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The Goat. The G.O.A.T.? Just goats

Back last millennium, when I was at West Point, the cadet who graduated last in our class was called “the goat.” The goat won a bounty of $1 per member of the class in recognition of the achievement. It came to over $700 dollars, as I recall; not a bad reward for sustained performance!

Now I see references in sports to “the G.O.A.T.” or “the greatest of all time.” I oppose making acronyms just for their own sake. This one confuses, too, because in general being the goat is not a good thing.

We spent our time this weekend with some real goats. The four-legged kind. We visited Gallo de Allende, a new family-owned business along the lake. Juan Diego and his wife Laura have a hillside goat farm above the town of Mezcala, and they are offering tours in addition to selling goat cheese and milk at local markets.

Mountains tower over the parking area and pasture

The couple has taken the property from a scrub-covered, rocky field into a cleared and cultivated farmstead with amazing views. While they are focusing in the near term on growing their herd (32 head), they are also considering eventual expansion which could include a guest house, a cellar for aging cheeses, maybe even a place to host weddings. Juan Diego and Laura emphasize the quality of the natural feedstock their goats consume and the resulting quality of their milk and cheese.

Juan Diego and his goats take in the view

During the tour, we had a great breakfast of Mexican coffee, fresh fruit, goat-milk yogurt, and homemade granola. We got a chance to feed the goats and take a little tour.

Judy wanted to adopt the littlest one, but I don’t thing our dog Tucker would have approved.

We finished off with a nice little picnic consisting of wine, various cheeses, chimichurri, and plum jam. Delicious!

We had a great Sunday afternoon, leaned a lot about goats, and ate well. You can buy the farm’s products at the Tuesday market (Ajijic), take the tour (which starts at the bus stop in front of WalMart), or visit their FaceBook site.

Happy Independence Day

Mexican independence day, that is. September 16th is the annual fiesta for el Dia de Independencia; let’s see how it compares and contrasts to the 4th of July.

First, historically, there is a major difference. In the US, independence day celebrates the declaration by the Continental Congress establishing the necessity of independence (“When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…”), some fourteen months after the first shots were fired at Lexington and Concord. Mexico celebrates its independence day on the anniversary of the day its war of independence began, when Catholic priest Miguel Hidalgo rang the church bells in the city of Dolores as a call to arms against the corrupt Spanish colonial government. His cry is known as “el Grito de Dolores”, although if you Google El Grito in English you might get this result:

The city is now called Dolores Hidalgo in his honor. El Grito began the insurrection in 1810, and it ended ten years later with Mexican independence. The exact words of Padre Hidalgo are lost to history. Almost certainly he did NOT say “Viva Mexico!” as the province was known as Nuevo España and the term Mexico only later derived. Most historians agree he did call on the people to support Our Lady of Guadalupe, the revered Catholic icon, which also explains the close connection between Mexicans of all persuasions and la Guadalupana. As an interesting historical aside, Padre Hidalgo also called out Napoleon, as the French Emperor had recently conquered Spain and was responsible for Nuevo España when el Grito was made.

In terms of a party, there is much similarity to the US 4th of July. There are bands and parades, lots of flags, fireworks and military displays. Everything seems to be in Red, White & Green, the colors of the Mexican flag. Most towns re-enact el Grito around midnight on September 15th; the biggest celebration is in the Zocalo or main square in Mexico City, where el Presidenté reads el Grito then leads the enormous crowd in a series of ¡Vivas! followed by hours of fiesta.

We went out for dinner last night, and of course one course was the dish Mexicans associate with their independence day, chiles en nogada. As I said, everything is the colors of the Mexican flag! Viva!

¡ Guadalajara!

