I'm So Lame

When my friends read the above title, they will sigh, and ask themselves- probably out loud - "Will she ever get past these ridiculous insecurities?" But when my acquaintances read this, they'll chuckle and think "Tell me something I don't know!"  Well, friends, the good news is this is a different kind of I'M SO LAME.  To my acquaintances, you're wrong, I'm not a lame brain.

Last week while taking down items from the clothesline, little did I know Lorenza was under foot....and I came down hard on my right leg, having reached up high for my dry suede slippers.  This time I didn't just step on her tail, I came down on her body with my full weight.  In her instinctive defense she bit me. Of course I jumped three feet in the air and it was over. She cried, I cried, and I reminded her to stay out from under foot.  Hopefully she learned the lesson this time. She seems so remorseful.  I was again reminded to check for animals under foot since the cats follow me around like puppies.  Lessons learned by all.

Or so I thought.  I am aware that cat bites bring certain risks, even by a domesticated cat who was born in the other room, is vaccinated, flea and worm treated, etc.  The problem starts with the cat's saliva.  It's toxic bacteria (visions of komodo dragons) starts to grow infection in a deep puncture wound. She bit me on my achilles tendon. Ouch! There were 6 entry wounds.  When did I have my last tetanus shot? Hell if I know. It could have been for the trip to Australia and Bali by sailboat in 2004.  I'd email my former family doctor in Kona but I know my files are just unorganized stacks of paper. By the time he could tell me, I could have a damn tetanus shot. 

I looked up cat bites, tetanus, and everything I could think of online. I emailed the veterinarian telling him of my plight and asked his advice. He responded with: clean the wounds thoroughly with hydrogen peroxide, then put iodine or mercurichrome over them.  He didn't think tetanus was necessary. 

I did what he said. As the days passed I cleaned the wounds in all the ways I could think of.  I covered my leg in a tattoo of gentian violet, a great infection inhibitor.  I tried drawing salve.  Finally yesterday the pain, the cramps and spasms crawling up my leg became too intense to tolerate.  I filled a clean bucket with all the sea salt I had and the hottest water I could stand.  After that treatment the swelling and little red bumps had subsided and it begain to look like a wound on the mend! 

This is gross, but here it is. My normal dry-skinned (damn this cold dry weather) ankle is on the right, it looks a little weird cuz I took the photo myself. The photo on the left is the scary one. The purple stuff on the periphery is gentian violet stain.  The puncture wounds are kind of visible, but there may be a little drawing salve left over too. I wasn't feeling too well when I took these pics. Let's just say it was nasty.

Thanks to the increasing spasms, cramps and pain, I gave up on my homeopathic remedies. When it comes to infection, you really need to move on to modern medicine. So off to the doctor I went.  I took photos of how bad it looked in the morning before my TLC, and the doctor agreed it was time for agressive treatment.  She wanted me to take penicillin injections, but that's part of an unresolved childhood trauma....no needles in the ass, sorry. So I have to take two kinds of antibiotics three times a day for a week, and the doctor sent me off for a tetanus shot. 

The shot was available at no charge at the O'Horan hospital.  If I were sick I wouldn't consider going there, but for an injection, I hobbled two blocks over, limped up the stairs, and was told to go around the block to the other entrance.  I was on a mission and hobble I did. Once I found the Preventive Medicine Office, I was pleasantly surprised.  The nurses were very friendly.  They admistered the tetanus shot and offered me a flu shot. The main nurse, a nun I imagined, sternly told me I'd come back on Jan 14th for the tetanus booster. She issued me a vaccination card and off I went, gimping my way down to the street with two sore arms, one lame achilles tendon, in a daze, making a beeline for the homestead where I took my meds and crashed.

I am on the mend now for certain.  The antibiotics seem to have begun to work, I am not worried about tetanus now.  I've got the foot up while writing this blog, and plan to work from the hammock today...reading, writing and sleeping.....and see if I can be less lame for Christmas.

"I was just hangin' out and my favorite human stomped on me, I had no choice but to sink in my teeth and save myself! I feel awful seeing her limp around because of our little mishap!"

The Goodbye Sigh

I got up and flipped my calendar cube over to 7 February yesterday and WHAMMO! Flashback to the past….to probably the saddest moment I have ever experienced. Four years ago yesterday Jim Dorton took his last breath, and sighed his way over to the other side. Grief is a weird concept. My mind still wrestles with the mixed emotions I remember from that time. On the one hand I was happy that he would no longer suffer, because by the time the Lord took him he was tired of the suffering. At the same time I was horrified that the twenty plus years we spent together were over. He was gone.

The fact is I am still completely mixed up emotionally and I don’t think I operate at 100% of my past potential. I was very sad for a long time, but I am resilient and managed to bounce back to a certain extent. I am learning to work within my new limitations and I take a new approach to the concept of happiness. The only way I could see forward was to move from Hawaii, where Jim and I met and spent most of our lives together. I felt I needed to go back to my roots. Ok, not all the way back to Lagrange Street in Toledo, Ohio, no, that would be too far back. I went back to some roots I established in early adulthood traveling through Mexico and then living/working in Akumal, on the Caribbean coast. Although I no longer teach scuba diving and couldn’t afford the Mexican Riviera, I was drawn back to the Yucatán in a desperate attempt to crawl out of my grief stupor. And in retrospect, I feel happy and content living in the heart of Mérida.


For me, Mexico is a constant reminder that I am alive. The sights, the sounds, and the smells activate my appetite for living. I feel like my feet are on the ground when I am here, although I know I live in a bit of a dream world. It is and old, sturdy and settled world. I am intrigued by the Mayan history that is present all around. And although Jim wouldn’t have chosen Merida as a place to live, what drew us together when we met was our mutual love for Mexico. I remember much laughter and rum shared at the Pioneer Inn, Lahaina, Maui, over conversations about our separate adventure tales south of the border. I think he would have liked it here.

Painted It Brown

Sometimes you just need a simple yet drastic change. The time has come for me to not be blonde for a while. When I published my PAINT IT BLACK blog, I got a lot of responses that said, "Don't do it!" The responders offered many reasons. First, the locals would still see me as a gringa: my features, build and the rest of my being. Then I would open my mouth and they'd hear me speak...so it wouldn't help the discrimination factor. I agree with those folks. But, at the same time, I want to see if driving down the street is any different. When people see me at a distance in a local car or even walking down the street looking much like them doing the same things they are doing, perhaps I won't get the bad attitude. I guess I just want to see if there is any difference at all being brunette as opposed to being blonde, especially at my age.

I was warned the hair color would make me look older. The verdict is still out on that since I just colored the hair today. I should say Pablo colored it. He happens to like doing that stuff, and has knowledge and experience and does a good job. My Mom was a hairdresser. We did colors and changed them just for fun. It's not a big deal to change your hair color, if you don't like it you can always change it back. It is best to wait a month or so before doing so, and in my case I think next month I will go darker! I think the brown will give my hair more body. It may not look so thin and stringy. If Ijust use color and not bleach, my hair might actually get healthier. So I have my hair health reasons in addition to just wanting to blend in. The fact that I want to blend in is a totally new concept for me. I usually like being and looking a little different. I guess I'm just tired of attracting attention.

The color didn't turn out to be the dark dark brown I had in mind, but we started from a blonde blonde. First we did the de-coloration. We took all the color out of my hair,this is me in albino form.


