Well, it has been WAY TOO LONG since I wrote, which is due to us enjoying our lives here, and being muy ocupado (very busy), working on the house, continuing our Spanish classes, exploring the town and our surrounding neighborhood, and having friends and family visits. I end up writing often, but not posting it here, and then it seems that the news is too old to share. But I decided to sit down and at least get something online today. So I will chronicle my writings with dates.

November 10, 2015
Ron left this morning for a trek back to California and the Bay area. He is going to arrange the shipment of our last worldly goods from our storage unit, down to Guanajuato – not necessarily an easy task. After checking out a few options we decided to trust a moving company, Mexico Moving, to get our last remaining furniture, art, including some of Ron’s pieces that we will FINALLY get to display and enjoy in our own home(!) as well as dishes, and decorative items that we haven’t seen in 20 years. I am here by my lonesome for the next 12 days, reveling in it right now (I can eat all the homemade soups, stir-fried eggplant and other Chinese dishes, as well as poached eggs I want without hearing, “Oooh, yuck.”) Tonight I am making split pea soup and can’t wait to enjoy it! Don’t worry, he gets his time when I am gone, indulging in beef – steaks, burgers, and fast-food.

We have officially been in Mexico a little over two years now! We arrived in the beginning of November 2013. And we are still very happy with our decision to sail down here, although the end result – sailing around the world, or across to the South Pacific, didn’t pan out. Instead, we have settled in a place we never dreamed of settling. Not being in the US has meant many losses of one sort or the other. Not being able to see our friends as frequently as we used to, although that was often due to my friends being my colleagues and we would see each other at work and for lunches or dinners. Not watching American television in two years! Even though I have occasionally been able to stream something or other before being “caught” and informed that since I am not living in the US, I am not allowed to watch their programs – even with the safety of VPN’s (virtual private networks). They still manage to find me! Living without good crackers, sourdough breads, good wines, ground turkey or any turkey unless it is near Thanksgiving and you are in a larger metropolitan area; California farmer’s markets, gourmet foods and restaurants, although we are finding pockets here and there, it still ain’t the same… On the other hand, we have gained so much. The living is definitely at a slower (muy tranquilo) pace, and it is much, much cheaper here (today I walked down to the little neighborhood tienda for some garlic cloves and carrots. I paid 6 pesos for 2 huge fresh garlic bulbs. That is about 3 ½ cents US). I love the energy here, the colors of the houses and cathedrals, the fiestas, the celebration and openness to us joining in on such events. The noise of fireworks and church bells, the sights in open-air markets, and the even the smells in some situations no longer bother me. In some ways I prefer it over the sterile environments of the stores in the US, with everything so packaged and plastic-wrapped that it no longer resembles what the original product was! This area reminds me much more of the small outdoor markets in other countries throughout the world.

Thanksgiving
We had 13 ½ people here for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a multicultural dinner and I do mean multicultural. Since my annual trips home to Texas for Thanksgiving ended decades ago, I have always appreciated having a number of people share the meal and day together, the more the merrier, with new and old friends alike. And certainly having people you have never met adds a little spice to the mixture. This year our dinner party grew as new expats came to town, as well as visitors of friends from Boston and Washington. We had friends from Great Britain, a couple and their baby from New Zealand, local friends from Guanajuato and expats from Oregon, New Orleans and Vancouver. Our food reflected that diversity, with poblanos in cream sauce (rajas con crema), deviled eggs with an avocado mixture, my southern cornbread dressing in a turkey we roasted, and smoked turkey grilled on the upstairs terrace, stuffed jalapeños, a squash casserole, mashed potatoes, and sweet potato cream cheesecake with a bourbon molasses sauce. I’m sure I’m leaving out numerous items, but great fun was had by all!

January 2, 2016
Christmas came and went with both of us, as well as half the town coming down with a really bad cold, but no flu! We enjoyed watching our Poinsettia trees, yes trees, grow and change into flowering Christmas symbols at this time of year. We celebrated New Year’s Eve out with friends at a French restaurant in town, and in the general reveling in the streets. There was a Mexican band in the main plaza and an organized fireworks display, for the first time in the city’s history, which we enjoyed seeing from the terrace of our house.

