Because we rent out our house while we're not yet there fulltime, we've had to equip it with all kinds of kitchen items, linens, and some decorative touches, to make the place comfortable for our renters. Naturally, we've been careful to make these items, while hopefully attractive, serviceable and inexpensive, so we won't be too concerned if they get damaged or accidentally misused.
I enjoyed our blitz shopping at Soriana's and the consignment bazaars when we were down in January, picking up items to stock a kitchen, working at color co-ordinating everything, but doing it as inexpensively as possible. The result was a place that, in my opinion, looks quite 'put together', but which is more rustico than designer chic.
Rob would have been pleased had I equipped all of the house that way, but to me the fun is in acquiring items that co-ordinate on a budget, and unfortunately, that meant that I bought about as many items up here to take down with us on the plane, as I bought down there. Now some of the purchases were very sensible, such as linens. Although there are quite a few sheet sets and towel sets to be had Lakeside (we haven't yet ventured into Costco and Walmart in Guadalajara), and although I'm told that they wear like iron, the samples we saw when we were down were a little stingy on the thread count, and a little eccentric in pattern. I was able to give Rob my best "see?" expression when I pulled out of our suitcase a couple of sets of sheets from our linen closet at home (giving me a chance to buy some new ones for NoB), and the two towels I packed were very useful until we had a chance to supplement them with Soriana supplies a couple of days into our trip.
Even the pillows that I crammed into our case made some kind of sense. Yes, we bought more at Soriana's, but that first night, after a day of paperwork with the notario and real estate agents, our two 'from home' pillows were very welcome. We finished the bedding with 'cheap and cheerful' comforters from Soriana's, and a good night's sleep was ours. I admit the cutlery that I packed was probably unnecessary, and Rob was, in fact, right, and, Mexicanos do use knives and forks and they are easily obtainable Lakeside... but we had the extra set at home anyway, and they didn't take up much room.
Rob jokes about that line. Everytime I look at something in our house in Canada, and decide it would be useful in Riberas, I put it aside for the next trip and say, "It won't take up much room." So far, taking up virtually no space at all in our suitcase for the next trip, are a colandar, teatowels, a spice rack, a vase, and a clock radio. I've even minimized the space situation further by buying some of those bags that you fill with clothing and linens, attach to your vacuum cleaner, and watch while, miraculously, all of the items shrink to one tenth of their size for packing. When I demonstrated this gadget to Rob, stuffing a huge bag with pillows, towels, sheets and a shower curtain, and turning on the vacuum to watch everything turn into a pancake-thick slab that would fit in the bottom of our suitcase, I thought he'd be thrilled. Instead, he pointed out to me that, although they actually didn't "take up much room" , they lost mass but not weight, and the suitcase is in closer-than-imminent danger of going over weight limits. His, as well as the airline's.
He has reason to be concerned over this. When we went down in January to take possession of the house and set it up for the first time, I had a flurry of buying and acquiring items for us and our houseguests to take down. All fit into the suitcases we took, except for the dishes. I found a real bargain in a set of dishes at the local Canadian Tire store, in the perfect colours, in very sturdy ironware, at a truly remarkable price. I rationalized that we wouldn't find anything cheaper in Mexico, that we needed dishes immediately upon crossing the threshhold of the place, and that they 'wouldn't take up much room'.
Well, they did. And they were heavy. So poor Rob ended up wrapping duct tape around the box, creating a strap, and shouldering the dinner set for four as his carry-on luggage through 4 airports and three flights, so my cheap-and-cheerful kitchen would co-ordinate. That guy must really love me, you know?
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Yes, Ms P.
I've been thinking quite a bit about teaching in the last few days. I have just started my Spanish course (yes! for anyone who has been following my adventures, I did, in fact, get into the Spanish course offered at our local university, and started my class on Friday). I enjoy watching the professor teach the class. As a retired high school teacher, I find watching teachers at work incredibly interesting; it's amazing how many do a good job at it, but how few excel.
