Look, for some of us our “formative years” were almost 50 years ago. That’s how long the theme song from The Jeffersons TV sitcom has been ringing in my head. In 1975 it was a black and white world, there were only three TV channels so everybody grew up with The Jeffersons, The Bunkers and Jimmy ‘JJ’ Walker – Dyn-o-mite!
Stay focused🤦🏼♂️
I’m very pleased to report that, like the Jeffersons, I have moved on up to the eastside of Chacala. For six months I’ve crammed into a vintage 30-foot Winnebago. The views were breathtaking. The solitude and tranquility welcomed. The miniature-sized amenities (toilet, shower, bed, fridge, tiny everything) were tolerable and unimportant. I wouldn’t have wished it any other way. Even so, when the opportunity to move into a real house came along – I had to grab it. The house belongs to my closest neighbor a few hundred yards away. Elmer’s a young, entraprenureal Mexican and a pretty cool dude who’s never there. We’ve shared a few smokes and sunset cocktails. When he said he’d be away on business for 6 months, I said let me move in and house sit. Same rent as the Winnebago and a lot more creature comforts and possibilities for a social life. The best way to share this news, photos and your invitation to visit, is by posting to my blog here. Yes, you are now invited to visit, take the second bedroom/bath with a queen bed. You can enjoy the little plunge pool, nearby Riviera villages, marisco restaurants and pristine beaches. You’ll receive the friends and family discount. In fact it’s currently whale migration season and here’s a recent Facebook clip from the Chacala shoreline https://www.facebook.com/share/v/152uHQXnBH/?mibextid=wwXIfr
Below are some house photos before the actual March 1st move in.
Weezy… we finally got a piece of the pie!
A new, 2000 sq/ft compound with 2br/2ba, private/nude sun deck and plunge pool
One of my secrets for maintaining a youthful appearance is prioritizing healthy skin care. A few years ago turning 60, Instagram began bombarding me with ads for ED pills, prostate health, nose hair clippers, hair dyes and face creams. Of course I had no reason to click on these offers, except… the face cream ad showed a graying 60 year old guy fending off hordes of young nubiles after just one week of smearing Beef Tallow all over his face (I have to admit, the before and after photos were quite remarkable).
Beef Tallow is basically just residual grease from the cattle slaughtering process, not so different from what we have here in Mexico called “Manteca.” Manteca is lard. It’s given away free at every roadside Carnitas stand. The Abuelas love using Manteca to fry everything from rellenos to papas. But why use the free stuff when I can pay $25 an ounce 🤦🏼♂️ So back in the States over the Christmas break I succumbed and ordered my first jar of “whipped tallow honey balm face and body moisturizer” – aka Beef Tallow. Beef Tallow is an all-natural waxy paste with the consistency of Crisco or Vaseline, but has some additional unique qualities.
Does it have an odor? YES. And that’s either a curse or a blessing. Odor on a man is like bait, so it depends on what you’re trying to catch. For example, the odor of Perry Ellis 360 Red cologne typically produces good results for me. Anyway, I like the skinny girls and a few weeks ago I went on a first date with a skinny girl in Puerto Vallarta. She opened the door and immediately grimaced at the smell wafting from the cab of my Yukon. She said in Spanish “¿Qué la chingada ese olor pútrido!?” which loosely translates to “What the fuck is that putrid smell!?” I tried to explain that it was just simply my face cream but she said “¡Huele como si hubiera partes de cuerpos cortados en tu asiento trasero!” which loosely translates to “it smells like there are chopped up body parts in your backseat!” She slammed the door shut and ran really fast back to her apartment. On the flip side, the next night (me, a little more desperate now) I had a third date with a not-so-skinny girl – what we sometimes call a gorda, or torta. What I already knew about this girl is that she prioritizes food over exercise. The guy she dated before me works at my favorite mariscos restaurant and is the guy who fries the whole fish in skillets of hot corn oil. I’ve met him and he literally wreaks of fried grease from 10 feet away. Apparently the odor of disgusting food appeals to her in a pheromone kind of way. When she opened the door and got a whiff of my beefy face, she thought I had brought her tacos carne asada. She said “Papi, ¿vamos a cenar esta noche y ver Netflix?” which loosely translates to “Daddy are we going to eat in tonight and watch Netflix?” So yes, Beef Tallow has a strong odor, which can be either an attraction or a repellant, depending your date’s appetite.
