una vida de perro

I was flipping through some of my photographs from Mexico this evening. What I needed was a little psychic energy boost. I am still a bit under the weather and the weather is getting under my skin. I skipped Jiggs's walk because it is very rainy tonight. But, more than anything, I wanted to feel that certain magic I feel when visiting Mexico.

This picture did the trick. Every morning in La Manzanilla when I went for my morning walk, I would run into the same dog. He seemed to be everywhere: at the beach, at the grocer, at the butcher. On this morning, I was waiting to catch the bus to Barra de Navidad. And there was the dog -- not actually sleeping on a park bench, but enjoying the last few moments of calm before his day swung into high gear.

I almost called him my friend. He was not that. We were merely acquaintances. When I offered him my hand for a pat on his head. he had absolutely no interest. He was a cool dog, who had no need for human companionship. He knew that part of his ancestry most likely went back to the Aztecs where his kin were both revered as being sacred and as being a very healthy meal. He was no longer treated as sacred, and, fortunately, in post-Spanish Mexico, he is no longer seen as the main comida course.

It is not a great life, but he is admired by those who pass through his ancient world.

sail of the decade

I have been watching Bliss of 1st Mate prepare for a sail south from the Sea of Cortez. I started to say part of me wished to be sailing -- but all of me does.

Our usual sailing grounds are in the San Juans in Washington or the Gulf Islands in British Columbia. And neither place would be the best place to sail for me today because I want some heat. Both the rain and the cold are getting to me this evening.

In an attempt to conjure up the impression that each day is just one day away from a pleasant sailing day, I will publish a picture from our group's last sail in June. Transport me south and I am ready to go again.

tax and spend

Woo hoo! My federal income tax refund appeared in my checking account this afternoon. That was exactly 9 days from filing to money in hand -- or in my electronic account. (I am still having trouble thinking of money as nothing more than electrons floating from account to account. But Adam Smith would have loved it -- drawing a clear distinction between money and currency.)

And it is a timely appearance. The final payment is due on my April cruise to Brazil-Morocco-Spain-Portugal. Think of it as me doing my patriotic duty to fight off the evil recession -- while kicking up my heels on my aft balcony. (I can barely wait for a couple of fellow bloggers to take on that opening.)

I will do whatever I can to keep those economy wheels lubricated.

board to tears

I have signed up with several Mexico message boards over the last few months. This is my first experience with this particular medium. I suspect that most blog readers know what message boards are. You find a topic of interest and share information with supposedly like-minded people. Something like a group mail box.

What I have discovered is that each group tends to have its own personality – dependent on the membership. For instance, almost every Mexican town has its message board. These boards have a very chatty, in-group feel to them. You really need to live in the community to understand the exchanges – exchanges that generally have the feel of a Methodist social (even though “naughty” topics -- such as, the best “gentlemen’s” club -- creep in now and then, to everyone’s giggling delight).

Now and then I run into a local group that has a broader scope on what it means to live in Mexico. There are even philosophical discussions on etiquette, anthropology, or history. These boards often have the faint smell of cherry pipe tobacco in a faculty lounge. One of my favorite forums in this category is Veracruz Forum – a witty, amiable group always ready to make a point and share insights.

But, like all communities, there tend to be seedy bars where community members hang out because they probably have trouble fitting into other social environments. I belong to two message boards that fall into this category. They tend to attract people who believe that they know everything, but, in truth, have little experience to share with others.

Let me give an example. A woman wrote a very timid posting indicating that she was moving to Mexico with her handicapped husband, but she had certain fears for her safety. Obviously, what she needed to hear was that the city she was moving to was safer than most American cities and that with the usual cautions that people use in their lives, she would be fine. Instead, she got a series of stories about beatings, robberies, kidnappings, and physical disfigurement – all of which had either happened to the tellers or to their very close personal friends and neighbors. Most of the stories sounded as if the tellers had missed out on a couple days of medication.

I felt sorry for the story tellers. They obviously have control issues in their own lives. But I felt even worse for the woman who had asked the question. She had stumbled into the local dive thinking she was in the reference library.

And I guess that is the point of this posting. My good friend Andee of Life in Chacala was fond of saying: “If you can help someone out – why not?” That is why I enjoy all of the comments posted here. They are meant to be helpful and informative. And when the comments are also witty – even better.

