The mystery and miracle of a spontaneous life

I think the headline is a little more profound than I'm feeling right now, but today I'm aware of how life works out exactly as it is supposed to, no matter where I was originally headed or thought I should do.

Michael and Karen Schamel, friends from our lake home in New York, enticed us into leaving the Arroyo Seco compound for a few days of rest and recuperation from a load of guests, too much fun and too much polvo (dust).

It was exactly the right choice.

One day we headed out to find a small village recommended by the manager of the B&B we were staying in Comala, north of Colima. We took a wrong turn (yes, I misunderstood the fundamental directions) and ended up in Colima again. We decided, heck, let's just do our quick errand in Home Depot while we're here.

We ran into a friend from La Manzanilla, Jim Ferry, who we didn't realize has lived in Colima for years, who was also shopping in Home Depot.

He tells us the one, incredible, almost-secret best place to have lunch and watch the volcano and draws us a map.

We spent a fantastic afternoon sipping margaritas, eating ribs and watching the volcano burp smoke rings high up on the mountain --- the only people in the restaurant, which overlooks both the volcano and the city of Colima. It's run by an Ejido (Mexican cooperative), which also runs a campground by a sweet lagoon.

When we returned back to the B & B in Comala, even the owners didn't know about the restaurant.

For me, it was another great reminder to let thing flow, that things are exactly as they are supposed to be if I'll just get out of the way and let things happen.

A second miracle continues to be our neighbors in Arroyo Seco, who always reassure us through their actions that we've made a great decision to live here.

Michael and I were headed home to what we knew would be a pile of dust on the palapa floor and wilting plants because Michael has just transplanted a lime tree and some palm trees, a bouganvilla. Last night we discovered that Chon has reinstalled our drip system to keep all the plants thriving, while Chena and the kids swept and mopped every flat, tiled surface. And that's a lot of surface.

Really, it leaves me speechless. And grateful. And feeling like I have a lot to learn about this lovely culture, that would have a family come over and make things 'right' before their neighbors arrive home tired from a three-day vacation.

Wow.

Arroyo Seco gets pretty quiet

It's been a rolling, 24/7 party since our first guests arrived in early February.

Son Dylan, Cousin Ruth, our good friend Laura, and Dylan's friends from Berkeley, Ginger and Lewis, all helped us beta test the Pink Flamingo, to see if this hairball idea of some type of communal living in this tiny Mexican village is viable.

The answer is a tentative, si.

We all survived the experience, had a lot of fun, and got a ranked list of what's next to make this place comfortable for a bunch of us.

Lights in the palapa.
More hot water for showers earlier in the morning.
Screening in or closing in the kitchen.

Oh, and beds....

Not bad, considering we hit the ground here in late December and had flush toilets and a somewhat functional galley within six weeks. Unheard of in Mexico. Maybe in the U.S.

When I woke up in Arroyo Seco the first day after everyone had taken off, a wave of loneliness swept over me as I realized it was the first morning that no one from my newly acquired extended family would be there to drink tea with me on the palapa.

Having like-minded folks stay with us in Arroyo Seco reaffirmed my commitment to this experiment. I find I enjoy the privacy of my own home but find my life more enhanced when we live in a compound of like-minded friends and family who also like to live cooperatively.

And like to surf, swim, snorkle, boogie board, drink coconut milk, sip tequila, teach English and Spanish, dig trenches, talk with our Mexican neighbors, paint new concrete walls, plant palm trees and sweep a lot of dust off the palapa floor....

After a good siesta that same day, we headed out to have dinner in La Manzanilla with eight of our family and friends from New York, spent the night at Kate's lovely beach rental, then continued the party at breakfast with the Hector cousins as son Dustin did a drive-by on his way to Zihuatenejo to do a week long job.

Today I'm aware how hard it will be to stay focused for the remaining months as I continue to study Spanish.

But I'm also aware that there's no chance that the party won't still be there when I lift my head up from my books.

I had a quick visit with Sasha in Puerto Vallarta on Friday when I drove Dylan up to the aiport for his return to San Francisco. She's almost 6 months old and perfect.