Then there was this part. Sitting with the dark dye on for a long time. I am not REALLY as miserable as I look. I think I have dye all over my face.

Ta da! Here it is. The darkest we could get on the first try. Better luck next month.

So far I like it.

Paint It Black

Oranges are in season. The orange vendors roam the streets ringing doorbells. When Pablo answers the door I usually hide and he buys 100 oranges for 25 pesos. When I answered the door yesterday, home alone, the vendor wanted 110 pesos. I refused. We talked back and forth. He cut open a fruit for me to try. He was hot, tired, and thirsty and wanted to go home. As I walked away, he cut the price to 40 pesos. I bought the oranges. I may have only gotten 50 of them though. But I was disgusted and finished with the conversation.

I think I am attracting too much attention with blonde hair here in Latin America. It seems to cause heads to turn, which I am trying to avoid. I have been wearing my hair like this a few years now and until recently didn’t give it a second thought. I just want to fit in, and get a fair deal on purchases, and feel less discrimination for my very existence here.

The way I look causes prices on just about everything to double, and the general treatment by the people is often less than hospitable. If people see me with Pablo, my young local boyfriend, between the age difference and the cultural differences, we often are treated with yet another discrimination. I am seen as a cougar and he is seen as a gold digger. Neither is true. Only we know and understand why we are more than just friends. And who is to judge us, anyhow.

So, I am thinking I want to dye my hair Mexican brown. Real dark brown. Then see if I get the same treatment when I walk to the marketplace, or go to the supermarket; if they treat me any differently before they know for sure I am a foreigner. I still may be a dead gringo-giveaway since I won’t be wearing spiked heals or heavy black eye makeup. And of course I am afraid I will look like a freak, wearing a bad wig, or appear older than I already feel I look. I have to try something, even if it’s wrong.

Aloha Oe

A plumeria blossom floating with a single droplet of rain in honor of my friend Bill.


Last week while cooling off in the pool, a wind whipped up and a few plumeria flowers drifted down to the water. Watching the flower floating in the calm clear water mesmerized me back to all the great times I’d had living in Hawaii. Hawaiian music sweetened the air and I realized how much I miss my friends there. I appreciate the quality friendships I earned during my twenty years in the islands. It was a pleasant reminiscence but one without regrets, because I am happy here in the Yucatán. I still think that my best survival and recuperation option was to relocate, and for me this feels right.

Luckily in today’s world we can stay in touch via Skype and Facebook and Twitter, etc. Today, not only can I talk to my friends, we can watch each other AGE on our webcams!

When I first moved here I was staying in touch with several friends, but we all got busy with our ever-changing lives and the communications waned. Time passes and we realize we have lost contact with those who we hold dear.

Two days after my Hawaiian moment in the pool, I received word that two of my friends in Kona died last week. Today is Wild Bill Burke’s burial. I am sorry I can’t be there to say a final farewell, so I offer the above photo to send my aloha and my condolences. Bill was a great person, and he will be missed. He was a crusty foul mouthed sailor with a New England accent. He was as wild as he looked and he liked to suck up the scotch. These were part of his most endearing traits, because he always kept us laughing. As a friend he was always there for you when you needed him. I doubt he ever did another person wrong, although due to his generous helpful nature, people took him for granted sometimes; he even took that in stride. He could fix anything, and was invaluable to the success of the Fairwind operation for years. He was an excellent sailor and boatman. Bill went to lunch with friends one day last week, enjoyed his cocktails, spun some tales, and when he went to sleep that night he never woke up. He lived his life to the fullest until the very last day. Since he passed in peaceful sleep, I feel confident he is in eternal peace right now. Or raising hell in some other time or space.

Here we are, left to right, Bill Burke, me, and Dave Winter enjoying an authentic kava party at the coffee shack in 1991.

The most important rule at a kava party is that everyone don a 'lava lava' (men's pareu)...here Dave, Todd and Bill are learning to securely tie on their first skirts!

Our other friend who passed away was not someone I knew very well, but she was part of our Fairwind family. She had been around in the early days of the family business and knew just about everyone who passed through Fairwind doors. Penny was frail when I last saw her a few years ago, and her health had been failing. I do hope she is in a happy place. She is already notably missed by her loyal kitty and close friends. In her honor, I would like to offer this floating flower to send my sympathies to all her friends and family.

¡Adios, Well Traveled Jeans!

I've been told it's time to trash these shorts. Say it isn't so!

I was a few sizes bigger when I bought them in 2004. They have always looked baggy because my legs are kind of skinny, however the fabric has relaxed a bit over the years. They are still so comfortable; that was all that ever mattered. I've been practically living in these shorts for five years. The thought of throwing them out brought forth (besides the sadness of losing a good friend) a beautiful memory of our history together, causing this photographic tribute to my favorite jeans:

We've traveled with crazy Aussies through the northern Australian outback to Berry Springs Park outside of Darwin . Driving someone else's rental car, we took to the red dust roads, passing truck trains, stopping at swimming holes like this with crocodiles...both freshies and salties that swim up river. July 2004

And to Litchfield National Park, Top End Australia, posing in front of the giant termite mounds. This is where we made the mistake of reading the guide book AFTER our day in the park. We sat on the ground, exposing ourselves to poisonous chiggers that made us really sick. August 2004

And we've sailed from Darwin, Australia, to Bali, Indonesia. Oh wait, these are not my jeans, this is the swim suit that has survived these same adventures. I saw this photo and was shocked that this WalMart special is still the roughest swimwear I have ever owned. August 2004


We've been to Kuta Beach, Bali, where a new Paddy's Pub replaces the one blown up in October '02. August, 2004. Oops, I've been there twice: I went out one night on my second trip to Bali partying in them and actually entered this place....creepy. January 2007

We've been around southern Mexico. Here we are in Tulúm at some cabañas in the town just a few kilometers from the Caribbean Sea. September 2007

We saw a lot of Central America. Here we are at Amapola, Isla del Tigre, Honduras, where wecould see El Salvador, Honduras and Nicaragua from this scenic lookout. July 2008

We have shared so much together. I will admit that my ass showing through the tear in the back is not appealing. The shorts have seen better days. I admit it. This is also as clean as they get. Actually I was wondering if I could sell them on eBay. Don't some people pay big bucks to get 'that worn look' on a well traveled pair of jeans?

Ok. They are going into the trash. This may call for some sort of ceremony. Maybe I'd better wear them tomorrow and give this a little more thought.

80/50

I have a confession to make and evidently need to rant today. I speak and listen to nothing but Spanish about 90% of each day here. And I speak “pretty good” Spanish. However, on a good day I understand about 80% of what passes through my senses. I can live with 80%. It is in fact a good number. I get the big picture of what is going on around me, how I fit into it, how I don’t fit into it….and then I stumble along my own merry route. I don’t sweat the small stuff, because I am completely unaware of the small stuff! No, that’s not entirely true; I make a serious effort to not sweat the small stuff….I see so many people all bungled up inside it. But I always like to understand every f’n thing that goes on around me and that is how I base my decisions on matters. I figured it was good for me to live less specifically, grasping more or less what is going on around me, without having to actually dive into the pea soup, so to speak.


