UkuAdventures in Mexico: Trouble at the Oxxo!

PHOTOS: SuaviCreams! Giant Durian, Sad Jesus, Marshmallow Cannibals!




Dear Blob,
Good Customer Service speaks neither English or Spanish, but the universal language of politeness. Jessaly's days at the Oxxo, our mini-mart of choice, may be numbered. The Sullen, Overly-Made-Up Mini-Mart Clerk is also universal. Today's clerk, in her Daisy Duke shorts, barely peeping out from under her regulation Oxxo smock, got on her cell phone, as we approached her domain. Whore-Clerkette proceeded to chat on her cell as Jessica asked, in fairly passable Espanol, for cigarettes; it took literally several minutes of calling,"Dunhill Negro, Por Favor!" for Whore-Clerkette to saunter from the white packages on one side of the shelf to the other, as she dialed numbers on her phone and texted.

Then Jessica broke the handle of the Frosty Frappaccino machine. It's ridiculous that the word Frappaccino has crossed international borders.

We are on the fence whether we should return to the Oxxo. Jessica is too embarrassed to cross the threshold; I think they make shoddy Frappuccino handles. We are boycotting Kiosko due to their assumption we don't know how to count. That must be what clerks think when they attempt to shortchange customers; Ahh, here comes a gringo who is also a woman! She must not know how to count! Little do they know, Thessica is an overly-educated freelancer, notorious for watching her pennies, as every freelance-penny counts!

In other news, Conchita seems to love me now that Baby OC is gone; there are 2 black iguanas living on the backyard wall & we've begun our Farmacia exploration. It brings the constant animosity I feel towards the American healthcare system brightly into focus.

Love The Ukulady

ps: I cooked some green peppers tonight, which were surprisingly spicy and hours after cutting them, left my hands feeling spicy-tingley, the same way my lips felt after eating them. It's tricky to figure out which produce signs go to which vegetable at the Mercado. There are several onion and pepper varieties and clearly, I purchased the non-mild.
pps: Avocados are expensive here! Same price as in the states.
ppps: When I return to LA, our avocado tree will be in full bloom; I intend to sell the avocados on Venice Boulevard at Beethoven; swing on by, LA Readers!

UkuAdventures in Mexico: Snakes 'n' Handmade Snacks!

Dear Blob,
Like Charles, Mexico is in Charge. I made the mistake of jogging again yesterday; only a 30 minute jog, down from my LA hour, but unfortunately, Jogging in Mexico destroys the rest of my day, transforming me into The Withered Sausage. The Sausage is not visually withered, in fact, more swollen and bursting from it's sheath than ever, but withered physiologically. I call it The Burning Man Feeling.

This state begged for a movie night and I watched Y Tu Mama Tambien, one of the only Mexican films to be nominated for an Oscar. It was amazing and everyone should see it. I just finished a book on Mexican sociology, classism & culture, which made the film even better and more interesting.

Exciting News: Jessica bought a bike! Now we have 2! We will sell the bike at the end of our stay, so if any Readers need a bike, meep us up.

We've discovered the handmade, superfresh Churro stand in our Barrio! I've never tasted a more delicious churro. Outrageously crispy, hot, sweet and delicious. The Supermodel of Desserts! The Mother Theresa of Snacks! We hope to show restraint.

Our Barrio is famed for Taqueria Ramos, which makes handmade tortillas with every order. They are so meeping delicious, tender flaps of moistly-thick corny or flour-goodness! Packaged tortillas are like the bastard-redneck stepchild of the Handmade Tortilla. We are totally dating. I haven't eaten a leafy green vegetable since I've been here. I would like to, but I'm not sure it's a possibility.

The evening ended last night with Snake-on-a-Bike! Unlike Snakes on a Plane, there was only 1 and havoc did not ensue, but every time I hear a Jessica squeal, I'm going to know it's a wildlife situation, from now on.

Conchita was seemingly trying to get on the bike; a sucker for cute animals & Animals-Doing-Cute-Things, Jessica went outside to photograph Conchita, when her coo turned into a squeal of alarm. Conchita was not getting on the bike, but batting a long-ass snake, which stretched from a nearby plant onto the bike.

Mexico is in Charge.

Love The Ukulady
ps: We found Crabby hiding in a nooklet and captured him using garden-gloves. After spending the afternoon in a bucket, where he was not the least bit appreciative of our heroic-crab-saving efforts, Jessica returned him the Sea. He's the Luckiest Crab in Mexico!
pps: Crabby is a master tap-dancer, not ballerina. He is totally advanced at the grapevine!

