Thanks Brian – One day I want to climb that Mountain – his looks like a good way to go. Anyone want to join us (like my son and his novia)?
Happy day two of Día de los Muertos (Day of the Dead).
This Blog had its largest single day attendance on November 2nd, 2005 – more visits than the entire population of Xico! Thanks to Harvard’s Global Voices. They made reference to my Blog entry you can read in its entirety below.
My story was titled:
“The Grateful Dead”
It is the season of Dia de los Muertos or The Day of the Dead around these parts. While this holiday coincides with Halloween and it has similarities it is a very different holiday indeed with a very different spirit to it. In Ursulo Galvan, our colonia, the celebration of Halloween is not permitted. The Calypso family is not Catholic but we have a sincere respect for our many neighbors that are. As we approach the third day of celebration which culminates into a total of five, we begin to understand more about what this holiday is all about.
Dia de los Muertos is about remembering your loved ones that have passed from this world. It is NOT about ghouls and goblins and witchcraft, quite the contrary. It is about a father or mother, uncle or aunt, sons or daughters or a grandparent – family that has died. Its origins are European brought to Mexico by the Spaniards.
In America dying is about closure and putting such memories to rest. The romance of Mexico includes celebrating the remembrance of our dead family members and friends.
Last night as Anita and I were walking home from a Day of the Dead party I got to thinking about the dearly departed in my family, about my parents that died within two days of one another nearly four years ago; about my mother-in-law and Anita’s several uncles and an aunt that died in recent times. I thought what a good thing that these people take time out of their busy lives to honor, respect, and love and remember their deceased family members – really a lovely thing.
Our friends Miguel and Veronica, our neighbors Jose Louis and Evita and just about everyone else in the colonia has a personalized decorated alter in their home to commemorate the passing of loved ones. I won’t go into the details of the construction of these memorials as there are plenty of places to read about the details of this and the different aspects of the multiple days of celebration here on the web should your interest be peaked. I will say from my perspective what a wonderful celebration of remembrance this is and what an honor it is for us to be here sharing in this most important celebration.
Putting our loved ones to rest is important, honoring and remembering them throughout our lives is even more important. On November 2nd there will be a big celebration at the cemetery at the base of the road leading to Ranchito Calypso. You have to love it here. Stay Tuned.
To continue with yesterdays stories – I pulled apart the last 3 meters of piping to the two lower water tanks. The pipe is 110 mm wide – or about the equivalent of 4” PVC drain pipe. So we are not talking narrow pipes here. Still the pipe was jammed with a thick course black leafy materials. The ‘plug’ of this stuff was built up within the pipe a good 24-30 inches – imagine a softish plug of tobacco as big round as your fist and as long as your arm.
In order to get the pipe free I had to complete a partial break that had occurred back in April. I had no pipe parts but was able to lash up a half of pipe or so to where if there was some water it could reach the tanks. The pipes at the last ten meters should be connected without gluing – there is little to no pressure to deal with.
As luck would have it – the rain came back last night and this morning the two tanks that hold about three hundred- twenty gallons of water are full. Next trip up we will bring parts to do a proper repair job – in the mean time we have water – yea!
Now back to the fire log issue. As mentioned yesterday I did a Google search on “fire logs”. 92,600 links came up. But, on the first page 9th place caught my eye. “Java Products Corporation”
Java-Log is the only product of its kind in the world! Brighter burning, Better scent, Better for your chimney, Better for the environment, Easy to light.”
Again for those of your regular readers, not my family because they don’t read this Blog, but the others know I am a BIG coffee fan. Starbucks was actually patterned off a little side business Anita and I operated in Southern Oregon called Bean Cuisine. We owned five grand coffee carts that operated in Malls, various fairs, some shows and even in front of Wal-Mart.
OK I might have exaggerated a tad about the Starbucks thing, but they did send down a spy from Seattle to checkout our operation and try to find out what and where our coffee beans came from. I wrote a column for a State-wide newspaper. My official title was coffee and wine editor – two of my favorite things. I learned a lot about the growing of the coffee beans as well as the roasting techniques. To say my interest was high is putting it mildly.
