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Jungle Xmas & Thanksgiving-gate

  • December 24, 2018December 24, 2018
  • by Beave

It’s a few days after we land back from UK that we understand the extent of the changes that have happened since we were away.  In just a week there have been vast swaths of jungle completely destroyed by bulldozers and chain saw teams.  Bird sanctuary and Jaguar habitat gone forever.  The Auto-pista highway from Guadalajara to Puerto Vallarta has been spoken of for decades and  we were aware it was heading our way before we bought our land.  The reality now it’s here is sickening. The small village of Tiqueeleechi very close to us has had a 60M corridor of jungle ripped out of it.  We can hear the distant machinery and chainsaws every day from our tree house. 

We take a breath and a sharp machete and head out in the Razor to examine what’s happening close by.   We climb a hill about half a km from our gate. From the top  we can  see huge areas of trees grounded  and the yellow dirt where the highway will sit clearly visable.  It hurts to look at it. 

We take the Razor down rivers of mud where roads were only weeks ago and find total destruction. Trees laid everywhere and a huge mud super highway stretching for may kilometers  North. This is the direction they are coming from. To the South hectares of  jungle are already wounded and even more marked out for the heavy machinery to flatten.


Jungle completely wiped out

We approach a resting chainsaw crew who reassure us that they very much doubt the highway will be seen from our land but it’s only a guess and it doesn’t make the tragedy of this senseless destruction any easier to take.  The highway is a pay/toll road.  In Mexico they are only used by the wealthy or the bus companies selling premium tickets as they are too expensive.  Your average Mexican is not going to spend more than a day’s wages to make his trip from Guadalajara 2 hours quicker. They will take the old 200 death highway. This new highway is going to be empty, expensive and an environmental disaster like all the other toll roads we have used.  Too many people have been paid off so there is no stopping the thing now.  Too late for the new government to step in.

A previously beautiful remote jungle walk

The existing 200 highway continues to prove fatal.  Your average Mexican drives like a maniac. A bus carrying passengers to Guadalajara is run off the road by some idiot and rolls down into the jungle.  This takes place very close to us and is traumatizing for everyone who witnessed it.  The bus was destroyed and there were many fatalities and horrendous injuries.  Despite this there is still a frightening number of wreckless morons  on the road every day. We are lucky we don’t have to commute anywhere and when we do drive it’s invariably during daytime. Our driving style is defensive to say the least.  I drive like a scared granny with one eye and Jayne is a biker so automatically assumes everyone else on the road is a drunk blind twat and that helps. 

On a more positive note there is art in our jungle again.  We encourage everyone to leave no trace but leave us art. We were blessed to have one of our favorite artists staying with us who has epic skills with oil paints and has just spent the last year travelling the world perfecting hand-poke tattoos.

Jungle art day in at the bar

Roughing it on the balcony

She has surveyed spots for murals and has started an elaborate sign for us on a lump of parota wood. She had to leave to attend a posh exhibition of her work in London but will be back with us early next year when we intend to kidnap her for some weeks. 

Actually turns out she is back with us a bit sooner. We get a message from the airport soon after dropping her off. She has taken Pauly’s British passport and left hers behind.  She does not have shaved hair or mustache or any other resemblance in the slightest to Pauly. She is effectively stuffed. Has to return to us for a few days extra and rebook flight to get to London just in time. She is not at all phased by the added sun and jungle days.

We are all invited to US Thanksgiving. There is a crowd of six of us on the land and we arrive mob handed to a beautiful seafront property with a private beach.  Although many hours late we are the first to arrive and settle in for a huge feed.  More folk arrive as we carve up turkey and start tequila matching everything.  Turns out tequila goes with everything. The sunset is stunning and the moon is full. We all become thankful as newts.

A slight hiccough comes as we try and leave.  Our pick up truck is squeezed in a tight space and during much maneuvering manages to catch the large front security gates and make them an unhelpful new shape.  No drama as our very understanding hosts employ a guy who arrives and quotes for the repair and takes a rather hefty deposit for the work. Turns out the bloke was a chancer who has no intension of mending anything and disappeared.  The receipt for the cash was a fake. Cheeky bugger. A local chap mends the gates in no time for pretty much no money. Deposit gone and lesson learned.