Is it Vegan? NO. On yet another date the girl got into the car and leaned in for a kiss. After recoiling from the kiss, she wiped her lips as if she’d just eaten shit. About 30 seconds after that she started dry heaving. 10 seconds later, I kid you not, she projectile vomited across the center console and plastered my brand new, $65 imported Guayabera shirt. Dry-clean only and my little Pueblo doesn’t have one. The shirt is trash. Turns out she’s uber-Vegan, like allergic to any and everything that ever walked, breathed or bred (which includes a Neanderthal like me). Beef Tallow and Vegans definitely do not mix. Makes complete sense and I feel like I should have known this.
Do animals react to it? YES. Two stories. I sit in on a weekly game night with three other friends – another guy and two girls. Sometimes cards, sometimes jenga or dominoes. Alejandra, the host, has one of those ranch dogs that shepherd the livestock. It’s like an Australian Blue or whatever those smart little fuckers are called. In fact its name is Blue. Anyway, I’m trying to hold my cards discreetly below the table top and this fucking little dog just keeps licking at my hand. Pushing it away, it then jumps to my lap and starts licking at my face. Obviously it’s the smell of beef that’s captured his hyperactive affection. Now, the good thing about all this is that Alejandra takes this as a sign that I’m an animal lover (which I am not) and that her dog really likes me, which is a mandatory dating compatibility litmus test for her. I’m starting to get the stare and the vibe from her that “I’m the one.” Who knows what the future holds for us. If we end up married, I will owe it all to Beef Tallow.
The second evidence that Beef Tallow piques the keen smell of animals is when I get stopped at the State Agricultural Checkpoint. Unfortunately, I have to pass this checkpoint every time I drive from Nayarit (where I live) to Puerto Vallarta, which is in the next State of Jalisco. Two weeks ago I was singled out for secondary inspection after the K9 Detector Dog alerted to my vehicle. More than an hour later, after pulling off all the upholstery and interior panels of my Yukon, finding no contraband, I was free to go. I now carry the signs pictured below and proactively flash them as I pass. This seems to have solved the dog problem as I’m passing the checkpoint with only their collective laughter and pointing as they mumble “Pinche Vallarta joto!” That loosely translates to “fucking homosexual tourist.” Humiliating for sure, but I can live with this.
Is it compatible with beach life? NO. Problematic on two fronts. One, it’s animal fat. Essentially like applying bacon grease or baby oil. The first trip to the beach I got sun burned so badly that I peeled a layer of charred skin from my nose before lunchtime. I’d estimate that the tender skin of the face goes from virgin white to 3rd degree red in about an hour. Secondly, Beef Tallow and sand do not mix well. It’s like wearing a fly strip across your forehead as it attracts millions of hard bits (sand and insects) from the air and water. Normal cotton beach towels will not wipe your face smooth; they only grind the granules into your skin seeding your nasal passages and cheeks for later blackhead acne. The only thing that can clean soiled Beef Tallow from your face is a densely woven microfiber. Luckily, I keep my trusty “As Seen on TV” ShamWow in the glove compartment. The ShamWow removes the abrasive, after-beach tallow/sand mixture while leaving the perfect matte sheen on my forehead, nose and ears.
