It’s a little after 7am. I’ve been awake since 4:30. This always happens in Mexico. Not because I have jet lag but just because everything–the light, the heat, the humidity, the smells–are so different that, rather than relaxing, I tend to get wired. And anxious. So when the sun finally came up this morning, I went out on my deck and took the picture above. What you are looking at is the wooden railing on my balcony with the pool down below. Those white blemishes on the railing are actually mushrooms. Growing in the fine cracks of my railing. That’s how humid it gets here.
I spent most of yesterday driving around Puerto Nuevo looking for the Immigration office (more on that later), which I eventually found in a building near Paradise Plaza that is also home to a casino and a hospital. To sandwich the Immigration office between a casino and a hospital makes perfect sense in Mexico.
Anyway, after about 5 hours at the Immigration office, I hurried back to Bucerias because I had arranged for Juan to meet me at 4. He was going to wash my car, the Blue Whale, which was growing almost as many mushrooms on the steering wheel and leather seats as my balcony railing since it hasn’t been driven since I was last here in May. I waited and waited for Juan to knock on my door but when he wasn’t here by 5:30, I went looking for him. I didn’t find Juan but I did find that while driving back from Puerto Nuevo, I must have picked up a nail or something because I now had a flat tire.
So I sent a message to my property manager, Ramon, who assured me that Bulmaro, who has fixed everything in my condo from a broken water heater to a leaky kitchen sink, would be here first thing this morning to have a look at my tire. That is what Ramon says–that Bulmaro will “have a look at the tire.” I hope he can do more than just have a look at it. What I would like is for him to jack up the Blue Whale, remove the tire, take it to whoever fixes tires in Bucerias, return with it, and put it back on the Blue Whale. All before one this afternoon, which is when I need to head for the Puerto Vallarta airport where I’ve assured my friend Jeff that I’ll be standing in the arrival hall to meet him and bring him back to Bucerias.
But how likely do you think it is that I’m going to have the tire fixed by one? Perhaps I should just go back to bed.
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