So now you have some background on how my eye got led to the word JAVA just a few links below the “How to make your own fire log” link. Apparently they make the Java Logs using used coffee grinds, some wax and molasses. This was being done in Canada in conjunction with Nestles using some of their by product from the manufacturing of instant coffee. We have a huge Nestle plant in Coatepec.
The burning question is has anyone out there tried or even seen a Java Log? I saw where you can buy six logs for under $30.00 at Ace Hardware no less. The thought of making some coffee logs excites me – see how easily I am excited If you have tried them or know other places to get them – let me know.
Since Wednesday we have tamed the jungle, repaired the electric, repaired a broken water pipe, cleaned the water tanks and got the system running again. And we have cleaned the house. A good set of accomplishments. We are headed back down to Ursulo Galvan today. Stay Tuned!
If you are following along you will recall I jury rigged the electric so the 220 volt power could fire up the water pump. Then through the ingenuity and the help of my neighbor Raphael, and our gardener extraordinaire and other neighbor Javier, we repaired a hole in a copper pipe water line. At the same time we cleaned and prepped a 2500 liter, 450 liter and 750 liter water tanks. The gutters were shiny, dull aluminum sans leaves and debris.
We were ready. All that was needed now was some rain. The outlook was good. The Weather Channel that shows up on my Home Page predicted rain; actually it nearly always does. If you were to believe that thing then Xico is Water World. We do get 60+ inches of rain a year – this is the tropics not the Mexican desert.
A full rain-dance card and water tanks were in our future – so we thought. Nearly right on cue the rain started. We thought how lucky are we? Two days of sunshine to get our water system back together, now dancing and praying for rain and here it is – life is good…well read on.
The rains started slowly. I was worried that we would get nothing more than chipi-chipi. That would not fill our barrels. But the dance and prayers worked. Soon enough we had a down pour – we were excited. By now it was dark. I grabbed a flash light and shined it towards the tanks to see the silvery liquid pouring from the pipes to the tanks – nothing, huh?
I braved the deluge. I started at the gutter where it feeds the down pipe that feed the tanks. Water was gushing from around where the gutter spout inserts in the pipe; I mean gushing. It was such a gusher that the window in the northwest corner area of the house was taking on water. Water was seeping through everywhere and down the wall – inside!
I grabbed a couple of things to divert the flow off the building wall. I now knew obviously there was a total blockage in the pipe. Our clean and ready system wasn’t going to see any water this night. Ugh.
Can you imagine the disappointment as the rain fell through the night? It was as if every drop was a painful reminder that the precious liquid was not getting to our tanks – woe is me.
Tomorrow (now today) weather permitting we will start researching to track down the blockage. Here again the pipes are embedded in cement and earth. It won’t be an easy chore, but an oh so necessary one. Keep on coming for further development on the water wars.
I shouldn’t complain we were cozy. I made a discovery I want to share and ask about. As we were leaving Rancho Calypso at the close of sale, we went to town and bought a box of those pressed fire logs. You know the kind that emit colors and are easy to burn – even supposed to be better for the environment than real logs. We placed a couple in each of the two kiva fireplaces. The thinking was the new owners might arrive weary from the drive from Austin, Texas to Pueblo, Colorado. I had left small stacks of fire wood ready for the kivas, but this would be faster and simpler.
Kiva fireplaces take a little know how to operate. I had explained that they should begin with small fires as often the tendency is to get a rip roaring blaze to start – not the method with the kiva fire place. Anyway, there were a couple extra logs in the box of however many. I tossed them in the trailer and off we went heading south to New Mexico. This trip I brought the two extra logs here to Mexico. We have no fireplace in New Mexico.
Last night with the lluvia y la niebla (rain and fog) we decided to have a fire. I felt like a weary traveler. So I went and grabbed one of the pressed logs. The package read, “Firelog duraflame – perfect for longer duration weekend or special occasion fires”. It was Friday night and how much more special could it be than a cozy evening with Anita fireside?
There is a reddish sappy or pitch wood that is sold in small bundles here in Mexico. It is specifically to get fires started and works really well. I noticed a length of this wood in my small pile of fire starter stuff. It was the perfect length to place against the duraflame log. I know they are designed to simply light the outer paper and off they go. I have used them before. I recalled, explaining to Anita, that some of the finer hotels that I have stayed at often supplied these duraflame logs in the room. We started talking wondering what these logs were made of. I did a Google search.