When I was a teacher, I used to mentor student teachers fairly regularly, and it only took a day or so to determine whether or not a particular student had 'it' and would not only survive the classroom, but actually motivate and excite students. Most student teachers knew their material well enough, and lots of them had enough presence to keep their students, who generally only want their teachers to do well, engaged. What too few of them had was the imagination and organizing ability keep individual lessons interesting and the course focussed.
I use the term 'organizing ability' with some care. Anyone who knows me even slightly knows that I am not an organized person. I forget important dates, run out of kitchen staples, miss deadlines, lose keys, (and have been, since childhood, in imminent danger of losing my head if it weren't screwed on, according to my mother--quite the omen, when you think about it). But I do have the apparently rare ability to organize. I can break a project down into manageable components, or, on the other hand, see the several possible repercussions of a decision, when others don't. I'm the one who asks the question that goes to the heart of the matter, or the one who summarizes the seemingly random discussion of the past hour. ("So, what we're saying is..."). I'm good at the big picture, and am pretty able at seeing how to achieve it. It's a major reason why I've been successful in directing theatrical productions, and why I tend to be elected chair of things. A lot.
I used that ability in the classroom throughout my career. Designing curricula was one of my favourite parts of teaching: selecting the material, determining suitable and varied methodology to excite and motivate, working out appropriate assessment...jargon phrases for finding ways to get students to learn particular stuff. I found the problem-solving interesting, and I was often rewarded by seeing one of my lesson plans, or assignment sheets, or tests, having circulated around the department and the school, ending up being used, and shown to me, by a teacher somewhere else, unaware that the material was 'mine'.
Don't get me wrong; I had lots and lots of faults as a teacher, too. I sometimes moved too quickly: I could see where my students were going, and I too often jumped in instead of letting them get there on their own. I used humour in the classroom, but it was sometimes too dry, and (I'm sorry to say) sometimes bordered on sarcasm. I wasn't as open to my students as some other teachers were; I think I scared some less-secure students away. I know that I influenced and motivated some students (and deeply cherish the notes and cards I've received over the years) but I'm sure I alienated others.
I've always felt that students need to have all kinds of teachers in their academic career: those they get along with and those they don't; those that are 'easy' and those that are 'hard'. Those that are personable, and those that are more reserved. From one teacher we might get motivated by the material; from another, by the force of his or her personality; we might have to work at learning in spite of a third.
I was lurking around the webboards about Lakeside that I frequent lately, and saw a plea from one person looking for volunteers to teach ESL to Mexican children and adults. The writer pointed out that she had had no experience teaching before she volunteered, but that she found the experience incredibly rewarding. She was exhorting others to give it a try. I emailed her back; I'm going to see what I can do to help in the short time Rob and I will be down in December, and I fully intend to do more when we're down for longer periods in three years.
I guess it's in the blood. The Jesuits said, "Give me a child at an impressionable age, and he's mine for life." I think, "Once a teacher, always a teacher." Ask Rob. He often smiles, indulgently, and says, "Yes, Ms P" when I find myself using the 'teacher' voice on him. But, you know what? It works.
When I was a teacher, I used to mentor student teachers fairly regularly, and it only took a day or so to determine whether or not a particular student had 'it' and would not only survive the classroom, but actually motivate and excite students. Most student teachers knew their material well enough, and lots of them had enough presence to keep their students, who generally only want their teachers to do well, engaged. What too few of them had was the imagination and organizing ability keep individual lessons interesting and the course focussed.
I use the term 'organizing ability' with some care. Anyone who knows me even slightly knows that I am not an organized person. I forget important dates, run out of kitchen staples, miss deadlines, lose keys, (and have been, since childhood, in imminent danger of losing my head if it weren't screwed on, according to my mother--quite the omen, when you think about it). But I do have the apparently rare ability to organize. I can break a project down into manageable components, or, on the other hand, see the several possible repercussions of a decision, when others don't. I'm the one who asks the question that goes to the heart of the matter, or the one who summarizes the seemingly random discussion of the past hour. ("So, what we're saying is..."). I'm good at the big picture, and am pretty able at seeing how to achieve it. It's a major reason why I've been successful in directing theatrical productions, and why I tend to be elected chair of things. A lot.
