Monday, December 10, 2012
I am back in Melaque.
After 12 hours of sleep, it was good to be walking the streets of my little village again. Where birdsong -- and the occasional gas truck -- acts as my alarm clock.
I followed the weather here on the internet while I was gone. The worst part of summer seemed to linger through all of November. Giving some of the earlier visitors from The Great Frozen North a taste of what we face in the hottest season.
But last night night was cool enough for a sheet over me in bed. And this morning was made for walking.
The day had me in a great mood.
Then I happened across a couple of scowling men. From their pallor, I assumed they were recently-arrived northern tourists. My Chamber of Commerce gene kicked in. I would lead them to a happier place.
I followed their gaze. Two streets leading to the beach had been excavated. Probably awaiting new pavers.
"Interesting," said I. "How long has this project been going on?"
The Scowler-in-Chief looked at me as if I had just broken up their Rotary meeting.
"Too long. What is wrong with these people? Why do they wait until people are here to start tearing things up?"
I ignored the venom in his "these people" comment.
"Actually, people are here all year long. Tourists come every season."
The S-in-C gave me the same irritated look, as he clipped out: "People with dollars. The people who keep this place running." Completely oblivious to the three young Mexican workers standing nearby who were simply shaking their heads.
I have written on this attitude before (for whom the taco bell tolls and breaking spring). The belief that Mexico is a Disneyland that operates several months in the winter solely for the benefit of people north of the Rio Bravo. Where only the best services can be expected at criminally-low prices.
My mood was too good to spread the pearls of cheer in that particular wallow. So, I wandered off to buy some pesos -- for time on my mobile telephone and to pre-pay internet time for my next journey north.
It is good to be back in a world where the potential for stress is legion -- and where so little energy needs to be spent to keep it at bay.
Mexico may not be home. But it is certainly a place where I feel free to enjoy life in the manner it is served to me.
Even when my neighbors seem to do their best to trap the unwary tourist. The hole is man-sized. Where the sidewalk ends. The broken chair is a warning that a distracted pedestrian could have similar legs.