UkuAdventures in Mexico: Churros!

UkuAdventures in Mexico: Crabs 'n' Machetes!

Dear Blob,
The Nature in Mexico is Off The Hook, as the teens would have said a couple years ago. Last night I awoke to Jessica's squeaks of quivery surprise, upon discovering a large crab in the house. Casa Azul is pretty far away from the the beach. The only way it could have gotten inside is by hitching a ride with us. I can't figure out how that happened, as Mr. Crab is not small! He's about as big as my 2 hands put together and we would have noticed a large crab in our small beach bag; the same bag narrowly-missed being peed on by the basset hound. Mr. Crab was not interested in being saved, grapevining, ballerina-like, quickly under a bed. He's still there, as far as we know.

Do boys in Mexico receive machetes the way boys in the US get pocket-knives? The hombres here wield machete's to cut coconuts in the their bare hands. No cutting board; just the coconut, held aloft like a crystal ball, and then the machete thwacked upon it. I can't believe no blood was shed, leading me to believe this is a 10,000 hours practice Malcolm Gladwell writes about in Outliers. The Mexicans are incredible at hacking coconuts open with machetes. They also carve a majestic mango.

How old are babies before they are fed salsa and onions around here?

The Paper 'n' Ribbonery store sells notebooks featuring animals with monocles.

Love The Ukulady
ps: That makes a Frog, Cucaracha (not exotic or unusual), Cicada & Crab in the house. Hopefully Mr. Scorpion will not join his Nature Friendsies
pps: Reader, The Ukulady is raising Funds for her New Album! We have 7 Days left of the campaign! Contribute to the Downfall of Evil and Get The New Album!

UkuAdventures in Mexico: Crocodiles, Butterflies & Paddle-Beak Birds!

Dear Blob,
1. Every outing in Mexico is an unexpected adventure, from crocodile-watching to getting my bag peed on by an Mexican basset hound, to stumbling upon a carnival.

2. The 1980's arcade games, once a usual item in the US, are not in private mansions, like in the Silver Spoons mansion, but they're all in Mexico enjoying a second life.

3. Cornrows on any and all non-black people are the International symbol of Vacation.

4. Mexicans seem to be the ultimate Salespeople/Entrepreneurs. Everyone has something to sell, from tacos to sponges to coconut balls.

Yesterday, leaving Jessica home sick, I visited La Manzanilla, the ultimate stereotype of a Sleepy Mexico Fishing'n'Vacation town. La Manzanilla is not Manzanillo and features a crocodile preserve, which riveted me for almost 2 hours. Crocodiles are the perfect example of Darwinism, crawling out of the water on their stubby webbed-feet-legs; almost land mammals, but reptileish water creatures. Their hefty-thick torsos are fascinatingly leathery and they would totally win at Statues. I also saw a pink paddle-beaked bird, butterflies and schmoozed with Pedro, the fish-taco-truck guy, who used to live in San Diego.

The La Manzanillo beach is almost perfect, except for the distressing piles of garbage everywhere. It was difficult to find a garbage-free place to sit. Apparently, the restauranteurs only clean the beach during the high season. Regardless, it was deeply pleasant, lolling in the water, people-watching wealthy Mexican families and nibbling a honey-drenched coconut ball, purchased from a Beach Vendor.

I felt smugly self-reliant, pampering myself with a Fresa popsicle until my quiet moment was interrupted by a chatty & probably-pervy gringo who asked if I wanted to "Take a Ride."

In other news, there is a tiny carnival in our barrio, Buster is a musical genius, amongst his genius-titles, and we enjoyed straws coated in tamarind and sugar from the grandmotherly Candy Stand lady - super tangy!

Love The Ukulady
ps: Mexico's dichotomies are Much More ShinyBrightBold, as is everything here, than in the US. We have shantytowns and shacks made of garbage, but it's all clustered together; if you avoid LA skid row, seeing shacks of garbage is rare. Here you come upon a poverty-shack right next to a middle-classish home, which is surprising.

pps: The Carpet has moved back inside!

ppps: We mistook a lizard-chameleon creature for a butterfly! Stick-colored, it blends in until it swells it's neck into an exotic, orange fan, which looks like a butterfly wing! Total show-off!

UkuAdventures in Mexico: My Sexy Suitor is Not For Sissies!