As nearly always there was plenty of information. I even found a recipe to make your own using old newspaper, copper sulfur phosphate, rock salt, distilled water. How cool was that – have to check into that copper sulfur phosphate though – I suspect it causes the blue and green color in the flames.
But for now enjoy the moment. The log caught immediately with the help of the pitch wood. After warming ourselves at the fires side I returned to the computer, only a couple steps from the fire place. I scanned more Google listings returned from a “fire logs” search. Something caught my eye – because I am nearly at my self-limited 1000 word maximum you will have to come back tomorrow for the rest of the story. Tomorrow is the first day of the Day of the Dead Celebration around these parts, and the end of daylight savings here in Mexico. Stay Tuned!
I have written before – the Mexicans are a very resourceful people. After the first failed attempt to repair the water pipe Anita asked, “What do you think you are going to do now?”
I gave her my standard answer, “’Not sure. I am going to have to think about it.” Buy some time.
I thought plumber? Do they have plumbers here? Or just guys that can plumb. How would I ever get one up here? I remembered Esther telling us she had her washing machine fixed in Ursulo Galvan. She had to drive to Xico and pick the guy up and then return him; not unusual around here.
Basically I was pretty sure a guy in a panel truck with ABC Plumbing embroidered on one side and Joe on the other of his shirt wasn’t going to show up here; nor would his $85.00 an hour fee. What do plumbers get these days? I know my brother-in-law pays $105.00 an hour shop rate to get his oil changed.
Moving on from that fantasy, I thought perhaps a new hole through the cement and a new pipe. That sounded like a hassle and something that would require at least a trip down and back – probably more – I always forget something.
Then there was Babs who commented, “My first thought was WOW someone who knows how to logically think and fix complicated things!” Could I let a great compliment like that slide by and disappoint her – no.
All this is running through my mind while I am completely engulfed in a 450 liter water tank (yes, I can fit – muy flaco). Javier appeared topside looking for my Gerber version of The Leatherman Tool – you know the pliers, knives, screw drivers thingy we handy guys carry on our belts – its major use is for when you get a non-twist off brew. Last I knew he was weed eating away?
Apparently while all that heavy thinking was going on in the scummy water tank Raphael showed up with a new gas torch. He and Javier had put their Mexican heads together and decided to make a 1.5 inch long patch – they patch tires don’t they?
Javier Torches (ers) the Leaky Copper Pipe
A lot of work went into getting that patch ready. Also, Javier chipped away additional cement to get a better view and access to the damaged area of the copper pipe. To shorten this up – after one failed melt-on, the second attempt worked like a charm – well at least like a water pipe – hooray! Beer for everyone!
I said to the two in my best Spanish, “Ustedes son muy inteligentes – muy solución Mexicana.” They looked at each other and LAUGHED. But it is true. The Mexican with few tools and less dinero comes up with many ingenious ways of fixing something.
Now Babs would think I am smart and Anita would have water. I finished up the cleaning of the 450 and 750 liter water tanks; Javier finished weed eating.
The Tanks Mid Cleaning
We decided to have Javier hitch a ride with Raphael down the hill; we would stay for a couple more days now that we have full electricity, water and a yard where a tiger can’t hide in the tall grass – lions and tigers and bears!
I wanted to include this photo of a bottle of ketchup taken in San Francisco last weekend. Anita particularly liked the shot.
Our water system, for those with a technical bent, is gutters surrounding our metal roof on the west and east ends flowing into a 450 and 750 liter water tank. That is equal to 317 gallons of water when both are full. These tanks are piped together feeding a 220 volt ½ hp (I think it is half) pump. We can pump the two tanks worth of water or some fraction thereof to a tank sitting up on a slab at the top (northwest) corner of our hectare of land. From there the tank gravity feeds water to the house to the tune of about 30 lbs. pressure.
We can store a total of 950 gallons of rain water. In the time we have lived here we have never run out of water – although we are not here full time. We probably could use another 2500 liter tank up above – that would give us an additional 650 gallons storage. We will have to see about this modification in the future.
