Saying good bye to the North

I check out my new home today and new work today. It is in Southern Alberta ( I am from the north and that means something) I won't talk about work because this space is not about work, even though work is a part of who I am I don't want it to take over....and neither do you, I can blab on and on and on about work because I love it so and  I don't want to do that to you.

It was as I had thought and remembered from a drive down here long ago, no trees. The few trees that managed to survive look sad, crooked, wind beaten, brittle and slowly drying to death, they look like they have given up hope and are just waiting for death. The land has been hayed over and over, raped of all its nutrients, it looks dried up too. The terrain is hilly and full of valleys, which  would be beautiful covered in canola or flax but it's all hay. I don't see any wild life, not even a skinny coyote, there is no place to nest and hide for any wild life.

There are roads everywhere and people everywhere, on the 4 lane highway that is squeezed in between the hay fields cars pass me on both sides. I can feel the negative energy they give off, I cringe at the thought of having a 15 minutes commute to work every day, it's only 15 minutes, people do it all the time I tell myself, but I cringe. In the afternoon it will be during rush hour, I almost cry in my car as I think of this. All those people on the road, some had a bad day at work, some hate their job, lots hate their job, some in a hurry to get to their second job, some in a hurry to get home, all in a hurry to get home, some talking on their phones, some are texting, some have cranky children in the car, some are drugged, drugged so they can keep up with rat race they are in, some  drugged so that they don't kill themselves....and here am I, in front of them, trying to keep myself from crying as I am singing along with Anna Gabriel as she sings the Clieto lindo and telling myself that once those 3 trees have green leaves this scenery will look so much more alive.

 I realize on this trip that being from the north is more than just being able to live without a Walmart and a starbucks, or shopping at a mall, it's more than living in a place where everyone knows your name and all your business. It's about the vitality of life, things are so alive in the north. If you are not careful a deer or a moose will run you over on the road, rabbits will steal your carrots in your garden, the beavers will block your waterways, the birds will wake you in the mornings and the bears will steal your garbage....and the trees, oh the trees, tall majestic proud trees, no end to the trees, trees give off oxygen and oxygen gives life, so much life. The north is so alive.

I check out the campground where I have chosen to life, well, not really chosen, I don't have too many choices. My glamper is too old to be allowed into the "RV Parks". Which makes no sense to me, these RV parks with their weekly potluck dinners and shuffle board  and bridge tournaments are nothing more than old folks homes, and now my rig is too old for the old folks home?.

So I check out the place, it's on a farm (a hay farm) it's cute and quaint enough but of course not enough trees for my liking (I promise I will not whine forever about the lack of trees in my life now) Maybe he will let me plant some trees. The units are parked facing each other which means my view out of my front windows will be of the rig in front of me, I have never had to have curtains in my windows. There is no chance of me seeing the sunrise or sunset from my glamper. I'll be at work during sunrise anyway, maybe I can see the sunset from my paddle board on some lake, the sun sets early here in the south.

I realize that this reads like a long whiny tale, I sound so ungrateful. I shouldn't write when I am sad or have a heavy heart. There are some good things in all this. There are many lakes close by, paddling lakes and fishing lakes. My grand kids are a 3 hour drive away (instead of 8), first thing I will do is teach them how to plant trees, take care of trees and love trees. Maybe I will become the crazy tree lady, driving around with a trunk full of seedlings, like Johnny Appleseed...but different.

"glamping" Glamorous camping, instead of the plastic plates and cups and eating wieners on a stick and beans out of the can you eat off of china plates and crystal drinking glasses, you serve real meals out of vintage Pyrex while wearing a polka dotted hoop skirt (just kidding..maybe) all of which you have carefully collected from thrift stores or bought at yard sales. 

"glamper"  a old "vintage" camper which is restored, usually with a retro theme. Cushions and curtains are made to match your polka dotted hoop skirt (just kidding...maybe) Every glamper has a sewing machine inside it and usually a friendly long eared dog lying in front of the door.

My glamper is a 1974 Country Squire, it's beautiful. I bought it from the original owners who have loved it since they bought it in 1974. There is a sewing machine in the closet and a record player, it has flower stick on decals in the tub (so I won't slip) It has 2 bags of wool and a spinning wheel in it, an old (vintage) popcorn bowl just like my mom used to have ( you know the kind) , and a mismatched set of crystal wine glasses (my first big find at Value Village) . There is a long earned dog lying in front of the door, but he is not mine. I am still looking for some mismatched china plates and a polka dotted hoop skirt (just kidding...maybe). I am also looking for some Roy Orbison records or maybe Patsy Cline or Emmylou Harris. And.....she needs a name, or a song or title, a decal or a catchy phrase, something cute and happy to make people smile as they pass by ( you know, on that 4 lane road with all the drugged people) . Maybe "crazy tree lady" or "The Canexican" or maybe just "The country squire" What is a squire? I'll think on it.

