Mexican Reality Check
Welcome kind reader. At this point in the story, in the spring of 2008, Bruce and Mary are contemplating their next move toward the goal of owning the Ramblin Rose B&B, on the Mexican Gulf Coast, just outside the little fishing village of Chuburna.
View of the Gulf Coast from the Ramblin Rose Deck
We are settled into our comfy one bedroom apartment in downtown Mérida and having cocktails on our tiny patio fronting busy Calle 59. With our transition to Mérida complete I turn my attention to the Ramblin Rose. I ask Mary, “Well what do you think?” Mary surprises me by saying, “I really want that B&B.” We’d been so busy with our move into the city and getting an orientation to our city lives that this is really the first chance we’ve had to talk about possibly pursuing the purchase of the Ramblin Rose B&B.
“Really?” I respond. “Yes, it would be so cool to have the kids down, and Neil and Kevin and Rosie and it’s small enough that we wouldn’t be in over our heads.”
I certainly agree, this whole idea of owning a small hotel or B&B in México has been my baby from the start and I was glad to hear that Mary, although always supportive of this idea, was now so enthusiastic. We start putting pen to paper and we come up with an offer that we feel we can afford. Dan, the Ramblin Rose owner, had made it clear on our last visit that he would entertain offers involving owner financing.
I quickly call Dan and he is glad to hear from us. He says it would be great to have us over to talk details, tomorrow morning.
We are up early the next day to hoof it over to the Progreso bus terminal where we hop the 8:30am Chuburna bus. Just outside Mérida we leave the super highway to meander through seemingly a hundred tiny pueblos on our way to the Ramblin Rose. At one point we find ourselves playing chicken with a car coming right at us on this 1 ½ lane tarred road with no shoulder. I figure it must be some stupid gringo or Canuck but I see just as our bus veers at the last second, that it is a local, looking right at us. I get slapped by some low jungle brush through the open window and spend the next several minutes picking twigs out of my tank top. Thankfully the rest of our 90 minute, 35 kilometer journey is uneventful.
We are greeted at the inn by a cheerful Dan and we re-familiarize ourselves with the place. It is just as we remember it. We quiz Dan again on the book of business. He explains again, that it is hard to say, he hasn’t yet completed a full year, but he assures us that he was quite busy with local clients last summer. With his new website in place, he tells us that the winter business is growing as well. We rehash the cost of utilities and other overhead and then Harriet, Dan’s wife, joins us for a tour of the area in Dan’s extended cab Chevy pickup.
We cruise down Chuburna’s main street to the far side of town and then onto a dirt road to a secluded beach area where Dan has heard rumors that a major hotel chain is building a beach resort. Then Dan takes us to a ria inlet that is great for fishing, right off the ruined bridge abutments. I get a little turned around but then I get my bearings as we come back into town by the baseball field. I am surprised to hear that town team baseball is big here.
We’re bouncing along the beach road towards the B&B again as Dan points out two colorful, renovated houses on the beach that belong to a couple of Canadians who enjoy some very positive cash flow renting them out as vacation properties. I ask if his experience is similar to ours, that Canadians want to talk about sex all the time. He says these two Canucks happen to be gay but yes, he was just at a party where the Canadian hostess could talk of nothing else, in between beers. Crazy Canadians.
I see the time is approaching 1:00 when our bus to Mérida is due at the bus stop in town. Dan is happy to whisk us there and while we wait in his air conditioned cab for the bus, I make our proposal. Dan and Harriet listen intently as I explain our offer. The offer is full price for the Ramblin Rose, in exchange for only 25% down and owner financing with monthly interest-only payments and a five year balloon. I hold my breath to see if he’ll dismiss it out of hand but instead he simply nods his head and says, “I’ll get back to you tomorrow, but if we do this deal I want to close by June 1st.” As it is April 1st today, I don’t see any difficulty and I’m pretty excited by his response, “Sure, no problema!” I blurt out.
Right then the bus rounds the corner and pulls over. We say our farewells and exit the truck for the bus.
