Jungle Journal Archives - Page 6 of 8

A beautiful lotus growing in our pool

Currently more of a pond…

Jungle Journal

Vampires & Ice Cream

September 11, 2018
by Beave

We have our small freezer full of devil fruit (nanas) and I am under some persuasive stress (nagging) to do something with them as there is an urgent requirement for more ice cream space. Thankfully a suitably qualified friend in Montreal had the genius idea of prison wine and I’m up for it. Wine making is an art and requires precision and skill. Prison wine requires none of that and it’s success is reliant on a good bucket and lot of luck. I boil up the offending fruit in a little sugar, limes, honey and raisins. It then cools down and ends up in the bucket with I suspect far too much yeast. The true prison method I am told is to add a slice of bread. I cover the brew with a loose lid and cloth and ignore for a few days. I can report that it currently smells bloody awful and tastes absolutely grotesque.

We found lamb in the back of a freezer section in a supermarket on special half price offer because it wasn’t goat. This is rather exciting and we decide to make great efforts to deliver the best jungle Sunday lamb dinner possible. I slow cook the lamb as roast vegetables and Yorkshire puddings are created followed by thick dark gravy. Yorkshire puds in the jungle is one of our finest achievements to date. Now as Yorkshire puddings are a gravy delivery systems we find out that a full lamb dinner is a red wine delivery system. Apparently it was a very memorable and delicious dinner. It ended up with a slightly tipsy (smashed) bunch of well fed folk in the pool. Lamb dinners give you hangovers. Who knew ?

We have had a number of days travelling to and from the delightfully surreal immigration office about an hour away from home in order to extend our temporary Mexican resident immigration status for another 3 years. The amount of fannying about is legendary. The administration for administration’s sake is astonishing. This place must produce forests of paper. Endless signatures. Online forms filled in to be printed a dozen times to allow for all the blue ink stamps to go somewhere. We are photographed and fingerprinted again just in case our faces and fingers have changed since last year. Compulsory waiting time is in days and weeks depending on the mood of the staff. Eventually, after some weeks of this, we arrive to deliver our final dozen signatures and are presented with our cards. Theoretically we don’t have to come back to this place until September 2021. Don’t believe that for a moment.

When in line (waiting in silence as is customary here) we see the effects of poorly communicated and complex administration. An old girl in her 70s with no Spanish has arrived back from seeing grandchildren in USA. She is retired and living here in Mexico. She has lost her temporary immigration card and wants it replaced. Without it she cannot get free medical services or apply for cell phone contracts, bank accounts and other day-to-day administrative things. It really is an essential for long term living here. On her way back from the USA the airline staff told everyone on the plane (no exceptions) to fill in the tourist immigration card and hand it in to officials as they arrived at the airport. Unbeknown to her, by doing this she has cancelled her temporary resident status and she must now go back to a Mexican embassy in the USA and start the torturous and expensive process all over again from the start. No exceptions. She is stunned and understandably distraught. This is not an uncommon story. No one really can understand all the rules and hoops of the immigration process (that change all the time) least of all airline staff. It is common for aircrew to insist on every passenger filling in forms that will cause serious issues down the line. We have a number of friends that have abandoned their immigration process in frustration. Easier for them to leave the country a couple of times a year and forgo any benefits of citizenship. Can’t blame them.

Aside from the immigration office there is another candidate for the honor of third circle of hell. The Telcel office. This is where great masses gather to wait for many hours to deal with their mobile phone issues. The floor is highly polished white tiles which show up every spec of muck. My first visit there directly from the jungle I left an impressive trail of muddy footprints. I stopped walking and found I was being followed closely by the angry cleaning lady with her wide footprint mop. As she was glaring at this particularly mucky gringo mud was dropping off me onto the floor in a pile. The queue behind me stared and tutted to add to my discomfort. We were then faced with desks full of clean cut, homogenous looking, highly made up, suited girls with limited training and teenage attitudes whose sole purpose in life is to make the process of having a mobile phone service unintelligible. You get a ticket and wait in line for maybe an hour or two to see which one of these girls gets to screw with you. If you don’t have a residence card your hours of waiting are for nothing. Even if it’s being renewed in immigration and you have a lovely photo of it on your phone. Even with a residence card the astonishing complexities which are applied to the most simple of processes test patience beyond male human endurance. Thankfully female endurance is sometimes a touch more resilient to bright red patronizing smiles, dark empty eyes and outright stupidity. After what seems like a week we leave with phones that work and a Wi-Fi box that gives us better service in the jungle at much lower cost than we had in UK. Having unlimited speedy quick Wi-Fi to offer guests and abuse ourselves is a great bonus. Almost worth the trauma. Theoretically we don’t have to return to this place until September 2020. I don’t believe it for a minute.

We have a breach in the water system. Despite the rain we have had, we now have two empty Tinacos so we set about refilling them so we can track down the leak. The water does not appear to be flowing from the pump so we measure current and check solar panels and our new check valve and all appears OK. We then decide to pull up the pump to see if there is an issue. The issue soon becomes clear. It’s an easy problem to diagnose. The pump has gone. Some twat has made off with it.

The well is close to our access road and the temptation to pinch an undefended pump was too much. It’s a 24v DC unit, which is absolutely useless to anyone but us so it’s not a good score. We need to re-enforce the well head, get our mate to bring a new pump from UK and get a good chain and lock on the thing. We have been too complacent. Good job we don’t have guests right now. Bloody bandits.

Our newest friends here have bought a beautiful house near by and we have a key to their spare rooms should we need them at any time. We stayed over last week after one too many tequilas and the next morning found a dead scorpion in the bed. It might have been our breath that killed it. Since that night our friend was stung four times in one go. Good immunity, a trip to the hospital and all is well. Another tequila fueled scorpion hunt with our black light and machete is planned. We were suitably sympathetic to his plight until our man calls us. He has been bitten by a vampire bat while sleeping in his house! The wound did not stop bleeding due to the anticoagulants in the bat’s saliva. A messy trip to the hospital later and a series of rabies shots are prescribed. Vampire bats are the primary carriers of rabies in the tropics. It’s a serious thing. Tens of thousands of cattle fall victim every season as well as a worrying number of people. We have made double extra sure our house is secure from bats. There is also a vaccine that we will investigate.

It’s a year to the day since we arrived in Mexico. We feel the need to mark the occasion so head out to a much recommended Thai restaurant about an hour away. There have been dreams of Pad Thai. We combine the trip with a visit to our favorite wood suppliers to price up the wood needed to rebuild the raised deck on the white house. It’s not cheap but achievable within budget if the rentals start coming in November. The Thai place, despite assurances on its website, is closed for the season. We have fasted all day so are not best pleased. Jayne’s disappointment at not taking down an immense Pad Thai is short lived as our favorite French place is open and nearby. We celebrate via the medium of outstanding food and wine.

We leave walking very slowly and contentedly with the memory of lobster tortallini and almond crusted red snapper with the lingering taste of the entire dessert menu. As we drag ourselves into the truck we notice the top of the palm trees bending and the sky darkening quickly. There should be at least an hour of light left so we take a chance and make a quick supermarket stop before heading back. At the check outs the clouds break and it chucks it down. We run to the truck but are already soaked. The slow drive down the bloody highway 200 keeps us wide-awake. The wipers are not quite fast enough and it’s suddenly dark. The high beam lights in our eyes and reflections from the wet road surface blind us. We make it to our road and across the first three arroyos that are all flowing. We are then faced with the front end of a lumber truck that has broken down blocking the road. It’s pitch black and the rain is coming down hard and fast. The lightening is close and bright and shows us the way. We brave it and help tow the truck to a less inconvenient spot. We break a ratchet strap in the process but end up using jumper cables as a tow rope and surprisingly that worked. The driver is grateful and we head for home. Arroyo number four which is fed directly from the mountains has other ideas. It’s a raging torrent and there is no chance of getting a truck across it. We back up and head back to town. We will blag a bed for the night and try again tomorrow. Arroyo number three has other ideas. Since we crossed it 20 minutes previously it has become deep and fast flowing. I’m already soaked so I wade out and all too soon end up in thick mud and water well up my legs with a very strong current trying its best to carry me off. I’m only a few feet from where I started . No chance of getting across that even by foot. We are stuck.

No let up in the rain at all so it’s going to be a long night. The truck is moved to higher ground. We are stupidly unprepared. No torch. No shoes. No real food. No blanket. We are in our “going out” lightest clothes which are soaked and stuck to us. Thankfully the air is still warm. Our stop at the supermarket included a bottle of wine and some rapidly melting ice cream. We sit in the truck cab and contemplate an ice cream and wine after dinner snack and then trying to sleep. We see torch beams coming from up stream. Only when the lights get right up to the window do we recognize our man and his wife. They too are soaked to the skin and like us they are trapped between the two arroyos. They jump in the back and we set off to investigate the situation. We all stand at arroyo four and survey the water lit up by the lightening and easily agree it’s way too dangerous to attempt to cross. We walk upstream and it just gets worse. Our man disappears downstream and we head back to the truck to get out of the rain. Some minutes later we see a torch on the opposite bank. Our slightly insane hero returns and guides us to a spot where the river widens and the water is less aggressive. He has attached a rope between two trees. We collect the essentials (melty ice cream) , abandon the truck and make the crossing one by one. The current is strong but the rope makes it safe enough. We are grateful that by chance we left the Polaris ATV at our man’s place on the bank in order to collect our truck he was borrowing. We load up, bid farewell and head for home. We easily make it across the first stream and then find the river next to our land is flowing strongly and has washed out big sections. The Polaris eats it up and delivers us home. The rain has reduced a little. We are not contorted half asleep in our truck cab. Never have we been happier to walk up those 17 steps, soaking wet, surrounded by fireflies and covered in melted ice cream.

Jungle Journal

A Year of Adventure

September 6, 2018
by Jayne

We only had three months from when we first fell in love with La Colina to pack up our lives in England, clear out and find renters for our house, apply for Mexican resident visas, and say goodbye to our UK friends and family.

It was a year ago today Beave and I arrived in Mexico with 11 bags and a surfboard to start our lives anew.

Ready to head to Mexico in September 2017

We made the decision to move to Mexico spontaneously – a decision to follow our hearts as opposed to a carefully planned out strategic move.

It could have so easily turned out to be a decision we would regret, however I am grateful every day that we did it, and chose the adventurous option.

I regret nothing about our move to this beautiful land of friendly people and endless opportunity.

Throughout my life I’ve found that making the choice to travel, to explore, to learn new things, meet new people and get out of my comfort zone has always been the right choice. While deliberating whether to quit my corporate job to ride a motorcycle from Alaska to Argentina (a prime example of one of my adventurous, life-changing decisions) my close friend Dave gave me advice I will never forget.

He said: “If you don’t do it, and stay here, how many days will you be in a meeting or sitting at your desk wishing you were riding a motorcycle across two continents? And, if you do it, how many days will you be on your motorbike wishing you were back here in England at work?”

I spent 20 months on that voyage, and can assure you that I didn’t spend even one second wishing I hadn’t chosen adventure.

