Hey Water, Your Mom Is Ugly!

It's not like we didn't know the rainy season was upon us. Just yesterday I told Hernan that we needed to do a few things to prepare for the next big storm. We needed to reseal the roof over the kitchen, move things in from the living room (which is essentially out of doors), move the couches away from the canvas "walls", figure out a way to prevent water from coming in through the somewhat open window in the bedroom... I've said it before, our house isn't really sealed off from outside so much. We've got cracks and holes and big gaping spaces everywhere. It's why my house fills with dust every day during the dry season and why last night at about 2:00 it became a swimming pool.

The storm was really quite fantastic. There was thunder and lightening and it was raining so hard it felt like a water siege, like someone had done something to really piss water off and now water was getting its revenge. The high winds made me think one of the tiles from the roof was bound to blow off and smack me upside the head, and the overall mood was enhanced by the light show going on across the street, where a transformer was shooting off sparks like one of the toros they have in the plaza during the festivities.

Of course, we didn't do those things on the list. Hernan got "distracted" by some buddies, and I didn't think I should have to do all the work if he wasn't going to. So, I guess I'm saying we kind of deserved what we got.

At about two in the morning I woke up to the sound of torrential rain and thought, "What a lovely sound". A few moments later I thought, "Shit! My laptop!" and leaped out of bed and ran into the living room, dragging Hernan with me.

The casualties were numerous: some books, papers, the clean laundry, a chocolate bar, blankets, shoes. Pretty much every last thing in the living room was soaked. My laptop, though, I rescued just in time and is safe and dry.

The kitchen, too, was hit. One of the walls leaks. The bedroom was almost as bad as the living room because of our new window that doesn't really close all the way. It was a scramble of moving things and throwing towels around and doing whatever we could think of to minimize the soakage.

And the critters were trying to escape the storm, too. There were crickets on the walls, a cockroach in our bed (sob!) and a scorpion over the door.

This morning we found everything covered in mud, and puddles all over the floor. We had about three inches of mud in front of the house.

I appreciate that we get an especially sunny day today. I have all of our stuff hung out on the laundry lines drying.

But the rain cleans up the air and makes the mountain green again, and this morning we had a marching band pass in front of our house, so you know it's a good day.

A Fart Joke

As related to me by my brother-in-law, except in English:
(This is probably funnier if you know that all those words that aren't English are cities in Mexico.)


How do little girls fart?
Tepic.

How do grown women fart?
Torreon!

How do old grandmothers fart?
Oaxaca!!



That's all I've got for today, folks.

The Hell Out Of Dodge

We're moving. We're going to try living in Sayulita, Nayarit for a month. We've rented a little tiny studio-style casita with a palapa (thatched) roof. If we find work, we'll stay. If not... I don't know what we'll do. We move July 1st.

My hopes are high. Friends. Jobs. Community. No more gang bangers pulling guns on my husband.

I'm excited that when we walk around Sayulita no one stares at us. No one pays us any attention. Actually, they're kind of rude, and I prefer that to nosy san juanecos who stare at me every time I step outside my house.

We'll have the beach! Even if we're too poor to afford a coffee or a meal in a restaurant, we can still have somewhere to go. We can sit in the sand and watch the waves, or the surfers, or the sunset. This is way more than there is to do in San Juan. Stupid San Juan.

Mango season. Four kilos for 20 pesos! This is helping my mango-a-day commitment.

Not living with the in-laws. While I think I'm going to miss some of my in-laws quite a lot, I am excited to finally have our own place again. I look forward to being able to operate on my own schedule (well, Hanix's, really) instead of everyone else's. Here, for example, no one eats lunch until the men come home from work (or drinking) and decide they're ready. This could be any time between 1:00 and 4:00. I think that's shitty, because I don't like being kept from my food, and I look forward to eating meals whenever I want. (Of course, without mother-in-law around I'll probably be eating a lot more cereal and a lot less of her good cooking. But we'll see. Maybe I'll surprise us.)

Of course, I'm scared about having no help whatsoever, since I don't know anyone there. Even though I'm with Hanix almost all the time, I do occasionally get a few minutes break here or there from a relative.

I'm scared we'll find no work and won't be able to afford the higher prices.

I'm scared Hernan or Hanix won't handle the heat or the humidity, and Hernan will decide to move back to San Juan.

After almost two years of having no friends, I'm scared that maybe I'm actually some kind of antisocial freak who can't connect with anyone, and I'll find myself in a bush, stalking some nice-looking couple with a toddler. They'll discover me and make a scene, and it will ruin all my chances of ever having friends again. Ever. I'll die soon thereafter from a loneliness explosion.