The bus ride back to Mérida takes no time at all as Mary and I are giddy with the idea of actually owning a B&B in México. We both agree that it is plain that Dan will accept our offer.
The sun is setting as we are enjoying cervezas on our little patio fronting Calle 59. We are having fun with the idea of running the Ramblin Rose but then I start having buyer’s remorse even though we haven’t actually bought the place, yet. We start doing the mental calculations for the expense involved in furnishing the Spartan-like units, installing TVs, DVD players, and mini-fridges for each room, and the cost of converting the room off the kitchen into a fourth unit. And I realize that I have not, until now, even considered the closing costs. We do the rough math and it seems that we will be dangerously close to the absolute minimum bank balance comfort zone that we had established for ourselves before we set forth on our escape to México.
But then we have a couple more beers and talk excitedly of how near we are to our dream of serving cocktails with little umbrellas to our guests, relatives, and friends, on the deck of our own Mexican B&B while watching the sun set into the Gulf of México. On this pleasant picture we hit the hay.
It’s 3am and I am having the first panic attack of my life. I wake Mary up and I let it all hang out. This is a pipe dream, we don’t have enough money and we’ve made this mistake before. I remind Mary of the joke the banker told us shortly before he shuttered our Minnesota restaurant, years ago, “Know how to make a little money in the hospitality business?” “Start with a lot!” he finished. We both realize with crystal clarity that we have been drunk with the romantic idea of running a B&B catering to our kids and friends, grinning slyly as our whole network cheered us on with a few friends actually becoming a little jealous of us. We suddenly realize, now, that we came down here to escape, not to have another heart attack trying to crack a nut relying upon people walking through the door of our highly leveraged business.
I wait until the decent hour of nine before calling Dan. Naturally before I can say anything he gushes that he accepts our offer and already has his English speaking attorney working on the paper work. Dan, to his credit shows great restraint in refraining from the use of any four letter words when I renege on our offer.
As I hang up our $10 Mexican cell phone I say to Mary, “I feel like we just dodged a bullet.” But it does take us months to finally cure ourselves of this most addictive dream: owning a Mexican B&B.
Thanks for visiting, gentle reader. What’s with these two, anyhow? They have the lucky chance, with their meager resources, to own their own B&B and now they just walk away. Well, as you may have already guessed, the title to the next post is, “Now What?” Bruce appreciates all comments and will respond in “real time”.
Posted by: BruceKelley on 2/05/2010 at 9:55 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Tags: chuburna, gulf of mexico
The Merida Transition
On this spring day in 2008 Bruce and Mary have put their big plans of buying a B&B on hold for a bit to get down to the business of making their move into Mérida, where the cost of living is much less. Their month of decompression on the beach has come to an end.
Mary and Fernando in Our Calle 59 Flat
It is time to get down to the nitty gritty of getting an apartment lined up in Mérida as our month at the beachside condo is coming to a close. We had called Fernando, the Mérida landlord and abogado, lawyer, we had met through our crazy Canadian friends, John and Amber, and made an appointment to view an apartment on Calle 59. This is in a great location, right in the middle of gringo gulch and close to La Plaza Grande, the heart of downtown. This was the apartment that John and Amber had stayed in while waiting for their house to close.
We take the Progreso bus into town and leg it to the apartment where we have scheduled an 11:30am meeting with Fernando. We’re a little early so we check out the grand French hotel, La Residencial across the street. We’re a little bummed that we can’t afford more than a one bedroom flat, so we want to check out nearby hotels for rates for visiting friends and relatives. The lobby is quite impressive in a French colonial way and we see that the rates are 872P per night, about $85US at present exchanges. This is a little pricey for our needs. We cross the street back to the apartment and presently Fernando arrives, at 12:10, precisely on time, Mexican time, that is.
While Fernando gives Mary a detailed tour of the place I fire up my laptop to see if there might be some stray wifi signals that I would be able to tap into and I am pleased to see signals from La Residencial hotel we’d just visited. Hmm, this might solve the internet question quite nicely for us.
