Molly, at least, knows how it's done. There was simply too little of this sort of behavior at Casa Den this winter. Since the last post we've made it home to cold Port Hope, Ontario and keep wondering why. Liz does have to teach starting next week but that seems hardly enough reason to drive this far north in January.
Work is going on, with the 2nd bath tiled now, the first floor wall tiles in, and the 2nd kitchen to be built and the floor tiles laid. The window guy wanted a big deposit for the much-risen quote for the windows and doors, and the palapero gave a new, much-higher quote for the rest of his work, shading the deck. A few umbrellas are starting to seem reasonable. So far the cash flow is holding out but it's not so sure if everything will be funded right away. Hopefully by the rainy season!
Mostly, this post is here just to put up the links for the photos:
Here's Liz's journal for the trip so far. I'll add a few comments of my own, in italics. Photos: Texarkana Timewarp; Dylan, Derek, Heather & Christine Tompkins at the beach; Molly, Mike and Peg Roske; 1st floor bath tile design.
Christmas 2009 Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca
Feliz Navidad--a little late I know, but it seems the general theme for us. We're here finally, at least. I'm writing from our 3rd floor apartment overlooking the ocean. I can see the waves on Zicatela, hear some birds overhead squawking, chickens clucking at their chicks as they scuttle through our yard and the wind rustling the palm tree next door and the palapa above me. I think most of the neighbours are having a long Christmas siesta to recover from last night's excesses.
We left home December 4 after many delays. I didn't actually believe I would be going until I was bundled into the minivan. Yes, a 1999 Nissan 'Quest' van. Wow, a saga to find on Kijiji and a continuing adventure I fear, and it was almost the right thing to haul the fridge from our sunporch, various building supplies, tools, a few computers an old dog and us to Mexico. Hopefully it will remain roadworthy to move some art from time to time when we get home.
The van was just one of the delays. After finally making a decision, the certification took an extra day to complete and then the brakes totally failed as Dennis pulled into a gas station in Oshawa on its maiden voyage home from the used lot in Scarborough. It was not a propitious beginning. It was rush hour Friday evening in characteristic late November gloom. Dennis called the car lot to complain from the grocery store where he found me. Oblivious to the problem, I who had been following Den in my car, had gone to pick up supplies for the upcoming family brunch as planned, while he was gassing up. The car dealership suggested Dennis return with the car that night as they would be closing in another hour and could maybe get the van fixed tomorrow. (Dennis agreed to this madness!) After tailing Dennis in Friday rush hour east (he was down a taillight I added to the list of woes), I was now to act as lead car back in the right lane making sure no one could get between me and Dennis limping the van along with only the handbrake to stop him. At least if he couldn't stop he'd only smash into my car... Thankfully we lived to tell the tale, dropped off the van and I drove back east through the last of the evening traffic. It was very quiet in the trusty Escort wagon. We probably wouldn't be leaving early Monday morning after all. Even if we got the van back Saturday as Dennis hoped (yet another lost art day!), I insisted that I wasn't about to get into the thing until our own, trusted Port Hope mechanic had looked it over. Silence. Agreed.
Another issue was my poor old Mac Mini. It was overheating, not always starting up and processing was slow at odd intervals. I knew I didn't want to subject it to the bounce of travel and the heat and dust of Mexico. I had backed up everything but was hoping for a sale to help me commit to the MacBook Pro of my dreams. I finally lept and bought one from Apple Canada online. I was assured delivery within a week--plenty of time before our original ETD for it to arrive, me to transfer my files and fall further in love with its sleek lines. Who knew they were going to send it from China? (via the Phillipines, Hong Kong, and the USA) Who knew I would be making so many trips to Toronto to look for vans that I could have picked up one at any Apple Store and not lost any more time on a specific shopping trip instead of finishing my paintings and getting ready to go? The MacBook Pro was almost a week late with Dennis tracking it daily online, and once the van was bought and roadworthy, calling, haranguing and finally driving 50k to Peterborough Thursday morning to pick it up from the FedEx office before it was put on yet another delivery truck for a tour of Ontario. Dennis was hot to leave. He had packed the van. I wanted to transfer my files. (At 11:00 she started the brain transplant and got the message "6 hours remaining".) I wanted to make sure everything I needed was in the van (Me: "What about?" Dennis: "I can't remember. Let's go." etc. etc.) and on the new computer (Dennis: "Come on already." Me: Can't we leave tomorrow?"). Eventually Dennis became deaf to my protests of "I don't want to arrive in small town Mexico and find I'm missing a cable, a disk..." as he bundled together the old Mac mini, some cables (but not the critical "Mac to Normal Monitor adapter"), some discs, my external harddrive and the brand new--in the house for an hour--MacBook Pro. It was 11:30 Thursday December 4. We still had a stop to pick-up my dad's hearing aids--they'd just called that morning to tell me they were fixed--and to visit my dad at the nursing home one last time before we dashed through Toronto hoping to avoid any traffic snarls and trying to put in as many hours of driving as we could that day on our way south. Needless to say it was quiet in the van.