On a good day I can accomplish business negotiations successfully, even if I end up paying twice what Pablo might have if he’d taken on the task without me. That is just one of the hazards of living here as a foreigner. It is assumed by almost all Yucatecans that we foreigners have a bottomless bank account, and although they don’t know the terminology, basically treat us all as if we were “trust fund babies”. Other than stores and services with fixed prices, where we are all treated equally until we get to the checkout counter and are the object of bad attitude. We buy so much shit! It bugs them because on their salaries they can’t just whiz through the aisles and pick out things on a whim. They see us throw money away and it affects them in a strange way. I can even overcome that by making a joke or remark to bring about a smile. Usually I get the stink eye buying huge quantities of cat food and canned tuna. So I tell the cashier that we really eat mostly cat food, thus saving money on other groceries. The ones with a sense of humor laugh. The others think I am probably not kidding.


I get cross culturally confused.


But today was a 50% day, where I was only understanding 50% of what I heard in Spanish, and I woke up half-brained in English. If I am not mistaken that brings me down to 25% functionality because with half a brain I only understood half of the half I was hoping to understand. I got real frustrated and the rest of the morning, at least, no matter what I tried to say or even think about, I seemed to become defensive about everything. I went off on an Anti-Schwarzenegger rant in the pool this morning. Everyone felt so peaceful in the soothing warm velvety water until I discussed a documentary I watched on HBO last night about anabolical steroids. I was watching a Michael Moore style documentary so it would take a lot of research for me to make my own decision on the matter. The producer was pro-steroids but he did a good job of presenting both sides. I would have to say it was a thought provoking documentary. I learned a lot about all kinds of steroids.


And I have nothing against Arnold Schwarzenegger. You would sure have thought so listening to me rant today! I don’t like hypocrites and what I learned about him last night plus his recent change of heart about the plight of the illegal alien situation in California, made me decide he was just that and I guess I took some frustration out on HIM: say what? All I know was I was emotionalized (Sorry, Spanglish) and talking loudly and firmly about something that I really don’t care about and up to this point in my life has had absolutely no impact whatsoever.


See. I am operating at 25% today. I need a roll in the hay and a trip to the beach. Or a shot of tequila and the afternoon in the pool. Or all of the above and maybe I even need a swift kick in the ass.

Gucci Fruits for Nuts

I was reading today’s Diario del Yucatán and an article grabbed me. They just auctioned off the first harvest of this season’s Yubari cantaloupes in Hokkaido, Japan. The first two sold for $5,200 US Dollars EACH. Last year the first two canteloupes brought in $23,900 US Dollars. The article said this is a sure sign of the global recession. I am shocked. I knew prices in Japan were ridiculous, but this is beyond absurd. We are talking about the Gucci of the melon world. Here is what burns my ass about this: Some nutcase in Japan paid the equivalent of a year's salary for, say, a typical Indonesian, or even a Chiapaneco(!) to buy one piece of fruit.

I had to know more about this cantaloupe. Is it made of gold? Does it grow a little diamond in its center? NO. It is a simple, supposedly sweeter than usual, and most importantly….perfectly proportioned fruit. It is in fact the perfect summer gift in Japan. If you want to impress your boss, mother-in-law or girlfriend, you give them a cantaloupe, or if on a tight budget just one slice. These canteloupes have been genetically designed to be perfectly shaped and, well, just perfect! Just like the Japanese themselves!

Only the first melons sell for the high price…once the Japanese Agriculture Association grades the rest of the crop, they sell in the supermarkets for a mere $100-500 US dollars EACH. In Hawaii I rarely ate cantaloupe because one piece of fruit, not necessarily sweet or ripe since they are all imported from mainland USA, cost around $10 US. I thought that was exorbitant. This is other worldly.


Yubari Muskmelon intended as a high-priced gift.

Now let’s talk about watermelon. The black, almost square, Densuke watermelons sold at the Hokkaido auction last year for $6,100 US Dollars each. From what I can find online, the watermelon auction will take place next month, so I will keep an eye on the news. We can follow the global financial trends via fruit sales in Japan. The black watermelon is also a near perfect fruit, thus another great option for those “summer gifts” (?)..and available at the supermarket for a mere $300 US.

Time bomb? No, black Densuke watermelon. Ripe and ready for sucking up to your boss!

Here in the Yucatán we eat lots of melons. I don’t remember how much they cost per kilo, but the cost didn't make an impression on me so I think they are within most folks' budgets. You can get a sandía (watermelon) juice or melón (canteloupe) juice practically anywhere for under a dollar. We have the Mennonites who provide us with fresh tasty canteloupes as well as nice cheeses. The fruits may not be perfectly round, but I would rather eat an imperfect melon every day, than to think I had to wait for someone to give me a summer gift. Six thousand dollars for a piece of fruit? Just fork over the cash. I’ll eat papaya.

Toilet Paper and The Kitchen Sink

I have been thinking about some of the more subtle differences I experience living in another country. There are constant major hurdles of language and culture differences. I speak Spanish reasonably well, but there are times when I get completely lost in conversation. I cannot imagine what it must be like to go through this culture shock and not speak any Spanish. Mérida is not an English speaking city. Cancún, Cozumel, sure! They want the Almighty Dollar and have learned to speak some English, and even Italian, French, and German. But much of our tourism in the Yucatán comes from Mexican nationals. At the present, of course, there are NO tourists due to the worldwide panic pandemic.

Before I go on I would like to say that Yucatecans are very clean people. We didn’t need any of China’s alcohol or cotton balls here! These folks shower several times a day. This is understandable, especially when the temperature is in the 100’s from April until November. The men here wear long pants, socks and shoes. The women wear dresses, nylons and sport high heels. Walking to the corner I break out in a full sweat wearing a singlet and shorts, but I can jump into the swimming pool when I finish my walks. These folks enjoy an occasional cold shower, a heavy dousing of talcum powder, and on they go to the next task in the midday heat.

Let’s talk about toilets. If you have been to México, you know that most toilets do not have seats. Toilet seats are not an expensive item, so cost can’t be the problem. A 45 peso investment could comfort your hind end for years. Maybe they don’t want people to get in the habit of sitting on the toilet. Maybe the idea is to make sure you squat. I happen to like toilet seats, so my five bathrooms have them.

Why is toilet paper such a coveted item? I know when we travel we wouldn’t go as far as Chichén Itzá without carrying our own roll. The Pemex gas stations along the highways constantly surprise me. I always carry my own paper, and sometimes am pleasantly surprised to find a super clean, nicely tiled restroom, with toilet paper, soap and hand towels. Other times I have to hold my breath, squat over a disgustingly full toilet, and just be glad I have a place to relieve myself as I unroll the flimsy paper I had smashed in my pocket, having not a square to spare, so to speak. Those situations are when you MOST want to wash your hands thoroughly, but of course there is no water…..or the toilet would have flushed six users ago.

Mexican toilets are not built to accept foreign matter. No one throws their paper into the toilet, let alone feminine supplies! There is always a trash receptacle next to a toilet for used paper, even if there is no paper provided. Every now and again I forget and accidentally throw my paper in the commode. After several flushes, it will finally swirl down. It is enough hassle to remind me to use the trash bin.

Now here is what confuses me. Considering an entire culture that doesn’t throw paper in the toilet, I don’t understand why they think it is ok to throw shitloads of food, paper, or whatever, into the kitchen sink. There are no garbage disposals. Sinks are always plugging up. Why? Because there are wrappers, chunks of food and all kinds of gross shit in there blocking the drain. If the toilet couldn’t take it, what makes them think the sink can?

Next up, dental torture.

A Time To Rant

A time to live, a time to die, a time to rant, a time to sigh.