Is it flammable? YES. I – did – not – see – this – coming. Occasionally I smoke cigars. And because cigars are expensive and I am cheap, I smoke a stogie right down to its nub. The other night at my neighbor’s house I was drawing in probably the last possible draw from a nice Monte Cristo when POOF! Before my eyes I saw a flame arc from the glowing cigar ash tip, past my upper lip, past my nose and eyeballs, and attach itself to my right eyebrow. From there it proceeded to singe the eyebrow from edge to edge. The smell of burnt hair was horrific but worse was the extinguished devastation. Elmer, my neighbor who used to live in LA, is constantly high and speaks good English, said “Dude, your eyebrow looks like the de-forested aftermath of the California wildfires.” Indeed, my right eyebrow hairs are no longer blond, orderly and vertical; they’re more like squiggly black pubic hairs separated by barren patches of blistered red and dried magma. So just know that getting Beef Tallow near fire is like throwing a lit match into your gas grill – super combustible!
Will I order more? Probably not. Beef Tallow is repulsive to skinny girls, vegans and smokers, and attractive to foodies, chubby girls and their pets. Plus it’s expensive, time-consuming and has permanently stained all my pillowcases. For me the downsides outnumber the upsides. It’s been an interesting 30-day experiment but I may have to fall back on my natural good looks, charming personality and American wallet to keep my love life active.
Yesterday I arrived back to my home in Chacala, Nayarit, Mexico. Before you make your jab, yes, I know it’s not a home; it’s a 32 foot RV parked on a hilltop under a palapa. But home is where the heart is, they say. And I was once again reminded that my heart is definitely in Mexico.
I travelled three days from north to south. Launching from my former home of 10 years, Nogales, Sonora, where the overnight temp fell to below zero. Typical for January as Nogales sits at some 4300 feet altitude. Quickly though, I descended into the Sonoran low desert and reasonable temps. Many think the deserts of Sonora and Arizona are beautiful. I do not. After 40 years living in the Sonoran, I’m quite over the extreme temps (-20 to +120), scrub cactus and such a lack of humidity that my skin looks 20 years older than it ought to. How can I lie about my age on Tinder if I have “crepey” skin!
As I crossed into Sinaloa state, the terrain turned to vibrant agriculture. Endless miles of black earth planted with tomatoes, potatoes, onions and carrots – all destined to the US markets. It’s pretty in its own way, but offers nothing to my liking. After traversing Sinaloa for 10 hours, you enter the beautiful state of Nayarit. It’s immediately different when you turn inward and upward to the Sierra Madre mountain range. It’s profoundly green in color and lush with mango, avocado and banana trees. Yesterday the visibility was low due to a heavy fog setting on the tree tops. After noon the fog lifted and I proceeded to drive down the back side of the mountain range through the coffee and sugar cane crops. I don’t know a thing about farming but this was the first time I’ve seen the sugar cane blooming. The cane stalks usually resemble Wisconsin corn, but yesterday they had rather large, purple feather plumes sprouting upward. I don’t mean to get all Shakespearian here but these plumes were new to me and covering an entire mountainside they reminded me of overlooking a huge college marching band.
Let’s review what jungle living actually is. Maybe the first thing that comes to your mind is mosquitoes, spiders and snakes. I suppose that’s generally true. I think I’ve mentioned that they filmed the Arnold Swarzeneggar movie Predator here. Anyway, surprisingly, I don’t have mosquitoes. I don’t know why, but I’m really glad. I do have the occasional spider – spray or splat, no biggie. They say there’s snakes, jaguars and monkeys in my jungle, but I haven’t seen any yet. There are a few green parrots that are kinda interesting. But mostly jungle living means tropical weather with mild temps year-round, ample high-canopy shade, and a general peace and tranquility devoid of industrial noises, partying neighbors and street traffic. I think the best jungles abut oceans. Unless you’re on an island, jungles meeting beaches are rare. Rio de Janeiro was jungly, but was on the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic compared to the Pacific is rougher, darker, colder, has crappy sand and offers sunrises vs. sunsets. It’s like Jacksonville compared to Clearwater, if you know how Florida is positioned. I prefer west-facing white powder beaches with smooth warm water and dramatic sunsets at cocktail hour.
