The Odd Pot

Ready for rain

View from the Casa Sun & Moon’s deck.

This is the sole photo I took during our anniversary trip to Zihuatanejo, Mexico, last week. One shot, no more.

This is the Casa Sun & Moon, which is the Grande Dame of Zihua’s beachfront hotels. It was built in the 1960s, and was a favorite of famous folks. Though physically large, the hotel has fewer than 20 rooms.

Its glory days have long gone, and the hotel is rather tatty now. We’ve stayed there four or five times over the past few years, but we won’t be returning. It’s become preposterously overpriced. Plus, it’s for sale, not a good sign.

There are only three good rooms, large suites with jacuzzis that overlook the bay. We’ve always stayed in those suites. The other rooms are grim.

In the future, we’ll be staying directly next door at La Quinta de Don Andrés, which is where we stayed on our first visit to Zihua about six years ago.

Don Andrés once cost more than Casa Sun & Moon, but now they’ve switched places price-wise, plus the Don Andrés underwent a snazzy renovation.

* * * *

Today, May Day, is when Communists feel particularly proud of themselves. In spite of its colossal failure as a political-economic system, many people still embrace Marxist notions, proving the human race is hopeless indeed.

* * * *

I opened a new bar of soap this morning. Most folks, I imagine, do this without thinking, but for me it’s always a major event akin to popping the lid of a vacumn-packed can of coffee. My soap brand is Zest.

Coffee and soap improve our lives.

* * * *

Speaking of Communism, I just finished a fascinating book, The Aquariums of Pyongyang: Ten Years in the North Korean Gulag. Its author, Chol-hwan Kang, escaped to South Korea in 1992 and now lives in Seoul.

Chol-hwan Kang, along with most of his family, was sent to a slave-labor camp when he was 7 years old. He was kept there for ten years.

The next time you think about your crappy childhood, be grateful it was not spent eating rats, watching executions, and working deep in a mine.

Now that’s a crappy childhood.

* * * *

Last week I made a second round of trimming the yard with three types of cutters, small, medium and heavy-duty. As with the first round a couple of months ago, this activity ended with a mountain of green garbage.

This is to prepare for the rainy season, still about a month hence.

I got Abel, my deadpan neighbor there on the other side of the sex motel, to cart it all away, which he did for 150 pesos, about 12 bucks.

Among the victims of this latest round of trimming was the entire red trumpet vine that has graced, embraced and cursed the downstairs terraza for years. In its place, I planted a nice bush with blue flowers.

Like bougainvillea, think twice before planting a trumpet vine.

But now we are ready for rain.

16 thoughts on “Ready for rain

  1. I have an affinity for trumpet vines and their hummingbird attendants. But we have different tolerances for chaos. A fact you have commented on in the past.


    1. Steve: My contrasting neat-freakishness puts me at a disadvantage to you in some areas. The flowers of trumpet vines are beautiful for a brief spell, and then they fall to the ground en masse, turning ugly. And the vines themselves are like something from a horror movie in their persistence. They were always invading, or trying to (I fought them back), the clay roof tiles. Left uncontrolled, they would have broken the tiles in time.

      As for chaos, there is quite enough in the world for me already. I don’t need to add it to my yard.


  2. Congratulations on your Ceremony of the Unveiling of the New Bar of Soap. I know the feeling, having done so myself not two days ago. I trust that your soap selection brings you weeks of happiness and fortune.


    1. Gracias, Ms. Rose. I enjoy stroking my feminine side. And I imagine your soap is far nicer than my Zest. Ni modo. It takes little at times to make me happy.


  3. The skies and the wind taunt us with the promise of rain, but it’s a false hope, I believe. We must be patient. Maybe we’ll get some by the end of this month. Surely in early June?

    Don Cuevas


    1. Carole: Me too.

      What people who do not live in our type of odd climate might not know is that how important the impending arrival of daily rain is. We go seven months bone dry. The mountains turn brown. Dust covers us. The only “hot” time of the year occurs at the end of this dry time, April and May. When the rain finally arrives, usually in early June, we are really, really happy.

      Of course, by September we are sick to death of it.


      1. We were getting a lot of smoke in the air from fires in Yucatan week before last. I think they were supposed to be controlled burns but the smoke was pretty thick as it drifted to the north. Hurricane season is just around the corner for those who need rain and live in the hurricane belt, but we’ll take the rain. No destruction.


        1. Carole: One of the most glorious aspects of living where I do is that I don’t have to worry about hurricanes ever again. After living on the Gulf Coast most of my life, that’s a big deal.


  4. Opening a new bar of soap is one of those little luxuries I enjoy also, along with clean sheet day.

    I tend to like chaos in my garden instead of my life. I just finished planting a large vegetable garden, and rain would be most welcome.


    1. Jackie: If you lived in my environment, you would encounter a very different kind of yard chaos. It really goes to town here. It’s amazing. Were I a renter, it would mean less to me, but it can attack the house. And does.


  5. I am sorry your hotel is for sale, being seedy in the process. I often skipped down to San Jose, Costa Rica, in the past, which is close to us since our countries are miniscule. My favorite place is closed, and it is for sale. I was aghast. I loved the small home-like character, the gardens, and the fact that it was above the city. Asi es la vida.


    1. Laurie: There is nothing small and home-like about the Casa Sun & Moon, plus I don’t care if it’s for sale. It simply got too big for its britches, price-wise, and the place next door is a far better option.

      So, all is well.


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