What have I done? Not much. At least I don't remember much. I remember puttering around a lot, a few trips into "town", eating a lot of fish tacos at our favourite Mexican fast food place, doing a lot of paperwork for new visa, and planning out various small projects for our pocket-sized garden. I am seriously trying to get more into my serious reading, but have only touched the surface of that. Everyday life just keeps intruding. So if my blog is a little disjointed, it is because I am a little disjointed.
The process of renewing my Mexican visa has been somewhat interesting. I had until the 13th of November to renew. Meanwhile, the Calderón outgoing government had made substantial changes to the whole Mexican immigration system with a whole new set of laws and structures, and guess when they were to be implemented? On the 9th of November of course. This gave me the most awful choice of either applying under the old set of laws, or under the new, untested, and completely incomprehensible new laws. Under the advice of a local facilitator, I chose to go the old route and was immediately advised to get my renewal in ASAP as the local office was cutting off the date early. My renewal went in, was accepted, and I got the receipt. All I needed to do next was wait to be notified to go pick up my new visa. However, chaos now reigned in the local expat community as rumours abounded. Apparently, the local Immigration office was so swamped with renewals that it ran out of forms. Later information claimed it wasn't the forms, just the paper they had run out of. As with all crises in Mexico, the key is to remain calm at all times and wait for the dust to settle. So I am. If the stars are in alignment, I will soon get my new visa. If not, well.....it will be something else instead. This IS Mexico after all, where all is possible, one way or another.
Since the above adventure required several trips to Chapala, the main administrative centre for our area, we took some time to enjoy the trip back and forth along the north shore.
Some people think the north shore is like the French or Italian Riviera. I personally feel this to be an enhanced image, but it is quite pleasant with the villages snuggled up against the mountains, and a lovely southerly view of Mount Garcia across the lake. The trip, although a mere 15 miles or so, takes almost an hour as we pass through several traditional Mexican villages along the way. The expat housing is easily recognized, as they do like gated communities, but they also live in the villages, or in walled villas along the lakeside.
Colourful painted Mexican casas and casitas, lush flowering trees and vines spilling over the walls, identify this as a quaint and special place.
However, it is over-run with expats and visitors, traffic clogs the tiny streets, and for out of town locals such as us, a general pain in the neck to get through on the way to Chapala.
Just past Ajijic, a major by-pass forks off from the road along the lake. At this major intersection, an American style development recently added a Walmart, a reasonable sized strip mall and in behind a Pemex gas station, hidden completely away from the hurly burly, the best fish taco place outside of Baja. We always somehow manage to be there right at lunch time. Amazing how that seems to work out (wink wink).
In any case, it is only $1.60 for a fish taco and a mere ten cents more for a shrimp taco (indescribably delicious).
On the way home, we take our usual "back-road route" from the town of Jocotepec, along the historic Camino Real (The Royal Road) that passes through the agricultural fields to our pueblo of San Martin Obispo. The handwritten sign on the next photo says "Camino Real a San Martin".
Today, expats blithely drive out this cobbled track to buy fresh raspberries, unknowing of the historic significance of its birth by the arriving Spaniards in the early 1500s.
When we leave the Camino Real we follow a dirt track along the base of the mountain towards our property. From a slight rise we can see the edge of our lot. It extends from the tree at the top of the hill (marked by a red arrow) downwards to the track.
Everything we do here has its own rhythm, and there is a joy in the smallest of things. We have a laundry inside the casita (or little house) with modern washer and dryer, but I never use the dryer. We had a friend living in the house who couldn't manage (or even imagine managing) without a dryer so we installed one for her. But I hang my clothes to dry across the terrace. I confess it is a Canadian thing. I know that Americans are horrified at the mere thought of clothes on a clothes line but with apologies to our American family, I just don't get that. The British countries love clothes lines, and love hanging clothes out. We love the smell, we love the sight, we just love it. In New Zealand, there is nothing prettier than a Monday wash day in Auckland with strings of white sheets flapping in the breeze across the hills. In Australia, same thing. In Canada, my own mother showed us by example, the art of hanging out clothes. For an art it is. The longest to dry are rolled out first, heavy jeans and jackets and such like. And the quickest to dry are hung out last. Because one clothes line is usually not enough for the entire wash, then the order of the washing is somewhat dictated by the same principle. Even in winter, my mother hung out the clothes...jeans froze into solid panels, but after a suitable time were taken in and thawed and much to my amazement, were completely dry. In Mexico this is what my clothes line looks like....
Well I apologize to the readers for writing a "lot about nothing", but really this is life here. It is a very simple affair. Hopefully before the next blog, we will have some form of Mexican crisis to brighten up the story.
Barbara
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