FEBRUARY 20, 2015
Canadians, Couples, and Captain Don’s!
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| Mine is the open door downstairs |
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| My street - Paraguay |
After shopping, I decided to high tail it over to Captain Don’s, two blocks away. This is a local hangout for Americans and Canadians. The owner is my neighbor, Don, who unfortunately lost both his wife and his left leg in the last three years. The latter from cancer, the former form hospital staff infection in the United States.
Anyway, I was sitting with Darrell whose wife left today for Denver, Colorado to do taxes as an accountant. She will return on April 16, so he is “solo” for awhile. We chatted awhile when in walked a young mother of thirty, Alejandra, with a daughter, Selene, 9, and a son, Ricardo, 7, as well as a backpack carrying the ashes of her deceased son, Jared, 3. She had been living in Guadalajara for two years, where she met a fellow who brought her and her children here for a vacation, as well as an opportunity for to sprinkle the ashes of her child into the sea.
The father of her three children is allegedly in jail for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stupidly (admittedly) she hooked up with a guy with enough money to make her “sprinkling” dream come true. This morning, he slapped her and punched her. Moments later, after he whacked her precious son, she ran away with nothing but her backpack full of ashes, and a few pieces of clothing for each of them. The sacred beach where she had wanted let her deceased baby fly, is now toxic to her soul.
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| Darrell, Alejandra, Selene, Ricardo, and I |
I spoke to nine-year-old, obviously very bright, Selene on the side, and dug for the truth. In the end, Darrell and I believed their story. They needed a little more than three thousand pesos (about $200) to transport them by bus back to Mexicali. I bought them dinner, for about twenty bucks, and Darrell agreed to pay for their bus tickets to Mexicali, IF I would accompany them to the bus terminal. I walked over to the OXXO (7-11 equivalent) where tickets can be bought, and found out there is no availability until 7:30PM tomorrow.
Darrell generously offered to take them all home, let them shower, watch TV, and eat some more, and we all agreed to meet back at Captain Don’s at 5PM tomorrow, from whence I planned to accompany the trio to the bus terminal and bid them adios. Even if they are scamming us, we will have done our best to help what we believe to be honest people in a crappy situation. I did take photos of their “certification” papers (just in case).
We enlisted the translation aid of one of the servers, Gloria, and she too believed the story, but warned us that scams do indeed abound. However, if the three get on to the bus, there is no way they can return the ticket for cash. So tomorrow will tell. I read a text from Alejandra’s mother, saying, “Please find a way to come here. You will experience life with no worries. My house is paid for and I have plenty of beds and food. I also have a job for you where I work with the telephone company, and your “tia” (aunt) can take the children to school and bring them home each day.
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| Darrell bonding with the children |
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| A blowfish captivated the 2 young ones |
Darrell did indeed give them food, shelter, showers, clothes laundering, and a wonderful day at the beach.
Trenie agreed to escort this wayward bunch to the bus station with me, so after feeding them tacos on the street, we did so. We all cried. Selene had a handful of change, and, like any child, rich or poor, decided to drop a coin into the massage chair at the bus terminal. It was priceless to see these siblings giggle as they enjoyed the titillating rollers of this strange mechanism.
Tears, fears, and cheers - they were off. Trenie and I bussed it back to town, hoping they would arrive to Tepic safely for a thirty-minute layover, (nowhere near as exotic as Anthony Bourdain’s), then on to Mexicali, for a total of about twenty four hours to home.
Alejandra promised to text me both from Tepic and Mexicali, but I never heard from her. I pray they arrived safely.
It’s times like this, I count my blessings.
As if that weren’t enough, Trenie and I were in for the timeshare presentation of our lives. Desperate for any cash we could get, we went as a “couple” and endured, not the “promised” ninety minutes of high pressure sales, but FOUR hours, in addition to an hour back and forth to our destination.
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| Me negotiating |
After an absolutely amazing gourmet buffet (in which we liberally gorged for about an hour), a grueling sweaty walking tour of Disney-esque property, and another two hours of sales rigamarole, we escaped with two bottles of yummy flavored tequilas (coffee and almond), cash for a taxi back, 90% of which we pocketed, as we opted to share a cab (after seeing an “Alligator Crossing” sign) with another “couple,” and about $340 (US) apiece. As a former actress, and timeshare connoisseur, I fared well. Trenie? Not so much.
“Never again,” she pouted. “No matter how much I love you.” We laughed and agreed that such “fun,” as well as an honest attempt at a reasonable buyout of my current timeshare ownerships, would from henceforth, be a “sola” act by me. Without my “partner.”