Love is expressed by different cultures in different ways. In Mexico love is expressed by volume.  If there is a speaker playing it is on full volume. Bigger the speaker the more love. It’s insane. If there is a wedding or quinceñera party in San Pancho we can hear it out here in the jungle as if it was just outside.  Amazingly bad music played very very loud.

We are invited to an early Xmas party out at an organic farm through which we have met many good people.  It’s an impressive set up run through volunteers and a dedicated full time crew.  They produce organic vegetables, cheese and dairy and sell it from a shop in Lo De Marcos.  All goes very well until  further conversation is made impossible. A large group of highly loving musicians turn up and blasts our faces off with fairly terrible versions of all the traditional Mexican hits…. The boys then bring on their beloved horses to dance. How they have such affinity with these animals I do not know. They are in beautiful condition and dance pretty much in time to the crap music.  It’s a sight to behold.

It’s tourist season again. The days are bearably sunny, new restaurants are opening and producing exceptional food this year. Nights are cool enough to sleep. It’s altogether rather pleasant. With all the Thanksgivings over we now experience a great influx of Canadians and Pacific NW Americans who are here escaping the snow for the next 6 months.  Xmas is coming fast and the town is busy… and so are we.  Guests are arriving and paying us to stay. We sorta kinda forgot about the intricacies paying guests which is very much a lot of the point of the place. We have been too wet and warm and are out of the professional hosting habit.  It’s back to laundering sheets and employing my legendary patience. We seem to be avoiding the idiots that can’t work out where the beach is and attracting a more jungly sort this year which is good news.

So we have all sorts of ambitious plans to create and refurbish but have spent most of our energies transforming our rental casitas and apartment from soggy and rain-washed to clean and sexy places to stay again. It’s working out. Thankfully guests like what we offer a lot and our bookings are looking good for the next few months.  The jungle destruction machines and chainsaw teams are moving away from us for now which means our guests are no longer treated to the not too distant sounds of engines, falling trees and reversing alarms from 7am to 9pm. At it’s worst, it was still better than the roosters in town we are assured.  It turns out we won’t see the highway from any part of our land which is a massive relief but we will have to arrange for some guerilla bamboo planting in the next months to create further sound barriers.

More worky work is lined up for after Xmas.  We have a heap of wood ready to be varnished , placed and screwed. I have spent a week or two making the stuff taste foul to termites. Termites will take out a solid 4×5 beam in less than a year out here. By soaking the stuff in a mix of diesel fuel, engine oil and a particularly nasty behind the counter toxic red fluid it has a fighting chance of surviving 5 years. The right screws have arrived from USA with friends along with a new impact driver and other essentials we can’t get here.  Just in time. My beloved much abused Makita that came with me 15 months ago from UK actually burst into flames in my hand.  Didn’t know they could do that.  

The soon to be Sky Yoga Platform. Currently just old termite infested lumber.

Our chickens need to watch themselves.  A new morning visitor is a huge black eagle with a white face and long striped tail.  Size of a teenager. It’s taken to sitting on top of the chicken house and scaring the feathers off them.  To be fair it is a huge mean looking scary thing. We can shout it away but it’s not scared and looks twice it’s size in flight. Its very possible it could take off with a chuck in each talon.

Eagle food.

The new chickens continue to provide eggs, as is their purpose.  Sister Bricklebank & Sister Bland are, however, heading nearer to the pot.  To add to the mix our friend who is studying to be a vet saved a small scraggy chicken from the mouth of a dog. She mended its legs with lolly sticks and delivered  “Hey-Hey” to us to adopt.   I had a strong word with Hey-Hey about not becoming a rooster and giving us eggs and to add authority I pointing my machete right at her.  This daft little thug was not paying attention, she jumped on my machete and then sat on my shoulder and pecked my ear.  For the past week we have had a small chicken that looks like a dog has chewed it follow us everywhere while regularly nesting on my shoulder.  When we leave the house she gets in through the cat flap and eats the cats food and leaves chicken shit everywhere.  Mausetrappe is nearly as unimpressed as we are.  I have taken to launching her off the balcony as a discouraging strategy that seems to be working.