I used that ability in the classroom throughout my career. Designing curricula was one of my favourite parts of teaching: selecting the material, determining suitable and varied methodology to excite and motivate, working out appropriate assessment...jargon phrases for finding ways to get students to learn particular stuff. I found the problem-solving interesting, and I was often rewarded by seeing one of my lesson plans, or assignment sheets, or tests, having circulated around the department and the school, ending up being used, and shown to me, by a teacher somewhere else, unaware that the material was 'mine'.
Don't get me wrong; I had lots and lots of faults as a teacher, too. I sometimes moved too quickly: I could see where my students were going, and I too often jumped in instead of letting them get there on their own. I used humour in the classroom, but it was sometimes too dry, and (I'm sorry to say) sometimes bordered on sarcasm. I wasn't as open to my students as some other teachers were; I think I scared some less-secure students away. I know that I influenced and motivated some students (and deeply cherish the notes and cards I've received over the years) but I'm sure I alienated others.
I've always felt that students need to have all kinds of teachers in their academic career: those they get along with and those they don't; those that are 'easy' and those that are 'hard'. Those that are personable, and those that are more reserved. From one teacher we might get motivated by the material; from another, by the force of his or her personality; we might have to work at learning in spite of a third.
I was lurking around the webboards about Lakeside that I frequent lately, and saw a plea from one person looking for volunteers to teach ESL to Mexican children and adults. The writer pointed out that she had had no experience teaching before she volunteered, but that she found the experience incredibly rewarding. She was exhorting others to give it a try. I emailed her back; I'm going to see what I can do to help in the short time Rob and I will be down in December, and I fully intend to do more when we're down for longer periods in three years.
I guess it's in the blood. The Jesuits said, "Give me a child at an impressionable age, and he's mine for life." I think, "Once a teacher, always a teacher." Ask Rob. He often smiles, indulgently, and says, "Yes, Ms P" when I find myself using the 'teacher' voice on him. But, you know what? It works.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
se renta
While we both wait not-so-patiently for Rob's retirement date in three years, we rent out our casa to others through a rental agency in Mexico. So far, in the nine months since we have owned the house, we've had two renters, for a total of six months.
We know nothing about these people, as they found our house online or through ads sponsored by the rental agency, and all the financial and other dealings go through it. It's an interesting thing to speculate about who is in your house, and what they think about it, but we will never know, except for some incidental feedback from the agent ("the lady really likes the gardens, and has bought some more plants for it while she stays there"). We know that the agency checks them out to ensure that they care for the property, and takes a healthy deposit to ensure that they can pay for whatever bills they incure. Other than that, we really don't know.
We could find out more if we asked the agent, perhaps. Rob speculates that he'd like to have some contact with them; he'd like to know if there are things they don't like that we could correct, and he'd like to know if they are happy with the service the agency is providing. Perhaps he's right, but I rather like being at arms length in some ways: I know the place is occupied and being looked after, which is the main purpose of the exercise, and I don't have to think too hard about what the people are up to in our home.
Rob may soon get his wish. While I was looking at one of the message boards for our area, I came upon a posting for someone wishing to rent in our area for about one year, starting mid September. Our house seemed to fit their requirements, so I took a chance, emailed them about it, and, based on their reply, sent them pictures and some information.
Although I made it clear that they would have to deal with the agent, and they were happy to do so, having our email address, (and us having theirs), made it easy for them to ask about a number of details the other renters would not have been able to enquire about, and very easy for us to answer, provide more photos, etc. They learned more about us, as a result, and we learned a number of things about them. We've decided to let them rent for one month in September, check out the house and neighbourhood, and if they like it, rent for the longer term.
What's causing them to hold back a little, is that we'd already made arrangements to go down to our house in December. When we bought, the agent assured us that we could come down periodically during the next three years, and if someone wanted to rent our house, they would provide them with somewhere else to stay during the time we were using the property. That is what will happen in this case, if these people want the place for the long term.
