House Hunting

House hunting

                This past weekend it rained, a wintry rain with high winds, outside the traditional rainy season.  This means that once again the roads are muddy sinkholes, and the stream will be too high to ford by car, although one hopes it will recede quickly.

                Friday night Doug’s house suddenly went dark.  There was a power outage.  The power company (CFE) was closed for the weekend, apparently no emergency repair crews go out on the weekend, so I searched out a supply of candles and a lighter.  Actually, all the candles I had bought were still across the way at Michael’s house.  Oh well, it was time to go to bed.  I still had my small halogen flashlight.  Thank heavens that was not in my handbag, which was soon to disappear.

                My dirty laundry was piling up. Finally I had successfully arranged to have the septic tank pumped out so that the washing machine would not cause a backup to flood the bathroom floor.  I had not yet had a chance to take advantage of that.  I hand wash the smaller items, but when it comes to jeans, two pair at that, the electric agitator is preferable to my hand efforts.  However, without electricity I could not work the partially crippled washing machine.  [the spin cycle no longer worked; the water pressure is so poor that it would take over a half hour to get enough water for a small load, but I fill buckets at the sink and pour them into the washer to speed the process along; three buckets for washing, another three buckets for rinsing]. 

                These are some of the reasons I have decided to look for a temporary home in Canatlan, until my own house construction has been completed.  At the rate it is going, that could be six more months.

                I screwed up my courage to impose on one of my new friends.  Esther and Eloy are a warm and hospitable couple.  Esther came with me when I drove to Durango to visit the Immigration office, processing my residence permit. 

They had encouraged me to join them (and Esther’s sister Lupe and Lupe’s American husband Chris) in a night of an elegant supper dance, arranged for the alumni of the local junior high school.  Surely that is a sign of friendship.  I held hopes that at that dance I could network a little towards my house-hunting; the full-throated sound of that wonderful dance band with horns and strings did not lend the night to networking.  I sat in awe of Esther and Eloy as they stayed on the dance floor all night, with tremendous energy and elegant skill.

And so on Saturday morning I bundled my laundry bag into the car, with Dog, and drove to the far side of Canatlan.  They have an estate, with a home that meanders over many bedrooms and baths, the estate sprawling over many hectares and across the river. 

                I visited with them over a cup of tea as their washing machine did the heavy work.  In the course of our chatting, they invited me to join them that afternoon to visit old friends out on the dam.

                I had heard of this body of water, mostly referred to as a lake, and seen its image on Google maps.  This would be my first excursion outside of Canatlan in this direction, past El Presidio.  I was thrilled by the invite.

                I still had the bottle of expensive Tequila that I had bought for the Virgin of Guadalupe evening, when they had invited me to visit the sisters’ mother above the bakery.  On that evening, I had no details of the invitation, did not know if it included dinner and a crowd.  I bought this bottle so I would not enter empty handed.  As it turns out, it was just them sitting with the family matriarch.  We stayed a short time, and after Grandma took the polite shot, she urged us to take our bottles home with us.

                Here I was again, in fear of the social faux pas of entering a home with empty hands.  In spite of Esther and Eloy urging me to hang my laundry on their line, I insisted on bundling it up and taking it home to my own line.  I wanted to grab that bottle of tequila and take it with us to the lake, where I was sure it would be appreciated.

                When Dog and I arrived home at Luz de Compasion, I discovered that once again the lock to Doug’s house was being cantankerous.  Try as I may, I could not get the danged thing open.  Fortunately for the laundry, I had in the morning tucked a bag of clothes pins into the car, along with the laundry detergent and softener.  I got the wet clothes hung, and we bundled ourselves back into the car to return to their house, still with no hostess gift.

                Still needing to deal with the empty-hands situation, since the tequila was locked up in Doug’s house, I stopped at a beer store at the entrance to Canatlan, just a few doors down from Chris and Lupe’s house.  I had my wallet with me, and there I paid for some beer and a bag of chips.

                Did I take my wallet out of my bag before exiting the car?  This question hangs unanswered.

                I arrived back at Esther’s house, with yet another hour to wait before the appointed departure time.  I sat on their front wrap-around porch, overlooking the dry swimming pool, enjoying the pale winter sunshine.

                At 2 p.m. we bundled into the pickup truck.  Esther had in her arms a large basket of bunuelos that she had made at home, and her hand bag, and so we squeezed into the car.  I put the bag with beer and chips on the floor at our feet, next to her bag, and with Dog on my lap; I was squished against the door; nor room for another thing, certainly not by purse.