Things are pretty difficult right now in México. The entire country has been closed off from the world for an undetermined amount of time, at an undetermined level of security. The Yucatán insists there have been NO CONFIRMED cases of the AH1N1, or Human Flu. Yet we remain sequestered. The Mexican people are being punished.

The only event I can compare how this flu is affecting us in México is 9/11, in so far as it feels like we are under a terrorist attack. Life is practically at a standstill…very little traffic – pedestrian or vehicular, few flights, no ships, no tourists, no sports, and mandated closures. Schools have been closed for a week and won’t reopen until next Monday, the 11th of May. All sporting events will go another week with no spectators allowed. Officials are worried about gearing up to normal life again because it may be too soon to tell how widespread this influenza is. Mexico is reporting no new deaths in the past five days, but many other countries are reporting increases in flu cases.

I was shocked to see the US has nearly 380 confirmed cases in 36 states, yet México has only 840 cases confirmed in 4 states (out of 32). How could that possibly be? The influenza was first discovered in México. If it has been here longer, how could it possibly spread faster in the US than here? As the days quietly pass, the less sense it all makes.

The streets of Progreso were quiet.

Friday we got cabin fever and drove to Progreso for fresh fish. We were the only patrons in the restaurant. Pablo swallowed an habanero chile seed which made him cough. The waiters all flinched and started watching us closely to make sure we weren’t sick. Paranoia is rampant.

The Chinese sent México an airplane full of cotton balls, alcohol and hygiene supplies, as if to say…….Cleanse yourself, people! Although it was a nice gesture, it went over like a lead balloon. Now China is simply sending all the Mexicans home!

Excerpt from Yahoo News 2pm, 5 May 2009: China, Argentina and Cuba are among the nations banning regular flights to and from Mexico, marooning passengers at both ends. Mexico and China both sent chartered flights to each other's countries to collect their citizens, with the chartered Mexican plane hopscotching China Tuesday to retrieve stranded residents. Argentina also chartered a flight to bring Argentines home.

My friend in Isla Mujeres said there are approximately 50 tourists on the entire island. I’m not surprised after last week’s closures of large hotels, restaurants and bars in Cancún and along the Mayan Riviera that sent tourists scurrying home. Those who stayed behind were advised they would be quarantined IN MEXICO if they got sick here. That was enough to send some people running. (What some people don’t know is that we actually have GOOD medical care available.)

Another friend was planning to cruise to the Yucatán on Carnival Cruise Lines. She called to get information before booking and was advised that all cruises to Mexico were cancelled UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Tourism is down 70%. It was low before we got the flu because of the world’s economic crises.

I have no confidence in the tests or the statistics. If it takes two weeks to get a blood test back, then too many patients have been dismissed prematurely. I don’t want to see this become a level 6 pandemic. I want it to go away. I want time to stop and back up and AH1N1 just disappear. I want a lot of things…..like beachfront property for free and a pot of gold!

Is there a worldwide movement to send all ‘nationals’ back to their ‘nations’? A pharmaceutical company takeover? A political act to shift focus from the world’s financial crisis? Biological warfare? A media event? Or just a pesky pandemic?

A Week of Sundays

The Van Gogh Jigsaw Puzzle



On Sundays, most of Mérida seems like a ghost town. The families that go to church in the morning are likely hidden in their patios in the afternoons. Lots of people head to the beaches. There is almost no traffic. No one is out walking around.

That almost describes Mérida this week. The difference is that the people are all hiding in their patios, and no one is at the beach.There is practically no one outside. The schools closed down on Tuesday. Immediately following were NATIONWIDE closings of museums, movies, parks, archeological sites, gathering places of all kinds, swimming pools, etc. Sporting events will be held but without spectators. Cruise ships to México were rerouted to other ports. This list keeps growing.

I read today that restaurants and hotels that accommodate more than 80 people in Cancún closed. That would explain the mass exodus of 40,000 tourists from Cancún yesterday and today.

The Mexican TV stations and news people call it "el psicosis de la influenza". The media loves to sensationalize. When they first reported this there were 69 deaths in México and 3,000 suspected cases. Now the stats are down to 12 confirmed and 68 suspected deaths in México. The officials are playing it down now. There are NO confirmed cases anywhere in the Yucatán. And personally, I doubt there will be any confirmed cases reported here. The public would panic if we confirm its existence here. I have a good friend who came down with the flu last week and this week is in the hospital with pneumonia. The tests for swine flu came back negative, I was told. Some coincidence, though, isn't it?

The Yucatán is shut down until at least May 6th. Recent news flashes on the radio and TV hint they are considering extending that date to May 11th. The death toll rises as I write this. This is my third attempt at a post on this flu pandemic. Yesterday there were changes before I could finish one post and I just gave up.

The good news is that almost everyone we know here is healthy. We really don't mind having to stay at home in this city. It is built for us to live in our own little worlds. I personally have tons of projects started, other ideas occurring to me at random, the pool...where I pass a good amount of time on these hot days. Pablo and I like to play board games and we have a jigsaw puzzle spread out on the table. We are eating well, taking vitamins, and going with an anti-psychotic flow, hoping life returns to normal one day soon. Not that we would know normal if it hit us in the head....

The 2nd Annual Bloggers' Meet and Greet

Theresa is my neighbor and friend. She comes over almost every day to exercise in the swimming pool. Early last year she told me about her blog WHAT DO I DO ALL DAY?. I started to read her blog regularly, check out and follow several of her links, and even was inspired to create my own blogs. I’d been trying to keep up with my family and friends by email since I moved, but it got to be difficult and repetitive. I figured it would be more fun and effective if I created a blog to post information and photos of my new life in Mérida. That way, if folks were interested, they could read my stories and later, email correspondences would be easier to handle.

Last year Theresa went to a bloggers’ meeting in Isla Mujeres. She had a great time and enjoyed meeting other Yucatecan bloggers. She decided to organize this year’s event in Mérida. A few months ago another aquatic exerciser, Mikey, started Adventures of Merida Mikey. The three of us discuss blogging in the pool, and we talked about the bloggers’ meet and greet while it was in Theresa’s planning stages. She invited us to participate.

The first event was a cocktail party on Thursday, April 16, at the home of Blah Blah Blah Ginger. Jonna and Mimi showed off their beautiful home by sponsoring our first event. At the party I met a few new folks, but spent more time photographing and petting the animals. Out in the patio I had good conversations with Wayne of Isla Mujeres Gringo In Paradise and Mikey. Mike is a close Mérida friend, and Wayne seemed familiar, like I already knew him. I talked to the hostesses but just barely, probably about Akumal and animals. I enjoyed talking to Nancy and Paul from Countdown to Mexico but I don’t remember what I was jabbering about. I drank too much, ended up in a discussion with Heather in Paradise about dog poop, and as a result I imagine I made a lousy impression.

Photos from Jonna & Mimi's cocktail party, April 16, 2009.

Next , on Friday at my house, speakers gave presentations. Wayne, Theresa, Ellen of YUCATANLIVING, and Paul of Hammock Musings from Mérida spoke about using digital photography, making money, finding focus and inspiration for our blogs. Sixteen people attended. I learned quite a bit, not only about blogging, but about bloggers. It was interesting, fun, and I managed to meet a few more of the participants. I also learned how to link these folks up on this blog, causing the delay in posting. It took a while to figure all this out and put into action.

Presentations on Friday, April 17, 2009 at my house, Ko'ox Báab.



