On a gloriously sunny and clear Monday morning, with a cooler packed with soft drinks, cheese, crackers, apple slices, peanut butter and cake, off we go with three friends and our dog into the mountains on our quad runners. Nothing could be more perfect. The water is running in the river streams now—waterfalls and pools make for a refreshing and spiritual adventure. Nature at its finest!

 

 

Tanya rides her own Harley at home in Canada, so she is comfortable on her quad here in the mountains. She goes fast. Really fast. Her free spirit and willingness to make her own adventures? Inspirational! Good on ya, Tanya.

Her husband, Eric, is all for it too. Towering over all of us at around 6’4” (maybe more), he takes life in his hands and molds it into whatever he wants. Well, almost whatever he wants—he is mortal after all. But with their guidance, our neighbor, Blaze and Greg and Isabela and I had a day to remember. The mountains of Baja Sur are spectacular, especially this time of year.

 

Our buddies are old hands at this, and provided us with a guided tour, complete with dust masks and goggles.

Nothing like a beautiful day in the mountains after the rain has poured there all summer long, not to mention the rain brought to us by Hurricane Odile. The roads are surprisingly good. Better, in fact, than the ones around town here, that’s for sure.

 

 

The first thing that happened to Tanya was a run-in (or should I say run-over?) with a rattlesnake. Yup. She didn’t see it in time and ran right over it. She and Eric put it in a bag to take home for skinning. Gee, I never would have thought of that.

 

 

If you ride in the lead, you don’t get that much dust. Anywhere else along the line is dusty, even when you leave lots of room between you and the one in front of you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Isabela had her first taste (literally and figuratively) of fresh mountain water. Could a dog be more happy? I don’t think so. Jumping, splashing, swimming and barreling down the road in the back of our little Polaris side-by-side made her the happiest dog in Baja.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are so glad we followed our dreams to retire in Southern Baja. Life is sweet–one adventure after another.

 

 

 

The Orphanage in Todos Santos: “Hogar del Niño” (Home of the Child)   http://www.hogardelnino-baja.org

Armed with scissors, paper, stickers, glitter tape, and pre-made pop-up book pages, we made our way through a river of happy, smiling children. My girlfriend, Tanya, introduced me to the Hogar del Niño today. We put together some craft supplies from our personal cupboards and bought more at a local papaleria–a tiny stationery/craft store. The small space in the store held so many paper products and children’s books and goodies. I’ve often thought about going to the local orphanage to volunteer some time, but didn’t want to go by myself. I’ve been here four years and finally made it. Whew!

What a wild and crazy, but wonderful time!

 

As we pulled into the parking area, the children swarmed us at Tanya’s van. They were all smiles and hugs for Tanya who has been there several times (all by herself too! She’s no sissy). It didn’t take long they were hugging me too. We also had a box from our neighbor full of clothes, candy, an old VCR/DVD player, The Lion King video, and a boom box complete with Michael Jackson and Carrie Underwood CDs. One of the girls, about 12, held up the CD next to her own pretty face and pointing to Carrie Underwood she said in English,  “This is my sister!” Then she broke into uncontrollable laughter.

The kids were eager to see what else we had and got started cutting and pasting and coloring before I could even get everything out of our bags. A mini riot of little arms and hands, getting busy–without any prodding whatsoever.

 

I’ve not been around 20-25 little kids for quite some time, and I have to say it was WILD–in a good way! a very good way! Fifteen minutes into the organized chaos, I spilled a big bottle of glue onto the table. I screamed like a good teacher would, “Oh great! I spilled the glue all over the place.” Tanya just kept on working with her little charge and told me not to worry. Oh well. I picked up the paper holding the spilled glue and started off to the restroom. Not good. The wind rattled the paper and the glue ran off onto the cement. A huge puddle of glue. Kids scurrying about without a care in the world and I’m on my hands and knees. A boy about 6 says, “Oh my God!” Laughing  I ask,”Donde está el baño?” Twelve little arms point the way.

 

I make my way there trying not to spill more glue and what do I find in the bathroom? A little girl with flour in her hair and on her face and shoulders. Huh? I guess she was seeing what she could come up with for Halloween? There weren’t any paper towels, so I took a tiny bit of toilet paper and ran back to the glue spill. Then I ran back to the bathroom to wash the glue from my hands and shirt. The little girl with flour all over her was in the shower room getting clean again.

 

 

 

 

One of the older boys, probably about 11, communicated only by pointing and making a single sound. He was content to put glitter tape in a framework around his card. That was all he wanted. Okay, good enough for me.

Happy and active, the others shared the three pair of scissors, what was left of the glue and the myriad of supplies we brought for them. Not one argument or disagreement all day. Just sweet, busy little people being creative. It was the quickest two hours of my life. Tanya and I had made 26 cards for them to make an alphabet book, and all the pages got made, but somehow I didn’t make it back with all 26–guess they squirreled them away in their spot in the dorm. Now the book I’m putting together only has about 11 pages of random letters. Ah, the beauty of it.

 

 

 

 

 

Leaving meant lots of hugs and the refrain, “Hasta Luego” (see you later). And yes, we will see each other later…maybe Monday, in fact. After all, it was so much fun.

What’s your thing? Yoga? Surfing? Painting? Fishing? Writing? Photography? Hiking? Well, you’ve come to the right place: Baja California Sur. (Southern Baja California) The Pueblo Magico, Todos Santos, and the surrounding area is rife with artists and outdoor enthusiasts. That’s what drew us here. (Well, to be completely clear, Greg did not come here for the art. Or the yoga. He came here for the surfing. I came here for all the other stuff). It’s what draws a lot of people here, mostly in the high season which is around November-May. The summers are hot and humid and there are bugs galore, so the faint of heart “go home” when it heats up. Not a bad thing really, as it is a lot more quiet and peaceful without all the part-timers and tourists. We must be getting old. We like the tranquil, serene times. Queremos que sea muy tranquilo.