My dad's continuing decline had been our other, most significant delay and the one that had had me not really believing I would be coming to Mexico at all this year. I had spent much of the summer and fall with him as he needed increasing care and was not safe alone at home. I had finally made the decision with his doctor and social worker to have him moved to a nursing home and had spent several weeks undertaking the disheartening task of visiting prospective residences. I finally chose three as suggested and once that was accomplished was told by the social worker that I had chosen "good" places so couldn't really expect him to have a placement for many months. I needed to add more names to the list and be less discriminating. It was awful. In the meantime I continued my schedule of staying with him 3-4 days and nights a week --often more, taking him to appointments and coordinating a revolving door of caregivers overnight with my sister and Jono coming by two evenings, Saturday and Sunday afternoons. There were still gaps of time when dad was relegated to waiting in his chair or in bed for help, but it was the best we could do. Dad and Marg hadn't wanted him to move in with us in Port Hope. Marg wasn't able to care for him at her house. Dad wanted to stay in his own home. Me moving in was the only other option but Marg balked at that in some fear of my claim on her dream of eventually building on the property and in the short term I had a show coming up and needed to finish some work in my studio. Besides I knew that me living there was only a stopgap solution as I would need someone to be with him during the day once I started teaching and definitely more sleep than I had been getting.
Dad had some good days and we had some nice fall weather into early November. I learned to appreciate sitting with him watching the birds, a walk in the woods while he napped, and after an early supper watching Little House on the Prairie and Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman (ooooh, what a hunk that Sully!) before going to bed soon after dad did at 9:00. Nights were often disturbed by dad needing help getting to the bathroom or in changing the bedclothes if he hadn't woken up in time. He was increasingly unsteady on his feet and mostly used the wheelchair instead of his walker. Falls were our greatest fear as he was too heavy for me to lift if uninjured and injury would mean a trip to the hospital. The ambulance had to come twice and we managed as best we could otherwise. On several good days I convinced dad to come out for a short walk in the wheelchair to see the fall colour or look at the lake. We had just returned from one such walk November 10 when I got a call that there was a private room for dad at Winbourne Park Nursing Home one of my top three choices. I was stunned. I had until the next day to make the decision for him to move November 12 or dad would be off the list of all of the nursing homes for six months and I would need to begin the process again. I knew there was no real choice but to accept, but I had to tell dad after we had had such a nice afternoon and also call my sister and take her to see the room with me that evening. It was very hard. Dennis was still away in Oregon and wouldn't be back for another week and I had to move my dear father and honoured veteran from his home of 50 years on Remembrance Day.
The trip down was a blur. We arrived December 9 after five and a half days of driving. We made it past Indianapolis the first night and spent the first night in an opulent room in a La Quinta using up some of Dennis' La Quinta Rewards. Sophie was smuggled into a dive hotel in Texarkana the following night (What wifi? We heard gun shots in the night, there was blood on the walkway to our free breakfast in the time-warped empty dining room--think Quentin Tarantino-esque, replete with appropriate musical soundtrack and surly waitress smoking at a back table. I was waiting for Dennis Hopper to slouch around the corner--and this was in the morning--we 'slept' through the nighttime excitement.) The next night Sophie toddled through the lobby in the dog- friendly Brownsville, Texas, La Quinta using up some more of Dennis's accumulated free nights. In Mexico we opted for two tryst Motor Hotels with their convenient-for-dog-smuggling individual garages and pass-through payment windows. The ceiling mirrors, bedside condoms, mints and tv porn no longer surprise us. We also like the bigger than usual Mexican beds, mostly hot water and edge of town driving convenience.
Our first ten days here we stayed in the apartment we were in last year at the house of our friends Derek & Christine. Although it had been planned for the smallest upper unit of our own house to be ready when we arrived, it was not. The electrician needed to connect us to the barrio power had not been answering his phone in weeks--it turns out he had been working in Hautulco, didn't know when he'd be back and had been embarrassed about not answering the calls--so didn't respond some more. Finally Derek saw his wife in town and when he came home for the weekend she sent him over. The plumbing also wasn't installed and therefore the water wasn't hooked-up. Dennis needed to help Alvaro the plumber/secondary electrician fix a few things, buy the correct parts and lend him some tools.
We enjoyed staying with Derek and Christine and the kids. Heather is now 5 and Dylan is 3 and they have busy precocious personalities. I don't know what we would have done without Derek to oversee the building project both as architect to talk Dennis through and improve his home-architect drawn plans and in the day to day translation and hands-on work on the site. We often have dinner--tacos in town or share what have. They have also converted us to sunset Pinaritas--like Margueritas but with tequila, lime and pineapple juice instead of tequila, lime and cointreau which seems to give everyone a whopping headache. The pineapple juice makes them taste so much more refreshing and almost good for you too. We had dinner with them on Christmas--bbq salmon(them) quinoa and salad(me) Itsku (sushi). Itsku and her daughter Laila live in the small apartment that Dennis and I originally rented from Derek and Christine. They look after Heather and Dylan when Derek and Christine are working. As a result Heather and Dylan move easily back and forth between English and Spanish with some Japanese thrown in for good measure.
