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14
August 2002 - Starfish Trek Episode 4:
The
Attack Of The Tabanos
Hello
from Portillas again. This one isn’t really about
tabanos (the green horseflies that have man sized chompers.)
I just thought it was a catchy title in parody of Spielberg.
I have finally mastered the art of sensing their landing
on me so I can send them to visit Jesus right before they
can bite me. Now if I can only catch one with my chopsticks,
I will be one with the universe; or is it full of number
two?
A friend
asked me about grocery shopping and I started writing
about my first solo trip to Chetumal. Upon arrival at
Portillas, I was given a day of rest and whisked away
to Cancun for some shopping for basic needs and picking
up the rest of the furniture for the main house by a some
new friends who were mentoring me on solar power, rainwater
management and simple life in general. Speaking of arrival,
my first afternoon here I was greeted with a light refreshing
rain shower. After it was over, today’s attached
picture was the scene of the day. Enjoy!
I really
wasn't prepared for the trip to Cancun. My poor little
ole' pea brain still hadn't accepted the fact that there
wasn't a super Wal-Mart right around the corner. It hadn't
dawned on me it would cost $80 in fuel to just go to a
grocery store. So, I bought 10 days worth of groceries
to last me for almost 20. I really had to do some cobweb
clearing to remember all the coconut recipes I learned
in Bimini. I think this place must have once been a coconut
orchard because there are more coconuts here than anywhere
else I’ve seen. I've dreamed about Jasmine rice
to make Thai rice. Regular white rice cooked in fresh
coconut milk is pretty good though. I made pancakes with
coconut milk and used coconut butter on them and ate till
I hurt. I still have Bahamian Snow for breakfast as often
as I can. And I've invented a few dishes from coconuts
also.
Once my
money arrived in my bank account along with some I didn't
know I had because the 'puter was down, I was off to Chetumal
to go grocery shopping by myself. Still not knowing what
was and wasn't available here, it was next to impossible
to prepare. Trying to drive in Chetumal while trying to
read a nice map my new friend had so kindly given me (but
with leeeeetle tiny print) was more than a challenge.
First, all the street names are painted on a few of the
corner curbs. If somebody happens to be in traffic there,
I was honked at while waiting for them to move. Second,
I wish I had some sunglasses with my readers prescription.
Switching back and forth from my far seeing sunglasses
to my clear readers to read the map and then back to my
sunglasses to see to drive gave me a headache, not to
mention getting honked at more and getting lost to boot.
I did manage to find an ATM and stood in line watching
people who were evidently as confused as I was trying
to milk the quick cash machines. At least they even quit
using that term for them in the US also. By the time I
got up there, I figured it would be empty as many people
who took inch thick piles of money out of them. My turn
came. In English on the face of the machine in red is
a notice, "Do Not Accept Assistance From Anyone!"
I had to think, "Boy was I in the wrong place."
Sliding my one and only ATM card in, it quickly sucked
in and instantly spit it back almost all the way out and
as I reached to catch it, it sucked it back in again.
Hmmmm, I could learn Spanish here because it gave the
instructions in Spanish and right below, some poorly chosen
English words as a translation. Words like "Continue"
for what we see in the US as "Cancel." Dumb
old me, it only took me a few times in a do loop to realize
that green check mark instead of the red X was the way
to go. I had been told you cannot draw more than $300US
out of the machine in any one day so I decided to try
for $400 as I had called my bank before leaving and requested
my limit to be lifted and they recorded my acceptance
of their warning and agreed to do so. Excited at the screen
where I could enter the amount, I pressed 4 - 0 - 0 and
pushed the button next to the green check mark and it
started making that wonderful sound of a lot of money
being dispensed. Out popped my 400 pesos. Perturbed at
my stupidity, having just got less than $40US, I was elated
to be asked if I wanted another transaction. Now being
able to navigate to the input screen easily, I entered
4-0-0-0 this time and the screen started processing my
transaction. After a long time a screen came up I had
never seen stating I was limited to 1 transaction per
day. The line behind me appeared restless. I decided to
walk back to the truck and sip my Pepsi in the air conditioning
and plan a new strategy. As I sat staring at the BanaMex
sign, I noticed a familiar sign in my rear view mirror.
I had seen an ATM in Tampico at a Bital and there was
one across the street behind me! I decided to try another
bank. First I tried $5000 pesos (yea, they use the same
$ sign for pesos) - no good, "Transaction limit exceeded"
and I tried $4000 - no good. I stepped down $100 pesos
at a time and at $3600- Jackpot! I wonder how many banks
are in Chetumal. I looked and gave up at about noon. I
had been given directions to a computer store by Rafael,
our internet service guy, so I set out to find a three
story building named TelMex, the national telephone company.