So… if one wanted to find the Pacific Ocean jungle closest to the US, both flyable and drivable, one would take out an old-fashioned map. Trace your finger south from the US border and the closest qualifying place is literally Chacala, on the Riviera Nayarit. Trust me, I’ve given this a lot of thought and have done a lot of hands-on research. It’s a geographical fact that there’s nothing like the Riviera Nayarit that’s closer in distance to the US than Chacala. Even within the country of Mexico, the Riviera Nayarit stands out as uniquely desirable. I hope that answers some of the questions as to why Chacala.
Final word. After more than a month away from here, I felt so good arriving home. Call me crazy but here’s the list of what I love about Chacala: the amazing jungle, the white sand beach and the temperate weather. It was 72 degrees when I arrived. I love Mexican food and especially seafood – ceviche, oysters and grilled whole fish. I love this community (aka. Mayberry RFD). I find it interesting to learn and use the Spanish language, to explore 1500 year old Spanish landmarks and experience the 500 year old Mexican culture. The relatively low cost of living is a retiree’s dream. I enjoy the little things like locally grown coffee, locally distilled Tequila and organic fresh fruit. And finally, there are countless intangibles such as peace and tranquility, the slow pace, lack of pretense and materialism, lack of politics and news, and really cool – my anonymity.
Friends, returning here after the winter break was like returning to paradise. This, for me, is paradise. I hope you’ll stay in touch and consider visiting me one day.
As Johnny Cash once sang:
“I don’t know where, I don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day.”
Macho – dictionary definition: manly, assertive, dominating. Today the English equivalent would be an Alpha Male.
Machismo – dictionary definition: masculine, entitled, strong, courageous, dominate. Google translates Machismo to Sexism, and I would stretch that to include the English/French word Chauvinism.
Macho Man Randy Savage
As a teenager in the 70’s, growing up at the northern border of the United States, Mexico was a mystery and local Latin culture was non-existent. Ashamed to say that my first taste of tacos, beans and rice came from driving through a Taco Bell 🤦🏼♂️ I grew up with Whites and Blacks, but not a single Brown person. Leave it to pop culture to open our eyes to other worlds. In 1978, “The Village People” topped the charts with the sappy, incessant tune Macho Man. In the late 70’s Hector “Macho” Camacho was the up-and-coming world champion boxer from Puerto Rico. And of course WWF Champ Randy Savage the Macho Man. Before we called it a pornstache, we called it a macho mustache. The coolest word of the 70’s decade, aside from “Dude” was probably “Macho.” It could be heard in the sitcoms, in high-school hallways and seen on products from T-shirts to muscle cars. Oh how I love cars 🥰
In 1977 a Phoenix auto dealership called Mecham Pontiac was customizing Pontiac’s sluggish factory TransAm and badging it the “Macho TA.” Believe me, the ‘77 TransAm was a real racing dog because I happened to buy one from Mecham just a few years later. The stickers were the most “Macho” thing about this bloated, under-powered, overly-emission controlled whale. From ’77-’80 only about 300 Macho TA’s were sold, almost all in Arizona, but nevertheless I think the Macho branding was marketing genius. The photo at the top is a Macho TA and the photo below is my personal TA.
OK so now you’ve had your refresher on the history and meaning of the words macho and machismo. Living down here in Mexico I hear these words used almost weekly. They’re basically used interchangeably. Usually by professors, journalists and politicians, and almost always by women. I heard it yesterday at the Gringo Thanksgiving by a “Karen” from Vancouver. There’s a diehard constituency that believes the Mexican culture is still a machismo culture.
Now, I don’t know everything about the Mexican culture, for sure. And I can’t claim to be Mexican or even have been raised Mexican, but I have an opinion as an informed observer. My opinion has been formed over 10 years of sitting in multi-generational homes of Mexican families and teaching to hundreds of Mexican men. I have strong anecdotal research. And my opinion is: Machismo, today, is a) not what it once was and has nearly died off completely, b) possibly “never was” and was as fake as a sticker on a muscle car, and c) is only used these days as a slang dig by women or a boast by men. In other words I’m saying Machismo is a myth.
