Log #56, May
Springtime in the Tropics (and elsewhere)
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May 27th
East Wenatchee
A training exercise
Balmy weather fooled the East Wenatchee Fire Department into thinking it was calm enough for a controlled burn, but it wasn't. Seeing a huge plume of smoke in the sky, Stan, Leslie and I tromped down the hill to play looky-loo. At the scene, neighbors informed us that the fire was deliberate, a training exercise using houses that were going to be cleared off the land to make way for new construction.
Unfortunately, a downwind neighbor, not an original subject of the exercise, received a new hole in his roof, thanks to a miscalculation of wind strength. The fire chief took alot of flak for the damage because he assumed that a prediction of 15 knots was a safe margin. He didn't realize that he could get gusts to 20. He should have asked a sailor.
(top l to r) Mark, Don, and Dad
(bottom l to r) Edita, Aunt Mac, Leslie, and MJ
Blue skies and temps brushing the 80's, not only good for burning down the neighborhood, was also conducive to travel back and forth between Wenatchee and Moses Lake to visit with Don and Aunt Mac.
Leslie examining Don's bee houses
According to Don there are bees, other than honey bees, that are beneficial to crops. They're a boring bee that also help with pollination. To encourage them, Don constructed bee homes and swears fruit production increases when the little guys move in.
Stan and I will be experimenting with bees when we return to Manzanillo with one of Don's bee houses - if customs doesn't confiscate them as strange contraband.
Edita, Leslie and MJ
Great Spring weather was also conducive to setting up the back yard barber shop. Leslie shaped my lousy cut into a more presentable look, and Edita clipped on Leslie's hairline, as well.
May 20th
Manzanillo --> Puget Island --> Castle Rock
Manzanillo airport at 8:00 AM
Lou and Diane graciously volunteered to haul us to the airport at 7:30AM. Not thinking too clearly, Stan and I assumed that international flights would require the prescribed 3-hour prior check-in to accomodate customs and immigration. For the first two hours, however, the airport was virtually empty. We were there to greet security and cleaning staffs as they arrived. If we had thought about it in more depth, we would have realized our 11:00 Manzanillo to Mexico City flight was a local. Our ticket counter opened to receive checked baggage at 9:00 and we were allowed through the departure gate at 10:15.
The Puget Island
ferry approaching the ramp on the Oregon side
Both Stan and I prefer having lots of time to spare at the airport, rather than rushing around, panicked, but no problema, all three legs of our flight from Manzanillo to Portland connected like puzzle pieces. Mexico City immigration stamped us out of the country at a handy-dandy kiosk set up in the international flights concourse - 5 minutes. Phoenix immigration, baggage claim, customs, and baggage recheck funneled us through, one right after the other, as we deplaned - 10 minutes. The efficiency was simply amazing, leaving Mexico and entering the US couldn't have been easier or more convenient.
(l to r) Mark,
Arnold, Stan, Leslie and Erica in the Curtis' kitchen
Mark and Leslie flew in from Florida, and we hooked up with them at Thrifty where we all hopped into a brand spanking new Dodge Caravan - the odometer read 1 mile - and headed out in search of the ferry landing for Puget Island, a verdant mecca floating in the shipping channel of the Columbia River.
Cousin Erica and husband Arnold have settled eight acres of pastures and barns on the island with two horses of their own, a few extras boarding, two Britneys and two prowling cats. Springtime was well established on the island, Rhodies and then some painted the place in a riot of bloom - much greener than the jungle we'd just left on the brown cusp of dry season.
Chelsea and Lucky on the trampoline
On Puget Island the food orgy that was to define this PNW vacation began. Arnold stuffed us with smoked salmon and crab knuckles, and then whipped up a gourmet bouillabaisse from three prime specimens only hours removed from the Astoria fishing fleet. Then Erica brought on her prize-winning apple pie, and continued to stuff us with breakfast scones the next morning.
