Tag Archives: living in Mexico

Up on the roof–that nearly wasn’t

roof

Our goal this year was to add a roof to our second floor. (See Building a dream–constructing a life) We started saving in June or so in the hopes that by the end of the year we would have the $20,000 pesos we estimated we would need. In October, Chuy, who lives up the hill above La Yacata and rents wood for construction, offered to exchange the wood we would need for the roof for our horse Beauty. No cash would exchange hands and both parties would be more than satisfied with the transaction. The deal would save us between $3,000 to $3,500 pesos. Hands were shaken, plans were made and we continued saving.

wood

Wood framing for the roof.

Chuy came for Beauty in November with the understanding that we would be ready for colando (wood frame put in place) the week prior to Christmas break. My husband made arrangements for the coladores (men who put the rebar in place and make the cement) to come on December 20 and went to request delivery of the wood. However, Chuy said he didn’t have any wood available at the moment. My husband had already purchased the sand and gravel and had the order for the cement delivery with the loan of a cement mixer, but we wouldn’t be able to use any of that if the wood framework was not already in place. There were several days of heated exchanges between my husband and Chuy. Fortunately, my husband had not given Chuy Beauty’s papers since the deal hadn’t been completed yet, so we were in a more secure bargaining position. The ultimatum was, either the wood was there on the 15th or Beauty came back to live with us. Monday morning came and there was a wood delivery–not everything we needed though. The next three days were tense as my husband and my father-in-law used each delivery of wood and requested more for the following day. Because of the piecemeal delivery, they were still working Saturday afternoon, the day the coladores came to set the rebar and el plomero from up the hill came to run the electricity tube. (We still cherish a wee bit of hope that one day we will have electricity.)

rebar

Rebar lain over the wood framing reading for the cement.

Sunday morning came and there were still some sections of wood to be put up. My son and father-in-law went up to the roof while my husband and I made a 5 am trip to Ojo de Agua en Media to fill 7 barricas (barrels) with water for the cement mix. At around 7 am, the workers began arriving on foot or by bike, quite a motley crew, ranging in age from early 20s to early 70s. They set to work making a wooden walkway from the street to the roof but ran out of nails. My husband sent me to town to the ferreteria (hardware store) to get a kilo of long nails. It being Sunday, the place that we normally go was closed. I asked the muchacha in the store across the street if she thought it would open. She said most likely since it was opened last Sunday. Since we needed the nails, I opted to stay in town in the hopes that it would open at 9. I went to the store and picked up some coke (requested by the workers), 5 kilos of tortillas, and chicarones (fried pig skin). The carniceria hadn’t received its delivery of carnitas yet, so I’d have to come back. As the ferreteria (hardware store) hadn’t opened yet, I started circling Moroleon in search of another place to buy nails. NOTHING was open! I drove around nearly 40 minutes, doing a complete circuit. On the way back to the first ferreteria (hardware store), I heard someone call my name. It was el plomero with his wife. In desperation, I blurted out the problem and asked if he had any nails at his house. He said he did and that I should follow them. I followed them to the carniceria (butcher) and the fruteria (fruit and vegetable store) and then to the place they rented a few months ago when it just became too much for them to live in La Yacata without electricity. He gave me a half-bucket of rusty nails that seemed to be the right size and I gave him 20 pesos and zoomed off.

walkway

Ramp to the roof.

My husband lunged for the bucket when I arrived and thought it would probably be enough. The workers set back to work on their walkway. In short order, it was finished and they were ready to rev up the cement mixer. It started but would shut off after a minute or two. The men ripped off the motor casing to have a look. The head guy asked for a spark plug–which we did have just lying around. He did some monkeying around and tried again. NOPE! More fiddling, and a nope! By this time is was nearly 10 am and we haven’t even started. Everyone crossed themselves for another try and…..finally it started. Then stopped after 2 minutes. This time, the gas valve wasn’t opened, which was a quick fix. Voila! The mixer started turning.

on the roof

My husband sent me to town for a garafon (container) of gas for the mixer and more trips for water. I picked up the carnitas too. When I got back, there seemed to be decidedly less gente (people) than when I left. Three guys were up on the roof with my father-in-law and husband. The boss guy had gone to town to see about getting more men, as had 4 other guys–or so they said. One of the missing did meander back with a bottle of tequila and then we realized what the problem was. We hadn’t provided alcohol for the men! DUH! Here I was thinking that the booze was for after the job was finished. Silly me. So my husband hunted up his brother B and asked him to pick up a case of beer for the guys. When the beer arrived, so did more men. Now we were rolling! After the food was eaten, I made myself scarce so that the guys could enjoy their beer, call each other guey and insult each other’s mothers while they worked.

