The Countdown

This Friday afternoon, Nikki and I will board a sky ship and launch towards San Diego; after nearly a year for me, and the first return trip for her since landing in Yelapa two years ago. My internal planning mechanism has already adopted the Countdown Mode. I cannot help but call up the images associated with the Woody Allen movie as technicians are seated at a master console overseeing all brain functions. As I recall they were also planning a launch, but alas I digress.

If you are a frequent visitor to my blog, you read repeatedly about my favorite restaurant, Shambhala, operated by three of my favorite people; Ray, Violeta and Alexa Vasquez. It is no surprise to me that the finest food in all of Yelapa is produced by three of the finest people. I am fortunate to consider myself a part of their family. As an aside, they will cease operations at the Shambhala site around the end of this month and re-open at their new location in the central village under the name of Ray’s Place. My best wishes and future patronage will travel with them.

Today is Sunday, right? And what happens on Sunday, class? The children look up adoringly and respond in angelic dulcetones, “birria.” Well done, class! So marching around my countdown clock, today I consumed my last Sunday birria for perhaps the next two months. It is a thought which invites discomfort. Good byes were issued to those Yelapans I only see at birria. A twinge of sadness accompanied me down the stairs as I returned to Casa Azul.

Our village remains quiet over the next two months. Schools throughout Mexico begin Monday. The last panga full of visiting Mexican nationals will depart for Puerto Vallarta this afternoon. Tomorrow morning will re-usher the ritual of the early rising of the teacher and his wife, who live below me (they have yet to figure out how to move chairs quietly); the gaiety of conversations which float around the passing elementary students; and the parents of pre-schoolers parked down the path. New shoes and uniforms will be in evidence. All backpacks will bear immense doses of the hopes and aspirations of parents, grandparents and fellow villagers. It is an event of renewal.

Although I have yet to experience the month of September here, my Yelapa brother, Fernando, assures me that as the heavy rains arrive, so also arrive the heavy tuna. Every fishing boat, panga, boogie board or stray piece of floating lumber will have a kid in it/on top of it tossing a handline. Refrigerators and freezers will be filled. Beyond that, the excess will be shipped off and sold in Puerto Vallarta. It will present the only money making opportunity until the annual wave of tourism returns in mid-November. Life in paradise is difficult.

My countdown will plod its course through the ensuing four days. My last posole tomorrow night, my last trip to the market, my last bag of trash, my last margarita and dinner at Shambhala and Friday morning my last fresh fruit smoothie (pineapple, papaya, mango, granola, honey, yogurt). In English when someone departs we say “good bye.” It’s hard, clipped and final. In Spanish, we choose from “andale pues,” “hasta luego,” “que le vaya bien,” all of which are open-ended. These earnest phrases grant both the well-wisher and the recipient the expectation that they will meet again. As Nikki and I take our last trek through Yelapa on Friday morning, I will hear and respond to all of these, knowing full well that in a few months, indeed, we will meet again.    

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Should you find yourself in Yelapa during my absence and develop an insatiable urge to go kayaking contact Fernando Garcia. Don’t worry, if you don’t know who he is, just stop any local on the path and ask for Fernando. Be forewarned, he may talk you into a trip to the Murietas, a day fishing or lunch at Corrales. If that happens, go for it. You can always catch me on your next trip. Happy paddling

We Wish you Well!

Filtered sunshine settles down upon the bay and beach of Yelapa. The clouds confine a cool breeze wafting through. Neto’s boat, La Guerra, departed well past an hour ago on its thrice daily traverses to Boca de Tomatlan and then onto Puerto Vallarta. Chachalacas commence their clatter and then allow it to fade. Even the flock of chickens across the path roost in the trees a tad longer. It is Sunday.   One audible exception to this collage of tranquility arises from Shambhala. Natural tones of the morning are joined by the furious chopping and dicing of condiments which complement the birria. It is an interesting addition.

The main event of the week was the departure of our beloved doctor, Marcela. She, like other medical school graduates, spent a year in training/practice of general medicine under the supervision of an experienced practitioner. It was Yelapa’s good fortune to have her placed here. I required her medical attention on two occasions. She energized any room she graced similar to a firefly in absolute darkness. The following is a tribute I posted earlier on my FB:

“This morning the skies opened and wept, as the village of Yelapa began to come to life. This would be our first day following the departure of a beautiful dove, a special angel--Marcela Qzd B. She graced our paths and brought healing and sensitivity to our wonderful clinic for a year. In retrospect, it seems like only a week.