Our fans have been going steady for six months. This was a particularly horrible summer if you are adverse to humidity and high heat. Los Mexicanos we know who have lived here their whole lives say it was one of the worst in recent memory. We must have consumed 25 big glasses of ice water a day. Maybe more. The sweat literally dripped from our entire bodies, so we had to keep pouring el agua down our throats. During the last six months we bought a big bag of ice every couple days, and I even made ice cubes in our freezer to keep up with our demand. Oh Lordy, it was a hot one.

But summer is officially (and realistically) over now, though the bugs have not read the memo. They are still here. I have heard of many cases of Dengue Fever too. So far we have not succumbed. At least the humidity is down and we don’t have to use our fan at night for sleeping. Whew! Still no blankets though. The lowest it’s been in the middle of the night is 71 degrees F. I know this because we have a really cool clock that projects the time and outdoor temperature onto the ceiling.

 

Art, Art, and More Art

I have no pretense of being an artist myself, but I love to play with all things art. There are lots of art galleries and artists of all types congregate here. If you are looking for pottery, jewelry, oil or water color paintings, sculpture, mosaics…you name it, it’s here. There are opportunities for classes too. I have taken two classes with the popular artist, N.E. Hayes. She is a multi-talented woman who offers two different classes, and to begin she serves Mexican coffee (with Mexican cinnamon) with homemade bread, and later she prepares an extraordinary lunch for her participants. She is an artist mostly known for paper tile mosaic works has been residing in Todos Santos for over 23 years. Besides sharing her talent for visual and culinary art, she is an interesting person who cares deeply about the earth and the community. She’s a giver. Being in her presence is a gift. Check out her website: http://www.nehayles.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you don’t look at anything else, please go to her poster page. You won’t be sorry. http://www.nehayles.com/new/posters.html

“Our Mother is happy when we care for Our Planet”

–well said, don’t you agree?

We’ve been walking early in the morning on the beach in front of our house. When I say early, I mean REALLY early…stars out, still dark. It’s cooler at 5:45AM and there aren’t any bugs out yet. The breeze is delightful, not too hot, not too cold–just right.  Although these mornings the moon is merely a crescent, it still puts out some light, but we have to watch our step. We are using a “chuck-it” to throw a tennis ball for our 2 year old German shepherd, and she finds it with her super sense of hearing. We are the ones having trouble finding it after she puts it down. It’s so dark! Ha ha. You probably think we’re crazy, and maybe we are. I’ve been accused of that before. My students used to say, “You’re crazy, Mrs. F., but in a good way.”

Yesterday we found seven new turtle nests. For the last month or so, we’ve marked all of the ones we’ve found using a circle of sticks; there is an abundance of sticks now since the hurricane winds and rain and blew and washed them all down the arroyos to the beach. Handy, I’d say. We see the mom turtle tracks going up from the water and when we locate the nest, we can see her tracks going back down to the ocean. The sand is soft and disturbed where she has deposited her eggs and it is in a circular shape. We mark them so the stupid people who drive all over the beach won’t run over them.

We believe most of these nests are of the Olive Ridley variety. They are the smallest of the sea turtles and they are listed as endangered.

Yesterday we found the last four baby turtles of one of the hatchings! It is fascinating to watch the little ones on their way to the water. They are vulnerable and have a perilous journey to reach the ocean. Even though it is against the law to drive vehicles on the beach here, people do it all the time.

 

 

In the process, they may run over nests. Even if they don’t drive over the nests, they leave huge ruts from their tires. The little babies have to traverse the obstacles all the way down to the water. The tire tracks made by thoughtless humans make it harder than it needs to be. Once in the water, the shore break causes them even more trouble. They finally get into the water and next comes a big crashing wave to push them back onto the shore. Sometimes they get upside down and can’t right themselves. Of course we can’t just leave them like that, can we?

 

 

 

Holding a baby turtle in my hand is one of the biggest thrills I’ve had in my life. Oh, and don’t worry. Our dog does not bother the nests or the turtles when we come upon them. I do have to admit that we sometimes “help” the little ones into the water; sometimes wading out in between waves to give them a head start. This helps eliminate the issue of getting pushed back up onto the beach. According to what we’ve read, only about 1% make it to adulthood.

 

 

Living here affords us the pleasure of witnessing these miracles for ourselves. Not just on TV or through pictures in a book. We are blessed, to say the least. The whales are going to start showing up soon too.

 

**************

All of the the following is from National Geographic.com: http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/reptiles/olive-ridley-sea-turtle/

“Olive ridleys have nesting sites all over the world, on tropical and subtropical beaches. During nesting, they use the wind and the tide to help them reach the beach. Females lay about a hundred eggs, but may nest up to three times a year. The nesting season is from June to December…Hatchlings, most of which perish before reaching the ocean, are preyed on by crabs, raccoons, pigs, snakes, and birds, among others. Adults are often taken by sharks.”

SAD, BUT TRUE: If you want to see a  30 sec. video showing their travail to reach the water, go to: http://video.nationalgeographic.com/video/turtles-baby-predation?source=relatedvideo

Fast Facts

Type:

Reptile

Diet:

Omnivore

Average life span in the wild:

50 years

Size:

2 to 2.5 ft (62 to 70 cm)

Weight:

Up to 100 lbs (45 kg)

Protection status:

Endangered

Did you know?

Male olive ridleys can be distinguished from females by their tails, which stick out beyond their carapace.

Size relative to a 6-ft (2-m) man:

“Females aren’t sexually mature until about ten to twelve years of age. They nest every one to three years and may lay several clutches of eggs each season. Highly migratory animals, they often travel hundreds of miles (kilometers) to reach their nesting beach, usually the same beach they hatched from.”