Even soaked to the bone, having crashed on the highway in Chile because of a flat front tire was better than working a traditional corporate job.

A year ago Beave and I arrived to San Pancho, the quaint Mexican village we now call home, to the streets running with six inches of water, energy-sapping heat and humidity, and the beautiful sandy beach having been half washed away.

We weren’t able to close on our purchase of the land because of a series of bureaucratic delays, and the pick-up truck we had rented was unable to make it down the 1km dirt road and across the five arroyos (streams) required to reach La Colina.

We abandoned the truck at the biggest, fast flowing arroyo, waded across and walked the rest of the way.

The land was much lusher and greener than when we had fallen in love with it, 12 weeks earlier, and the task ahead of us all the more real.

The Bodega and Selva Vista when we first took possession

Even when my dear friend Abi, who was with us that day, said with worry in her eyes: “Oh Jayne you have such a lot to do!!!” I felt much more excitement and potential than I did fear or apprehension.

We worked hard for the next six months. With help from our new friend and neighbour Rogelio, my dad, friends visiting from around the world, new friends met here in Mexico, Beave’s son Jake, and cheered on by friends and family globally, we transformed this piece of long abandoned jungle into a place where people can come unplug, get in touch with nature, experience off-grid living, and find themselves.

Jayne and Beave being the gate to La Colina in Sept 2017

The Selva Vista Sky Casita – rustic luxury in the Mexican jungle Sept 2018

More importantly than that, we created a home for ourselves, one which we love being in so much, that for the first time in many, many years, neither of us feel compelled to leave to explore the rest of the world.

Have you seen the beautiful two minute video our friend Tim and his drone made of La Colina? If not, click here to see it on our homepage.

We have had so many momentous successes. The day we got water pumping from our well to the tinacos (water tanks) high up on the hill above, the day we finally switched on the power from our 12 solar panels and I could finally have a fridge (and a freezer full of ice cream!), the day I first had a hot water shower in the jungle (thanks Dad!), the week at Easter when all our cabañas were fully booked and we actually made more money than we spent that month.

That time when we made water flow uphill!

It is a real gift to finally find the spot on the planet which challenges, inspires and comforts us all at once. A place which we are proud to show to friends, family and strangers, and which constantly surprises and delights us with its wonders and absurdities.

Amazing San Pancho Sunset Photo: John Curley

Every week the jungle changes character, fireflies and butterflies give way to armadillos and passion fruit, the dry season’s hot days and cool nights morph into summer’s humidity and thunderstorms. Each development a cause for wonder and delight.

The less-than-delightful happens too of course. Trees fall (sometimes on us!), bees and wasps sting, and we’re constantly dirty; but we’re happy and busy and surrounded by love.

That time when a huge tree branch fell on our ATV!

We have met so many amazing people in the past year. There is something about this small corner of the planet which attracts great humans. We are fortunate to be able to call many of them our friends, and are thrilled that so many who have come to visit are considering making Mexico their home as well.

Amongst all the magic, the progress and the love, there have been two major challenges.

The first is being away from family. It is indescribably difficult to be on a different continent when your loved ones are facing challenges and/or celebrating special occasions. All the phone calls and skype video in the world are not the same as being physically able to be there when a loved one needs your support, or to celebrate special achievements and occasions. This is a challenge I have faced most of my adult life due to my passion for travel, even having faced it over many years doesn’t make it any easier.

Our second challenge has been financial. While the cost of living in Mexico is generally much more affordable than in much of the developed world, our desire to invest in La Colina has meant that we have recently found ourselves property rich and cash poor. Our families and friends have been incredibly generous with gifts, loans, cash and hiring us to work for them. It is because of you amazing people that we are still solvent. THANK YOU!!

We very much hope that the coming months will see more paying guests coming to stay at La Colina, and we have started to find other opportunities here to make some extra cash. It will be a glorious, and hopefully not far-off day that our incomings are higher than our outgoings!

I think all entrepreneurs starting a new business have this challenge to overcome, the period when their investments into their future are high and the income hasn’t started to flow. It takes a lot of faith in the new venture(s), and definitely some belt-tightening and careful budgeting, to get through to the awaited days of plenty.

There’s always the possibility (threat?) of getting a 9-5 job to spur us on to making a success of ourselves!!

Come play in the jungle with us! photo: John Curley

If it weren’t for small challenges to keep us down to earth, we might very well get too full of ourselves. It is with no small amount of amazement and gratitude that I look out of my treehouse, with our cat Maustrappe licking my feet, our three remaining (still eggless) chickens scratching around for bugs, our glistening swimming pool nestled amongst the palm trees and jungle growth, knowing that we live in a community of incredible people, protectors of an ancient jungle filled with fruit trees, home to countless animals and plants, with plenty of room to welcome all those who find themselves in need of a break from their default world. (Is this you? Come visit us!)

It’s been one of the most memorable and special years of my life, and I can’t wait to see what happens in the next year. Thank you to each and every one of you for following along with our adventures, for your support and for your love.

This adventure would not be the same without you.

Jungle Journal

La Belle Verte

August 31, 2018
by Beave

It’s dark. Once again I’m on the balcony watching the fire flies and the lightening close in anticipating the rain. Through the window I see Mausetrappe chasing something around the floor. It catches my attention as it’s not clear or obvious what it is. It looks like some fair size bug with its wings bitten off. This I decide is the most likely but it is moving unusually fast and acrobatically. Not surprising because the cat looks intent on eating the thing. The escapee jumps in the air and hides under the fridge. Mausetrappe looks away for an instant and it leaps out and lands at my feet. Taking a closer look I am properly freaked out to see something twitchy and unidentifiable with no eyes, legs, wings or features. It’s a disembodied tail. It is winding the cat up magnificently. I check the corners of the room to see from whence it came. I catch sight of a snake and chase it out the house via the shower but it looks intact. Tail fully attached. I then spot the cat trying to pry a tail-less gecko from its hiding place where it is proudly and safely watching events. I catch him and release him. His unbelievably animated tail sacrifice saved him. Since this incident I have tried to save a couple of geckos from the cat and seen them dispatch their tails at close quarters. The gecko speeds off and leaves their tail to break dance and summersault wildly. Best distraction ever. Smart nature but proper weird and not a little creepy!

We have put out the word with a local butcher for a lamb. Rumors are amuck that such a thing exists and that we can buy a whole one for a very reasonable amount of pesos. Lamb chops, melty shanks, Sunday slow cook leg, roast shoulder…. in our future. We wait for the call from the man who knows the man who knows the lamb. We wait. Eventually we have the offer. A man will deliver to the man who will deliver to the butcher who will deliver to us a goat. It’s the same as a lamb in Birria right? Birria is a dark red highly spiced hang over stew/soup of long cooked meat available to nourish the dehydrated and sweat excess tequila from the body for breakfast every Sunday. No one can quite understand that we want to eat lamb when there is perfectly good goat available. The word is still out…. We wait.

We are completely swamped with enquiries from locals, internationals and gringos alike wanting our help with all sorts of buying, building, selling and renting adventures. Our makeshift office in the pub has been fully occupied for the last few days. We are sorta kinda relived the pub is now shut for the next three weeks. Tequila & bad karaoke and complicated Mexican legal procedures do not mix perfectly. Our first “corporate” day out involved much ale, pizza and a flat tyre. It’s a good start we think.

There is a good scattering of strange fruit on the ground that is attracting pretty much everything. Two large trees are shedding them in great numbers. The butterflies cling to them and drink the juice as they sweat in the heat. The jungle floor is alive with a multitude of butterfly wings of all patterns and a slightly fruity smell. We are surrounded by colour as they take flight around us. The ants and wasps eat the yellow flesh in no time and leave the orange stones. I have taken to using the side of my machete as a bat and hitting the stones at pre determined targets (usually a tree branch or a chicken). It’s a simple pleasure but my accuracy now is much improved. It has been suggested by the locals that the yellow fruit we can’t identify is some sort of sweet fig. I am unsure of that but we have asked a number of very nature savvy people who shrug and suggest it’s another local freaky hybrid.

Protecting turtles is a huge issue for Nayarit and the entire Pacific Coast of Mexico. Turtles have nested here for many thousands of years and thankfully the government take their well being very seriously. We heard tell of a local poacher who was caught with 300 eggs and sentenced to seven years imprisonment. He was up for release recently and faced the judge again with 6 months to go to be informed that he still had to pay a fine. 100 000 pesos for each 100 eggs. As you have to pay for your own blankets and food in Mexican prisons and his wife had left him and sold everything while he was inside he was unable to pay. He is not attracting much sympathy so may be inside for a long time yet. The police have just conducted a raid on our beaches here to catch more poachers. We were invited to assist but there is a law that only Mexican citizens can be “official turtle protectors” and the police were in serious mood so we gave it a miss. Last night at 2 am there was a nest of 110 eggs saved and two poachers chased through the hills. The big result of the night was that a local “turtle protection officer” was found to be in league with the poachers. There is a tradition that he will suffer the wroth of the community he has deceived by being taken to a remote spot and beaten with wooden sticks before the law get to throw him in prison. You don’t mess with turtles in our town.

We are looking ahead to dryer days and deciding what to create next. There are two structures we haven’t touched on our land as we ran out of time and cash. The scorpion temple and the white house. The large white house is likely to be our forthcoming focus. We will wait for the rains to blow themselves out when they eventually come and then make a plan. The roof trusses are in place and in good shape so that just needs a cover of some sort. All the floorboards and supports are termite food so they need to be completely replaced. The shower and toilet block are solid so a new window or two, taps, shower head, paint and some spit and polish should make it a splendid prospect. The view from that spot is over the treetops of the protected jungle and is one of our best. We expect to have created a multi-function space for a yoga/bird watching platform and an open air bedroom overlooking the canopy in about 6-8 weeks from the start point. There is a little creative vision required. Looking forward to starting this process as soon as I can work outside for more than 10 minutes at a time without passing out.

Pineapples are appearing everywhere. It’s one of the many pineapple seasons locally. Our man has been working in the local fields planting maize and picking pineapples. Our current method of production is to save all the pineapple tops we use and dry them, soaking them and replanting them. He has however acquired us a large number of fruit and pre-rooted well-established bases from the fields . I spend time creating space in the green landscape and planting them out along with the half dozen heads we still have rooting in pots of water all over the house. In about a years time we will have heaps of them. We know that pineapples require a seriously worrying amount of chemicals and water to grow commercially but we will deploy organic methods. More learning required. It will be worth it as our house currently has a very healthy fresh pineapple smell, which is a great deal better than damp flip-flops and moldy pants.

