Ocean breezes

 

It is a struggle to find a home when the pension is at subsistence level.  I am not alone with this problem; I know it is worse for seniors trying to live in the States.  I did not even try the States, knowing it would be impossible without additional help, like family support emotionally if not physically.  I had a modest savings account from my years of teaching in China.  I invested it in a non-profit development in Mexican countryside, that proved ephemeral.

I sold my Mexico farm home of seven years for much less than my investment in it.  Since then I have been somewhat subsidized by the new friends I met while the property was on the market.  For almost a year now I have been trying to find a less stressful environment for me and my dog, Junior.

Mostly I hung out in Durango, with the help of these friends. Throughout the years, I had visited Maazatlan as a possible retirement home, because I thought it would be nice to have access to the American culture, through the large number of snowbirds and smaller number of permanent retirees.  Each trip ended with the same conclusion.  There was no place for someone in my income bracket.

Then one day Oscar, one of those new Durango friends, announced that he had found and rented a house in Mazatlan for me and his new girlfriend.  Splitting the rent suddenly made it affordable.

Yet my life was not yet stress-free, nor relatively so.  The house was on a very busy street.  Junior, now four years old, was not used to city living and city traffic.  He was learning that when we crossed these busy streets, he had to watch me for his cue that it was safe to cross. As weeks went by, he became a little cocky, and would sometimes make the decision on his own.  I must say, he was usually right in his assessment, but there was at least one heart-in-the-mouth crossing.

He was developing ‘bad’ habits, like eating discarded food from the ground, and insisting to come with me whenever I got in the car.  He was canny in picking up cues like my carrying a handbag as I headed towards the front door.

The house had no trees growing in front.  It was one door down from the busy boulevard, and on a street subject to heavy traffic accessing the whole development.  Cars would whip around the corner on a red light; there was always danger of my car getting clipped by one of these reckless drivers as I pulled into or out of my driveway.  The public bus stop was in front of my driveway.  Noise, pollution, wall-to-wall concrete best describes life in this house.  I was growing to hate it.

The sharing arrangement lasted two months.  As we got to know this girlfriend, we discovered that she was not wholesome to have around.  Having a passive resistant-type personality, she was sweet to my face but uncommunicative.  Apparently, she would rather have the house without me as baggage.  Behind my back, she would call the landlord and talk trash about me.  She left, at m request, but then the full burden for rent fell upon me.  On a day when, fortunately, Oscar was visiting from Durango, the electricity went out.  He scurried around looking for a failure in the line, but I was still in the dark when he returned to Durango.  Next day I drove to the utility office to sort out the problem.  Turns out, she never paid the bill in spite of receiving money from Oscar to pay it.  I paid it, plus a fine.  Power was back on when I returned to the house.

Oscar had made a deal with the landlord to secure the house for us at a reduced rent.  He promised he would ‘fix up’ the house.  Maintenance had been neglected for some time.  Faucets leaked, the sewage system wreaked, the paint on the walls was blistering from the humidity.  His idea of getting things done usually involves coercing someone who was indebted to him in some way to do the work for Oscar, as long as it took.  This does not usually involve riding down the mountain from Durango to Mazatlan and sleeping over for three nights.  Experience taught me that the results, the quality of the work, could never compare with the job done by a professional.  I told him to hold off on this solution, to give me time to get to know the local market of professionals.  Nevertheless, he arrived late one afternoon, with a worker in tow.  He then took off to attend a prearranged meeting, leaving me alone with this guy.  I was to put him up in the spare bedroom.  This had a king-size mattress, and I had no sheets for it.  What ensued over the next 16 hours is a tale on its own, better treated separately.  They went back to Durango the next day; no improvements had been made.

One day a lady showed up at the door, with her daughter.  As it turns out, this is the actual owner of the house, with the most recent resident in tow.  They were curious as to what had really been going on in their house, and wanted to get to the bottom of it.  They were concerned over interactions between Oscar and the presumed landlord.  They suspected that Oscar was deliberately confusing the old man, and manipulating him.  What ensued over the next few hours was a fascinating conversation, and ended with the ripping up of the old contract and writing of a new.  The old contract did not have my name; only Oscar’s and his new girlfriend.  We ladies took charge, and removed the men and his plaything from the situation.