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From National Geographic: http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/reptiles/kemps-ridley-sea-turtle/

 

 

 

 

We are rebuilding our palapa. Or rather, we are having our palapa rebuilt. That’s more like it. I’m not doing the work. Greg’s not doing the work, unless you count the fact that he is an integral part of designing the new one. I suppose I should give him that credit; he is way more involved in the rebuild than I am. I feed the workers my homemade cookies and breads, and I make them protein shakes and keep them in ice water. Now isn’t that worth something? 🙂

 

 

It’s noisy out there–grinders are not a pleasant sound. It is the sound of progress though, so I’m good with it. I just turn up my iPod and drown them out. John Mayer is singing to me, inviting me to move with the music. I have my iPod set to shuffle my tunes, so I get a good mix. Next up: Sia. She is so cool. The way she puts her message together is uniquely intriguing, and her voice is perfection. Find her on YouTube, you won’t be sorry. But I digress.

The new palapa is going to have bigger, stronger posts. They will have diagonal bracing and beefier anchors. Go ahead wind. Blow. We’re going to be ready!!!

 

Actually, the whole neighborhood is abuzz with construction. Our neighbors behind us are building a new house. Theirs is one of those POUNDED EARTH structures. OMG! It is going to be so beautiful. What a process; it is just exactly what it says it is–pounded earth–giving it an organic look that fits right in and is so gorgeous. They add a little bit of color to sand and concrete and then literally pound it within the forms.

 

Our new neighbors are going to have a most gorgeous home. We have had the good fortune to meet and get to know them a little. It is going to be so sweet to have them here.

 

The people who have a house next door have a lot of work to do now too. All their palapas blew apart, leaving the skeletons. Not the kind you find on Halloween, but skeletons just the same.

 

The days turn into weeks and there will be new buildings and new windows going in, new palapas everywhere around here. The trees are growing new shoots and life moves on in its own way. We are learning to move on in new ways too. Resilience is the word of the day.

 

Cookie, anyone?

With big dreams, our friends, a great couple from Truckee, CA, bought this rancho up in the mountains about 35 minutes from us. I love dreamers, especially when they act on their dreams like Gene and Brenda did.

These friends aren’t here right now; they are back in Truckee working. I don’t know anyone who has gone up there recently, and Greg and I have been wondering what the rancho looks like after the hurricane. So many trees around us were stripped clean when Odile came through. We haven’t had time to go up and check because we’re so busy with our own clean-up, getting things fixed for a few of our neighbors, and now we are rebuilding our palapa.

The last time we visited their rancho, named La Cuesta Farms, it was so beautiful. (I hope it still is). The drive to the mountains was fun in our little, red Ranger.

 

They have lots of old mango trees, citrus, ciruela plums, other fruits as well as flowers and a garden. The rancho includes a couple of outbuildings, an outdoor kitchen and a well on the property that serves a few other ranchos in the vicinity.  The cacophony of sounds you hear are of the goats and cows nearby, plus the mountain breezes shaking the leaves in the trees that are always alive with chirping birds. Two little kitties greeted us with very loud meows. The neighbors were feeding them while Gene and Brenda were not there, but the kittens were happy to have some human company I guess. We brought our lunch and after a tour we sat down to eat. Funny how food tastes better in the mountains.

 

We are hoping La Cuesta Farms is okay after the hurricane. It is a sweet spot tucked in the mountains in Southern Baja.

 

Many months ago, Brenda, Greg and I went up there on another beautiful day and I took a lot of pictures. The mangoes weren’t ripe yet, but they were hanging heavy in the trees. Same with the ciruela plums. The plums are tiny, have large stones (pits) in them and are green on the tree. After you pick them, some varieties turn yellow, some red. You need a lot of plums to make jam! When the time was right, the picking began. Brenda saved a bunch for us and I had so much fun cooking them down, making agua fresco and jam. The aroma of the fruit filled the room, and it got steamy and sticky in the kitchen! That’s half the fun, right? It was all totally worth the effort (work!) it took to remove the pits and skin. I have a lot of pulp saved in my freezer for making more jam.

Baja is a lot more than desert and beaches, as you can see. The tropical storms and hurricanes may come and go, but we’re staying.

Dealing with the Aftermath of Hurricane Odile

The heat and humidity is so bad that I find myself dreaming of a windy, rainy, gray day in the Pacific Northwest as a happy thing. Who woulda thunk it? It’s been in the upper 80s and lower 90s with 78% plus humidity for months. No relief. It doesn’t do any good to take a shower when you come out as wet as you were a mere two minutes after you dry off.

After the hurricane, the bugs exploded in numbers unimaginable. Unless you’ve experienced this you can’t appreciate how bad it is. Picture yourself dripping with sweat and a black cloud of bugs swarming your entire body. When we attempt to work in the yard (it really needs work), before much of anything gets accomplished, we surrender and run to the house to get under a fan. You may find it inappropriate for an English teacher to say, but IT SUCKS.

We drove our little Polaris Ranger to San Pedrito Point to check its condition and see if there was any surf. What a sad sight. The entire beach is littered with debris—some of it organic, some plastic, or other litter. The tide was high and pushed up close to the houses nestled there. We had to pick our way through the decaying trees and cactus that came down the arroyos along with lots of rubbish. It covers the beach. You see very little sand. It’s not a pretty sight like it was pre-hurricane, that’s for sure. I didn’t have my camera with me today, or I would include a picture. A picture is worth more than a thousand words in this case.

A few days after the tormenta changed our landscapes, I took pictures of the Los Cerritos beach where my husband usually surfs. I’ll include some of those. I’m guessing it will be a least a year before it gets even close to a normal beach scene. I haven’t heard any rumblings about the local government coming in to remove the debris and cart it off somewhere out of sight. If we were in the USA you can bet it would be taken care of. The area was hit so hard though. The people who used to have shelter are still the main concern. Power is being restored with a massive effort from all over Mainland Mexico. CFE (power company) trucks from as far away as Chiapas have come to the aid of Baja. The numbers of trucks and men working is an awe-inspiring sight for all of us who are here. Poco a poco—little by little—people work to get back to some normalcy.