Jayne does something remarkable. She gets out of bed and gets dressed without violence or injury before 8 am. We have been invited to meet our man at a local farmstead and milk the cows. We are in need of a reliable source of fresh milk and so we present ourselves. Two bleary eyed gringos watching rancheros do their thing. Our “help” is an event in itself. Jayne realizes that a milkmaid she is not. The cow stubbornly holds onto its milk and the teat delivers but the tiniest dribble to the bucket. Our man takes over and extracts about half a pint a squeeze! I give it a go and soon realize the hand strength required. I’m told not to pull but squeeze hard. Our cow has her rear legs tied together so I don’t get kicked so I am over confident. I manage a steady stream of high froth and then quickly relegated to the bench while our man takes over. Life is too short to watch a gringo milk a cow. The kicker comes with the tradition of breakfast from the milking stool. Large cups are filled with spoonfuls of Choco-milk powder and heavy pours of good tequila. We then take turns to milk the cow directly into the cup which now overflows with warm, sweet, frothy Choco-tequila. It’s surprisingly delicious and filling and effective. Great way to let the day begin.

We had an unexpected flush of guests in August which was welcome. This we found to be partly due to the Mexican four week school holidays which have just finished. We have learned, however, that we have to improve our information, especially in Spanish. Despite being as clear as we thought we could be about what to expect from an AirBnB booking and managing guests’ expectations (this is not a 5 star resort in the jungle) it is becoming obvious that a lot of folk just don’t bother reading it. Minimum requirements to book with us are that everyone accepts that we are off grid, in the jungle, a few km from the beach down a country road and that we don’t use water in the toilets. This comes as a great surprise to a few guests when they arrive late, in high heel shoes, with no torch in their town car wanting the wi-fi code and horrified by the thought of crapping in a bucket. There was a family of five adults stayed with us for two nights who couldn’t bring themselves to use the facilities even once. Empty buckets! We have been advised that due to our excellent feedback since March we are “superhosts” with AirBnB and we want to keep that up. It’s great for business and we don’t want to spoil it by attracting the wrong people for our place. We know it’s extraordinary & unique to stay here and almost everyone who stays here agrees so we have added a few extra pictures of poo buckets on our AirBnB site to scare off some of the potentially squeamish sorts.

Some of our newest arrivals have been attracted by the overgrowth. A donkey, a mule and a horse go into a jungle bar and decide to stay. The three free range souls arrived with us a week ago and seem to like it here. They don’t appear to be missed by anyone and they are keeping the greenery slightly less overwhelming. And overwhelming it is. Despite much machete work the green stuff, beautiful as it is, keeps coming. We can’t see our house now from the road. Anything left out and within range has vines and branches quickly reaching out to embrace it.

The past few nights we have had some encouraging and spectacular storms. More rain fell in the past few days than in the past few weeks. For a tantalizingly short time we had two out of five rivers flowing. The one past our house and the big one from the mountains. Its been enough to wash out the river beds . I have spent days moving rocks and filling in roads and maintaining our water diversion trenches. Despite all efforts access to us is now by 4×4 only.

By November the rains & humidity will be on their way out. Surf will be amazing, the bars and restaurants will reopen (pretty much everything is closed now) and life will return to San Pancho. We will then reappear, ragged from our damp, hot jungle slightly stir crazy to lower the tone somewhat.

Jungle Journal

Snake Tricks & a Flying Robot

August 19, 2018August 19, 2018
by Beave

The trees are magnificent. Empowered by rain they wrap around each other for support while extending branches of thick foliage across the sky. Perfectly lovely if you are not a solar panel trying to avoid shade. A group of electric guest fans, a couple of fridges and some cloudy days have taken their toll on our batteries. The fact we have a very limited sunshine window and growing tree shadow is less than helpful. Our heavy generator is brought into the battery house and plugged in to top them up. The trees around the panels are getting careful attention as we decide which of the branches 150 foot off the ground are going to get it. There is lopping in our future. We put the word out for someone brave and daft enough to take this on.

We have been gifted a number of obscure objects over the months. Amongst the haul are two very distinctive shaped machetes from the Revolutionary Army in Columbia. They are considered less tools than considerably effective weapons. Originally they were part of the FARC armory before there was a weapons amnesty. Subsequently and corruptly the collected weaponry piles were sold on to buyers in USA. We were gifted them as an American friend headed north. We have found an alternative use for them. When sharpened the heavy multi-faceted blades are very effective in destroying the endless growth that is overtaking us. Our standard machetes will take off the leaves and shoots but leave the roots. We are effectively pruning the buggers and making them stronger! Our FARC versions take the whole of them out in one go and scatter them elsewhere. Brutal but effective. Good luck coming back from that! Everyday I carry one with me wherever I go and, poco a poco, the paths are clearing up and the jungle is, for a very short period of time, tamed. False sense of achievement I suspect.

During one of my slow journeys through one of the jungle paths I am slowly clearing the worst of the greenery that is right ahead of me. I scatter a few tiny palm start-ups into the bush, which in the corner of my vision moves in a very familiar way. A few feet away from me is a dark green snake of significant size. Its black and white head is a foot above the ground and very still while looking straight at me. In contrast there is a whip lizard flicking its body wildly around as it vanishes at great speed down the snake and is rapidly fully swallowed with the exception of the very end of it’s tail that stick out the side of the very contented snake’s mouth. We stare at each other motionless apart from the odd twitch of the lizard’s tail. I reach for my phone to take a picture but I don’t have it with me and for a fraction of a moment I divert my eyes. The snake vanishes. It was right there and now gone. The bush moves slightly directly in my vision and the snake reappears like a vision. Exactly in the same place and in the same position. It hadn’t moved but had vanished and reappeared right in front of me. A snake with an invisibility cloak?? How do they do that!!??

I have watched snakes do this a number of times here. I found a modest size python curled up in the pool house and because I had thick gloves on and was hot and sweaty and in no mood to be buggered about by a snake I picked him up and threw him out into the bush. I then watched as the thing uncurled itself to its full length and make a slow movement by which it dissolved into the ground and vanished. I looked for it for a good while before giving up to extraordinary camouflage.

I am at the pool and I hear Jayne making noises from the tree house that sound a little distressed. Nothing too panicked but certainly some form of unhappiness. As I get closer to the source I hear the word “snaaaaiyke”. I get to the balcony armed with traditional long machete and see a good size green, blue and black snake poking its head out of the plants with a surprised looking frog in its mouth. Half the frog has turned a disturbing yellow colour so the snake is most likely poisonous. I put the end of the machete blade under the frog and lift the snake’s head upwards. I follow its body through the plants and can see that most of the snake is hanging over the side. By lifting its head its weight shifts backwards and both snake & frog fall off. I instantly look over the side and see absolutely nothing. I return to underneath the house exactly where it fell. No sign at all although at all times my machete is very much at the ready.

Bananas have ripened and we are ready to create all things bananary. Jayne is less than delighted.

It’s officially over 25 years since there has been so little water falling from the skies in mid August. In 3 weeks time we will have been in Mexico for a whole year. At that time last year San Pancho had a foot of water flowing down the streets and the arroyos (rivers) were full enough to stop us getting out here to our land for a month! Today there has been no rain at all for nearly a week. No gut wrenching thunderstorm for many weeks and all the rivers are dry. There is ground water. Thankfully our well is full enough and our new pump delivering up to a tinaco full a day (which for us is outstanding). For everyone without a well this is not good news at all. Unless we all start the dry season with full wells and good water flow in the rivers there will be huge issues down the line. We are dancing for rain right now.

While we make good with our water and fill up all our tinacos there are some repairs to do and some pumps to install and general maintenance stuff on the to do list. There are many thousands of large biting ants in endless marching lines that criss cross the jungle floor. They regularly chose to march exactly where I am working and bite my feet to make some territorial point. It proves how humid it is that even the shortest climb into the jungle is so completely exhausting. I return from very light work completely bitten and scratched and mucky with sweat. I have found an added fun experience to avoid. The ground has hidden within it large and very strong thorns. I managed to get one to go entirely through my sandal and half and inch into my foot mid jungle climb. If a ginger man screams abuse in the jungle and no one is there to hear does he make a sound?

Sister Allenby has followed Sister Flowers into the chicken jungle black hole. We are down to three jungle chickens. Jayne insists they have both fallen in love with local roosters and eloped. My theory involves slightly more violence and a snake and/or an eagle. The remaining brood are properly freaked out so have likely witnessed something traumatic. We need to encourage the survivors to nest in their house and not the trees. It’s safer and I’m not climbing trees to collect eggs that may or may not appear in the future. We relocate the house in a clear open spot and after much buggering about mange to get them locked in. A few days of house arrest should reeducate them, google has told us.

There is a common effect of coming out here and staying with us for a while. Be warned. Folk don’t want to go home. It’s slightly more than end of holiday blues. The space and pace here are seductive. Returning to an overpriced, overworked society where ones values can’t be expressed and ones expressions are undervalued is not easy. The politics above the wall doesn’t help with motivation either. So we get a good amount of good people wanting to be our neighbours.

The search for land/property is a well trodden path here but it’s not easy to navigate. Almost everyone has a story about buying land and some of them are sadly pretty tragic. There is a real need for independent honest trustworthy guidance to get through the red tape of owning property in Mexico and not get screwed. Estate agents work on USA style commissions. They get a whopping 4% of the value of the sale from the seller and a further 4% if they act on behalf of the buyer too. That’s a big lump and so the temptation to get sales complete at any cost is strong. There are many locals (Mexicans) who do not trust the system and sell directly. Anyone can act as agent in any sale in Mexico. No training or qualifications required.

In our time here we have been offered many plots of land and have quite a portfolio that had developed without trying. We also have a growing list of potential buyers that know and trust us. We also have very effective contacts that we trust in the industry that can get us all the information any buyer needs (but doesn’t know they need) faster, cheaper and more accurately than by any other means. A team of us are in discussions about how to offer these services that we are finding are greatly needed.

This coincides with a change in the way things are generally administered by officialdom. In the past week the six officers in charge of agreeing building permits in our area have all been fired. It’s not uncommon for building permits to be agreed with the help of a donation and the paperwork issued but not registered. In these cases the building work does not have genuine permissions and the documents are useless down the line should there be any real inspections. Expensive business corruption. The new AMLO anti corruption promises appear to be happening. Proper officials are being employed to do official properness in Mexico! Now it’s not who you pay donations to but more who you know that’s important. It’s a well needed and popular change.

Drones bloody drones. Drive me nuts. Whining, buzzy, oversize flying pests invading your privacy unannounced, without permission and unwelcome. They appear on the most deserted beaches and idyllic spaces just to make the experience worse for everyone except the entitled twat who is making his video.

That said with extreme reluctance I have to accept that they have become quite amazingly evolved bits of robotic engineering and they can take images that are highly impressive. Our mate arrives from South Africa via the rest of the world on a very large motorbike with very limited luggage and a brand new drone. It’s compact, sexy mate black, sleek and has anti collision lasers and remote self steadying probes installed in every orifice. It has the invaluable added feature of being reasonably idiot proof . It takes flight and hovers in our faces a few feet from the balcony. It won’t come any further as it has sensed idiots and won’t land at our feet. I reach out and grab it to pull it in. It’s motors and rotors rev aggressively and the thing pulls away from my grip in an escape pattern. Idiot proof.