Probably a lot of you are tired of Mount Orizaba photos – but for those not, here is a photo I captured this morning of the peak: http://www.ranchocalypso.com/peaks.JPG
We haven’t been to Rancho del Cielo in more than four months. Leaving your house for four months is never a good idea. Our neighbors in Ursulo Galvan open our doors and windows and maintain the yard while we are gone.
We thought we had a gardener in place for the Rancho – but as it turned out that wasn’t the case. The yard turned into a veritable jungle. This trip Javier, a neighbor in Ursulo Galvan, joined us on the ride up to help with the taming of the jungle as I called it.
Javier Attacks the Jungle – No Small Task.
We arrived to that problem and a couple of others. The water in the 2500 liter stoagre tank that was full when we left now was drained of all water – oops. We have two smaller tanks that collect the rainwater down below the casa. From there the water is pumped up to the large tank where water pressure to the house is gained. A nice design – thank you Harvey.
I had been up here a week ago to check in on things and the water was fine – so this total depletion of water had happened in the short time since. I guessed perhaps someone turned on an outside faucet? The two rain collection tanks were full. The problem being that I had assessed on the previous visit the pump was not working – I brought a meter. As it turned out one leg of our 220 volt service was dead due to a 250 volt 60 amp fuse blown – this about the size of a 12 gauge shot gun shell. I fabricated a jumper with some number 8 wire.
The pump was now running, Javier was hacking down weeds and Anita was cleaning. I connected the modem to the satellite dish and fired up the computer to the Internet. Raphael our vecino (neighbor) across the road came over wanting to say hello and compare weed eaters. He was impressed with Javiers speed and work as compared to his own. In the end I think it was operator more than equipment.
By this time Javier and I were in Raphael’s house drinking a beer. Anita whistled from across the street. There was a water leak!
It turned out we had a small hole in a copper pipe that goes through the first floor cement to the kitchen on the second. The mystery of the drained tank solved, we started dealing with the repair. Raphael actually drove down to Xico and brought back equipment to solder copper pipe. But after a couple of hours of messing around we gave up trying to flow solder into the hole – it was just too close to the cement and in a nearly impossible place to get out even after chipping away cement; bottom line – no water. Of course this did not make Anita happy.
Javier and I had cleaned out the big tank in as much as it was empty. After I pumped all the water from the smaller tanks I could see this was a good time to clean those (one of my projects for today).
I have always believed that running water and drain pipes through cement is a bad idea. Fortunately most of the piping here is exposed except of course for the part now leaking. This bolsters my opinion that pipe chases and through boxes are a better way to go. Not sure how we will fix the problem yet – I’ll get back to you.
In the mean time w had a quiet nights sleep. Javier and I got up about 5 AM, drank coffee and are waiting for daylight and Anita to wake up. I am listening to Windham Hill and enjoying the morning. It should be a lovely day here at Rancho del Cielo sans agua. Stay Tuned!
A while back I read a rather stodgy report, well reported by a couple of stodgy PH.D types. You know when it is a “sampling” and “respondents” and folks are in “marital unions” not simply married – all this connected to tables and charts. I don’t argue that these evaluations have their place – it is just that they are so lacking in color – read boring. That is probably why many of you are here – to get the color commentary of living life in Mexico?
Oh and they have average and median (there is a difference you know). One ‘fact’ reported: “The median monthly expenditures of the respondents was in the range $901.00-$1,500.00 [U.S. dollars].” Correct me if I am wrong but shouldn’t that ‘was’ be a ‘were’? Median is described as the number separating the higher half of a sample. So half spend more and half spend less than that range – confused yet?
This ‘sampling’ was from a few years ago so we might give more credence to the upper figure by this time. Not too far back Michael Dickson wrote, “We live on about $20,000 U.S. a year.” (there in Patzcuaro, Michoacan). He is ahead of the curve in oh so many ways, and that he lives, “[in] a 3,500-square-foot, very Mexican-style, beautiful, two-story home with a view of the mountains” I wonder if he and his Guapa Senora use walkie-talkies to keep tabs on each other in that place?
