By Susan Fogel
Back in the Old Country, when Labor Day passed and the tourists went back to the heartland, we would return to the beaches of the Monterey Peninsula. And the best part was that the weather was golden, warm and sunny.
Remember that oft repeated quote by Mark Twain:
“The coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco.”? The same holds true for Monterey and Carmel.
But Fall was special at the beach. The days grew shorter and Halloween items started popping up in stores and on doorsteps. The kids were back in school, and our office hours became more regular again. The rush to Christmas was on.
When my Beloved and I arrived here in August 2000, we had no idea how much we would miss Fall. We had no idea how much we would miss the crisping of the air, the turning of the leaves, rain and the smell of wood smoke in the air. We missed Fall.
September is the month I became an aunt for the first time, and I attended a wedding back in the 70s in September, where the bride and groom did not exchange rings, there was no white dress and no words like “husband” and “wife” were allowed. September was the month in 1968 when my first lover left me to drive the “Baja”. I had no idea what the Baja was. And in September 1969, as I returned to my college, the first question everyone asked was: “Did you go to Woodstock?”
But now September sings a different song for us. Today, nearly three weeks into September, Fall is almost officially here. The mornings are cooler, dark comes earlier, the threat of a big hurricane hitting increases, and the Malecon is still decked out in streamers of red, green, and white. We sometimes emerge from hibernating in our air conditioned homes. The tourists and snowbirds are starting to return. Social activities pick up, and planning committees for charity events are meeting.
Once Independence Day on the 16th of September passes, Halloween and Day of the Dead items cohabitate on store shelves. The back to school rush is over. Groups of school kids in their plaid uniforms mingle and lounge on the Malecon.
Change is in the air, I always have a sense of expectation and a sense of time rushing by. And as the song says, “…the days dwindle down to a precious few…” The year is ending, holidays are approaching.
Do you know where this is in La Paz
Chiles en Nogada, A Patriotic Dish Traditionally Served in September.
By Susan Fogel
Okay, so you aren’t going to go to the Palacio to take part in El Grito, and maybe you even decided against finding a place to watch the fireworks. There is one thing you can do the week of September 16th, and that is enjoy a truly wonderful dish called Chiles en Nogada. No worries we are not going to print a recipe here. These babies take a lot of work. And when anyone talks about this gorgeous, rich, sumptuous dish, they all say: “Oh I love Nogada, but they are too much work to make myself!”
Where is grandma when you need her anyway?
If you have ever made green chile soup, arroz verde or chiles relleno, you know what hard work is when it comes to cooking with these wonderful, beefy poblano chiles.
Here is how Wikipedia describes Chiles en Nogada:
“…Chiles en nogada is a poblano chile stuffed with ground beef, fruit, herbs, and spices, then covered in a creamy walnut sauce. The final garnish is pomegranate seeds. The three colors of the Mexican flag are represented here, green for the chiles, the walnut sauce is white, and the pomegranate seeds are red, so this is a very traditional dish eaten during the month of September in Mexico…”
Here is how I describe it: Rich, sweet, succulent with a little bite from the poblano chiles, scrumptious. One September, I ate it every day at different restaurant. I just could not get enough.
The wonderful thing about holiday specialties is that they are only served during their special holiday. They do not become commonplace.
Chiles en Nogada are not cheap as an entrée, but my friends you will not be disappointed.
My mouth is watering as I write this!
Grab your partner, a friend, or someone off the street just say “Want to go have Nogada?” and complete strangers will follow you anywhere.
At press time several of the other, better restaurants in town were not serving nogada, or were undecided .
So head to one of these wonderful, La Paz restaurants and enjoy the crowd and festive atmosphere.
LasTres Virgenes on Madero Street a few doors from Aramburo, Jesse Chavez, owner and head food designer says Nogada have been on the menu for a week already. It is always best to make reservations 123 2226
Café El Corazon on Revolucion and 5 de Mayo: starting this Friday until the end of the month for reservations:
El Rincon Gourmet will be serving Nogada all month. Theyare on Bravo near TELMEX.
