I enjoyed this communication so I thought I’d share. (Christian is a friend in Mexico City and Toby is a friend from Vienna who is coming to visit for a month.)
Hello Charles!
Next Monday is my birthday, so we are planning to go skydiving the following weekend (Sunday, Feb 1st) in Teques, it’s the safest place or at least the most famous (and safest) one around, so I thought you guys might want to join us since you will be in Mex City with Toby. We would leave Mexico City Sunday morning, 1.5 hr drive to Teques. Jump at 13 hrs., then have lunch around there, and come back, expecting to be back in Mexico City at 18:30 pm.
Price: 2,150 pesos per person, and if you want a video of you taken while in the air, its 950 pesos extra.
As of today, we would jump in pairs (2 persons per flight), but there’s a big chance they are using a bigger plane cause they have more people jumping.
The website is http://www.paracaidismo.com.mx/ check it out.
Hopefully you want to join!
Besos
Christian
Dear Toby,
I already told Christian that "I ain't jump'n outta no frigg'n airplane" but here is the information in case you are interested.
Hi Charles,
Thanks for the info, but I am with you! After 12 hours on a plane the day before, I don't feel like going on another plane the day immediately after with jetlag, just to jump out of it again. I would do skydiving, however if I would do it I'd rather do it over here in Europe with higher chances of survival.
Love,
Toby
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Economic Woes
Maybe the title should be, “Watching your dreams disappear.”
The first year of retirement I made money faster than I could spend it. Even with multiple trips, home renovations and a new car, I ended the year ahead. I thought, “Damn, why didn’t I retire earlier?”
That has all changed. The plans for spending six weeks or more in Europe every year, maybe buying another piece of property, adding an entertainment pavilion or another casita; they’ve all evaporated.
Instead of eyeing a beach house, I’m planting a garden. Instead of perusing travel sites, I’m reading garden blogs and talking to neighbors about learning to can what we produce. We’re building a compost bin out of old wooden pallets. Travel outside of Mexico is temporarily off the board.
As I tried to salvage my portfolio, I thought I was making a brilliant financial move when I converted a bunch of dollars to pesos when the peso fell from 10:1 to 12:1. Two days later it was 14:1. (Instead of making 20% on my money, I could have made 40%.) Well, exchange rates are like the stock market; one can’t really time them exactly.
And I’ve found these neat little things called “CETES” which are Mexican government backed securities where your capital is protected and they pay about 7% APR after taxes. They mature every 28 days and the interest is deposited directly to my checking account, giving me the option to roll over the capital or withdraw, as I see fit. So far, so good. As long as there is not a revolution I should be ok.
Just when my money is at its lowest, governments seem to be coming to me for more.
My property taxes went up 300%. (But to put it in perspective, I was only paying about $300 USD per year. Now it looks like it will be about $900 USD.) I’ve written letters and today I went to the assessor’s office with a lawyer. It is not over yet but it looks like there is no way out. I guess the good news is that the assessor told me that I should be able to sell my property for three times what I paid for it only four years ago. (I asked him to find me a buyer.)
And now the state of California seems to think that I owe them income tax even though I don’t live or work there any more. Something about earning income from a California based company. (Yeah, well some of the properties are in California and some are in Oregon. Two are in Nevada. Does that mean that Oregon and Nevada are going to come after me as well?)
The current state of affairs in the U.S. also has an enormous impact on Mexico. After Oil, Mexico’s second largest commodity is U.S. dollars sent to Mexico by Mexicans working in the U.S. Many of those Mexicans work in the construction industry. Many of them are now out of work. (I sure that is part of the reason that the peso has lost 40% against the dollar. Dollars are now harder to get.)
But when it is all said and done, I still consider myself lucky. I have no debt and a house that is paid for. My overhead is low. I live in a beautiful place with an amazing partner. We have a wonderful circle of friends. We have our health.
If this is just one of life’s wake-up calls, so be it. I can find pleasure in nature, focus on being grateful for what I have rather than cry over what got away. I believe that I can hang on.
However, Go Obama! (I don’t want to have to return to work when I’m 60.)
The first year of retirement I made money faster than I could spend it. Even with multiple trips, home renovations and a new car, I ended the year ahead. I thought, “Damn, why didn’t I retire earlier?”
That has all changed. The plans for spending six weeks or more in Europe every year, maybe buying another piece of property, adding an entertainment pavilion or another casita; they’ve all evaporated.
Instead of eyeing a beach house, I’m planting a garden. Instead of perusing travel sites, I’m reading garden blogs and talking to neighbors about learning to can what we produce. We’re building a compost bin out of old wooden pallets. Travel outside of Mexico is temporarily off the board.
