Goofy stuff happens

flors
Orchids that hang onto the peach tree are blooming in the yard.

A FUNNY THING happened on the way into what’s normally the stuffiest month of the year: It rained. Repeatedly. Cooling things off.

Usually, May is the final and worst month of our seven-month, bone-dry season. That “worst” is a relative matter because the weather here is about perfect all the time. What you read about Cuernavaca — that “eternal spring” business — forget that.  That’s what should be said about our mountaintop.

Oh, it will rain in the dry season, but it’s really rare, and it usually is just a one-day deal. However, the first week and more of May has seen almost daily rain. I hesitate to label it an early onset of the rainy season, as so many are doing. I think it’s a fluke, and a look at a satellite map seems to confirm that. A front the Gringos sent is very slowly moving through Mexico.

No matter. It’s been really nice the last week or so. Alas, the grass has started to sprout and needs a good trim. I dropped the Craftsman mower off at a shop yesterday for a tune-up and, with luck, Abel the Deadpan Yardman will come this weekend to put all in order.

In the meantime, we’re sleeping at night without the fan.

* * * *

LONG TIME GONE

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what it would be like to visit the United States, something I have not done in almost a decade.

No two abutting nations in the world are more different than the United States and Mexico. This was startling, and quite disturbing, when I arrived at the dawn of the 21st Century. But it’s become normal now, and I imagine a return visit above the Rio Bravo would be weird at this point.

From what I read online, things have really changed up north.

I follow a Yahoo forum that caters to Gringos in my area, and it seems that most of them are going “back home” to visit on a regular basis. Nothing wrong with this, but I view them as vacationers here, not residents.

I have no plans to ever return to the United States, surely not to live but not to visit either. It would probably give me a headache. Everyone would be speaking English (except in those Sanctuary Cities), paying for stuff with greenbacks sporting pictures of George Washington and Alex Hamilton instead of pesos with pictures of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. Damn communists.

The streets would be smooth, confounding my old Honda, and red-clay roof tiles would be a rarity, found only on rich-folks houses. And hard-shell tacos. What sort of person eats hard-shell tacos?

No, I better stay home. It’s cheaper, and the weather is better. Medical care is nicer, and the government generally leaves you in peace.

And the summer rains can come in May.

Though they usually don’t.

17 thoughts on “Goofy stuff happens

    1. Carole: I’m not going to go, but if I were to cross the border, Houston would definitely by on the list. I always liked Houston, more even than New Orleans.

      Like

        1. Carole: No, I have not. The last time I was there, I believe, was around 2006 or 2007. It was vastly different from when I left in the first week of 2000. I liked it, especially Vietnamese restaurants.

          Like

  1. I think your decision not to return is wise unless you have a reason that you can’t avoid. She’s like an old high school sweetheart at the 30th reunion — when you see how she turned out, you’re glad you moved on.

    Like

  2. On the positive side, you can get really good soft tacos here now, at least in many places. I totally agree on the hard kind. Aside from the unimaginative ingredients, you take one bite and end up with a lap full of taco filling.

    Like

    1. Creigh: That soft tacos are available there now comes as no shock. After all, the millions of illegals want to eat what they are accustomed to.

      Your accurate description of what happens when you eat a hard-shell taco applies to what happens when we eat tostadas down here. At least when I do it. The locals magically keep it intact and out of their laps. Me, not so much.

      Like

  3. There is nothing wrong with assimilation. Learning another language and culture is the icing on the cake. You have adapted well to your nearly alpine climate and the tranquility of Mexico.

    Like

    1. Andres: Nothing at all wrong with assimilation. Dang difficult to do, especially if one switches worlds late in life. Learning the language and having a pretty good grip on the mindset of the new world are positive things, but assimilating in your soul is another matter totally. I haven’t done it, and I never will. Can’t.

      Like

  4. Looks like you made the right choice and are thankful for it.
    I am one who believes that not so much has changed up here except that folks are a lot more ready to get in your face (over nothing or not). I see that at all economic levels and in all sexes (there are more than two now, not sure how many or what the limit is).
    I’m working on spending some time down there and will work on assimilation as far as I can endure it when I get there.

    Like

    1. Ricardo: I suspect that the level of change that an individual sees depends a lot on where one lives and with whom one associates. Take you, for instance. Go to San Francisco or Portland or Seattle or New York or Chicago, and voice a sincere opinion on the pressing issues of the day. See where it gets you. Best toss your MAGA cap in a dumpster and run like hell.

      As for the number of sexes, there is no limit.

      Yeah, come on down. The water’s fine. You’d like it, I think.

      Like

      1. Observant you are, as usual. i am quite insulated by my geographic location from much of the lunacy NOB. It’s not perfect, but it’s home. One of the great advantages of living in a small community is the isolation from much of what happens in the rest of the country. We see it and mostly ignore it to the extent we can get away with it.

        Liked by 1 person

  5. We are among the fortunate few that have made this magnificent country home. I have been going up to the States for about 10 days — two weeks once a year — the past six years. I go to my “hometown” and get lost, see a few friends and then head out to the deserts or the Reservations. I just don’t belong there anymore, and I can feel it. I doubt if I will go this year, but will miss some of my dear friends who don’t travel.

    Like

    1. Peggy: I would not call Mexico a magnificent country. It has many spectacular elements (magnificent, if you will) and many stupendous negatives. It’s like one’s crazy Uncle Harry. He drinks too much, but he’s usually lovable and kind. However, I like living here more than I would living above the border now, as if I could even afford to live above the border without getting a job, a Walmart greeter or something. That’s one of the negatives, the cost. Mexico has a mostly superior health-care system, one that does not strong-arm you to participate for “the common good.” And that’s one example of the government’s leaving you in peace here, far more than governments — both local, state and federal — do in the United States.

      Like

Comments are closed.