I join Mary and Fernando on the tour. The telephone is 180P per month, the electricity will run about 200-300P every two months and garbage collection is free. Fernando then shows us the back garage area which houses our common washer and dryer and storage area. It even has separate outlets for the washer so the juice gets charged to us or our new neighbor Violet, another crazy Canadian.
Everything was as we remembered from our visit with John and Amber when they lived here and we liked it then so we want to seal the deal. Fernando has already told us that he doesn’t care if we pay 3000P or $300US for the rent or deposit so I take advantage of the exchange and pay him 3000P to secure the flat, saving about $12 on this day’s exchange rate. In retrospect, Fernando, whom we will come to know as possibly the nicest man on earth, would have put our name on the apartment on a handshake. But given the cash, Fernando counts it out carefully, shakes our hands and when I don’t get a receipt, I ask for one. What little English Fernando knows quickly goes away. I have Mary try to ask in Espanol, a couple times. It becomes clear that a receipt will not be forthcoming, but none the less I keep bugging Mary about it. Finally she hisses at me, “Give it up for Chrissakes, he’s a lawyer!” I desist, I guess a handshake will do for a receipt.
Done with business, Fernando takes us on a tour of that part of town and then drops us off at La Flor de Santiago restaurant, which he recommends as nice but not pricy. We have a bite and then we catch the Progreso bus home, happy to have lined up our new home in la corazon de Mérida, the heart of Mérida.
The last couple of days at the beach we stroll the shoreline, have Tom and Pam from Spokane over for dinner, complain with Justo about inconsistent Mexican prices and generally flat-line our blood pressure readings.
Get away day dawns bright but I’m feeling a little sluggish; I taught Tom how to sip, not shoot, tequila last night. We have a quick breakfast and start packing our meager belongings. Jaromey is due at 10:30 for exit inspection and having business in the city she has volunteered to haul us and our stuff to our new apartment. We’re done a little early and with our gear we are sitting in the shade, it’s going to be a hot one today. There’s only a couple cars in the parking lot, just a handful of the 20 some condos are occupied but we hear from Tom and Pam, later, that by this evening the parking lot will be full and the party will go all night. We did not realize that this Friday is the start of Semana Santa, Easter, when Mexicans party their hearts out for two solid weeks. We will leave in the nick of time, considering we like to sleep for a least a portion of the night.
Jaromey arrives and the inspection goes off without a hitch. On the way we chat and it seems that Jaromey has a lot of properties she manages and Mary, jokingly, tells her to give her a call if she ever needs help. Little did we know then, how that would develop.
We arrive at our apartment and quickly haul our gear into our new home and invite Jaromey to lunch at La Residencial across the street. We are seated in the restaurant and the first thing I do is ask the server for the security key for the wifi. I fire up my laptop and I am online very quickly. I shut it down right away, very happy to be in possession of the code. We have a light lunch and we entertain each other with tales from back home. Jaromey tells us that she is trying to talk her 19 year old into joining the Canadian Navy. When I ask why she would want her son to be in the service she says, “Well it isn’t all that risky, we only have three ships!”
After lunch we give her a short tour of our cozy little apartment and see her off. Then we call Fernando and he is right over to whisk us to his office to make this rental agreement official. He makes copies of our passports and visas, does a little bit of internal paperwork, and informs us that he would like 2 weeks notice whenever we would move and that is it. I don’t get a receipt for the cash payment and after looking at Mary, I don’t ask.
Fernando ferries us back to our new home and we see we have a voice message on our $10 Mexican cell we had left behind. It is Amber, asking us to happy hour at their place. We like the sound of this, it’s like our lives will be getting some rhythm back with regular Friday night happy hours. I remember where they live, a few blocks away, from Fernando pointing out their casa on our mini-tour, so we waltz on over, picking up a couple six packs of Tecate at a San Francisco chain grocery store along the way. We are met at the door by a shirtless John and ushered back to the pool where we find Amber, looking as good as a 59 year old possibly can, in a skimpy bikini. She sees where my eyes track and she volunteers, “No, they’re not real, honey.” We relax at pool’s edge with beers in hand and start exchanging stories. We are officially settled into Mérida.