Hay-hay the half chewed chicken

We have a rather successful birthday party at our bar.  We have the place restored from the rains and lit up and ready to go.  The waterfall/pools above our land create a magical secluded spot and to have a unique exclusive jungle bar close by is a proper bonus. We have a friend cater for us and deliver endless shrimp and some excellent form of pig to soak up the refreshments. Everyone is fully refreshed for the mandatory scorpion hunt. It’s a great night and reminds us that we have a great venue.

Our exclusive Jungle bar venue ready to take on the masses.

Invisible during the day and day-glo ravers at night

Xmas is now upon us and we have decided to stay in the jungle.  There is no tree nor snowman nor Santa nor turkey nor pudding nor presents nor tinsel nor baubles in sight. We love the lack of Xmas stuff.  Not being total humbugs we have invited anyone who wants to come over in the afternoon to do so and bring food and tipple. We will set up at the bar as the venue. It occurred to us today that we have had over 30 people absolutely confirm they are coming.  If they all indeed arrive and bring food and booze then it’s going to be an event. We have created the makings for four large Beef Wellingtons which is pretty much the most complicated choice for a stress free Xmas but we are going to give it a go. We and our full compliment of guests will standby the beef with a lightish refreshment in hand and see what happens next.

Pressure washing spontaneous tags

More spectacular winter sunsets.

Gold thread spider. One of many throwing massive webs this this of year.
This fella is destined to be a belt.
Found close by when laying water pipe.
Love & Feliz Navidad to Everyone from La Colina.
What is not given is lost.
Be Kind
Jungle Journal

Onwards

  • November 28, 2018
  • by Beave

We dodged a significant bullet. Hurricane Willa moved North of us 50 Km as she hit shore. The jungle here cools the air slightly and creates a diversion for big storms, which saved us. We have the benefit of 36 hours of hard rain and being stuck on our land for day or two but that is the extent of our hardship. Those up North have not faired so well. Villages that have been there for centuries are no longer. Many small towns under water. Dozens dead. Thousands displaced with nothing but the wet clothes on their backs. There have been regular convoys of donated aid. The volunteers are doing traumatic work as best they can but return shocked and dejected by the scale of the crisis. It’s going to take a long time to restore even basic human needs up there. It’s humbling.

Our newest nearest neighbours are a young couple who have been employed to caretake the nearest ranch. She is 16 and has a 10 month old boy. They talk quickly and in country Spanish which I find very tough to comprehend. They are very keen to be hospitable and share what little they have. We & some of our friends have joined them for freshly made breakfast and Palomita (choco powder & milk straight from the cow with tequila frothed up and drunk warm). It is clear to us that visitors to our place love this experience so we are arranging to add it to the list of things to do. Make a few extra pesos for them which will be greatly appreciated.

We are not the last gasp residence out here. We are beaten by half a km by our friendly old hermit who lives in a ram shackled brick structure up in the hills with his cat. He and his brother share the building to sleep in and cook on open fires outside. They use the window as access as he lost the key to the door years ago. He walks into town everyday to give himself exercise so his smoking habit doesn’t kill him. His solitude makes encountering him a longer than expected issue as he finds it quite tough to stop talking. But he is the font of great knowledge as he sees things and knows things about the land here that no one else does. He can put his hands on 20 kg of limes at any time. He can find you a snake, an armadillo or a jaguar. On our last visit to his place he showed us a very good size snake skin curing in salt & sun to make himself a belt. He also knows where the water sources are. We are particularly interested in that. Our experience of 24V water pumps remains sketchy as we find the last one we installed buggered and had to build one from the bits of the busted three. Anyway gravity is a much more reliable thing so we employ our happy hermit and his visiting brother to run us about a kilometer of water pipe from the water source to the pools down to our land. We have on our shopping list a new 2500 liter tinaco which will be spring fed as back up to our current solar powered water well solution.

