a couple days, as I awake in the predawn dusk. Perhaps El Norte is abating. The wind has been knocking us off our feet lately. But now I can see the sun rise on a clear, cloudless day. It’s about 62 F, now, and the temp has not risen above 70 during this February Mexican cold spell.

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Mary arises and makes our usual colorful, fruit-filled breakfast and I have my usual sardines for dessert and I do my usual busing and washing of dishes. After these small chores, I see Mary sitting on the patio gazing out over the sun-splashed ocean and looking somewhat pensive. I ask, “Is anything wrong?” “I’m just getting restless,” she replies. “That’s my advantage over you.” I playfully respond. “What?” she says. “That’s my advantage, I’m a lot lazier than you, and it takes a lot more down-time for me to get restless.”

I’m the only one who laughs at my joke.

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We do some self taught Yoga out of a book and then head down to the beach for some more exercise. We’re both gym nuts and I’m a certified trainer, so we have been doing some body weight resistance but very little cardio. So we hit the beach for a jog, avoiding the beachcombers and sharp things. After this righteous little workout I dive into the ocean and I swear it is 15 degrees cooler than a couple of days ago. Then we clean up and prepare for a jaunt into Chicxulub for a few essentials and mostly to just get out of the house. An el norte can give you a little cabin fever.

On the ½ mile walk to the highway, Tom, of Tom and Pam from Spokane fame Eight Below move , pulls up in his little rental car he’d secured for a few days while their friends had been visiting, and offers us a lift into Chic. We chat and Tom tells how Pam has been mooning over their little 3 year old granddaughter. He tells us that he loves his grandkids and kids, too, but by golly he’s a grown man and he’s not going to get homesick for his kids. I think I know why Tom is alone on this trip into town.

We have Tom drop us off at Los Barrilos, the main watering hole in town and we invite him in for a beer for the favor of a ride in. We chat for a bit and then Tom takes off for his errands and I fire up the computer, log into the free wifi, and pay the last of my utility bills. Our renter takes over from here.

As we’re checking emails, a gringo couple, mid 60s (?) introduce themselves. Austin is a professorial looking man with a closely cropped full beard and Lorraine is a darkly tanned, wizened woman who dominates conversation between the two of them. And no, they are not gringos, they are…Canadians. They are curious about our use of the laptop. They have always relied upon internet cafes when vacationing down here. Our little primer on wifi convinces them to bring their older laptop, with a wifi card, down with them next year. As we converse further it becomes apparent that they, like most Canadians we’ve met, know more about American affairs and politics than we do. I vow to myself to at least memorize the provinces and know off the tip of my tongue who the Prime Minister is because I have to pause and think to know it is Harper, Stephen Harper; right good reader?

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They take their leave and I ask Mary to get out the folder on possible B&Bs and small hotels in this area that we had researched back in Minnesota. After our conversation this morning I feel like it’s time to get on task. We look over our printout of a little hotel called Libros y Suenos. It’s affordable if they’ll finance, and we decide to visit first chance. We look at an online map and Telchac Puerto looks to be about 30 kms east of here. But we don’t know how to get there, and we can’t afford a taxi for that distance. We both walk over to Austin and Lorraine’s table and they are happy to help. No, the combis don’t go that far east, but the regular bus goes there and beyond. They thought we should be able to flag a bus right from the highway in front of our condo and the buses run that direction about every half hour, they thought.

Returning to our table, we order another beer and ask for botanas, it’s about time to eat something. The botanas here range toward seafood: Pescado ceviche, pulpa, with cold creamed potatoes and carrots with taco chips of course, which suits me fine. Mary opts for the  sopa de lima. The waiter comes back to tell us they are out. She orders the Chicken and rice sopa

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, soup. Same story and for the same reason, we find, they are out of chicken. Mary orders frijoles, which they have.

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While we wait for our food I go onto the sidewalk to sun myself, like a lizard. This el norte is still hanging on, the temp is only low 70s, and the restaurant with the ceiling fans going is a little chilly for me in my tank top.

The food comes and as Mary and I dig in, we talk of how it feels good to have a little direction in our lives with this plan to check out Libros y Suenos. Actually I could stay

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in vacation mode forever. But Mary is not built that way and neither are our finances.

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We settle up the bill, pick up a few essentials and schlep our way back to the condo. This trip into Telchac Puerto should prove most interesting.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Will Bruce and Mary find true happiness at Libros y Suenos? Please stay tuned to see what Bruce and Mary’s strange karma brings. As usual, Bruce appreciates any and all comments. He promises to respond to all in very short order.

  Kate & Leopold