Getting Legal–License to Drive

driver

Most people here drive without bothering to get a license, it’s only a $200 peso fine if you are stopped by the transitos (traffic police) and you don’t have a license. I don’t have a license, although my moto has current placas (plates) and a permiso de circular (permit to drive) and is current in impuestos (taxes) y el refran (a yearly charge instituted to pay for the 1980’s Olympic games that up until 2012 was mandatory for all vehicles).

However, for some who enjoy a challenge, it is possible to get a driver’s license in México.

Here’s my husband’s experience. First, he had to make sure he had an official copy of his Mexican birth certificate, obtained from the civil office in his hometown of Cerano. We actually went to Cerano and applied for a new copy since the copy he had had been issued some 30 years before and was “different” than the newer versions or so they said.

Next, my husband had to obtain his credencial de votar (IFE) which is a voter’s registration card and believe it or not–free. This was obtained at the voter registration area (IFE office). He had to bring proof of residency, like a water bill or rent receipt. At the time, his parents were still living in Moroleón, so we borrowed a water bill from them. He presented his proof of residency along with two testigos (witnesses) who already had IFE cards from Moroleón to sign for him. We had only brought his mother, so she asked the next person in line to sign for him, a relative stranger. No one cared. The card came in about 20 days later and he went back with his receipt to pick it up.

Then my husband had a blood test at a lab to determine what sort of blood he is (o positive). This is listed on the driver’s license, I suppose in the event of an accident.

After that, he had to go to the community center for a physical of some sort. I’m not sure what this was for. His physical condition isn’t listed on the license, but maybe to determine if he was fit enough to drive.

When he had all these documents plus another proof of residency, like the electric bill we again borrowed from his parents, he took the originals and a copy of each to the transito (transit) office. In the office, he was given a few pages of the driving manual, not the entire manual, told to read it and take the test afterward. The first time he missed 7 (you can only miss 5 to pass). So he went back the next day, took the same test and missed 12, the same questions that were right the day before. The third day, he took the same test and didn’t pass again. So he asked what he needed to do to pass and slipped the $200 mordida (bribe) into his folded exam paper. He didn’t need to retake the test, nor take the driving section, nor take the eye exam, although he wears glasses to drive.

He waited around in the office for some other papers, the authorization I believe, which he took to another building, the oficina de recauado (payment office) about 2 miles away and paid there the $515 for a 5-year car driver’s license.

Note: The type of license is very specific. If you are stopped by a transito (traffic police) and have a license to drive a car but are driving a truck, you will get a fine. If you have a license for a moto but are stopped when driving a car, you will be fined. Etc.

Then with the papers marked paid, returned to the first building to receive his license. I haven’t attempted this process yet. I’m sure it will be even more tedious for me and I will need to present even more documentation. I can’t wait to tackle it.

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Good Fences make Good Neighbors–unless your neighbors steal them

fence
La Yacata is not yet a full-fledged village, but it does have residents. And having residents besides us, we have neighbors.

So let me introduce you to my neighbors.

First, our oldest neighbor is Don A. He has been planting corn in this area for over 40 years, so feels like he owns the place. He and my husband have an ongoing “turf” war over planting and grazing areas in La Yacata. One particular quirk he has is that if Don A planted a terreno (lot) before, even if the property has changed hands, he continues to plant there. When the new owner tells him directly, usually with some sort of implicit threat, that he may not plant there, Don A sprays chemicals and kills not only his own crop but also poisons the grass that our animals eat surrounding it. No amount of talking to him about the harm of chemical pesticides has done any good. Recently, he himself was envenenado (poisoned) by his own sprayer and even after spending nearly two weeks near death, he was back at it as soon as he could walk, spraying gleefully about La Yacata.
poison
He also is a big believer in veneno (poison) for stray dogs in the area (See 101 Perritos) and his decapitated poisoned chickens have killed numerous of our pets both cats and dogs.
flood
We recently experienced hurricane aftermath storms in La Yacata and as a result had higher than normal rainfall in a very short period of time. Our backyard flooded, a good section of our crops on the hillside were knocked over and two chickens drowned in these rains. We counted ourselves lucky and went about cleaning up.

But not Don A. His most recent offense was destroying the banqueta (sidewalk) at the bottom of the hill to make an arroyo (gully) to try and divert the water runoff away from his house. Seriously, I can’t imagine how he thinks this will work. The sidewalk is about 4 feet higher than the land it surrounds and thus, with the exception of hurricane rains, acts as a dam to keep most of the water contained. Now that the floodgates have been hammered open, I expect he will have even more water in his house.