Saturday afternoon the orgy continued. A couple of hours up the Toutle River, in the shadow of Mt. St. Helens, brother Casey and niece Chelsea presented us with gourmet pizza. Chelsea and Lucky also entertained with their choreographed trampoline act.
Lucky was named for his timely rescue. Chelsea picked him up on the highway after witnessing a very close brush with oncoming traffic in which he received bumps and bruises, and a new home. In return, he is totally devoted. Although not allowed indoors, he follows Chelsea from room to room, dashing window to window to keep her in sight. When she goes out to play with him, he's in canine heaven.
Mark and Leslie
attacking the stuck door on the Dodge rental van
Under a threatening sky, we four vacationers proceeded over White's Pass toward Wenatchee and Dad's place. The original plan was to overnight on the pass and enjoy some wilderness hiking, but a forecast of two inches of snow discouraged these fair-weather southerners. We pressed on into the Yakima Valley, over Blewett Pass and into Apple Valley, where more food awaited in the form of Edita's chicken and rice, lasagne, and pork adobo specialties, as well as barbequed elk burgers.
May 12th
Boca de Iquanas
Adobe barbeque on the beach at Boca de Iquanas
B&B and new walkway under construction on the Boca de Iquanas beach
BuckyKat and Gale
Diane, my friend from language class, flew to Manzanillo next to an Oregonian who built a house in Boca de Iquanas. He wrote directions to his place on a cocktail napkin for Diane, which subsequently went missing until last weekend. Once found, she and partner Lou piled into the SolVan with us, napkin in hand, and we set out on an expedition.
Boca sports the most gently sloping beach we've found in these here parts. After wandering the deserted seaside, we hiked inland in search of casa de Mike y Sheila, which we found on our second foray, this time on wheels, exactly where the napkin map said we would.
Mike and Sheila own a cedar shake business in Oregon, but have been migrating to this area more and more often the past few years. They carved a homesite out of the jungle, constructed a home, and then added a full second-story palapa to it complete with bath, kitchen and loft, all open to the great outdoors. Very cool, literally.
Contractors in Boca, as well as many other locations around and about MX, are capitalizing on environmentally friendly developments - they're using the language, at least. A huge 'green' complex is building in Boca. They've razed the jungle and are building condos, houses and humongous swimming pools.
In the construction process, they've cut off access between the only road into the village and facilities on the other side. A big B&B was cut off, guests must beg to cut through the otherwise off-limits construction site, until the walkway from the beach is completed.
Another purpose of our foray north was to make contact with Caravan, Gene, Vici, Fiona and Clipper, who are staying in the Barra de Navidad marina for the summer. They are also designated cat sitters for the next couple of weeks while Stan and I whisk away to the Pacific NW for our tri-annual visit.
The little ole SolCasita will be bursting at the seams. Gale has enjoyed positive contact with the canine community, before this ... Bucky's oblivious. Their two weeks with a cute little Skipperkee ought to be enjoyable for all. And maybe, between Fiona and Clipper, they can finally wear out our ADHD BuckyKat.
May 9th
Manzanillo Football, Continued
by guest sportswriter, Stan
When in Rome, do as the Romans do…. Play soccer! According to a survey conducted by FIFA and published in the spring of 2001, over 240 million people regularly play football in more than 200 countries in every part of the world. Its simple rules and minimal equipment requirements have no doubt aided its spread and growth in popularity. What does that have to do with Stan, MJ and our life in Mexico?? I (Stan) have discovered soccer or as it is called here, fútbol.
In Mexico, the major league of fútbol is called the “Primera División” which contains the teams everyone knows about, Chivas, Ámerica, Pumas, etc. There are 18 teams at this level and their games are on television all the time.