One of my first house jobs was cement stucco colour corrrection. Dennis had opted for coloured cement so he wouldn't be painting regularly--he hates painting. Unfortunately the technique seemed beyond some of the workers and we arrived to a house that is a patchwork of yellowish shades splashed liberally with grey cement from the ongoing work on the lower floors. Lencho the Maestro has indicated that the exterior will be fixed up once all the cement work is complete, but if I wanted to not be driven to distraction in the 3rd floor apartment, Derek suggested I deal with it myself. What could be so hard? I'm an artist. I had made the original colour mix and knew what simple proportion of cement to pigment was needed. It only needed variations on that formula to blend in the edges of the various workers attempts at the colour mix and enough to cover the grey cement ring at floor level from the tile laying, to work. I spent days mixing and applying coloured cement to match/patch/hide wide variations in interior colour as the light shifted morning to night. Its somewhat better--it looks good in the late afternoon light that I finished it in. We have decided to do lower interiors cheaper, regular grey cement rather than live with more coloured cement variations. These rooms have windows and doors, and are supposedly easier to keep clean. I could have painted the 3rd floor many times over in the time I spent trying matching stucco variations with fresh cement mixes that change colour as they dry and dry in different tones based on the amount of water in the mix and the dryness of the underlying cement. The stucco in theory means less maintenance but I'm not looking forward to grease or salsa splashes, or over exuberant margarita blending on the kitchen wall or that first frustrated smack of an engorged mosquito on the wall near the bed...Someday this time and money saving experiment will probably get painted over.
I also spent two days on my hands and knees painting extra-smelly Seco Rapido (sealant) on the tile floor, the shower floor, the polido bench and kitchen counter. Even though it was so well ventilated, I was a bit loopy by the end. The workers for some reason added extra sand to the kitchen counter (excellent for shredding sponges and tipping glasses I guess). I needed to give it 4 thick layers of the Secco Rapido to tone down the roughness---polido is usually so slippery and smooth its like marble. Derek apologized and told me that he had balked at the look of it himself. Lencho explained because the rough cement counter had been built a while ago, when they went to do the finished layer the counter was too dry to give a smooth polido. Sand was added to strengthen the mix. The things you learn...next time we'll know...
We've been living and working from lists. There is no OneStop Shopping in Puerto Escondido despite the new Super Che store at the crucero downtown. We live up a bumpy rock strewn road to the highway and then about 4 k of bike, collectivo and truck swerving to the crucero, although we can see it in the distance across the sweep of Zicatela. We've needed, besides the things Dennis had forgotten to put in the van (no credit for the 1000 pounds or so of stuff I did put in), garbage cans, pots, glasses, plates (Mexican ceramics are no match for my old vitrified restaurant ware. One of the cobalt blue plates I found (my first new dishes ever!) was broken as Dennis washed the label off..and of course there are no more in town.) Trips for electrical and plumbing supplies to one of several hardware stores --if not them all to find the right things-- are daily. Who would have thought a towel rod was such a difficult thing to find? We'll have to bring those--kitchen and bathroom from home. The seller of the wooden dowel and scroll-sawed versions that we had finally agreed to, seems to have left town.
Its been windy and cool at night with ocean breezes that blow out the stove while I'm cooking dinner, mysteriously switching to blow down from the mountains and blow things off the shelves during the night. We've actually needed--blankets--! Who needs blankets on the coast? The small summer sleeping bag I always throw in the car for emergencies has been put into use as well as a Mexican blanket borrowed from Derek and Christine. For some reason the ubiquitous Mexican blanket sellers are no where to be found. I keep my eyes peeled for someone with a truckload of them on the edge of the highway. There's been quite a few trucks hocking watermelons, extra large baskets and overhead fan dusters, as well as hubcaps and various car customization paraphenalia--the usual syncopated lights, Virgin of Guadeloupes, buxom babes--but so far no blankets. I'm also looking for roll-up blinds and hope to get lucky on that front before I leave, having declined them on the beach, at various apartment doors and from highway trucks over the years.