Yelapa has been gifted with fabulous visiting doctors. We are honored that Cesar has chosen to stay. No doubt, our newest edition will bring his own style and contribution to us as well. We welcome him with the warmth and sincerity for which Yelapans are known.

We will miss the little girl whose voice forced smiles onto our faces; whose soft touch brought calm to countless frightened children; and whose infectious personality dove straight into our hearts.

Que le vaya bien, Doctora; que le vaya bien.”

If Mattel Toys, Inc. were to ever create a Mexican Barbie, Marcela would be the template. Piercing brown eyes, jet black hair pulled into a tight bun, a heart as big as the universe and all packaged into the most petite of presentations. You could not help but love her. We all did.

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Kayaks, you want’em, I got’em. Just call 322 146 5064. The rent two get a third free special is still running; but not for long. Happy paddling.

Mr. Fix-it

I have owned several homes over the past four decades. During that time, I have acquired the “fix-it” skills of replacing a washer in a dripping faucet, removing and clearing a sink trap, installing a new light switch (including a GFCI) and taping caulking strips around a door molding. Despite numerous editions of How to Do Anything: A-Z delivered as presents by my wife; I have neither displayed the ability nor the desire to self-improve in this regard. This does not bode well in my domestic environment.

Fast forward to our, Diana and mine, relocation to Yelapa two years ago. We rented and improved a brand new, never lived in two bedroom, one bath casita. Our main man in all this activity was Fernando Garcia Garcia. He assisted us in locating the property, whilst we were guests in one of his MiraMar Yelapa rentals, and then supervised the completion of both the bathroom and the kitchen following our return to the States. Five months later, we landed with six plastic tubs, two backpacks, one laptop and a large dog crate occupied by Nikki, our English Shepherd. We awaited the tranquil charm of paradise.

Well, charm must have been away at school because we leapt right into a number of glitches. While cosmetically our place could be featured in Casita Weekly, a few areas demanded attention. The landlord, who lives directly below us, failed to connect the water until two days prior to our arrival. Therefore, Fernando did not have the opportunity to check the charged system. We experienced hot water in the toilet, and the reversal of every hot/cold water fixture in the dwelling. I have to admit that hot water in the commode was not an entirely unpleasant sensation. But, when we considered the repetitive impact on our instant hot water heater, the possibility of cracking a cold porcelain bowl whilst sitting astride it and the early disintegration of the wax donut seal, we became concerned. Three plumbers and thirty days later, the issue was resolved. 

Prior to departing, we instructed Fernando to install thresholds on each entryway and sweeps on each door. This is not SOP for Mexican construction. He was so proud that the requested items were in place that as we arrived he pointed them out. Two nights later we sat motionless as a six inch scorpion scaled a living room wall. A few days following that incident, we noticed an increasing presence of mega-wasps. A room-to-room scan revealed small mud nests affixed to the two steel I-beams supporting the roof. These inch and a half hatchlings awaited our arrival before introducing themselves. Armed with swatters, we spent the ensuing fourteen days swinging and ducking. Wasps are aggressive.  

As I ricochet off the portal which opens to the autumn of my existence, I exude tolerance and acceptance. Diana, on the other hand, remains entrenched in the summer of her life, and exhibits no evidence of either tolerance or acceptance. You can see where this is headed, right? Once again, I made another unilateral decision which exhausted our fiscal resources, relocated our little band to some remote patch of a foreign country, and now we, like Dante, were staring at each other wondering how many levels of inferno we had yet to experience. The tranquil life momentarily escaped us.

In Mexico, tequila is the elixir of life. Its clarity and blendability allow it to be infused discretely into other liquids. These include, but are not limited to: bottled water, coffee, juices of all sorts, soy milk and smoothies. Tranquility has returned to our casita. We peer out our window over the bay for hours. We share our hopes, dreams and await our future together. Even Nikki appears more sedate. I am forever indebted to the Jose Cuervo Corporation.

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I’m still here boys and girls. Remember me, Memo--Sr. Kayak?  Call for rates and availability 322 146 5064 (cell). Happy Paddling.