It sounded really sensible in the abstract, but it is a little strange for both renters and us if it does happen. They will just get nicely settled, and feeling that the place is 'theirs' for two months, when they will have to temporarily move to another location. We will come down to our own home, but there will likely be evidence of these other people around when we do. In some ways we'll feel a bit like we're the renters in 'their' home. There are a number of things we plan to do while we are down for the month of December, such as painting the master bedroom, buying better lawn furniture, and decorating one of the bathrooms, so when they come back to the house in January, they'll find it rather different from when they left. I'll kind of want to know if they like it.
Perhaps I'll ask the rental agent to find out.
We know nothing about these people, as they found our house online or through ads sponsored by the rental agency, and all the financial and other dealings go through it. It's an interesting thing to speculate about who is in your house, and what they think about it, but we will never know, except for some incidental feedback from the agent ("the lady really likes the gardens, and has bought some more plants for it while she stays there"). We know that the agency checks them out to ensure that they care for the property, and takes a healthy deposit to ensure that they can pay for whatever bills they incure. Other than that, we really don't know.
We could find out more if we asked the agent, perhaps. Rob speculates that he'd like to have some contact with them; he'd like to know if there are things they don't like that we could correct, and he'd like to know if they are happy with the service the agency is providing. Perhaps he's right, but I rather like being at arms length in some ways: I know the place is occupied and being looked after, which is the main purpose of the exercise, and I don't have to think too hard about what the people are up to in our home.
Rob may soon get his wish. While I was looking at one of the message boards for our area, I came upon a posting for someone wishing to rent in our area for about one year, starting mid September. Our house seemed to fit their requirements, so I took a chance, emailed them about it, and, based on their reply, sent them pictures and some information.
Although I made it clear that they would have to deal with the agent, and they were happy to do so, having our email address, (and us having theirs), made it easy for them to ask about a number of details the other renters would not have been able to enquire about, and very easy for us to answer, provide more photos, etc. They learned more about us, as a result, and we learned a number of things about them. We've decided to let them rent for one month in September, check out the house and neighbourhood, and if they like it, rent for the longer term.
What's causing them to hold back a little, is that we'd already made arrangements to go down to our house in December. When we bought, the agent assured us that we could come down periodically during the next three years, and if someone wanted to rent our house, they would provide them with somewhere else to stay during the time we were using the property. That is what will happen in this case, if these people want the place for the long term.
It sounded really sensible in the abstract, but it is a little strange for both renters and us if it does happen. They will just get nicely settled, and feeling that the place is 'theirs' for two months, when they will have to temporarily move to another location. We will come down to our own home, but there will likely be evidence of these other people around when we do. In some ways we'll feel a bit like we're the renters in 'their' home. There are a number of things we plan to do while we are down for the month of December, such as painting the master bedroom, buying better lawn furniture, and decorating one of the bathrooms, so when they come back to the house in January, they'll find it rather different from when they left. I'll kind of want to know if they like it.
Perhaps I'll ask the rental agent to find out.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Katie
When Rob and I move to Mexico, one of our biggest considerations is going to be our cat, Katie.
We've had Katie for just about three years now. We adopted her and her brother when they were 6 months old, from a local cat shelter. I saw them about a week after we had to euthanize Splitz, my companion of 18 years, and my emotions were still raw. There they were, two orange balls of fur, one the adventurer and the other the nurturer. They were in our house within 24 hours.
We named them Spencer and Kate, after the famous Hollywood actors, since they were redheads, and because we thought the names were somehow clever. It took us about 3 weeks to recognize that they should have been named Bart and Lisa, their more appropriate models, but by then they had learned their names, and the die was cast. Spencer/Bart remained the adventurer: within 6 months Rob had retrieved him from several trees (loved going up; could never figure out getting down), a raccoon trap, from underneath a verandah, and the neighbour's roof. That spirit of adventure got him in trouble, though. Although the vet pronounced him healthy when we got him, she neglected to test him for and give him the FLV vaccine, and just after a year of living with us, he died from Feline Leukemia. We still miss him dearly. Although Rob and I have each had several pets, he was by far the cat with the most personality of any we've shared our lives with and, as Rob puts it, he fully lived his nine lives in his one short, eventful career. His ashes are currently resting beside Splitz's in our yard.