Don A has also started a business making charcoal.  He cuts down trees and makes this sort of enclosed mud and rock structure to convert the raw tree to charcoal.  He then totes it back to town on his tricycle for sale.

This structure contains the fire which converts the wood to charcoal.

This structure contains the fire which converts the wood to charcoal.

sheep farmer
Next, I’d like you to meet Bull Terrier, the neighbor opposite us on the next road. He started out with a herd of 20-30 borregas (sheep). Every day, he would follow them around as they rampaged fledgling trees, flowers, and crops in their quest for food. He had the gall to tell anyone that complained that our measly flock of 5 goats were causing all this damage, which just simply wasn’t the case.

Bull Terrier soon found that borregas (sheep) required too much maintenance (See Separating the Sheep and the Goats) and traded them for pigs. Pigs don’t have to be taken out to graze. Of course, pig poop is terribly smelly, but that doesn’t seem to faze him. The odor from his house is horrible.
trash
Bull Terrier does like a tidy house though and every day takes out the trash. The only thing is, the trash tractor does not come to La Yacata for pick up. So what does he do with his trash? He throws it on the roof of the vacant house across the street.
pig farmer
Then there are the Pig guys. (See Miss Piggy didn’t bring home the bacon) After we ousted them from our backyard, they moved up the street to dirty someone else’s backyard. They continue to feed chicken intestines to their pigs, which makes pig poop the most lethal chemical gas in la Yacata, and throw chicken feathers wherever they have a mind. Piles of moldy chicken feathers smell to high heaven, just in case you never had the pleasure, and take longer than a plastic bag to disappear.

One of several piles of rotting chicken feathers in La Yacata.

One of several piles of rotting chicken feathers in La Yacata.

The pig guys have begun cutting down the mesquite trees with a chainsaw in La Yacata (on lots not belonging to them of course)–with the intention of selling it in town. Mesquite leña (wood) burns slowly and has a pleasant aroma making it ideal for cooking. Now, as La Yacata is a semi-arid region and no other trees grow here and the mesquite grows so slowly, this deforestation is likely to become a problem in the very near future. I am currently on a quest to see if I can get a picture of them at it to report it to the Departmento de Ecologia (Dept. of Ecology).

This guy just cruised right into La Yacata and started hacking away with his machete. He said it was because the trees looked

This guy just cruised right into La Yacata and started hacking away with his machete. He said it was because the trees looked “muy fea.”

Another neighbor up the hill and his truck loaded with green cut mesquite.

Another neighbor up the hill and his truck loaded with green cut mesquite.

The pig guys are also very confrontational. On more than one occasion, they have stumbled to our door to demand restitution for some plant or other than they claim our goats had trampled or eaten. The thing is, if it were our animals, we would take responsibility for these actions, however, it isn’t and being accused unjustly is enough to make anyone’s blood pressure go up.
robber
Moving up the hill, there is the horse guy. He began his list of sins by obtaining a property certificate under false pretenses. As I am in charge of verifying ownership before certificates are printed for La Yacata, this was a problem left at my door. Even after repeated requests, he has not returned the certificate, although a new one has been given to the lawful owner. He also “owns” at least 3 other lots that he has not registered. Since it is also my job to maintain a current padron (owner list registry) this irks me.  (See Who owns What?)

One morning, we were awakened by some banging and went up to the roof to investigate. There was the horse guy, prying off laminas (corrugated sheet metal) off a structure we call la chueca (crooked) for obvious reasons. My husband hollered and he scurried away. Later when we went to tie up our animals to graze, we could see that 6 or 7 sheets had been removed. The owner of la chueca is over 80 years old and not able to get out to La Yacata much to keep an eye on his investment. But you better believe that once we see him again, we will report it.

The horse guy was also seen removing bricks by the wheelbarrow from a recent construction site, tying his horse in cornfields not his own and making off with grava (gravel) and sand. After all this, my husband still went to him when he wanted maquila (stud service) for Beauty. (See Beauty’s Babies) The horse guy had 3 good looking stallions that he had reportedly “bought” and my husband paid $1000 pesos for an hour’s rental. I objected because nothing the horse guy does is on the level, but my husband went ahead with the deal. A week after this transaction, the previous owners came to claim the horses for non-payment. The rumor is that the stallions had been “vaccinated” to temporarily not produce sperm. As the horse guy provided the maquila (stud service) for at least a half dozen yeguas (mares) in the area, the joke is on the owners now believing their mares to be pregnant, like us. (See Immunocontraception)

Our new next door neighbor is a relative of the pig guys and yep, you guessed it, plans to put pigs in his newly built structure. You can’t imagine how delighted I am about that! During construction, my husband lent him our portable tinaco (water storage tank) and allowed him to leave his cement on our lot under a roof—again against my advice. He did this with the hopes that the owner would give him the construction job, but he didn’t. The workers he did bring in were not the most savory sort, but I expect they came cheap. They left their tortilla bags and soda bottles littered about the place. So every evening, I would gather it all up and throw it in the owner’s lot. And every morning, he would give me a dirty look, but I persisted until he told his workers to pick up the trash. That will teach ’em!