Below this are three other levels; Primera División A with 20 teams, Segunda División with 68 teams in 5 groups, and the Tercera División with I don’t know how many teams. Anyway Manzanillo has teams in both the Segunda and Tercera División and play at a stadium only about 4 miles from the house, an easy 10 minute, 5 peso bus ride away. The tickets cost 30 pesos for the Segunda División and 20 pesos for the Tercera División (add one decimal place and you have a quick dollar conversion). Cheap 2 hours of entertainment.
Setting up the field for exercises
Pregame picture of refs and captains
Grounds keeper choosing a ball boy
Goalies, separate pre-game warm-up
Team roll call
I have been to 5 games now, 2 Segunda and 3 Tercera and am fascinated by what I call, The Pageantry of Fútbol. A few of these observations can be made watching games on television, but you need to go to a live match to see all of this.
Before the game, while the teams are warming up, the referees come out on the field and warm up as well. They do not wear their uniform shirts while doing this, nor do any of the players wear their game jerseys while warming up. However it is very curious to watch the referees go through a structured warm-up ritual. It almost seems scripted and the three officials go through it almost in perfect synchronization.
After the warm-up the ball boys are presented to the referees and receive their instructions. These are young pre-adolescents who are selected out of the stands and whose job for the next 2 hours is to stand in the sun with a ball in their hands and when the ball in play goes out of bounds nearby, throw the ball to the player so they can continue play. Then the ballboy retrieves the other ball … oh, yeh, and continues to stand in the sun.
Then everyone leaves the field and returns dressed for business. When the players come onto the field most of them bless themselves and most of those actually touch the field with their hands before genuflecting.
The referees gather in the middle of the field and the two sideline officials are dispatched to each end to inspect the goal, ensuring all is okay with the netting. Then they return to the center and report to the head referee that all is well. Then comes what I call the team ‘inspection’. The teams gather on each side of the kick-off circle and each team captain presents the head referee with their team's roster. The referee then gives the roster to the opposing team captain, who proceeds to the other team and calls roll from the roster, visually identifying each player, all under the supervision of one of the sideline officials.
That is followed by the photography session. A group photo is taken of the three referees, then another is taken of the referees with the two captains. After smiling for the camera, the referees do a group hand shake amongst themselves, I guess they're saying, “Call a good game, let’s go out there and blow those whistles and swing those flags with authority!”
Finally we get to the game, which begins promptly at the scheduled time. It is probably the only thing in Mexico that operates as scheduled! I forgot to mention that after everyone is on the field the gates to the field are locked by the groundsman, he's the same guy who is also responsible for recruiting the ball boys before the game.
If someone gets kicked out of the game, the gatekeeper hustles over to the gate, unlocks it, then promptly relocks it once the offending player is off the field. During this time play is stopped until the gates are secured again.
Substitute players are persona non grata before the game, during the game and at half time. They are identified by special sleeveless shirts. Before the game they exercise together, having their own workout routine, which is less demanding than what the starters do. The subs do gather for the team inspection, but otherwise they lead a separate life. During the game subs quite often exercise on the sidelines trying to keep loosened up and ready to go in when necessary. Curiously, during half time, they don’t go into the locker room with the starters and coaches. They stay on the field and continue to work out at a low level.
Remember the nice little timeouts (commercial breaks) in American football where the assistants bring out holders with sports bottles to squirt into the open mouths of the players? Well, in a soccer game that runs virtually non-stop for two 45-minute halves, that doesn’t happen. If there is a short stoppage for an injury or a penalty, plastic baggies of liquids get tossed out to the players on the field, who pick them up off the ground, bite the corner off the bag and drink. When finished, the players toss the bags on the field, which gives the ball boys something to do at half time, pick up empty drink bags (plastic bags are used a lot for drinks at sidewalk carts instead of cups, it is not at all unusual to see someone walking around with a plastic bag of liquid with a straw sticking out the top).
Lastly, let’s discuss the sideline officials. There is one on each side of the field and they seem to work opposite ends of the field. However, upon closer inspection, one can see that they keep alongside the ‘next-to last defensive player’, the last player being the goal keeper. I put that phrase in quotes because that wording shows up in the explanation of the offside rule. This seems to be the primary function of the sideline referees, besides calling who has possession after the ball goes out of bounds.