Dear Blob,
1. Mexico is not for Sissies
2. Like a Disney Princess, Mexico is ridiculously Charming and Magical.

(2) Yesterday Jessaly discovered the Scenic route to town. We wandered the cobblestone streets of the Wealthy neighborhood, a mix of garish & tasteful villas, which meanders along canals, leading into a CharmFever townspeople-neighborhood next to downtown Barra De Navidad; I will call it Townie Town.

Big News: In Townie Town we found Plastic Recycling!

The lack of recycling in Mexico has been stressing me out. Mexicans are enthusiastic aluminum-can recyclers, but everything else is thrown away, either in the basura (garbage!) or a vacant lot. I've been hoarding plastic bottles for no reason other than I'm emotionally unable to throw them away.

The Plastic Recycling is located across from fabulous topiaries, spelling out HOTEL. As Thessica cooed, photographing HOTEL, a plastic-recycling Townie amusingly pointed out a Fabulous Chicken topiary. A Chicken Plant, similar to Chicken Pants!

Townie Town's cobblestones wind around and down, connecting with the Lagoon-side of downtown, which is lined with Robinson Carusoe-like tree-housey buildings with palapa roofs and tropical hotels. Barra De Navidad has all the ruffle-fixin's leftover from Colonialism, like lacy streetlamps and slim, windey cobblestone alleys. I just realized Wind and Wind are spelled the same!

We concluded our walk in true vacation-style, lounging at a beachside snackery, our feet in the sand, cervezas & chips in hand, ocean view charmtastically grand!

Mexico is like a sexy suitor, courting me and winning! I even met Mexico on the internet! I know the suitor is flawed, as everything is, but Meep! She is Charming!

(1) I'm beginning to physically feel like myself. My first week, I was like a puffy, woozy sausage, constantly feeling vaguely withered, dehydrated, swollen. I finally feel normalish! Acclimated! It may be due to the 10 degree weather drop, as it's still raining (the flooded carpet is still damp & the towels on the clothesline are pretty-much made of water). I'm sure that once the rain subsides and the temperature rises, the Woozy Sausage will return, but ever an optimist, perhaps this acclimation is permanent!

I went jogging this morning during a break in the rain, jog-nerd thrilled by the temperature-drop. Of course I was caught in an extreme downpour, far far away, out on the Mexican highway, I joyfully jogged alongside the jungle, thinking of marathon runners & the Biggest Loser TV show. The rain was extreme; if it was in LA, it would be Front Page Headlines. I wished for eyeball windshield-wipers and jogged joyfully, triumphantly, reminiscent of Shawshenk Redemption, minus the sewage.

Jogging in Tropical Rains is not an activity for Sissies. My sexy suitor, Mexico is a Curve Ball Enthusiast.

Love The Ukulady

ps: I'm reading Mexico books and gaining understanding of the culture; most Mexicans are mixed blood and the Aztec civilization was all about the social hierarchy. Most Mexicans have 3000 years of the Aztec class system embedded in their psyche. Racism runs deep and silent here, but unlike the US, the darkest people have been on the bottom for 3000 years. The Aztec warriors were probably all killed in conquistador-battles, leaving the lower class Aztecs, used to being marginalized, left to continue being the lowest class in Mexico.

Locked Out in Mexico!

Dear Blob!
I am a resourceful Pioneer-Handylady! The exclamation points are extensions of the adrenalin coursing through my Meep! I just locked myself out of Casa Azul and managed to get back in!

Here's the hot scoop: Casa Azul comes with Conchita, a cat, of whom I am allergic. Conchita is deserate to get into the house, has magic-cat powers and can open doors. So I'd taken to using the automatic safety lock, which comes with the front door. It can be abled and disabled.

After a morning coffee with Larry, the expat from Burbank, who has the extra set of keys and ironically, told me a story yesterday of House Owners, Sally & Carmen, locking themselves out, I bid him farewell, as he went to work at the bookswapstore, in another town. Be-pajamaed, I took a soggy dishtowel outside to dry; as soon as I exited the iron front door, it swung closed and locked. Every door and window in the house has iron gates and screen windows. Only a baby could get through the iron gates.

Somewhat shocked, but oddly calm, I considered my options, as I Walked-It-Out in the magical garden surrounding the house. I could hang out in my pajamas until Larry returned from work, all day, moneyless, bra-less, waterless, reading-material-less or I could retrieve my keys, which were within eyeball distance, on the table next to the door, inside.