Lest you think all friendly feel is lost in La Yacata, we have some good neighbors. El plomero, although not as reliable as one might like due to his drinking, has always been ready to help out when needed. J. Gpe. of the Lpz clan also has been a good neighbor. He is the owner of the lotes prestados (borrowed lots we share-crop) and offers pleasant conversation, advice, seed corn and a handshake when he visits. The borrega guy and the cow barn guy on the street behind us, aren’t as friendly, but we have never had occasion to complain about their actions. And of course, my suegro (father-in-law) lives up the hill, so we often meet up under one of the few remaining mesquite trees for a Sunday afternoon cookout.

Recently, a new family has moved into the house that was el profe’s. It’s too soon to say what sort of neighbors they will be, but I hope that our fence is deeply entrenched enough to make good neighbors.

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Driving Hazards–Motos

moto man
I love my moto. In this land where having a car is a symbol of success, I thumb my nose at status and have voluntarily chosen this form of transportation. Most roads were designed for burros anyway and it takes some doing to cross town with even a small car, much less a truck like Butch. Using my moto makes every trip to town an adventure as I zoop around slow moving vehicles, piles of donkey dung and crater-sized potholes, outrun furious Chihuahuas nipping at my heels and fly over topes (speed bumps) just like a racing video game.

Parking is a breeze and, for the most part, I can cut around heavy traffic, go up one-way streets the wrong way, pass turning vehicles and park practically on the sidewalk. And I can haul more than you would think possible since my moto has a glove box and the seat opens for storage plus there is a front floor board to set plants or grocery bags or a small child on.

moto cart

My husband added to his moto cargo capacity with a nifty little cart and we only have to use Butch the truck for large hauls.

I must admit it is sort of cold some mornings with the wind rippling through your hair, but we dig out our scarves and mittens and bravely press on. It is also less than enjoyable to be a moto driver during the rainy season when buckets of ice-cold droplets pelt your face, leaving you drenched to your chonies (underwear). I have taken the precaution of keeping my bright yellow rain poncho in my moto at all times. I know I must look like a giant yellow canary, but it keeps most of the wet off.

Driving a moto isn’t as easy as you might think. Although my moto is not one where I need to change gears like my husband’s, I still have to balance a bit. As I mentioned, there are all sorts of road hazards to maneuver around: Pot holes, open or missing manhole covers, topes (speed bumps), construction material left in the road, uneven pavement, pedestrians, animals, babies running barefoot, double or triple parked cars, cars swerving around buses in the opposite direction, burros tied along the side of the road or roaming loose, etc.

Other moto drivers are often the most dangerous road hazard. They seem to have no concern in following the general traffic rules and weave in and out of traffic, up one-way streets the wrong way, up on sidewalks, around turning vehicles, directly in front of moving cars and more. They also can be carrying up to 5 persons each moto, with or without helmets or other safety devices. Sometimes without lights. Men, women and children ride motos, here not just Hell’s Angels. Newborns are wrapped in a rebozo and carried by the helmeted mother while the 2 & 3-year-olds stand on the floorboard of the moped and the bigger child rides backwards on the back. Imagine trying to balance that load of wiggle worms! Beware of the motos I say!

Helmet use is mandatory in some areas, optional in others. But in most cases, even when helmet use is mandatory, it seems to be just fine if the rider is wearing a plastic toy fireman’s helmet with a string under the chin to keep in on. We err on the side of safety in our household and require at least a bike helmet or stronger for both riders and drivers. Yet even wearing a big heavy moon landing helmet, my mother-in-law did not escape severe head trauma when mowed down my a police vehicle cruising at more than 200 mph. (See On life and liberty).

I also take the precaution of not taking my moto on roads where there will be fast and furious traffic patterns. In truth, it scares me to hear an 18 wheeler barreling behind me and not knowing if hugging the line will give it enough room to pass. For superhighway trips, we use the bus or take Butch, the truck. But my moto is the bomb to get to and from town and in the event of a flat, not so heavy that it can’t be pushed home for repairs.

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