“ Listen my children and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere” Those are the opening words of Longfellow’s poem published almost 100 years after the American Revolution. And school children all over the nation learned the words to the poem and the story it told. As the story goes, some friends of Paul Revere were to light lanterns in the tower of Old North Church in Boston to tell him if the British were coming by land or sea(“… One if by land, two if by sea…”) He would then ride through the towns alerting the people. The story has been embroidered and embellished and Paul Revere has become a hero and super patriot, but he did not ride alone. In fact there were many back up riders that spread the word that the British were coming.
And so Mexico has an Independence Day legend reenacted in towns and villages and from the nation’s capital in Mexico City. Like the Independence Day celebrations in the US, it is a national holiday. The day is marked with pomp, parties and patriotism. And legends of epic proportions.
On September 15, 1810 Miguel Hidalgo y Castillo called the people from the steps of his church in Dolores Hidalgo in Guanajuato. He commanded his brother and others to march on the jail and demand the release of 80 or more political prisoners. Two of those that went to the sheriff with their demands were Ignacio Allende and Mariano Abasolo.
Those are two names that everyone reading this should recognize. Just as most larger towns in the US have streets named after Martin Luther King and John F. Kennedy, so are streets named for these heroes in towns all across the republic of Mexico. Here in La Paz, Calle Abasolo becomes our Malecon ( beach front promenade). And we do also have a Calle Ignacio Allende.
When we first arrived in La Paz and embarked on pool construction, I said to my Beloved; “ Beloved, there will be no workers at the house tomorrow.” “How do you know?”; he asked. And my response was that the next day would be the 16th of September, and there was a BIG street named for that day.
Clue about holidays here: if there is a street named with a date, there will be a holiday.
So at around sunrise on September 16, 1810, Hidalgo ordered the church bells rung, and exhorted his parishioners to revolt against the “bad government” also known as the Spanish.
This exhortation to revolution became known as El Grito de Dolores or the Cry of Dolores.
The first battle fought in the war for independence occurred on September 20th in Guanajuato. Mexico would not win her independence from Spain for ten more years. The Declaration of Independence of the Mexican Empire was made on September 27, 1821.
No one has the exact words Hidalgo used to exhort his people to insurrection and the famous speech of Cry of Dolores is not recorded and many other people are attributed with parts of the oration.
And everyone has an opinion of what was said, and who said it. But today Miguel Hidalgo, a Catholic priest is anointed with the responsibility of calling the people to rise up against their oppressors.
In October 1825, the Cry of Dolores had an official name change to the El Grito de La Independencia, or the Cry of Independencia. And on September 15th, the president of Mexico rings the bells at the National Palace in Mexico City around eleven p.m. He then reads the following poem and the crowd responds with the last lines “ Via Mexico, Viva Mexico, Viva Mexico! The president waves the national flag during the shouting, then at the end rings the bell again.
Long live the heroes that gave us the Fatherland!
Long live Hidalgo!
Long live Morelos!
Long live Josefa Ortiz de Dominguez!
Long live Allende!
Long live Aldama and Matamoros!
Long live National Independence!
Long Live Mexico! Long Live Mexico! Long Live Mexico!
The crowds in the Zocalo in Mexico City are enormous and tourists as well as Mexicans come from near and far to be part of El Grito.
It is customary for Mexican presidents to visit the church in Dolores Hidalgo on the last Independence Day of their term. President Calderon broke with tradition and visited the church of Dolores Hidalgo on September 15th, 2010 as part of the bi-centennial celebrations.
Have you noticed the foil bunting and the red, green and white décor festooning the governor’s palace on Isabel La Catolica near Allende? It is dressed and ready for El Grito coming up in a few short weeks. Red, green and white streamers are stretched across the Malecon, and street vendors have been out for weeks selling flags, sombreros and anything remotely connected to Independence Day.