Our currently windy roost has a great view. On three sides the wall is waist high with a wide bench on top for perching to watch the sunset or goat antics or to set a drink or laptop computer. The view to the ocean (SW, W, NW) is the best of course, but the view to the mountains (NW, N, NE) is also beautiful, especially in the morning when the sun is rising and they are the only things illuminated in a shifting mauve, pink and orange light. It must be admitted that the view on the third side (E, SE) is the least attractive. We call it the Space Camp View. An extra wall on the most easterly bay of this wall would have been a good idea. It would have partially blocked the Space Camp and probably cut down on the nighttime gale that had Dennis lying in bed with his anemometer held high measuring the wind speed. I also prefer to get dressed standing up. The bed is logically positioned in this corner away from the kitchen and across from the bathroom, and well, if I can clearly see our neighbour Slyvia, she can see me. Various solutions to the problem have been discussed at length: a storage unit that would sit up on the ledge and hold books, clothes, suitcases etc., as well as be a wall; a screen of bamboo; shutters; more concrete. In the meantime I bought two woven sleeping mats in town one day and we laced them to a bamboo pole left over from construction that was lying in the yard and hung this contraption up. This worked for two nights until the wind changed suddenly and came in stronger gusts. We woke to the long sleeping mats lifted up over the ledge and flapping in our faces. Dennis got the worst of it because he uses a pillow and Sophie and I were snuggled together further down the bed with our heads under the blankets for warmth. The next morning Dennis cleaned another bamboo pole from the yard that was slightly longer than the open bay and I laced that to the bottom of the mats so that the bottom pole would catch on the pillars holding up the palapa when picked up by the wind. So far so good, it has mostly stayed put and given some privacy through the visit with Peg and Mike, although it flaps noisily against the wall at the bottom when the wind gets going. We hope to get a more permanent palm spine screen built and installed before we leave. The wooden storage unit will wait until next year and be placed on the south wall.
Noise? Think firecrackers, chickens, roosters, turkeys, goats, dogs and radios and construction noise--some of it ours but thankfully little that uses power tools for long periods. Noche Buena and Ano Nuevo parties start after Midnight mass and go most of the night. There have been days of parties. The louder the music the more fun, of course. And then there was "The Lost Goat Drama". The other morning over breakfast we heard pathetic crying that got increasing loud and more distressed. One of the neighbor's goats (which herd we weren't sure) had ventured into our yard and got separated from the rest of the flock as they left for the pasture up the road. No amount of crying would bring help. It couldn't find a way back out of the fence and was crying and jumping from rock to rock, and running back and forth along the fenceline trying to get out. None of the local ladies chatting, cooking, doing dishes or laundry in their yard seemed concerned with its frantic wails. The gringos peering down from their 3rd floor roost of course were almost as distraught as the goat. Eventually the poor thing squeezed through the fence and ran wailing up the road chased by stone throwing children. We don't know if the children knew the goats/whether they were their own goats/whether they were having some cruel fun or what, because its usually children who take the goats out every day and stone throwing is one of the ways to keep the goats moving as well as hearty cries of "Chiva, shhhht, shhht, chiva! Camino! Chiva!" (If you know South Park, the older guy who yells "Chiva!" a lot makes one certain that "Chiva!" is Spanish for "Timmy!")
Beach Life: There has been less swimming, watching the waves and reading on the beach for us this year. We've been working pretty hard on the house trying to get it ready for Peg, Mike and Molly arriving. We are looking forward to some day trips and taking a vacation break with them. Right now, our beach life is mostly early morning walks (Dennis runs if the tide is low) and late afternoon swims--an hour or so between 4-5 is great after a day shopping, running errands--we need this electrical, that plumbing part, tiles, paint...painting and stuccoing...trying to get better internet...or working on Spanish homework. I signed-up for 10 classes--2 times a week for private 1.5 hour class with Heather's teacher, Soledad. Its very challenging--humbling--there's no hiding having not having done one's homework in a private class. Despite having taken Spanish classes on several occasions both in Oaxaca and at home, the grammar and conversation refresher is necessary. Hopefully I'll be able to practice at home so I don't forget so much from this year to next.
Sophie has been relaxing. She naps most of the time and seems happy to be where ever we are. Construction noise, loud radios, firecrackers and late night dog arguments that get all the other dogs around joining in, have no effect on Sophie. Being totally deaf can be a good thing. She had her hair cut soon after we arrived and she seems quite cool and comfortable with her warts, bumps and lumps despite the many sidelong glances she receives. The vet at the aesthetica we took her to for the haircut, just shook his head when we told him her age. (With the open walls and wind, there has been some confusion about just where is indoors and where is out. Luckily the seco rapido on tile floor cleans up easily.) She definitely needs a carry up and down the concrete stairs which is a little trying in the in the middle of the night when she feels the urge or in the heat of the afternoon with an audience of Mexicans at rest. I think our neighbours and the masons working on the house think we're extra crazy gringo's for taking such care of a dog. Stray Mexican dogs on the other hand, are lining up to be our friends for some reason.... which is nice, but other than the stairs, the oldest dog in Mexico seems to be doing just fine and we aren't considering a replacement at the moment.
Feliz Ano Nuevo!