Last weekend was the beginning of college football season, so I dutifully sat on my couch and watched every single game that was available from Thursday through Monday. Actually, I will do that most of the rest of college football season…just until January. My dear wife Judy has no such affliction, so she decided to go on a tour of Guadalajara. But her trip did give me an excuse to insert one of my favorite Mariachi tunes:

Our Spanish language teacher, Gabriel González, is starting a new tour business called Mexplore (note to local expats: check out their Facebook page for further info. His first trial-run was a day tour of Guadalajara. The tour did the greatest hits of the Centro (downtown) area of Guadalajara, including:

This church which features a continuous exposition of the (huge) Blessed Sacrament above the altar;

A park honoring “illustrious citizens of Jalisco” (the Mexican state in which Guadalajara resides), which includes a rotunda where the ashes of some these citizens are interred;

This bronze relief representing the original settlers of Guadalajara;

The original Cathedral of Guadalajara from 1549;

The Museum Cabañas, a former orphanage which is now decorated full of stunning murals by José Clemente Orozco, a unique artist known for his mix of stark realism and visionary symbolism;

and the iconic current Cathedral. This walking tour also took time out for a lunch break at a typical local restaurant, and visited the literally endless Mercado Libertad, which could easily take a day by itself!

That said, the tour took all of nine hours, including travel time to/from lakeside, and was a big hit. I hope to make a future tour, perhaps for an evening of Lucha Libre!

Customer Service

I don’t really care why a business treats its customers well: because they have to (by law), or because they want to (for more business), or because they really do care. What matters is that they do provide good customer service. Two recent examples herein:

I promised y’all an update on the post about EU rules, and the verdict is in: they rock! You can review the whole story here, but the punch line was when you have airline travel delayed or cancelled and any part of your trip falls within the European Union, they have very strict rules on what the airline owes you.

I received a sizable compensation claim in one week from SAS for a flight they cancelled on us, even though they flew us to our destination later that same day. In effect, the flight was free. Our flight home from Gatwick (London) airport was also cancelled, leading to a three day stay in the English countryside. I filed the appropriate forms with Norwegian Air, and waited.

And waited. And waited. Two months to the day after I filed, they responded with an e-mail explaining that they would reimburse me the standard compensation (which amounted to a total of E1200, or about $1400 USD), but they would only pay for one day’s room and board, because they contended that we chose to stay in London that long and did not accept the first flight they could arrange. Harrumph, I say! They also refused to reimburse me for the second flight (which we ultimately took to get home).

This was more than a little aggravating. I stayed the extra days because they sent me a text message telling me their customer service was overwhelmed and I should arrange my own follow on flight and room to stay. If I had waited in line for four hours or so, they could have stuck me on any other airline that took me to LAX at any time, which was not what I was willing to do. Since I insisted on flying their airline, and their next flight availability was three days later, I felt the delay was justified. Unfortunately, my cell phone was stolen in the interim, and my text message history was gone, so I could not prove it. Argh! So I decided just to eat the extra costs of the rooms and meals.

However, I applied for the reimbursement of the second flight because their forms required me to list a dollar value for everything I was claiming. I thought, “well, I paid for the first trip, but only got halfway home, so they should cover the second trip.” Plus, how do I value part of a flight?

Regardless, I had paid for two separate trips home, and I only took one. I sent them back an e-mail asking for a refund of the part of the flight they cancelled, and this time they responded in three weeks and admitted, yes, they should have included this refund in the first place and thanks (not really) for bringing this matter to their attention so they could refund my credit card. Bottom line: after reimbursement and compensation, our flight home was free, too!

I had a chance to witness some good German-Mexican customer service this week, too. We went up to Guadalajara to have our VW Tiguan get its second annual service. Volkswagen is maniacal about maintenance, going so far as to forbid you using anything but their specially formulated antifreeze in your auto radiator. I managed to navigate the dealer’s website (en español) and make an appointment for our second annual service. We arrived, dropped off the car, and asked how long the service would take? “Five hours” the service manager responded. ¡Ay, caramba! But he offered us a taxi (gratis) anywhere we wanted to go, so we went to the nearest mall, did some shopping, got lunch, saw a movie (The Wife with Glenn Close, in English with subtitulos en español), walked back to the dealership (it was very close) about an hour early and they rushed to complete the paperwork and get us back on the road. We could have just stayed at the dealer and had espresso from the coffee machine or popcorn from the popcorn maker and surfed the internet.

My VW. German engineering comes with German prickliness about maintenance… “Mann macht es nicht!”

The VW dealer was very thorough, explaining everything they did in Spanglish so we understood, cleaning the car from top to bottom, and doing an inventory to show that everything we left in the car was still there. Total cost was around $150 USD. Muy bien.