There will be a huge crowd, the shout and fireworks! If you don’t mind crowds, and also hoofing it from a parking spot somewhere blocks away, it is an energetic and enthusiastic crowd, and you will be stirred to take part in the grito. Viva Mexico!
The restaurants will be starting to serve Chiles en Nogada a traditional dish served at this time of year. Look for my upcoming post about this.
My Beloved and I will watch the fireworks from our terrace on the hill across the bay from La Paz.
A picture is worth a thousand words. And this picture says it all!
In years past right about now, we would be packing, and preparing for our annual visit to the frozen north, well Dallas or Thousand Oaks to spend Christmas with one or both of our kids. For us the temperatures in Texas and California are chilly to downright frigid.
We soldier through the torture of multiple airports, and plane changes, and arrive dragged out and hungry. But the ride from the airport is always a nice re-entry. Christmas lights are everywhere, and we love turning into Miss Meliss’ neighborhood and circling the park that is ablaze with lights.
Once we get past the exuberant welcome from the million, well three dogs, and sometimes a foster dog, the delicious aroma of slow cooking food enters our consciousness. The house is beautifully decorated and the tree is lit waiting for its ornaments. Decorating the tree is something Miss Meliss and I do together.
We take our coffee and dessert to the living room and sit by the fire and plan our days.
We always have a shopping list, things like underwear and shoes top the list. For me visiting fabric stores is an absolute.
We talk about who will be dropping in, and who will be staying for dinner.
Then it is up to bed where we bury ourselves in the quilts Melissa has laid out for us.
“It’s not cold!” she says. And we grumble back that we are freezing!
One year we had snow on Christmas Eve, it was romantic and the house looked gorgeous with the lights shining on the snow and the decorated tree in the window. Earlier in the day we drove around in the snow to finish up some shopping, I was nervous. Not that my Beloved could not handle snow, he grew up in Chicago, snow he knows. And we were driving a Subaru with its famous all-wheel drive. It is all the other drivers that have no clue how to handle the snow that made me nervous.
This year? Events conspired against us. We are not going north and no one is coming south for the holiday.
We are all disappointed of course. BUT! As we watched Dallas become a frozen snow globe, and saw travelers stranded in airports across the nation, we felt relief that we are not going to be part of THAT.
Just last week I was swimming in my pool, and drying off in the sun. I sat in the sun to do some hand sewing, and had coffee outside. We have had some stiff breezes, well, okay, wind, so I have not been in the pool or done much outside. But, the winds will lie down, and the sun will shine and I will count my blessings…and have several Facetime moments with Miss Meliss.
How I met Julie
“…One door opens and another closes…” How many times have we heard that cliché?
In October 2008, I lost my job as the Director of Closings for a cross-border mortgage company. For days, I was stunned, sad, and worried.
By the end of that same week I was on a new high. The editor of the premier magazine aimed at ex-pats, International Living contacted me and asked me to write the cover story for their December issue .
Take THAT, mortgage industry and economic crisis, I was now following my dream to be a writer. And on the cover of a major magazine!
Shortly after the article ran, I received an email from someone at International Living, in it was a message from a Julia Sheehan.
She was asking if she could contact the author (me) directly to talk about life in La Paz. There was no email address for Ms. Sheehan in the message. But she had mentioned that she had studied Spanish at the Spanish immersion school. So I sent a message to Julie Goff , the director of Se Habla La Paz the Spanish immersion school, asking if she knew Julie Sheehan, and if she did, then would she connect us.
It isn’t often one receives fan mail. I wanted to be sure to meet this new Julie.
Once we connected in email, we decided to meet. My Beloved and I invited Julie to our house. She pulled up in a fiery red PT Cruiser with painted red flames licking the sides. Not exactly the Little Old Lady from Pasadena! In fact, Julie had the flames painted on after she bought the car! What an amazing woman! In her late sixties at the time, she drove the red roadster from North Carolina across the US and down the Baja Peninsula all the way to La Paz by herself.