Luckily, HouseOwner Carmen, has a ton of tools! I found the tool box and a Phillips screwdriver! I removed the screen from the front door! I then found an extra-long pruning tool, which enabled my T-Rex arms, as the Uklulad calls them, to extend! The moment of suspense... I knew if I dropped the keys from the pruners, I would be on the patio all day, like a prisoner in a really gorgeous jail. Cooly, channeling my yoga-powers, I gripped the keys in the pruner's meep and transferred them to my human-hands! I saved myself!

Lesson after lesson, here in Mexico. Last night I discovered the green salsa from the Tamale Trolley is not to be consumed.

Love The Ukulady

ps: Good news is the house is ridiculously secure and no one can enter when it's locked!
pps: The auto-lock is now disabled.

Ukulady in Mexico: Lego Airport, Dehydration & Mangos!

Dear Blob -
Greetings from Super-South of the US Border, Barra De Navidad, Mexico! After navigating the clustermeep of LAX by masquerading as a Mazatlan-bound family's babysitter, I and my new pretend-family bypassed the outrageously-long outside-the-airport-line, checked in and I found myself seated in first-class on a plane bound to Manzanillo, Mexico! I had forgotten that my airmiles booked me into the elite cabin, complete with real-glass-glasses, free tomato bisque soup and artisan chocolates.

First Class was serviced by a fab gay man with a mini-mohawk, and as NY had just legalized gay marriage, I kept wanting to shout, "High Five! NY!", to him, but I restrained myself, respecting his work-environment.

Blob, it is a mere 3 hours to the heart of Mexico! As long as it takes to fly to Austin, TX, you can land in the 1970's Lego airport of Manzanillo, where, I was startled to find myself. I knew for months I would be traveling to Mexico, but nothing is like the surprise of actually finding one's self the Minority Gringo-ette, surrounded by banana groves, Mexican roosters & mango trees; the aroma of ripe fruit and grilled chicken mixed with burning plastic; hyper-awareness of scorpions, geckos & crocodiles. It is just like Southeast Asia, but with tacos instead of noodles.

What is The Ukulady doing 4 hours south of Puerta Vallarta? Housesitting for the expat-hippes of Casa Azul, a pleasant haven in a non-gringo neighborhood, full of scrawny Mexican dogs, kids playing in rock piles & TV-ready-Old Mexican ladies gossiping in front of their shack-like home/eateries. There are as many Taco-Vendors in Mexico as Actors in LA. It's refreshing to mingle amongst competitive taco-makers, rather than narcissistic actors.

I forgot that Mexico is the tropical 3rd world. This means you can purchase a frosty beverage in a plastic sack with a straw, no papier-de-toilette down the pipes, Extreme-Vigilance about water: drinking enough and purified only. But there are gray areas; like the Thrifty ice-cream teen-clerk, who dips the conical Thrifty scooper into water between servings. Is it safe? What about mini-drips from the shower? No lettuce, avoid salsa fresca & restaurant ice.

Mexico is full of idiosyncrasies to master, for not only am I in a 3rd world foreign country, but I am a Responsible Housesitter, which includes details like paying the electric bill at the Mini-Mart, hiding aluminum cans under the garbage-can-top for the garbage-men so they continue to love us; keeping my eye out for Kids Driving Cars!

Day 1 was a Town-Tour, Beachside dining with my hosts & schmoozing with an expat barkeep about Ukulady shows.

Day 2 was spent totally dehydrated, something I haven't felt since Burning Man and I was reminded why I do not attend Burning Man anymore. I recovered with 15 glasses of water, 1 bottle of Gatorade and 6 hours Suffer-Reclining in the humid, steamy afternoon.

I am the Worst Rester; withered, angry and dishearteningly-sick, I visualized orange and blue healing colors and chanted "Rest 'n' Heal", while simultaneously deciding that I am not brave enough to travel to India by myself and what was I thinking summering in "devilishly hot", as the guide books call it, Barra De Navidad.

There have been several Arrested Development-the-TV-show references here; the Barkeep is named Buster, the cleaning lady is Lupe and all the wealthy Mexicans, it seems, vacation in Orange County.

Stay tuned for the Continuing Adventures of The Ukulady in Mexico!
Love The Ukulady

ps: This is not resort-Mexico. This is real-people Mexico.
pps: Garbage men come everyday, you are supposed to make left turns from the right lane, the wealthy Mexicans vacation here and apparently are racist/facists, considering darker-skinned people, lesser. I've stepped back in time.

Lateen Wolf!