Month: October 2022

Posted on

Leaving Mexico

Two weeks ago, on my way to the airport, I was giddy with excitement, knowing I was going back to my happy place ~ being with Ernesto in Mexico. I couldn’t wait to get there.

I pictured seeing the ocean again and smelling the wonderful salty air. Watching sunsets over the Pacific.  Having breakfast on the patio. Swimming in the pool. Taking long walks after dinner, when the nights were cool, through the beautiful grounds of our rental community.

None of this happened. Once we arrived in Mazatlán, Ernesto disappeared. I was lucky to see him a couple of hours of day. I never saw the ocean or swam in the pool. I watched glorious sunsets from my bedroom window, before the world went dark.

Ernesto made excuses for his absence. He had to work. He quit his job and needed to wait at the job site for a final paycheck. He wanted to meet with an attorney to find out which of his brothers had taken out a loan and used his mother’s house as collateral. He was beaten up by thugs who demanded he turn the house over to them. He had to go to the social security office to apply for a pension. He lost his phone. None of this was true.

Twice Ernesto was gone for more than 24 hours. I didn’t know where he was. I knew I was safe but I didn’t know if he was. My Spanish isn’t good enough to survive on my own. My lack of a sense of direction is legendary. I wanted to go for a walk but I was afraid I wouldn’t find my way home in a community where all the streets and homes look alike.

In the few hours when Neto was home and not asleep, our conversations were ugly. Neto was quiet and kind,  telling me what he thought would keep me from screaming at him. I was not rational. I didn’t mince words. I was bitter and angry. I barely recognized myself. I thought some crazy woman was sitting on the couch in my place. I knew that things were not going to get better. 

Tuesday, when Neto again didn’t come home overnight, I went to the airport, bought a last minute ticket and left. Neto called me from a pay phone as I was on my way to the airport. I told him I was leaving and asked him to go to our Airbnb rental and pick up his things.

On Wednesday, Neto texted me to let me know he is in residential treatment again for drugs and alcohol. Those of you who have read Neto’s story know that these are demons that have chased him all his life. 

Did I suspect that Neto had relapsed? No, I didn’t. He was clean for such a long time. He hasn’t abused drugs for almost 20 years. He’s been sober for ten. But I knew Neto was lying when he said he lost his phone. There were other things he said that were fishy but I never suspected he was using pills and alcohol. 

I am glad Ernesto is in treatment and getting help. Services for addicts in Mexico are available and good. Neto has been in rehab before and has made it work ~ but it is hard work.

I believe that Ernesto will work hard in order to be clean and sober again. And I have work to do, too. Our time together was a nightmare. I was like someone out of a horror movie. I really was! 

Ernesto was selfish and deceptive. My response was frightening. I never want to be that person again. I said horrible things in language that was shocking. Now that I am away and now that Neto has finally told the truth, I know that both of us reacted in ways that are understandable ~ but unacceptable. We both have a lot of healing to do. It all starts with telling the truth.

Posted on

A Rough Beginning

I landed in Puerto Vallarta on Sunday, October 2nd. I knew it would be rough because there were warnings of a Category 4 hurricane up the coast, from Puerto Vallarta to Mazatlan. I didn’t know how rough the beginning would actually be.

First the hurricane. My plane landed on time, without incident. Neto took off from Mazatlán the night before. Usually his bus ride to Puerto Vallarta takes seven hours. Because of the hurricane, his ride took seventeen.

I heard from Neto after my plane had landed and he was still four hours outside of  Puerto Vallarta. He’d been on the bus all night, while the bus was battered with wind and rain. Roads were washed out by mudslides. I waited sitting in the only chair I could find, at the Subway restaurant inside the airport.

We spent the next two nights at Las Palomas, a lovely small hotel in Tondoroque, across the road from the crocodile farm and Flamingos golf course.

Tuesday morning the weather was beautiful. The hurricane missed Mazatlan but hit Rosario, a small town south of Mazatlán. By the time it made landfall, the hurricane was downgraded to a Category 1. Roads and fields were flooded but damage was minimal.

We went to the bus station early Tuesday morning and bought two tickets to Tepic. The ticket agent assured us that we could get a connecting bus in Tepic and be in Mazatlán by 4:00. Not so.

We arrived in Tepic and was told that there was only one seat available on the bus to Mazatlán. Another bus would be available in three hours, at 2:15. p.m. 

We waited outside, eagerly watching for bus #2008 to arrive on time. Aye, no! An official looking woman let us know that the bus coming from Guadalajara had a flat tire. 