Of course.

And for those of you who have been asking, Michael is much better. Many, many siestas are in his immediate future for the remainder of the cure, but his cough is nearly gone.

Band picks us up to party in Arroyo Seco

It's BIG doin's in the pueblo of Arroyo Seco this week, the tiny rancho we live in just north of La Manzanilla and Tenacatita Bay.

King Kong, Chena's brother, and Veronica, Chena's niece (by marriage, not by blood) are getting married today in an event that should draw more guests than we have residents here.

Cousin Ruth, our friend Laura from Calgary, Dylan's friend Ginger and I have been helping Chena and Veronica make the hundreds of elaborate table decorations for the event. Almost every evening this past week we'd pop in and tie ribbons, glue lace to things, write Veronica and Jose Antonio's names hundreds of times of various decorations. It's been a easy way to get to know some of the women in the rancho and a less intimidating way for me to practice my Spanish. Women will always find a way to communicate. Which we really did at the bridal shower, which was more like a stag'ette party and made me laugh until my face hurt.

A huge tent has been erected in the field behind Chapon's house, King Kong and Chena's father. Apparently the wedding cake weighs more than 6 kilos and has a fountain at the top. The wedding is early evening, the reception will undoubtedly go all night. There will even be security for the village, probably not a bad idea.

Yesterday evening we got home from a nice, long afternoon on the Tenacatita beach with our friends Karen and Mike Schamel from Hector, NY to find that Chapon, the family father of the town (and a more official role as well) had dropped by to let us know that there would be a band at his place and, Laura and Michael thought, that he would be by to pick us up. They weren't exactly sure.

We didn't really understand the full impact of that message --- a lot of language and cultural differences going on.

So, quite literally, Chapon and the band stopped by before sunset and 'picked us up' for the fiesta at his house.

It's the best damn way to be invited to a party, bar none. You're certainly sure you're invited and you party all the way down the street.

After dancing a few tunes in front of our place, one of the 'dancing' horses in town led us down the street with Laura, Chapon and Alfonso leading the parade.

The whole event so far is way out of my life experiences and also so positively overwhelming. It's not always been easy to share a life, day to day, without a common language and cultural background. But last night reaffirmed what a great, amazing decision it's been to make a home in this tiny Mexican village, just minutes from the beach.

We did it! The toilets in Arroyo Seco flush on Feb. 1!

For those of you following the progress of our building in Arroyo Seco this year, we've made real progress.

First showers! First flushes! First fiesta with the new outdoor kitchen.

A lot of firsts.

Yesterday we celebrated the completion of all the concrete construction with a lot of food for the concrete Maestro and his son, Antonio, who is headed back to school on Wednesday. It's hard to imagine the adjustment of returning to the high school classroom in Sayula after six weeks of really hard work with his father. Perhaps it will feel like a vacation?

The outdoor kitchen has a new brick floor but not much else yet. But yesterday my friend Francisco, a former cook in Napa, and my neighbor Chena pitched in and saved the day.

I was flying solo since Michael has been down and out sick for a few days and unable to help. His soaring fever had me researching all kinds of potential tropical diseases.

Fortunately there is good medical care here and the doctor in Careyes diagnosed him with a lung infection and an early case of pneumonia. He's already on some strong drugs and hopefully on the mend.

So, the construction status is as follows:

• Almost all the tiles in the bathrooms and laundry room are down --- and would have been finished today had I bought enough floor tiles. Ugh. Another trip to Manzanillo coming up.

• The new, low water, high velocity toilets flush occasionally. We'll make some adjustments to these high tech things tomorrow and I think they'll be fine.

• My kitchen is getting pretty usable but I have to figure out how to keep the dust down and the flies out. All guests will be required to submit their design ideas on their cocktail napkins, prior to dinner.

The next step? Landscaping! It's a lot more fun here when you stick something in the ground and it just about starts growing that second.

My brother David is visiting right now. Dylan arrives Friday. Cousin Ruth arrives Sunday.

