Latitudes and altitudes

I am back home in Juneau this week.

Although we reside in Arizona, we consider Alaska and Mexico to be home. The 2 are not that much different from each other. Really.

Maybe that is why I am so comfortable with Mexico. I already know how to deal with lack and abundance.

Both places have an abundance of tourist and natural beauty. Both lack faith in the Government. When Alaskans want/need something done, we do it ourselves. Usually Government comes in at the last minute and claims the credit for itself.

It's the rainy season here as well as Mexico. Actually it is the rainy season in Juneau all parts of the year. When it's not snowing. There is still snow on the Mountains, I can see some from this couch I am on. Some one call Vice President Gore and ask him about the warming thing.

Well, today I am going to go down to the cruise ship dock and sell tours along side my youngest daughter. It is aways fun to talk to the tourist. Most consider to Alaska to be a once and a lifetime adventure and their wide eyed expressions are priceless. Along with the comments like; " WOW, how beautiful, what is the altitude here?" umm, you are on a dock, just off a ship that is in the ocean...

It reminds me of listening to tourist on our way to Mexico. I have actually heard people say that they would love Mexico more if it wasn't so filled with Mexicans.

Obviously, Jimmy Buffet missed the point when he sang about changes in latitude, changes in attitudes. The attitudes of most tourist change not regardless of the latitude or altitude.

A pity.

My second time in Mexico, Part 3 of 3

The underwater scream was terrifying. It could have only been Keith; we were the only ones in the bay that early morning.

I came to the surface and looked back. Swimming towards me, he splits the snorkel out and shouts for me to swim to shore.

I didn’t question him, I swam. Fast. With swim fins, you can really move when you need too.

Something had taken a silver dollar size bite out of his lower back. Near his hip pocket. The pocket contained a soggy packet of crackers. Keith was trailing food like a human chum bucket. Snorkeling adventure over. Keith was fine and taking a line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail says…”it’s just a flesh wound”

I don’t know how we found this beach to start with; it was not on the beaten path. In fact there was no path at all. We parked the car in the desert and bushwhack our way down the steep incline. We didn’t take any provisions like water or food. We had thought there would be palapa bars and restaurants.

Hiking down also means a struggle up. I have a friend who calls flip flops “Go-aheads” because you cannot go backwards in them. You cannot go up a sandy hill with them either.

The sand was blistering hot. The flip flops provided no protection or traction. I was better off putting them on my hands. So that’s what I did. I have never been so hot, tired, dirty, salty, thirsty and hungry in all my life. I just wanted to get back to the car and away from “Biting Fish Bay”

Like refugees fleeing a war zone, we stopped at the first place we find. It was approaching noon. The small hotel/restaurant was out in the middle of nowhere. It was quiet and had a cool breeze coming off the water.

No Boom Boom music. No whistling activities directors yelling “Beach Bally Ball”. No waiters with stiff white outfits. No swim up bar. No margarita machine.

It was perfect. It probably has long since been torn down and replaced by something cheesy and American.

It was there that we fell in love. With Mexico. All that she is and all that she isn’t. Sounds similar to the deal that Keith is in for with me.


So much had taken place on this 7 day trip and little had anything to do with observing the culture, or enjoying the slow pace that Mexico can offer. It’s Cabo for crying out loud! How does one fall in love with Mexico based upon Cabo? It would be like falling in love with America having spent a few days in Disney Land.


When the ratty van took us the back to the airport, I was much more aware of my surroundings than I had been on the trip in.

Tire repair shops everywhere. Why is there such a need for that?

Grilled chicken joints, Farmicia’s and Muffler shops. It was all so jumbled up.

I was drawn into the lovely disorder of it all. It makes my life seem more organized and balanced.

I considered not getting on the flight. After all, I was legally single; I had some money that had just been freed up from the divorce. I could quit my job, send for my cat, kayak and Bronco II and live in Mexico. Plus it was my birthday the next day and what a better way to prove that you have lost you mind than to spontaneously move to Mexico?

The airport chair was fiberglass, orange and as comfortable as a church pew, but I preferred it to the First Class seat awaiting my boarding.

Alaska Airlines was getting ready to shut the door. I was getting ready to shut one as well.

If table dance night hadn’t screwed things up enough, this should do it for sure.

Through snotty sobbing and primitive sign language I was able to communicate to Keith the many fears I had concerning our future together and the overwhelming desire to stay in Mexico. I wanted him stay here with me, but how would that be possible? He had 2 little girls in Alaska. Jeez, that adds to my paralysis… I am soon to be a step Mom.

He hugged me tight and made promises about our future including Mexico. He told me that we would return soon and that if I still wanted to live in Mexico, than one day we would.

We were the last passengers to board the flight. As the plane pushed back I saw something that I had never seen before or since. The ground crew stood at attention in a salute to our pilots.

A salute is appropriate for beginnings and endings, for advancement and dismissal. I find it appropriate that during my 7 days in Mexico that I have ended a marriage and began the path towards another. I have dismissed my past and have advanced into my future.

I blow Mexico a kiss and finished the 2nd chapter in my memory book of Mexico.

(Note, although we have yet to live in Mexico, we have come very close. We purchased ocean front property near Zihuatanejo but sold it a few years later. We continue our search for somewhere we will enjoy putting down roots and putting up a palapa!)

Second time in Mexico. Part 2 of 3

He must love me. Why else would he have quietly turned and walked away just because I told him to leave me alone?

Because he is a nice man and he had made a promise.

I had never put much stock in promises. From my experience they were just a concept. Just like mañana is a concept, although it means tomorrow in Spanish, it doesn’t necessarily mean that next day. It just means, not today.

Just yesterday, I had broken a promise to one man and on this night I came close to breaking another. To my supposed to be husband.

Alcohol induced arguments laced with flammable emotions complicated by exhaustion and impromptu table dancing leads to more than a disagreement. It leads to an all out snarling fight.

Keith was about to be caught up in the Perfect Storm and there was little he could have done to prevent it. Although he tried.

Booze was the most powerful storm approaching very slowly but with gale force winds expected.

Fatigue had sat down in the area for a number of hours. Although not as fierce at Booze, it left the area weak and exposed.

Fear had been lingering just off the area for years. It was waiting for the added force of Booze and Fatigue to wreak its havoc.

The three systems came crashing together after a long day of fishing, with little to eat and too much to drink. Me, not Keith.

Petulant fit. I did not recognize myself. Was that really me dancing on a table? In a bar? I threw my shoes at Keith in the hallway of a ritzy hotel. I spat venomous words and locked him out of the room.

Than I sat. And waited. And waited.

I gathered up my stupid self and went in search of my supposed to be husband. He was on the beach, weathering the storm.

No apologies offered. I was too prideful for that. He was to kind to demand any. He must love me.

We walk silently down the echoing hallway. Two strappy sandals lie haphazardly on the marble floor, just where the lunatic owner had thrown them.

In a fluid, yet deliberate motion, Keith bends over of scoops them up. He stashes them under one arm and puts the other arm around my waste.

We promise to talk about it mañana. And we do.

Promises. They are no longer a concept for me.

(Note; I cannot believe what an idiot I was. I would like to think that I had a bad reaction to the food, but I didnt have any. A rookie mistake. Keith tried to prevent this. But I was having none of his “control measures”. That’s what started the fight. I guess he didn’t think the public table dance was a good idea. I hope to redeem myself in the 3rd and final installment of this story)