 

 

The beach in front of our own house is the prettiest one around. It has lots of organic matter too, but right in front of us there are places that resemble pre-hurricane days. No surf though, as it is still a beach break. Sometimes we can get in a quick swim. The water must be 80 degrees, so it isn’t as refreshing as it could be, but hey! I’m not complaining. It’s the only place that doesn’t look polluted right now. I suppose looks can be deceiving, so we shower and rub our skin with towels after a dip. You never know.

 

We staked up all our trees and righted the things that were down. Some made it. Others didn’t. Our passion fruit vines will come back, (I hope) and we have a chance to prune them if the bugs would only cooperate and go somewhere else for an hour or two. We get a little cranky trying to work in the heat with bugs galore. A little cranky? Probably more like a lot cranky!!!

 

What we wouldn’t give for a day in the 70s with a nice, light ocean breeze, lazing in one of our hammock chairs under the little palapa on the upper deck. Ah, and topped off with a glass of limonada con hielo. (iced lemonade). Now wouldn’t that be a little piece of heaven?

 

 

 

Two weeks after the hurricane and we are still in the thick of cleaning up. Greg and I have washed most of our bigger windows and our sliding glass doors. The yard is looking pretty darn good, considering. My German shepherd and I walk the beach in the morning. I throw the ball for her and she is in absolute heaven. We allow the ocean to charge right up to us and we run and splash together. The sun is out in full force and the blue of the ocean has replaced the brown guck that it was after the storm.

 

Something close to a miracle has happened in Todos Santos. I saw it a few days after the storm and it was an unbelievable mess of organic matter, like plants and trees, littering the streets and houses. Other debris was heaped here and there. Most of the palapa roofs were a mess beyond repair or completely gone. Houses and cars were smashed by falling trees. But two weeks later it looks like a nice little town again. People are starting to sit together on their porches again and the little park in town is alive with children and parents.

It is my hope Todos will regain its charm and its lure. Those who desire a luxurious vacation may decide to go elsewhere. But for those who have always loved Todos Santos, I think there is still enough of it to love. The Hotel California and La Casa Toda, for example, are ready for business as usual. For the shop owners and the people who work in them, I am hopeful. On a selfish level I wouldn’t mind it being a bit more quiet this coming “high season”—November-April. But I have a feeling the Mexicanos will move on with a shrug and a smile. A hardy people, the natives of this area.

Restaurants are opening up again, now that the government has provided the town with power. It is impressive to see how much has been done in such a short time. Some dear friends of ours are taking us out to my favorite restaurant, La Casita, in TS tomorrow night to have an early celebration for my birthday. True to form, we continue to see life as something to celebrate. It makes my heart sing to see the happy faces of my neighbors in light of all they’ve been through.

My friend, Stephanie, came over a couple days ago and we took some time to just sit and visit. It was the nicest afternoon I’ve had in a long time. The sweet view from my outdoor living area is my (healing) cactus and palm trees and just beyond is the ocean. The waves keep pounding on the shore. The birds are back in the cactus and the trees and believe me, they have plenty to eat. It is unbelievable how many insects there are. I’m overwhelmed with the numbers.

We went over to our neighbors’ house for a pot luck dinner Firday night in honor of one of our young friend’s 42nd birthday. There were seven adults and two children enjoying the evening together—sharing stories of our experience during and after the storm. Laughing and commiserating with one another, we begin to get back to normal. When it was time for blueberry cobbler, we all sang Happy Birthday to Marc, and it reminded me of what is really important: sharing with others—marking special occasions and moving on with our lives.

The Mexicans here have a saying: Vive la paz—Live the peace. We can make our own peace, can’t we? We can do it together. Find joy in little things and share our talents and our strengths with others who are important to us. Let’s keep our loved ones close in our hearts. Let’s live the peace.

 

I’ve been in wind storms in the Pacific Northwest many times. I think every November we had high winds of 75mph or more, and I remember one particular Thanksgiving that it was so bad we were without power for a week. Old growth fir and cedars fell like match sticks. I had just put a nicely stuffed turkey in the oven when the wind and rain came and changed everything. That turkey had to be thrown out. One of our fir trees fell precariously close to our house.

But never have I experienced a full-blown (pun intended) hurricane. Hurricane Odile came to Baja Sur (Southern Baja) where I live on September 14, 2014. When it finally hit us, it was labeled a category 3. That means we had sustained winds of 135-150 mph. It hit land in Los Cabos (San Jose del Cabo and Cabo San Lucas) at 22.52 north latitude 109.56 west longitude. It made landfall just south of us.  El Gavilan neighborhood where we live is at 23.20 north latitude and 110.13 west longitude, so we got it bad. The Spanish word for hurricane is hurican, and the Spanish word for storm is tormenta. That’s what this hurricane has been. A torment.

Many times during the night I thought the glass doors and windows were going to give way, and we ran from door to door in our valiant attempt to bolster them. That was in between sopping up the water in every room of the house. It was so scary. The wind blasted, reverberated, resounded, raved, thundered and roared on through the whole of the night, bringing with it a torrent of water. We stayed up all night long during Odile’s “visit” because every window in our house leaked. The high speed wind and rain meant that we had 2” of water in every room of our house, and all night during the tormenta, we battled the water. It was 83 degrees in the house, even in the wee hours, and we were as wet as our floor, dripping sweat as we worked with towels and mops, a floor squeegee and our trusty little shop vac.The two of us did the best we could. Finally around 4:30 AM, we could do no more. The rain was letting up and so we fell into bed, totally exhausted. But we didn’t sleep very long. At 6:00AM we were up, back to work. Around 8:00AM we ventured outside to survey the damage.