After meeting 20+ bloggers, it struck me that I had not read everyone’s blogs. I know I spend plenty of time on the computer, but if I try to read 30 blogs a day, I will never get anything else done. I might have to schedule actual blogging time so I don’t get carried away .

After the presentations we all went to the Las Ruinas bar and restaurant, chatting and sucking up a few beers, enjoying botana of various pickled vegetables and pigs’ innards, etc. What a great place Theresa found!

I was tired from the day’s activities and skipped the walking tour of the Centro, but Pablo and I met up with the group at Los Cumbancheros restaurant. Pablo and I enjoyed dancing to the live Cuban music, and some of the others joined us on the dance floor. The food wasn’t great but the band was terrific.

Saturday I had to work, so I missed the breakfast at the Hotel El Castellano. It was a long hot day at home with swim classes from 8am until 5pm. We were wiped out and decided to crash in the hammocks early…never going anywhere that night.

Sunday’s plan was to meet in the Centro and walk around again. I thought about going, but it’s the only day I can relax with Pablo. I could only attend so many functions. Later I found out Sunday’s plans changed to a farewell breakfast. I may have given the impression I wasn’t interested in people by missing Saturday’s events. That’s not true, and I would like to say to Dodwells Head South, YOLISTO, DEBI IN MERIDA and TOM'S BLOG, Livin' The Lisa Loca, Not The News - Life in Mérida, and anyone else I didn’t get a chance to chat with, that I enjoyed our blogger weekend. It was a pleasure to meet everyone. It is interesting to meet other expats and learn why they decided to live in México, hear about their journeys, their special places, etc. It was a great learning experience that I would enjoy participating in again next time.

We are going to link up all our blogs on a site called Mexico in English. When we get that organized, I will update.

The Mermaid

This year my birthday fell on Easter Sunday. It brought back memories of Catholic Mass, which we attended daily at St. Hedwig's Elementary School in Toledo, Ohio. We kids got bored going to church every day, so we'd read the indexes in prayer books and find other ways to occupy our minds. I noticed then that my birthday would not fall on Easter Sunday until I was 45 years old. I could not imagine ever being 45 years old. Well, in 1998 my birthday fell on Easter. And 11 years later, on my birthday, Easter Sunday 2009, I realize I'd be quite happy celebrating my 45th birthday, but instead.....


I have learned that I like to celebrate my birthday for about a week before the actual date. I used to have panic attacks right before my birthday. I am not sure what that was about, I guess just the getting old factor and not having achieved all I want to do with my life. Now that I have accepted this aging process, I don't panic, instead I like to do things for ME....buy something I have been thinking about, go somewhere I have wanted to go, etc. I have trouble with the concept of putting ME first........but around my birthday I am pretty bold about it.


By the time my birthday arrives, I am done celebrating. The pre-birthday anxiety is gone and I can relax. Sunday I was doing just that. Relaxing in the hammock watching a little morning TV. The doorbell rang and my three women friends here, Jill, Theresa and Julia surprised me with a drop in visit. They sang to me and brought me a beautiful mermaid piñata. I have never had a piñata before. I don't plan to destroy it with a bat, instead I want to hang it on the wall.


The mermaid piñata.

Backing up a bit, on Friday Pablo and I went out to accomplish two things: obtain pool chemicals and have lunch. Everyone was out of pool chemicals, but we shopped our way through several places to find that out. I bought a jigsaw puzzle, new pants, picture frames, a raft to float in the pool, a little bambu fountain to zen up my office, another fan to keep the hot air circulating, etc. We looked for a place to have lunch all along the way. It was Good Friday and everything was closed. Everyone had gone to the beach. We then decided seafood sounded good and headed up to Progreso.


I know better than to go to Progreso on a holiday weekend. But we were just cruisin' so we went for it. It took us 20 minutes to get there, and 45 minutes to get through town traffic to Eladio's Restaurant on the waterfront.

Cars cruisin' the malecón and thousands of people enjoying the beach. (By Sunday there were over 100,000 visitors there!)

By the time we got to Eladio's, most of the lunch crowd was leaving. It was 4pm. We enjoyed a couple of tequilas, delicious fresh shrimp and octopus. It was at least 10° cooler at the beach, and we ate our lunch watching people play in the water. While at the restaurant, we bought a pile of pirated movies so we would have entertainment for the weekend. They sell movies that are currently showing at theaters, however they are pirated and you never know about the quality. Sometimes the recordings are bad, made in theaters with people's heads in the forefront, or the movies are in Russian with Spanish subtitles. But at $1.50 US each, it is worth the gamble.


On Sunday, after chatting with my visitors, Pablo got the new grill going. We decided to have carne asada and bbq'd vegetables poolside. He treated me like a queen all day. He got the fire going, seasoned and cooked the food, and brought me tequila and Coca Cola. I was in the swimming pool most of the afternoon. Pablo and I had lunch IN the pool. It was a very relaxing day. Later we watched two movies and went for a little drive around the ghost town Mérida.

All in all it was a good week and weekend. I allowed myself many liberties, including an occasional shot of tequila. This week I am seriously down to the grind, writing in the morning and working on repainting the upstairs room in the afternoon and sewing curtains in the evening. I have ten sets of curtains to make for the rooms out at the property, which should be completed this week (mañana). I have a function here on Friday. Our students are back this week, and life is back to normal.

This is the new keg style bbq. It reminds me of the giant kegger bbq we had on the sail trip from Hawaii to Samoa, Tonga and Fiji that our friend Homer made especially for the trip. We not only prepared some great meals on that grill, but we made lots of friends at anchorages. Above, I took the photo too late to show our beautiful grilled meat and veggies so all you see are a few overcooked tortillas.

Easter dinner in the pool....the only way to beat the heat.

Lumbar Blues

On December 30th, while talking on the phone, looking for a pen, and walking too fast, I slipped on a wet spot and fell on my ass. The colonial pasta tiles are made of painted, polished cement that is slippery and hard. I experienced a new level of pain that night.

The next day we went to the Clínica de Mérida to consult a Dr. Hector Maldonado. (Don’t go to him for any reason! He is not only an asshole, he is an idiot.) He said I probably bruised my tail bone and gave me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxers, or so I thought. He said to wait a couple of days, get xrays, and come back. It was a holiday weekend so I waited until things got back to normal. On Monday we got xrays and went back to the doctor. He was pissed off that I didn’t take the xrays at that particular clinic and said nothing was wrong, prescribing an injection of some sort. He basically accused me of faking the pain and insisted that a steroid injection was all I needed.

I hate injections. Bad childhood memories of a brown recluse spider bite surface and I panic. They do not administer injections at doctors’ offices here. They send you home with a prescription and you do it yourself. Pablo talked me into the injection and gently administered it. It gave me some relief. As the days passed the pain increased. I felt like someone had whacked me across the small of my back with a machete. As if that didn’t hurt enough, the pain spread to my hamstrings, all butt muscles, and I could hardly stand up or sit down.

I found another doctor. He was thorough and knowledgeable. By the time I consulted the second doctor my ass and legs were contracting and throbbing. He looked at the xrays and detected a herniated disc. Of course he said my only option was surgery and titanium pins. But he is supposed to say that, he turned out to be a surgeon. He changed my prescriptions, stating the ones I had would not help me. No steroid injections, just ibuprofen and a lightweight pain medication.