It takes a surprisingly short time to use up all the battery life and the SD card with images taken from a few feet to many hundreds of feet away. We respect the thing for its elegance in flight and for clearly being a lot smarter than any of us. With a good number of edits and a search for un-copyrighted music we can use in the background (there are algorithms on social media that catch you using copyrighted music they tell me !!) our mate creates for us a short video introduction to La Colina. We like it a lot. I still want to train hawks to take drones down on every beach but this little flying robot was a lot of fun for while. https://vimeo.com/285364199

Digging in 90% plus humidity is a short lived activity. I get motivated to create or modify a drainage trench and set about it with shovel and pick with as much energy and enthusiasm as can be mustered. It’s usually about 10 minutes into smashing the rock filled earth that the dizziness sets in. The warm soupy air that I’m gasping for seems to contain more damp than oxygen. I breathe the wetness hard into my lungs as all the fluids pour quite literally from my body soaking the ground around me. Enough. I stick my sodden shirt to the balcony to dry and limp to the shower where I exchange my sweat for fresher stuff. I put a towel on the bed and lie down aware of the itchy burning heat on my skin mixed with the entire lack of energy or enthusiasm. Mausetrappe jumps up and grabs my legs while chewing at my feet. She is also overheated and slightly crazy. The largest electric fan we have is directed at the bed and revives us both very very slowly. This process can be repeated many times a day.

We hear again of a dear young friend who has passed this week. Died at his home in California of a seizure after a weekend surfing with friends. It’s very sad. Counting our blessings everyday.

Our favorite pub/bar that is currently open closes next week till mid September. Endless Summer is a bar in Los De Marcos about 10 minutes up the highway. It’s a Canadian branded place with lots of TVs showing all the sports the Canadians care about (hockey) and does a passable Poutine. For non Canadians that is the posh French name for a plate of chips and gravy with cheese. Authentically cheese that squeeks audibly when you bite it but that is a rare thing outside of Montreal. It has a dartboard with terribly bent darts with loose flights so that’s traditional. This bar has the major advantage of having a very high concentration of good people so the lack of draught Guinness and premier league football is forgiven. We are on our way there now to offer our support and assist with reducing the stock levels.

Jungle Journal

The Cake Distraction

August 7, 2018
by Beave

The thunderstorms when they arrive are extraordinary. We are floating in the pool watching large drops of rain falling and landing painfully on our faces. We retreat to the house as the dark sets in and the weather gets serious. The sky flashes constantly with sheet lightening. Then the fork lightening hits very close just behind deafening thunder that shakes the house and moves the air around us. Everything lights up bright as day. This lasts for a number of hours without a break. We hide in the tree house and watch the show. A vast amount of water is dumped on the jungle that happily sucks it up.

The fireflies are here in force now the water has turned up. When the moon is waning and the nights are darkest it is pretty much impossible to tell where the stars stop and the fireflies begin. It’s stunning.

My Dad is unwell and we arrange to return to the UK to see him and clear out our house to make it more saleable. It’s tough to leave this place emotionally and logistically. We have our man guarding the land & have cancelled a booking or two. We have acquired standby flights, which saves us a large chunk of cash. We pack light and accept a lift to the airport.

We are arriving in the UK about the same time as Trump. London is rammed with protesters. Only the Brits can come up with such spectacularly abusive banners and be encouraged by the London mayor to wield them in public. My daughter is front and center in Trafalgar Square under the Trump blimp balloon. Very proud Dad.

Aircraft seating is designed for humans of different dimensions to me. My shoulders are wider than any seat on any plane. My legs are long enough to jam in front of me if my knees touch my nose. It’s not pretty. Sleep is impossible. 11 hours of numbing contortions later we land in London. We are collected and taken for a quick lunch by Jayne’s Uncle and then head to Lincolnshire on the train loaded with newspapers & cake. The jet lag kicks in properly. The words on the page are blurred and the cake remains uneaten. I watch the countryside pass by baked by unfamiliar sunshine. Everyone we meet bangs on about the heat wave. The UK has a single week of sun and there is such a drama and hose pipe bans as standard. It’s been sunny here now for months and the population is going nuts. World Cup football and no rain. Doesn’t get better than this.

We finally arrive and my Mum collects us from the station. We have arrived in a state of hallucinogenic fatigue with stale clothes stuck to us holding newspapers and cake. We spend a few hours struggling hard to stay awake until dark when we have planned to give in. I am fully jet lagged. My brain is effectively useless. I realise how useless when I set about unpacking. My backpack has our two laptops, a tablet, kindle, all my most important paperwork and pretty much everything of any value that we own. It’s not there. It’s not anywhere. It’s vanished. I’m gripped with slow gut gripping panic. I have a clear memory of moving uneaten cake from next to my backpack as we left the train. It must have been on my back. The car is searched a dozen times as is every inch of the house. No mistake our lives in a bag is missing. We are in the car driving the 30 minutes back to the train station. The rising level of stupid mixed with anxiety and the growing realization of the many many consequences of losing ALL our most important things does not make for a good driving state. We somehow arrive at Grantham station without an incident.

At this point our angels conspire to save us from our imbecilic selves. Grantham customer services happily confirm that I am indeed an idiot. I was distracted by cake and left the bag on the train. It has been found at the next station 20 minutes drive away. We manage to avoid collisions and police speed traps and arrive at Newark Northgate station customer services. The boys there recognize a moron when they see one and give me an appropriate amount of banter. The bag is returned. I can’t remember being as grateful. I get back to the car and realize I am without my wallet. I return to Newark North Gate station customer services to prove beyond any doubt what a complete fool I have become. They look at me with almost disbelief as they remind me I put my wallet in my newly returned bag. I thank them once again and invite them all to Mexico. They clearly never want to see me again. Bloody cake.

Darlington in the sun. We have rented a van and arrive at my house which we emptied in a massive hurry 10 short months ago so we could rent it out. It’s currently for sale as we intend to move our kids inheritance to Mexico (with their permission). We very cleverly created three hidden spaces in the house where we have stashed all the things we didn’t throw out or sell. We are here to clear these spaces. One is an entire cellar and the others are attic spaces. Memory is a strange thing. We have very generously been gifted a storage area at a friends house which is more than adequate for the few boxes of stuff we need to move. Three days of hard graft later our friends now hate us. Their house is now home to a full size Elvis, two mannequin wives and four rammed van loads of our ever expanding stuff.

Our great value standby tickets from London Heathrow to Mexico City require us to be at the airport for 9:30 pm to grab the first two spare seats available. This involves a long sweaty airless hour and a half tube ride from our friend’s flat in London in the heat wave. We have acquired two suitcases which are rammed with all the best 25kg of things we have rediscovered along with as much hardcore cheese and marmite as we could squeeze in. We are fully laden and exhausted and ready to fail to sleep for another 11 hours. This was not to be. We have chosen the busiest week of the year at Heathrow. First week of school holidays. Everyone wants to go to Mexico City. The flight is overbooked and we are 11^th and 12^th on the standby list. Not happening today. Maybe tomorrow. We stash our bags and return to the delights of overheated London.

Tomorrow comes. This is the busiest day of the entire year at Heathrow. No seats. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow comes. With immense relief that we don’t have to get on the suffocating tube yet again… we fly away. Thankfully we have spent two unexpected days in steaming hot London abusing hospitality, eating well, loading up on Guinness and catching up with friends. Some of which we said goodbye to 3 times. We even squeezed in a visit to the National Portrait Gallery which is entirely impressive. This was my favorite. “An angel at my table” by Miriam Escofet . A portrait of the artist’s mother.

We are relieved and delighted to be home. We unload our massive amount of cheese and marmite into the Razor and head back to the land. The rains have been regular since we left but nothing dramatic and to our surprise the arroyos (rivers) are still dry. This is unusual. Never been this dry this late in the year we are told. As we drive there are clouds of butterflies surrounding us. Many types and colours and thousands of the buggers. There are clusters of them all over the place. We disturb them walking around and are covered. It’s extraordinary.

We are straight to work. We have to get water pumping and we install our third water pump which we have brought with us from the UK. The second pump proved to be worn out. Probably was running without water in the well and stuffed the motor. Anyway our third pump is running like a champ and we are back to full tinacos in no time. The rain tends to wash out some sections of road quickly so I am deployed with pick axe to create water trenches leading the flowing water down drainage channels rather than removing our road. So far they have worked well which means I will have to create more of them. We have Hurricane John and Hurricane Ileana whipping things up out past Baja so we are expecting a huge water dump sometime soon.

In our absence the rains have taken down our devil fruit tree ( as Jayne affectionately calls it due to her deep seated loathing of all things bananary). We have rescued all the fruit we can and to Jayne’s great delight they are ripening slowly on our balcony.

We have three sets of guests arriving in the next week so we have to set about making the pool sexy and clean all the cabanas. We remove all the sheets from the beds and find half of them to contain mouse nests! With mice in residence. Mausetrappe is deployed. Everything washed and replaced and we add an electric fan next to every bed. It’s inhumane to not have a fan handy in this humidity.

Our house is in one piece but now sits in a huge mass of green foliage. It’s machete time. The boys have spent two solid days on hands and knees removing as much of the new growth as they could. It’s a losing battle these days but we keep at it. We survey the massively overgrown land. It’s only been two weeks but it’s changed so much. There are vines that you can watch grow in front of you. These vines are brutal and not just a little spooky. They have overtaken the area underneath the solar panels where my sunflowers and bougainvillea were happily getting bigger and better. The bougainvilleas are tightly wrapped in vines but I manage to save about a dozen. The sunflowers have not faired well. The vines have lifted every one of them out of their earth bags and broke them into pieces and dragged them off. I take the machete to the murdering swine. It’s a futile gesture as they immediately regroup. It’s going to be a long battle.

Mausetrappe has certainly missed us. We locked her out when we were away and constructed a temporary enclosed house that we attached to the cat flap. We couldn’t take the risk of coming home to large piles of rotting mouse bits. She has forgiven us and spends a great deal of time clingingly wrapped around our feet. The chickens remain dumb and ugly. Three have full sets of tail feathers now but Sister Bland remains stubbornly bare arsed. Despite the lack of any signs of intelligence they do have their lucky moments. The cutter ants raided their chicken coop and made off with most of their food. There was a long line of ants bearing huge loads of grain headed directly into the jungle. Exactly where all four chickens were waiting . Chicken feed with bonus ants. They scoffed the lot.

Dragon flies are appearing. Brightly coloured and often in pairs attached in a push-me-pull-you copulation flight pattern. The bright day-glo lizards have returned and dart around the bush at great speed. The dogs here are experts at catching them. It’s pretty much their go-to snack.

So life has returned to a somewhat normal state of affairs if such a thing exists here. The World Cup ended up in France of all places and won’t be coming home anytime soon. Hose pipes are banned throughout the UK and surprise surprise we are expecting more rain. The pool is our sanctuary and still worth the constant attention it demands. We are fully stocked with Marmite and also have the added bliss of a fridge filled with proper mouth punching Cheddar cheese in which we indulge with dollops of original Branston pickle. Now that’s paradise for ya.

Jungle Journal

AMLO and Orchids

July 6, 2018
by Beave

Count down to the big rains has started. Up to now it has been a question of preparation, which is rapidly morphing into a matter of necessity. Our well is dry. We have had a number of nights where the rains have come for a while but the ground is soaking it all up greedily and there appears to be little effect on the water table. Most of the Tinacos are full so we have a few weeks grace. If the rains hit the mountains we will be good but for now our 20M well is not quite deep enough and the rivers, streams and well remain stubbornly water free.