The pool, which has been a constant source of attention, gets a gift from our friends. They are currently without a pool but have brought with them from Canada a brightly coloured pool robot. Eric, as we call him, is made of day-glow plastic and looks like something from an early 80’s disco. His job is to run around the bottom of the pool like a mobile vacuum sucking up all the crap and goo and dust that it can find and ingesting it until we clean him out. This would usually require quite some faffing, some pumping and removing large amounts of water with the muck. We are somewhat attached to our new time saving day glow friend. He just gets on with it. Our lives are easier.

Miracle of miracles we have an egg. An egg from one of our chickens! I would love to wallow in the result of our perseverance and patience but I can’t. Our new neighbours, as young as they are, are old hands at raising chucks. They delivered three new chickens to our chicken nunnery last night to teach our remaining two what they are for! So the relatively useless Sister Bland and Sister Bricklebank are now joined by three big fat useful birds and we have an egg. Just the one but it’s a start.

There has been the issue of the new highway being build 200 yards from us hanging over our heads for some months. The construction crews are getting closer and the thought of losing so much jungle right in front of us is not a good thing to feel into. We see surveyors and forestry folk wandering around the hills and are waiting to see what happens next. Our contacts have suggested to us that there has been a slight change in the routing and there is a chance that we might be spared the worst of it. Just the thought of being beside major construction for up to a year takes the joy out of a peaceful jungle experience for sure. The thought of losing so much habitat for birds and beasts doesn’t bear thinking about. We are preparing for much guerrilla planting of fast growing bamboo to create a noise and sight barrier as soon as possible.

I talk to my brother who tells me the news we had been waiting for. My Dad has passed. His stroke in February took him from us and it has been a long tough eight months of hospital and care home visits for my Mum and brother. It’s expected but shocking non the less. I managed to see him the week before his stroke and again during my last visit for which I am ever grateful.

We visit the next town Lo De Marcos where we meet friends in the bar. News travels fast here and it becomes a spontaneous wake for my Dad. I travel home laid out in the bed of the pick up truck watching lightening between the clouds and stars and remembering my magnificent father.

It’s Dia de los Muertos in a few days and friends are creating a shrine for loved ones to be remembered. It’s a noble tradition to give one day a year to remember and honor loved ones who are no longer with us. Far from the spectacular scenes at the start of a certain 007 movie dia de los muertos is a time of reflection and a private family day. Graves are laden with flowers and families gather. If your ancestor was a musician music is played, if a dancer then there is much dancing, if a gambler then much is lost and won, if a drinker… you get the idea. For those of us wishing to participate without a graveside, alters are constructed with flowers and photographs, salt and earth and candles. There is a gathering in the town square and as children run around collecting sweets like Halloween I stand beside the picture of my Dad in the middle of the alter with a bottle of tequila and toast his life with everyone I meet. Friends and strangers. It’s a very cathartic experience.

  

It’s a strange thing that funerals in the UK are around two weeks or more after someone dies. In Mexico you are buried within 24 hours. It must be a whirlwind shock for the family to arrange everything and come to terms with the grief all at once. It’s a more drawn out process in UK with deaths having to be registered and formalities and booking churches and crematoriums weeks in advance. This does, however, allow us time to arrange caretakers for the land and arrangements for the properties we help manage and find flights.

It also allows us time to coordinate selling our beloved house in Darlington. It has been with me for 25 years and helped me raise two kids, a business and a sack full of much valued memories. I love that house but it’s time to let go again. Neither my son nor daughter wants to move back to Darlington and I have realised that I don’t either so it’s time. My kids’ inheritance is moving to Mexico and will soon be transformed into a yoga deck and many other sexy structures. It does mean flying to the UK for a week to say goodbye to my Dad and my house. A challenge.

It all starts rather well. Wales give us the great gift of beating Australia in the Rugby for the first time in 18 years the weekend before the funeral. Dad just loved his rugby and wherever we were in the world we spoke after every International. At full time, after a few brace of Guinness, my brother and I treat the pub to a loud rendition of Guide me O thou Great Redeemer (Cym Rhondda). Everyone gets an earful – Bread of Heaven at full volume. Lucky buggers.