Thanks for visiting, gentle reader. Please tune in soon as the Ramblin Rose B&B adventure continues. And Bruce would love any feedback from readers. Hasta Luego!
Posted by: BruceKelley on 1/15/2010 at 7:59 AM | Comments (5) | Permalink
Careful, You Just Might Get What You Want
The day of reckoning has arrived for Bruce and Mary in their quest of escaping to México. They have “decompressed” for a month on the beach and now they have to get after things if they are going to stick down here and what better way to do that than by owning/operating a B&B? Join them on this day in April 2008.
The Ramblin Rose B&B
Today is the big day; we are traveling by combi (12 passenger van) to check out the Ramblin' Rose B&B which is just outside Chuburna Puerto a few miles west of our condo on the Gulf Coast. We enjoy a big breakfast; we will want to have plenty of energy for this venture.
We only wait a few minutes to flag a combi for the first leg of our journey and we chat with some friendly Canadians, who are the majority here on the coast. We talk beer, which is the common denominator to most Canadian conversations, which suits me fine.
At the transfer in Chicxulub there are plenty of Progreso combis waiting for business. In just a few minutes we’re at the Progreso combi terminal and trying to figure out the last leg to Chuburna. Once again we run into this quintessential Mexican phenomenon: No local that we have ever met, does not know the location of the place you are looking for. By that I mean they will point you in a direction whether they have ever heard of the place or not. So once again we are ricocheting around town. Finally we stumble onto a combi and bus staging area that we had walked by many times on other trips into town. Upon inquiry we do find a combi that is about to hit the road to Chuburna.
On the way we travel through an expansive ria waterway system. The water is crystal clear and the panorama is quite beautiful. Passing through Chelem, bounded on three sides by ria and ocean, we find a colorful and dynamic fishing town, just the opposite of Telchac which was your typical sleepy fishing village. This place has a lot of fun looking joints that I’ll bet really come alive at night. And everywhere it is so clean!
The road angles west out of town and after about 5 or 6 kms, I see a sign that says “Choc Choi” with a picture of a fish on it. I thought Dan had mentioned something about Choc Choi so I ask the driver, “Ramblin' Rose?” “Si” he says and lets us out.
We walk the 250 meters on this dirt road to the ocean on a cloudless, perfect day and we recognize the Ramblin' Rose by the website pictures but we walk on by to the shore. The beach is very clean, not full of washed up seaweed and other flotsam and jetsam like the beach in front of our Chicxulub condo. Someone had explained that our beaches are a result of the extension to the Progreso pier, which at 6.5 kms, makes it the longest pier in the world. The extension was built solid to the ocean floor without provision for the ocean water to pass through, changing the currents and dirtying up the beaches to the east. We take in the view with water lapping our sandals, trying not to think too hard but letting our senses do the work for us. Later Dan tells us that there is a coral reef straight out about 100m but there is a gap in it that a small fishing boat can maneuver through. We take pix of the B&B from the ocean. There is one house between the inn and the shore, but we are standing in a public launch area and we know that all seashore up to high tide is public domain, so we are not concerned about it technically not being on the beach, when it is only a few steps away.
Rounding the corner of the place is a 40ish tall, thin man, sporting a closely cropped Van Dyke. He extends his hand saying, “Bruce?” “You must be Dan.” I respond. He’s a high energy sort, talking a mile a minute as he takes us to the patio fronting the living quarters where we meet Harriet, his wife. Harriet is a slender hippie chick in a long sun dress; her Florida drawl is quite evident. Mary remarks that Harriet is her mother’s name. “Yea, my dad wanted a boy: a Harry” she says. I feel compelled to top that, “My uncle Don named one of his many daughters Donette!” I win with that one.