                It was a long ride to the far end of the meandering lake/dam, to a lovely country home.  The wind was up, that day, tossing the trees into a melodious frenzy.  We all piled into the house, with the extended family.  There was Rosie and her husband Heriberto. There were two young couples, I believe a son and a daughter and their significant others or friends.  The daughter of the house, Sophie, was without her Norwegian mate, who was in Brazil doing business at the moment.  I would meet him soon, on Christmas Eve at the family’s Canatlan house.

                I entered the small living room with Esther, and was introduced around to the women.  Soon I wandered out to the small porch which was crowded with rustic furniture; a round table, chairs and benches.  I only needed to wander back into the house to replenish my version of ‘tequila sunrise’, with a fruity bottled drink of orange and lime, and a little tequila.  Even though I was drinking from a juice glass, and being carefully moderate with the amount of tequila, by the third tasty glass I began to realize I was not just slaking my thirst with a fruity drink.  I made the third glass last much longer.  I relaxed in view of the mountains to one side, the lake to the other, and clusters of low trees dancing between.  Soon I had closer entertainment, as the men gathered around the barbecue in a masculine tradition.  Below the porch at ground level, and coming up to a few inches below the porch edge, there stood an empty barbecue grill of the simplest kind.  A rectangular metal trough, and a grate that would fit above the burning coals.

The plan was to do barbecue.  Heriberto had prepared wonderful beef cut into ¼ inch slices, and some bologna-type hot dogs.  This would be the main course.  And so the ritual commenced.  He layered the charcoal (which still retained the shape of the tree limbs) just so, explaining the technique to his son as he did it.  This piece of scientific precision was ready to be ignited. Here is when the plan began to crumble, or at least hit a speed bump.  Neither a match nor a butane lighter could hold a flame against the wind.  The helpful young men began to scour the surrounding weeds for small bits of wood.  They gave it a good try, gathering more and more such kindle, but the wind still beat them back.  Finally someone (ahem) suggested gathering a bundle of the dry tall weeds; at long last the fire took, and grumbling stomachs took heart.

                Dog, after years of hanging around Juan’s acres, was being initiated quickly to a whole world of new experiences.  Rosie and Heriberto, and their neighbors, had large country dogs of indiscriminate breed.  Dog sedately stuck by my side, and was not challenged.  She sat quietly at my feet on the porch.  She occasionally got up and walked around on the porch, sniffing this and that, but always stayed out of trouble.  She received admiring comments from the host family.  Unlike so many tiny breeds, she did not bark or threaten, but sat quietly, contentedly, with an ingratiating smile and a wag.

                In the course of the afternoon Esther mentioned to Rosie that I was looking for a house in town.  Rosie said she had that ‘little’ house in Canatlan that they only occasionally used, they could probably do without it.  She would call me when she returned from a quick trip to Mexico, probably in a few days.

We got home at last.  The wind had tossed my laundry about, but I retrieved all but one pair of underpants.  That would require, the next day, the assistance of the broom’s long handle, as I gingerly finessed the barbs on the wire beyond where the panties had blown.

This time I was able to persuade the lock to yield, and let me in.  I brought my laundry bag and detergent from the car; I did not see my handbag.  Well, in the light of day tomorrow I would find it in the shadows of the car.

But I did not find it.  Oh well, I thought, at least I have my wallet and my money purse, which I had tucked under the seats of the car.  Why and when had I done that?  Logic says I decided not to take my purse with me, only my drivers license (in wallet) and money pouch (too valuable to leave wherever it was I was leaving my purse; if not in my house, whose?)

Jim, from Oklahoma, had taken me for a walk one day pointing out the houses that he thought were empty and available.  He had also given me the phone number of a realtor in Durango who represented homes in Canatlan.  Jim introduced me to one property owner.  We stood at his metal garage door and knocked, and called out.  I heard a duck quacking; no, two ducks; a dog barking…?  When the elderly gentleman opened the door, he had at hand a very wide signboard advertising a house he has for sale.  Behind him, I could see two white ducks with very orange bills strutting; a couple of dogs were peeking between his legs; one, a schnauzer, managed to squeeze out of the door.  The gentleman said he raises dogs.  Being an animal lover myself, I thought I would like to get to know this family better.  Back to the purpose of our visit, he really had no small house or apartment to rent.

I called Claudia, the realtor in Durango.  She said she’d call me back, but she never did.  The real estate market in Canatlan is so empoverished…not that there are no houses being sold or rented, but their value would not yield commission enough to make a realtor’s trip of 45 miles one way worthwhile.

