May 13th, 2009
The April Exodus
La Playa de Progreso
Bruce and Mary have it made in shade, here in Mérida, México. They house sit a huge, beautiful casa and work part-time from their computers pool side and their only expenses are groceries, beer, the occasional night out and light entertaining. But as sweet as this deal is, one of the requirements of the agreement is to vacate whenever the owners use it. Join Bruce and Mary as they start their April exodus.
It’s Monday, April 13th and this is the day we must vacate “our” house for Ed and Jose, friends of the owners who do an occasional house swap with them for their Paris apartment. Not circles of people we usually find ourselves involved with but since we have come to Mérida over a year ago, our associations are multi-tax bracketed.
We wrap up our ICUC shifts and take a dip in the pool, it’s 106° today, folks. Then we pack an overnight bag and hop the Progreso bus to the beach. As we arrive at the depot we call our friend Les and he is there in his Rav 4 when we debark and get to the street. He is excited to see us and so is his spouse-mate Rich who gives us each a big hug when we get to their tidy little casa a block off the beach. After happy hour we sit down to an excellent meal of arugula salad followed by a delicious shrimp and rice dish. Les and Rich are quite the foodies. After dinner Les instructs us in the care of the house while they are gone visiting relatives in Toronto. Then the four of us relax in front of the tube. Time passes quickly and suddenly it’s 11 and time for all to hit the hay.
We’re up about 7 and the house is already bustling with activity as Les and Rich do their last minute packing. We are fed a quick and delicious breakfast and are out the door. We cruise the 6 lane highway back to Mérida and drop the boys off at the Mérida English Library, the rendezvous for a friend who is giving them a lift to Cancun International Airport.
We drive back to our house to do final cleaning. Before leaving, Mary being Mary prepares some botanitas for the visitors and pops them in the frig. Finally out the door, we walk with our gear the 2 blocks to Sharon’s house to set up shop for one night. Dave, our Brit friend who we had lined up to house sit for Sharon is back in the UK tending his sickly step-dad. So, we have a place to stay tonight, no need to make a late evening drive back to the beach. Around 6 we amble back to “our” house to meet and greet Ed and Jose who arrive from the airport by rented car. Ed is slender and quiet and Jose is big and boisterous with gestures to match. We all get along fabulously. We take them through all the mechanics and idiosyncrasies of this monster house and then we sit poolside to nibble botanas and sip beers for a bit before taking our leave with hearty farewells.
We sleep in at Sharon’s place, until 7:30, late for us and after downing a couple cups of coffee we walk over to La Chocolat for the 49P breakfast buffet. We waddle back to Sharon’s, load our gear in the car, and head out. I am very cautious driving and I don’t enjoy it at all (I enjoy driving in the States) but finally I’m on the open road and we’re quickly approaching Progreso and the Bodega Aurerra (another way to say Wal-Mart). At Bodega we pull into the huge parking lot and grab our list. We’re in and out quickly and we do enjoy the use of the car having shopped supplies here many times, the hard way – by foot and combi, when we lived in the Chicxulub beach side condo.
Properly supplied, we drive over to R&L’s (Rich and Les) casa and set up for the next week. The first thing we do is get our laptops online. Mine boots right up and connects. Mary’s computer is not so cooperative. She has signal but no connection; the message reads “need updated IP address” which of course means nothing to us. I Google talk our boss and friend Carl who is always available and he suggests some DOS stuff starting with “ipconfig”. That doesn’t do the trick either and we start to freak because we both have to work tomorrow. Carl tells us of a shop up the street that might be able help us. We race up there to find “Israel” who is an 18 yr old kid and he is willing to come with us that very moment. He doesn’t speak a word of English but after sitting down with Mary’s computer for 10 minutes it is online and humming. We are very, very, very pleased. We ask cuanto cuesto, how much? And he says diez and we think he nmeans $10US which seems cheap enough especially for an emergency house call but no, he meant 10P about 70 cents. We insist he take 20P and we give him a ride home where Mary gets the chance to tell his dad what a genius his son is.
With our blood pressure subsiding we decide to celebrate our little victory (doesn’t take much for us to celebrate) by heading to the beach. We drive down to the heart of the playa and we have to hunt a little to park a couple of blocks off the malecon. It is the tail end of Semana Santa, the Easter holiday when, for two weeks, Yucatecans take off from work and school to party non-stop. We find a palapa restaurant on the beach and order up beers, on ice, with limon and sal, salt, on the side. It is a perfect day. On a sudden urge, I sprint across the sand and dive into the ocean to cool down. I enjoy the little sips of saltwater that slip into my mouth. Back by Mary’s side, sitting in the shade of the palapa and dripping wet, I am at the perfect temperature on this bright April day. There’s an ultra-light gliding across the sky interrupting the noisy gulls, terns and pelicans as our food comes. Mary has ordered a chicken sandwich and I have treated myself to a pescado frito, a whole fish deep fat fried which, for fish (and lard) lovers, is to die for. I resist eating the eyeballs like I did the last time, but there is not enough left of the carcass for even a mouse to get a bite. We lounge for a bit longer and then head back to our temporary home, where we finish unpacking and decide to watch a little satellite TV, a real treat for us. The service is Sky TV
, a Canadian firm and it is the only legal satellite provider in Mexico. Some of the sitcoms have almost a Brit feel to them and are pretty hilarious.