  

The funeral in the idyllic rural village of Folkingham in Lincolnshire has been beautifully arranged and is very well attended.  My brother and I stand next to the coffin and do a joint eulogy and say out load how we feel about the magnificent bugger . As emotional as it gets but we both got through it. There are Welsh hymns to get all the feels going including a more tuneful version of Cym Rhonnda . My son helps carry him, my daughter does a poignant reading and my niece sings an aria like an angel. Not a dry eye in the house. Just my brother and I rode with him to the crematorium. He tells me that he considers the wicker coffin looks more like a bread basket which lightens the mood. The girls have smuggled in a few cans of Guinness into the funeral car. We toast our Dad , Derek “Taff” Beaverstock.  One last belt out of Cym Rhonnda sung by Welsh male voice choir and we are taken to the pub. Our journey is made all the more memorable by the appearance of the strongest and most spectacular rainbow spanning the Lincolnshire fields guiding our way. I appreciate all the support and love from everyone. I am left with the feeling that my Dad is far from gone but with me always.

  

We bid Lincolnshire and family farewell and travel to Darlington to meet a lovely chap who used to live in our house. He called us out of the blue and asked to meet up. He arrives in a tweed suit carrying photos and flowers. He has done very well for himself over the years but had humble beginnings in a couple of rented rooms in my house around the 1940s. We saw the place where they hid from the bombs during the war and the room where he was born and slept in a sock drawer as a baby. It was great to be so nostalgic with him sharing memories of the spaces we all shared at one point in our lives.

So onwards to our solicitor to sign it all away. Then back the house to donate the last of the furniture and tools (too big to fly with) to charity. Much lifting stuff into vans and saying farewell to empty rooms.

Our good Greek friend and super-chef opens his restaurant in Darlington to us to feed us magnificently and welcome friends who have helped us so much selling the house. A thank you and further wake awash with organic Greek red wine. Then to friends in Manchester via the apple store where our genius sees what Mexican humidity can do to technology. We reload on tech and good food and good company and fly home. Something of an emotional blur.

We return to find the highway chainsaw crews have already arrived and started taking down the 6m corridor of jungle where the road is going to be built. They have been working everyday we have been away and are now well advanced in their destruction. We look from every angle of the land and can’t see any change. This is a good thing. We have workers coming to us for water and to borrow tools. They tell us that although their vehicles are parked next to our gate they walk over 2km before they start work. It looks like the highway is 2000m away not 200m away. You can’t see it and there is a hill in between. This affects the value of our land (not that we are wanting to sell it) and our future plans significantly. It’s not for certain yet but this is potentially the best news we could get after a tough week.

The rains have stopped. We swim in the ocean and see whales passing by from the beach. We have good friends staying with us and we all have been invited to our first US Thanksgiving Dinner. The jungle is now considerably cooler and less humid even in the short time we have been away. The cash from the sale of the house is on it’s way to fund our next stage of creation. There is a lot to do.

It’s good to be home.

Jungle Journal

Spinning Plates

  • October 24, 2018
  • by Beave

Be careful what you ask for, right? We have been nagging on about the lack of water for months. We are now hunkered down after 30 hours of constant rain. The rivers are too strong to cross and a category 5 hurricane is heading our way tonight. We are stocked up and confident we can get through fairly unscathed but the poor buggers 50 miles North of us are set to get smashed. Huge seas swells and up to 18 inches of rain are forecast. Roads already closed due to landslides and there is a mass evacuation to higher land along the entire coast. Been up connecting generator to solar batteries and trenching water paths since first light. I’m soaked. We are not half as worried about our well levels today.

The Malecon in Puerto Vallarta credit: Edgar Garnica

Our fixation with getting lamb also has come to a head. Our butcher has promised us he now knows the difference between a goat and lamb and we order one. When we ask him about it the next week he tells us it has been delivered and is at his house. His kids are feeding it. Would we like to meet him? So that’s our meat eating choices becoming very real and in our consciousness. We decide that we cannot be too hypocritical and we will collect the meat the next day but decline the introduction. We are presented with our lamb skinned and whole. We agree how we require it butchering and take it all. The head is saved by me for a slow cooked treat at some point when I’m by myself. Jayne cannot face the face. Our freezer is now full.