Not being much for surgery, and knowing people who regret having had this type of back surgery, I sought out alternative treatments. I found a chiropractor. Danny De Graff is from San Francisco and has a well organized clinic. I went for a consultation and treatment last Friday. He discovered there is a small fracture on my tailbone as well as the herniated disc. He carefully adjusted me and sent me off to the second room. There they used an electric massage tool and heat on my back. In room eight, they used electromagnetic shock on my behind, with a cold pack because of the inflammation. From there I was sent to room ten, where Nieves the masseuse was waiting for me. She gave me a thorough deep massage for thirty minutes. The entire treatment process lasted two hours, and because I bought “the paquete” of eight sessions the cost of one two hour session works out to about $45. The price of xrays they plan to take after the treatment program is included. To me this was more reasonable than a ten thousand US dollar surgery. Some of my back degeneration is due to all the lifting of heavy gear and scuba tanks, as well as the nitrogen uptake from maxing out the dive tables during my scuba instructor days. And of course, my age factors in too.

There are good days and bad days with this pain. The wet cold fronts that have been passing through don’t help my aching bones. The gloomy days do help me to accept the fact that I must hang out in the hammock with lots of pillows, or lie in bed flat on my back. The bummer is I was in too much pain to concentrate to write or read. The Soma or Flexeril I took helped me maintain the state of zombie-ism required to keep me horizontal and watch the same CSI and Law and Order programs again and again, but I am just not that much of a couch potato to be content doing absolutely nothing but staring at the TV drooling.

Yesterday I went back for my second appointment. The doctor said he could feel my spine whereas on Friday he couldn’t because it was so inflamed. I like the doctor and he doesn’t scare me. I usually have a split second of panic when a chiro gets in position to crack my back or neck…I envision permanent paralysis or death.

I spent extra time in room eight with the electromagnetic shock under a hot pad, then infrared heat. I look forward to the day they put me in the upside down vertical chair. I think my spine would enjoy a really good stretch. Soon come, man, soon come.

Research told me it takes around six weeks to heal a tailbone. I have high hopes that within a few more weeks I will be back on the dance floor. I can tell I feel better because I have a few brain cells operating again. As it turns out, I am an excellent caregiver but a lousy patient. My first lesson of the year is learning to ask for help and not feel guilty that I need some.

Miles of Piles Shuffled Again

This week I set out to go through, yet again, my miles of piles. It never ceases to amaze me how much shit I have. When I left Hawaii I got rid of tons of crap. I figured I would spend a lot of time here doing crafts, so I sent myself 300 colored pens, 10 really cool coloring books, a pile of half empty notebooks, paints, inks, brushes, more pens, drawing paper, rice paper that I have not used in fifteen years, beads, sewing stuff. These are just for crafts and represent only the things I had my hands on today. There is a lot more!

The paperwork is another story. Every printed page from the online writing classes, greeting cards I created but never sent, every credential I have ever had, including a 1986 three day pass to Disneyworld, memberships to the Musket Cove Yacht Club in Fiji and the Neiafu Club in Vava’u, Tonga, (I always believe I will revisit these places) and notes that I made into file folders for things I would DEFINITELY write about. It’s all just a big stinky pile of cat-piss scented papers now. The topics are good but the information is old. I get new ideas every day. (They come and go rapidly; some are gone before I have found the paper and pens.) I think the lesson here is: if I write in the morning on paper, I should try to find my notes the same day, put the ideas into a computer file, and make sure to throw the papers away immediately. I have been writing by hand and just filing those papers.

What was I planning to do with EVERY travel section from the Kona newspaper in 2006? Not just a page here or there, but entire sections. I get the newspaper here in Mérida and there are new, more interesting, and of course, more current issues at hand.

So far I have filled one bag of trash. I simply want my shit organized and I want less of it. And so goes the process of sorting through my present life. I overthink reasons why I cannot think straight, and today’s excuse is that my stuff is too disorganized. One article I was toting around was about an author who cleaned out her miles of piles so she could think clearly. Ah, I am on the right path after all, I thought. I read it and tossed it.

After taking a break to write this, I tackled the large pile of files. As I was going through them I found all the resentment and anger I was feeling in my falling from grace period in Hawaii after Jim’s passing. There were so many things there that pissed me off; I ended up manicly cutting articles out of the paper and filing them. What was I going to do? Lead a 1-person revolution? I wanted to, but that is not the point. Instead I chose to leave it behind and today I finally set that negative bullshit free! The trash collectors have already taken it away! Now a swipe of sage or maybe this lavender incense over here and I will be among all positive vibes. It feels much better. And I got the room quite functional. It is not feng shui but I am not Oriental.

Buster's Anniversary

Buster and Busmo.

Dinnertime for the family.

Happy Anniversary, Buster! One year ago Sept. 22nd I received the call. "¡Encontramos al Buster!" (We found Buster!) He disappeared three days after our arrival in Mérida in July 2007. My fried Pea traveled with Buster and me to help us move. The house wasn't ready and we had to stay in a hotel. Buster was humiliated and sickened after being confined to a small cat carrier (he is huge!) under airplane seats, hauled around four airports, required to shit in public in a tiny cat box, and basically be in a constant state of travel and discomfort for over 24 hours on our trip from Kona, Hawaii to Mérida, Yucatán, México. When his final destination appeared to be a hotel room, he begged me to let him outside. The hotel had a huge enclosed courtyard, so in the middle of the second night I got up and let him out. He sniffed around for a while and then came back to the room and returned to hide under the bed. When we had already been in the hotel two days and had to change rooms, that was the last straw for Buster. The room we moved into had wide iron bars on the windows, and Buster decided to break out of his jail. Then I think the hotel cats ran him off.

Buster and I had come to Mérida to recover from pain and suffering: illness, death, earthquakes, vog, poverty, joblessness and lack of enthusiasm, to be specific. It was so upsetting having Buster lost among a million people in a huge noisy city. He had never been away from the hillside around Kona. He was used to lots of land and his favorite lava tubes. There was little traffic and no city noise. I thought I was doing the right thing bringing Buster to start our new lives. He missed Jim. He was traumatized by the major earthquakes we had in Kona and several months later was still hesitant to come inside the house. He had respiratory problems from the vog. The truth is we were both a big mess.

Although caught up in the rigamarole of buying a house in a foreign country, organizing and supervising its renovation in a foreign language, getting accustomed to a different culture, acclimatizing to the big city's motion and the intense heat, and preparing for hurricanes.....I never gave up hope that I would find my Buster. At first, Pea and I made fliers. Crying, we asked all the merchants in a several block area surrounding the hotel to watch out for Buster. We offered a reward. I published his picture in the newspaper and on Merida Insider online. We searched the hotel twice daily. It seemed hopeless. The rooftops are all connected here and Buster had never seen any such thing. He could have gone a long way. There were huge trees. He could have gotten anywhere and be completely disoriented.

I rented a car and drove around, crying, of course, calling for Buster. I walked the streets calling for him, looking like a lunatic with my eyes puffed out and feeling like an asshole. Not so much because I was making a fool of myself, I am used to that....but because I thought I was doing us a favor moving here, and I had caused Buster to suffer more. The day we were anticipating a direct hit from Hurricane Dean I really lost it, frantically searching until curfew, but I still could not find Buster. There were leads from the ads and fliers...none led to Buster though.