What I REALLY hope happens is that Hernan and I will both make friends, and some of those friends will even enjoy mixed interactions, you know, men AND women, hanging out TOGETHER. And maybe a few of them will even be atheists like us. And maybe a few of them will play board games. And maybe a few of them will have kids too, and Hanix can have play dates, and we'll swap child care sometimes. And maybe we'll get really great jobs. And maybe I'll win the lottery and take up surfing. And I'll become bff with dolphins and sea turtles. And when we walk to the plaza everyone will break out in song and dance and small children will throw ribbons and flowers in the air, and somehow everyone's wearing matching sequined outfits and headbands and is singing on key and the birds are singing and the street dogs play piccolos and a kindly gentleman offers us lemonade and the sun smiles at us all.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Mastitis and Mexican Health Care

One thing that's great about Mexico is that if all of a sudden you begin to die rapidly, you're not (always) forced to choose between dying and selling off an organ to pay for medical care.

About a week ago, Hanix bit me while nursing, little bastard. Bit me like he thought my nipple was a chicken nugget. Made me bleed. There is still a little open wound bite mark. And now suddenly nursing has become excruciatingly painful. It hurts so much my feet start to kick and I get dizzy and start whisper-yelling "Ow, ow, ow!" and all I want to do is hide from him so he won't try to nurse. And I got really tired and was feeling sick, and pretty much had given up on living.

Going cold turkey (cold chicken nugget?) on nursing, though, would not only be awful on my baby, but would mean a whole lot of pain for me, too. I'd also probably run a fever and would risk developing an infection, so says the doctor. I also find nursing convenient, and I'm happy knowing I'm providing my son with top o' the line nutrition. Plus, it's five billion times cheaper than buying formula. Also, and not least important, to suddenly stop nursing him would almost certainly ruin our trip to the beach that commences tomorrow.

So I went to Ajijic to find a doctor at one of the clinics there.

Now, are you ready for what's really cool? The doctors take walk-ins. Yeah. You just show up and ask if the doctor is there. I sensibly waited until after the Mexico-South Africa match this morning. I took a seat, waited a few minutes, and got seen right then. I didn't have to fill out seven pages of medical history. I didn't have to provide proof of insurance (I don't have any). I didn't have to promise to sell my liver to pay for the treatment. Nothing. Easy.

So the doctor saw me. I flashed him my boob. He looked at it. Told me I would die if I didn't get it treated (sort of) and then had the nurse come in and shoot me in the butt muscle with some kind of anti-inflammatory something or other injection. And that was that.

He also was SHOCKED to discover that I'd never given my baby formula, and he sent me home with a free sample to give him. (It looked like he had just had a visit from the formula reps, as his desk was piled high with pricey little canisters to hook families on. I'm not supposed to nurse him for the next 24 hours, though, and the canister was free, so it looks like my baby will finally experience what all his cousins have been drinking.

At first the doctor said I'd have to go five days without nursing. I told him I didn't like that idea, for the reasons stated above, and he told me if I feel better tomorrow I can go back to nursing.

Anyway, besides my sore butt muscle, I'm feeling better already. The whole visit only cost 104 pesos, about $8.00. Sometimes Mexico really pulls through. I can't imagine this happening in the States.

Now to live through the next 24 hours without nursing... I guess I should find that hiding spot now.

Worse Than Full House

Saturday, my husband's pregnant teenage cousin showed up at our house. This was a shock to all of us. As far as we all knew she was in California, living with her parents, and, uh, not pregnant. Guess what, she needs a place to stay.

I think a roll call is in order.

We've got me. (Hi, how ya doing?)
We've got my hubs.
We've got baby bubs.
Then there's mom-in-law,
Pa-in-Law,
Teenage bro-in-law, too.
96 year old Grandma (who pooped on a plate this morning. Thank you.)
And now preggers Cousin + fetus

AND our part-time residents,
Bro-in-law who has breakfast and lunch here six days a week,
His baby daughter, who's here about sixty hours a week,
Eight-year-old nephew, who's here during the mornings and sometimes at night, too,
and sometimes we get sister-in-law or her boyfriend or the other sister-in-law.

And there are usually some cousins around, especially the weekends.

Nuclear family, we are not. And I guarantee we don't have group hugs at the end of every episode day.

I'm so glad I have my own casita upstairs for the three of us. People still wander up all the time (I've got to remember to keep my pants on), but it's still nice having my own shower.

We'll see what happens with New Cuz. I guess I've got a lot to say, but I'm holding my tongue for now.