Both these stories are relevant to expat life. The first reminds one that the rules vary from place to place, and it literally pays to know a little about the rules where you are travelling. The second is more mundane, but something as simple as getting a car serviced can be fraught with difficulty if you don’t speak the language, don’t understand the culture, or aren’t flexible. We all regularly experience poor customer service; makes the good service stand out that much more.

More things to do

Passing the 18 month anniversary of our move to Mexico, and fresh off the Camino which dominated the first 12 months of our time here, we are starting to branch out with other new activities. We were very careful that first year, based on the advice of local friends with great experience, to not over-commit our time, as some expats find themselves so over-scheduled their retirement lives are busier than their work ones were!

I applied for and was accepted into (shocking, I know) a local chapter of the Rotary. Chapala Sunrise Rotary is only a few years old, but is already the 3rd largest in its district. Our members are a mix of Rotary veterans and newcomers like me. This week we visited the small pueblo of Ojo de Agua, a 250 person Mexican community along Lake Chapala. Actually, the community is indigenous, comprising the Coca peoples who long predate the formation of the Mexican nation and have a storied, independent past.

Chapala Sunrise Rotary has built some water storage tanks, and is working with the people, local authorities, an NGO, and Mexican governments at various levels to improve the health of this community. I look forward to being a part of these efforts.

Locals preparing the daily catch from the lake

The site of the water tanks in a concrete structure built by the local government

This ditch takes sewage from the town to the lake

On a lighter side, Judy and I are considering how to take up tennis. We start with zero knowledge and experience, but we have two beautiful clay courts in our development at our disposal, and we want to try another sport where we can practice and play together. So once we figure out just how we are going to start this endeavor, you’ll hear more about our progress.

Finally, we’re going to take (dramatic pause)… dancing lessons. Judy actually knows how to dance, because she has some sense of rhythm. As for me, not so much. Actually, not at all. In fact, I may be the living definition of the phrase “absence of rhythm.” So progress here may be even slower, and I guarantee there will be no videos until I can handle the level of embarrassment!

That’s what we have new in store as we conclude year number two of expat life. That, and some travels around Mexico I will detail in future posts!

Everything You Know is Wrong (IV)

Today we descend into the morass that is individual rights. You can’t get far in today’s news without running into alleged right’s issues. NFL players kneeling during the National Anthem. Restaurateurs denying customers service based on politics. Neo-Nazis marching in the Capital. Talking heads often serve up these incidents as right’s issues; Face Book is full of smarmy posts claiming “rights” and directing those who disagree to get over it and shut up. Here is a dose of reality.

The rights in question are those in the Bill of Rights, the first ten amendments to the US Constitution. These rights limit the ability of the federal government to do things (“make a law respecting an establishment of religion”, for instance). Most of them deal with the rights of the accused (Forth through Eighth Amendments), while the Ninth is a catch-all stating there are more rights than those listed, and the Tenth indicates those powers not delegated to the federal government are reserved by the States and the people. An interesting point: these rights have nothing to do with citizenship. They are negative, in that they tell the government what NOT to do, or the amendments refer to persons, not citizens. Thus the Supreme Court has held that anybody on the territory of the United States has such rights (including terrorists, Nazis, and those here illegally)! The Fourteenth Amendment directed that the existing rights may be incorporated to the States, meaning (on a case-by-case basis) state governments (and local ones too) have the same limits when it comes to individual rights. So the federal (or state, or local) government cannot deny neo-Nazis a permit to march (“peaceably assemble” according to the First Amendment) despite the fact they are neo-Nazis. The government can regulate how and when, and place certain restrictions (e.g., no baseball bats), but that is all.

So the first question you have to ask is “is a government trying to deny someone something?” If the answer is no, then there generally is no right’s issue, right? Not so fast, my friends. The 1964 Federal Civil Rights Act articulated rights protecting individuals from discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex, or national origin. These protected classes of people cannot be discriminated against not just by government, but also by those offering public accommodation (bars, restaurants, taxis, etc). So now you have to look at whether the individual claiming a right’s issue is a member of a protected class, and was singled out on that basis, and was there a public accommodation. Thus it is okay to have a dress code requiring men to wear a tie in your establishment, as long as ALL men have to wear a tie (not just Asians, for example). Can you throw someone out of your restaurant because they are working for the White House? Yes, since political party is not a protected class. If you throw out only women from a certain political party, now you’ve done it, you have (arguably) violated their civil rights (sex is a protected class).

