setfreeinmexico.com

Now that Bruce and Mary have been moderating comments on a Canadian news website for over a year they consider themselves experts on stereotyping as that is one of the things that they guard against. Read on as Bruce employs those dark skills.

Well, we have been on the lam in México for over two years now and we feel that we have somewhat of a handle on the local culture and people. Following are some of our favorite stereotypes of a people that we have grown to love:

All Yucatecans are Yucatecans first, Mexicans second. It is not uncommon to hear a Yucatecan (when planning a trip to another state) say, “I’m going to Mexico next week.”

All Yucatecans hate DF (Mexico City).

When you ask a Yucatecan for directions, you will always get them, whether they know where your destination is or not. We think that is because they don’t want to disappoint.

When visiting, Yucatecans will never leave until you ask them to, and if it has been overlong, they will bolt when given permission.

Yucatecans love to drink beer and there are no ornery drunks, but a few falling down ones.

All Yucatecan babies and toddlers are unbelievably cute. And the average age of their parents appears to be 15.

All Yucatecan women (except Mayan madres) bare their midriffs whether they should or not.

The bigger a Yucatecan hombre’s belly is the more he will want to pull up his t-shirt and rub it.

Yucatecan pedestrians have no peripheral vision and will force you to walk out onto the street to avoid

running them over, on the skinny centro sidewalks.

Yucatecan drivers have the uncanny ability to gage whether they need to slow down so as not to hit you in the crosswalk. If they calculate that they will miss you by an inch, their foot never leaves the gas pedal.

Yucatecans love to work. They will, with a smile, work in the hot sun all day long, cracking jokes with their compatriots.

Yucatecans love to party and there are approximately 350 dias de festiva per year.

All Yucatecans are musicians or artists or both along with their day jobs.

Yucatecans burst into song walking down the street all the time.

Yucatecan MCs love to talk, and will do so ad nauseum, especially when you’re waiting for the music to begin.

All Yucatecans can dance like Fred and Ginger.

Yucatecans love their music at 140Db. Amazingly they can converse at this sound level and even talk on cell phones.

All Yucatecans have cell phones.

Mexican time is real, Yucatecans are always two hours late for any engagement.

Yucatecans can sleep anywhere, at anytime, even on a 15 minute ride on a rickety city bus.

If you admire a Yucatecan  señora’s jewelry, she will remove it and give it to you, no questions asked, and no thanks or money accepted.

Should you give a Yucatecan a regalo, gift, they are very gracious but they will not open it in your presence and you will never receive a thank you card.

You will never be shortchanged in a Mercado. In fact, should you walk away without your change the vendor will hunt you down, shouting “Cambio, Cambio!”

And my all time favorite stereotype is: Should a gringo walk into any Yucatecan cantina, said gringo will instantly become a rock star.

Thanks for visiting gentle reader and feel free to share with Bruce your stereotypes, but please be nice. Hasta Luego!

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

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.

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

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

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!

Bruce and Mary are about to have the pleasure of hosting our long time friends Kevin and Rosie for the third time, here in Mérida, but this will be the first time in the casa grande that they have the good fortune to be house-sitting, presently. Please share in the fun.

Kevin and Rosie had always flown directly into Mérida but then Kevin was still burning up his frequent flyer miles accrued during his long career with Tyson Foods. But, with those freebies gone they opted to do as many do who fly in from the Midwest. They took a far cheaper charter into Cancun and took the bus on that incredibly boring 4 hour ride into Mérida. We had walked them through the process of buying the shuttle tix at the airport and finding the shuttle bus and then buying the Mérida tix in the Cancun bus station and we had them print out our address for a cabbie from CAME, Mérida’s main bus depot, as most cabbies here do not speak any English.

So, it is Wednesday, January 20^th and we (Mary mostly) have been doing the little, last minute details of readying for guests. We have tracked their flights into Houston and Cancun. Kevin has his cell activated for international calls and so far no news is good news. It’s 7:15pm and the doorbell rings. We spring to the door and there they are! At the door there are hugs all around and then we lead them the 93 paces to the master bedroom. Even though they had a brief tour their last visit when we lived on Calle 52, they are, as all guests are, overwhelmed by the scale of this place and they are very impressed with the 1000 square foot master with a walk in bath completed by a glass walled shower with twin adjustable height shower heads and Japanese Soaking tub.