"glampers" Are not allowed into most "RV parks" We are too cool for your typical old folks home, they are afraid we might start ........ I have no idea what they are afraid of. Maybe they are afraid of the brightly colored gooseberry pyrex bowl stealing the thunder at their color coordinated Tupperware potlucks, or my green polka dotted hoop skirt will look out of place against their Lulu Lemon capris (just kidding...maybe) or maybe they just don't like Roy Orbison. The only explanation they could give me is "it keeps the riff raff out". Really? Riff raff have sewing machines and wear polka dotted hoop skirts? And collect vintage pyrex? But I digress before I start offending people, I have some good RVing friends, they are good people too.

By the way, if you have a Roy Orbison record or a gooseberry pyrex bowl collecting dust in your basement please come forward now and I will trade you for a Tupperware bowl of your choice, my address is.....oh right, I have no address yet.

And by the way, I don't have anything against Lulu lemon pants, except that they cost a $100, do you know how much green polka dotted fabric you can buy for a $100?. Now that I have beaten the polka dotted thing to death I'll stop. 

hippi flowers, a blast from the past

My glamper last fall

Can't wait to bake a pie

As side from a paddle board and a bike that are on the back of my truck all I own is right here. 

Saying good bye to my home up north

once last glimpse behind me

ok,,,one  more

The South

Trees in the south

Add caption

Vintage pyrex, gooseberry is second from the left but they are all pretty

My record player

The last days

My last days have been very full. I packed my whole  house into plastic bags, where did all this stuff come from. I gave away my Pepto Bismal pink dress and threw away termite eaten shoes. I defrosted my fridge, which I am getting good at as you have to defrost your fridge here on a regular basis, not sure why but  we blame the humidity because it is custom to blame everything on it, just like how in Peru we blamed everything on the altitude. (before blogging)

I tried to walked the beach with a sense of gratefulness instead of sadness,  then while I was meditating on how amazing my life is a herd of handsome horsemen picked me up and invited me to eat carne asada with them,  normally I wouldn't let a herd of horseman pick me up, but they weren't headless and there was carne asada...nuff said.

 I helped my Mexican sister and brother build a palapa at sunset on the beach way into the dark of the evening.

 I walked in the water and splashed around in the bioluminescence plankton one starry night, plankton only comes out to play when the stars are bright. I sat on the beach in the dark with a good friend another night, we talked of hopes and dreams and how they change with the times and he told me stories of being at sea at the night while I ate ice cream and he smoked marijuana.

 I sat on a pail in another friends bus, we drank tea and talked about going to Chili together where he would sing on the streets and  I would knit gypsy shoes, while we talked his dog was giving birth under the bed to 11 puppies, we can hear her licking them, we look out the window into the dark night and see the glow of the surf curling up on the shore and lights from the light house twinkling, we both can't believe we are here. 

 I cruised down main street alongside the malecon in Mazatlan on the back of yet another friend's motorcycle as the salty air blew through my hair I couldn't believe that this was my life, this is how I live, how unreal is that? This is my new normal.

 I sit at the hotdog stand and ate my last Mexican hotdog and watch a volleyball game in progress, the women there give me tips on how to keep my Spanish fresh while in Mexico, listen to Spanish music of course, they rattle off names of their favorite singers, most of which I forget later.

 I lay in my hammock with another friend and on our Iphones we look up Spanish music, we look up information on bats (because they were flying all around us), we look up what racoons like to eat besides mangoes, we  look up Chichalacas, we look up how many kms long Italy is and how many days it would take to explore it on a motorbike, we compare the Canadian government to the Mexican government.

 I say good bye to my neighbour, I compliment her on her new hairstyle, she tells me where the shop is in Mazatlan where I can buy hair just like hers.

We had one more party on the beach, It's "mothers" (my Tia) birthday, she is 70 something years old, we had head tacos, beans, ceviche, escavechi, and of course cake. The music was loud, the moon was big and the waves were tall. My Tio kissed my Tia under his cowboy hat, she blushed and slapped him (like you slap a cute puppy) he laughed and took her hand and danced with her like he was dancing with her for the first time. My Tio danced all night, when he couldn't find a partner he danced alone. I stood at the bar and looked down at my family and some of my neighbours all together one last time before I leave, it was sad and comforting, comforting to know that when I come back they will still be here. My Mexican brother sends me a text,  he is lonely tonight and  he wants me to send him pictures, he couldn't be here tonight. I text him pictures and a videos and chat with him all night. At one point I move towards the outer edge of the party and slowly slip into in the dark, I walk alongside the tide a bit before I head home. The tide always looks so magically in the dark, even without plankton it glows a bit.