Several people have asked us what our days are like here, now that we are no longer living on the boat, but living in an old colonial town, in a part of a neighborhood where we are the only gringos. I wake up in the mornings, and walk across the cool Mexican tiles, and during this season, Ron often already has a fire going in the main fireplace, conveniently located between our living room and dining room. We sit in the dining room, alternatively reading, catching up on email, watching and attending to the fire, and looking out over our view. We often go for a walk further up into the mountains, visiting our tiny “suburb” town of Valenciana, exploring new roads and pathways each day. Other days we attend school for two hours a day, increasing our language skills. We have planted house-warming gifts of papaya and other flowering tropical trees, palms, and succulents, and planning what we are going to do with our yard space.

We have slowly become used to the noises that used to bother us, but now have become faint background noise, mostly (!) including Mexican radio at 7:00 am from Jesús and Rafael and the guys building a stone house, stone by stone, hand over hand clinging to the hillside below us, after assuring us, “no problema, it won’t block your view, (in Español of course). We then begin to hear the large trucks and their airbrakes descending the road in front of our house, carrying ore down from the mines, mixed with the sounds of the burros and goats traversing on the same road making their daily deliveries of wood and dirt in bags, along with the trucks delivering gas, with their loudspeakers blaring the same tune, day after day. A neighbor on one side starts playing music, often American rock and roll, on the few days he is home each month, at 8 or 9 in the mornings – VERY LOUD, but this again, is the norm. It is so seldom that we don’t say anything, instead, choosing to keep the peace with the rest of his family. His wife (?) sets up her outside patio with pots and pans and tubs, selling streetside tacos and tortas.

Going into town for groceries or other errands allows us to practice our Spanish; unfortunately many Mexicans want to practice their English and come over to us to say hello, or where are you from? We end up responding in Spanish to them and they then respond in English. It becomes quite funny, but has been a great way to interact with strangers. I never met so many random people at a grocery store or restaurant in the US. We are continually amazed and charmed by this town.

Late afternoons we finish our homework from class, and then hang out in the yard or courtyard, watering our plants, watching our cats run around and hopping after grasshoppers. Our view of the sun setting in the mountains across the valley from us, the city lights twinkling in the distance, have made me want to not only write more, but to draw or paint – in pastels, or actually trying my hand at painting again. It is so beautiful, and so quiet and peaceful where we are.

We have also found that our neighbors watch out for us, stepping out in the evening and strolling down to watch our pampas grasses being planted, by the same guy who delivers our firewood and bags of planting soil (tierra) by burros. This guy saw Ron trying to dig up the large stones to plant the grasses and offered to help. He would not give us a price, but rather stated that we should give him what we think it is worth. Either he knows gringos pay more, or he wants future work. Last name of “Jardinero” or gardener. He ended up giving us 50 pesos back from what we paid him, saying “oh, no, that is too much.” We met the neighbors and their Chihuahua, the 12 or 13 year-old giggling at my poor Spanish until she could hold it back no more and burst into guffaws. Her little, adorable dark eyed sister, Fernanda and mother Marina speak no English, but communicated that they have lived in their place for many years along with generations of family members. Everyone is of course, shocked that we live in this muy bonita grande casa by ourselves, and it makes us somewhat self-conscious. But they also “own” our place in many ways, sharing their knowledge of its history, and showing pleasure in our plans to live here “forever.” Our house cleaner lives two doors down, her brother and his family next door, and our iron-worker three doors down (who is also related). It is a very family oriented neighborhood and people are protective of the place. Everyone walking by lets us know that what we are planting, pruning, or “improving,” like turning our driveway in to a cement and stone driveway rather than a river of mud when it rains, that they “approve” and it is “muy bonita.”

We finally put out a mailbox, which might seem weird after living in this house for three months, but you have to understand that mail is essentially non-existent. We found out from some friends visiting that there are three #7 houses on our stretch of road. We never know what our real address is, and the only mail that really gets delivered are the water and electricity bills – if you are lucky. The reason I say that is that they are never in an envelope, and the bill is stuck in or under a doorway of someone nearby if the company can’t figure out who it belongs to. We get mail for unknown people, pushed under the doorway to our courtyard, and often laying in a puddle of water by the time we find it. The other weirdness is that you have to go to the neighborhood OXO (like a 7/11 or local corner store in the US) to pay your bill, or to the company itself, not knowing what you owe or when to pay it!