We are shown the owners’ quarters first, and talk about a trip to the past; this is a true hippie pad complete with a sleeping loft that faces a huge, out of context, flat screen TV, which we are told does not stay, but the satellite system does.
As we tour, Dan explains what brought them here. He’d become intolerant of the escalating crime in the Jacksonville area and the increasing difficulties of running his landscaping business and, like us, he and Harriet just became fed up with the political climate fostered by the “current occupant”. So they up and sold everything; the business, home, and some real estate and bolted down here. They bought this place and then turned it into a B&B. But ultimately he wants to buy one of “those 500 hectare lots” near Mérida and “work the land”. I’m not sure what he means by working the land, but I say, “So this place is just a stepping stone?” “Exactly!” He enthusiastically responds.
We find ourselves in the kitchen which is quite modern with new appliances and on-demand hot water. Dan tells me that 4 of his neighbors quickly installed this same unit after Dan’s example. He says that there is no lack of technology down here, people just don’t use it.
Next door is a common room where we find Sam, their 15 year old daughter who is online doing her studies. Dan and Harriet later tell us that she will graduate at age 16 and has plainly made it known that when she hits 18 she is out of here. She gives us a sullen look when introduced. Dan tells us that the wall separating this room from the kitchen is the only wooden one in the place and you could knock it out and have a little restaurant, or keep it intact for another rental unit; it is stubbed for a bathroom.
We’re up to the deck now, which features a brand new whirlpool. At the corner of the deck is a walkway leading to two units fronting the ocean. A stairway up from the deck takes you to the palapa “penthouse”, which is quite spacious and very cozy. Mary and I are sneaking looks at each other and getting pretty excited, this place is way cool. The other rooms are sparsely furnished but clean and all the units have a/c. Dan is building a bar for the patio and I can just picture myself behind that bar serving cocktails to my patrons; old friends and family and new friends; all of us partying together, enjoying this awesome view of the gulf stretching on forever.
We retreat to the patio off the owner’s quarters once more and Harriet gets us all coffees and we chat. The conversation ranges from politics: They swear there was fraud in 2000, their Florida county went W, and they claim you couldn’t find a person in that entire county who voted for him. To fishing: His dad was a commercial fisherman and Dan’s goal, avid fisherman that he is, is to sell off his boat and convert a fishing trawler. To finally circling around to business: Dan kicks it off by explaining how property is purchased down here. It is not legal for extranjeros, foreigners, to own property within 50 kms of the ocean. The instrument that is used to convey all the privileges of ownership is called a fideicomiso which is a lease between the buyer and a bank. The bank actually buys the property, using your money and leases it back to you. Dan already has a fideicomiso in place and he is happy to tell me that this will save me several thousand dollars in closing costs. I already knew most of this from my research prior to our escape but I don’t mind the refresher.
Now it is time to get down to the nitty gritty. “Dan, will you consider financing?” I ask. He pauses, and then says, “I would, but I’d have to have at least 40 or $50, 000 down.” “Whoopee!!” I think. I hope I didn’t say it out loud, too. And it’s not that we have that kind of bread, but everything is negotiable and this is his opening position. Now, I’m thinking that I haven’t heard a word about the listing realtor. It was on the agent’s site that I found this place and I never got the realtor involved because I remembered what my crazy Canadian friend John told me. He said, “Screw the realtor, deal directly with the owner. You’ll get it for about half!” Well I don’t know about the half part, but with no commission paid, it’s got to help the cause. I had read somewhere that the real estate business down here is like the old Wild West. When it comes to listing agreements, agent certification, title searches; no laws apply and it’s a real shoot-em up business. Yippee-Ki-Yay!
We talk some more and then Harriet has to get about her chores and it is time for us to leave, as well. Dan gives us a lift into Chelem in his Chevy 2500 extended cab pickup. Sol, his long term renter from Cancun (Dan gets $500US per month and Sol actually helps out around the place) accompanies us. At the combi stand we part with pledges to continue our conversation.