Things had collapsed, crumbled, buckled, sagged, given way, crashed, and fallen into pieces. In our area, many old growth cardon cactus, some possibly as old as three thousand years, couldn’t take it. Now they are broken into pieces and sprawled onto the ground.

 

Our house is made from block and there is a lot of tied steel (rebar) cemented inside those courses of block. Thank the powers that be! I vividly remember the Mexican man who tied our steel, Burrito (his name is really Jose), telling me that our house was made to be muy fuerte (very strong). Thank you, Burrito. You did a good job. Mi Casa es muy fuerte, and we are some of the lucky ones. Some of the paint peeled off one small section of our overhang over the back door. We lost our beautiful tropical plants, our “green fence” of passion fruit vines, and some cactus. Our palms look like they’ve been through a hurricane!

Power poles and electric wires are lying all over the area.

While many rely on conventional electricity, we have a great solar system, so we have not been without power. When it is cloudy we have to use our generator to help to keep the batteries charged, but we are happy to have put in such a nice solar system. Many others who have solar power, lost their panels when the  sheer force of blasting wind lifted them off their roofs and blew them to smithereens. Our panels were spared.

Looks like our outdoor shower needs a shower! 

The large palapa carport (made from palo de arco sticks and palm leaves) we had in front of our garage is gone. The leaves held together well, but the hurricane pulled the huge support beam right out of the wall and then the cement post gave way as the whole thing fell onto our two cars. Until the palapa was taken away, we couldn’t go anywhere even if we wanted to. It took Greg two and one half days to get the whole thing taken apart. He is my hero. He did this exhausting work in 80-90 degree heat with 78% humidity, mosquitos and flies attacking him, dirt raining down on him from the leaves, and a sore back from a surfing accident three weeks ago. I helped as much as I could, but he did it mostly on his own, and we made two big piles of the good sections. Some happy news is that we were able to help others less fortunate with our labor and our palm leaf sections. Greg made two trips in our pickup, pulling our trailer, to haul the good sections to Todos Santos, and he was able to deliver them to three different families who lost their roofs. Now they can rebuild them and get roofs back over their heads. Donating like this makes all of us happy.

It’s been ten days now since we experienced the biggest hurricane Baja Sur has had in 98 years. I’ve got to say that I never imagined the devastation Mother Nature could bring. I remember seeing photos of Katrina and the damage done by her. Photos don’t tell the whole story. They do give you some sense of the suffering that comes from high winds and rain that a hurricane brings, but merely viewing pictures is the easiest way to experience such a natural disaster. Being in the thick of it is another thing altogether, and not one I’m eager to repeat.

The pueblos of Todos Santos and El Pescadero are mostly destroyed. Todos is (was) a town that draws a lot of artists and tourists. El Pescadero is about 10 miles farther south (where we live) and is more of a farming community. Both towns lost their baseball stadiums, and were without power and water. There was a huge coming together of neighbors helping neighbors work with clean-up. The military came to maintain order and brought food staples for distribution to anyone who needed them. We watched about a hundred people accepting little bags filled with flour, rice, dried beans, oil, and sugar. Most people use propane for cooking, so propane has been an issue too. But I don’t think anyone has gone hungry, what with the distribution from the army and neighbors’ generosity. Yes, there was a 10:00PM curfew imposed and there were some seedy characters looking to take what didn’t belong to them, but they were definitely in the minority.

 

 

The President of Mexico, Pedro Nieto, visited and made promises he has been keeping. Truck after truck has come from mainland Mexico on the ferry and traversed the rest of the way here to help with restoring electricity. Within a week they set up a bunch of huge generators for a make-shift power plant in Todos. It took ten days to get the same for El Pescadero, but now our little town has power too. Both towns are being cleaned up; it’s a government and community effort. It lifts our hearts to see how fast it is happening.

The government closed all the restaurants for health reasons. Without refrigeration for so long it was a concern that people would get sick from the unrefrigerated food. Dengue fever is a concern because of the mosquito problem, and we can only hope there will be some spraying in the stagnant pools to eliminate the nasty pests. Dengue fever is dangerous, can be fatal at its worst, and causes extreme pain at its least. There is no cure for it; if it doesn’t kill you, it has to run its course, which can take anywhere from two weeks to two months or more, depending on the strain.

The airport in Los Cabos was completely destroyed, the wreckage is unbelievable. Many of the roads in Baja Sur are fractured, cracked, torqued, and split. The dirt roads were pretty bad to begin with, but now many of those are simply impassable. A river rushed through them.

Some highway sections have given way making driving more difficult. I cannot tell you first-hand anything about Cabo or San Jose. We have been told things that make us sad. We’ve heard that Costco was completely wiped out by looters. I can understand when people’s homes have been destroyed and they are in need of food and water, but they are stealing more than groceries. They take jewelry, televisions and appliances; whatever Costco offers for sale was taken.

As we haven’t had much in the way of phone service and we have no internet, the news has been hard to come by. I was able to get into Todos Santos and go to a restaurant that has wifi, but the restaurant was closed. So a bunch of us sat on the sidewalk and were able to use our laptops for a few minutes. I was able to read and send a few emails before I just couldn’t stand the bugs a minute longer, but I found out from an email that my internet service won’t be back for a month. Everything was blown away. Except the bugs. Being incommunicado is strange after living in this age of technology for so long. I realize that I have become complacent, taking it for granted. I have new appreciation for such luxuries.

 

If you drive around here, you may think there is a new trend of having your plants lean to one side, or completely have a lie-down. Cesar, the guy who brought us all our plants and trees when we landscaped, came over and righted all the plants a few days after the hurricane, and he helped us tie up and brace the palms. There were a couple of banana trees that looked like they might make it, so he righted them too. We will have a new palapa built, but the plants will take time to heal and get back to where they were. We are more sad about the ruined landscaping than the palapa carport.