Our Katie, (Kate didn't last long) on the other hand, is very much Lisa. I've never known a cat with so many opinions, and with such a vocal range to express them. As a kitten, she would often come through the living room towards the food bowl, meowing whole paragraphs as she walked, almost all of them, we felt, tales told on her brother. Now her stories are about moths she has nearly caught, or birds at the bird feeder, or other tales told about her adventures looking through the window. Katie is an indoor cat. From the moment of her brother's diagnosis (and her own positive test for FLV as a result) she has stayed indoors, for her own protection against disease, and to protect other cats from being infected.
FLV is actually misnamed, I've learned. It was discovered when a high number of cats seemed to be dying of Leukemia, but the disease itself is not leukemia. It is actually a weakening of the immune system, which seems to allow Leukemia (along with other possible viruses) into the system. Cats like Katie can be otherwise healthy, and as long as their immune system isn't attacked, can live normal, and sometimes long, lives. Katie is now 3 1/2, the average age for cats with FLV to survive, but her care is better than lots, we give her immunity-boosting vitamins, and our hope is that she'll be healthy and happy when the big move to Mexico will take place in just under four years.
Getting her moved will be another matter. I can't imagine her anything like silent for a 8 hour series of plane rides, and I don't know how she'd handle a 4 day car trip. This cat talks, and unlike a child in the backseat, won't be bribed with McDonald's, or mesmerized by a gameboy.
She is a cutie, though, and if there's a way under heaven to get her down behind the walls of our house in Mexico, where she could safely laze in the sun, we'll get her there.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Mmmmm...Tortilla Soup
Sometimes, partly in order to keep us 'in tune' with things Mexican, I'll cook something that reminds us of our time down south. These meals are seldom, if ever, authentic, partly due to the lack of good fresh Mexican ingredients in Canadian supermarkets, but they have enough of the flavour of the real thing to keep us salivating for the true Mexican cooking to come.
This recipe is one I got from my friend Judy E., and which I tweaked a little to end up with the version we use quite regularly. It does freeze, which is a good thing because it makes a fair batch (certainly 2 meals worth for Rob and I) and it's a very hearty, one-bowl meal. Although hearty, we don't just eat it in the winter, but like Mexicans, or most South Americans, enjoy it in late summer evenings as well. Be warned, it is made of the simplest of items found in the supermarket, not fresh from-scratch ingredients at all, but it is yummy, and who doesn't like simple?
Judy's Tortilla Soup
1 jar salsa. (I use medium, I have used mild. Use hot at your
own peril.)
1 can corn. Do not use creamed corn.
1 litre (or quart) of chicken broth. (Here I do use my own broth, because I like making broth. Judy uses the carton kind.)
1 can black beans, drained (Rob isn't fussy on black beans, so I used mixed beans. I also leave the beans out in the summer, when I want a soup that's a little less hearty. It is still enough for a dinner on its own. )
shredded chicken (I cook extra chicken, like an extra thigh, when we
have chicken, and freeze it to make this soup later. You could make chicken just for this soup, because it's that good, but that adds to the work.)
Ok. So now you combine the jar of salsa, the beans, the stock and the corn, and heat it all through. Let it simmer a bit to combine the flavours. Add lots of shredded chicken, in bits big enough to taste, but small enough for your spoon.
Ladle into bowls, and add some corn chips, slightly broken up doritos or other corn-based tortilla chips. Press them into the soup with the back of your spoon.
Add a nice handful of shredded cheese. If you feel like splurging for the texmex mixed stuff, it's very good. Otherwise, just grate some cheddar or other cheese. There's plenty of zip in the salsa and the corn chips, if you get the flavoured ones.
Now that's Judy's recipe, and it's a good, comfort food one. Here's how I tweaked it:
Into the soup, before you ladle it, squeeze the juice of one lime. Pour into the bowl, and stir in a good helping of chopped fresh cilantro. Then add the tortilla chips and the cheese.
If you want to freeze it, do so before the lime, cilantro, chips and cheese. Save those ingredients for the night you are going to eat your soup, to keep the flavours strong and separate.
