The Mexico Diaries: El Brujo

Miss Vicky came by today to see how things were going. Fine, I told her, except I had no air-conditioning and there was a small lake in my kitchen from multiple leaks beneath my sink. “I don’t think you should stay inside your condo all day,” she said. “You need to get out.” She was looking at the bloody caesar in my hand and probably mentally noting that it was not yet noon on a Tuesday.

I can’t go out, I told her. I’m waiting for Bulmaro or one of the repairmen all the time. They have this amazing knack for showing up just when I’ve gone to take the garbage out and then it takes another two days to reschedule them. Well, why don’t you come to dinner with me in Bucerias, she said. She would be dining with friends at El Brujo.

There are a number of restaurants situated right on the beach in Bucerias. They are, for the most part, indistinguishable from one another. They all have plastic tables and chairs in the sand and are shaded by frayed umbrellas advertising Corona or Pacifico and serve large but not particularly good margaritas and local seafood. The two things I like best about restaurants like El Brujo are drinking while wiggling your bare feet in the sand and watching the sun set. Also, if you have a dog, as Miss Vicky does, you can eat while throwing a stick in to the surf for them to retrieve.

So Miss Vicky played with her large mutt, Reno, and I explained to Miss Peggy and Miss Lisa the problems I was having with leaks and such in my condo. “You should just fire this guy,” said Miss Peggy. “Absolutely,” said Miss Lisa. I explained to them how Señor Rivera’s wife had died of cancer a little over a year ago and how he was raising two little boys by himself. “Well, that’s a bummer,” said Miss Peggy, “but that doesn’t excuse him from doing a shitty job managing your property.”

Miss Vicky sat back down, exhausted from throwing the stick for Reno, and we ordered dinner along with another round of margaritas. I’m going to bring my plumber over to your place to look at things, Miss Vicky said. I told her I didn’t think that was necessary since Señor Rivera had already scheduled a plumber to check things out. Yeah, said Miss Vicky, but my guy is really good. He can also hook your water purifier up to the ice maker in your fridge so you don’t have to buy bags of ice anymore.

Well, I didn’t know about that. I’d resisted doing that after buying my fridge because it seemed like there were always plumbing problems involved with automatic ice makers. Still, it would be nice not to have to keep a 10-lb. bag of ice from Oxxo in the freezer. It made it so difficult for finding room for the vodka.

As we were eating our chicken poblano, she made a call and it was all arranged. Her plumber would be over at my condo tomorrow morning. Now I just have to break the news to Señor Rivera.