While they’re organizing their room we bring out botanas and margaritas and red wine to the patio table on the promenade. We dig into the chow and start drinking and getting caught up. Luckily the weather has changed back to normal. For two weeks, until just yesterday, we had been freezing in the evenings while watching our movies at the patio table. We were wearing long pants, thermal shirts and Mary would wrap herself with a blanket. The highs were barely reaching 80, sometimes not, and the lows had been in the low 60s. Maybe we have gone native, but it was very uncomfortable. This evening, I’m in shorts and tank top and the girls are sitting at the pool dangling their legs in the water. This is normal for this time of year.

Kevin and Rosie have been up since 3:30am this morning and we have a work day tomorrow so we call it quits about 10:30pm and everyone hits the sack.

It’s Thursday morning and Mary is up at her usual 5:00am for her 6:00 shift, and I am up at my usual 6:30 and I get about my routine which is to make 2^nd breakfasts for Mary and me (my first is nibbling while I make 2^nd) and I double the size of the fruit and avocado for Kevin and Rosie and include some special breakfast breads that Mary had picked up. Kevin is up about the time that I’m wrapping up my kitchen chores and he and I go on the roof to get a little cardio in. But first he wants me to explain the roof lines which I do as I point out the 18’ ceilings of the old part of the house at the front, the 16′ ceilings of the newer suites, and then this 14’ new addition that we are standing on. The media room is behind us, stacked on top of the master bath. It’s a bit difficult for Kevin to match up the rooflines with the interior but finally he aligns it in his head. Then I do my karate and Kevin does his Pilates. I am impressed that he has a good 20 minute routine memorized. Back downstairs Rosie joins Kevin for breakfast as I set up my desktop for my shift, shower up, chow down, do dishes, and log into work.

Kevin and Rosie have their own keys and they take off to entertain themselves, checking out Paseo de Montejo, the Champs-Elysees of the Yucatan. Kevin and Rosie are great guests. They understand that although this house may seem like a Boutique Hotel and this is México, the playground of vacationing gringos, this is our home, where we live and work.

I log off at 4pm and it is happy hour. Kevin jacks in his IPod to our promenade music system and regales us with the all the hottest wedding reception songs and some great stories from their gigs operating as DyerSoundWorks. I especially liked the story about the Johnnies depanting. We break from our play to have dinner in the dining room. Mary has prepared a pork roast and it is good but as Mary feared it is a little dry. It is hard for even an excellent cook such as Mary to accommodate the leanness of the pork cuts down here. But it is plenty good enough for us as we revisit the promenade, waddling.

We party and listen to more music, which is starting to stray towards country western, which Kevin knows I hate, so he accommodates me but does play some crossover stuff which he knows I like just to prove that I don’t really hate country western. Ok, I give up. We go until about midnight and then to bed.

It’s Friday and we’re off work and everyone is sleeping in. Once everyone is moving and functioning with plenty of coffee in our bellies Mary makes a scrambled eggs breakfast and then we head up to Wal-Mart for supplies. Kevin and I help the girls, with all our goods, to the far side of Paseo to await a taxi home while we truck up to California gym for a workout. I do my usual circuit routine and Kevin does his Pilates routine but I do talk him into a little unilateral resistance. You see, Kevin was one of the platoons of wounded soldiers who made it into St. Cloud Hospital’s emergency room on X-mas day, by way of reaching into his snow-blower. It was shut down, but the machine kicked back and pretty much crushed and nearly amputated his left index finger. Being a southpaw it was even more of a bummer. And even after extensive surgery and, unlike me, adherence to Doc’s instructions, it is still one ugly swollen up and colorful finger, but at least he is down to just a removable splint at this point. We wrap up our workouts and I am a little disappointed, for Kevin’s sake, that none of my roids boyfriends had made the scene because they are something to behold.