Like I said, it's not fancy, or even really authentic. But it sure tastes good, and you feel a little Mexican when you eat it.
This recipe is one I got from my friend Judy E., and which I tweaked a little to end up with the version we use quite regularly. It does freeze, which is a good thing because it makes a fair batch (certainly 2 meals worth for Rob and I) and it's a very hearty, one-bowl meal. Although hearty, we don't just eat it in the winter, but like Mexicans, or most South Americans, enjoy it in late summer evenings as well. Be warned, it is made of the simplest of items found in the supermarket, not fresh from-scratch ingredients at all, but it is yummy, and who doesn't like simple?
Judy's Tortilla Soup
1 jar salsa. (I use medium, I have used mild. Use hot at your
own peril.)
1 can corn. Do not use creamed corn.
1 litre (or quart) of chicken broth. (Here I do use my own broth, because I like making broth. Judy uses the carton kind.)
1 can black beans, drained (Rob isn't fussy on black beans, so I used mixed beans. I also leave the beans out in the summer, when I want a soup that's a little less hearty. It is still enough for a dinner on its own. )
shredded chicken (I cook extra chicken, like an extra thigh, when we
have chicken, and freeze it to make this soup later. You could make chicken just for this soup, because it's that good, but that adds to the work.)
Ok. So now you combine the jar of salsa, the beans, the stock and the corn, and heat it all through. Let it simmer a bit to combine the flavours. Add lots of shredded chicken, in bits big enough to taste, but small enough for your spoon.
Ladle into bowls, and add some corn chips, slightly broken up doritos or other corn-based tortilla chips. Press them into the soup with the back of your spoon.
Add a nice handful of shredded cheese. If you feel like splurging for the texmex mixed stuff, it's very good. Otherwise, just grate some cheddar or other cheese. There's plenty of zip in the salsa and the corn chips, if you get the flavoured ones.
Now that's Judy's recipe, and it's a good, comfort food one. Here's how I tweaked it:
Into the soup, before you ladle it, squeeze the juice of one lime. Pour into the bowl, and stir in a good helping of chopped fresh cilantro. Then add the tortilla chips and the cheese.
If you want to freeze it, do so before the lime, cilantro, chips and cheese. Save those ingredients for the night you are going to eat your soup, to keep the flavours strong and separate.
Like I said, it's not fancy, or even really authentic. But it sure tastes good, and you feel a little Mexican when you eat it.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Hurricane Dean
It's a very strange thing, owning a house two countries away, especially when you can't go to it very often.
As I've said in this blog, Rob and I won't be able to live in our house for a little more than three years, when he retires. Until then, we can visit at the most twice each year, for two or three weeks each time. The house is rented for the most part in between.
I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the house. I decorate and redecorate, visualize myself in the kitchen and the garden, have imaginary conversations with the neighbours, and generally fantasize about our future life there. I make lists and lists of things we might do to renovate parts of it (the kitchen is my special project), and try and superimpose some of our things here onto walls and shelves down in Mexico. It's a fun pastime, and for the most part, a harmless one.
There's a down side, though, to imagining the house that can't be reached easily. When Hurricane Dean swept through Jamaica on a clear course to Mexico, I was on the weather channel almost constantly, tracking its destructive path, one which, in my mind, led right down our Avenida and directly into the courtyard of number 225. Now I'm well aware that few hurricanes make it into the Lake Chapala valley, but, in my vivid imagination, Dean was headed there, in full force, and had a particular grudge against our house.
I'm reading the local Chapala webboards today, as people prepare for the heavy rains that are the more benign consequence of Dean in our area. Even that doesn't appease me, as I imagine water coming under the front door and along our tiled foyer. It doesn't help that the house is empty until the end of the month, so there's no one there to help defend it against the floods that I see making their way up to the second floor.
It's silly, I know. The house has withstood many rainy seasons in its 15 year life, and a couple of days of heavy rain this year aren't going to make any difference. Except there is a difference this year, because the house is ours, and I don't want anything to happen to it while we're not there. I'm getting almost maternal, not just proprietal about it.