We shared a taxi into town with a lovely Minnesota couple, who, like us, decided to walk to the main road for a bus, only to find out that on Sundays, buses weren’t so frequent, and, quite frankly, we could be wanting in the blazing sun for an hour! We quickly bonded with the “newbie” couple. About 80% of the people ”gringos” meet here are either from Canada (mostly Winnipeg), or Minnesota. As we hailed a taxi, and an elderly driver stopped for us, another , much younger driver, passed by shaking his finger at us as if to say, “No! Don’t trust him!”
After some discussion with a “trabajador” (worker) a few yards away, we decided to indulge the old guy and hop aboard - for a pittance of what it would’ve cost us at the immediate entrance of the resort. I immediately became the completely illl-equipped interpreter. Halfway to El Centro, the blinking lights pulled us over.
“He ran a blinking yellow light,” said the Minnesotoan male in the front seat, as the elderly driver disembarked to go greet the “policia.” I was, as I am in Santa Barbara, unnerved, as there are so many other “crimes” worth unravelling than a random “gringo transporter” running a yellow!
Nonetheless, our guy got out of the car and began to yell at the police! Nonplussed, i told the Minnesota-ans and Trenie that we needed to be ready to hop out and catch a bus. I warned them that such behavior could likely get the old guy “cuffed.”
But “cuffed” he was not, as he returned cursing, spitting, and shaking his head. I kept telling him in Spanish that I was sorry this happened, but the female of the couple said, “He knows the rules, doesn’t he?”
“You must’ve been a teacher,” said Trenie. And guess what?! She was! So there, in the back seat of an irate, rule-defying old Mexican’s taxi, sat three former school teachers, agreeing that the old fart was a hothead, and should’ve known better!
The couple got off with Trenie and me at Our Lady of Guadalupe, and we tipped the poor stubborn dude about a buck. (USUALLY, THERE IS NO TIPPING TO TAXI DRIVERS HERE, BUT IT HELPS - IF YOU GET THEIR NUMBER FOR FUTURE RIDES).
We gave the couple a quick overview of the lay of the land, and set them free to explore El Centro, the Romantic Zone,, the Malecon, and the amazing restaurants of Los Altas and Conchas Chinas. We pointed out Our Lady of Guadalupe Church (NOT a Cathedral as many believe) perched like a hawk overlooking the town square where locals gather on Sunday evenings to dance, flirt, eat, and watch a movie!
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| The church buildings is topped with an elaborate crown, "allegedly designed to resemble a tiara worn by one of Emperor Maximilian's mistresses" |
We, on the other hand, were headed to the Rio Cuale, under the bridge, to catch some shade, and perhaps make some shady deals on change purses and fans. (It’s hot!)
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| Trenie shopping on the Rio Cuale! |
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| The dripping Banyan - read about this intriguing epiphyte. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Banyan |
The mercado (market) along the River Cuale is cool and charming, but more expensive for the usual trinkets.
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| "Shaky" tourists rock and sway! |
We strolled through the shade of Banyan trees, gave directions to... ...the“suspension bridge” to an elderly couple who could hardly walk (I don’t trust the suspension bridge),
and stopped at El Huarachon to share a “Haurache,” the Mexican flatbread pizza loaded with carne asada, cheese, and salsa of roasted tomatoes and ancho chiles for 25 pesos ($1.72) but the drinks were $7 apiece!
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| Great for cheap yummy food - drinks, not so much |
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| I pass by Martin at Huarachon daily! |
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| A Carne Asada Haurache (Mexican pizza) |
ADVICE: Drink beer or water, cuz that’s where they getcha! (except for dollar Margarita’s at Cheeky Monkey, Sea Monkey, and Oceana). But man, was this Huarache delicious and filling!
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Bag Ladies sell homemade purses! |
We leisurely strolled through the weekly Farmer’s Market in the Old Town Square a block from the Blue Shrimp Restaurant, where prices are high (popular Gringo gathering), and everything has to be made from local ingredients.
Meeting up with another gal, Rose, with whom Trenie had been conversing online for eight months, under a palapa on the beach, we sampled yummy candied pecans, dried mangos and kiwis, and a few other goodies. Trenie and Rose each bought quite a bit, so they guy gave us all a free bag of our choice. I chose the pecans and gobbled them up before you could say “deliciosos dulces!” (yummy candy).
The array of choices on the candy cart, reminded me me of a dream I had many years ago of brilliantly-colored cotton balls along Highway 99 in Bakersfield, leading to a luminescent rainbow over the Grapevine! As i enjoy my photographic glimpses of Mexico, one word repeatedly and consistently comes to mind - colorful. Bright, deep, intense, and lovely - the colors make me feel alive!
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