We leisurely walk our way back to the house and I join Mary in preparing for our little party this evening. After much talk with our friends we have finally gotten around to hosting the first Friday Night Happy Hour. We had sent a batch invite to our gringo and local friends with the instructions that happy hour starts at 5, every Friday, and everyone brings their own beverages and a botana to share, and by the end of happy hour someone will have volunteered for the next happy hour. And absolutely no RSVPs, come if you feel like it, don’t if you don’t.

Mary wins the bet and Jerome is the first guest to arrive, Jerome is a Coloradan who vacations here, and

ironically he is renting the vacation property that was our home for the final three months of our book project push. Shortly behind him is Dave the Brit with his “team” in tow. Dave is opening up a fish and chips shop and a deli and he has put together an impressive team of locals to run the interference. Team Varon, Lulu, and Jorge bear bags of beers and Varon has brought along some test empanadas that Mary heats up. They are a hit.

By 8:00pm I count about 25 people on the promenade. The elegant Tonya, my former personal training client, with hubby Bob have made the scene with their NY friends Francis and Sandra. Enrique a DF refugee, has come with his wife Mary (not Marie, I know, weird), daughter Dianna, hubby Alberto and their little 4 yr old Nina. Only Enrique speaks English, having worked for Ford. Enrique is almost exactly my age (and Mary, Mary’s) and he, like me has quit the corporate life to cobble things together until social security. Only difference is, like Canada, what we call social security starts for him at age 60.

I am cruising the party doing what I do, trying to tie it all together and I am able to get most of the non-English speaking locals into one group. Then I take a break and find the cool people, the smokers, to take a few hits on my cohiba that I had parked earlier. This gives me a chance to get to know Fred. Fred and Jan who have lived here for 6 years and they, as opposed to almost everyone we know, rent their house, they do not own, and they talk as if they never will. And why should they, as they have lived on the beach in a couple locations, and here in town, they are not even close to their original rental budget of $1500/mo that they established prior to their move. Right now they have a very nice house in a northern suburb (two blocks from the only bowling alley in Mérida) for $500/mo. Fred and Jan have just launched the Gold Book and used Yucatan Today for the publisher as we did for our Living in Mérida book. What started out as a conversation about the virtues of my Cohiba cigars opposed to his Te Amos has me hearing Mayor Daly stories from his days as the Fire Chief of Chicago.

Finally it occurs to me as people are starting to leave that we have no volunteer for next Friday. I make the announcement. There is an awkward moment before Lorcan, our Irish Canadian friend, and Lexi his vivacious wife bite the bullet and volunteer, even though they had told me privately, earlier, that they were just finishing up with a remodeling project.

It is down to Dave and his team and me and Kevin, the hard core, and finally I announce last call and everyone has been booted by 2. Oh boy, I’m too old for this.

Saturday we all sleep in and just relax. It is hot getting well into the 90s so we spend a lot of time in the pool and Kevin and I also get our chess rivalry going. Man, it is depressing because he just kicks my butt the first two games and that is all I want today. Then we head to El Lucero del Alba, one of our neighborhood bars, just a block away. This is a nice place with air conditioning, big screen TVs and bathrooms that not only have toilet seats but even paper towels! The free botanas come and it starts at level one with all kinds of taco rollups. Then stage two comes which today is chorizo, a sausage. Kevin insists it is chopped organ meat and will only taste it. I have our favorite server Lucio come by to explain that despite the deep red color of the ground meat inside the crispy casing, it is indeed pollo. Suddenly Kevin likes it. We wait for stage three which is usually poc chuc, or pollo ticuleño, with the presentation of a gourmet meal but instead we get some cheese-it type crap which we know signifies the end of the botanas. Once again we have overpromised a joint but Kevin and Rosie don’t seem to mind as they pick up the check and we move on. We have a pretty cool arrangement worked out. Mary’s mother Harriet, sis Sue and friend Nancy provided the model but how it goes is we provide everything inside the “compound” and Kevin and Rosie do that outside. Now with Harriet and Sue’s visit, being there were three of them and only two of us they volunteered some help with supplies as well. We hate to be concerned about such things and if we were rich and not working stiffs we wouldn’t be but otherwise, guests can be an economic impact.