What about NFL players kneeling during the National Anthem? There is a Supreme Court case holding that the government cannot make persons participate in patriotic rituals (such as the Pledge of Allegiance), but that only applies to the government. Contrary to a certain President’s tweets, there is no government activity here. No one is coming to arrest the players, and they are free to kneel. Likewise, their managers or owners may decide to take action against them for doing so. Player contracts contain all kinds of behavior and teamwork clauses which let managers/owners fire them for all kinds of off-the-field issues. If the owners only disciplined African-American players, that might constitute a civil rights violation. As it stands now, there is no rights’ issue here. Want to make this issue really hard? What if you went to a game with a sideline pass, and you decided to join in by kneeling during the Anthem? You are a customer, not a player, but your ticket has terms and conditions which might enable the owner to throw you out for misbehavior. I doubt they would ever do this, as it would be needlessly antagonizing their own fans. Just showing how complicated this can be!

Finally, people with disabilities have similar protections, and during the Obama administration, the federal government argued that the protections afforded to sex also extend to sexual orientation and gender, although this contention was never determined in court and has been abandoned by the current administration. Not to mention, states cannot reduce or constrain individual rights, but they are free to add to them, so in some cases actions which are permissible under federal law are deemed illegal discrimination under state law. Clear as mud?

Let’s review. If you come to my house for a party and crack a Notre Dame football joke, I can order you out, and if you do not comply, I can call the police and have you arrested (for the sake of this example, pretend I am in the United States, as we would all have a good laugh at the idea of calling the Mexican police under such circumstances). My house is not a public accommodation, and your freedom of speech goes just as far within my walls as I say it does. Move my party to a public venue as a ticketed event, and I may still be able to throw you out for the joke, but I better not do so only to people of color, or women, or Hispanics, or Methodists, or Canadians. Or especially dark-skinned, Hispanic, Methodist women from Canada. Change this event to an official recognition ceremony at the White House honoring Notre Dame’s next football national championship (I know, I know, I should live so long), and I (or really the White House) cannot even prohibit you from wearing a “Notre LAME” sweatshirt to the event.

Your rights are inalienable, to borrow Thomas Jefferson’s original phrase. They come from “your Creator” according to the Declaration of Independence, they pre-date all government, and all legitimate government must abide by them. Many of the right’s issue today are really civility issues, as people try to get noticed, send a message, or stake out a position. That does not make those messages or positions invalid, but it also doesn’t make them right’s issues.

Just Another Day

Got up this morning and whipped up some bacon and fresh eggs for breakfast. I was in no rush, so I used the leftover bacon grease in the frying pan to brown up some diced onions and toast some bread, because you can’t let bacon grease go to waste: it’s just the liquid essence of bacon deliciousness.

The dog was running out of his custom, expensive dog food ($2000 MXP per 16 kg bag); he offered to share my meal, but instead I made a run into town and picked up another bag of his food at the local veterinary office.

Traffic was bad on the carretera (main street) in Ajijic. It probably took me ten minutes to get across town.

Headed north on the main road from Chapala to Guadalajara. As an expat at lakeside, you’ll undoubtedly travel this route all the time. It is one of the two main ways to get to “Guad,” and it passes by Don Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla international airport (or GDL). Visitors arriving, family returning, traveling most anywhere other than within Mexico usually starts with a visit to GDL. There is really only one road to use to get there, and it is poorly maintained south of the airport, as the Tapatios (Guadalajarans) coming south only need to go so far.

Sometimes the ejidos, local indigenous peoples, protest at the airport. They contend the Mexican government took some of their land (for airport expansion) and did not pay the agreed price, so the ejidos blockade the airport. Sometimes they stop all cars from approaching the terminal area , making you walk (which is bad), and sometimes they take control of the parking garage and make it gratis for the day (which is good). The ejidos did protest today, so free parking for everybody!

Ejidos occupying the parking booth, with their lawn chairs. They wave you through, and the toll takers just stand there.

Picked up my lovely wife from the airport and had an uneventful thirty minute drive home. We did also pick up a quart of milk (for me) and a bag of chicharrónes (for the dog) at the local super, La Huerta.