I'm writing again Enero 9. Molly arrived by bus from Guatemala Diciembre 31. We spent the afternoon lolling on the beach at la Punta napping and refreshing ourselves bobbing in the waves. After returning up the hill to the apartment for sunset Margaritas and showers we debated the evening's agenda. Would we eat the dinner of fish I had bought at the market and tired and well satiated hopefully wander out to partake of some New Year cheer? Or would we plunge forth earlier, find some food and a party earlier and make it last through the small hours. The 23 year-old sobrina (niece) had the deciding vote and despite the 15 hour bus ride to get here was ready to go. We took a taxi to Zicatela and were on the strip by 8:30 looking for a party. We decided that rather than wade through a line to a restaurant, all of us had been exposed to enough microbes by this time that streetside Tlayuda's would be good leaning on a fence with a cold ceveza and people watching.
Tlayuda's are like Oaxacan panzarotti. We first encountered this delicious streetfood outside the market in Oaxaca a number of years ago and they have migrated in a big way to the beach this year. We could get them at a few taco shops in town last year but everyone has tlayudas here now and its a good thing. Tlayudas are cooked over a grill/fire-stoked comal. They are big tostadas spread with beans and Oaxacan string cheese and usually tasajo (skirt steak) or other meat, cabbage or other vegetables (if you are lucky). The cheese melts sticking everything together..then they are folded over, cut in two and served with lots of salsa on the side...it all drips down your arm..yum! I like mine sin carne--hopefully with more vegetables than the minimal cabbage. There's a Tlayuda place near the market here that will give me, as well as the cabbage pickle, tomatoes and nopales (cactus) --Tlayuda Heaven! The one's on the strip New Year's Eve were ok--it was New Year's, it was busy, it was fine. Their salsa was good.
We walked some more, crossed Playa Marinero to the mostly Mexican family-on-vacation-trinket-shop Adoquin and wandered there, then crossed back across the beach resting for a while at a beachside table for drinks and star gazing. Being New Year's we all went 'fancy' on the mixed drinks. I had my yearly Pina Colada. Molly had some colourful bikini removing concoction and Dennis went for the cuba libre I think--politically correct and the usual debate between the coca-cola keeping him awake and the rum making him sleepy. From there we sauntered on back to the end of Zicatela--half-heartedly voted on going home to bed--and all voted to march on. We "dragged" the Sobrina with promises of fireworks on the beach and surely after midnight Musica Viva! Back we went all the way to Cabo Blanco where the music was heating up and they had given up on their Especial Dinner/Party cover charge dream and were accepting all comers. We sat at the bar and Dennis and I reverted to Cerveza while Molly experimented again with mystery mixes of colour and potent libations. Then..we were counting down...dropping what we owed for drinks on the bar and running out to the beach with others as the fireworks exploded.
There were several tall bamboo castillos constructed on the beach that lit, started spinning with fireworks and took off over the ocean popping and spraying light in all directions. Things were exploding all around us. From our vantage point we could see huge sprays of light falling in the sky which ever way you turned along the beach and further away from the various sectors that make up Puerto Escondido. And of course many individual partiers had loud firecrackers to hurl into the breeze. It was a wild beginning to the new year. Leaving the beach with the crowds emerging in the dark, musica viva was everywhere. We stood for a long time outside of Casa Babylon listening and moving with the groove of a funk band--I think we've seen some of the musicians before here--Mexico City? Their Stevie Wonder covers brought me back to babysitting Jono and dancing with him listening to "Original Musiquarium." The adorable lead singer made me dream of things that never happened...and no I wasn't drunk--did I not say I had had my 1 yearly pina colada and 2 beers after probably several kilometers of walking and now at least 4 hours? I guess I'm just old. He came out to where we were streetside on his break (and asked us --meaning Molly -- to stay around) and I gushed a big thankyou for the tunes and later covered by teasing Molly about how cute he was. Time to walk-on.
Next we heard some surf-punk coming from a beachside bar and laughed watching some lucha-libre mask wearing dudes. Molly had been in a ska band in college so was appreciative but I think was a bit embarrassed by the old Tia bobbing her head, whistling and wanting to hear more from the boys in the band. Toronto's Tijuana Bibles they weren't, but hey, it was dark, I like that stuff and listened to it before she was born! Yikes! It was time to find a taxi (50 pesos, double the usual) and head home. Happy New Year!
New Year's Day we drove 1.5 hours to Huatulco to pick up Peg and Mike, Dennis's sister and Molly's parents. We left here in time to go snorkeling and have lunch at Playa St. Augustin in Hautulco before the big family reunion at the airport. Molly, Peg and Mike's second child has been away from home as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Guatemala since last January. She was home for a short time in the summer (bridesmaid at a friend's wedding) and won't be home again until she's done--or New's Alert--if she can arrange it, another summer wedding of a friend. The flight was late, but everyone was excited and happy when they finally came through the gate and we briefly toured the bays of Hautulco before heading back to Puerto Escondido for a week's vacation together.