The housing market is very much in flux.  There are houses at all economic levels.  Adobe houses with crumbling exterior walls, up to the very nice house of my friends Esther and Eloy.  On the drive to their house I passed a house with a ‘for sale’ banner and a phone number.

A week later I was driving by this house and noticed the door was open.  I parked the car and stood at the door.  ‘Is this house for sale?’

They invited me in.  The mother and young adult daughters were in the kitchen preparing a light supper.  The husband showed me around the house.  It has archways bordered with large fieldstones. It was a blend of traditional Mexican and modern comfort.  The floors were tiled; the kitchen had two built-in breakfronts; the appliances were modern, including a large oven.  A courtyard surrounded the house on two sides behind the high wall.  Of course, the other two sides were the street, this being a corner house.  A garage door allowed the car to be pulled in off the street into the paved courtyard.  In the remaining corner is a free-standing room, about 12 x 12 feet. Now used for storage, the owner told me that in the summer it is nice to be in this room for its coolness. 

Inside there are three large bedrooms, all holding queen-sized beds with lots of floor space besides.  There is only one bathroom.  Maybe that alone is why they are now building themselves a larger, two-story house. 

Bottom line, the house is huge, far more than I need or could use.  I would have to think up a business that would justify so much space; AirBnB?  Rent to temporary workers?

The asking price is 800,000 pesos.  At the current exchange rate, that is about $44,000 US.  I enquired about the furniture, since I have none. He added that to the price, but then the wife started saying something about, ‘well if you really want the house we can negotiate that,’ when I stopped her.  I did not want to get their hopes up that I might buy the place.

My mind was flipping out, yes I want it! No, don’t be silly, as an investment could you really find someone to buy it down the road? But I want it!!  It is beautiful; I love the location; I could cover the outside with potted plants, even vegetables…   No!  you don’t want to complicate your life with this responsibility.  You’d be tying up your money in a risky venture.

Sigh

I was growing aware of the few apartment buildings in Canatlan, all downtown (which, mind you, is a square of about 9 blocks).  I asked in the shops, near those buildings.  Who owns these apartments, where can I get information on availability? 

One nice looking building had an open door to the stairwell leading up to the apartments.  I climbed the stairs and knocked on a door.  What is the phone number of your landlord?

And at last I had success.  The landlord came to meet me, and showed me the place.  It is clean and modern, even including a washer and dryer one flight of stairs above me, on the roof in a locked enclosure.  It is two bedrooms, one bath, maybe 900 sq ft altogether.  It has appliances and two beds, with built in cupboards in the bedrooms as is the custom here.  Otherwise, it is unfurnished.

The price is Durango price, way above the average rental of even houses here in Canatlan.  It is on the ‘second’ floor, which is actually the third.  This means a lot of stair-climbing.

In the end, I decided I was not going to do better.  The price, although high for here, was still well within my budget.

I asked, can I think if over.  The current occupant would be leaving the next day, then after one more day for cleaning, it would be available.  However, the landlord said he had someone else also interested.  And so I committed to it.

The next day I drove out to fabled Nuevo Ideal, a city down the opposite road almost as far as Durango.  There is a large Mennonite community there.  I heard they made good wooden furniture.

It was a lovely drive.  Halfway there I came alongside a body of water that followed me the whole distance.  It is a very large lake; I had no idea it was there.

I was very focused.  I came for one purpose, that is, to buy a recliner.  One day I would return and seriously inspect the furniture market. But for today, I only needed one thing.

I did not go far into town, but stopped at the first furniture store I came to.  It is obviously not the fabled Mennonite workmanship.  However, I did find a suitable recliner that didn’t put a wallop on my wallet.  I had to have the cashier call my new landlord to get directions for delivery (no additional cost; you won’t find that in Durango), and it was arranged for next day delivery, when officially I was to pay the rent and get the keys.

It was my Christmas present from God.  I took the place on December 23.

I took my time emptying my stuff from the Luz de Compasion site, one small bundle at a time.  In the first couple of days I made many trips up and down those steps.  Then I took my blood pressure, and it had dropped down to a youthful reading!  Hello, a little exercise goes a long way to good health.  Still, my obesity had me heaving for breath mid flight.

 Even after a week and until this day I have not found my purse.  Although my wallet and wad of cash was not in it, my passport and US phone were.  Not to mention my favorite ear buds.  Often in my life things have disappeared, and then days, months, years afterwards they would reappear.  Makes me think there is a hole in the universe where these things drop into, only to reappear at a designated time beyond my ken.  Is that where my purse is?  The last place I remember seeing it was in Eloy’s dining room, on the floor beside a chair.  They are certain I did not leave it behind.  [cue the Twilight Zone music]