Buster had been through an ordeal. Somehow he made his way back to the hotel and the employees there, who had been fervently watching out for him, captured him in one of the rooms. His leg was slightly injured, he was skinny and completely freaked out. I swooped him up and was talking to him, sobbing, apologizing, driving toward home when I made an ignorant blunder. I made a right turn on red (which is illegal here) in front of a policeman directing traffic. I got pulled over. It was the only time I have ever bribed a cop but it worked. Two hundred pesos and a promise to not drive while crying again we were on our way. Buster was back. He arrived at our new house the same day my belongings arrived from Hawaii, two months to the day we departed.

A lot had gone on in his absence, apart from my camping out in a construction site and the constant searching. One of the calls we got from the fliers was from a parking lot attendant one block from where he was lost. Pea and I zoomed over there and it was not Buster. It was a little female that resembled him just a wee bit. But she was living under a car in an open lot and it was the rainy season. I already felt bad enough about Buster living outside, alone. So I gave the guy a partial reward for his efforts and carried the cat home. Pea and I named her Lotería, which means "lottery", because SHE had certainly won! We were a couple of cat forlorned ladies. Cat forelorned?? Anyhow, she was lots of fun for two months.

There were other calls. One guy told me he saw Buster in a park on the east side of town. When I looked at a map, if he had run straight down 55th Street he could have ended up there, Pacabtún, so I went there. No Buster. Another man called and thought he had seen Buster roving rooftops in his neighborhood in Santiago area, twelve blocks west of the hotel. So I concentrated on that area for a while, walking search patterns I learned in scuba training. No Buster.

One night I was living in my bedroom because the rest of the house was torn up. I had been writing on the computer during a full moon with some odd energy and I could not sleep. That was one long bad night in late August that I won't forget. First I colored my hair. I bought what I thought was the equivalent of my color, but it was not. I really fucked it up. It was a hideous cheap-wig mousy brown. I was frustrated that I could not set up Skype and ready to pull out my fake looking hair. I ranted to my friends for hours in long emails showing just how crazy I really am. Then I tried to sleep in my hammock when all of a sudden I thought I saw Buster in the window. My first reaction, other than yelling "Buster!!!!!!!!" and scaring the shit out of the cat in the window, was to sob. How could Buster have found me at the house? He had never been to the house. It is sixteen blocks south of the hotel. And if it was him, did he hate me now and that was why he ran? There are not many cats here that look like Buster. He is a gray tabby but he is a big boy. Most Mexican cats are slender. It was an apparition, like the Lady at Guadalupe or something! It was a sign to not give up hope. (That cat is now the father of Moka's baby Busmo, we call him Gemelo, which means 'twin', because he really does look like Buster.)

On September 22nd Buster came home for the first time. On Sept. 23rd my friend Lynne arrived with her cat Koko from Alaska to camp out with us, help on the decorating part of the house project, and experience six weeks of México. Buster would only hide under the bed. Lotería attacked him when he came in the house. She also attacked Lynne's cat when she entered the house. We separated them. All five of us were extremely upset. Lotería did not calm down, she had found good territory and wanted to keep it. Buster came first, Koko second, and unfortunately Lotería third. Luckily the electrician who was working nights and weekends, who usually brought his wife and deaf/mute child along, was willing to take Lotería home. His daughter had fallen in love with her. Lotería had been given her shots, spayed and was a loving cat for a one cat household. She could not co-exist with our two traumatized cats. That was that.

Buster found Koko intimidating and pretty much stayed under the bed until the end of October. He would only eat in the bedroom. He went outside, he climbed the tree and hung out in the abandoned building next door. He adjusted slowly. Not long after Lynne and Koko returned to Alaska, little Moka, the abandoned sick Siamese kitten, was curled up at my gate. And so Buster had to adjust AGAIN because I have this (at times) ridiculous soft spot for cats. He and Moka got along great, and he is the surrogate father to her kittens. He particularly loves the little guy that looks a lot like him. Buster has Busmo in training.

And so, to make a long story bearable, if that is possible at this point, Buster is now king of the commando. He has lots of cat friends, who he invites for dinner and catnip, and now he has kittens even though that is physically impossible. While brushing Buster last night as he relaxed on the bed, I remembered the anniversary date. Then I decided this could be Buster's birthday, since I don't know when he was actually born, so he will get tuna for dinner. We have both come a long way in the year that has passed. The commando is strong and life goes on.

Lotería with a feather toy on her head.

In Search of Don Pepe

Don Pepe y Linda.

Don Pepe is one of the first people I met when I came to scout out Mérida a year ago April. I met him at the Casa de Todos, a night spot where we like to hang out to smoke, chat, listen to music and play dominos. He is 78 years old. As bouncer he managed to keep the young guys under control. The regulars are under-thirty local guys who usually paid Don Pepe the respect he deserved, but some of them are rascals and gave him a hard time. I doubt they know who Don Jose (Pepe) Medina Medina really is. He is a famous Meridan journalist, a great ballroom dancer, for starters, and he journals his life all day every day. Don Pepe was not in the best of health when I met him, his diabetes giving him problems with his legs, his arthritis, etc. But a year ago he danced a waltz with me. It was a very special dance.

It came to my attention that while we were tripping through Central America, his conditioned worsened and he had to have a leg amputated. He had been living in a room in a pension, but would soon be confined to a wheel chair and would no longer be able to live in his own place. So they put him in an old folks' home.

Having a soft spot in my heart for Don Pepe and a genuine concern for the elderly stuck in nursing homes, I expressed a desire to visit him. Pablo wanted to go with me. We asked the few people close to him where he had been taken after surgery. We went on a wild goose chase to one place that is for old alcoholics. It didn't make sense he would be there, not being an alcoholic. There was another retirement home nearby but they didn't have him there either. We searched the hospital and one more home. No luck. We decided to ask the owner of Casa de Todos for more specific information: his real name and where he was actually staying. Ok, hindsight we all know is 20/20!

A week later we found him. We went to visit him and the gate was locked at La Divina Providencia. A nun let us in for five minutes but warned us we could only visit him during official hours, on Thursdays from 9 - 11 am and Saturday and Sunday from 4 - 5 pm. Doesn't the frikkin' Bible say to visit the sick and the elderly? How could they limit visitations to these lonely old folks? I was shocked and dismayed.

We have since had two visits with Don Pepe. He looks great, his spirits are incredibly high, and of course he awaits our visitations sitting next to the clock. He called us and asked for pens and paper and a shoe! He called another friend to bring him a towel and toilet paper. What do they supply in these places, I wonder.

Visiting hours.

Griping

Ok. So my last article sucked. I had no brain power it was too hot and there were too many interruptions. Enough excuses or need I provide more? I had a great idea for the palapas and sat here melting thinking JUST POST SOMETHING.

It rained like hell yesterday. It was the first time this rainy season that the water rose up in the street splashing on my neighbors' doors, coming into my parking garage like the waves of a lake, sloshing plastic jugs and miscellaneous garbage up to my gate. That doesn't bother me as much as the garbage men missing pickup for the past several days.

I enjoyed the rain, but it was not too good for business. You cannot teach kids to swim in a lightning storm. We wait around all day for the classes and then the afternoon rains spoil our plans and we feel frustrated.

Today I am flabberghasted (that is such a strange word and probably spelled wrong) how quickly the mosquitoes arrive after ONE lousy rain. I am covered in Autan, or Mexican OFF, yet one mossie is obviously having a field day with me here at the desk. Living in the tropics for decades I try to keep mosquito breeding out of the patio area.