We gave the reunited family the finished apartment and Dennis and I camped out in apartment 2 on the floor below. We had swept out as much construction dust as we could from the raw concrete floor and hung simple cotton curtains from the windows and doors most visible from the street. Dennis had also had Alvaro temporarily hook up the toilet and sink for us. With a mosquito net and a light on an extension cord, it was a relatively cozy nightly nest for the week. We had meals together and spent much time sitting around chatting, snacking and looking at the view when we weren't out exploring Puerto Escondido and surrounding area.
It was a nice break for us to have company, great to get to know them better and Dennis was very proud to finally share his bit of paradise with his family. Peg and Mike were easy going guests who cheerfully handled the minimal privacy (Molly slept on an air mattress a few feet away and we were back upstairs by 7 a.m.), shower line-ups, mosquitos, billowing mosquito nets in the night breeze, dogs barking, loud radios and roosters crowing. They agreed that earplugs were one of the most useful things that they brought. Molly was mostly patient with us all. Her fluent translation services were a great help to Dennis dealing with the continuing work on apartment 1, she made us tortillas from freshly ground corn masa from the market, always helped with other cooking, regaled us with stories about the mountain community she lives in near Toto in Guatemala and was good fun to have around.
We drove everyone back to Hautulco yesterday. Peg and Mike flew out at 2:30 and Molly's bus left at 8. We left early enough from here to pick up some last minute souvenirs in La Crucecita for daughter Michaela's elementary Spanish students before going to the airport for the teary goodbyes. Dennis and I received from them a wonderful handmade paper Guest Book as a thankyou and an overly generous contribution to bathroom tiles--both of which we hope will be enjoyed by other visitors in years to come. Leaving the Minnesotan's to check-in and contemplate the contrasts between Hautulco airport's palm trees and huge open palapa in their shorts and the -20 and cold car awaiting them in Minneapolis, Molly, Dennis and I headed to another beach before heading back to La Crucecita Huatulco's main town to wander some more, eat a late lunch and have some wonderful gelato before dropping Molly to the bus station after 5 so we could get back to Puerto before it got too dark.
Enero 12
I had 3 hours of Spanish lessons yesterday to make up for my family holiday last week. I don't think I embarrassed myself too much but I was rather tired when I finally left the school at 11:30. Next stop was getting the bathroom tiles for the first floor. This seems like a simple errand, but with only two places in town selling handmade talavera azulejos getting what you want takes a bit of running around and a lot of math. The kitchen on the first floor is done--Mike, Peg and Molly were part of that adventure. It looks good. I was only 80 white tiles over in my calculations...Thankfully white is a major component of the bathroom too--although as we've discovered, there are many different whites, most of which you don't see in the dark airless storage room with the stinky toilet at the back of the furthest talavera shop from us. The other more pleasant talavera place, at Millie a Mexican surfer's house, was out of white.
Lencho had told us Friday morning that Estevan the mason would need the bathroom tiles Monday. We needed to take Den's family to Huatulco Friday, so Dennis and I planned to pick up the sink and tiles we liked from Millie Saturday morning after catching up on our interneting, skyping and breakfasting at Dan's Cafe down the street from Millie's. This was a good plan except the internet was down at the cafe, Millie was short on the pattern tile we wanted so we needed to go through all the rejects several times to choose the least visually irritating variations (they are handmade..but I am an artist and see variation), she had no solid white or blue, and then after we paid and were carrying the tiles to the van, the box Millie was carrying collapsed breaking 8 more of the patterned tiles. More substitutes had to be made. Then of course we were hot and bothered, needed to return home to pay Estevan and Lencho and by that time the other talavera shop had closed. So Monday..
Into the hot smelly storage room stacked to the ceiling with heavy boxes of tiles I plunged intent on quickly picking up the 50 corner tiles needed for the vanity and window, the 63 blue bullnose edging tile, 96 solid blue tiles and 400 white tiles needed for the bathroom. Even though I had previously checked at this store that they had blue corner tiles, the boxes contained both the dark blue I needed and a washy brushstroked blue I didn't. There weren't enough of either and they didn't work well together. OK. New Math. What about only corners on the window or only on the vanity and bullnose elsewhere? Fine, but then there weren't enough bullnose and the blue on those was different again. White? Nope someone else was searching through boxes for elusive white bullnose when I arrived and he had already been thwarted on his original search for white corners. Now, I wished of course that we hadn't bought the blue and white sink and pattern tiles from Millie and I could Ôjust' choose a new pattern, change the entire colour scheme and redo all the math. I called Den from the store to see what he thought: my suggestion was to buy more full size solid blue tiles and cut them all in half for the window and edge. Den's suggestion: Come home now. Estevan hadn't shown up (a drinking problem that has made him a no show a few other times). Estevan had Den's key to the bodega and Alvaro the electrician had arrived and needed to get into the bodega to get his tools to start work. My key to the bodega was more of a priority than the tiles. I drove back across town after more than an hour of fruitless lifting, counting and re-counting tiles.