Friends arrive from Baja on their honeymoon! Surprisingly it costs many times more in airfare from Baja Mexico than from just about anywhere in the USA. Cheaper to fly to Hawaii but we have an epic romantic destination here made even more wondrous by the earth shifting on it’s axis and allowing England to win a World Cup penalty shoot out. Best honeymoon ever!

The longest day is behind us and the sun is moving along the sky nicely. Just before sun drops we have about 10 minutes of a strange and slightly surreal sepia glow that surrounds us. It’s like someone puts a filter lens over your eyes. It’s pretty as hell but quite odd.

Jayne has a new toy. There is an inexplicable presence of giraffes in Mexico. The Mexican giraffe is not something I have heard of but there are countless carvings and beaded art crafts and paintings of giraffes offered at every corner here. There are inflatable giraffes , giraffe whistles, giraffe T shirts and most recently seen puppet giraffes sold at traffic lights. Not a clue why. Well our man found a lump of wood and made a slightly terrifying giraffe shaped object . Jayne loves it. She is very happy.

Our remaining chickens are getting larger and their new tail feathers are thankfully starting to cover their naked bums. Yes our remaining chickens. Good news is that Four out of Five are still with us. Sister Flowers (our first casualty) waited only a few days before going AWOL. She is probably in a snake or an Eagle. Sister Bricklebank did the walk of shame home after disappearing for a night or two. We had written her off too so there is an outside chance Sister Flowers will return but it’s unlikely.

Hummingbirds are all around us these past weeks. They announce their arrival with a loud buzz of invisibly fast wings. Although always somewhere close by the Summer flowers seem to be attracting them out in large numbers. They seems to be attracted to us whenever we use the outdoor shower where we get to watch them close up. Most of them are tiny but some surprisingly large. I managed to rescue a big one that was trapped in a friend’s house in town. Armed with a bar stool and a towel I wrestled the beast to the ground and set it free.

Humidity and much ginger puddling is requiring much rehydration. Yes a few beers during the football but mainly over carbonated flavoured water in impressive amounts. It’s essential to life. There are many choices available and just about every shop displays endless coloured bottles of chilled fluids to tempt you. Most are acceptable and a few actually rather good but there is always one sneaky option that will get you if you don’t pay attention. Carbonated water with a hint of cucumber. It’s high quality labeling and transparent bottle showing cold clear fizzy liquid with a touch of delicious cucumber suggests instant refreshment . You gulp the stuff down over a dry throat and get hit hard with an acrid aftertaste of feet and bile. Don’t do it. It’s very very bad.

My mates have now completed the first iteration of the Temple for Peace at the Mandela festival in the Netherlands. Huge success. It’s not been easy to be here while this has been in progress. Have missed the process of pain and achievement that projects of this size give you. These crazy buggers have pulled off something quite remarkable considering the time and budget restraints they had. Kudos. Next time … maybe.

Our orchids are sprouting some green stuff everywhere but so far no flowers. Our efforts are not as successful as our friend in town who has been nurturing her orchids in a proper way and has been rewarded with chocolate orchid flowers. Each flower does indeed give off a strong aroma of Maltesers (other brand honeycomb chocolate treats available). She gifts us a load to see if we kill them. Our orchid nurturing needs a bit of work.

We have helped our friends do some projects on their new house while they were away in California. It’s gone rather well and they now have rustic railings throughout the property, a huge roof Palapa and a spiral staircase leading up to it. We are very happy how this has all worked out and even better so are they. We are delighted recipients of many gifts of gratitude , none more appreciated than a proper slap up feed at a proper posh French restaurant that we have lusted over but never fully indulged in . That well fed glow of being spoilt by perfectly executed food and wine stayed with us for days.

Of all our fabulous imported gifts my new amazing extendable hose pipe was a pretty close second to the French grub …. And close on its heels in the gratitude stakes was the frog pontoon bridge. Yes that is a real thing. The mini rains arrive again and kick off another loudly pornographic frog orgy . The aftermath is much less barbaric than before and we think that is partly due to the installation of the floaty froggy bridge thing, which allows the frogs a means of escape from the pool. Not being the brightest of creatures I had to rescue about half a dozen living frogs and remove a corpse or two but nothing like the previous after party. There was even one daft frog that was stuck under the pontoon bridge all day. He escaped back into the pool and was removed in the traditional way. All in all a well tested and effective frog rescue device.

Mangoes bloody mangoes. We have about a million of them. Friends have added to our own modest collection with large buckets full. The mango trees are dropping the things by the ton. The miniscule but totally irritating fruit flies are gathering and something must be done. I spend a messy few hours on the balcony attacking an over spilling bin of them. I create a mass of compost and sticky stones and a surprising small amount of mango flesh. It is enough to create a gallon of mango puree and a very tasty mango and apple chutney. Now if only we could find some decent cheese to go with it ….

An important day arrives. It’s the most important day politically in Mexico in living memory. It’s Election Day. There is one leftish wing candidate representing anti-corruption, anti-Trump, for the people & redistribution of wealth and openly against the big business/cartels that have ruled Mexico for 70 years. Andrés Manuel López Obrador or AMLO as he is known could change things here significantly. Bit like if Bernie Sanders had been allowed to win in the USA. He is widely tipped to win but has been here before and has at least two elections taken from him. In the last few weeks 120 of his colleagues have been murdered. There is a strong mood of opportunity to make a real change and the feeling that if democracy is not allowed to run its course this time there will be revolution. There is a large army presence around us and heavily armored road blocks outside of town. It’s a serious business. We stock up and keep our heads down.

There is a bizarre and ineffective law in Mexico that dictates before and during any political Election no alcohol can be sold or purchased. The bars and most of the restaurants in town are shut for the whole weekend. The World Cup is forgotten… till Monday when we play Brazil. We have a large group of friends over and we spend Election Day by the pool with supplies bought on Friday.

Morning arrives with the news that AMLO is the new Mexican president by a landslide. The feared violent backlash has not swept the country and we can all safely watch poor Naymar suffer great pain and agony tripping over daisies for Brazil and accept the inevitable as Mexico leaves the World Cup. Timing could not have been better as the mood of celebration after the election victory overrides everything. “ At least we won the big one!”

The mood for us is taken down a peg or three by the news that a friend of ours died in the night. Flavio was real character in the town and everyone who has spent time here knows him. He was 29 years old and died of an alcohol-induced heart attack. We attend a very emotional sunset remembrance ceremony for him at the place on the beach where he waited tables. Probably the worst waiter ever but a really welcoming young man with a beautiful heart. We will all miss him.

Jungle Journal

Spider Eyes and a Chicken Nunnery

June 22, 2018
by Beave

So I’ve been banging on about the rains coming for weeks and they finally arrive early and in style. Last night was the second night of rain. We have spent a very sedate day sweating and both recovering from my man flu. We mostly watched Netflix and waited for sleep to take us. No rush. The nightly chorus of tin whistle bugs is done and at midnight we drift off. At 1 am I am awake. The jungle is in instant shadow as the whole sky lights up in flashes. It’s chucking it down. Real tropical rain. The roof is holding up well and the ground is soaking it all in (for now) so there is little to worry about. Then the frogs kick off.

Considering how dry and water free it has been up to this point it is illogical in the extreme that all of a sudden a few hours of rain can create all the frogs. Where have they all suddenly come from?? I can’t count how many but the noise is deafening. Can’t hear the rain for them. I spend the next 4 hours in my man flu misery reading and listening. Amongst many others I identify a “base cello’ frog, a “scooter with a bad battery trying to start” frog and a particularly irritating “everything is hilarious and I’ve just huffed some helium” frog. The rains reduce by 5 am and my book is finished. The frogs care not and are still having a good old sing. I pass out.

The frog orgy has left without cleaning up. The evidence is everywhere. Frog and toad spawn had filled the previously dried up jungle pond. The sight of the swimming pool is shocking. There are about two dozen large frogs in there. I manage to rescue the few survivors and then start the body count. I fish them out of the pool and arrange them on a rock for curiosity purposes. It’s carnage.

I arrange the dead frogs on a rock beside the pool and return to the tree house. We are somewhat surprised by a high pitched scream. The local pool company has turned up for a visit and the girl who is examining the pool has just discovered my frog rock display. She is loudly unimpressed. Her colleague is highly entertained.

Curiously this whole frog rave lasted only two nights. They are still out there being irritatingly loud but this is an after party crowd. They now sound like clowns with bike horns and give it their all for about 20 minutes then shut up for an hour… then start again. It’s better than it was….

We now have lots of water. The well is filling up again (just in time), we have three out of five full tinacos, the pool level has improved, all the plants and herbs are thoroughly watered and the solar panels are washed. These are all good things.

Last week we wondered why our solar batteries were low. A brief examination of the panels showed that in just over a week the entire solar array had acquired a thick coating of twigs, leaves and muck from the shedding trees. How we had any power at all was a mystery. As our ladder was being used elsewhere an enthusiastic, brave and acrobatic friend who was visiting climbed up with broom and removed all the crap. Battery power renewed in no time. It was on our list of maintenance jobs to do this regularly but now there is no need. The rains have polished them to a sunbeam friendly gleam.

It’s time for planting stuff out. We have bougainvilleas to place on the fence line. Also a spontaneous planting of sunflower seeds has produced a dozen or so competing shoots that need a home. We have collected orchids in dormant state and tied them to trees. Theoretically these will suck up the moisture in the air and flower in a month or two.

I have had a nagging request for some time. Someone wants chickens. The opportunity presents itself when we get a call informing us that a local vet-student has chickens to rehouse. Our friends are bringing her and her family over to meet us on Friday… with chickens. I spend a day building a chicken nunnery tractor. A nunnery because it will NOT be housing any bloody roosters. Sorry girls. The purpose of the tractor element is to allow the chickens to eat all the scrub and insects underneath their home and then we move it along. In this way the jungle floor is fertilized and cleaned progressively and the chickens are safe, dry, fed and producing eggs. Chicken safety out here is something we need to understand better. Pretty much everything eats chickens. Eagles, snakes, jaguar, ocelots, us. They are famously delicious. Have to see how that turns out. The process of building all day in a ginger puddle has left me exhausted. I have been fooled by a few cooling showers and protective afternoon clouds and managed to get dehydrated.

I recover with pints of homemade Jamaica (pronounced “hamica”), AKA cold hibiscus tea, which is a red plant base that we boil up to make a concentrated syrup. Added to a heap of water and ice with lime juice it is as refreshing a thing as we have found. There is an endless jug of the stuff in the fridge.