Anita and I on the other hand have two casitas in the small town of Xico whose total square footage would not be equal to half of that of the blessed Dickson couple. Additionally, our primary residence is on the southwest corner of a little ghetto called Ursulo Galvan. We actually can lay claim to the low end of that aforementioned median monthly expenditure range – still in 2008. Keep in mind we sleep most nights in a Lance Camper resting on stacks of Mexican block.
No one has ever asked for us to fill out one of those questionnaires about expatriates living in Mexico (I can’t for the life of me understand why But for those of you new to this Blog we are finally headed up to our other location overlooking the charming Mexican pueblo of Xico, Veracruz. We call our little casa Rancho del Cielo. Which I was recently advised is the same name as Ron and Nancy Reagan’s ranch in Santa Barbara – believe me the like comparison stops there.
We are taking Javier one of our neighbors and a fine fellow. Javier owns the ONLY Stihl weed eater in existence in the Hood. We need some major jungle taming. I am taking my camera so tune in tomorrow for a report of color commentary sans statistics. Stay Tuned!
A repressed cowboy lurks within me, longing for the open plains.
Is paz y tranquilidad (peace and Quiet) an older person’s thing – I think not. I remember even that youngster ‘Eddie Willers’ writing about the noise in Mexico.
Actually, it has been written many times many ways that Mexico is a noisy place. You will accept this fact or leave – no one is comfortable with oft placed bits of wax like plugs stuffed in their ears; and we can only mask the sounds with our iPods until the batteries run down.
Being a libertarian type I tend to have a live and let live policy. But, Mexico can give you a new slant on the rules of cohabitation.
Take this for example. I have been part and parcel to a lot of building in my life. I like to build – oh maybe not actually swing a hammer, although I have, but the acts of building. The delight in being part of something appearing out of nowhere; something that has perfect functionality because I was at minimum involved with the design – a good fitting outgrowth. During many of these acts of construction I have been required to obtain permits, permission, to add value to the planet.
Again, being of libertarian persuasion I was almost universally bothered by the red tape required to have a placard placed on the building site proving that I had permission to make a lot of noise with saws and hammers and cement mixers and such. Always these entitlements had a time limit – usually cease and desist after six months, and seldom was that length of time required in actuality – so I never thought much about it.
I have known others that exceed their permission. They had to renew, usually paying again an entire fee and that only with some reasonable excuse attached. This galled me. I gathered up suitable wrath to add to the person’s flame regarding how these official minions could be such a bother and how they ONLY required these placards of permission to keep tabs on the future ability to raise ones property taxes after having added value. Where do these people get off getting involved in my life? I have always subscribed to complaining that improving one’s property should reduce taxes as the area is more beautified and improved upon for the betterment of all. Don’t even get me started.
Mexico, ah Mexico – in our corners building permits are but a constriction of the city – hear about people build as they please; what could I have to complain about with that? Well hold on to your hammers and tool belts dear readers. Suddenly those horrid rules and invasions of individual freedom came into better focus.
Our charming little Casita situated in Poor man’s Shangri-La is a nearly 10,000 square foot property that slopes southward, a river running at the southern border. A grand sized lot by Hood standards I might add. At the northern border is a piece of dirt road that only just turned that way from pavement by perhaps 25 feet. Across the dirt road is a property that rises above the road. Two shanty shacks were there when we arrived on the scene some four years ago; admittedly an eye sore of sorts that one might describe as charming, or quaint to avoid that truth.
Two young women occupied those clapboard casitas with their very young babies (two each I think). They both have husbands that are brothers, but very seldom seen as they are undocumented laborers in the U.S. I think we have seen the brothers on the scene twice in four years. They send money ‘home’ to the girls or their mother (not sure which) to be used to maintain the girls and their off spring. Some funds are going to guess what – construction.
In more than three years the shacks have been torn down and block buildings began to rise up above the otra lado (other side) of the street. These kinds of projects most often include stoppages for funds from NOB. Even though we are absent from our Casita property 4-6 months out of the year, it seems like whenever we are here there has just been an influx of funds and some aspect of the ongoing building project is happening 6 days a week.