My prison wine has had a lot of loving attention and sugar feeds. It’s time to decant it into glass and mature it to perfection. There is, however, a strange phenomena that we notice when it is in the bottle. Under the sunlight coming through the window the opaque amber liquor appears to be moving in patterns. A sort of shimmer and slight changes in colour. I examine closely and then chuck the lot very quickly into the jungle. It’s full of very tiny drunk worms. Wine fail. I am disappointed we lost all our banana stash. Jayne less so.

Our mate Pauly has arrived with us from Essex, UK for 9 weeks of helping us out. We take a “business trip” to Puerto Vallarta to collect him from the airport and indulge somewhat with what the big city has to tempt us. Recovery times are long and we arrive back to the jungle late. Our new 24V DC water pump he brought in his hand luggage from UK is installed immediately. His gifts of cheese, tea, marmite and whisky are quickly hidden away in the “precious things“ store. Pauly’s first night brings 4 inches of rain and a rather impressive lightening storm. He emerges from his new jungle cabin home shaken but not too phased. That is a good start.

He reminds us that he is about 300m from our treehouse. That is the furthest he has slept from another human being in his life.

Since we left for PV our man and his mates have taken machetes to the land and spent hours pulling roots. The place has been transformed. I can see the ground and jungle appears for the first time in weeks somewhat tamed. The water system repairs include a few broken lines and we get around to fixing them. While I am swinging a machete to make extra space for pipe I get a large painful strike to the ear. I consider that I have somehow lost control of the machete and hit myself. I then get another strike to my solar plexus and I rapidly work it out. I spot the nest. Hornets. Run. We leave the repairs for another day very rapidly.

I’m feeling slightly “other-worldly” as the day progresses. We go to town for a business meeting about some land for sale but I am just not able to make much sense of anything and am deposited in a restaurant beach bar to watch the surfers. The sea has taken on some extraordinary swells and the surfing at our beach is the best I’ve ever seen. The hornet venom adds some extra colour to proceedings. We watch as the beach is eaten away by the sea swell. The beach is only a few meters from the sea now and ends in a sharp drop down which a few large palapa shade structures are headed. We help save them and miss the main event. A freak wave has landed on the far table from us where Jayne is sitting. She is entirely soaked and covered in a thick layer of sand. Her amusement does not match my own. We leave for home as a tornado forms in the sea up the coast.

The disappearing beach is an annual event and is expected to return again within a few weeks. One of the benefits to the very high tides is that it is badly effecting a development that has been inflicted on our beach by less than scrupulous developers. Punta Paraiso was proposed some years ago as beachfront condo type apartments. The whole structure has been built far too close to the sea, which effectively steals land from the Mexican people and more disturbingly the turtles that have nested there for thousands of years. It is not supported in any way by the town and a strong campaign is underway alongside an active protest group to have it removed. Despite all the objections building continues and apartments are being sold off plan to unsuspecting Americans and Canadians. Karma may, however, be being played out as large sand deposits and waves have caused havoc already with the build (as well as Jayne.) The impending hurricane may just add to their worries too. We do hope so.

 

 

We are becoming a lot more productive. Wood has been ordered to construct our yoga platform in the trees. Not sure how we will get it all out there but will deal with that problem as is comes. We also acquired a load of pine wood and set about making a door for the Selva Vista apartment to replace the mosquito net and child gate that is there at the moment. What we end up with looks like a door from a pirate movie set and we are delighted. Just the right amount of nonsense. Fits perfectly. It’s good to get back into it again. Bit of creativity and the smell of wood being transformed.

Our truck is overheating, our razor exhaust has come adrift and our van’s transmission decides to stuff up as Jayne is on the highway going to collect her brother, his wife and her niece from the airport. Family day out required where we find someone to weld the exhaust and leave the van to get a new transmission. Living here has been described to me, by those who observe, as a constant process of spinning plates. There is always something that needs our attention. I’m not sure that it’s very different than most peoples existence juggling kids, work, habits, fun. We just have different plates to spin.