February 2, 2016
I have been making dough from scratch, for muffins, pie crusts, and bread because I like to, but also it can be difficult to find. I hadn’t made pie crust but one or two times in my life. Now I can’t find frozen dough or frozen pie shells easily, so I am back to experimenting (at high altitude mind you), and finding that I actually enjoy the process mostly. I have had several very messy experiences, flinging flour and cookie dough around the kitchen, making dough by hand when I get frustrated with our mixer, but generally ending up with some really good outcomes. Okay, I did have a disaster trying to make some gluten-free peanut butter blossom cookies for a friend of ours. They became little inedible blackened crisp pancakes.

We have planted a small garden and are now harvesting lettuces, spinach, tomatoes and cilantro thus far. Even in January and February. Just wait until we put in our “cajas de verduras” (raised vegetable boxes/beds). We are very excited about this project and trying to find what will be the most cost effective. Wood seems to be more expensive here than stone, and since we are already a stone house, surrounded outside by stone walls, we would like a little softening of our outdoor space.

One of the joys we have found living here is becoming friends with the locals, rather than just hanging out with the expat community, which it seems many Americans and Canadians who have moved here tend to do. We have gone on hikes, out to dinners, lunches, and picnics, and driven around the area with our new friends, and just this weekend we were invited to a birthday party by a friend and his family. We met them down in town, parked our car and transferred to theirs, as parking is quite limited in their area, and climbed up the callejon (alleys, trails, and stairways) to the house of his hermana (sister). She was in her 60’s I would imagine, and when I asked how long she had lived in her house, she said “siempre” (always). Her parents (and likely family for several generations) had owned and then added on to their house, with sisters and brothers now living in houses side by side, as a family compound. It seems that we have found this to be the norm. The houses are attached by common walls, and you can actually walk from rooftop down to the next rooftop and so on, each with their own rooftop dog. The families live simply, in rooms stuffed with religious icons, LARGE nativity scenes occupying a kitchen counter, paintings, plants and lots of pictures of family. The plaster ceiling might be crumbling, the only toilet didn’t work, so there were buckets of water to pour in the tank, and way too many fabric covered chairs and couches filling a room, but the generosity was abundant. We all crowded around an already crowded table, squeezing in where we could, or balancing our plates on our laps, between cousins, aunts and uncles, enjoying the freshly made guacamole, grilled pork in adobo sauce, chicken tinga, roasted potatoes with garlic and hot peppers, rajas (those polanos and corn in cream sauce – heavenly!), hot-off-the-grill tacos, quesadillas, and tortilla chips, and of course, frijoles, rice and the ever-present Coca-cola. We were the only gringos, but were so welcomed by family and friends, and as usual, those who could speak some English wanted to practice with us, while we tried to understand the jokes and innuendos in their rapid Español. I began seeing our lives through their eyes, as the wealthy gringos who were recently able to buy a house here. But we seemed to also be accepted, and were even the brunt of a few shared jokes. They communicated that since we have a “grande” casa, the next fiesta would be at our house. I went along with it and said, “Si, no problema.” The aunt immediately came back with “Cuando?”(When?), and everyone laughed when I responded, “mañana a las dos (tomorrow at 2).” I realized once again, the privileges we take for granted, yet I feel so humbled by our experiences here. People have been so generous and kind, despite their lack of the wealth that we associate with “success,” inviting us into their homes, their families, and their private lives.

Finally, Ron and I are adding to our family. We are adopting some street pups. A woman in the nearby town of Santa Rosa had been watching a very pregnant street dog wandering around their tiny town for days. She could no longer deal with seeing this poor dog and took her in, despite already having 3 rescued dogs. The female had 5 puppies the next day, and we were told about this a few weeks later. We went up to see the pups and fell in love with all of them, but decided on a female and a male. They are only 7 weeks old right now, so we will get them when we return from our trip this week to see Ron’s mom in Colorado. We always had dogs prior to moving on to a boat, and now 20 years later, we have decided it is time to have dogs again. The cats won’t be too happy about it, but I am tired of seeing the many, many rooftop and street dogs, tired of carcasses in the streets. We can at least be a part of the solution. The woman is keeping the mother (and having her spayed!), and now looking for homes for the final three. Anyone need a dog?

Just a reminder to look at the accompanying photos. These are more street scenes of Guanajuato, some from our walks around our “hood” and Valenciana, as well as adventures out in the country. Enjoy, and look for some more in the next couple of weeks!