SolMate Santiago Logs

Log #67 April, 2008

Upgrade: the FM2 Visa Application

28 April, 2008

Established Mexican residency can lead to benefits, one being negating the need for the fideicomiso. That's the bank trust holding our little Calle 2 house for us, required by law for foreigners' properties within 50 km of the beach. Stan and I pay a hefty chunk of change, annually, for the priviledge.

If we could get the government to recognize us as residents, maybe we could avoid the fideiomiso. The government had been accepting the FM3 tourist visa to fulfill residency requirements, but recently changed their interpretation to require the FM2 resident's visa, instead.

So, playing the odds that the government won't change it's mind, again, we began the FM3/FM2 change-over process. Changing visa types is a costly little endeavor, but should save us some cash, later ... like in five years, we're hoping ... unless law interpretation changes, again.

The winning entry
unlovely, but serviceable

A new type of visa requires a whole new file at immigration, all new papers, letters and pictures. The nice folks working at the immigration office couldn't have been more accomodating. They were courteous and extremely helpful; nor could the woman at the counter have been more apologetic when she explained that the picture I'd had taken for the new visa wasn't acceptable.

Why unacceptable? Tiny little earrings that nobody but her boss had noticed - I didn't, the photographer didn't, and the clerk didn't; however, nothing but nothing is allowed to cover even a portion of one's features, neither hair nor earrings, so it was time for a re-do.

Since my US passport was expiring and I printed my own digital pictures for that, I decided to chance it with Immigration and print my handiwork to the MX visa standards, my own little experiment, just to see if Immigration would accept them. They did! What a shock. The clerk even showed them to her boss for final approval while I waited.

I'm hoping my experience at the US Consulate in Guadalajara is this easy. I'll let you know, we're leaving today for an appointment with them on Wednesday.

The Tenacatita River Ride

23 April, 2008

Fifty hairpins north of Manzanillo, Tenacatita

Just ask Stan - I don't passenge well. One with the imagination of Steven King envisions monsters around every hairpin curve, or at least a semi driver asleep at the wheel, wandering over the centerline.

But, other than permanent indents on the passenger-side grab bar, our second foray Tenacatita-way turned into huge fun, and was well worth the palpitations.

Tenacatita's two bays, anchorage for cruisers (top)
beach-side restaurants (bottom), joined by a swampy freeway

Jay, Janice and the Buster-dog met us in the Ceilidh dinghy at the lagoon behind the palapa restaurants. They had already jumped the bar and braved the 4-mile jungle ride, once, risking life and limb and the possibility of playing bumper cars with a panga or two just to visit with the ole SolMaters. Stan and I hopped aboard with them and meandered off on an African Queen style jungle tour, back the way they'd come through the mangrove swamp. Very cool.

Jungling with Janice, Jay and Stan

The four of us only toured half of the whole jungle route, cuz a world-famous rollo-del-mar was shouting our names from the palapas.

MJ and Buster on the bow

We spent the rest of the afternoon lolling under beach umbrellas with good food, in great company. I purposely forced down a couple of Victorias so that by the time the Ceilidhs pointed their dinghy back towards the anchorage, and we turned the van's snout towards home, I wasn't so worried about hair-pins, any more.

A Small Cloud over a Great Beach, La Boquita

17 April, 2008

Conveniently located a leisurely 3 - 4 mile beachwalk from the SolCasa stretches a wonderfully flat beach lined with ramadas, outdoor palapa restaurants.

La Boquita beach and lagoon, on the left

On the far end of the beach is a large lagoon populated with mangrove wildlife, including crocs - out in the bay, a quiet anchorage populated with cruising friends and a sunken wreck for snorkeling fun.

La Boquita Beach looking back at Santiago

Closer in sit fishing pangas and banana boats waiting for tourist trade. Jet skis are of the bring-your-own variety - some fare better than others.

La Boquita beach, the other direction

Up the beach aways hovers a little cloud ... in my mind ... over a bar and restaurant. They're eager to draw in the tourist trade.

A Beach Restaurant

A little too eager, with terrific happy hour specials as lures. Unfortunately, I found out up-front-and-personal how they manage those terrific specials. Grain alcohol. Two little margaritas (seriously little, served in a highball glass) and I thought I'd slugged a whole bottle of isopropyl. Skipped straight past pleasantly giddy to falling-down, blacking-out drunk ... a very unpleasant experience.

Horror stories abound about the all-too-common practice of bartenders pouring from unmarked jugs. Last year we'd heard rumors of a cruiser's death associated with the sleezy, under-handed custom of substituting decent tequila with home-made rotgut, but we had pooh-poohed the stories. Now, I'm a believer!

My innate thrift had protected me from this evil form of alcohol poisoning up 'til now. Early in our travels, I broke the code of drinking in Mexican restaurants. One can supply a whole table with beers for the cost of one margarita or one glass of wine. With such great beer to choose from, Bohemia, Negra Modelo, DosEquis, Victoria ..., why would a cost-conscious cheapskate like me order a margarita? You can bet I'll be sticking with bottles, even for happy hour on an idyllic beach, from now on!

Visitors Out Back

5 April, 2008

Balmy spring day, the sweet scent of orange blossoms wafted through the silent house punctuated by the occasional thump of suicidal mangoes.

Bucky and guests on a ladder outside her window

With all witnesses out of the picture - Stan's off sailing - I was enjoying guilt-free quiet time, ignoring a stack of dirty dishes, a thirsty garden, and a thousand acres of rotting fruit (at least a thousand). Suddenly, frantic scratching and scaping, the all-too-familiar sound of Bucky breaking out of prison, or trying her best; and a weird metalic scritching.

Fruit-filled and docile

SolMate Santiago contact: mj(at)solmatesantiago(dot)com