We have lived with ongoing pounding, strangers wandering around on that property before daylight and into the dark of early evening. The street is often bustling with activity and materials. Even though the dirt road continues on another 100 yards or so, it is often a tight squeeze between the little shrine and the dirt wall that rises up to the landing these projects rest upon – never mind that because the few families beyond don’t really own vehicles. Their horses and donkeys pass by with ease. All still our truck’s parking space in front of our Casita is often in jeopardy from swinging 6 meter lengths of rebar or stacks of block or fresh cement swung onto shoulders of trabajadors (workers). Sometimes when there are 8 or more workers I move my truck to safer ground.
Somehow through all that building they still manage to have music blaring – all the while the hammering continues, “What are they hammering over there?”
It dawned on me a while back that those six month ‘get it built or else’ permits must have risen up from the depths of situations like this – it started to become clear.
I have suggested in the past that a better way to buy here in Mexico is a place where all has already been built around you so there are less surprises in your future – believe me they are often remodeling longer than building so you are not totally exempt from this onslaught, but chances are better for less problems. One day this too will pass – those casas will be completed and perhaps even the father’s will have returned from the north (really doubt that part). By then the children could very well be teenagers though and that will present all kinds of new noise to deal with. I’ll be quiet now – but please Stay Tuned.
“Adventures of a Third World Shopkeeper” is written by one of my favorite wordsmiths on the Mexico Blogging circuit. “Eddie” is too young to be the curmudgeon he is and yet he does it so darn well, the likes of Michael Dickson (Tales of Zapata Street), Steve Cotton (Same Life – New Location), and myself; curmudgeons that have earned their stripes have more than allowed ‘Eddie” in the club – we have embraced him. The lad doesn’t mince words and he is scary bright about it.
We that love the dude are often starved for his words. We find he is not as prolific a Blogger as some of us more blabber mouth types (Steve and I as examples). But when he bellies up to the bar he does not mince words; rather he dispenses them with an acerbic grace that causes one to ponder how such wisdom has been gained by such a youngster.
It seems based solely and surprisingly on his two latest installments that ‘Eddie’ is heading north of the two borders to the north of his fellow extranjeros. He poses the wild idea that he will soon be a “Reluctant Canuck”. I have often written that Mexico is not for the weak at heart. It can be a mean, dusty, dirty barroom brawl of an existence. But it has been a better place to live with ‘Eddie’ watching our six up there in the northern end of Mexico in the State of Tamaulipas.
Now perhaps a Gulf oil town too close to the border to avoid the drug contention is no place to bring up a young daughter and operate three stores that are being diminished by the likes of the invasion of Sam’s Club and such. He writes in justification: “… unless our business is radically re-positioned it will die a slow and natural death. Already, Sam’s Club and Soriana’s ‘City Club’ outlets are making inroads in to our traditional wholesale customer base of bars, restaurants and taco stands.” The man does not lack rational thinking in making this move; although I might argue the cold weather and the very socialistic society up there – hardly suitable for a warm weather loving libertarian like myself. It is a fun read to go back and learn why and how he made the move to Mexico from London – it all started back in 2002. I wonder when the last time he read that?
The bottom line is Anita and I wish him, “wifey” and daughter all the best on their next adventure – God knows I have had enough of my own. I would miss any guy with the temerity to mix his metaphors with Ayn Rand’s Eddie Willers, collect old radios, and that likes to listen to Stan Kenton (I used to work with Kenton by the way ‘Eddie’ – just to add force to the age issue here). I am also going to miss Adrian’s occasional visit to the Forum. Have a good and safe trip my friend. I hope you decide to take on a fictional character and once again become your own brand of that, Blogging from Canada – oh and if you come to your senses, being young is a great excuse for miscues – you will be welcomed back with open arms my prodigal son. Stay Tuned here anyway, will you ‘Eddie’?
I recently re-read a book by the same title as this entry. It was an account of the Dalai Lama’s take on happiness. Essentially compassion and altruism are characterized as the real valve of human life. The book opens with “I believe that the very purpose of our life is to seek happiness.”