We leave El Lucero’s and the sun has set. We walk towards El Corazon, the heart of downtown and we end up at The Peon Contreras’ sidewalk café and there is an older guy providing the customers with live Trova music, playing guitar and singing with a percussion machine backing him up. It’s warm but with a perfect cooling breeze and the people watching is excellent as there is a pretty good crowd here and a lot of foot traffic. Across the street, a giant Ceiba tree’s canopy stretches out to us. Our drinks come and we just relax, our collective blood pressures are approaching zero. The musician is quite good and I walk up to plunk a 10P coin in his little basket. I am a little dismayed that there is only a 20P note besides my contribution. But when he packs up to make way for the headliner group, a pan pipe and guitar duo, Kevin slips a 100P note into the breast pocket of his guayabera shirt.

Moving along, we head up Calle 62 to one of our favorite joints, the Mayan Pub. Usually Mary and I play a few games of free pool on the 8’ table, but Kevin’s bashed up finger nixes that idea so we head to the back garden and order up a jarra, pitcher, of Chope Obscura cerveza, and we order up some light fare for food. Our friend Gen, the Belgium part owner of the joint comes over to say hi and we introduce him to Kevin and Rosie. He says the live music starts a little earlier tonight, 9:30pm instead of 10, so there maybe hope for us old farts to experience some live Ska/Reggae. Our food comes and naturally the Mayan Keb that we had recommended to Kevin and Rosie, is barely lukewarm, and even after some microwaving, is not very impressive. Too bad as Mary’s empanadas and my alitas, chicken wings, are excellent.

We hang until about 10:30 and the band hasn’t even arrived to start setting up. We give up and head out and at the door is Gen having a smoke. He tells us that a buddy back home gave him a Mexican clock. It doesn’t have any hands. We laugh and hit the street.

Back at the compound Kevin breaks out a couple of his Cohibas and we light up. The women go to bed as Kevin and I talk about one of our favorite subjects, a Mx commune for us and our friends. That idea has matured to the point where were actually talking about the idea of jointly owning, with a few others, a 4 or 5 unit condo complex on the beach, something along the line of Casa Sol Mar, where we had stayed their first visit down. We talk how, ideally, we’d split time between here and MN and we are a little stymied how to answer the health care riddle for me and Mary. Kevin and Rosie have the income to afford a conventional plan, we don’t. Hmmm. We ponder this and other things til about 12:30am and then we too, call it a night.

Sunday dawns bright and warm, it’s going to be a hot one. We have some breakfast and then we check out

Mérida en Domingo. We start with sorbets on Paseo and then on to Santa Lucia to check out the music and older, quite talented dancers. Then on to La Plaza Grande with its hundreds of food and gift vendors. We walk the perimeter and Rosie finds a gift for everyone on her list. Now it’s time to get back home for some quality pool time which is how we while away the day until we head over to Varon’s place to watch the Vikings/Saints clash. On the way Kevin picks up some beer.

It’s my first time to Varon’s place. Like us he is house-sitting for a gringo, but unlike us, his place is small, faces a utility substation, and was renovated on the cheap. And we find out that this gringo bought this house on spec and expects at some point to move down here with his young family and make a living flipping houses. Good luck with that I think after I nearly fall down the illegal (well at least in the states) staircase leading to Varon’s large upper level bedroom where we set up to watch the game. Where only the room for a spiral staircase exists, this goofy gringo had built a tile stairway with inverted risers reducing an 8” tread to a usable 6”. On a beer run, my feet kick out but luckily I hooked the wrought iron railing under my armpit, creating a lot of noise but only my pride was hurt. Varon tells me that he has fallen down twice. Good thing he is young.

Well I don’t have to tell you how the game went but we had fun anyhow, smoking cigars and drinking lots of beers and munching on botanas. Next year, Vikes.

It’s Monday and we are not working again today, taking a long weekend. After everyone gets their fill of coffee Mary calls up our Doc and friend (and Daily Show star) Carlos but all she gets is his VM. Rosie has contracted some skin condition on her legs that looks eerily similar to the staph infection Carlos diagnosed last trip down. Mary looks for a doc recommended in our Living in Mérida book and we find one within walking distance and he has an opening at noon. So we head over to  Café Chocolat for their breakfast buffet, with everything including unlimited juice and coffee for 49P, about $4US. The eggs are a little rubbery but they have spaghetti, que Bueno!