My recovery is somewhat disturbed by the sound of the cat fighting with one big fat cicada type bug. It’s the ones that make all the racket at night fall. Now they are loud enough half a mile away but having one being chewed by a cat a few feet away is deafening. I drag myself up and grab a cloth. My first attempt at rescue only manages to scare it into a limping flight with its one remaining good wing as it attaches itself to the window screen. It’s bigger than I thought. A good handful. I make my move but it’s too quick and noisily collides with my face and disappears in silence. It’s nowhere to be seen. Mausetrappe and I look at each other in confusion. I feel a scratching sensation and am then startled out my wits by a massive noise in my ear! The little sod was hiding on the back of my neck!! I grab him and throw him hard onto the floor. The cat pounces and diverts the thing under the sink. He is silent again. Not for long. The cat gets him in her mouth. The sound is unbelievable. I grab him. My whole hand is vibrating wildly as it screams. On the balcony I shake the cloth in my hand and I see him shoot directly upwards into the trees. Gone. It’s raining and very dark. Around me there are slowly moving majestic lights. The fireflies are back!!

Mango season is upon us. I was put off mangos by spending a lot of time in Montreal. There was a phase of putting mangos on everything. It was trendy to have eggs and bacon with a lump of mango. Bugger that! I am , however, seduced by the laden local mango trees. Each mature tree produces up to 250 kg a season. We had to consider that when looking at land with a dozen mango trees. Thats literally tons of mangoes to deal with. The little ones taste better than the big ones.

Another welcome return is that of the toilet paper butterfly. This is unlikely to be the scientific name but they can best be described as a lump of toilet paper floating around in the wind. They are bright white and huge. The wings are far too big to be efficient so they kinda flop around randomly and somehow stay in the air. Inelegant but stunning to watch.

The chickens arrive. They are an ugly bunch. Dirty brown with bare arses. Tail feathers are optional we discover. The chicken nunnery is placed outside our balcony so we can keep them under review for the first few weeks. The ground is uneven so we create a rockery around the nunnery to discourage beasts from getting in. The chickens are installed and we decide to keep them locked in for a day or two so they learn this is where they live. Not necessary. Despite the door being left open all day the chickens don’t move from their luxurious perches in the shade. We learn that organic free-range chickens are mainly conceptual. Despite acres of lovely range to be free upon most chickens prefer to stay inside and view the outside from the inside. Despite being agoraphobic & antisocial our five chickens appear happy enough. I have decided to name our nunnery inmates. Sister Kwafi, Sister Pybus, Sister Bricklebank, Sister Allenby & Sister Bland. Any comparison with anyone with similar names is entirely deliberate. Eggs are in our future.

There have been a few nights now of heavy to very heavy rains. In retrospect many things have indicated rains were coming. The lime trees started to bear fruit again and we found a heap of bananas appearing the week before the rains came. We found a tomato growing wild next to the house, the last flower on the vanilla orchid appeared and was pollinated and the roof got fixed, all the very day before the rains came.

The ground is alive with bright glowing red beetles. We spend some hours at the waterfall pools and they are everywhere. Individually they are fascinating but they have a trick. They gang together and make balls of themselves. A bright red shape the size of a golf ball. I have no idea why. It doesn’t seem an efficient love in and there is no feeding frenzy going on. See how long they last. They are harmless and very, very pretty.

There is a phenomena that I was convinced was fake news. If you shine a torch or headlight at a certain angle into the jungle thousands of tiny glowing lights reflect back at you. Every one of these lights is a spider looking back at you. Well I had these lights shown to me a few times but refused to believe the spider story. This was until the tinaco above our tree house sprang a leak and I needed to change out a fitting immediately and the sun was setting. It’s not something you would chose to do without daylight but I had no choice. On the way up the hill my headlight caught a mass of reflections, which I ignored until the tinaco was fixed. On the way down the hill in the dark I decided to explore these tiny lights close up. Unbelievably its true. I got close enough to confirm that the closest dozen lights were indeed spider eyes reflecting back at me. They were only tiny spiders but they shone like diamonds. Spooky.

And with the rain comes the crabs. It’s a famously strange and wonderful sight here in Nayarit to see hundreds of thousands of large pink crabs heading a kilometer for the sea after hibernation all year. If you are in the way it’s described as biblical. There is no avoiding them! We have avoided them as we are just far enough away from the sea. Just. The run to the ocean is over now but the bodies of those that didn’t quite make it are everywhere.

The bugs have changed again this month. We had weeks of tiny little buggers that felt like grains of sand when you caught them trying to nibble on you. More recently there is a medium sized loudly buzzing night time arrival. It’s a good job we have the nets on the bed. You hear them first and then see them head butting the fabric screen loudly. It’s impossible to sleep with these antics so I have taken to punching them off the net. They cope with this tactic rather well. Despite getting a full knuckle punch in their face they come back at you! They have heavy armor that looks like a nutshell. It can take two or three well placed punches to put off a “nut bug”. The cat is far more efficient and crunches them loudly and leaves them in a pile for me.

The Summer Solstice is upon us. The longest day. Tomorrow in the UK Christmas cards start appearing in the shops. It is also the anniversary of the burning of an effigy on Baker Beach in San Francisco over 30 years ago from which the Burning Man event evolved. One of the founders of the event died recently and there is a worldwide acknowledgement of gratitude for the connections this event created. My life would certainly be very different if those guys hadn’t decided to burn something on a beach that day. So to mark the occasion we gather with friends both new and old and knock up a “palm man”. We collect mango margaritas and head to the beach. It was all rather beautiful.

The rains have held off now for a week. What appeared to be the rainy season coming early was actually the back end of Hurricane Bud. The first of the season. The real rainy season is due soon enough. We are preparing slowly.

There is no doubt that Mexico is now a great footballing nation. It only takes a single goal but timing is everything. We watch this goal live from our friend’s restaurant packed with locals. We also endure an hour of waiting for the Germans to equalise but incredibly it doesn’t happen !! Torture to ecstasy. The place goes nuts. Moscow will be out of tequila in the morning. We have the might of glorious South Korea next. Despite the dull as ditch water England performance against Tunisia Jayne’s footballing needs are satisfied. We are, however, asking ourselves if getting up at 6 am on Sunday to watch England v Panama is worth the effort… probably.

Jungle Journal

Ginger Puddles

June 5, 2018
by Beave

It’s all getting very different. The tropics have two seasons. Wet and dry. Right now it’s absolutely dry with the exception of the air, which holds a consistent 30-degree heat and manages well over 80% humidity most of the time. By the afternoon it is pretty much impossible to move. I am effectively a ginger puddle from 2pm. Every day.

The light fades down at around 8.30pm as the sun hits the ocean. In the past couple of weeks full volume creatures accompany this event. These tiny bugs are the sound of the wet season rains coming to turn our dust into mud. The rain is due about 20 days after they start we are told. It kicks off as a kind of throat singing and morphs into the noise that a couple of dozen three year olds would make with a crate of tin whistles. It’s loud and tuneless. There is no other option but to stop and wonder how something so small can create such a bloody racket. The noise travels for miles and ends as abruptly as it begins when the dark sets in.

There has been a few recent Coatis sightings. They have been using their properly fingered hands to open sealed containers and scoff or re-distribute anything remotely edible they find in the outdoor kitchen. We have been tidying up after them for weeks now. These monkey/bear/raccoon type creatures are fearless and we now know why. The local dog packs chase them up to the very top of the tallest trees but they had a surprise when they cornered one last week. One particularly terrorized Coatis decided that enough was enough and deployed its claws. One dog ended up with a significant hole in its neck and poor old Tripod has had his face horrifically rearranged. How these scratty dogs heal so fast from what are no doubt serious injuries continues to impress. We won’t be cornering a nice cute Coatis anytime soon.

Jayne’s mother has not survived the journey from the UK well. Despite feeding her daily with the requisite flour and keeping her in the fridge there was not enough feedback to justify the effort. So we said goodbye and started another one. Sourdough bread is a process. New mother has faired better. The yeast in the air here has produced what has turned out to be a far more useful substance which has produced, with some effort, a pretty impressive and delicious loaf.

Lulled into a false sense of security we tried to reproduce the event. Despite hours sitting beside the outside oven and fantasizing about warm sourdough slices dripping in butter and marmite it was not to be. Our first attempt turned out to be a Frisbee shaped brick of solid dough. Even the dog wouldn’t touch it. Not to be put off we persevered. After further hours swatting bugs and staring through the oven door our second attempt appeared. It sort of defied description but a sourdough loaf it was not. It was more of an oversized hockey puck heavy weapon. It took a great deal of effort to throw it into the jungle. I’m sure it will be there for a very long time. Our bread making adventures are suspended. It’s not her mother’s fault apparently.

Ironically it was Mexican Mother’s Day (Thursday) and US/Canadian Mothers Day (Sunday) that very week. Our mother here remains well fed and refrigerated and ready for when the need for a marmite butty exceeds our reluctance to invest further hours staring at an oven. There is good bread in our future.

Big news. Our first pineapple crop is ready. Ok so it’s only one but it’s a start. Smells amazing.

My Spanish is coming along but way way too slowly. I understand most of what is said between Gringos and locals as this is a slower paced and more basic version of conversation. When two Mexicans add tequila and start an enthusiastic chat I’m lost in no time. This is a result of quite spectacular prevarication on my part. If there is any job that needs doing it takes priority over me spending time learning Spanish. Now this is very good for the ever ready composting loos, washing up and general house tidiness but vastly extends the time I can confidently and effectively converse with our growing number of Mexican friends. It’s so important. But here I am writing this blog about my need to learn Spanish rather than actually learning Spanish. Me bad.

Our good friends have bought a lovely house in the next town and we are helping them with getting the garden sorted out and overseeing some building work. I have always had great respect for my friends who are architects and structural engineers and always considered this an alternative path should I ever have the funds and motivation to re-train myself one day. What I have realized over the past weeks is that stress levels when building things for yourself is a different world that building things for someone else. What if something goes wrong? Are the boys doing everything right? What am I missing? It’s not my house! The responsibility! Thankfully all seems to be going very well and in a few days there will be a magnificent palapa on the roof to compliment all the new hand rails and neatly groomed garden. I will ask permission to publish some photos when it’s all done. Mightily relieved. We also get to nick their Wi-Fi whenever we go over so that has helped fuel our new habit of binge watching series on Netflix.

The Ceveceria (pub) has shut for the season. This is hard to take but our great friends who dedicate themselves to keep us all in pints deserve a break. It’s interesting to note the difference between a beer serving establishment and a pub. It’s all about community. The place we all get to know each other and meet up. The font of all knowledge and gossip. There is so much creatively, socially and economically that comes about from creating a space like this and drinking beer within it. That said we have to find an alternative social venue for the next few months. There are enough of us crazies around here that intend to sweat out the rainy season. We decide to have a pool party while we work it out.

So the pool finally becomes more than a sanctuary for one overheated ginger person. Many many friends arrive and after a very long and successful night it is clear that we need to continue to make the effort socially. It’s so worth it.

When a bunch of us get together there are recurring topics that arise. Real Estate is one of them. Our own experience in going through the performance and drama that is buying property in Mexico makes us think we know a little bit about it. In truth we know a lot less that we think we do. It’s an extraordinarily complex process and there are so many trips and hazards on the way that it takes a great deal of effort and good fortune to get through unscathed. We have been asked by a number of people to help them get through it all and the more we learn the more we need to. Finding out who owns the land (Ejido land or otherwise) and what you can officially do with it should you be able to buy it , and what permissions you need and if a great bleeding highway will be built right next to it are all pretty much a mission to find out.