By this time Derek had arrived with Dylan to discuss the latest work schedule and we were occupied for the next hour and a bit with discussions on bathroom vanity height, shape and shelves as well as showing Dylan where the crayon we were marking the vanity height with could and could not be used when he absconded with it, the proper way to hit a nail so as not to hit his head with the hammer, drop it on his toe or any where near the sink which the whole bathroom tile pattern had been planned around and which was now changing the shape of the vanity. Derek rolled his eyes at the latest tile saga and suggested buying small 5cm blue tile to replace the bullnose and the corners around the window. He thought the edging around the vanity should still be the corners, even though now they were to be cut to accommodate a curve on one side and thus the precious corner commodity would be even more susceptible to breakage. OK. I hadn't considered the 5cm tiles, but was willing to try. Now it was nearing 3 o'clock and Dylan could be no longer safely entertained on the construction site and needed a nap. Dennis and I probably needed one too, but needed to eat more and grocery shopping hadn't happen after I hadn't got the tiles in the morning. We needed to get something to eat and return to get the tiles so that Estevan could start in the morning on the bathroom. Then we would shop. Then, hopefully rest. We told Alvaro we would be back in no more than 2 hours. (He didn't have a key, so couldn't lock the bodega when he was finished work.)
Now Dennis and I drove back across to the far end of town (probably 8 km). Expediency in eating was key but we were both too hot, too hungry and too tired to think. Rather than troll through the traffic in town looking for an open taco stand (we'd eaten nothing but variations on homemade guacamole and tostadas all day the day before rather than go shopping with the Sunday crowds at the Super Che) We thought we'd try our luck in the high end Baccocho plaza that housed the talavera shop. Of course there wasn't much open mid-afternoon, of course the Italian place looked good but was expensive and pizza and pasta hand-made especially for us wasn't what we were looking for at the moment. We opted for Carmen's Cafecito which was slow in the afternoon, didn't have much left in the baked goods section, but was but open. Omellettes were decided upon (simple, quick, usually good) but then we were told that that was breakfast food. Finally the waiter took pity on the visibly deflated gringos and went to ask the bored cook if they would cook us some eggs. Yes! Fed, we were ready to tackle the tile problem--hopefully before they closed at 5.
So we got the tiles. It took a while. There was a brief skirmish in the sweaty confines of the piled boxes about how many whites were needed--"You said two hundred." "No, I said 300." "No..etc." "Look, I said opening my latest scrawled calculations as proof...actually its 400." It was probably good we were both hot, sweaty and wrong. The boxes of tiles were finally carried to the cashier, recounted by her and her helper, the amounts tallied, paid, loaded in the car and we were out of there. We were the last customers of the day of course. As we drove away and with fresh air I redid the woman's calculations I realized that the 5 cm tiles were actually almost the same price as the full size tiles and we needed twice as many. Dennis was too tired and frustrated to complain about the price.
On we went to the market--where again they were clearing up and I just managed to get the fruit and vegetables we needed before I was literally swept out of the stall. Dennis took this opportunity to run to the other end of the market to get a new bodega key cut. Next on the list was the hardware store where Dennis had to search for a while in the dark corner filled with drawer after drawer of screws looking for the size Alvaro needed. Next it was Super Che and we fanned out Den picking up some ham and buns for his sandwiches, me some wine, beans and tomato sauce for a future dinner. It was getting late--sunset drinks were not possible--and Dennis wanted a bbq chicken for dinner. While I stood in the checkout line he ran up the street to our favourite Pollo Feliz to see what was cooking. By the time I'd paid, he was back empty handed and so waded back to the far corner of Super Che to get one of their chickens and then stand in line to pay. We were done. In the dark, quiet car on the way home Den remembered that Alvaro would have been stuck waiting for us, it being much more than 2 hours since we had left him. Thankfully he had gone home. The bodega was still open and thankfully we think everything is still there. How's that for a fun-filled day in Paradise?
Today has been slower. Estevan didn't show up again. The internet has been working intermittently. Derek called that Lencho needed more money as the floor tiles were ready and should be delivered sometime today. I'm waiting for them. Lencho also said that he had a new mason for us, manana. Den's gone to the bank and the Nissan repair shop to arrange for some repairs to be done on the van, then over to Derek's to talk to him about what needs to be done before we head home. It looks like we'll both be driving home in a week. We had been talking about me flying home by January 24 giving me an extra week here and at least a week to get turned around before school starts. Dennis thought he would stay to finish as much as possible on the house and hopefully meet up with Dave and Sue, his brother and sister-in-law who would like to visit. With all the delays in work on the house, it doesn't look like we'll get more done than the tiles on the first and hopefully second floor before we both leave. Den still has not been paid for some of his fall work and has not heard about upcoming work projects so is not feeling particularly flush. He needs to get back to more reliable internet and regular communication with his partners in Oregon to drum up some more work. Dave and Sue will become grandparents again any day and now are looking at dates closer to mid-March to travel for a bit of sun. Dennis would still like to meet them here, but although some of their dates correspond to my March Break, I'm installing my show at The Art Gallery of Clarington that week in preparation for the opening the following Sunday, so I won't be anywhere near a beach that week and would really like Dennis to be around for my show.