Again, my rather large circle of men is broad and diverse – in age, geography, urban/rural, north/south and economic strata. I know men in their 20’s and in their 60’s, from doctors and lawyers to farmers and construction workers, from the Sonora border to Oaxaca in the deep south, with Guadalajara and CDMX in-between. In rural Oaxaca nealry all of the villages are run by women and the acknowledged head of the household is the wife – a complete role reversal from most of the world. Oaxaca is an outlier but with regard to the country of Mexico and its male/female relationships, my view is that the country has come into the 21st century to the same level as the United States and the modern world. What exactly do I mean by this?
Well, diehard feminists in the US are still bitching about equal rights, inequality and discrimination – as if it were still the 1950’s. I don’t buy it. There are signs everywhere that American women are receiving fair treatment – presidential candidates and other congress members, CEO’s, Billionaires and college graduates (60/40 female). If you want to argue the 70 cents on the dollar pay differential, hit me up with a DM and I’ll explain it to you. Try to stay focused here on chauvinism. Where Archie Bunker demeaned Edith if his TV dinner wasn’t standing ready after work… where Darren Stevens belittled Samantha in Bewitched… where MadMan’s Don Draper demanded his secretary rub his back. Etc., etc. Days gone by.
So, as I’ve gotten to know a few men, women and families down here, I see no evidence of residual machismo culture. And in fact – shock alert – I judge the Mexican males (on the whole) to be more subservient, more attentive, weaker, and in-general more respectful in their relationships, than American men. This year Dr. Claudia Sheinbaum was elected president in a landslide. In a machismo culture, really?
More tiny examples: nearly none of my male Mexican friends can spend a dime without obtaining permission from their wives. They can’t accept an invitation to Happy Hour without a problem or a concession. There’s no equivalent to golfing with the boys here in Mexico. They can’t lift a finger independently and they find it humiliating. What I do see is women throwing their sandals at their men as they scold them out the door (search: Abuela chancla for the memes 🤣). I see men getting kicked out of their own homes after a marital spat. And I see Mexican men respecting and obeying women at every turn. Some are what we would call “whipped” back in the States. They are well aware of their lot in life and embarrassed when they have to face me and admit it. In the Mexico that I know, the women are clearly the head of the household. BTW here there is a word equivalent to our word whipped: it is to be a Mandilón.
I’ll end on that note. I’m not really passing judgement on good or bad here. I hope you take away that I am neither Machismo nor Mandilón. I’m not in a relationship and shouldn’t be! That’s not the point. It’s just that as far as I can tell, MexicanMachismo is myth.
Yeah, that’s Bryan Cranston (a.k.a. Walter White/Heisenberg) from Breaking Bad. But it might as well be me! My RV is in the photo below his. Aside from not making meth in my RV, my days are pretty much the same as Heisenberg’s. I rarely get dressed. I shower and shave only when necessary. I’ve been here exactly four weeks and my pillow case of a laundry bag is only half full. My RV sits high in the jungle and I am so secluded from neighbors that I literally wear my boxer briefs everywhere and all the time. It’s so tranquil here that after 5pm I hear nothing but the waves crashing below. Retirement life is very, very different than normal life in so many ways. I don’t use a clock, let alone an alarm. I forget what day it is because there are no more weekdays vs. weekends.
My happy times are sitting outside of my 200 square foot Winnebago, reading or writing while sipping or smoking. Of late I’ve been trying to get better at flying my new drone. They say it can take video from 100 feet up but so far my only videos have captured epic crashes. I suppose like Heisenberg, I too pass alotta time scheming how to make a buck while doing as little as possible to actually work for one. What I’m saying here is that the biggest adjustments so far have not much to do with where I am, but more to do with retirement itself.