There is a large Cuota Toll highway scheduled to be completed between Guadalajara and Puerto Vallarta over the next few years. We were told about this a year ago and it was a real consideration for us when we looked at buying our land here. By some good luck and slight of hand we acquired the GPS coordinates showing exactly where the road is planned to be. Many of the local estate agents don’t have that information.

The highway is scheduled to cut through the bird sanctuary and many miles of protected forest and jungle. It will skim past the entrance to our land about 200m away. The construction will require a 60m wide corridor being cut through unique and irreplaceable natural environment. It is a travesty ecologically but this is Mexico. Payments have allegedly been made. Money has allegedly been washed clean. Politicians have allegedly been bought.

In practice the road will be too expensive for most people to use. It costs at least a day’s wages to use the road, which saves between 2, and 3 hours driving compared to the alternative free road that exists now (the infamous route 200). There will be tourists and the wealthy, some buses and a few trucks using it but few others. This is the same with other Cuota (toll roads) in Mexico. We have used them and there is practically no other traffic on them. You can travel for many miles and not see another vehicle in either direction. Massive waste of money and resources.

The government has paid off the compulsory land purchases already so much of the money has already been spent. Lots of locals with new pick up trucks. The road is already built up to about 40 miles away. The construction crews are due to arrive with us in a year or so. It’s pretty much a done deal but there is a chance of stopping the route through the protected jungle. It’s not a big chance but it’s a chance.

The current government in Mexico is right wing and the last two elections have ended controversially. We are told that the first time they got into power they did not get the majority vote but declared themselves the winners and that was it. The last election the vote count was called off at midnight when they were slightly in the lead and all other votes were not officially counted. If they had been they would not be in power. The next election is next month. The opposition party is standing on an anti-corruption ticket and want to make Mexico “work for the many not the few.” If they get in they will have a much more sympathetic ear and could overturn decisions made where corruption is proved. Lets see what happens.

Leave No Trace : Leave Art . My mantra for the past few years. Entire civilizations have come and gone and left no other history except their art for us to judge them by. Art has arrived!! We have been blessed with the arrival of mural artists who have transformed our orange block and inspired me take brush in hand and practice. If you are inspired in any way to leave us some art in any form then please get in touch.

Our roof has been a worry for some time. It looks pretty and functional from the inside but the outside is buggered. It has had numerous trees and plants growing out of a thick layer of compost that the palm leaves that were installed 8 years ago have now turned into. When it rains there is a mad rush to cover vulnerable areas of stuff with plastic and deploy buckets to divert and capture the brown water that seeps through the compost. It’s not a good thing. We need a new roof.

Budget constraints and our reluctance to move out of our home for a week or two have lead to a compromise. We have a large 6M x 9M sheet of industrial plastic, a roll of wire and 40 huge palms leaves. In the hands of our man, his Dad, his son and his mate this is sufficient to create a waterproof roof in under 3 hours. I attempt to help but end up covered in ancient compost to the amusement of all. I helpfully pass around a few beers and brush away the fall out. We have a functional roof!!

Mexican man flu has descended. I again have a near fatal dose and am suffering in peaceful silence and equanimity. Jayne has a very mild dose of girl flu which is best cured by activity such as cooking and caring for me. This makes her very happy. I might yet survive.

It’s 3 am and I wake up in my ginger puddle of man flu. It’s raining hard. First time in over 6 months. I get up from my sick bed and wobble onto the balcony and get instantly very wet and cold. I return to my damp warm bed. The roof is holding up. I don’t have the energy to be buggering about with buckets and am very grateful. Mausetrappe makes a loud and dramatic entrance. She is entirely unimpressed with whatever this is. We remember that she is probably less than 10 months old so won’t remember rain and certainly not the heavy, cold, get you wet instantly stuff. She decides that my puddle is better place to be and settles in for the night.

Jungle Journal

La Cucaracha….

May 19, 2018
by Beave

It is becoming increasingly apparent that we need to know more about the birds and the folk who dedicate their lives and purses chasing around the world looking at them. It just happens to be World Migratory Bird day this past weekend and the San Pancho birder/twitcher community is having an event at a local bar, which we agree is worth the entrance fee to attend. The event is under attended which gives us the chance to properly meet the head of the local bird watching company and his family. He has been here forever and knows pretty much everything there is to know on the subject. He is probably the foremost expert on birds & their habitats in this region.

We learn a great deal. It turns out this whole area is unique and a very attractive prospect for the bird friendly. It’s a huge draw for many tourists. They are predominantly retired, in the higher budget bracket and from Canada and theUSA. The issues we need to look at will be to cater for older guests who may be used to room service and a touch more luxury than we currently offer. Transport over the rivers during rainy season will also be a challenge.

Another bonus for not having a large crowd at the event is that our odds of winning a prize in the raffle are greatly improved. We leave the event much wiser and with a free night in a Hotel in Sayulita and a free brunch for two (endless Mimosas included) at the Polo Club when it reopens for lunch in December.

One of our newly met friends is a girl from France who has been employed by the Polo Club this year to conduct environmental impact assessment and recommend actions. The Polo club has bought up over 250 hectares of land. That is a huge chunk of San Pancho. They have an immense and beautifully designed and executed club house, restaurants, beach club and stables. It’s vast and very very well funded. I have never seen a game of Polo up close and have never been dressed well enough to be let into the Polo Club so we arrange to visit early the next morning to take a bird watching tour there and check the place out. We are in a small group who are clearly used to these things by the size of their camera lenses and telescopic viewing contraptions. We are given the task of logging sightings for an International Survey taking place simultaneously on every continent. There are, unsurprisingly, many types and numerous quantities of tropical birds. We recognize all of them from our land. Our host has the skill to be able to identify the species and number of birds we are going to see from the song/calls. It’s an impressive skill.

We are on a path through the foresty jungle and come across a gathering area where art has been installed. There are faces crafted onto huge rocks and stand alone sculptures. Smaller rocks in the shape of body forms and obscure natural creations which give the whole place a magical vibe. I study the art while the others study the birds. This is inspiring. They are all formed by shaping clay-stone around a wire-wood cage-frame . It’s simple but very effective. I would love to have this sort of art throughout our land. Would be great thing to do. Need to learn more about the process. Our French friend tells me she will put us onto the local artists. We “borrow” a few cuttings of yellow bamboo from beside the Polo field and head back enthused by the art and the potential to introduce our bird population to more people. If we can attract a younger, slightly more adventurous and less needy type of bird loving guest then that would be perfect.

Our needy pool has been given a good amount of attention. The pool has been considered a luxury bonus item for months so has been slightly neglected despite being constantly attention seeking. Things are changing fast. The humidity is now 80% plus and rising by the afternoon. The pool will soon become essential for ginger life. The only place to cool off. We bite a further bullet and pay the money to have the guy who has fixed pools for 8 years to come and banish the stubborn green that all the chlorine we can find will not shift. In 24 hours the pool is transformed. It looks like a real actual proper posh whistle clean pool! Already it’s getting well used. Even our delicate Calgary princess has approved the balmy warm water temperature and is now a regular feature bobbing about on some inflatable ice cream device.

We are visited by friends from town for lunch who generously bring us a box of crispy slices of bacon. It is well understood that bacon improves most things. In this case it’s task is to improve a bottle of tequila and limes that they have also brought for us. We have pre-lunch first courses of shots of tequila, followed by lime and then bacon to finish. We discovered in a very short time that bacon gets you drunk ! Who knew ??

Mausetrappe has been, as usual, very generous. Mice are a very regular gift and sometimes even whole ones. More recently there have been regular piles of cockroaches (cucurachas) left as morning offerings. They are harder to deal with as cockroaches have a bizzare play dead feature. They look pretty dead, upside down and motionless on their backs in a pile of fluff and other bugs until you try and pick them up. They then spring to life and try to escape. It’s a game. There have also been a few too many cockroach sightings for us around the kitchen sink. We dismantle the still slightly sticky kitchen worktop, clean everything and cover it with vinyl. We deploy anti-bug spray in all the places. Next morning I get to play the alive or dead? game with 18 (we counted) full size upside down blighters spread around the place. The cat had clearly lost interest in gathering them in a pile for me. Problem solved.

So we have officially become local media sluts. Our friends who dined with us recently have put us as lead feature in the world famous San Pancho Life newsletter. We can hardly walk down the street anymore. Fame is such a sweet burden.

We are now even more officially Mexican. The local hospital is free for Mexican residents as long as we are registered for Seguro Popular which is their equivalent free at point of service health system. It includes all medication & treatment and is impressive considering the alternative on the other side of the wall. The registration lasts till 2021 and involves the correct amount of pedantic messing about, creative administration and flirting with large ladies. We managed it. This is a main benefit of our temporary residency.

Our residence cards runs out in September when we reapply for a further 3 years which is pretty much guaranteed to go through smoothly. We then get the right to be full Mexican citizens. This has a number of financial benefits but also means we cannot own a vehicle that is registered outside of Mexico. So this might be a touch premature but if anyone would like a well loved 1989 Chevy Van delivered around September 2022 we can offer you a very good price.

It has been noted that a project is not a project till someone gets a tattoo. That has certainly been true of some that we have done. We weren’t expecting it here. We have had a Welshman in a hammock for a few days here and there. He sometimes finds his way home and loves it out here. He is, amongst many, a fan of our logo. Our local pub (Ceveceria) is a great meeting spot and we introduce him to the owner and his lovely assistant. She is an artist that has begun a mural on our orange block and has started hand poked tattooing recently. Our Welshman is very easily persuaded to meet up with her after a surf and get a hand poked tattoo of our logo on his leg. We are now a proper project apparently.

Strange times. The local tax authority has conducted large scale raids on Sayulita and San Pancho. They have entered businesses and shut them down with immediate effect. Lots of them. We drive down town to check it out. The local Hostel had its guests chucked out and shut down. A clothes shop, a hardware store and many cafes and restaurants have large stickers on their very locked up and closed front doors. Some of these places are of significant size and reputation. The sticker tells us that there has been some financial or administrative obligation that has not been met and the business is closed. These businesses are owned by well known locals, many of them Mexican, who have been here for many years and all strongly and loudly claim to have paid all their taxes. It’s not clear what the story is yet. It could be the authorities are doing an end of season shake down on businesses that they think should be paying more taxes. It’s certainly got people’s attention. There is a strong rumour that all these businesses use the same accountant and he has failed to submit proper accounts on time for all of them. Wouldn’t want to be that guy right now.

The exodus continues. More of our friends are heading North and elsewhere to avoid the impending humidity. We are the poor neighbours they are leaving behind and the focus of much welcome generosity. As folk clear out their houses for the great escape we get all the stuff they no longer need! Chairs, art , house fixings, and food.

We have had a number of friends invite us to dinner. This is a rare treat and we have certainly taken very grateful advantage. I’ve had more meat and decent wine in the last few weeks than I can remember.