That’s my sweetheart, learning you can’t take the cart out of the arrival zone.

By now you’re wondering what the point of all this is. This past year, Mexico set a record for violent homicides with over 30,000 murders, and this year is on pace to exceed that number. If you want to hear about the latest violence in Mexico, almost any NOB news source will regularly feed it to you, and there are websites which specialize in it. The stories are sensational, as the drug cartels which promulgate almost all the violence are purposefully theatrical (i.e., sending a message).

These numbers are real, but like any numbers they tell only part of the story. One would think life in Mexico is like life, say, in Syria or Afghanistan, with constant gun fights and bodies strewn all over. But it is not. You’ll note in my coverage of this day’s events, there were no gun shots, no headless corpses, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet I traveled through a “plaza” (the nickname for a drug territory) which is actively being contested by two of the most violent Mexican cartels. Hmmmm.

I once lived and worked in the Washington, DC area. At times, my office was on a military post in South East DC, the poorest and most crime-ridden part of town. Inside the gates, things were serene, but outside was another story. I drove in and out of those gates at all different times of day, going to many different locations. Even when DC was briefly the “murder Capital of the US,” I didn’t really fear driving through it. Why? I knew that most of the violence was drug-fueled, or opportunistic, happening at the wee hours of the morning outside bars and pool halls or clubs. I didn’t do drugs, didn’t hang out at clubs in the middle of the night, didn’t flash a wad of cash at the 7-11 or the gas station. Sometimes bad things did happen to someone just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but like being hit by lightning, the odds were pretty much in your favor.

The same holds true for Mexico. If you don’t do drugs, flash cash, or get drunk and hang out super late, the odds are pretty much in your favor.

Last year, Mexico set a record for visit by tourists (almost 40 million, mostly Americans), and those numbers are up again this year. There are more American expats in Mexico than in any other country. Those are real numbers too. They all have stories to tell. Unlike the stories on the news, these stories are boring, like the one about my trip to the airport. But they are just as real. And they don’t make it to the news.

Being on your own

The past twenty days or so, I have been a geographic bachelor as my wife went to the States to attend to my daughter. I stayed home to take care of the dog, who like me, is getting a little older and crazier, and needs to be watched. Now back in the day, the Army or my other work sent me places where I was away from home for extended periods of time, but that was business travel, which is an entirely different ballgame. You go somewhere exotic for some specific reason, you have some specific mission, you complete it and you go home. All your away time is spent doing what they sent you for so you can go home.

This was something entirely different. I was home, in familiar settings, but by myself. Except for my dog, who is not much of a conversationalist. He basically asks “can we go out now?” or “is any of that food for me?” or yells “OMG, there is a truck outside stealing our trash DO SOMETHING!” Other than that, he just lays there and asks “where’s Mom?” Over and over and over again.

After graduating from West Point, I got married five days later, so I had very limited bachelor time. This was a learning experience for me. Here is what I learned:

Cooking for one is a PITA. Contrary to popular opinion, I can cook, but I don’t like to cook. I so don’t like to cook that I don’t even like to grill, which I know is a big man-card issue. To me, its just cooking outdoors, so WTH? My lovely wife likes to cook, and likes to eat healthy, so my normal routine consists of (a) becoming hungry, (b) asking when breakfast/lunch/dinner is, (c) eating, and (d) cleaning up. When you are alone, by the time I get hungry, I think, “I need to defrost something” which leads nowhere fast or somewhere quick and not very good. I prepare double portions with the hope I’ll be willing to reheat/eat left-overs, which I then fail to do. Oh, and there’s still that clean up thing, too.
Do not get sick, under any circumstances! If you get sick, make sure your friends rescue you, or you will die. This may sound drastic, but bear with me. I got stomach flu. You get so weak you can’t go out to the doctor. Also, I didn’t want to go to the doctor and get sent to the hospital, because what do I do with the dog? Luckily I have friends who brought food, drinks, and would have done more if I asked. But the bottom line is, when you are alone, the margin of error gets pretty close to zero.
Have a fire-proof house. This requires some explanation. I have told my wife on more than one occasion that we don’t need to worry about fire, because our casa is brick and mortar and there is nothing to burn. I went one step further this past week by testing that hypothesis. As I was recovering from the flu, I decided to make a pot of tea (lapsong souchong, in case you were wondering) to ease my symptoms. At around 8:00 pm I put some water in a pot on our gas stove to boil, and went back to my computer screen. Around 10:00 pm I took the dog out for a final walk, then went back and went to bed. After a fitful night, I awoke at 7:00 am and went to take the dog out again. When I came back to the kitchen, I hit a wave of hot air: what the? There was the pot, still on the flame eleven hours later! The water was (of course) all gone, the pot was oh-so-hot, but otherwise, nothing was wrong. I did use about 10% of the gas in my propane tank, but given the possibilities, that was a loss I was happy to accept. The real lesson is not fire-proofing as much as it is when you’re alone, there is no one to double check you for stupidity. In this case my guardian angel was working overtime.
I have a wonderful wife; this I already knew. There is nothing like an enforced absence to crystallize the concept. I know I am spoiled, that I made one really good decision in life and have been benefiting from it ever since. I did not suspect that she was also my muse, as I have found it hard to think of things to write about while she was absent. I think this verse says it all:

The Lord God said “It is not good for the man to be alone.”

The man said, “at last, this one is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.”

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife…

— Genesis 2:18, 23-24.

Unwanted visitors

Visitors are always welcome down here in Mexico. Well, almost always. I’ve had two unwelcome visitors this past week. They are not pretty stories, but they are part of expat life, so here goes.

The first visitor was–apparently–la gripe (“gree-pay”), or as you know it NOB, the stomach flu. Last Friday afternoon I went to my club for a nice tuna filet with a sashimi appetizer, as my wife and I have done for almost eighteen months now. It was delicious, but later in the afternoon my stomach started making “possession” noises. Oh, bad sushi, I thought, and prepared for the worst just before it hit. Then when I stumbled back to bed, I noticed I was shivering! Sure enough, I also had a low grade fever and chills. So probably not food poisoning, but rather something viral: la gripe.

The next two days were solid misery, as I only left the horizontal position to go to the bathroom, or take the dog out. My dog was as useless as you might think; he just stared at me and said things like “you’re not going to lay on the couch all day again, are you?” Maybe I imagined that. But I bet that was what he was thinking. Anyway, the fevers (and hallucinations?) broke Sunday morning, and I got the other symptoms under control by Sunday night. Monday I felt very weak, but not sick. By Tuesday I felt well enough to go to Spanish class.

Yes, of course, I rushed my recovery and now am slowing down again to let nature take its course. How I got sick remains a mystery, and I have not been to the doctor, so other possibilities (mosquito-borne illnesses) are in play. What this has to do with being an expat are all the offers of assistance I received from friends. I did finally accept Basil & Ernie’s offer to pick up meds and electrolytes, which saved me a trip out I really could not have accomplished. But I had offers of food and help from Lorraine and Barbara and John & Catherine and many more. Once again, that sense of community comes to the fore when you need it most. Gracias, mis amigos!

The second visitor was brief but equally annoying. After Spanish class on Tuesday, I stopped by Lorraine’s casa (she of the great Italian cooking) to pick up some prepared meals I had previously ordered. I pulled my car over directly in front of her front gate, got out, opened the door and walked no more than ten feet in…I could still see the back end of my car through the gate. Lorraine and I caught up for about five minutes, then I departed, put the food in the cooler in the back, and started driving home. I noticed I could hear road sounds, like the window was open, but it wasn’t. I looked at the dash instrument, and it indicated the passenger door was ajar.

Since I was at a stop light, I leaned over and pushed it as if to open it, and it barely budged: it was partially, not fully closed. So I tugged on it, the door engaged, and the instrument light went off. The light turned green, and I started to drive. Then it hit me: I am home alone, and no one has used my passenger door since my wife left for a stateside visit last week. ¡AY!

I glanced at the passenger seat where my smartphone used to be. Nope, not there. I pulled over and searched the car. Nothing. I drove back to the Spanish school, where I know I had it out on the desk and put in in silent mode: not there. I returned to Lorraine’s and it wasn’t lying in the street. She even asked the neighbors if they saw anything, since she lives in a close-knit community and they were as upset as I was that someone had probably stolen it: nada. Someone may have followed me, waiting to see where I stopped and if I locked the car. Someone may have just walked by and seen the phone sitting there, heard our voices and could tell we could not see them. Either way, someone gently opened the door, took the phone then pushed it (quietly) closed, though not all the way. Either way, it’s all on me for not locking the car!