The week on the beach passes quickly. We do socialize with our beach friends, having sumptuous BBQ steaks cooked over real coals, poolside at Carl and Joni’s and we have pizza and beer at Jaromey’s another evening. We are dismayed to hear from Jaromey’s local friend that his wholesale muffler business is down 40% and that, in his opinion the whole of Mexico is getting economically hammered. We feel guilty for being so isolated from this reality and ignorant of the devastation the global recession has wreaked here, where we live.
Today is Tuesday and our week on the beach has come to an end, it is getaway day and Mary is doing her usual white glove cleaning. I keep busy washing the car and with that done I start loading our gear. As I’m doing so I see, coming up our street from the beach, a little old lady in a bathing suit doddering along with her cane. I sense trouble so I do not make eye contact, but I hear an octogenarian voice ask, “Do you speak English?” I sigh. “Yes I do!” I say, trying to sound enthusiastic. She makes her way across the dirt road to explain that while lounging on the beach some local just took her “Liverpool” (large department store in Mérida) bag and despite her protestations and warnings of “Policia, Policia!” the rascal just kept walking up the road. This old gal has been in hot pursuit but her top end is only about 1 mph so the thief has been widening the gap. I invite her into the car and my Rav 4 eliminates the three block lead quickly. I roll down the window to gaze into the dark brown eyes of some local guy who is an old geezer himself. Flashing his gap toothed smile, he happily gives up the Liverpool bag telling us he had been protecting it. I do not thank him and we are on our way, with him waving and smiling at us in the rear view mirror. She checks the bag and sure enough a few pesos she had stashed for beach vendors are gone but on the whole she has escaped this incident quite undamaged. I quickly return her to where I found her thinking that octogenarian women, as a rule, shouldn’t wear low cut swim suits.
We finish packing and hit the road after saying good bye to Jorge our neighbor and R&L’s landlord. And once again we find ourselves back at Sharon’s.
Staying here for a week eerily brings us back to last summer when we lived here. We were both immersed in the book project when we got the late night call about my brother’s unexpected death. We flew back to MN immediately and did what you do and came right back to lose ourselves in the book project. So in our minds, this place has uncomfortable connections to unfiled emotions. But at least we have a place to stay as R&L are back tomorrow.
It’s Wednesday and Mary has worked the 8-noon and I have just wrapped up the noon to 4. We immediately jump into the car as R&L are due at the bus depot shortly. At the depot, we help them stow their gear and we are off to La Choperia where we have promised them dinner. They had heard about the place, foodies that they are, and they are glad to discover it isn’t just a place for drinks as they enjoy the steak meal very much.
We have a low keyed conversation as the boys have been up since 4 this morning. These Mérida trips can be exhausting. Usually they begin with an early morning flight, a layover somewhere, usually Houston or Atlanta, and then the connecting flight into Cancun to board a bus for the ½ hr ride to the downtown bus terminal and the grand finale is a 4 hour bus ride across low scrub jungle which would make ND scenery look diverse. Some do fly directly into Mérida at a much higher cost.
The boys and Mary have dessert, I have another beer. After cheers all around we walk our friends to their car in the back parking lot and amidst hugs we say our goodbyes and we walk the five blocks back to Sharon’s
The week at Sharon’s is pretty dreary; work, work, work and it is hot, with no swimming pool! I know, poor babies. But we do not run the a/c, trying to keep the electric bill low for Sharon. We are able to sleep at night with the heavy duty industrial strength ceiling fan on high.
Finally it is Monday, the last day of our two week exodus and we’re excited because after our two shifts we will finally be back home and not living out of a suitcase anymore! Mary is done at noon and she starts hauling groceries the two blocks to our awaiting home. When my shift is done at 4, Mary is so well organized that all we have to do is pack the computers, grab the packed big bag and hit the road.
Finally back home, we throw our bag on our bedroom floor, grab a couple of beers and dive into our pool. There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home Pride & Prejudice release The Last of the Mohicans movie download !
It’s too bad Bruce couldn’t have tapped his ruby slippers a couple weeks ago, eh!
Thanks for visiting gentle reader and as usual Bruce appreciates any and all commentary. Hasta pronto!