Gorilla Caregiver!

Hire me hire me hire me hire me!

GORILLA Caregiver / Research Assistant


!

A Mango A Day...

Eleven months out of the year we are avocado wealthy. My father-in-law brings them home by the bag-full from the various trees on the ranch where he farms. And those are just the ones he picks up off the ground. Occasionally Hernan will go out there and climb up in the trees to bring home a whole box of them. It's almost always season for one variety or another, and we nearly always have avocados on hand for every meal.

This time of year is the one exception. For about a month we don't have any. If we get desperate we could always buy some from a shop, but we're too spoiled most of the year to do that. So we take an avo break.

To make up for this lack, I've decided that the month of June will be dedicated to a different fruit. Mangoes, you see, are in season.

I've resolved to eat mango every day for the month of June. It's my duty, as I see it.

Day four, so far so good.

Living in San Juan isn't all bad, I guess.

We Gotta Get Out Of This Place

It's that time, folks! Who wants to play the Where To Next Game? Will it be San Francisco? Berkeley? Portland? Sayulita? Vancouver? Naha? You want to throw out a suggestion? Lay it on me! Know of a good place to live in Mexico? Have a work hook up for me someplace? Because San Juan Donkey Balls Cosalá is a pit of misery and I'm through.

Last night a group of men in a vehicle pulled a gun on my husband. They weren't trying to rob him, they don't know him, as far as we can figure it was a bunch of guys just looking for some Wednesday night fun. He and his buddy jumped off the malecon into Lake Chapala and fled. Who knows if the little gang bangers would have pulled the trigger, but I'm glad no one found out.

My husband has been in his share of fist fights, but he never looks for trouble. I can say that here in town he's friends with everyone and their mom, and I mean it. He really is friends with their moms. And their dads. And their cousins. And their little brothers. He's not the kind of guy that stirs up trouble. But here in San Juan he's been attacked more than once from behind. It's never been from anyone he had any beef with. It's just stupid San Juanecos who have no prospects in life except to grow up to be the biggest asshole on their block. We've been hollered at and followed and he's been attacked, even when he's been with me. In fact, they use me to try to get him to fight them. If they insult me while we're walking, they hope he'll get mad enough to engage them in a fight. When that doesn't work, they just come up from behind and try to hit him in the head.

Hernan seems sure the assholes last night aren't from here, though. He says he doesn't think they're from El Chante or Ajijic, either. Maybe Jocotepec. He doesn't know. He just knows they pulled up, yelled some obscenities and aimed the gun at him.

We're not telling his family because his mother might die of worry, and his older brother might try to get involved. He is going to have a talk with his teenage brother about staying safe, though. We think they were probably looking for just anyone, and we're not in any danger of these guys stalking us or anything. But shit.

This last week I was already gearing up to make a move. I've been thinking of going back to the Bay Area to look for work. I'm too lonely down here. I'm tired of just killing time. Now I'm wondering if I should pick someplace else so I can drag Hernan with me. We both hate this town.

Now, I do of course realize that there are hoodlums with guns everywhere. I do think that in other places we've lived, though, we could usually avoid violence by minding our own business. In San Juan, that doesn't seem to be true.

I don't know what comes next. I do know I'm ready to move on. I hate this town.

Shark Wrestling

Sometimes when you buy a "brand new" battery, it's actually an old crappy piece of crappity crap, that crappily dies all the time because it's crap. This applies to car batteries as well.

In other news, I've finally gone completely mad. I'm storing the base of my blender in the freezer, just to keep the roaches from taking up residence there a third time. There's no room in the fridge, in case you are wondering. And I open all the kitchen cupboard doors at night in a wretched attempt to make the shelves less desirable as living space. I know. I should really get over the cockroaches, but last night I saw a cockroach the size of a nightstand crawl into the house from outdoors through a crack in the wall (one of many) and that may have been what did me in.

This leads me to update number three. If you reread the last paragraph, you may notice that I casually mentioned kitchen cupboards. What's this? Who's got kitchen cupboards now? Me. That's who. They're kind of not finished, in that they don't have handles and some of the shelves still lack doors. And one of the doors kind of refuses to open. BUT I at least have somewhere to put dishes and food now. The book shelf I'd been using was no longer working out so well, now that my baby can reach the three bottom shelves and delights in (1) climbing, and (2) tossing.

That's really all I have to say for myself. I might take pictures of my cupboards just to prove to you how much I've just moved up in the world. But then again, I might not. I guess I'll liven up this boring post my mentioning that I'm training for a shark wrestling competition. Cool, no?