Remnants of our carport…now piles of palapa leaves and poles

To participate in the clean-up from the mess left in the wake of the storm, means working in hot and humid conditions. The bugs make it even worse. There are a bazillion hungry flies, mosquitos, and these things called bobos. They are a gnat-like insect that hover around your face in the hundreds. They get into your eyelashes, nose, ears, you end of inhaling or swallowing them and they love to go to any spot on your body that has a wound. For example: scratch a mosquito bite? It’s an invitation for a bobo to feast on you.  It makes sense to wear long sleeves and do like the Mexicans who put a handkerchieves on their heads before adorning their baseball caps, leaving the handkerchieves dangling down the sides of their faces and onto the back of their necks. If you don’t have tools in your hands, you can use a handkerchief to swish, snap, and swat all around your face and arms to keep the bugs off. It’s effective, but like I said, you can only do it if a hand is free for the handkerchief snapping exercise. Fatigue and stress has overwhelmed us.

One surprise we never expected was discovering the box in which we keep our important and legal documents wasn’t waterproof, and we found them soaking in four inches of water. They were sitting in that water for two days before we got around to investigating our “safe” box. Now we are trying to salvage them. Littering every surface all over the house are soggy papers as we attempt to dry them out.

 

At our neighbor John’s house, almost all the windows and doors were blown out. Broken glass is everywhere. Doors burst apart and blew away. John’s kitchen cabinet drawers flew open, and filled with water. All his hanging lanterns were ripped from their chains, and smashed to the floor. We found his refrigerator tipped over and door panels lying everywhere along with the broken roof tiles, stools and chairs. His curtains were blowing in the breeze through the openings that used to be his windows. His outdoor furniture sailed off as if it had a different picnic to attend. He’s lucky. He has insurance, and for what it won’t cover he has enough money for repairs. We live in a gringo neighborhood, and most of us have either an income or a retirement fund from which to draw for repairs.

 

Our Mexican neighbors do not have much. The homeless, hungry, and those without power and water, are suffering. The youngest and the oldest are the most vulnerable. I have seen strength and determination on the faces, in the eyes, and the actions of the people in Todos Santos and El Pescadero. People still know how to wave, smile, and laugh in times like these. Everyone wants to know how you fared, if you need help. While there has been great destruction, there has also been an amazing show of strength and generosity.

And I know one thing more: I am no longer a hurricane virgin.

On one of many trips to La Paz to the bank, we also saw a doctor about my husband’s ear drum fiasco (a whole other story). El sol–the sun– shines hotter in La Paz. The humidity is higher in La Paz. We turn into big, slippery, balls of sweat. Happily La Paz is a mere 1.5 hours from here on a beautiful highway, but it always promises to be hot. It was so much fun the first day; we thought visiting our friends at the hospital and the bank would be fun the next day too.

Soon after the doctor visit regarding the holes in Greg’s eardrum, we stop (in a bus zone) in front of a pharmacy where I jump out to purchase a prescription while Greg stays in the car with the car running. Greg has lost 90% of his hearing in his left ear and doesn’t hear the horrendous noises coming from the idling car. After my success in getting the prescription, I hurry back to the car. OMG! I have never heard such racket coming from a vehicle. I can’t believe my ears. A man waiting for the bus looks at me and points to the spewing smoke and pinches his nose with one hand and points to the car with the other. Well, as if the weather isn’t enough to make us cranky, the VW has decided to blow up. In a bus stop zone. On a busy street.

We call our friendly VW mechanic, Rogelio, who has patched up the Westfalia several times before, and his shop is conveniently located about a mile away. He kindly sends a nice young man, Rafael, aka Rafa, to our rescue. While waiting for Rafa, Greg investigates and suspects it is the alternator causing the ruckus.

Rafa arrives and after handshakes and introductions he comes to the same conclusion and he calls his friend who has a tow truck. Once our car is hooked up, Rafa invites us into his car and off the three of us go to Geraldo’s, the best VW repair shop in La Paz. At this point in the story, it is important for you to understand one tradition in the Mexican culture: start work early, take two-hour lunch breaks and come back to work till 7:00PM. We arrive right in time for their lunch break. We will wait for two hours in this stifling heat to find out our car’s fate.

By this time we are very hungry, so we head to the Chinese restaurant, called Comida China, down the street. La Paz is so international when it comes to food, and they love their Chinese restaurants. Oh sweet air conditioning. Ah, blissful air conditioning. It is 95 degrees in La Paz with a heat index of 107, so the air conditioning is blessed relief. After a long lunch of five different items that all look and taste the same, we stroll on the Malecón–a promenade or boardwalk along the seaside. Stroll makes it sound like fun, doesn’t it? The reality? Let’s just say that walking around La Paz in midday heat is something much less than fun.

The foot that I injured a year ago, doing Zumba in an exercise class, is killing me from all the walking. (I don’t realize at the time, but I find out later, that I have broken several little bones in my foot and it has not healed well). It is miserable in this heat, our van is broken down, and my foot is throbbing with pain.

We need to get out of the heat. Although it was great that we got towed, and that they would squeeze us into the car repair line-up, this is not my idea of a good time. After a long, grueling day of walking and waiting, we surprisingly get our alternator patched up and the capable guys at Geraldo’s get us back on the road at 7:45 PM. The mechanic’s parting words are a warning to us to replace the alternator belts sooner, rather than later. Greg says he has a new one in the van and will do it in the next week or so. We are on our way again.

………………………

We make it all of about three miles away. I hear a loud snapping noise. What’s that? You may have guessed it. The belt from the alternator has snapped and we must get off the road before the car blows an engine. We only run one red light and make one illegal U-Turn before pulling off the busy street. Well, well. We are in another bus stop zone…all I can think is thank God for bus stops. Being the bright and happy person that I am, I find this sort of funny in an ironic sort of way. We are driving a VW Bus and this is the second time today we are finding ourselves broken down in a bus zone.