 The vegetable guys makes a big deal about selling me my last papaya and limes, I can't afford to eat them in Canada. 

I go to say good bye to another friend, we hug and I say "have a nice life", he laughs and says "thats a lousy good bye" I know, I suck at good bye, I prefer to just sneak away.

 I go say good bye to my Mexican sister, we agree we won't cry, however, as  I walk away she ask me what time her dad is driving me to the airport, I say 10 am, she says "maybe I'll stop by for a quick cry". She doesn't show,

 I cry later as the plane takes off, the person sitting beside me thinks I've left a lover behind, and I have. Oh Mexico, how I love thee.

 I recover soon as I think of my new life about to unfold in Canada, a new job, my new vintage home (one with wheels), a whole new area to explore on my bike and my paddle board. My grandkids will live closer, I can teach them to fish, ride a bike and paddle. Will I have a garden? Maybe. Will I wake up to the sounds of birds, I hope. I will be living in the south, less daylight, less sun, will I miss it, probably. Will I be too busy exploring to notice, I hope. The forests aren't as thick and the trees not as tall but will the prairies and the ranch lands have something new to woo me, we'll see. I like to be wooed. Maybe the waters and the fish will win my heart. I hope. 

Chano's burgers, go there. 

Cruzin downtown Mazatlan

The enchanted palm forest

when your cab and box aren't aligned....no problem

See you in Canada 

Mermaid in training

Last winter was the first time that I spend time in the water, learning to swim. I had a very patient teacher, I was not a good student. Then one day I connected, I felt the water, I smelt it, it was deep in my skin, I felt it in my hair and tasted it on my lips, then I became determined. I was ok, then one day I made a mistake and got nailed hard by a big wave, the sea swallowed me and spit me out. I was fine, but it slowed me down. Then I went back to Canada, no more swimming. Until this year. I was more determined, I had no coach or partner, I was on my own.

I went to Los Chivos, the most south point, there's a little bay with no waves, the water is crystal clear, you can see the bottom, the sand, the pebbles, the little fish and the occasional manta raya. I was there 2-4 times a week. Swimming is not the problem anymore, it's my breathing that is the problem. I am no longer afraid of the water, I love it, I jump right in, no tippy toeing, I want the water on me, sliding off my skin as I push myself through it. It's so soft and silky, like swimming in a tub when you have used one of those bath salt bombs. I leave it on me when I get home, I don't shower until the next day. I love it when my bed sheets smell like sea.

There is a pizza place, they have cold cocos and beautiful garlic pizza, and a trampoline by the sea, you can jump on it to dry yourself off before walking home. I swim, eat, lay on a lounger, swim again, and sit around until I am dry. I meet a new friend there this year, she has a restaurant too, good fish. A wonderful Christian women who love to talk about scripture. She cooked a lobster dinner for me and some other Canadian friends of hers before we left. It was very special, it was at sunset and we watched a cruise ship leave on our way home. When I am lounging I imagine opening a surf shop of sorts. I would have a juice/smoothie/milkshake bar, no food, I would rent out paddle boards and other beach toys, no one else on the beach has this. I would have my Mex sister's menu and she could deliver her food over.  I would have a paddle instructor on hand, he would be handsome and single, he would massage my neck in the daytime and serenade me in the evening while we salsa dance in the plankton....ops, different dream never mind.

I should continue swimming when I get home, I can't imagine swimming in a pool, indoors, that smells like chlorine, kids pee in there, old men spit in there and who knows what the staff do in there. I need to find a shallow lake, it won't taste and smell like the ocean but I just need to swim so I don't lose momentum.

The bay at Los Chivos, photo from the web

Drying my clothes

A shitty Situation

It's spring, you know what that means right? Soon the people will want to golf....sigh! :( 

here is a bunch of plants that have all become very close friends

I have been eating mangoes for a month, started with one ripe one everyday, then 2 ripes ones, then 3, now I have about 8 ripe ones a day, I am the mango lady, no one leaves my house with a few mangoes. 

I nominate the bougainvilleas to be the most beautiful plant in the whole......it wows me all the time 

there are 2 more bunches of bananas in my back yard. 

Freezing mangoes for my room mate who is away on a Tuna boat....who by the way I really really miss when he is gone. He has turned out to be an amazing room mate...well not "turned out" he always was amazing I"m sure, it just took a while to get over my Canadian tendencies. 

mucho mangoes

mango shakes every day....sometmes twice a day

Let me tell you about the mango tree. First, it's the biggest mango tree on the Island (maybe) It's 30 plus years old (maybe). It's a little crazy (not maybe).

