I have never been very picky about where I live. Buying a McMansion in a west coast suburb was never one of my dreams.
In my better moments, I could easily live in a monastic cell.
And then there are moments like Thursday.
When I visited Melaque last year, I wandered around to get a feel for the various neighborhoods. The west end of the beach offered the best swimming. Because of that fact, tourists tend to congregate there. Along with the mélange of architectural styles that tourists expect at the beach.
But I did not expect to see the house pictured above in a residential area. Several appellations came to mind: the kindest was 1950s bank. Dostoevsky dacha on the Don was not far behind.
On Thursday the estate agent took me to a house she thought would be perfect for me. It was, of course, the "bank" that had provided me with moments of amusement during the past year.
I am no longer laughing. The place is a bit austere inside (in a luxurious Hollywood manner), but its three bedrooms may work out fine for me. There is a small garden for Jiggs. And the swimming beach and good restaurants are extremely convenient.
The rent is more than I want to pay. But it is the high season and I need the place for only five months.
The only thing that needs work is the kitchen. It effectively does not have one -- almost as if the architect forgot about it, and then decided to stuff it into a hallway.
I am a bit leery at renting a house with a promise that modifications will be done n the future. But it could be another opportunity for an adventure in Mexico.
There is something about the place.
If Jed or Granny or Elly May wander in looking for Miss Hathaway or Mr. Drysdale, I am going to feel right at home.
In my better moments, I could easily live in a monastic cell.
And then there are moments like Thursday.
When I visited Melaque last year, I wandered around to get a feel for the various neighborhoods. The west end of the beach offered the best swimming. Because of that fact, tourists tend to congregate there. Along with the mélange of architectural styles that tourists expect at the beach.
But I did not expect to see the house pictured above in a residential area. Several appellations came to mind: the kindest was 1950s bank. Dostoevsky dacha on the Don was not far behind.
On Thursday the estate agent took me to a house she thought would be perfect for me. It was, of course, the "bank" that had provided me with moments of amusement during the past year.
I am no longer laughing. The place is a bit austere inside (in a luxurious Hollywood manner), but its three bedrooms may work out fine for me. There is a small garden for Jiggs. And the swimming beach and good restaurants are extremely convenient.
The rent is more than I want to pay. But it is the high season and I need the place for only five months.
The only thing that needs work is the kitchen. It effectively does not have one -- almost as if the architect forgot about it, and then decided to stuff it into a hallway.
I am a bit leery at renting a house with a promise that modifications will be done n the future. But it could be another opportunity for an adventure in Mexico.
There is something about the place.
If Jed or Granny or Elly May wander in looking for Miss Hathaway or Mr. Drysdale, I am going to feel right at home.