Irony is a weird thing. It has the initial sense of being rather humorous, or at the very least coincidental, and then it hits you right between the eyes! It’s déjà vu. It’s The Twilight Zone. Oh, it’s irony all right, but it is not funny.

Greg drags himself from the car and finds that the water and coolant have spewed. These are signs of the real possibility of a blown engine. His reaction is one of fear and loathing for our bus. This just can’t be happening. It’s getting dark and traffic is horrendous. Dark does not mean cooler either.

Sweat is trickling down in places I’m too much of a prude to mention. This must be one of the more trying moments I can remember. My usual sunny disposition is being tested, and I’m failing the test. Greg never has a sunny disposition to start with, so it isn’t as big a pendulum swing for him.

We try calling Rafa’s friend, the tow truck guy, on his cell again and again, to no avail. Remember, we don’t speak Spanish. And it’s still really, really hot. Sunny Disposition Susie thinks, “This is such an adventure.” 

What the hell are we going to do now? In a moment of desperation, Greg just takes off walking. He’s going to see if he can find someone who can help us. He doesn’t have much of a plan really.  At least he’s doing something. I just can’t walk another step with my swollen, painful foot, and yell this to him as he’s dodging cars in the intersection on his way across this main street. “I’ll wait here!” I scream, but I know he doesn’t hear me because of that 90% hearing loss in his left ear, not to mention the horns honking as he runs in the street in search of whatever he is in search of.

Half an hour later he comes back to the car where I am all by myself on a busy street in the dark dripping with sweat. But my man has come back with more phone numbers for tow trucks. I don’t know how he did it, but he did.

Because I’m the so-called Spanish speaker in the family, it is my turn to be of use. I dial the first number. I’m muddling along with these people on the phone trying to explain our dilemma and working equally hard just to understand whatever they are saying at the speed of light, and holy crap! I am so hot!!!! My foot is swollen and throbbing and the lunch I ate (Comida China) is gurgling in my belly causing excruciating pain. What the hell? We’re broken down for the second time in one day, in a bus zone, calling for a tow truck!

Finally I get hold of Jesus. In Mexico many men are named Jesus. It’s pronounced Hay soos. But I think of it more as Jesus, as in the Son of God. I think, but am not sure, that Jesus understands me, what we need, and where we are. It’s a lot like praying.

We wait and we wait. Now we break into hysterical laughter. We’re going insane! It’s all like a bad movie and we are the stars of the show. After about ten minutes that seem like three days, Greg gets out of the car and decides to throw the remnants of our lunch in the trash. Thank goodness he does too, because lo and behold, there is Jesus in his tow truck! He’s been waiting around the other side of the building looking for us.

This particular Jesus is about 300 pounds, dripping with sweat, and has several missing teeth, but I swear to God I have never been so happy to see someone in my life. I jump out of the car and run to greet him. I stop short of hugging him and exclaim, “Oh, Jesus! Muchas gracias!!!” He is equally excited to see me, or maybe it’s just because I am so excited to see him. We all begin laughing for some reason, and I tell him, “Cinturon roto!” I’m pretty sure I just told him our belt was broken. At least I hope that is what I said.

He hooks the VW up and we squeeze into the front of his truck with him. I can’t be certain, but I could swear he has no headlights in his truck. We are going five miles per hour, listening to authentic Mexican music on his radio (the kind with accordions), and we get about a mile before the hydraulics begin to slip and the front end of our car is no longer riding high. Jesus applies his brakes, and in one swift motion which is impressive for such a big guy, he’s out and adjusting the hydraulics.

As we continue on our merry way, Jesus and I are doing our best to carry on a conversation in Spanish. I understand enough to know he asks me where we live and after I tell him vivimos en El Pescadero–we live in El Pescadero–, he wants to know where I was born. I only know he is asking this because we have recently practiced asking, “When were you born?” in our Spanish class last week. At this point I am getting pretty excited about being able to actually communicate with Jesus and I elbow Greg, as a way to point out to him how absolutely fantastic it is that Jesus and I are actually speaking in Spanish with each other, but Greg is so focused on the task at hand and he fails to feel the thrill.

Once we arrive at Geraldo’s (again) and Jesus disconnects the car, he seems concerned about what we are going to do next. Jesus wants to take us home. We live 1.5 hours away, so we decline his generous offer and we tell him we’ll be fine. The three of us heartily shake hands and Greg gives him 500 pesos for his trouble. Mucho gusto and hasta luego, Jesus! This means that we enjoyed meeting him, and we’ll see him soon. Why am I saying I’ll see a tow truck driver again soon?

It’s about 9:30PM. Now what? We go for beers (Greg) and limonada–limeade–(me). Back to the Malecón. More déjà vu. After a few drinks and some belly laughs, we are soon trudging to the VW that is sitting across from the repair shop. Now it’s 10:30PM, still in the 90s and still humid. Greg says, “You aren’t going to like sleeping in the van.” I know what he means. There is no breeze. The humidity is off the charts.

As fate or luck or God would have it, a great guy, Omar, that Greg met at Los Cerritos last week, has an identical VW van as ours, and he has also been at Geraldo’s, getting his oil changed or something.  Omar told us earlier in the day that he and his traveling companion were spending the night in the hotel across the street from the VW repair shop. In fact his Mexican friend, Lalo, owns this hotel.

As we approach our broken down VW, we see them all standing a mere fifteen feet away on the sidewalk out front of the hotel chatting. Oh thank God (again) Lalo says he has a room for us! And it’s got air conditioning and an internet connection. It also has three barking dogs and two crying cats, but it has a shower and a toilet and it is so clean it’s almost sanitary enough for surgery. Seriously clean. What a relief to have such a clean and comfortable room with a bathroom when you’re sick all night ridding yourself of the Chinese food you had for lunch.