We walk up to the Doc’s office and Mary accompanies Rosie in case of any language difficulties and the diagnosis comes back. It a reaction to mosquito bites and she gets a prescription for some cream and an admonishment to use the mosquito spray.

Kevin and I while away the day, pool side, drinking beer and playing chess. I finally win one after three straight losses. Kevin is trying to make up for my 5-2 record last visit.

The sun is starting to set as we head to La Plaza Seranata, right on the corner of La Plaza Grande. This is the very first restaurant Kevin and Rosie experienced in Mérida (ours, too, actually), on their first trip  and they really like it. We sit on the second level looking out over the park and all the activity and order up some drinks as we contemplate the menu. I have the Burrito Pastor, Kevin and Rosie  love Tacos al Pastor and order a bunch of them along with a Caesars  Salad and also a fruit salad for all to share. Mary orders the crème de elotes, a corn soup, which is so tasty that Kevin and Rosie order a bowl, essentially for dessert. We have several drinks apiece and Kevin can’t believe the bill, 640P with tip, about $50US!

We taxi back home and we play one more game of chess, I win again! And then we all hit the sack.

Tuesday is a work day for us and we are up early doing our workday routines but after Mary logs off at noon, she and Kevin/Rosie taxi to a pasta tile store/factory. They have been fascinated by pasta tile since their first visit down here and they have even had their son Travis trained to do tile work in the houses that they flip, they don’t do linoleum in bathrooms anymore, it is all tile. Of course there is not any pasta tile to be had in MN but the idea of making it available continues to intrigue Kevin. They come back very excited about their tour, conducted by the owner and they show me the 4 tile pattern they had bought. They plan on using it as a center piece for a custom wood floor in one of the houses they are renovating.

We order in pizza and spend this evening relaxing on the promenade.

Wednesday is another workday and Kevin and Rosie entertain themselves walking about town and doing some shopping. When I knock off at 4 Kevin produces some fine tequila and we start happy hour poolside with tequila, beer chasers, and Cohibas. It’s cooled off again and we’re all in long pants. Kevin announces that he wants to go somewhere nice and wants to spend 1000P. I allow that we may have not had the best luck with some of my recommendations but when Mary escorted them to the bus depot to buy their Cancun tix for tomorrow she had walked them to nearby La Choperia, a Brazilian/Mexican fusion place and this time Kevin trusts me.

It’s cool but not so cool that we don’t want to sit in the garden at La Choperia. The service is excellent as usual and soon we are sipping drinks contemplating the menu. Rosie orders a stuffed chicken dish that she raves about. I take a chance on Arrachera, a Yucatecan beef steak treatment and I am predictably disappointed. It is somewhat tasty but pounded flat and tough. Kevin has the sirloin medallion that I do sample and it is just ok, but probably not up to Kevin’s standard. Mary has the Fettucini Alfredo which is outstanding. I have to get it through my thick head, that with the exception of Hacienda Xcanatun, you really shouldn’t order any kind of beef steak, here. But all the sides are extraordinary and the cheese and chorizo appetizer was a hit. So were the drinks. The check comes to 1080P. Mary and I get the tip.

We leisurely walk the three blocks home and Kevin and I fire up Cohibas at the patio table and talk smart the rest of this, their last evening.

The alarm goes off at 5am and Mary and I crawl out of bed. I put together the usual fruit and bread breakfast and just as Mary is about to rouse them she can hear their cell alarm go off. In a bit they are trundling their gear to the front door and drinking coffee, waking up, and eating breakfast, in that order. Precisely at 6:20 Roberto our one-armed cabbie shows up and we embrace. Roberto is our man for the early morning cab rides. He sips a coffee as he regales us with the story of the battle of Puebla. And now, with hugs around, Kevin and Rosie’s visit has come to end. We wave as the taxi rounds the corner in the predawn darkness. Hasta luego, mis amigos!

Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Bruce and Mary had a great time with Kevin and Rosie but yet it is good to be back on a regular schedule and a few days of relative detox won’t hurt them at all either. Now it is the simple pleasures of life for the next month before the next house guests are down to visit. Hasta Luego!