As I tried to salvage my portfolio, I thought I was making a brilliant financial move when I converted a bunch of dollars to pesos when the peso fell from 10:1 to 12:1. Two days later it was 14:1. (Instead of making 20% on my money, I could have made 40%.) Well, exchange rates are like the stock market; one can’t really time them exactly.
And I’ve found these neat little things called “CETES” which are Mexican government backed securities where your capital is protected and they pay about 7% APR after taxes. They mature every 28 days and the interest is deposited directly to my checking account, giving me the option to roll over the capital or withdraw, as I see fit. So far, so good. As long as there is not a revolution I should be ok.
Just when my money is at its lowest, governments seem to be coming to me for more.
My property taxes went up 300%. (But to put it in perspective, I was only paying about $300 USD per year. Now it looks like it will be about $900 USD.) I’ve written letters and today I went to the assessor’s office with a lawyer. It is not over yet but it looks like there is no way out. I guess the good news is that the assessor told me that I should be able to sell my property for three times what I paid for it only four years ago. (I asked him to find me a buyer.)
And now the state of California seems to think that I owe them income tax even though I don’t live or work there any more. Something about earning income from a California based company. (Yeah, well some of the properties are in California and some are in Oregon. Two are in Nevada. Does that mean that Oregon and Nevada are going to come after me as well?)
The current state of affairs in the U.S. also has an enormous impact on Mexico. After Oil, Mexico’s second largest commodity is U.S. dollars sent to Mexico by Mexicans working in the U.S. Many of those Mexicans work in the construction industry. Many of them are now out of work. (I sure that is part of the reason that the peso has lost 40% against the dollar. Dollars are now harder to get.)
But when it is all said and done, I still consider myself lucky. I have no debt and a house that is paid for. My overhead is low. I live in a beautiful place with an amazing partner. We have a wonderful circle of friends. We have our health.
If this is just one of life’s wake-up calls, so be it. I can find pleasure in nature, focus on being grateful for what I have rather than cry over what got away. I believe that I can hang on.
However, Go Obama! (I don’t want to have to return to work when I’m 60.)
Sunday, January 11, 2009
The Straight Man Kiss
I got one this evening, unexpectedly. A kiss that is.
I went over to Melanie and Eric’s ranch to talk about building a three-system compost bin. Our other friends, Megan (from the U.S.), her Chilean husband David and their baby Matilda are living at the ranch now as well.
Melanie met me at the gate with a glass of wine in hand, and pointed out where some bees had migrated through their property. Eric and I sat down with composting plans while David was sanding the latest piece of furniture that he is making. Matilda was sleeping in her crib in the shade.
After we hammered out our composting design plans, the afternoon wound down into lounging in the courtyard, drinking homemade wine and watching Matilda wake up from her nap (and preventing her from doing tongue kisses with the dogs through the mesh of her playpen).
Melanie whipped up an amazing curry stir-fry dinner.
As we were leaving, David was giving me a hug goodbye and kissed me on the cheek.
There is something so special when a straight man kisses me on the cheek.
It is different when a bi-curious man kisses a pretty young guy. Kind of like, “Yeah, I’m straight but if I were gay I could so hit that!” But this is very different, when a young straight man kisses a middle-aged gay man spontaneously.
And I don’t think that it is a cultural thing. Maybe in David’s case, being Chilean. But my first such kiss here in Mexico was from a straight young American from Chicago. And I’ve gotten one from the father of my Mexican godchild as well.
It catches me off guard. I feel like, “Wow, I should have kissed them back!” But I’m usually so surprised that I’m clumsy.
Thank you though; to this generation of straight young men who are so unabashed in their show of genuine, spontaneous affection. And so unaffected by the gay – straight stigma. It warms my heart and reaffirms why I live here.
I went over to Melanie and Eric’s ranch to talk about building a three-system compost bin. Our other friends, Megan (from the U.S.), her Chilean husband David and their baby Matilda are living at the ranch now as well.
Melanie met me at the gate with a glass of wine in hand, and pointed out where some bees had migrated through their property. Eric and I sat down with composting plans while David was sanding the latest piece of furniture that he is making. Matilda was sleeping in her crib in the shade.
After we hammered out our composting design plans, the afternoon wound down into lounging in the courtyard, drinking homemade wine and watching Matilda wake up from her nap (and preventing her from doing tongue kisses with the dogs through the mesh of her playpen).