“It will be here in two hours,” she assured us. I should have known better. Mexican people are famous for telling you what they think you want to hear, rather than what is actually happening. It was almost 5:00 by the time bus #2008 arrived. We were still four hours from Mazatlán.

Ernesto called our host throughout the day, to let her know we were going to be late. When we arrived the host told us she couldn’t meet us.

“I’m sorry but I have a commitment at my son’s school.” Really?? By this time it was 10:0, on a Tuesday night.

Between Ernesto and the taxi driver, we were able to get through two security gates and find the key to our unit. It was not at all what I expected.

The kitchen cupboards were broken. Doors were off their hinges and the drawers wouldn’t close. Living room furniture was dirty and worn. There is a washing machine but no dryer. The patio is not warm and inviting. In fact, it is downright ugly. The host has mostly 5-Star ratings. I thought we were in the wrong house.

That’s when Ernesto let me know that his boss called and he needed to go to work “for a few hours.” He arrived home at 9:00 the next morning. The security guard who was supposed to relieve him, never showed up. Neto has no access to his phone at work and I had no idea where he was.

“All the guards stayed home during the hurricane and never came back,” he explained the next morning.

The same day (Wednesday) when we were going to go to the store for groceries, Ernesto was called into work at 3:00 p.m. His boss promised him double pay and reduced hours. He made a quick trip to the local convenience store for a loaf of bread, some mayonnaise and a package of Chihuahua cheese for sandwiches. 

“I should be home by 10:00.” By now, you know what happens next. Neto wasn’t home by 10:00 p.m. He was home by 10:00 the next morning. I told him to quit the job. 

“Don’t expect to be paid,” I told him. “We’ve been through this before.”

On Thursday, Neto went to work, cleaned out his locker and resigned. He waited until 5:00 to pick up his final paycheck, which never arrived. None of the other guards were paid either. They are all still waiting.

On Friday, Neto got up early, in search of his paycheck. While he was at the job site, he decided to go for a swim in the ocean.  We still hadn’t been to get groceries. I was out of patience. We were out of food. I hadn’t seen the swimming pool.

I sent pictures of the broken cabinets to the Airbnb host and told her we were not responsible for the damage. I made myself yet another cheese sandwich. I was a screaming banshee. I told Neto I was miserable and wanted to go home. 

But today is better. We finally made it to Walmart for food. I’ve seen the pool and it is lovely. I’m looking forward to a more promising week ahead.

Posted on

I Loved Lucy

My friend, Lucy, died last week.

Lucy and I moved into Heather Gardens Building 210 the same week and we quickly became friends. In a building where most people stay hidden behind closed doors, Lucy was an exception. She was out and about every day. A day without Lucy was a day without sunshine!

Here are the Top Ten Things I will miss most about her.

#10. Her wicked sense of humor. She loved telling me whenever there had been “a murder on the golf course.” She was referring to a goose who had been killed, usually by a coyote. She took me see the murder scene. We never found the goose but the area was littered with  feathers. I helped Lucy gather up the feathers to take home, much to the chagrin of her family, who are still cleaning feathers out of her apartment.

#9. Her laugh. Lucy was often the first person I would see in the morning. Her big smile and hearty laugh always started my day out right.

#8. Her stamina. Lucy walked all day long. She put more miles on her walker than I did on my car. 

#7. Her stories about growing up in Texas. Lucy was a great story-teller. She had a big life and her stories of rodeos and boarding school were magical to me. I grew up in Minnesota, where life is “pretty friggin’ boring” as Lucy was fond of saying.

#6. Her authenticity. Lucy told it like it was. There was no bull-shit from Lucy. 

And #5 … no filters. She maybe never had any filters. I found it refreshing to hear her swear every now and then. I hope this isn’t new information to any of you who knew her. I’m losing some of my filters, too.

#4. Her genuine love of people. Lucy made friends wherever she went. One day she sat on a bench with a new friend. They had such a good conversation, the woman gave her one of her old straw cowboy hats to wear. Lucy wore her new cowboy hat all day long, as she pushed her walker up and down the sidewalk.

#3. Her ability to amuse herself, especially when it was challenging to do so. She talked to her cat. She called dumpster-diving “my new hobby” and was delighted when she found a new treasure to haul home. She watched squirrels steal food from her bird feeder. She took special delight knowing that bird feeders are against the rules at Heather Gardens.

And #2. Lucy didn’t mind breaking the rules. I only wish she had lived a little longer, so we could break a few more.

#1. Her love for her cat. But mostly her love for her family ~ two daughters, one son, and her grandchildren. She loved above them all.

Adios, mi amiga. Vaya con Dios!