We had a lovely chat and learned about Julie’s life and what led her to La Paz. Knowing she had come from that island of liberalism in a red state, Chapel Hill, we figured she would have our political proclivities, and she did. Lucky for us, or this may have been our one and only meeting.
We liked Julie at once, and asked her to join us as we made our Christmas visits to friends in Todos
Santos. She volunteered to drive the red rage, and off we went.
It was a lot of fun to introduce her like this: “This is my friend Julie, she is my fan.”
As time passed we learned more about Julie, and grew closer. She has been a guest at our table numerous times. She is a true and loyal friend.
She holds true to her quirky belief about extra terrestrials and UFOs. She is open minded, a seeker of knowledge and loves dogs. Guitar music fills her soul, and if you ever want a capsule review of almost any move of any era, just ask Julie.
It’s hard to believe that Julie is 72, or even much past 60.
At a time when I was flagging in hope, along came Julie…
PLEASE READ THIS AND SHARE WITH YOUR FRIENDS!
If we were communicating today by drums, the air around La Paz would be vibrating with the coconut telegraph sounding the word, about the impending doom of the fideicomiso. Gringos are all abuzz thinking that they will be able to shed the annoying fideicomiso that is the instrument that allowed them to buy their little piece of paradise. And perhaps they will, but not this week or this month.
The Mexican government changed their constitution in 1997 to make it possible for foreigners to own property in the restricted zones of Mexico. Those zones are 50 km from the coast and 100 km from a foreign border. The fideicomiso ( a trust-like contract) was amended and adapted so that foreigners could safely and legally own property on the beach.
The original logic behind creating restricted zones was to keep foreigners from aiding invading navies or armies. It is highly unlikely today, that Belize or Guatemala or even Uncle Sam will invade by land or sea, or invade at all.
Foreigners owning homes in Mexico complain about the recurring administration fees for their fideicomisos. The fiduciary banks do nothing really, and yet they get their $450-600 dollars every year.
For years we have been hearing that any minute now the federal government was going to do away with the fideicomiso. Well the time seems to have come. A bill was presented to the federal congress to eliminate the fideicomiso.
It is now awaiting discussion in the Senate. Once the Senate approves the bill it goes to the president for signature.
But wait! Even after the presidential signature It is not law yet! The signed document must be published in the Diario Nacional (like the Congressional Record in the US).
So, don’t go running to the bank and demand that they close your fideicomiso.
It isn’t going to be all that easy.
First the Senate and others need to decide how the Calvo clause will work if foreigners will now have escrituras ( Mexican fee simple titles). The Calvo Clause is used the world over , in Mexico it is part of the fideicomiso and when you sign your new fideicomiso, you agree to act as a Mexican national and will not try to invoke the laws of your native country when it comes to issue surrounding your property.
Then there is the Investment clause. And this clause states that if you have land larger than 2,000 square meters you must develop it within 24 months and spend at least $250,000 on the improvements. And that investment figure goes up as the size of the property goes up.
Oh and then there is the Secretary of Foreign Relations known as the SRE here in Mexico. When I closed transactions for buyers in Guadalajara and San Miguel de Allende, even though there was no fideicomisos, there was still a permit issued by the SRE. These take time and cost money.
Escrituras are titles that Mexican citizens get when they buy land. There is no SRE permit, no Calvo or Investment Clause in the existing escritura. So how will this work for foreigners? Someone has to figure this out.
My sources say the Senate may very well pass this law, and the president will sign it IF:
- · If the US doesn’t do something objectionable that affects Mexicans
- · If the banks don’t somehow throw a monkey wrench into the works
- · If the bill does not have too many additions or deletions that the president cannot abide
This is wonderful news for new buyers, for foreign owners, and for real estate attorneys and notarios.
Closing costs may be significantly lower for new buyers.
Existing property owners can drop the fideicomiso and save $400-600 a year, that’s a lot of tequila.