Thus began my afternoon of customer service with T-Mobile. Since we have US cell plans, the process was challenging. It went well at first: I got on the T-Mobile web site and opened a chat window which promised immediate access to a service rep…which turned out to be a computer program pretending to be named Emele! You could tell by the stilted syntax and odd questions (“Anything else you would like to bring up while I am accessing your records?”). That said, the computer “agent” had pretty good artificial intelligence and was able to assure me that my line was deactivated and no other lines were affected. She could not handle my simple request for how do I go about replacing my phone, asking whether I wanted to upgrade that phone (ummm, its stolen) or do I have insurance (well you would know better than I, wouldn’t you?). Suddenly the chat window closed and I was back in the dark. Emele had had enough!

I video-chatted with Judy and asked her to handle the issue from the States, since I was going to have the new phone sent to her anyway. But apparently I am the primary account holder and never gave her more than something called “standard access” which means only I can deal with T-Mobile. Lucky me! I went on the T-Mobile website and changed her access from standard to “full” but that didn’t help. I think Emele was still angry at me. So Judy found some more customer service numbers, and after many voice prompts and shouts of “HELP” the system recognized that I needed to talk to a real person, and one arrived on the scene.

Once real humans got involved, it all went quickly and smoothly, and we even ironed out the account holder issues. It did involve a comical situation, as I talked on a Mexican landline phone to the service rep in the States, who sent texts to Judy in the States, who confirmed the texts and read back the pass codes to me and the service rep via a video chat I started with Judy on my tablet. In the end, the details all worked out and I will soon get a new phone. The Good Lord provides…even cell phones!

As to the thief, well, I hope they get some value out of the phone (even though it was pretty old), probably at the local pawn shop, as my friend John King reminded me. Petty theft is a fact of life where poverty and (relative) wealth co-exist, and the only inarguable point in all this is always, always (did I say always), ALWAYS lock your car.

A supportive community always ready to help, and someone with sticky fingers. No different than many places, but also parts of expat life in Mexico.

Street Art

After having been here almost 18 months, and now returning after an extended absence, I’m taking a second look around for things I might have noticed the first time and passed off, or simply missed altogether. Today let’s talk street art.

Mexico is known for vibrant colors, so one quickly gets used to bright orange tiles or electric purple walls. In addition to that, local government and business joins in, sponsoring or advertising public art which is rather outstanding in my opinion. Let’s take a look!

This work of art is directly across from the entrance of the church and just one block off the main square. The individual skulls are decorated in honor of the names of deceased loved-ones, in accord with Mexico’s long-running Katrina fascination (more about that back here). This piece was completed by Efren Gonzales, probably our most esteemed local artist.

Trying to sell beer? Put the bottles out front on a desert scene with cactus and agave plants! The mural even has a street lamp, but notice the real street light pole on the left is also partially painted!

Here floral designs draw your attention to the windows where clothes are the main attraction. Yes, nearly every window had bars on it, but the elaborate bars can become a form of artistic expression of their own.

This is a main cross street in the village. Notice the clever use of strong color and the multiple flags and languages. Even the planter out front (to prevent parking) has developed a little painting.

We just finished an election season. Why use small yard signs when you can paint the entire side of your building to show your support? I haven’t seen any of these signs defaced, either. This particular sign was for a candidate who lost; I wonder how long it will stay up?

Even the public restrooms are a blank canvas just waiting to be discovered.

The skate park has gone “goth” in its latest painting. It gets re-done several times a year.

Here is the wall to the panteon, or cemetary, which has a katrina and a whimsical cut-away view of the inside. In a similar vein, the following painting on the exterior wall of a business uses the same “exposed brick” approach.

Even homeowners get into the act. This last painting celebrates neighborhood characters and fiestas.

I have seen such public art before NOB, but usually in larger cities. Ajijic may have more than its share as it is an artsy town, but murals and public art exist even in the smallest pueblos.