I am not a Buddhist, but found the title and subsequent read intriguing. The Dalai Lama writes, “ …if people have compassion, naturally that’s something they can count on; even if they have economic problems and their fortune declines, they will still have something to share with fellow human beings. World economies are always so tenuous and we are subject to so many losses in life, but a compassionate attitude is something that we can always carry with us.” This was written 15 years ago.
Some very compassionate people have made donations on behalf of the poor people of Ursulo Galvan. Project Warm Hands spearheaded by Wayne has taken a life of its own. The knitting projects are yet to come, but people have seen reason to donate via Paypal. It is heartening to know there are compassionate selfless individuals who will reach in their pockets and give to others for no other reason than their compassion for their fellow man – actually a great reason.
Bonnie and Charles stopped by an hour ago. While we chatted Bonnie, who claims she is not multi-tasking, knitted away while we talked for a couple of hours. I was amazed that she had already complete four lovely knitted hats for Project Warm hands (and heads in this case). I had to get a photo of her had handy work sitting on our deck as they were preparing to leave.
One of the things that came up in conversation as Bonnie’s hands moved clicking plastic needles, rapidly turning colored yarn into lovely hats was a report made to me yesterday; it might put more perspective on the lives here in the Hood.
I have written a number of times that quite a few bread winners here in the Hood work for a large bottling distributor in Coatepec. I am guessing that other than a Nestle factory, the bottling distributor is the largest operation in Coatepec and Xico.
Yesterday being World Poverty Day there was great irony in the fact that the bottling distributor’s management gathers dock workers in lots of about six to notify them that they were going to be let go. They could return in a week’s time and start as new employees if they so desired – huh?
The loading dock hombres do back breaking work. Rain or shine in three shifts totally 24 hours a day they load up palettes of bottled sugar water (various colas) on to large delivery trucks. This backbreaking work goes something like this as far as I can tell: you work outside rain or shine, night and day, loading trucks. Each shift you work will be eight hours unless they want you to work more with every other Sunday off. Essentially a 28 day work month for $5000 pesos per month. At today’s exchange rate that is $381.00 US dollars for back breaking work with two days off a month.
The workers must be willing to work odd shifts – one week they start at 8 Am, the next they might start at 2 PM or 10:30 PM working until 5 in the morning. There is no consistency to the scheduling and often the every other Sunday off must be worked.
They have some socialized medicine benefit, and they get a month’s pay for each year of service. There are no sick days and no paid vacation. Occasionally they close the plant for a week with no notice and just have the guys out of work. Often they call junta’s (meetings) where the employees must come into work – without pay. There has been no raises in three years while the cost of living has skyrocketed. And on and on – you get the idea. These jobs are some of the best available for the unskilled or those without the acumen to perhaps drive a bus load of people or deliver Bimbo bread to tiendes.
Mexican law states that at the end of employment the employer must pay one month’s salary for each year of service. One friend has worked at the bottling company for four years entitling him to $5000 pesos for each year or about 20,000 pesos. Yesterday he was informed they were only going to pay severance of 5000 pesos (a month’s pay for severance with a mandatory week off). When they return as new employees they will only have jobs for six months. Then they will be let go again to be rehired in a week. In this way the company can avoid the laws designed to benefit employees with time served. Let me repeat these are “good” coveted jobs for unskilled laborers.
One hombre looked at me with sad eyes. He said he lay awake at night; he spun his index finger at the side of his head to indicate the wheels go around in his head with concerns about how to feed his family. He went on to say if he were solito (by himself) this would be OK but he has two young children and a wife at home raising his children, that he has to feed, and clothe and see that they have just the basic things to live on. Now this…
Man I am telling you looking into to that guy’s eyes nearly brought me to tears. In the years I have known him I have watched his struggle and now this.
He smiled and went on to say they would be OK, God willing.
I asked if there was some way to gather collectively and protest these shenanigans, but because there are plenty of men out there waiting in the wings for such jobs, they won’t protest; they need the jobs at nearly all cost.
Today effort to help these people is as strong as it ever has been for us. Anita and I thank you with all our hearts for your help. I believe that the very purpose of our life is to seek happiness. Now that I think about it, pensive moments as described above withstanding, these are some of the happiest people I have known. Hmmm – must be the real art of happiness. Stay Tuned!
This is appropriate for mi esposa – She will ride solo.