Our friend is having health issues and is in hospital getting rehydrated and contacts us to help her by letting her three dogs out. We are in the re-opened bar in Lo De Marcos and there is talk of baby turtles to be released on the beach at sunset. Jayne heads to see to dogs and agrees to meet us on the beach soon after. It turns out that it was a dog release day too. One of them decides to make a beak for it and vanishes. Jayne is distraught that her friend is in hospital now with a lost dog to add to her woes. The turtle release coincides with a spectacular sunset and a very stressed Jayne. The dog is eventually recovered, friend recovers and all is well again.

  

Juan Gabriel is a local horse. A fine good-looking sort that lives happily for most of the year outside near the local ranch. Unfortunately for him he has been recently deemed delicious by vampire bats and is covered in bites. Vets and local cures are deployed so the future is good but he is a sorry sight at the moment poor sod.

After a few days of overcast weather we awake to find we have no power. No sun means, of course, no solar power. We have become far too complacent with our fabulous system trusting it to power up in the dark. Not a good strategy. The generator is plugged in and saves the batteries. It’s been many days since we have seen the sun now and the humidity and rain have set in. Sun not expected to return for a while yet. Our clothes and our bodies are constantly damp or soaked. Hang anything up to dry and it gets wetter?? We make emergency runs to laundry just to get our stuff dry before it rots.

It’s a particularly wet day and so Jayne’s brother, Pauly and myself decide to lay 300m of Internet cable through thick jungle. As we know there is a perceived benefit to far too many to have constant Wi-Fi, Facebook and instagram available. Although our plan for jungle wide Internet does cater to those perceptions the biggest benefit to us is that we can talk directly to our solar system. Jayne is very excited by the prospect. It also allows the possibility of her Dad in Calgary, Canada to effectively monitor and manage our system remotely. Nerdy paradise. Another hornet encounter and a proper muddy soaking later the cable is laid. A day of fiddling and twiddling with modems and some trenching later and we have it. Our solar system talks to Jayne wherever she is and there is the facility (for those who need it) to attach a phone to their face at all times.

Our friends live in a rather amazing house on many floors overlooking Lo De Marcos from a hill. We are invited to Canadian Thanksgiving there. I didn’t know that was a thing . In advance of the party our man has been commissioned and has found some stunning Parota from which a table has been made and a bar constructed. Both bar and table are required on the very top floor of the house on top of the hill. We set off in the pickup truck which is massively overloaded with wood and men. It takes six of us to sweat and grunt and swear these enormous lumps of wood up all the stairs. My truck and my back will never be the same again. It was worth it. After a sand and varnish they look incredible. The party starts early afternoon for us with Mezcal and continues until late and we stay over. I somehow manage to survive my first Canadian Thanksgiving… but only just. I feel like I’ve been hit with a moose. Not a pretty sight.

We have had some aircrew friends and a pilot stay with us overnight. It reminded us that we need to be ready for guests at any time. Even off season rainy times. There is a flurry of sweaty & sweary cleaning and preparation not at all helped by my post thanksgiving moose hangover. We find that hornets love it around our cabañas and deal with a number of substantial hornet homes. One further discovery was that pillows just don’t survive the wet season here. They take on mold like nothing else even in these few short months of high humidity. Our “good value” pillows that were in protective plastic are covered in black mold and stink. I borrow some to get us away. Our next mission is to acquire good quality pillows and protect them with special covers and provide a delightful cloud like head space for our future guests. Our aircrew were sufficiently refreshed for it not to be an issue when the time came to collapse. They braved the jungle and the beasts well despite some clearly expressed anxiousness. Waking to find your window covered in black biting ants , however, may not have been the perfect start to the next day. At least they were on the outside.

Ants are everywhere just now. We have seen them take over entire areas in no time and then move on.   Streams of them attack everything and anything in their path. Getting them in your shoes or sandals is not fun. We have seen large scorpions being carried off, hornets nests entirely overrun and even attempted to save a snake from them. The snake did not look well afterwards. They hurt when they bite.