Melanie whipped up an amazing curry stir-fry dinner.
As we were leaving, David was giving me a hug goodbye and kissed me on the cheek.
There is something so special when a straight man kisses me on the cheek.
It is different when a bi-curious man kisses a pretty young guy. Kind of like, “Yeah, I’m straight but if I were gay I could so hit that!” But this is very different, when a young straight man kisses a middle-aged gay man spontaneously.
And I don’t think that it is a cultural thing. Maybe in David’s case, being Chilean. But my first such kiss here in Mexico was from a straight young American from Chicago. And I’ve gotten one from the father of my Mexican godchild as well.
It catches me off guard. I feel like, “Wow, I should have kissed them back!” But I’m usually so surprised that I’m clumsy.
Thank you though; to this generation of straight young men who are so unabashed in their show of genuine, spontaneous affection. And so unaffected by the gay – straight stigma. It warms my heart and reaffirms why I live here.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Navidad 2008
Two years ago, I attended my first Christmas with the family and I was nervous as hell. I was the first boyfriend that Rod had ever brought home for Christmas so it was kind of his “coming out” Christmas. Everyone knew, but that was the first time that it was in their face. And an older gringo to boot.
However, after four years together, I’ve met most of the immediate family and we’ve hosted aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews here at the ranchito. So this year, instead of walking in the door to meet a crowd of strangers (who speak a different language) I was greeted with back-slapping hugs, kisses on the cheek and children jumping into my arms.
This is one big family that has figured out how to handle the masses. With 40 adults and 20 children (even larger if everyone could make it) dinner is somewhat pot luck. However, a couple key members make massive quantities of their traditional dishes. Yes, there is a turkey and a waldorf salad. But little else resembles my traditional Christmas meals. There is “bacalao” which is a re-constituted salt-dried white fish heavily seasoned with garlic and herbs, and a shrimp and herb dish served in a mole (not sweet but spicy chocolate sauce) called “romeritos”. (There is also spaghetti but I imagine that springs from fussy children who won’t eat the “adult” food which tends to be rather spicy.)
There are two seatings for dinner. Those not seated for the first round, serve those who are and when finished the first seating serves the second seating.
However, after four years together, I’ve met most of the immediate family and we’ve hosted aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews here at the ranchito. So this year, instead of walking in the door to meet a crowd of strangers (who speak a different language) I was greeted with back-slapping hugs, kisses on the cheek and children jumping into my arms.
This is one big family that has figured out how to handle the masses. With 40 adults and 20 children (even larger if everyone could make it) dinner is somewhat pot luck. However, a couple key members make massive quantities of their traditional dishes. Yes, there is a turkey and a waldorf salad. But little else resembles my traditional Christmas meals. There is “bacalao” which is a re-constituted salt-dried white fish heavily seasoned with garlic and herbs, and a shrimp and herb dish served in a mole (not sweet but spicy chocolate sauce) called “romeritos”. (There is also spaghetti but I imagine that springs from fussy children who won’t eat the “adult” food which tends to be rather spicy.)
There are two seatings for dinner. Those not seated for the first round, serve those who are and when finished the first seating serves the second seating.
After dinner (it is now getting close to midnight) the children form a procession in groups of two, carrying a baby Jesus in swaddling between them, and everyone sings a hymn. Then the children are whisked upstairs to see if they can witness Santa’s arrival.
Once the children are upstairs, parents scramble to car trunks, closets, wherever their secret hiding place is, and retrieve the gifts for their respective children. After the gifts are all laid in front of the nativity scene, an uncle with a very deep voice yells up the stairwell, “HO, HO, HO!” and then the rest of us yell, “Adios Santa!” and the children come pouring down the stairs; having once again, just missed seeing Santa.
With eager faces they all sit in front of the tower of presents, waiting for their name to be called.
(My face almost hurt from smiling so much.)
After all the gifts are distributed and opened, the chaos ensues as everyone plays with their toys and shares with their brother, sister, cousin or even the “friend” of Uncle Rodrigo. The music starts and dancing begins.
If I ever found myself alone, not talking to anyone, all I had to do was sit and wait for a few minutes and some child would find me and share the marvels of their transformer or new doll or would attempt to entice me into a game of one sort or another.
I come from a small family. I’m not accustomed to the chaos that can be Christmas. But to me, Christmas is all about the children. And in Rod’s family, there is no shortage of children.
Family photos were being taken in one part of the house while I was in another. My conversation was interrupted when I heard my name being yelled in chorus from the other room. Rod’s family photo was being taken and I was missing from the group. They were all calling me. (I had to choke back a tear.)