Instead of planning for class, or giving class, or caretaking my mother or her house – 100% of my thoughts are inward and selfish. “How can I meet women? …where should I travel to next?…should I get a dog? …should I do a fake marriage for residency papers? …is trailer life for me, or do I want an apartment? …should I exercise or join a gym? …why do I care if I’m 20 lbs. overweight anyway …what do I want for dinner?” On and on, over and over. Trust me – you’d be bored. Honestly, I am. This past month has been a well-deserved vacation. I can stand to do this a few more months, but then I’ve got to figure out what next year looks like. Open a breakfast burrito cart? Become an Amazon reseller? Teach ESL online and/or to the locals? Build a house? Hey I may look like Mick Jagger on the outside, but dammit I’m still young at heart!
The PROS:
The Weather
Sure, it’s hot and humid here. But it’s not too bad because I dress like Tarzan. September is actually the off-season and the local Expat population all went north for the summer. For the rich Expats it’s the usual October – April in Mexico and May – September in Canada or the US. The temperature’s been in the high 80s ever since I got here. I’d prefer temps in the 70s, who wouldn’t, but I’ll take this weather any day over the triple digits of Arizona and Sonora. I was so sick of the heat and even more so the full-on sun every day. I actually look forward to our partly cloudy days and afternoon showers.
The Coffee
I’m a coffee fanatic. Three cups a day. Expresso, Americano, hot or cold, I love ‘em all. I’ve tasted coffees from Brazil to Hawaii. From Jamaican Blue and from the scat of Phillippine monkeys. I can distinguish between some of the general coffee regions and discern some of the flavor notes. In fact the local coffee plantations are among the reasons I choose to locate in this area. I’ve long preferred Nayarit coffee over all other Mexican coffees, even the more popular, but too mild Chiapas and Veracruz varieties. The Riviera Nayarit has areas of volcanic soil and its lush jungles provide high canopy shade. Coffee plants (as well as banana, mango, guanabara, etc.) thrive in this hot, humid, ocean air. Next important is the roasting – not too long or risk carbonization and decaffeination (e.g. Colombian, Starbucks). There are several roasters in the area and I’ve found the “Goldilocks” one toasting the beans just right. Next is the freshness. My coffee was roasted this week; your coffee was roasted last month, or longer ago. And lastly, the preparation. Every morning I grind my beans and French Press them (not a euphemism 😉) In other words I am blessed with freshly cracked beans simmered in scalding hot water. Can you smell it now?
The Food
Red Snapper – Seared Tuna – Daily Juice
To be honest, I’m ‘jonesing’ for some American junk food. I especially miss the greasy hamburgers and French fries. There isn’t a chain restaurant for hours in any direction. Old habits die hard. While I lived in “tacos carne asada” Sonora, on weekends I was able to score a Culver’s Butterburger or some Panda Express. Chacala is a tourist destination and the restaurants here aren’t for me; they’re pricy and mediocre. By avoiding the restaurants I’m forced to eat healthier. The wholesalers to the restaurants however, have been a goldmine providing me with fresh artisanal breads and desserts, fresh ceviche and whole fish, and fresh fruits and vegetables for my protein smoothies. This region must be the capital of Banana Bread and I’m devouring at least a loaf a week 🤦🏼♂️ Cooking in an RV is a lot of work, but I have a lot of time and the alternatives are slim. Plus home cooking 95% of the time makes my bi-monthly trips into Puerto Vallarta all the more exciting. I’ve been twice now, the first time ordering BBQ Ribs and the second time ordering the seasonal stuffed and cream sauce smothered Poblano pepper called Chile en Nogada (made only in September for Mes Patria).
Chile en Nogada plate from Restaurant Andale in Puerto Vallarta
Not that I drink a lot, but, when I do, if it’s not a cold beer it’s a reposado tequila. And where does tequila come from? Only from the Mexican state of Jalisco. The village of Tequila, Jalisco is maybe a couple of hours from here. What you pay $20-40 for I pay $10-20. Plus I pass through Tequila to and from Guadalajara so picking up a few bottles is now a habit. A good habit, right?