I think I hear Lencho--gotta go and unload floor tiles!
Sorry for the long wait. Time has been short. Since I last wrote we have had to prepare for the trip, find, buy, fix and load a minivan full of stuff for Casa Den, drive down, and then get the Casa ready for top-level occupancy. That means with electricity, gas, furnishings, internet, appliances, food, beer, etc. After that we could get down to managing the continuing efforts to stucco the lower levels, build the kitchen and bath shelves and counters, pick and install wall tiles, plumbing fixtures and such. During that we could prepare for and entertain our first guests, my sister Peggy and her husband Mike and Peace-Corps-Guatemala daughter Molly who were here from new year's to the 8th. Some of these activities are detailed in Liz's current journal which I will let me post here shortly, so I'll concentrate on what's not there.
The short version of the news: we're living in Casa Den. We finally got the electric service established about December 17th and moved over from Derek & Christine's the next day. It was great being there again and enjoying the pool and kids for 10 days or so while things got finished here. We are living on the top (palapa) level, with a small bath and a 30 square meter big room with the kitchen in one corner, the bed in another, the dining table in the third, and the multifunction space in the fourth (computers, table). On three sides the walls are only about hip high with a foot+ wide ledge on top. It turns out living without walls can be thought of as very luxurious camping, with the fresh (70-84 degree F) air, neighborhood noises, and, unfortunately, the mosquitoes one gets with camping in lots of places. We got some mosquito nets for over the beds and have a system...if it is too windy for the net it is mostly too windy for the bugs too. The hot still nights are a bit too warm.
We arranged for the middle floor to be worker-free, swept up, and equipped with a toilet, bath sink, a few lights and power receptacles, and cloth curtains and doors for the duration of the guests' visit, and Liz and I stayed down there since Mike is much taller than I and would fit better on the queen airbed upstairs than the smaller spare beds. Our nights down there were pleasant enough, with the shorter bed Sophie could make her way on and off, if not through the mosquito net, without a lift. She's still with us at 16.5 now, by the way, deaf, not real quick, but still as loving as ever.
So far we have arranged for the kitchens, baths, and floor tiles to be done over the next month or three, and for the wiring and plumbing to be pretty much done (some lighting fixtures to follow). What hasn't yet been decided (or funded) includes the treatment of the stairs, the installation of windows and doors on the lower floors, and lots of landscaping, walls, fences, plantings, etc. outside. All of my well-paid work from last fall had the bank account in pretty good shape but with taxes coming up, and no firm work up north yet on the horizon, some things might not get done just yet.
The neighborhood turns out to be pretty livable, if you get used to smelling like DEET some of the evening and sleeping under a net. The daily cacaphony includes roosters, dogs, goats, and now turkeys, delivery trucks for tortillas, water, pizza, etc., plus Mexican radios, construction noises (here and elsewhere), and the jake brakes of highway trucks sometimes. And the sound of waves breaking when the wind and waves are right, but earplugs are often useful. The view is wonderful up here, a bit of beach and a lot of ocean, and much of town spread before you. We found that not having a east wall made us rather intimately acquainted with Sylvia across the street so we hung up some woven floor mats above the south half of that wall to afford us (and her) a bit more privacy. They get tossed about in the breezes but a length of bamboo tied along the bottom keeps them from flopping in on the bed (well, almost always; we had an amazing windstorm up here last night -- no damage -- but that's another day's blog).
The 500 meters down to the beach takes about 8 minutes strolling, and the swimming at the point is nice as ever, though we haven't found the late-afternoon time as often as in less-busy years here. Construction in PE may have slowed with the rest of the world, but has by no means stopped. The road project got largely done through this side of town but HAS stopped in an unfinished and occasionally frustrating state. The large lot across the road south of us has a caretaker's shack now and caretakers with kids and dogs living there but something much bigger seems to be planned. Another few places between here and the beach are being built or enlarged now.
Our tile decisions are something like two-thirds done. Liz worked out a design for the lowest kitchen with a field of white-ish tiles sprinkled with some floral tiles and solids in four colors. The countertop was again green concrete and it all came together great. She is buying 600 more tiles today, after Spanish lessons, to use in the lower bathroom, with a double-high band of blue patterns and some surprises among the ivory elsewhere, complementing the blue & white sink which will be mounted in a concrete vanity on that level (we have pedestal sinks elsewhere in the slightly smaller baths). We still have the 2nd level to outfit but she has ideas about that already. I get a vote, but know she knows such things better than I.
So Casa Den is habitable, and getting more so. It might even be available for guests pretty soon as Liz's school year looms in a few weeks. It looks like we will be driving back about January 20 or so, unless we fly here home and I stay a bit longer. There is discussion that my brother and his wife may meet me back down here next month but that is all up in the air so far. Anybody interested in trying it out should let us know.