As we negotiate our way back to the condo we’re in kind of a daze, this just seems too good to be true. Just when we thought that it may be impossible, within our means, to realize the dream of running a B&B in México, the Ramblin' Rose magically appears. It seems pretty darn karmic.
Thanks for visiting gentle reader. Wow, you have to be impressed with Bruce and Mary’s luck in stumbling across this opportunity. Any predictions on how this will pan out? Hmmm? Bruce appreciates any and all comments. Hasta pronto!
Posted by: BruceKelley on 1/09/2010 at 11:57 AM | Comments (0) | Permalink
The Ramblin Rose Beckons
Bruce and Mary need income if they want to make complete, their “escape to México”. At this point in their saga, in March 2008, they are scrambling to find an income property as the way of sticking down here. They have already been shut down on a small hotel in Telchac Puerto. Let’s see what other prospects beckon and oh, a hint on how they do, in real time: It is December of 2009, they are still down here.
The Palapa Penthouse of the Ramblin Rose B&B
The day dawns bright on this late March day on the Gulf of México. Our plans for the day are to get online at La Habana to see if there are more income properties that we can investigate, and also to check out a Pregreso gym we had heard about.
We have our usual colorful breakfast and walk the long walk to the highway in about 70 degrees, this el norte keeps faking us out and hanging in there. I’m glad to be wearing my Twins jersey over my tank top.
After about 20 minutes we hail a west bound combi (public transport, 12 passenger van) full of…Canadians. A comedian in the group hollers, “I guess you’ll have to ride on the roof!” and guffaws like some cartoon character. Mary finds herself squeezing in next to him and he’s an okay guy once Mary engages him in conversation. At the transfer in Chicxulub we find ourselves surrounded by Canadians again on the combi into Progreso. We witness an odd stereotype reversal: a mild mannered New Jerseyan, is getting run over by a sabe lo todo, know-it-all Canuck woman telling him how things are, here on the beach. I’m glad we finally see the gym and debark this Canadian combi from hell.
The Shangrila gym is your typical Mexican gym; mismatched plates lying all over the place, homemade resistance machines, and human powered treadmills alongside upright bikes with friction wheels. After a walk around, careful not to bang shins into the crowded equipment, we shell out the very reasonable drop-in fee of 25P, about two bucks each, and get to work
Mary and I wrap up our workouts, and we are sweating profusely, the day has heated up considerably and we feel pretty righteous in our soaked through workout togs. I love working out in the heat. I don’t understand those people who want air conditioning in their gym and don’t want to sweat. It doesn’t seem natural to do a sweat-free work-out.
We amble up to La Habana and settle in for an internet session and a midday meal. First Mary fires off emails to the kids. As she is doing so, we notice that Helen, our daughter has just signed on to Skype. We call her immediately and have fun getting caught up. I ask if Frisco, our old, senile cat is still on life support (countless visits to the vet). I am informed that Frisco is now her cat and she will expend whatever efforts and expense are necessary before that final trip to the vet. Mary says to me, referencing her diabetes, “I hope you won’t be sending me to the vet for that final visit any time soon!” Everyone is laughing except me. Our food comes, cutting short the women’s Bruce-as-target practice. That’s what happens when your kids grow up and join your wife in knowing how much hot air you are made of. Could be worse, of course, at least our three grown kids like me, I think.
Mary has her Christians and Moors; black beans and rice but this time it is topped with blackened slices of what looks like meat of some sort. Mary, with two of our kids being vegan, is a vegan wannabee. She still eats meat sometimes, but she feels guilty about it. She has me sample it and I am quite proud in actually being able to identify something that I am eating other than simply being able to tell you if I like it or not. It is very tasty fried plantain. Mary is relieved and I get about my chicken tamales which are very filling.