It had mango on it before it was mango time. If you take the horse and wagon tour of the Island the wagon master will drive you past my house and show you this tree and he will tell you it is crazy. Tourist get driven past my house all the time just to look at the mango tree. I should really put a tip jar out there (to help pay for my ceiling)

Now you need to understand how much everyone loves mangoes. A lot. Here is what happens all day.
The birds get up there and peck at the mangoes until they fall down. (it hurts to get pinged in the head with a mango). They eat mangoes all day, now, what happens when you eat mangoes all day? You shit all day! All day!
At night the rats come (yeah I didn't know I had rats either), they eat mangoes all night and ....... Shit al night.
Then the raccoons come and climb the tree and eat mangoes all night and .......shit all night.
The Iguanas really really like mangoes too, and they REALLY shit. And they eat day and night. (double shit)
So now there are mango pits and mango peel and half eaten mangoes lying everywhere and then the whole back yard is full of fruit flies.....lots of them, and i am sure they shit too.
So....3 times a day at least I am washing down my brick back yard and burning incense to cover the smell of shit.
I have been putting poison out for the rats, which they eat and I have a found a dead rat or 2, however it just seems like I am feeding all the Island rats.

A few days ago I got a friend to get up on the roof of my house to get some high up there mangoes. I tell him to make sure he gets them all. He says he only wants to pick the ripe ones, I say no, get them all, the greens ones ripen in the house, He argues with me, and says that if you pick unripe fruit it hurts the tree and will be bad for your spirit....huh? I say I am not looking for a spiritual experience right now, I just want the shit to go away.

Now, please understand that I am not "complaining" here about having mangos, that would sound ungrateful and petty and THAT might just be bad for my spirit, I am only reporting on what it is like to have a crazy mango tree in the yard.

when the ceiling falls

Even in Paradise bad things happens....sometimes. Imagine my surprise. I come from being on the mainland all day. I need to go to the beach, most days I want to go to the beach, but when I come home from the mainland I NEED to go to the beach, It seems I have to wash the city vibe off of me. So I am in a hurry to get out of the house, but I need to use the bathroom first....quickly I say to me. This is what the bathroom looked like. WHAT!

A piece of concrete from the ceiling fell down and smashed my sink right off the wall.

See all the little cracks in the concrete, that means its not done falling, my bedroom, bathroom and kitchen ceiling is very cracked.

So operation "fix ceiling" will happen while  I am in Canada. Which means I have to pack my whole house into plastic bags because the dust will be Guynormous (yes thats a word) it means really really much.
Which means operation "pack house into plastic bags" is happening right now.....well not right this moment, right now i am sitting here in my living room (the only safe place in the house) drinking coffee and listening to the roosters waking up the Island.

The New Old Bull

 My Mexican sisters restaurant "El Torro Viejo" (the old bull) got torn apart from the hurricanes that came through before I got here and she was a little slower in rebuilding that the rest. The biggest setback was the stove that got destroyed and of course the palapa and bathrooms.....all destroyed.

poor Old Bull

The Fridge

Where the kitchen used to be

What a mess

All has been rebuilt, bigger and better. Bathrooms have tiled floor and walls, (I know....how fancy) but no roof so you can still see the sunset from the toilet, the stove is new and beautiful, new fire pit has been built, we have lots of shelves and a much bigger work space. We have a fridge, a stereo, we have a concrete floor (not sure I like this yet)  and the dishwashing station has been built to fit me, everyone else has to stand on a pop crate to use it, looks like I am expected to work here awhile yet.

What didn't change....the knife with the broken tip is still there, our plates still don't match, the forks are still bent, extension cords are still stung out everywhere, the view is still breath taking, the food still amazing, water still over flows in the pila once in a while, the people.....all the same, albeit a year older which is only noticeable on the 8 year old who just turned 9, and the cat looks a bit more mature. The dog had puppies again and is pregnant again, and the hammocks are still there. 

Lovely stove and shelving. Stove has a deep fryer which is where sister stores her shoes and purse and anything else of value. A real Mexican restaurant does not submerge when deep frying. My sister uses new oil for every order, so a deep fryer is not practical. This is why her fish and shrimp are better than anywhere else....my opinion

New shower

The old sink survived the storm

Love  the big long prep table

Triple BBQ and a double pila, sister is standing on a crate

the new double pila, one side is for cleaning fish, how awesome is that. However, I do see a problem, the drain holes are very small, and there isn't mush slope.....oh well. 

And of course I am still the beach inspector......my hammock.