Hopefully that means the construction phase in Mexico is offically transitioning to the vacation stage....

A birth, a death, and life inbetween

It's been a monumental few weeks here in Arroyo Seco and La Manzanilla, Mexico.

A Baptism

A very nervous godmother accepted her responsibilities to Devani on Sunday at the Catholic Church in La Manzanilla. I wasn't nervous about helping Devani -- we've been involved with her since before she was born, and her mother, Mimi, and her grandmother, Irma, have become close friends. And her great-grandfather is Xavier, who has taken care of many of us when we've stayed at Santana's in La Manzanilla.

The problem was the thought of the ceremony in Spanish (no, I'm not fluent yet) in a church service in which I'm unfamiliar. Several of the Mexican children in the village had advised me that the Padre would ask me many questions and just say 'si'.

Gulp.

We took our 11-year-old neighbor, Brianda, with us, with a request to nod or shake her head if I turned to her during the ceremony with a look of panic.

Fortunately, the Padre decided to ask all the questions of the padrinos --- the godfathers. So Michael got to squirm for a bit but did fine. And, yes, he's now official a Godfather...

One of his most important responsibilities was throwing pesos and candy to the children (and adults!) waiting in front of the church after the baptism. He handled it like a pro, of course. Our neighbors say that if you don't throw gifts, the children will fart at you --- I guess a Mexican concept of 'trick or treat'?

The loss of a friend, Isabel Jordan

Some of you have heard that a good friend of my cousin Lynn and her partner Suzanne had taken a bad fall from some stairs the first night she was visiting in them in La Manzanilla. Michael and I were called upon to take her to the emergency service north of us in Careyes, where the doctor confirmed she had two fractured ribs and some internal bleeding. We were told to drive her on up to Puerto Vallarta to the hospital where a surgeon would be waiting. Careyes has two ambulances but no paramedics or drivers.

After a week in the hospital, two surgeries, dialysis and other interventions, Isabel passed away from a heart attack at 81.

Should any of you think, well, she was 81, she wasn't like any 81 year old that I've known. The Monday I drove them all down from Puerto Vallarta to La Manzanilla, I had bought two low water, high volocity toilets, chairs, and a lot of other provisions for our Arroyo Seco compound. When we arrived in Arroyo Seco, Isabel and Michael unloaded the truck into the bodega, our California garage. She was stronger and more sure footed than I am --- and probably more than most of all of you.

I only met Isabel this winter when she officiated at Lynn and Suzanne's wedding in Marin, just days before Prop. 8 (to ban gay marriages) was officially approved by the voters. She was an icon in Yalapa and will be missed by many.

What Isabel taught me in my short time of knowing her is that 81 doesn't have to look like what I thought it would look like, that I should remember to live each day like it's my last, and that those of us who live in rural areas of developing countries have given up the luxury of 911.

All good reminders.

In other news...

An apprentice

It's been lovely getting to know our construction maestro again this year. He built our wall and the palapa last season. This year he brought his 16-year-old son, Antonio, with him while his son is on a long holiday from school (they go back mid-February). Antonio works side by side with his father, learning a trade –– and much more –– from dawn until past dark. Their home is in Sayula, where the Maestro and his son return by bus every 10 days for a three day visit. While they're working, they live in a small rental house in Arroyo Seco.

The constant murmur of conversation while they work is a delight --- sometimes I see them stop and laugh and talk if one of them is making an important point. If I'm moving something heavy, one of them races over to help. Sometimes they will stay for a late, light supper and talk with us.

It's a joy to see a father apprentice a son --- maybe it's something our country could relearn as we try to strengthen the fabric of our American culture.

No mas construction!

We're closing in on this year's construction in Arroyo Seco --- fortunately our money has run out at the same time as my patience. Everything has gone exceptionally well. It's just that I hadn't realized the full impact of having people in your home making a lot of dust and noise from dawn 'til dark and the constant lack of privacy. So whatever we've built by February 1, that's it for me this year.

Sure hope the new toilets flush by then. Because it's time to start going back to the beach.

