My Favorite Things

In 5 weeks I will be back on my beautiful island. My days are busy constructing our website, researching advertising, and deciding what I need to take back the most in our 6 check-ons. Our plans to bring a container of furniture back to the island have been put on hold and more possibly canceled. To make a long story short, they said that as long as we resided in Mexico our things could be in Mexico; but if we ever left, our things had to leave the country too. There was a little more to it, but that point alone was enough to convince my packing-dreading husband to give up the idea (one less 1 ton bookcase to move.) Well I am adjusting to the idea and consoling myself with the fact that it will enable us to return to the island a little sooner. I miss getting up with the sunrise, reading in the hammock, driving my golf cart to the market, buying fish right off the boat and fresh tortillas from La Gloria. These are a few of my favorite things. Just call me a Mexican Julie Andrews.

Imperfect is Perfect

If imperfections are a mark of hand made goods, then my house is surely hand crafted! We are down to our last 2 weeks and it looks as if we will not finish. We are going to shut it up and finish where we left off when we return. We are thoroughly exasperated with the struggles of building, as I know our builders are too. Hopefully we will return refreshed and ready for the final details.
That said, I will say the house in general is quite magical. It has the pathos of a renovated ruin off the coast of Spain. The rock walls and stone floors give it old world charm while the grass palapas add that Caribe vib. Throw in hints of Morocco and you have Magi Azul – Caribe Beach House.
We are now sleeping in one of the almost finished rooms upstairs. At night I light my candles on the patio, listen to the surf and watch the palm trees and grass edges of the palapa sway in the breeze. I can almost feel my blood pressure go down after a hard day of monitoring workers. There is such a sense of peaceful relaxation here even while it is still a construction zone. I remember when we first started and I was trying to get the workers to do irregular finishes on the walls and rounded imperfect corners everywhere. I said, “Imperfect is perfect.” Well I am certainly getting what I asked for in areas I never expected, but I am also learning to live with those words and realizing in Mexico that truly – “Imperfect is perfect.”

Magia de Jose

The house is just starting to transform from a building site into a home. I love the new grass palapa entry and covered patio. The pool should be finished this week, and so far it looks beautiful. When we are through it will be surrounded by multi-tiered bamboo gardens and overshadowed by palms and oleanders. I am hoping it looks like a Balinese garden. If I can keep the workers from trashing each others work before the house is finished or before I lose my mind and temper it will be a small miracle. Everyday I find new paint, wood stain and chicken asada grease on the rough stone floors and I pace the house like Yosemite Sam with fire coming out of my ears. This house has been the most stressful project we have ever undertaken besides raising a teenager (that is another blog.) Instead of spending the whole blog harping on my frustrations, I would like to sing the praises of one lowly worker. He is not the architect. He is not even the foreman. He is just one of the workers who always tries to do a good job and always listens to my broken Spanish and somehow understands what I want. I have never caught him rolling his eyes at my requests, and he is always very truthful and sympathetic with me. Plus he is also an expert at all things concrete. Yesterday as we surveyed bathroom counters that were done improperly and looked unacceptable. We discussed possible solutions and what could and couldn't be done. Finally we came upon a compromise that I think Jose can make work. I told him he would use the magia de Jose (the magic of Jose) on them. I left the site in my golf cart with peace and confidence that everything would be alright (no small feat.) When I look back on this building process, Jose will be one bright spot in the picture. I thank God for the magia de Jose - a young man with patience, a work ethic of excellence and a talent for taming the Yosemite in me.

Magi Azul

Some months ago I decided that Casa Leon was not the name that I wanted for the house here on Isla Mujeres. I didn't want clients thinking a person named Leon owned the house. Leon in Spanish means lion, and at one point I was going to have a lion fountain spouting water into the pool. However the lion is gone along with the name. From Casa Leon, I pondered The Grotto - Beach House. I got mixed reactions. My father was appalled that I was going to name my house after a cave. I explained that grottoes were sometimes gardens and sometimes ornately decorated. Our house has so much stone work that the name really does fit well. However, as much as I had visions of candle light and monks in mysterious old ruins, I was afraid clients might have visions of cold, damp caves. And so I continued my quest for that name full of mystery and magic. While reading a foreign design magazine I ran across an article titled "Magi Azul." As soon as I saw that title I said, "Oh I love that!" And so Magi Azul - Caribe Beach House was born. My husband, Stan, then asked me, "What does that mean?" I said, "It means blue magic. Imagine the blue ocean, the blue sky and the magical beauty of it all." My husband, the consummate investigator, then does a web search and informs me that magic is magia in Spanish and that magi were wise men. I, however, was undeterred and a women with a passion. "It doesn't matter," I said. "It's a great name. The magi were star gazers, travelers and seekers of truth. It still works." Then I, the consummate researcher nerd, did a linguistic search and found that magi does indeed mean magic in Swedish! So all those visiting Swedes will know exactly what I mean! The rest of us will just think it's cool no matter what language it is. I tried to explain to Stan that it didn't have to have a specific definition. It is about the emotions the words evoke. The words even sound and feel beautiful rolling off your tongue. The g in Magi is pronounced like the g in genre (Maagjii Ahzzuul) Magi Azul. Didn't that feel good? So as house construction is coming to an end so is my search for a name I love. I have found it -
Magi Azul
~
Caribe Beach House.