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Parts South
Every other Christmas, Rod’s father’s side of the family convenes for a Christmas Eve celebration. This was the year.
In addition, Rod’s father’s 70th birthday was the week before, in Cuernavaca. Rather than drive down twice, we decided to arrive for the birthday celebration, rent a little villa for the week, take some day trips and hit the big Christmas event on our return.
It only took us two hours to drive to Mexico City, but it took three hours to cross it. (One of Rod’s cousins asked me if I found it difficult to drive in Mexico City. “Why would it be?” I asked, “There is a car in front of you, one behind you, one on your right and another on your left; and you’re only going five kilometers per hour. What’s hard about that?”)
In Cuernavaca, we stayed at Las Villas de Bellavista ( http://www.cuernavaca-villas.com/crental4/rental_houses_cuernavaca204.html) which was about 10 minutes from Rod’s parent’s house. It was half the price of the hotel where we usually stay, and it had a big kitchen, beautiful gardens and a swimming pool. Although a little dated in appointments, it was spacious, comfortable, quiet, and the owners couldn’t have been nicer. Two of their cats spotted us for what we are (i.e., animal lovers) and adopted us immediately.
We arrived at the family home around 6:00 in the evening. (The party had started at 2:00, about 50 people.) Rod’s parents and brothers greeted us immediately and much to my surprise, Rod’s older brother was speaking to me in English; the same brother who two years ago, wouldn’t look me in the eye and would only speak rapidly in Spanish. Now, suddenly, he speaks English. And, did I get some food? Do I want any more? Are the waiters chilling my wine? Am I ready for it now? Do I want something else while the wine is chilling? (What a difference four years makes.)
And let’s not forget Rod’s mother; the woman who did barely more than scowl at me for two years. (I was more than a little afraid of her.) Not only was I greeted with a kiss but she had knitted me a scarf.
A good portion of the week was spent around the family dinner table, eating, talking, eating some more, but Rod and I did manage to sneak off for a day trip.
Our first stop was Las Grutas de Cacahuamilpa (http://cacahuamilpa.conanp.gob.mx/). It was the biggest cave I’ve ever seen, with stalagmites and crystal formations leading two kilometers into the mountain. Even with my claustrophobia, this cave was so big that it was no issue. (There is even a theater for about 200 people in the middle of this thing.) The pathway and surrounding formations were all cleverly and artistically lit. (I can’t imagine the person who found it going in with only a flashlight.)
From there we ventured on to the city of Taxco, famous for its silver production. The drive was beautiful, as was the city itself, set against a mountain side. However, unless you are really interested in buying silver, this town doesn’t seem to have much to offer. The streets are narrower than San Miguel and still they are two-way. And there is hardly any place to park. We were told, “Never go on a weekend.”
One thing that stood out to me on this trip was how much cleaner this part of Mexico is than our state of Guanajuato. I’m frequently annoyed by the amount of litter and garbage that I see strewn about the roadside and countryside. But not here. Not in this part of Mexico.
Probably my favorite part of the week was when all eleven of us (Rod’s immediate family) packed into two cars and headed to the town of Malinalco to see the ruins and to fish for our lunch. The trip took us about two hours from Cuernavaca. (It wouldn’t have taken us two hours except we passed through the mountain town of Chalma where the faithful bath in sacred waters that pass under a tree. Being a Sunday, they were out in mass (so to speak), and roadside vendors were selling beautiful crowns of flowers.)
The first stop in Malinalco was the archeological site. At the entrance we were figuring out who and how we were going to pay for all eleven of us when we were informed that I would be the only one who had to pay. On Sunday, Mexicans and Mexican residents can enter for free. The only proof of residency that I had with me was my Costco card and that wouldn’t cut it. My FM3 was back in the car, at the bottom of the hill, and I wasn’t about to go all the way down and back to save 40 pesos.
After the older boys were done playing “Rey del Mundo” (King of the World), the middle child, Santiago, thought it was time to go. “Vamos a pecar,” he said, (“Let’s go sin,”) instead of “Vamos a pescar,” (“Let’s go fish,”). (I decided then and there that I shouldn’t learn Spanish from a three-year-old.)
We headed off to the trout pond where we used bamboo poles (with cigarette filters as bait) to catch our lunch. The locals cleaned our fish and then we took them across the street to a restaurant where they cooked them for us, three different recipes, for $1.00 or $1.50 depending on our choice, and served them with beans and rice. (The bill for lunch, including soft drinks and beer for all eleven of us, was about $50.)