The weather cooled down due to a cold front passing through, but I doubt that will last long. I covered myself with a sheet last night for the first time in months. I am not looking to pull out any blankets just yet. We still have two months of hurricane season left and the weather is so screwy maybe the July rainy season just started.

I am in an anxious state today. I have to attend a meeting I am not happy about. Then it is off to Mayan class where I am lost. Level one pre-school Mayan language was fun and simple. Now they expect us to act like adults and know this stuff. Hmmph! It would have helped to have a book or something to help learn in the first class, or a teacher that was a little organized.

Shit like this should be written in the morning pages, the ones no one sees. I know that. But I have decided that my blogs have been sugar coated and not necessarily reflecting my personality. I think maybe I sounded even too happy, because my friends who I thought were reading the blogs and used to write to me have abandoned me. I am the one who abandoned all my friends and family, insofar as I moved out of the country, but still....I have always made an attempt to keep in touch with my friends and thought friendship had no borders. when I know many of my friends live on their computers: games, chat rooms, joke sending for hours on end, it hurts my feelings some that they don't have time to drop me a line. I still care about them, really I do. I guess I am just frustrated and over sensitive today....something new and different for me, huh folks?

Livin' The Dream

Buster relaxes in the hammock for the first time!

What is the dream? Obviously everyone has a unique dream life, so I can only address this issue from my point of view. Jim and I lived the dream. We spent twenty years in Hawaii. Most people dream of a week there. For the first ten years in Kona we were happy at our jobs, which were also a dream. Diving and driving boats, watching whales and sailing around the islands sounds very romantic, and it is! We worked hard and played hard. Then we decided we were supposed to grow up and get real jobs. Our jobs were real, so I don’t know what confused us so much. I guess it was turning forty. We felt we had not met the anticipated family requirements of adulthood and responsibility. So we took indoor jobs. So much for living the dream in Hawaii. We stopped driving around the island after our numerous visitors’ tours. We stopped going to the beach and we burned out on boat jobs. Eventually we found it difficult to make it out to a friend’s house for dinner, we became such home bodies. We were no longer the professional partiers we were so proud to have been.

Once Jim became ill, Hawaii became our nightmare and not our dream. We had our circle of family and friends and overwhelming support from all of them, but the lack of medical care and the ever increasing cost of living there made it all a giant stressor. And the air. The air was my worst nightmare. I felt better living in Mexico City where the toxic air is infamous, than I did in Kona where the government insists there are no negative effects from breathing heavy metals and sulfur dioxide fumes.

After Jim passed away, I could no longer face my job. Frankly I could not even face the supermarket, because Jim had so much trouble eating his last year. I also felt like the leftover half of “Jim and Lin” and it left me empty inside. So I created a new dream. It took a while, but I am persistent and I am a survivor.

Now I am living in Mérida in the Yucatán Peninsula of México. I have always loved México, especially this area. I know it is a big dirty city of a million people. But it is the cleanest city in México! And it is relatively safe. These people have their own form of aloha spirit, which I feel is more alive and evident than what I felt when I was falling from grace in Hawaii.

I own my house. For the first time in my life I am neither paying rent nor a mortgage. This is a freedom I never expected to realize. My utilities and other monthly costs are a slight fraction of my former life in Hawaii. Today I feel I am not only living the dream, but living a life of luxury. I looked up luxury in the dictionary. According to the American Heritage Dictionary, luxury is “Something that is not essential but is conducive to pleasure and comfort.”

To give you an idea of what luxury is to me, let me describe a typical day in our lives. Last night I was sound asleep in the hammock,and when I woke up Buster was proudly sitting on my lap. This was his first attempt at hammock relaxation. He seemed so proud of himself for getting up there and surprising me. I look like I am half asleep in the photo, but Buster looks so content. This made me happy. This morning our momma kitty, Moka, woke me up at 5am to get my attention. She then brought little Busmo out for his first meal of Whiskas morsels. I brought the other kitties. Today is their one month birthday. First solid food and first time out of the box to romp and play. Wow! How fun it is to watch them grow. When their little bodies twitch in their sleep, are they growing?

After the morning feeding and playtime, the folks arrived for aquatic exercises. Before I lived here I was unable to force myself to get any exercise. Now I have a swimming pool. It is not the largest or most impressive swimming pool around (it is the ONLY one!), but it is a huge luxury that I have always had a desire to have. I felt if I had a pool I would use it. Minimally I exercise five days a week at 8am for an hour. At this time of year it is extremely hot and humid in Mérida. After I work up a sweat during the day, say walking to the corner store, for example, I jump into the pool and cool down, usually swimming or jumping around for a while. With the swim school in operation, several people enjoy the swimming pool every day. Pablo and I have also been known to put on some Chico Che music and dance in the pool at midnight. The pool has already provided plenty of joy for us, our friends and students. There is no better way to cool off or lower the body temperature than hanging out in the shady area of the piscina for a while. Ok, so the toddlers pee in the pool and we have to clean it once or twice a week….totally emptying and refilling it. Luckily the water comes from a well on the property, so the utility bills do not rise and fall according to urine levels.

Some kinds of work are very rewarding. Teaching a skill to a person is one of them. Teaching scuba diving has been my favorite employment during my adult life to date. I am getting emotional sitting here trying to figure out how to describe the gratification an instructor can feel upon completion of swim/dive lessons and open water experiences with students. Seeing someone overcome a fear or become comfortable in a whole new environment is the reward in itself. I was elated to see Pablo so thrilled after scuba diving for the first time in April, and I see him jubilant when his students learn to swim and have fun in the process. The joy is apparent on his smiling face, and on the faces of the kids, their families, and watching this daily makes me happy.

We have a housekeeper. Her name is Pilar. She showed up at the door almost a year ago looking for work. I was under construction and not ready. This year, with all the traffic involved with operating a school six days a week, and me trying desperately to write and having trouble sitting down long enough to concentrate, Pilar is a godsend. She makes us fresh fruit juice in the morning and cooks up a nice lunch, with fresh salsa and tortillas. She cleans the house, does laundry, irons, you name it. She is great. I hope we can continue to earn enough to afford this particular luxury, as it is new adventure for both of us. We are actually eating correctly, and I am sitting down to work on a regular basis.

Pablo. He is a miracle, a dream, AND a luxury. We did not intend to get involved like we have; it just happened and now it has grown. He has lots of talent and good energy. We work, we play, we laugh, we dance; we really have a lot of fun together. He happens to be young and gorgeous, and he treats me like a princess. He makes me happy. Very happy! He helps me maintain my youthful outlook on life! Not everyone approves of us, but we are the ones who have to live with ourselves, and we love being together. I have found a soul mate. Finding one true partner in life is a miracle, I don’t know if there is a word for how lucky I am to have found a second one.

We do not live extravagantly here on 75th street. We entertain ourselves mostly at home when we are not both working. We enjoy playing Risk and other table games. We do not always turn on the TV and usually we watch the Addams Family, Latin American Idol or American Football. We go out to our favorite club where Pablo plays his tambor. It is an odd little place, but drinks are cheap and there is usually good live music. We are trying to make it to a baseball game, the ice rink, the movies, etc, but usually end up at Casa de Todos. On our day off we visit ruins and cenotes, or head to the beach for some fresher air and the sea breeze. And of course to eat fresh conch ceviche and whole fried fish! This is livin’ the dream for me. It may not last forever, but what does? Should we not allow ourselves some time in this short life to live our dreams?