Back on the internet I do find three new possibilities: a restaurant in Mérida for 75G, a house with two rental units for 50G, and the most exciting prospect, a B&B called the Ramblin Rose on the coast outside Chuburna for 119G. We leave the realtors’ website and are rewarded by finding the Rambling Rose’s own site which is well done, complete with a reservations engine. It looks pretty cool. We see a Skype number and call. Dan, the owner answers and we have a very pleasant conversation. We arrange to visit the next day and I think Dan is as excited as we are. We have supplies to get so Mary and I delay our exact strategy for this look-see until tonight, for now it’s onward ho to the Bodega Aurerra, the Walmart owned big box grocery and all purpose store. It’s a 10 block hike to the Bodega and I do believe this el norte is finally over because it has to be in the 90’s.
The streets of Progreso are filled with tourists, a cruise ship has come to port. I detect southern accents from many of these pale faces and I come to find that is because most of these cruises originate out of Houston. Funny, I’d never thought of Houston in the same category as Miami or San Diego.
We’re in the store and as is always the case, what initially feels like over air conditioning feels just about perfect about the time you exit into the steamy heat. Mary shops blood glucose testing strips and they cost about 400P per 50. At today’s exchange that is about $35US. These strips used to be covered by our health insurance but we’re self insured now, that is, without. Mary bemoans her “habit” but I remind her that our insurance premiums alone, not to speak of co-pays, deductibles, etc., used to cost us well over what we spend, on our own, on medical expenses now. Her attitude improves considerably and she buys this necessity.
With our bags of groceries we are back out in the heat. We traverse the skinny sidewalks and negotiate the curbs with our heavy bags of groceries, not the lightest being two cases of beer making our way the 11 blocks to the combi stop. Finally we are back to the condo and I am soaked with sweat, again. I don my trunks and dive into the ocean which is absolutely tranquil on this gorgeous day. There are bigger waves on Lake LeHomme Dieu. As I cool off and relax in shoulder deep water I am treated to the site of three dolphins breeching about 100 meters off. We have had only a few dolphin sightings.
After an interesting and tasty meal of nopales, cactus and pasta, we retire to our deck to watch the setting sun and talk about the Ramblin Rose. We make a list, we love making lists, of the things to look for and the questions to ask, but mostly we daydream about how neat it would be to have our own B&B on the coast of the Gulf of México, catering to our kids and their near spouses and our network of friends. What could be cooler?
Thanks for visiting gentle reader. This Ramblin Rose prospect sounds almost too good to be true, don’t you think? Do you think it really is Bruce and Mary’s karma to own this cute B&B? Please stay tuned, as the next post will be coming soon. As usual, Bruce appreciates any and all comments and all will be acknowledged, in real time. Hasta pronto!
Posted by: BruceKelley on 12/07/2009 at 5:06 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Is Plan B to Be or Not
Bruce and Mary are still in their vacation condo, but the day of reckoning is quickly approaching, this month on the beach ends on March 15, 2008. No vacation can last forever and in order to make their escape to Mexico permanent, Bruce plans on getting after plan B. Plan A, the Libros y Suenos Hotel as a possible income property, did not pan out. Let’s see what, if anything, he accomplishes on this particular day in Paradise.
Mary Enjoying Breakfast on the Veranda our our Gulf Coast Condo
I am having this strange dream about me and boyhood chum Howie Solheim having bought a gym in Milaca, near Princeton, MN where we grew up. It only cost 25K but we find that none of the equipment works. I am in the process of trying to renege on the deal when I am awakened by the “Mexican Quickstep”. The cramps are mild, so I’m not concerned but I do think Freud would have a quick interpretation for this dream sequence.
It is daybreak so I stay up and get the coffee going at the same time the workers next door start their day. They are in the tile cutting stage and we’re not sure what is more annoying, the high pitched whine of the tile cutting saws or the superfine grit that finds its way into all parts of our condo. We put up with the noise and have our colorful fruit breakfast on the deck as usual. On this sun splashed day, the beauty of the sparkling waves stretching to the haze where dark blue touches sky blue is all the cure we need for these annoyances.
After busing breakfast dishes Mary and I do our homemade yoga out of a book and then some body weight resistance exercises. Now we feel on top of our game and ready to tackle plan B, the task of figuring out a way to make a little money and stick down here. The end of the vacation part of our escape to México is drawing nigh and it is time to buckle down.
