There are days that deserve double takes.
I was up at 7 this morning to get ready for my drive to Manzanillo. While cutting up a banana on my cereal, I glanced out the window. And saw what you can see at the top of the blog.
A rabbit. A white rabbit.
Spying neither Grace Slick or Alice Liddell in the garden, I assumed my visitor was an escaped pet or someone's dinner. But it did bring back memories.
My brother and I had pet rabbits when we were growing up. They came to an untimely end involving a pack of dogs. The details will do none of us any good.
I assumed this rabbit's owner (or the chef) would come looking for him. So, off I hopped to Manzanillo.
One of the things I enjoy about Mexico is that there are no wrong turns. Only opportunities to enjoy new places.
For some reason, I decided to try a new way of getting to the immigration office. It is good I do not live in a country where timeliness is next to anything. Because I found myself not lost, but heading through neighborhoods that were not designed for the efficient flow of traffic. What should have taken me ten minutes took me forty-five.
When I arrived at the office, all of the parking spaces were filled. Surprisingly, I found a spot along the street.
I had been told that the immigration office moved to new digs -- but they were easy to find. Easy it was. Take the left door instead of the door straight ahead. To keep up the Alice patter.
I signed in around 9:35 and took my number. The waiting room was almost full. So, after only about four minutes, I was surprised to hear my number called. I have no idea how I jumped the rest of the queue. Nor did the people sitting next to me.
Having gone through this drill three times before, I brought copies of almost everything I could imagine. And it worked. Because I didn't need hardly anything.
The only items she was interested in were the completed and signed application form I had filled out online, my photographs for my new card, and a copy of the photograph page in my passport.
She asked if I still lived at the same address. When I answered "yes," she said I did not need to give her a copy of my telephone bill. Nor did she need any financial information. The whole transaction took me about as much time as it took to type it up for you.
She then sent me off to the Navy Bank to pay my application fee: $1451(Mx). In the past, this step has been the most problematic. Whenever the swabbies are paid, the place is flooded.
Not today. There was one man in front of me. The clerk handled his request quickly and then took my money and paperwork. In just a couple of minutes I walked back to the office to hand in my receipt.
The very helpful woman (I cannot now recall her name) gave me a letter as a temporary FM3 (because she kept my card for updating). She originally told me to return in late April for my new card. I had thought about this ahead of time, and gave her a copy of my airline itinerary -- informing her I would be leaving on 11 April. She kindly changed my return date to 10 April.
I walked out the door, and glanced at my watch. It was 10:18. The whole process had taken less than forty-five minutes. As efficient as any government office I have visited.
When I got home, I was surprised to see The White Rabbit had not moved on. Obviously he thought he had found sanctuary. I tried approaching him, but he was as scared as -- well, a rabbit (to remint the cliché).
I went back into the house to get him a leaf of lettuce (trying to recall if Prince Charles -- my rabbit -- liked the stuff). I found him just outside my gate cowering motionless under a shrub. And I could see why.
No more than ten feet away, a nasty-looking feral white and yellow cat was crouched to spring. (The line between coiled rattlesnakes and attack-ready cats is very thin in my mind.) I shooed the cat away from its Watership Down moment.
When I returned to the garden, the rabbit soon followed me in. Not close enough for me to touch. But he allowed me to approach him while he cooled off under a small bougainvillea.
I signed in around 9:35 and took my number. The waiting room was almost full. So, after only about four minutes, I was surprised to hear my number called. I have no idea how I jumped the rest of the queue. Nor did the people sitting next to me.
Having gone through this drill three times before, I brought copies of almost everything I could imagine. And it worked. Because I didn't need hardly anything.
The only items she was interested in were the completed and signed application form I had filled out online, my photographs for my new card, and a copy of the photograph page in my passport.
She asked if I still lived at the same address. When I answered "yes," she said I did not need to give her a copy of my telephone bill. Nor did she need any financial information. The whole transaction took me about as much time as it took to type it up for you.
She then sent me off to the Navy Bank to pay my application fee: $1451(Mx). In the past, this step has been the most problematic. Whenever the swabbies are paid, the place is flooded.
Not today. There was one man in front of me. The clerk handled his request quickly and then took my money and paperwork. In just a couple of minutes I walked back to the office to hand in my receipt.
The very helpful woman (I cannot now recall her name) gave me a letter as a temporary FM3 (because she kept my card for updating). She originally told me to return in late April for my new card. I had thought about this ahead of time, and gave her a copy of my airline itinerary -- informing her I would be leaving on 11 April. She kindly changed my return date to 10 April.
I walked out the door, and glanced at my watch. It was 10:18. The whole process had taken less than forty-five minutes. As efficient as any government office I have visited.
When I got home, I was surprised to see The White Rabbit had not moved on. Obviously he thought he had found sanctuary. I tried approaching him, but he was as scared as -- well, a rabbit (to remint the cliché).
I went back into the house to get him a leaf of lettuce (trying to recall if Prince Charles -- my rabbit -- liked the stuff). I found him just outside my gate cowering motionless under a shrub. And I could see why.
No more than ten feet away, a nasty-looking feral white and yellow cat was crouched to spring. (The line between coiled rattlesnakes and attack-ready cats is very thin in my mind.) I shooed the cat away from its Watership Down moment.
When I returned to the garden, the rabbit soon followed me in. Not close enough for me to touch. But he allowed me to approach him while he cooled off under a small bougainvillea.
Now, I need to decide what I am going to do with the rabbit. Between the cats, dogs, and crocodiles, I suspect his bright white coat is going to make him a prime entrée in God's buffet.
Maybe I will follow my own advice from yesterday. It will all get worked out mañana.