The people. If you don’t know Mexico, then you don’t know that it’s both a dangerous place and safe place. This paradox makes for some misleading crime statistics. On one hand the country is run by the mafia. Mafia is the term used here for the Cartel, who are human and narco-traffickers. The crime between warring factions and among themselves is high. The death totals are staggering and the reporting of torture and slaughter is horrific. Given the comparatively small population of Mexico vs. the US, crime stats would lead you to believe it’s dangerous here. And it is – in Cartel-controlled areas. In areas that are not of interest to the Cartel, crime is very low, almost non-existent, as you would expect in any small town, rural or tourist area. Look, crime is simply not as ubiquitous here as it is in the US. It’s pocketed in hot zones and corridors, and almost completely cartel centric. All the more important to follow the news, take the toll-roads, never drive at night and never interact with the mafia. And that’s how I’ve made it 15 years living outside the US without much of a problem.
Oh, back to the people! Nayaritas are warm, welcoming, honest and helpful. As an odd-looking white guy speaking broken Spanish I make new friends almost daily. As far as women-folk, the jury’s out. Oddly enough, I had it pretty good in Nogales. I can’t explain why exactly, but Nogales and Sonora are home to some pretty gorgeous women. As far as Chacala, I don’t hold out much hope. Its numbers are too small for the odds to be favorable. On the flip side, the women of Guadalajara (colloquially known as Tapatias) are famously beautiful. Taller, thinner, better-educated and well coifed. And Puerto Vallarta, while saturated with LGBTQ, has numerous universities which tends to bode well for women of quality. I had a first date last weekend in Puerto Vallarta – just coffee. Let’s just say there won’t be a dinner date 🤷♂️ Nope, dating from Chacala won’t be easy, but outside of Brazil, when is it ever easy!?
The CONS:
The Cost of Living
Four years ago Dollar to peso 24:1
Today Dollar to peso 19:1
Two primary factors at play here. The first, inflation. So goes the US, so goes Mexico a year later. Your inflation problems have somehow infected us. I guess we are each other’s primary trading partners and there are a lot of things here “Made in the USA.” Most of the gasoline is still refined in the US, shipped as crude oil north and then shipped as gasoline back to Mexico. They need to build some damn refineries here! My old Yukon only gets 12 mpg and gas is costing me over $5 a gallon so filling up hits me for about $125! The second factor is that the pinche US Dollar is historically weak. Since 2020 the Dollar has weakened over 20% versus the Mexican Peso. I did not factor in this decline into my fragile retirement budget!
The Infrastructure
On the chance you don’t know, this is a second or third-world country. I’m not loving the dependency on filtered water for drinking and delivery truck water for bathing. Buying all this water is both expensive and inconvenient. I’m not loving living off of a generator-powered battery pack. This “modern” yet actually primitive way of juicing a house is too expensive to run an air conditioner and not powerful enough to heat a little air fryer. The owner of the RV wants to go solar and stay off the grid – Ha! He and I will need to have a talk when he returns next month. I’m also not loving the slow, spotty internet. Mine is provided over cell service and as I sit here typing, there is no cell service. None! Going on 24 hours now. And no cell service means no texting, no apps, no socials and no streaming. Thus the blog post! And don’t get me started on the condition of the roads. Thank goodness I have a lifted 4×4 truck because those that don’t are destroying their little cars. I live on 45 degree pitched dirt path which has all but washed away this month. It’s rock crawling to get from my place to town center. The five mile road to the highway is plagued with 100 potholes that will dent a steel rim if directly hit. And then the “highway” to the big cities is actually just a two lane, double yellow lined, 40 mph trail dotted with speed bumps and humps. Driving here really sucks.
So by my count – 4 PROS and 2 CONS so far. It’s a mixed bag. You could say it’s 66.7% positive at this point. The logical me says I can easily improve that to 80%, and maybe 90% with a strong effort and a little luck. Start eating better, exercise and lose 20 lbs. Get me some more friends, get me a woman, maybe a dog. Figure out the water, electrical and internet situation. Elon Musk’s Starlink? 90% good would be better than I’ve had it the last few years and would rival living in Rio de Janeiro, ah the memories. Hey, who among us can claim 90% paradise? DM me if you can 😉
deuceorama 