Our bug of the month award goes to a very large black armored chap that gets to be the size of a small bird. They appear in the tree house attracted to the lights and fly very noisily around until they stupidly or clumsily collide with something. There is a “tock” noise as they impact the fridge or a wall and knock themselves out and land on the floor. I have to retrieve them and throw them outside before the cat chews on them. Not the most elegant of creatures. Dumb Bugs we call them.

Our perfect guests appeared on us with almost no notice at all. Our friend from  Birding San Pancho delivers them to us. Thankfully our aircrew friends encouraged us to clean and prepare for them so we are a lot more ready than we were. The new group is a professor and four students from Mexico City. They are all entomologists! Unlike every other guest we have ever had they actually want to see bugs. Lots of them. They bring nets and screens and equipment and spend a couple of rapturous days in and around our place exalting all those things others revile. They leave very contented. That just might be a long term thing. Bring on the bug lovers.

So after a quick farewell surf Jayne’s brother and his family have returned to Vancouver. She misses them already. No more guests for a week or two. Pauly and I are still waiting for wood and a break in the weather to start the yoga platform. The hurricane is now just a few hours away and it’s still raining hard. We are attempting to stay dry and be ready for anything. Spinning plates.

La Colina Project

The Road to Paradise is Not Paved.

  • September 22, 2018
  • by Jayne

The road to paradise is not paved.

There are no crowds, no peddlers, nor shops.

This land is filled with babbling streams, butterflies, geckos and armadillos. And the birds – birds you have never seen before.

In every colour.

The night is dark, or so bright the full moon lights your every step. The sky is filled with stars, and the fireflies make you think the stars have fallen to earth.

Here you milk a local cow for your breakfast coffee, the chickens give you your omelettes, garnished with herbs from the garden.

You wake to the sound of birds singing, amongst the swaying palms and majestic old trees.

You can’t help but connect by disconnecting.

There is no need for your laptop, to stream entertainment, to post every moment.

Sit with me and a thousand butterflies in a clearing, lay on your back staring past the treetops and the soaring birds to the endless sky, create art.

A sculpture, a mural, a mosaic…

Meditate under a palm roof, practice your sun salutation overlooking endless jungle, swim in a pool that is away from it all.

Paradise does not have polished floors or air conditioned, dust free, clinical spaces.

Here you live with nature, her beauty, her sting, her inhabitants, her rage and her joy.

You are allowed to cry.

You are encouraged to laugh.

Here you feel.

The air, the heat, the humidity, the dirt, the insects, the love.

In paradise you feel at one with the earth, at one with others, at one with yourself.

If you have forgotten nature, if you are missing the feeling of growing things, if you need grounding, to be creative, to build things, to be part of community, if you are lost.

Come to paradise.

 

www.lacolinaproject.com  – Jungle Stays & More – near San Pancho, Nayarit, Mexico

 

Jayne and Beave standing in the Scorpion Temple, a building full of potential but not yet finished.
Morning cow milking
Beautiful Wings
Create Art!
Mural at La Colina
Jungle Swimming Pool
Our outdoor jungle bar
Join us for dinner
A San Pancho Sunset captured by John Curley
Viewing platform at the cabañas
Quiet and peaceful
Outdoor kitchen
We don’t use precious water to flush – we use sawdust to create compost instead!
The road to La Colina #junglelife
One of our glamping cabañas
Even the kitchen sink can be art.
Glamping at it’s finest. Sleep in nature, not away from her.
Cosy and comfortable sleeping options for every budget.
Made palapa thatch
We can’t wait to meet you. Book Now!

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

Our treehouse before we moved in

The pool when we first found it

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.

Feel welcome
Jungle Swimming Pool
Our outdoor jungle bar
Viewing platform at the cabañas
Inside the Sky Casita
Jayne and Beave being the gate to La Colina in Sept 2017
The gate to La Colina 6 months later
One of our glamping cabañas
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.

 

Armadillo

Butterflies

Home grown pineapple

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.

Thank 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 11th and 12th 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.

 

 

 

 

 

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