Don't Worry -Be Happy

"Blessed are those who endure to the end..." After building this house in Mexico that scripture has new meaning. The stress level from design decision making has subsided since we are so close to being finished, and it has been replaced by a different kind of stress. The term "over budget" doesn't even begin to express the disparity between the allotted funds planned for this project and the actual cost. I pray I will have enough dinero to buy my light fixtures. I now understand why there are so many houses halfway done in Mexico.
The last house we built in Mexico took Stan 8 months to complete. By the time construction was over Stan was so disgusted with being ripped off and paying bribes that he decided he didn't want to live in Mexico anymore. He slapped a "Se Vende" (For Sale) sign in the yard, and we sold it without me even getting to spend a night in it completed. Now we are not to that point yet, but lets just say that I can't wait for this to be over.
Right now I am sitting in a folding chair flanked by bags of cement and stacks of stone tiles in my future living room while I babysit tile setters to make sure they get the pattern right. Actually Julian is working on the tiles today, and I have more confidence in him with tile than anyone. Panso, the stone setter, is working on the 2nd floor garden wall, and Jose, my fantastic finish guy, is working on the poolside garden wall. As I move my chair to the ocean front patio I whisper, "Calgon take me away." The wind on my face and the sound of the surf do the trick, and I begin to imagine what life will be like when all the bags of concrete and workers are gone. Of course, all our money will be gone too, but let's not think about that. I think I will paint a primitive sign on some drift wood that says, "Don't Worry - Be Happy." Anyway, for now I will just sit by these bags of cement and dream of the day that I am eating guacamole by my pool with Sophia begging me to play shark with her. It will be here before I know it.

Mexico Time

I should know this after 15 years, but it continues to amaze and annoy me. On a video I recently heard, "Is it possible to be astonished, but not surprised?" I would have to answer, " Si, Senor." Even my pastor (who is Mexican by the way) refers to time here as "Mexican time" and "American time." Mexican time is epitomized in the word "manana." It is an elusive term that is always in the future and never present tense. American time is generally in comparison - on time. I was raised with the ethical principle that 5 minutes early was on time, on time was late and 5 minutes late was VERY late. In Mexico this slogan is not even in the stratosphere. In Mexico "I'll be back in 2 hours" means "I'll be back in 2 days (if you are lucky.") "I'll be there manana" means, "I'll be there in one to two weeks." If they say they will be there next week, you are really screwed, because that means at least 2 weeks; and if they are a carpenter it means 2 months and still don't hold your breath!
I was dressing for my Taebo class that was "scheduled" to start at 8 am. About 7:45 I was packing up my gear to get to class by 8. I was packing the latest novel I was reading, so that I could fill the time till 8:20 when class would actually start. My husband said, "Why do you bother to get there early, when you know it will not start on time?" "It's principle," I say. In fact, I am not sure that the word "appointment" means the same thing when translated into Spanish. Yesterday we waited for a pool contractor to get a bid on a pool we want constructed at our home. In a weak, hurting economy, he never showed up for his "appointment."
Having whined and complained about this, I will say that although punctuality may not be the forte of the Mexican culture; there are other noble qualities I must note that make up for their transgression in tardiness. A Mexican will spend his last 300 pesos (if he has them) on a costume for his child for the local Spring festival. A Mexican will serve you the only lobster, while he eats fish. A Mexican will honor his mother and father. A Mexican will not leave church without kissing you, and saying, "Dios te vendiga (God bless you)," at least once and very possibly twice. I guess punctuality is not everything. In fact, here in Mexico I always feel good about myself. I have not always been the paragon of punctuality in the U.S., but here I am always early - by Mexico time that is. So as long as I pack a new novel in my purse, I just consider it an enrichment to my literary education. That being said, "I will write again manana - that means one to two weeks by Mexico time!"