Real estate attorneys and notarios will make more money. And houses can sell and transactions can close more quickly
BUT! Already one buyer has wondered why they should buy now and pay for a fideicomiso that may be no longer necessary in 6 months or a year. The excitement and the spreading of misinformation may affect the decisions of buyers.
Could we have a moment of silence while everyone reads this blog post and shares it?
I am as happy as everyone else to wish the fideicomiso farewell, but I can see the issues that have to be ironed out.
We have at least six months, and more likely a year before anything changes.
Watch this space for new developments.
Chances are that once in your life you have been to the emergency room . And that experience in most cases was slow, irritating and expensive. At least that has been my experience back in California, and most people I know say the same, well except my OLDER sister Delia in Shreveport where she says the care she gets every time she falls off her horse and breaks another crucial part of her body, like her neck, and back, is excellent with no waiting.
It is so amazing the medical care here, even after 12 years I continue to be amazed. So after the clamor died down over the weird, smelly, bearded man on my terrace (see yesterday’s post) we headed to Fide Paz hospital. It actually has a long name including the words Especialidades Medicos, but it’s nickname is Fide Paz, named for the fraccionimiento (neighborhood) where it is located.
My beloved had checked the Spanish/English dictionary to make sure he knew the word for wheelchair (silla de ruedas) so that when he went to ask for one, he could get the point across in one try.
When I arrived inside they asked if I had an appointment, I said no, but I needed to see Dr. Gaxiola,(Ramon) so they rolled me into his office. I waited no more than ten minutes while the doctor finished up with another patient. Ramon examined my foot, and wheeled me into x-ray. He also told me he had asked the orthopedic surgeon Francisco Camarena to wait a few minutes while I had an x ray. I was not parked in a hospital corridor to wait for hours for the tech to get to me. The x-ray tech was right there, the films were put up on the light board and Francisco and Ramon looked at them, pronounced my bone broken, discussed the best thing to do, gave me my options.I went with their first option of a cast, not a walking cast, because the break was such that if I walked too much I could damage ligaments.
So back to Ramon’s office, a nurse came in with a bowl of warm water.
“OH how wonderfu1” I thought, “They are going to soak my foot in warm water.”
Not so lucky for me, it was for soaking the bandages. Francisco knelt down, and made the cast using some new material that looks like a white ace bandage. It is actually fiberglass.
It hardens quickly once it is wrapped on the leg and foot. Both docs worked together, one holding my foot in position and one wrapping.
DR Diaz (our internist) popped in to wish me a Happy New Year and prescribed Tequila.
You can imagine the scenario in the US: the wait in ER, the wait for an x-ray, the wait to have it read, the wait for the cast and the multi-thousand dollar bill.
Including the driving time, and the time it took to go to Chedraui (local super market with a good pharmacy) to get the prescription, I was back home 2 hours after leaving. And the bill was $3996.00 PESOS ($300.00 US) That was for two docs, the x-ray and the medical supplies! And it will be reimbursed by my medical insurance.
The ER was the easy part. Getting out of the car and into the house, changing to pajamas, and using the toilet all became hurdles.
I was in terrible pain that evening. And trying to get in the gate with the too-big crutches was awful. I fell backwards, and hurt my broken foot, and could not get up. I lay on the ground feeling miserable and thinking that in a split second my life had changed and not for the better.
I summoned all of my energy and strong will and using the car door, heaved myself up. I leaned against the car door while Ira went and got a rolling office chair to use as a wheelchair.
At bed time, I managed to get into our low, platform bed and lay on my back with the dog’s head on my shoulder all night. He was protecting me. Or comforting me. His tiny breaths were comforting, if not as sweet as a baby’s!
Next post: The Coat Hanger, the Crutches and a One-Legged Bath.
Dear readers, I though that this had been posted ages ago. So I am posting it now.
My cast came off the second week of February, and I have slowly regained my balance, and ability to walk. I still have pain and some slight swelling, but I am well on my way to a complete recovery.
This is the first in a series of missives about trying to function for the next EIGHT weeks in a cast. This one is long, it sets the scen.