In addition, Rod’s father’s 70th birthday was the week before, in Cuernavaca. Rather than drive down twice, we decided to arrive for the birthday celebration, rent a little villa for the week, take some day trips and hit the big Christmas event on our return.
It only took us two hours to drive to Mexico City, but it took three hours to cross it. (One of Rod’s cousins asked me if I found it difficult to drive in Mexico City. “Why would it be?” I asked, “There is a car in front of you, one behind you, one on your right and another on your left; and you’re only going five kilometers per hour. What’s hard about that?”)
In Cuernavaca, we stayed at Las Villas de Bellavista ( http://www.cuernavaca-villas.com/crental4/rental_houses_cuernavaca204.html) which was about 10 minutes from Rod’s parent’s house. It was half the price of the hotel where we usually stay, and it had a big kitchen, beautiful gardens and a swimming pool. Although a little dated in appointments, it was spacious, comfortable, quiet, and the owners couldn’t have been nicer. Two of their cats spotted us for what we are (i.e., animal lovers) and adopted us immediately.
We arrived at the family home around 6:00 in the evening. (The party had started at 2:00, about 50 people.) Rod’s parents and brothers greeted us immediately and much to my surprise, Rod’s older brother was speaking to me in English; the same brother who two years ago, wouldn’t look me in the eye and would only speak rapidly in Spanish. Now, suddenly, he speaks English. And, did I get some food? Do I want any more? Are the waiters chilling my wine? Am I ready for it now? Do I want something else while the wine is chilling? (What a difference four years makes.)
And let’s not forget Rod’s mother; the woman who did barely more than scowl at me for two years. (I was more than a little afraid of her.) Not only was I greeted with a kiss but she had knitted me a scarf.
A good portion of the week was spent around the family dinner table, eating, talking, eating some more, but Rod and I did manage to sneak off for a day trip.
Our first stop was Las Grutas de Cacahuamilpa (http://cacahuamilpa.conanp.gob.mx/). It was the biggest cave I’ve ever seen, with stalagmites and crystal formations leading two kilometers into the mountain. Even with my claustrophobia, this cave was so big that it was no issue. (There is even a theater for about 200 people in the middle of this thing.) The pathway and surrounding formations were all cleverly and artistically lit. (I can’t imagine the person who found it going in with only a flashlight.)
From there we ventured on to the city of Taxco, famous for its silver production. The drive was beautiful, as was the city itself, set against a mountain side. However, unless you are really interested in buying silver, this town doesn’t seem to have much to offer. The streets are narrower than San Miguel and still they are two-way. And there is hardly any place to park. We were told, “Never go on a weekend.”
One thing that stood out to me on this trip was how much cleaner this part of Mexico is than our state of Guanajuato. I’m frequently annoyed by the amount of litter and garbage that I see strewn about the roadside and countryside. But not here. Not in this part of Mexico.
Probably my favorite part of the week was when all eleven of us (Rod’s immediate family) packed into two cars and headed to the town of Malinalco to see the ruins and to fish for our lunch. The trip took us about two hours from Cuernavaca. (It wouldn’t have taken us two hours except we passed through the mountain town of Chalma where the faithful bath in sacred waters that pass under a tree. Being a Sunday, they were out in mass (so to speak), and roadside vendors were selling beautiful crowns of flowers.)
The first stop in Malinalco was the archeological site. At the entrance we were figuring out who and how we were going to pay for all eleven of us when we were informed that I would be the only one who had to pay. On Sunday, Mexicans and Mexican residents can enter for free. The only proof of residency that I had with me was my Costco card and that wouldn’t cut it. My FM3 was back in the car, at the bottom of the hill, and I wasn’t about to go all the way down and back to save 40 pesos.
After the older boys were done playing “Rey del Mundo” (King of the World), the middle child, Santiago, thought it was time to go. “Vamos a pecar,” he said, (“Let’s go sin,”) instead of “Vamos a pescar,” (“Let’s go fish,”). (I decided then and there that I shouldn’t learn Spanish from a three-year-old.)
We headed off to the trout pond where we used bamboo poles (with cigarette filters as bait) to catch our lunch. The locals cleaned our fish and then we took them across the street to a restaurant where they cooked them for us, three different recipes, for $1.00 or $1.50 depending on our choice, and served them with beans and rice. (The bill for lunch, including soft drinks and beer for all eleven of us, was about $50.)
After lunch there was a brief detour for ice cream and then another for diaper changes, and we got back just after sunset.
Now we’re ready to brave the drive back to Mexico City for Christmas Eve.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