That brings up one more point, what is out of bounds? Unlike American football there is none of this discussion about; were both feet inbounds, did the player touch the line, or would he have come down inbounds if it weren’t for the defensive contact. In fútbol, play continues until the entire sphere of the ball is over the line. No mention of the player, only where the ball is.
May 6th
Santiago Cemetary Wall
Scrape away the old, erect the new,
and hope skeletal parts don't come poking out
Filling in behind the new wall ... in the foreground, new darker pavers in the parking lane and
concrete squares on the new sidewalk
Eddie, our neighbor and landlord, has told us that we've seen more changes in Santiago in the two months that we've lived here than he has seen in the past five years. One of the biggest changes has been the face-lift the roadside is receiving, which includes paving the shoulders and constructing sidewalks, plus some strategically placed walls, like at the cemetary.
For those of us addicted to hoofing it, the new sidewalks are saving us slogging along in ankle-deep, brown talcum powder. With the face-lift, we can cross the highway and actually meander the three miles to school without leaving one dusty footprint.
Finishing touches on our side of the highway has slowed. It's the side with banks that must be shored up before the sidewalk goes in. One tricky repair has been the cemetary wall. It's an old, old cemetary and the original adobe separating the boxes underground from the pedestrians above, was melting. Workmen scraped back to the original wall, poured a concrete wall over a frame they cut from rebar and welded by hand, then filled in behind.
May 5th
Manzanillo Football
One would think that soccer being the national pass time and all, everyone would know where the matches are held. But, no, it took Stan two bus rides and the help of two cab drivers to locate the stadium right in our own back yard.
The paper announced the matches, times and place, so Stan went off in search of the stadium. First he inquired at a sports shop how to locate the Gustavo Vasquez Stadium, where the second- and third-level teams play. "Oh, yeh, it's in the neighborhood and the #22 bus will get you there."
A game of the level-3 football league
From the stands, announcer at the football match
Hopping on the #20, Stan again asked, "Do you go past the stadium?"
"Oh, sure."
Well, when the bus wound around a few barrios and then headed off towards the hinterlands above the port, Stan figured it was time to exit and try again. This time he picked up the #2 bus and asked the same question, with just about the same result. After bailing out of the #2 as it wandered off in the wrong direction, Stan flagged down a taxi. Surely a taxi driver would know the town by heart, and how hard is it to locate a stadium - big field, covered seats, fans, noise?
Taxi driver #1 assured Stan that oh, yes, Estadio Gustavo Vasquez, right here close, I can take you there. They buzzed off down the street, but within two blocks the taxista screeched to a halt alongside another taxi, rolled down the window and yelled across to taxista #2, "Hey, where's the soccer stadium?"
Finally, someone actually seemed to know, really, for sure. Directions were hollered back, and off they zoomed. A quarter mile later, there it was tucked back behind the hospital in the middle of the block ... and within four miles of the SolCasita.
May 1st
An Offer!
One helluva deal
Happy birthday to me.... As a present, another offer came in on SolMate. This offer was exceedingly low and very depressing, but we accepted it. The lucky buyer, if this deal really goes through, will be getting a whole suite of cruising goodies worth twice as much as he's paying, and oh, yes, a custom package to hold all that cool equipment, a fine cruising boat, thrown in for free.
We just can't stand to have our beautiful girl sitting in the yard all summer, piling on the dirt and crud of the yard and broasting in the San Carlos sun. And even though the selling price is lower than low, and I can't believe that we're letting her go for such a piddly sum, it's more than we SolMaters have in our pockets right now....
I sincerely hope that the prospective buyer understands what a sweet, sweet deal he'll be getting. I don't miss the cruising life so much as I'll miss the old girl that we (especially the shipwright) poured so much of our souls into.
