The Mexico Diaries: Señor Rivera

A flower vendor in Bucerias. Photo by David Lansing.

A little over a week before I arrived in Bucerias, I e-mailed the man who takes care of my property, Señor Rivera, and asked him to go through the condo and check everything to make sure it was in good working order. Turn on the air-conditioning, I urged him, and let the hot water run for awhile. Flush the toilets and see if the shower heads are blocked with the heavy minerals and salts that course through our water supply system like cholesterol in a heart-attack victim. Turn on lights, see if the internet is working, and make sure the linens have been washed.

Three days later I got a one-sentence reply: “Everything is perfect.”

Señor Rivera is a man of few words.

When I opened my front door, the sequestered heat and humidity inside my closed abode blasted me backwards. I opened doors and windows to get some air circulating and then decided to speed things up by turning on the air-conditioning, which I almost never do. Except the little red light on the Mexican thermostat did not come on. And no air was coming through the vents.

I went to wash my hands but there was no hot water. And in the kitchen, the light was also out on my water-purifier. No air, no hot water, no clean water. Feeling just slightly annoyed, I opened up my laptop to send Señor Rivera a quick e-mail to complain. Except I didn’t have internet service. Instead, I hiked back up the hill to the palapa next to the administration offices of my complex where there is slow but free internet and sent him a rather long message complaining about all the things that weren’t working. Then I sat there on a sagging couch in the outdoor living room beneath the palapa and waited. Half an hour later, I got a response from Señor Rivera: “Bulmaro is on his way.”

Bulmaro is Sancho Panza to Señor Rivera’s Don Quixote. He is lovable and sleepy-eyed and a man who will do whatever Señor Rivera requests him to do, even if he has no idea how to do it. In fact, he usually has no idea how to fix the problems in my condo but he always shows great interest in them nonetheless.

I walked back to my condo and waited. An hour or so later, Bulmaro was at my front door holding his hat in both hands. “Un problema?” he asked. Like Señor Rivera, Bulmaro is a man of few words. I flipped the air-conditioning switch to show him it didn’t work. He doubted my technique and had me move aside while he tried it for himself. When it refused to turn on, he tried it again, this time moving the switch more slowly. No success. Next he flicked it on and off several times rapidly. Nothing. Finally he shrugged. “No funciona,” he declared.

Clearly, I said. But what can we do about it? He held up a finger as if the solution has just appeared to him. He got on his cell phone and called Señor Rivera. Mister David’s air-conditioner does not work, he told his boss. A few other words were exchanged and then Bulmaro handed the phone to me.

“Bulmaro says your air-conditioner is not working,” said Señor Rivera. “That is why you cannot get cold air.”

Ah.

After a few more revelations along this line, Señor Rivera determined that perhaps the best thing was to call an air-conditioner repair man. Which he would do immediately. Meanwhile, Bulmaro would continue his inspection of my condo. Which he admirably did, quickly determining that my hot-water heater wasn’t working nor was my water-purifier. He called Señor Rivera to report back and then the phone was once again handed to me.

“Bulmaro says your water-purifier does not work,” Señor Rivera informed me. A repairman would be needed and he, Señor Rivera, would call them immediately. As well as a plumber. As for the internet, the Telecable office was already closed. He would call them in the morning.

“So you see,” Señor Rivera happily told me, “already we are working on everything.” And with that, Bulmaro quietly slipped out of my condo and rode away into the sunset on his little scooter.