Mary gets out our file and we look at a number of print-outs from our pre-escape research but all the B&Bs or small hotels that are in our price range state cash terms. We have discovered, with our Libros y Suenos Hotel experience, that when they say cash they mean cash. The other print-outs are for properties that are priced, cash or finance, beyond our means, if we want to be honest with ourselves. We have found through experience that self deception can lead you to places that are appear totally different on the inside looking out than what you thought you saw on the outside looking in. But as “W” would say, enough philosophization.
Looks like plan B will have to wait until we get back online, on the next foray into Progreso, to hopefully find more choices and that will have to wait until tomorrow because my small disorder is still rumbling away and I do not want to stray too far from home. But it is a nearly perfect day to relax on our beach, so that's what we do! Mary does her crosswords and I read my low brow sci-fi between dips in the ocean.
Tom and Pam from Spokane stop by to chat. They tell of a friend of a friend who had an MCI, heart attack, in Progreso, and was whisked to a Mérida hospital. She had stent therapy, same as I had 3 years ago. But the big difference was her experience cost a total of $4000US, mine cost $35,000US. Another difference is my cardiologist stared at his watch while discharging me. This gal’s cardiologist gave her his email address and cell phone number. We had looked at a number of insurance options before coming down, but they all seem too expensive and we thought we’d just go self-insured, ie: without, until we figured something out while living here. But after hearing this story and with some other research we might stay pat for awhile yet. We can afford $4000.
The construction workers have knocked off for the day so we decide to play dominoes on the deck. Appropriately, Mexican Train is our game of choice. I win for the first time in many matches but Mary keeps the score respectable. Even though I won almost every hand she has this most annoying habit of getting stuck with very few pips. On one hand I stuck her with just one tile and then it was a double zero! I felt like I lost.
The sun is nearing the horizon as we finish up the game and it occurs to me that we have not actually seen the sun set, right into the ocean. Hurriedly we rush out the door and onto the beach. Walking quickly we traverse the shoreline west, hollering “Hola” to Justo our condo neighbor who is leaning on his deck railing enjoying the view. We round the bend and see the sun about one diameter above the indistinct horizon. It sinks quickly and then seems to momentarily flatten against the edge of the world before sinking into the ocean in an orange blaze and is gone. I feel like a child when I wonder why the day isn’t instantly dark, because the sun has suddenly disappeared.
We leisurely walk back to the condo, and we feel almost like you do when you exit out onto the sidewalk after a good movie at the theatre; somehow your surroundings seem surreal.
Back in the condo, I’m quickly brought back to reality by another cockroach sighting. It’s not exactly as if I’m a serial cockroach killer, we’ve only been visited by a few but I must say, all modesty aside, that I have developed quite the cockroach killing blow. With a magazine or shoe in hand I hit them with just the right amount of force to kill but not mash, which is messy. I deliver the perfect killing blow to this unfortunate cockroach and dispose of the carcass with nothing left behind for cockroach CSI.
We’re starting early, so we watch a couple DVD movies: All of Me, for which Steve Martin should have received an Academy Award and then we view Tom Hank’s Castaway. The mini movie marathon concludes at 10:30 and we are aghast, this is the latest we’ve been up for weeks. Off to bed and tomorrow we’ll check out the Shangrila gym and get online to investigate the local scene for small hotels and B&Bs that are on the market.
Thanks for visiting gentle reader. What do you think Bruce and Mary will accomplish tomorrow? Mary is on task but Bruce seems to be in the moment a bit much, don’t you think? Bruce appreciates any and all commentary. To comment, click on the post title and scroll down. Bruce acknowledges all comments in, what they call north of the border, “real time”. For those of you impatient with this blog getting caught up to real time please visit Bruce’s other blog which is current: http://setfreeinmexico.com/
Posted by: Bruce Kelley on 11/27/2009 at 5:00 PM | Comments (0) | Permalink
Tags: gulf coast, lily tomlin, steve martin, tom hanks