workers

Mixing guys

It took all day but the men were happy to continue as long as the alcohol held out. When they finished, the head boss guy received the $3000 pesos agreed upon and he doled it out to the workers as he saw fit. Most of the guys really only worked for lunch, a few beers and some change. After they left, the work still wasn’t finished. My husband, son, and father-in-law filled in any cracks, tamped down the roof and swept the new cement with a broom. They finally finished just as it got dark. For the next 22 days, the wood framework stayed in place and the roof was doused twice daily with water to reduce cracking. My husband also put a row of bricks around the edge, perhaps later to develop into a half-wall. We spent close to $25,000 pesos even with the free wood rent but it really is the last major expense on our house. Everything else can be done in bits and pieces as we have the money. Whew!

finishing up

Finishing up!

********************************

disclosure

19 Comments

Filed under Construction

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.

**********************

disclosure

16 Comments

Filed under La Yacata Revolution

Getting Legal–Trip 2

SEGOB the immigration office in San Miguel de Allende

SEGOB the immigration office in San Miguel de Allende

Having been told by the powers that be on my first trip (See Getting Legal–Trip 1) to San Miguel de Allende that I could not turn in my paperwork until the 2nd of the following month, the day that my Mexican identification expired, I had to make a second trip, a mere 7 days later. We filled up the tank and checked the truck for problems that might cause delays. Our battery in the truck was causing us some worry. There were times when it would start just fine and other times when we would have to give the truck a good push down a hill to get it going. Well, there wasn’t enough money in the budget for a new battery this trip, so it would have to behave or else.

We also bought the inspection sticker whose lack thereof was the reason we were stopped twice by transitos (traffic police) in Celaya on the previous trip. We didn’t get the truck inspected–no one does. We just paid the inspection center mechanic and he gave us the sticker and we put it on the truck window. It cost $250 pesos and has to be replaced in August, but it would do for this trip.

So we started out not quite as early in the morning since we would need to stop at the bank before we went to the immigration office. We were not stopped in Celaya either coming or going although we saw the same transitos that stopped us for the mordida the week before. I wanted to wave and blow kisses, but then we might have been stopped on some other pretext and we were really short of cash. So I restrained myself.

We stopped at Banamex and I jumped out, leaving the truck running in case the truck battery decided to go on strike. I went in with the paper I had been given by the office next to immigration and paid my $1000 pesos and got a receipt. Then we headed to immigration. We parked on the small incline near the office and hoped that no one would park in front of us, just in case we needed a running start.

I was number 8, so I was pretty sure we’d be out of there by 12:00, but you never can tell. While waiting, we watched the parade of men in the holding room being given their bathroom breaks. There were about 8 of them. My husband determined on the basis of their dark coloring and short statue that they were probably from Guatemala and had been picked up trying to cross México for the U.S. The immigration officer carried no weapons but a billy club and there seemed little risk of the detainees making a break for it.

While we waited, one elderly British lady marched up to the desk and even though the clerk told her she had to take a number, went ahead with her problem anyway. I suppose he figured it would take less time to answer her question than to try to get her to take a number, so he told her that since she had lost her CURP (an identification number given to residents and citizens of México) she could go to the web site and print a new one herself. She was content with that answer and breezed out.

Then it was my turn. I had neglected to make a copy of my receipt from the bank, but the clerk was feeling agreeable that morning and made a copy for me in the office. That was nice of her. Then I had to wait a bit because she didn’t know the password to the computer, but it wasn’t long. I was given a sheet that registered that I had a tramite (open case file) and could check via internet en 8 días (a week) to see if it had returned from D.F. (México City) with approval or not. If my application was missing some sort of documentation, I would have to return to SMA to present the missing documentation. If everything was hunky dory, then I would have to return to SMA to put my fingerprints on the application form.

Much to our relief, the truck started right up. We headed towards home with the hope that we would have enough cash left to eat in San Pedro, a small town with numerous buffet options, even a Chinese restaurant. We had just enough for some yummy beans, cactus, rice and taquitos and two bottles of water. We drank one and saved the second for after the grass cutting–it’s thirsty work that!

Disaster free, we arrived home just in time for my son to get changed and head to school for the afternoon. Qué alivio!

*********************

disclosure

2 Comments

Filed under Getting Legal