Our morning was devoted to doing things. I wanted to check the water level in the camper battery – sounds easy enough – NOT! They provide a small space that in this case is about 5 and one-half feet off the ground. I’m 6’1” so by the time you get to the top of the battery in that small space I am on tip toes to access and view water levels in those six dark little chambers.
Invariably the battery needs water, because generally I don’t check it enough, because of what I am telling you. To add water I must wiggle the battery part way out of the little boxed area which usually includes some scrapped knuckles – damn! It gets more tedious but you get the idea.
So today I added wire from the tiny box to the ground where I placed the battery – there I can easily check and fill water. This all reads like an easy enough project.
Trying my hardest to get all my tools and junk here in Mexico, try as I might, doing these minor jobs is always more difficult than one would project. It is a task finding all the tools, electrical tape, bolts, etc. I has the needed things in the camper drawers, the stuffing boxes on the outside of the camper, in the new bodega which is filling rapidly, the truck, both rooms in the lower part of the Casita and of course in my office on the next level up. I chose the mission and dutifully went through the paces. I did get it done while Anita did laundry and got ready for her trip to Xalapa with Lidia.
Charles and Bonnie dropped by, they were gently prodded for a ride to Xalapa for the girls. I seized the moment to ride solo on the ScootAzul into Xico and up to Ranch del Cielo. We haven’t been there since we got back to Mexico. I thought I would check in on the plaice, turn the refrigerator on and see what, if anything, we might need to bring up on our first trip – oh and I wanted to see how the scooter would do going up that mule trail; off I went.
I stopped down at the Pemex gas station to fuel up and check tire air pressure. On advice of a lot of more experienced Fly Scooter (Chinese light weight centrifugal clutch scooters) riders, I filled up with Magna rather than the premium grade; the advice was good I notice no difference in operation.
The good news is I got 83 mile to the gallon on my first tank of gas – wow! The tire pressure was quite low I filled both to about 32 pounds. Well to say the ride was stiffer is putting it mildly, on smooth roads this is no problem and in fact we should get better gas mileage. But good roads are hard to come by around these parts.
Xico has a charming cobblestone thing going for it on almost all the roads. In short order I learned that driving along the thin smooth rain channels was more pleasant, but a bit trying staying in the groove. The good news is we (the scooter and I) made it up to our Rancho.
The bad news is never again. The ride was simply too taxing on the little scooter. I guesstimated that perhaps after ten trips up and back the scooter would be done for – and I just made the first installment.
So while I used this as part of the justification for buying a scooter (I am always trying to justify my purchases – is that weird?), I have to leave that rational behind to save the life of the scooter and my kidneys.
Checking in on the casa was a bit of a shock. The yard is a jungle. I say that with no exaggeration – we no longer have a lawn, the yard has assumed an entire ‘back to nature’ quality. We left money with a gardener – but obviously something was lost in translation. Remind me to do something else the next time we leave for 2 months – that could turn into four.
The good news on Casa del Cielo is the inside of the house was virtually as we left it. I credit Anita for covering things with sheets and basically putting the house in moth balls to where we will get back to living on the inside in nothing flat. Remove some sheets; a little shop vac-uuming, reconnect the Hughes Internet system and we are good to go – but the yard – ugh!
I feel like we will be starting from scratch – but I am sure when I get the 3 foot high growth parsed down some I will recognize that there once were people living there.
I have no idea why this is so radically different from the last time we left the place for just about the same length of time – probably a combination of more rain and less gardener. Don’t fear – we will resuscitate the Rancho and develop a better plan for next time.
The first time we left the Casita property in the control of one family, when we came back we almost went and got a motel room until we could restore it for the living – but since then with the help of Lidia, Vicente, Javier and Estaban we come back to the Casita pretty much as we left it. This time it was even better as Vicente had taken it upon himself to make modifications in the bodega and outside – we were pleasantly surprised.
Rancho del Cielo is more difficult to maintain because of the trek to get up that 2 mile hill and the lack of people around there. We will figure it out. As soon as I do I will report back – so Stay Tuned!
If you have tried them or know other places to get them – let me know.
A suitable Avatar for me and the ScootAzul.