Is this because it's the only house I've ever owned? Or is it because I'm not in it? Perhaps people who own cabins or cottages feel this way off-season, when they hear of major snowstorms blasting against their shuttered summer homes, or perhaps, when you've owned a place for awhile you take these things in stride, recognizing that catastrophes don't lurk around every corner.
All I know is that I'd rather be thinking about countertops and herb gardens today.
As I've said in this blog, Rob and I won't be able to live in our house for a little more than three years, when he retires. Until then, we can visit at the most twice each year, for two or three weeks each time. The house is rented for the most part in between.
I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the house. I decorate and redecorate, visualize myself in the kitchen and the garden, have imaginary conversations with the neighbours, and generally fantasize about our future life there. I make lists and lists of things we might do to renovate parts of it (the kitchen is my special project), and try and superimpose some of our things here onto walls and shelves down in Mexico. It's a fun pastime, and for the most part, a harmless one.
There's a down side, though, to imagining the house that can't be reached easily. When Hurricane Dean swept through Jamaica on a clear course to Mexico, I was on the weather channel almost constantly, tracking its destructive path, one which, in my mind, led right down our Avenida and directly into the courtyard of number 225. Now I'm well aware that few hurricanes make it into the Lake Chapala valley, but, in my vivid imagination, Dean was headed there, in full force, and had a particular grudge against our house.
I'm reading the local Chapala webboards today, as people prepare for the heavy rains that are the more benign consequence of Dean in our area. Even that doesn't appease me, as I imagine water coming under the front door and along our tiled foyer. It doesn't help that the house is empty until the end of the month, so there's no one there to help defend it against the floods that I see making their way up to the second floor.
It's silly, I know. The house has withstood many rainy seasons in its 15 year life, and a couple of days of heavy rain this year aren't going to make any difference. Except there is a difference this year, because the house is ours, and I don't want anything to happen to it while we're not there. I'm getting almost maternal, not just proprietal about it.
Is this because it's the only house I've ever owned? Or is it because I'm not in it? Perhaps people who own cabins or cottages feel this way off-season, when they hear of major snowstorms blasting against their shuttered summer homes, or perhaps, when you've owned a place for awhile you take these things in stride, recognizing that catastrophes don't lurk around every corner.
All I know is that I'd rather be thinking about countertops and herb gardens today.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
I have readers!
I have readers!
As I've been writing my blog entries so far, I've been imagining people coming across them ( I didn't know how exactly), and hopefully enjoying them, but I haven't been surprised by the '0 Comments' note at the end of each entry. I do have to admit that I didn't know how long I'd keep writing to '0 Comments', but the announcement didn't bother me, at least for the first while.
But a couple of days ago there was a comment, from Ann, who I certainly don't know, but who came across my blog and thoughtfully wrote to me. Then, the next day a comment from Brenda
and I felt rather famous. Now I know, in the world of blogging, my fledgling effort is barely on the radar, but on some radar it apparently is, and you can't believe how excited that has made me.
What makes Ann and Brenda's comments even more fun is that both women have preceded me on my route to Mexico, and both women have their own blogs, so not only can I learn from their successes (and possible failures) as they made the move to Mexico, but I can also steal shamelessly from their posts. (Just joking, Ann and Brenda).
Which brings me to the first point of this post. I've discovered an amazing amount of material online for anyone considering a move to Mexico, or even Lake Chapala, where we're heading, written by ordinary people who have made the same move and have enjoyed it, or hated it, have adapted to it or who have found it not to their hopes. I regularly lurk at a couple of webboards that have been set up for and by expats living in Mexico, and I've a whole binder of information about restaurants, service people, community resources, legalities and such that it would have taken Rob and I many frustrating months, even years, to accumulate. People are more than willing to offer suggestions, recommendations, examples from their own experience, and lots of people have gone out of their way to do so for us.
Most of this material is very helpful, and most of the people positive in their answers to questions I or others have raised. There is a 'curmudgeon' contingent, I admit, that one has to get used to when reading the posts on these webboards, as I suppose there will be in reality when we move down there. The area we are moving to is made up largely of retirees, and, as we all know, aging often makes us more exaggerated versions of the people we were when younger. Well, it does so for other people. You and I are exceptions, of course.