Aaaah, La Paz! There are good days and there are bad days.
On the good days, the sun is shining, the air is cool and tastes of salt, the sea sparkles and the espresso comes to the table hot, with the foamed milk just right, and maybe there is even a flower drawn in the milk.
After 12 years in La Paz, my blood has thinned, I have acclimated. What was once “sweater weather “ in California, and may feel downright balmy to those of you from northern climes, it is bone chilling for me.
But last Saturday, the sun was shining and the sea was sparkling, we had just finished breakfast at Maria California , where they always draw a flower in the foamed milk of my double decaf, extra hot macchiato.
We decided to take our precious Chihuahua Coco-Nut Ibrahim Garcia for a walk on the Malecon ( ocean front promenade)
And then it happened.
After our usual Saturday breakfast with friends we braved the cold to take Coco-Nut for a walk on the Malecon. I tripped on a step fell and broke my ankle. That was six days ago. I will be in a cast for 6-8 weeks.
At first the pain was so excruciating, I was writhing on the ground screaming in pain.
It slowly subsided. I could wiggle my toes, and my foot was numb.
“ I think I broke something.” I wailed to my Beloved.
“Well maybe not”, he said, “since you can wiggle your toes.”
I sat and considered my options for a moment. The car was parked nearby, like a bright yellow beacon it sparkled in the January sun. It was little more than the length of a crosswalk away.
My Beloved held me and we hobbled to the car. By the time we got home I could not put any weight on my foot.
Luckily Salvador, our gardener was there and he helped my Beloved, Ira walk me inside. I took some Tylenol, Ira wrapped my ankle and iced it with some frozen peas. ( still in the bag)
Salvador finished his work, I took a nap in my pink chair. Ira napped in the bedroom.
Then Salvador came flying in our front door yelling for Ira.
The same weird man that tried to get in my house last week was sitting on the chairs in front of the casita taking off his clothes! Salvador was driving past when he saw him. And he knew it was not our present guests because he makes a point of meeting all of our guests ( they all are charmed by him).
The guy walked off and down the street. And there ensued one of our famous neighborhood mobilizations. But he always disappears into the wind. We have called the police, but they did not get it, that this guy is a nuisance and needs to go to a mental hospital. When I called the police they thought I said that Ira needed to go to the mental hospital!
So when the clamor died down we decided I should go to ER. .
Ira looked up the word for wheelchair so that when we got to the ER he could tell them what he needed.
Tomorrow, I will amaze you with the prompt, personal and inexpensive medical care, at a private hospital.
It was still dark, but the sky was starting to lighten.And the remnants of last night’s storm gave us this gorgeous sky.
Something woke me. A bump or the sound of something being dragged. I saw a flash of lightning, so I turned over and tried to sleep a little longer.
There it was again, like someone was in the house or on the roof.
“ Did you hear that?” I shook my Beloved awake. “Someone is in the house!” “ Get up!”
He took a moment to pull on some shorts and slip his feet into slippers. I got up to get dressed and find a weapon to help my Beloved. The dog jumped off the bed, but did not bark. He was following me into the dressing room. I pulled on a robe and a pair or mismatched flip-flops. I grabbed what was at hand for clothing and shoes in-the-dark. No time to be a Diva when someone could be robbing the family silver.
My Beloved was already in the front of the house, I could still hear bumping but not a word from him.
I grabbed the heavy flashlight from my bedside and went out to the main part of the house. He was there looking out the patio doors.
“It was probably that bucket right there.”
The little blue bucket was sitting upright, exactly where he had put it the night before.
“ No way that little bucket made enough noise to wake us. And it is right where we put it last night.”
“Well it is windy.”
This is male logic: A tiny bucket that has not moved from its place near the pool made noise loud enough to startle us awake, twice. In other words he had no idea what made the noise and illogical as it sounded, he blamed the bucket. Once when we still lived in San Jose, CA our backyard sensor lights came on in the middle of the night.
I called to him:
“ Sweetness, there must be someone in the backyard, the lights came on, go check!”
