So it’s been a few months now that I’ve been working at my online teaching job. I’ve been using the school computer room, which has both internet and electricity. However, with school events coming up, it’s become clear that I need to find a room of my own.
My first line of defense was to contact Super Prez. His family owns several buildings and sure enough, there was a room for rent behind one of their holistic stores. His wife stopped me on the road one afternoon to tell me to go and see Super Prez’s sister at the other holistic store for details. So I did. Only the sister didn’t know too much about it. She told me to go and ask la encargada (the woman in charge) who lived in one of the other rooms.
So I went, but she wasn’t in yet. I left my phone number but she didn’t call the next day. So I tried again the next evening. Much to my son’s surprise, his chemistry teacher answered the door. She also lived in one of the rooms and told me that the woman in charge would be there shortly. So we waited and she arrived.
She obviously didn’t want to show me the room although she had been told about me. I explained that I wasn’t looking to live there, but to work. She wanted to know what hours I would work and didn’t seem happy with the 10 pm answer I gave. (I’m actually only working until 9 pm most evenings, but really is that any of her business?) She continued to have the just stepped in dog doo-doo look on her face, but agreed to show me the room. The four rooms for rent shared a common patio and the bathroom. I wasn’t happy with that. I thought at least the room would have a bathroom. The woman in charge didn’t seem to like the look of my son. I don’t know what she thought he’d do, peek in windows or leave the toilet seat up?
She seemed relieved when I didn’t bother to ask the cost and thanked her for her time. The room itself was ok, but without a separate bathroom and with her continued hostility, I didn’t think either my son or I would be comfortable there.
Then one of my co-workers mentioned that there was a room/office for rent right across from her and next to the same holistic store that I had visited to talk to SuperPrez’s sister. Sure enough, there was.
The sign said that no children or pets were allowed. No problem there. My son is hardly a child anymore. And the rent would be adjusted according to the amount of space one would be using. Seemed ok, but then I remembered that it’s half a block from the center of town. It would seem ideal except for the part where the bandas (musical groups) play until the early morning hours and I need quiet for my online classes. You would think a half block would be more than enough however as we can hear the bandas quite clearly all the way to La Yacata—well, the volume would be horrid that close.
So then we drove past a place with a sign out front that seemed lovely. I oohed and awwed about it until my son said it looked like that old lady movie I liked to watch. Then I nearly peed myself laughing. The old lady movie he referred to was The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and yep, it looked much like that from what we could see from the front gate.
So I screwed up my courage and rang the bell. An old lady with purplish-red hair eventually made it to the front door. I asked about the apartment for rent and she said the only one available was 3 bedrooms. I didn’t bother to ask the price–downtown, three bedrooms, in a hacienda type building meant out of my budget. Sigh.
So then the other English teacher at my school said that the house across from her was for rent. She took it upon herself to get the number and call for information and set up an appointment for me to see it. I was beside myself with excitement.
The teacher vouched for my character, otherwise I probably wouldn’t even have gotten the appointment. It’s quite a feat to find a place to rent in our area. Quite stressful actually.
The owner lived in Yuriria and couldn’t make the first appointment time. I was downcast. I had to wait another 24 hours to see it and yes indeedy, it needed work. My son didn’t go with me to the appointment. He had teenage things to do. It was painted this horrible green–literally every inch of the wall, some of the floor, the doors and even part of the curtains. The ceiling had holes in it, the toliet leaked, the boiler looked like it had blown up, and some of the electric sockets smoked when you plugged it in.
Despite all that, I rented it. It was the same price as the first room where I would have had to share a bathroom with 4 other women. Calling it a house is a bit of a stretch as it is a little bigger than a bread box, but I don’t need too much space.
I was determined to make it work!
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Surviving Mexico 