It was right where a dot on the map was. I had learned
to park on the side of the street and walk to a corner
with names, figure out where I was, and count how many
streets I needed to pass before I had to stop again. Computerama
was across the street from TelMex but they didn't have
a video card that would work. Feeling totally dejected,
I looked up and saw yet another Bank! Like an oasis in
the desert, I ran right in, stuck my now worn card in
but was only able to get $500 pesos there. I drove to
the hardware store that was marked and they were closed.
It was 2:30 in the afternoon and this place was closed!
It seemed everything around was closed. Down the street
a way, I noticed a little old lady sitting on a wooden
stool in what appeared to be a convenience store only
it was only 5 feet by 6 feet in size. After several attempts
of my malo Espanol, I finally got across my question as
to why everything was closed and she gave me a one word
reply I instantly understood "Siesta!" And as
for "que hora" she replied, "Sinco."
I was supposed to be back by 9:00 that evening so I decided
to find the grocery store, San Francisco, and wait till
five, finish my month's grocery shopping and head back
home for the 4 1/2 hour drive. As I pulled into the San
Francisco parking lot, it was 3:30 and they were wide
open!
The mere
recollection of my thoughts of shopping for a month's
worth of groceries I've never seen before at the Mexican
grocery store goes through my mind like a bug's ass does
its own as it hits my windshield. I had already learned
the eggs aren't refrigerated and the milk comes in brick
sized cartons and isn’t refrigerated either. Herbert
left me some canned chicarones and said they were English
peas, which I like very much, but these were more like
pea gravel in a can. And my mentor had repeated numerous
times, "Food is different down here." I wasn't
totally disappointed in the food I bought in Cancun under
my new friend's trusted supervision. What he said was
good was good and what he said was different was . . .
different. The brands in the San Francisco were different
from the brands at the Super Wal-Mart in Cancun. Knowing
I am of the genus garbage disposal, I decided to try anything
at least once. I found myself pouring over every can trying
to find those illusive English words and studying the
cartoon caricatured pictures, trying to figure out what
was inside. I was safe with frijoles, arroz, azukar, pina,
mango, salsa espagetti, atun and salsa picante because
I already knew what they were. Once I figured out what
it was, I then had to figure out how many to buy to last
a month. I started just counting days worth of everything
as I went. When I filled two baskets and had a theoretical
45 days worth of food, I started wondering what I had
forgotten. Salt! I had forgotten all about salt! I ran
out over a week ago and finally boiled the water out of
the sea water making crusty little pinches of salt I could
microwave totally dry until I had enough to fill a shaker
about 3/8” before I added the rice. I had worked
so hard to get that salt, I swore I’d buy plenty
at the store and almost forgot it altogether. I knew the
word, “sal” and first went row by row searching
while pushing one and dragging the other basket. Leaving
both baskets, I searched the entire store three times.
Not a sign of a box of sal or the little “When it
rains, it pours.” lady. I asked one lady as she
pushed her basket and she pointed over to the bread area
(panderia) I looked all over there and then asked the
guy that bags the bread and pastries ( pan ) and when
I looked totally perplexed, he finally had mercy on my
soul and walked over and pointed at some 6” square
plastic bags of white powder stacked on a skid that looked
more like a pile of drugs in a movie than salt. They had
two kinds, “table” and “cucina.”
The cucina sal looks like a larger version of pretzel
salt. I grabbed a couple of each and headed for the checkout
counter looking like a good Mormon with my cache of groceries.
It took almost an hour just to check out with that many
groceries with the cashier sending one of the many eager
little bag boys in their white aprons off to get either
a price or a scanable label. I did my Redd Fox imitation
of “Elizabeth” when the cashier hit the total
button at $2769.00 and I hadn’t ordered Ice or the
7-5 gallon jugs of water I needed. A picture of me with
the look on my face and a pensive smile as I outstretched
my hand with my card and said, “Visa?” would
have made a great commercial. And an even better one with
the smile I had when she said, “Si!”
A great
new friend name Eric (he co-owns with Suzanne the local
XTC dive shop in Xcalak) came by this morning and asked
if I needed anything from Chetumal as he was making a
gas run for his boats. I had to think long and hard before
I said, “no thanks.”
I do hope
I haven’t bored any of you too much as I return
to my machete mowing. What I would give for a riding mower
right about now is obscene.
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