We ladies had a series of meeting.  They de facto lowered my rent, and I stipulated a five-month commitment, not six months.  I really wanted to get out of that place.  I figured I could get the maintenance work cleaned up by then, and will have found an affordable space, if one existed.

As I have said elsewhere, the center of my new life in Mazatlan is the Christian church, The Vinyard/La Viña. This is most likely where I will find my community, in my again-renewed retirement life.  On Sunday I asked around about information regarding housing.  I was passed along to this American retiree, Douglas,  and his Mexican wife.  He looked off to the distance and said, *finger snap* “I may know just the thing for you.”  We made a date to meet out at Punto Cerritos.

He failed to mention that he was the unofficial but exclusive agent for the property, which I would later discover after I had found a viable option for sale and tried to pursue a conversation with the lady who was eager to sell.  He sent me a message indicating that any future communications between me and her were to go through him.  She and I continue to try to communicate through WhatsApp, though I was having trouble finding her in the app.  She only has a US number. 

This Douglas, in our initial meeting at this for-sale unit, was answering all my questions about costs in terms of dollars.  My brain functions in pesos, so I was constantly converting, and clarifying; this is in pesos, or dollars?  I found the man to be pompous, officious, and annoying.  I did not understand why I needed his intervention.  I guess he is used to dealing with foreigners who are helpless in a Mexican financial environment.

This new opportunity comes in the form of an RV park.  I had heard of it, I had in previous searches over the years come across information about it.  Efforts I had made to learn more, to visit it, were thwarted.  Now that I meet Douglas, it occurs to me why.

 

It is on a twenty-foot bluff overlooking a rocky shore and rough surf.  Regulations stimulate that all roofs much be palapa, like the one in this picture.

The park has about five rows of lots, at their core is a concrete slab or 'apron', four or five per row.  Each unit consists of an RV on one half of the apron, and a concrete slab on the other.  Each seems uniquely designed, although walls to north and south sides seem universal.  The other two sides might have a half-wall barrier, or may be totally enclosed.

About four years ago, the whole place went up in flames.  Nothing was spared.  The unit currently for sale was rebuilt four years ago.  The RV hauled and put in place has no motor.  It will never move again.

It is a beautiful location.  No matter how hot the day, there is always a cool breeze blowing under the talapa roofs.  I have heard that, in the evenings, residents assemble at poolside and socialize.  I have not verified this rumor.  Especially now, as the season closes, there are not many residents remaining.  This is a popular resort for the snowbirds.

To buy out a current resident, the price will vary depending on the degree to which the living space has been developed.  The current prospect is asking $47,500 US.  That is a one-time expense, subject to wipe-out in event of a fire.  Of course, insurance is not an option here.  Then there is the ongoing expenses of garbage, water, sewer, grounds keeping, security guards, pool maintenance, whew.  That amounts to $450 US/month.  Are these people so certain in the exchange rate?  They seem not to consider the fact that it fluctuates.  Anyway, at the current exchange rate, that is 9,000 pesos.  I am currently paying 7,000 pesos in this house. 

There are vacant, undeveloped aprons.  I wonder what it would cost to find an old RV, move it in place, and pay for my own palapa roof.

This is my dilemma.  My quality of life would greatly improve.  Good bye traffic noise, pollution and cement.  Hello ocean breezes, flowers, and corrosive ocean air.

As much as Oscar annoys me, sometimes being my Angel, other times my Demon, I want very much to discuss all this with him.  I do not trust the American, Douglas.  I want Oscar to go in there and talk with the actual owners and caretakers.  But Oscar is not available these days.  As often happens, he has gone incommunicado; this can last for a month.  He has, after all, a 'vast' financial empire to maintain.

Trailer Park Punta Cerritos

Av. Sábalo Cerritos 3500, Cerritos, 82112 Mazatlán, Sin.