My second point of this post, is that doing this research has introduced me not only to important material, but to very interesting people. Reading a person's blog can become quite addictive, and I'm looking forward to going through Ann and Brenda's blogs to get to know them as people. The first 'Mexican' blog I discovered was Elliott's, and it only took me one entry to decide that I'd like her very much if she's anything like the narrator of her adventures in Mexico. It appears that Ann and Brenda read Elliott's blog, too, so I feel part of quite a special group.
My third point of this post has less to do with Mexico than it does about writing about Mexico (or whatever else comes to mind, I guess.) I was an English teacher for many years (yes, I know, I know), but, although I wrote speeches for graduations, and edited countless essays, compositions and journals, I haven't written anything much, just for my own pleasure, for many, many years. I'll never make a writer, but I find that I do enjoy the process of thinking through what I want to say, finding the 'mot juste' (or more often, something that'll work), and hitting the "publish post" button. It's actually quite a thrill to see it in 'print' on my monitor, once the blog fairies have taken the plain text and placed it into the template. Thanks to Elliott for encouraging me to give it a try.
I like it.
As I've been writing my blog entries so far, I've been imagining people coming across them ( I didn't know how exactly), and hopefully enjoying them, but I haven't been surprised by the '0 Comments' note at the end of each entry. I do have to admit that I didn't know how long I'd keep writing to '0 Comments', but the announcement didn't bother me, at least for the first while.
But a couple of days ago there was a comment, from Ann, who I certainly don't know, but who came across my blog and thoughtfully wrote to me. Then, the next day a comment from Brenda
and I felt rather famous. Now I know, in the world of blogging, my fledgling effort is barely on the radar, but on some radar it apparently is, and you can't believe how excited that has made me.
What makes Ann and Brenda's comments even more fun is that both women have preceded me on my route to Mexico, and both women have their own blogs, so not only can I learn from their successes (and possible failures) as they made the move to Mexico, but I can also steal shamelessly from their posts. (Just joking, Ann and Brenda).
Which brings me to the first point of this post. I've discovered an amazing amount of material online for anyone considering a move to Mexico, or even Lake Chapala, where we're heading, written by ordinary people who have made the same move and have enjoyed it, or hated it, have adapted to it or who have found it not to their hopes. I regularly lurk at a couple of webboards that have been set up for and by expats living in Mexico, and I've a whole binder of information about restaurants, service people, community resources, legalities and such that it would have taken Rob and I many frustrating months, even years, to accumulate. People are more than willing to offer suggestions, recommendations, examples from their own experience, and lots of people have gone out of their way to do so for us.
Most of this material is very helpful, and most of the people positive in their answers to questions I or others have raised. There is a 'curmudgeon' contingent, I admit, that one has to get used to when reading the posts on these webboards, as I suppose there will be in reality when we move down there. The area we are moving to is made up largely of retirees, and, as we all know, aging often makes us more exaggerated versions of the people we were when younger. Well, it does so for other people. You and I are exceptions, of course.
My second point of this post, is that doing this research has introduced me not only to important material, but to very interesting people. Reading a person's blog can become quite addictive, and I'm looking forward to going through Ann and Brenda's blogs to get to know them as people. The first 'Mexican' blog I discovered was Elliott's, and it only took me one entry to decide that I'd like her very much if she's anything like the narrator of her adventures in Mexico. It appears that Ann and Brenda read Elliott's blog, too, so I feel part of quite a special group.
My third point of this post has less to do with Mexico than it does about writing about Mexico (or whatever else comes to mind, I guess.) I was an English teacher for many years (yes, I know, I know), but, although I wrote speeches for graduations, and edited countless essays, compositions and journals, I haven't written anything much, just for my own pleasure, for many, many years. I'll never make a writer, but I find that I do enjoy the process of thinking through what I want to say, finding the 'mot juste' (or more often, something that'll work), and hitting the "publish post" button. It's actually quite a thrill to see it in 'print' on my monitor, once the blog fairies have taken the plain text and placed it into the template. Thanks to Elliott for encouraging me to give it a try.
I like it.
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