I awoke next morning with a sty in my left eye and a big red spot on my face from an insect bite. I have bags under my eyes and I have no deodorant or clean clothes to put on. Before checking out of the hotel, we each take a shower and I even wash my hair. The hotel coffee is more than passable. We have to put on our stinky clothes from yesterday, but somehow we can’t wipe the smiles from our faces. The car gets its new belts and new coolant, and the mechanic tells Greg our engine is not ruined.

It has rained really hard in the night as we slept, and it continues raining all morning. Our world takes on the incredibly sweet smell of rain in the desert; trust me, there’s nothing quite like this sensory experience. We are driving through standing water on the roadways feeling genuinely blessed and marveling at the kindness of the people of La Paz. The total cost of two tows, repair, new belts and hotel stay is about $100.00 USD. We are more determined than ever to learn to speak Spanish, and to do whatever it takes to build our dream home in the Baja!

It will be a long time before I eat Chinese food again.

The troubles we were having here to get our house built are partly because of the Mexican way of doing business. This all started a few years ago. I actually wrote this piece during the time it happened.

……………………….

I guess we were pretty naive when we bought our property. What am I saying? I KNOW for certain we were. Nothing has happened as promised by our real estate agent. I know what you’re thinking. Who in her right mind trusts a guy trying to make a real estate deal? And by the way, I don’t know why they call them deals. As for real estate guys, in all fairness, our agent is a great guy who has helped us in many ways. He is someone we consider a friend. We didn’t ask the right questions, I know that much.

Because of where we are building (one tier away from the beach), we need an Enviro Permisso–environmental permit. It costs a mere (cough) $5,500.00 to obtain this “permission” to develop our property. To navigate the system we are working with an engineer who speaks not one word of English. The contract is in Spanish too. We do not speak, understand or read very much Spanish. You see where this is going.

The engineer, Jesus Jose Prieto, is a nice enough hombre–man, and I’m sure he knows something about the service he is supposed to provide to us, but he has not been able to procure what we need for this environmental permit. He said it would take about 4-5 weeks. Jesus took samples and photos of the cactus on our property. These photos were only of the cacti that are protected by the Mexican government. He did this part of his job in record time. But it has taken three long months just for him to inform us that our paperwork was not satisfactory. Instead, we also need to get a Power of Attorney from the bank that holds our fideicomiso. The title to our property is legally in a Mexico bank trust—a fideicomiso.  This trust is required of foreign land owners. In order to sign for all the permits we will need along the way, the bank is asking us to do a Power of Attorney. Huh? What? Well, this means we will be able to sign for ourselves for what was ours in the first place. We will need a variety of permits along the way. It seems that the fun will continue for a long time.

The bank’s requests are now our problems. They want all our documents in Spanish done by a certified translator and notarized by a notario–notary, who is a circuit judge, unlike a notary in the USA. In all fairness, I will take this opportunity to mention that we are in Mexico. Putting our docs in Spanish seems a reasonable request, but it costs more money and it is inconvenient. I know. I’m whining. As for the notario, he has special stamps and seals for our documents. The seals are beautiful too. Small children and the Mexican government love these seals. And who can blame them? They are shiny little works of art. After a couple of false starts, we did manage to obtain these documents, in Spanish, but during the process, we found out we also had to get an attorney in Todos Santos to write a letter (in Spanish) to formally let the bank in on any possible plans we have now or may have in the future. In order to do a n y t h i n g on our lot, we have to share our plans with them. Remember, el banco—the bank—holds the trust.

Now here we sit with a cold drink, a much lighter wallet, translated documents with pretty seals and stamps on them. We’re on our way!

Wrong. Now the bank says we need an apostille–a type of certification document with a fancy seal–from the state of Nevada where our LLC is. Did I mention that our lot is in an LLC? That was one of the selling points. We didn’t have to pay closing costs to Mexico to buy a US “business.” LLCs are more like monkey business if you ask me, but we fell for it. Oh really? We’ll save $8,000 in closing costs? Terrific! I’m pretty sure somewhere along the way my mother told me that you never get something for nothing, but I probably just ignored her wisdom.

Seeing that I am the secretary of our LLC, it is my job to go online to the Nevada Sec. of State, and investigate this requirement. Piece of cake! It’s right there at the internet site. I fill out the order form for an apostille and now I have to MAIL it to the Nevada Secretary of State with my credit card info and my signature. Have you tried to mail anything to or from Baja? The mail within Baja is pretty good I’m told. Someone mails you something and two months later you get it. Maybe. Our experience with mail outside of Baja has been less than stellar. Our friend in Washington mailed us a large envelope in December of 2010. They received it in the post office in Todos Santos in June 2011. Who needed those bills anyway, right?

I filled out the order form for the apostille, scanned and emailed it to our LLC Nevada attorney who agreed to mail it for us. He didn’t mention money, so I’m thinking he is doing us a favor.

I’m asking the Secretary of State’s office to send the apostille to my mom’s address in San Diego, as we will be there a week from now. The Mexican bank says they will accept an electronic apostille in order to get our “package of documents” off to Mexico City where there is this ONE PERSON in all of Mexico who can grant us our Power of Attorney. Gee, I hope he isn’t on vacation. This is supposed to take a month from receipt of our request. I would like this omnipotent person to think of it as more of a demand, but we must remain polite in this gentile society. Please take these translated documents, all ten of them, plus the apostille from the state of Nevada, and allow me to sign for developing my own property. Muchas gracias! 

I still have to give the bank the original copy of the apostille when we get back from San Diego, which is going to take at least two weeks to receive from Nevada. This is an optimistic guess. I’m crossing my fingers that we will still be in San Diego when it arrives. If I get this in time, I will scan it and email it to the sweet little bank in Mexico that has us by the throat. If I don’t get it in time, I will slit my wrists.