“ No dear, don’t be silly, it must have been a cow walking by.”
I am not making this up! My scientist husband, said a cow walked in our back yard. We lived 2 miles from downtown San Jose. Ours was an urban neighborhood with nary a cow, nor a plot of land big enough for a cow to turn around in.
“ A cow? A Cow?” I asked him twice.
He just looked at me as if I were speaking an unknown language and walked away.
So why am I surprised that he would say that a little plastic bucket we bought to keep near the pool so we could empty the strainer into it instead of piling dead bougainvillea leaves on the side of the pool that would only blow back in when they dried, that little bucket woke us? No Way!
Seeing that in fact we were not the victims of home intruders, I went outside to take pictures of the gorgeous morning sky. The breeze was heavenly. Well actually the wind was heavenly.
I opened up all the doors and windows to let the fresh air in.
When I opened the door to our “Spa Terrace” I saw this:
This is what went bump in the wee hours.
This terrace is my refuge, I like to meditate here, I like to sit and enjoy a coffee, the city lights, the moon, the silence. It is always beautifully arranged in a cozy grouping. The chairs have lime green cushions with striped piping(they blew away, but I found them). Because of the storms, the umbrella was closed and sitting where it belongs in it’s GRANITE base. It is a very big and heavy umbrella. Did I mention that it was closed? The potted palms were in new places as well. It is almost impossible for me to move those potted palms.
And this is what a little wind did.
Well I guess, not such a little wind. The wind was strong enough to lift this chair, move the chair flip the rug and drop the chair on the folded edge and rearrange all of the furniture, and scoot the potted palms around.
Why did all of this stuff move and not the famous bucket? The Spa Terrace is funnel shaped so any wind becomes a vortex. The bucket sits on the main terrace in front of the pool. It is surprising that the lounge chairs near the bucket moved in the wind. The cushions on the other patio furniture were tossed about, and one throw pillow is missing, but the bucket did not move.
Those must be some heavy bougainvillea leaves!
Here is what the grouping should look like. Well the cushions are now safely inside until the wind stops:
Hurricane John is well south and west of us, but we have had rain and thunder storms for days. This morning’s wind is a wonderful refresher after all of that humid air.
So now I know that if there is a hurricane looming even my potted palms need to be secured. And Mr. Stubborn “you don’t have to move everything”, may not even argue with me when I insist on battening down.
Just as a goldie-oldie on the radio can bring your teen age summers at the beach rushing back with the smell of suntan oil, French fries and the salty sea, so can other sights, sounds, smells or objects.
After a couple of wonderful, but long rainy days in El Comitan, my Beloved and I were hankering for some time in town.
We went to town in the early evening and decided on a cold drink, and a light snack.
As we were waiting for our food I snapped the picture you see above.
It feels like an old port on a windy coast after a storm.
It brought back memories of Half Moon Bay or Princeton, California before they became chi-chi.
We would walk on the beach , the wind so strong we could lean back against it and be pushed along. When our faces ached from the cold, our glasses fogged over with salt sea spray, and our hair was full of sand, we would head back to Nancy’s Fish Trap in Princeton, or one of the cafes in Half Moon Bay.
Once we sat in the first location of Main Street Sushi, the weather was wild, windy, slashing rain, it was cold, it was summer. The windows rattled and the wind wailed. We enjoyed a wonderful sushi platter. The streetlights came on, the streets glistened in the rain, the lush flowers and trees were whipped by the wind and their blossoms stuck to the window.
We felt truly alone and isolated like castaways washed up on a foreign shore.
It was romantic.
This picture took me back to that wonderful day in Half Moon Bay.
It was a balmy night, there had not yet been any reain in La Paz, but the clouds over El Mogote created a magnificent sunset.
This is a light on a post on the Tailhunter at street level.
Did you guess it?
Please leave a comment here on the blog ( upper left there is the word COMMENT) telling me whether you knew where the picture was taken, or if you had to read to the bottom.