An 'open mic night' in the Pink Flamingo palapa

Tonight we were so happy to have our palapa (our big, covered pavillion) finally finished that we skipped the open mic night at Palapa Joe's in La Manzanilla to enjoy a quiet evening at our new home in Arroyo Seco.

It had been a long day.

We took Lucky Dog to his second visit with the vet, which is a whole 'nother story. It was almost 4 by the time we got home and hopped on the Honda 4WD quad for long ride down the beach towards Tenacatita to a freshwater lagoon for a late afternoon swim.

By early evening were back at the palapa with our 12 year old neighbor Brianda, who was attempting to give me some Spanish language lessons –– but she doesn't speak English. Since I can't speak Spanish, it was challenging and worth a few laughs. Finally Michael came out and rescued us --- his fluency is rapidly improving.

Somehow that morphed into my grabbing my violin and Michael's ukulele to play a tune or two for Brianda. Before we knew it, we had a gaggle of kids at our table pretty much vibrating with excitement about the music, the new gringos, finally sneaking into the palapa, who knows what else?

The 10 or so kids were generous with their applause –– they danced, asked millions of questions, tried strumming and fiddling and were so uniformly enthusiastic that it was enough to make me laugh aloud.

They want to learn to speak English, they want to learn to play rock n' roll, they want to know all about everything. And when it was time to go home, every single one came up to me to say buenas noches –– good night –– and shake my hand.

It was exactly the kind of evening I had imagined when Michael and I decided to build the palapa in the front of the property, before we had a plan for whatever else we might do here. We're still unsure of what the heck we're doing, but whatever it is, for tonight, it's more than enough.

Hoping to find a verb for my sentence

Today I was reminded how the heck Michael and I have come to live in this little rancho of Arroyo Seco, Mexico when a friend asked how we made the decision to move here and build a home in 'el centro'.

When Michael and I decided to sell our beloved boat, Sabbatical, it took us both about a year to figure out 'what's next?'. We were back in Sacramento, back at our jobs at the university and kind of flailing about. We knew pretty much since the day we met that we would go cruising and traveling. Now that we had done it -- had pretty much sucked the marrow out of that experience -- the question lingered: What else do we want to do?

Eventually I came up with my short list:
I wanted to live in another country.
I wanted to learn another language.
I wanted to learn to play the fiddle.

This is our second year living in Mexico, our first year in Arroyo Seco. If I wanted immersion, if I want to learn the language, learn the culture, well.... be careful what you wish for?

It's exhausting. Fun! But mentally exhausting.

Tonight we had dinner with our neighbors and friends, Chena and Chon, and their children Brianda, Dani and Juliet. No English spoken at this table, por favor.

I vacillate between frustration and progress. Tonight I asked a question in a complete sentence and it was just about a conversation stopper.

Muy sorpresa!

We've only been here for about two weeks and Michael assures me I'm making progress. I can't tell. But now that the parties are slowing down a bit, I'm going to find a tutor to work with me every morning until a verb slips naturally off my tongue.

The hardest part for me as I learn to communicate in Espanol, poco a poco, is my inability to make small talk, to break the ice with people, to include people in conversation. Here I feel standoffish because I don't know what to say or how to say it, especially as I'm simply walking down the street near our house. I don't have the vocabulary to comfortably get past the morning salutations.

Upcoming events include a baptism (we're the godparents!), a housewarming and a wedding. I don't know how long it will take before social dialogue can be part of my new language rather than 'where are the bathrooms?' but motivation is high.

As to the third item on my list, I've been learning to play the fiddle for almost three years now. The hardest part, at first, was that it takes exactly the same part of my brain to learn the violin as it does to learn a language. Really a strange sensation.

Now that I'm a little more confident in my fiddle playing, I'm hoping that part of my brain can be diverted to language learning.

My immediate goal? To sound less like a toddler and more like a teenager by the time we head north in June.

I'll keep you posted. Wish me 'buena suerte!'
Dani and Juliet, Brianda this Christmas.