I‘m a great fan of spreading out meat into small amounts that fit well into a taco. It uses less of the stuff and makes for great eats. There is, however, for me, no substitute for a hunk of meat that you chew on. It’s not a common thing here and usually offered at places that we don’t currently have the budget for. This is something my face has missed but my body has not. Digesting large amounts of meat is not something I’m great at anymore. Not going to stop trying when I get the chance. The wine here is a mixed bag price & quality wise. In my previous life I became a fussy arse when wine was concerned. I spent time in France in the vineyards and brought back special batches of extraordinary unique nectar for my horribly unappreciative mates to chug down. I saved all the best wines and refused to drink most of the “everyday” bottles. I got on my own nerves. Now with choice and budget limited I have modified my judgments accordingly. We have a self imposed 150 peso a bottle limit . I did have someone buy us a decent Pinot Noir in a local restaurant recently and it was splendid beyond description… it did take me back. I have not lost all my pretentions just yet.

The pub closes soon. Our dear mates are having a well earned break to pulling pints before heading up to Portland. What are we to do??!! Before panic sets in we must help these guys out and make sure they aren’t left with any stock. I am in training to help them as much as I can. Only two weeks of pints in San Pancho left… ok slight panic. Might have to look at opening our exclusive bar before the footy starts. Jayne is so excited.

Jungle Journal

Ayahuasca Custard

May 9, 2018
by Beave

Vanilla Orchids….. not the easiest thing to propagate. Having climbed the Copomo tree next to our balcony brandishing a the pool cleaning rod to make sure the host vine is heading upwards a certain way then downwards a certain way we wait. Months later we spot the first buds and then flowers. Each flower lasts but one day. During that time it relies on a particularly rare type of Mexican bee to happen across it and pollinate. No pressure. This is far from a certain event. To increase the odds of vanilla pods exponentially we have adopted the role of surrogate bees and have been sexing orchids. Up a ladder with a toothpick may not be obviously sexy but is apparently effective. We pollinate our first two flowers. There are buds for many more so we will be up a ladder with toothpicks doing all the sex for some time. In 6 months we may have vanilla pods . It’s a long and delicate process. How do we ever get enough of the stuff for ice cream ….or custard ….??

Took the time to get beyond the break and float on my back in the Pacific watching birds and sky and sun. It is remarkable and beautiful and humbling. The sea here is so powerful and yet today tranquil and supportive. If I keep air in my lungs I rest on top of the building waves with no effort. I close my eyes and consider taking a floating nap. Sure it wouldn’t last long but it’s entirely possible. Need to do more of this. Floating meditation is the way forward.

The moon is full, the bar is open, the food is cooking splendidly and our guests arrive. All goes in a very relaxed and enjoyable way. Good food, too much wine and a moonlit jungle with the now compulsory black light scorpion hunt. We are now recovering with a heap of over catered left overs, more beer than we started with, an amount of actual cash and enough wine to keep us out of trouble for the next week. There is the satisfaction of a very pleasant evening and the knowing we can cater at a high level for up to dozen people without much drama. We are told that there will be a write up on the night’s activities in the next edition of the San Pancho Life newsletter. This is certainly another potential thing to do to earn a crust when the season starts again.

Jungle wake ups are slow. There is a routine of moving towards the kettle and creating tea while showering that is now achievable with limited brain cell activity and only one eye open. A bucket of tea brings the synapses to life and my mind fills with the strangest of priorities. Do we have water flowing? Is there air in the tires? Any petrol in the tanks? Water, air and fuel. I’m becoming worryingly practical.

The sun is moving overhead and mornings are later and evening stretching out further and further. The solar panels catch sun very differently these past few weeks. Days are getting hotter and the humidity turns the air three times thicker every afternoon. Warm thick air to breathe for the next three or four months. Got to get that needy pool in good order. It saved us many times last year.

My buddies are building a temple on a lake in Netherlands. They want us to join them. It’s the first iteration of the Temple for Peace that we spent so many months evolving last year. Would love to be there to share the load and the laughs. I have foregone the delights of Kiwiburn and Afrikaburn this year and don’t see us making Nowhere, Nest or Burning Man either. I’m not too sad about that as this new adventure requires a different mind set. Over more than a dozen years I have devoted energy, love, time and cash to create the space for some magnificent art. We have chosen crazy places in many countries to build cities, temples, huge scale propane delivery systems, exhibition spaces, large theme camps and much more. With few exceptions these creations were burnt to the ground or dismantled within a week. I have learnt to let go. I’m very good at it, I’ve had a lot of practice. Our project here is different. I’m letting go of letting go… slowly.

Dogs for security. Everyone tells us we need dogs for security. It certainly focuses the mind at night when a pack of dogs starts barking at you. None of them will bite you and most are scared off by a good stare but it’s definitely a deterrent. Tripod is next to bloody useless. He is properly attention seeking and has well practiced “poor hungry me” eyes. The tart will flirt with anyone if he thinks there is food in it for him. We are sure he limps on alternating legs for effect. He turns up now and again and makes a good show barking excitedly at some confused armadillo that might have wandered by.

We have a fair chunk of land to protect so at the moment we are considering at least two (and probably more) large ugly dogs that look mean and sound horrible. They need to be self-reliant outdoor dogs that eat once a week and are protective of us and scare the be ‘Jesus out of anyone else. Tall order even for here. There are very many stray dogs here. A shameful amount. We have had a couple of slobbery candidates directed our way. We are looking for dogs that will thrive out here and do not need too much counseling. None has passed muster yet. The search continues…

The season change is now pretty dramatic. It’s hot. Flowers are bursting out everywhere but at the same time the leaves are falling from the trees. It’s like both Autumn & Spring have come at once. With the canopy thinning so dramatically we can see around us new places and all the birds and a lot further through the jungle. There is now a carpet of leaves drying to a crisp on the hot slippy dust. The palm oil coconuts rest amongst them like ball bearings. It’s a miracle we can stand up at the moment let alone walk around.

We recognize the growing need for the pool to be ready to escape to. The sand filter pump has been working hard fairly often (subject to sun on panels.) It’s the only thing we have that makes even a dent in our “Nano-carbon” batteries which sit happily at 96 % or more all day no matter what else we throw at them. Good job as they cost their weight in truffle oil. We are well serviced for power thank the goodness’s. The pool however is stubbornly cloudy. It’s significantly less dusty and the filter is slowly working but the chlorine fish needs filling and probably some other costly process will be necessary. It’s currently a darkening shade of green. More attention required. It has been foretold by wise folk that lawns and pools need more upkeep than wives. I have a very needy pool that’s for sure.

We bite the bullet and head to PV to collect some cheap tyres for the Razor. They took a lot of finding but are less than half price of anything else we can find. They are 6 ply and many times better than the ones we have broken. The Razor has been on chocks for many days and this has made us a lot less lazy. We don’t drive across the land now but walk. It is a good thing to get more in touch with the land. We notice a lot more nature and wildlife. And jobs that need doing….

We have been invited to a XV Quinseañera party. Our man has insisted we join his family there. His son is the boyfriend of the birthday girl and he has a very important role to play. It’s a very well organized event with lots of traditional happenings involved. In Mexico the age of 15 is considered a very important time for young girls. Families save for years to show off and give her and everyone they know the party of her life. It’s a “coming of age thing”. It is not uncommon for pregnancy and marriage to follow soon after. We arrive at the town square on time. The stage is set for a band and the whole town square is packed with tables decorated in burgundy and gold.

We wait for the families to arrive from their long catholic church ceremony. No one shows so we hide in the pub for an hour. On returning we are spotted and join our man’s mum and a gaggle of kids and family. Still almost all the tables are empty. The panicked looking girl arrives dressed in burgundy and gold. She is shadowed by an equally stressed looking Mum. Slowly oh so slowly the entire town turns up. The band starts. I am surprised the racket that a dozen guys on stage can make. It’s a strange mix of wailing vocals , trumpet, tuba and at least two trombones (played as trumpets) with other bashing things behind them. This is either bloody awful or the best thing ever. I decide to decide later which one.

The girl is looking less stressed now and performs a well practiced dance with a dozen boys all dressed in identical burgundy shirts. Her brother leads her and our man’s son is right up there too. There is a table laden with gifts. There are presentations of dolls identical to the girl dressed exactly as she is. Bit spooky. Flowers are thrown and caught and every male member of the family gets a dance with her. The band are enthusiastically belting out what has become clear is bloody awful music. By 11 pm the place is packed and more tables are shipped in. The endless free beer takes effect and the dance floor starts to fill with some rather entertaining sights. There is a tendency for the lardy in Mexico. It is now published by the WHO that Mexico has officially the lardiest population in the world. This is demonstrated by the happenings on the dance floor. A properly entertaining mix. Some sprightly older folk at least 80 years old (probably older) swing dancing perfectly and looking good. A number of rather large boys practically suffocating slightly traumatized looking girls and sort of jumping together on the spot as the band blares out. Most transfixing is the huge ladies who have in their grip some tiny looking Mexican men who cling on for dear life as they lurch around not entirely in time with the music (if that is actually possible). The finale is the presentation of the girls first “official” high heel shoes. A traditional gift from the father. A sort of permission and expectation go now and be a woman. She looks a bit too young to me but what do I know.

The fatted cow is distributed. We knew the cow as it was one from a nearby ranch that our man slaughtered and spent all day cooking over a wood fire. Rather good stuff. It is served with what is now my new favorite Mexican delight – “frijoles puerco”. It is beans and cheese and chorizo all mashed together properly and deliciously. There is also a bottle of Agave type liquor which the family and many other random onlookers encourage me to drink a lot of. It is a poor man’s tequila but given a good go is still effective. It is effective enough for me to distribute cow juice and beans and chorizo and cheese onto my white shirt in a “look at me” obvious way. Embarrassing. It is confirmed by everyone on our table that we are the only “gringos” non-Mexicans in the entire square of many hundreds of people. It’s OK they tell us. “We are all Mexicans here .” Despite the spiny head and foody shirt that makes us feel rather good. By now we are ready to leave the noises from the band far away and make our way home. Its only 12.30 and we are the first to leave. The young kids and oldest folk are just getting started. The party goes on without us till sunrise.

We have met a number of people who have spent time out here over the years. The most recent is a girl who we heard about many times. She lives in town and had her first baby just about when we arrived so it has taken this long for her to surface. She arrives with us unexpectedly on her horse. We show her around as she shows us around. We go up to the Selva Vista apartment where she spent many years. She is relieved and emotional (in a good way) as she sees what we have created. Those tears are the best endorsement we have had so far by a long way. Before she leaves she shows us the many things she planted before she left 4 years ago. There is the lychee tree and the passion fruit and to our surprise a now mature Ayahuasca vine right beside our Morning Glory.

The important issue of the World Cup has arisen. Much as we would like to see England squeeze past the might of Tunisia and Panama I am more interested how Mexico will do against Germany, South Korea and Sweden. One of the restaurants in town is talking about remaining open just for the tournament and showing three matches a day. That is a huge relief. Wouldn’t want Jayne to go without her precious football.