Why not? Indeed.

el gouge-o

This should really be a procrastination posting. I ended up doing very little planning or sorting this weekend. "Very little" translates to none in this part of the world. Yesterday I did not even manage to get out of my pajamas. And even though I made it to church this morning, I was quickly back in bed with my old friend Nyquil. I feel a bit of flu-like virus headed my way.

But I managed to pull myself together to go to dinner in Portland at El Gaucho with my friends, the Millers. They wanted to help me celebrate my birthday -- not one of the Big Ones, but it is a prime number. I realized during the meal how much I enjoy good food at good restaurants (even when the prices approach the level of being shameful). And amusing conversation with erudite friends who truly know how you operate cannot be purchased anywhere.

I raise that point because none of those items appeared on my list of things that interest me in Mexico. There is, of course, good food all over Mexico. But that is not the same thing as a good restaurant. There will be acquaintances, and perhaps maybe one or two friends. But visits from the friends I have accumulated over the years will be very important to me. Thus, easy access to transportation will need to be high on my list. The complexity of traveling to Morelia is bit one example. On the other hand, the Manzanillo airport is a delight.

For now, I am putting my body into the care of the Vicks Corporation.

strike three -- bases loaded

I missed the moon on tonight's walk -- partly because the damp is rising and there are clouds. I rushed Jiggs around the park. This was not a night for poetic thoughts -- no moon, desperate cold. Not even Emily Dickinson would have deigned to spin iambic pentameter out of such meager gruel.

But I did start thinking about Mexico -- a lot. Three separate articles in The Economist have got me thinking when I should sell my house in Oregon and buy a home in Mexico. (I know. Not until I rent and get to know an area. But the timing may prove problematic.)

Here are the three news items.

1. Everyone knows this one. The big R. The ski jump. The precipice. Pick your cliché. A recession is on the way. That will mean that housing prices will be depressed a bit longer. My home town already has a glut of unsold houses on the market -- some in my own neighborhood. But everyone knows this story.

2. This little piece of bad news is not as well-known. Buckle your seat belts for a series of mortgage insurance and bond insurance bankruptcies. The big banks may be writing off some debt, but all of those mortgage insurance policies that brokers scared young marrieds into buying will now come due. And too many were sold. After all, in an ever-expanding economy who is going to lose a job, and, if they do, they can live off of their windfall equity in their big home that their parents could never have dreamed of owning. Those insurance bankruptcies should start hitting in the next two years -- just about the time that the recession is waning.

3. But this is the big one -- and the most disturbing. All of we boomers have risen to the top of the economic pyramid with our big houses and big cars. We are now ready to retire. The kids are gone. All is well. But those darn big houses are so -- BIG. We will want somewhere with less space to care for. Maybe a 1 bedroom or a 2 bedroom. The trend has already started, but it will be in full swing in the next 3 years. The effect will be that a lot of big, formerly-expensive homes will come on the market. And who will be there to buy them? Remember all of those new schools built for boomers -- that needed to be shut down because boomers were busy having careers rather than kids? The long-range forecast is that big houses will drop in price because there will be no market for them. Opportunities for some, reversals for others.

Adding all of that together, if I time matters well, I may be able to sell my house in about 18 months or so. That will give me time to retire within the next year and to rent somewhere in Mexico for 6 months before I make the final move.

On the other hand, I could just play it by ear and enjoy even these nippy nights.

As I write, the moon has broken through the cloud cover.

moon in my window

It is a night for poets and sled dogs. Jiggs (you will recall him from several chapters back: the dog doing his Camille impression, who is now livelier than ever) insisted on going for a second walk. So, off we went into the 29 degree weather.

For we western Oregonians, this is cold. But I soon forgot all about the chill in the air. I looked up. The sky was not only cloudless, it looked like a black dome studded with lights. And lights of varying colors. Blue stars. White stars. Red stars. I do not recall a night when I could see the different colors in the stars. No wonder the Greeks thought the heavens were made of crystal spheres.

But all of that was the supporting chorus. Onto this stage stepped Luna in full glory, lighting up everything in a ghostly imitation of day. Today Michael Dickson wrote in his blog:

Tonight a giant moon will light this expansive patio, and visitors will see what their ancestors saw a hundred or more years ago.

As I stood looking into the creek reflecting the moon's light, I thought about the numerous generations of new and old Americans who stood on that very bank and looked at the magic of the moon on the water -- the same moon that tonight shines on a patio in Pátzcuaro evoking memories of generations gone by and many more to come.