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Doing The Springtime Boogie

Misol-ha, where the trail takes you behind the falls. Owned by the tribe as ejido (co-operative) land, this well-preserved and minimally developed site lies between the Mayan ruins at Palenque and the city of San Cristobal, in the highlands of Chiapas.[photo by Diana Ricci]

In a week, we will be in U.S.-Occupied California. We have made this pilgrimage every year since we began living together, five years and more ago. Diana has a casita (small house) on property she shares with her daughter and son-in-law, off a country road near Sequoia National Park, crammed full of artesania and mementos of her travels; and she allows me to share it with her for as long as I can stand to be away from home: usually, less time than her.

While we are there, we will catch up on movies and the latest books from the library, buy some more and/or more recent accessories for our computer, replace some of the clothing we've worn out, and talk to friends over the telephone at a fraction of what it costs here for long distance. We will enjoy the more oxygenated atmosphere at 4,000 feet lower (not to mention cleaner air: Oaxaca is, after all, a city).

Diana will get her eyes examined and her yearly physical (she has U.S. health insurance, I don't), pay her taxes, and work in her garden. I will make my annual attempt at writing fiction while spending a fair amount of time on the internet, consulting the Mexican press and contacting folks down here to keep up: I still have four deadlines a month to meet.

We will visit with her kids and grandkids, watch a lot more television (we don't have cable at home, so re-runs don't bother us), drive a lot of miles (the nearest sizable town, Visalia, is 35 miles away), and hopefully take a few trips to San Francisco and other old haunts to take in the museums, visit old friends, eat lots of Vietnamese and Thai food, and cool off (the thermometer at Diana's often tops 100 degrees in the summer).

We will change our eating habits. Eating a comida in the middle of the afternoon in the U.S. means eating alone. Since we enjoy the company of others, we will have to revert to the old ways, and eat a light lunch and a large (but relatively early) supper. That means I will have to stay up a little bit later than I do at home, to give digestion time to work; and that we will have to exercise a little more to keep ourselves from gaining weight, particularly as we are both partial to the many and varied wines available in U.S. supermarkets at advantageous prices.

On the other hand, the local orange groves will still be vending the spring navel crop, and that means no fresh native juice oranges until June. We will miss the golden sunlight that we are drinking now at home, 25 for 10 pesos, as well as the fresh vegies and fruits of every description, full of taste and nutrition and easily affordable for us fixed income old folks.

This year, we will not sublet our house while we are gone: the last time we did it, the tenant was less than desirable to the landlady with whom we share our property; but worse than that, he didn't get along with the cleaning lady, a person of infinite patience who nonetheless ran out of same during his stay. Since I am almost always the first to return, I'll have to be more careful to replace things exactly where Diana left them; I won't be able to say "so-and-so" must have misplaced it.

This year, after doing this shuffle for as long as we have, we will have more stuff to take up than to bring back. Aside from the usual presents for all the relatives and friends, we are taking a hand loomed beadspread, and some table cloths that we bought in Guatemala this winter. I already brought down the jig saw, the new VCR, the slide projector and the big wok-like Teflon coated frying pan last year. Maybe I'll be able to retire the big rolling duffle bag in California this trip; the one it takes two strong men to lift above waist level when it is full. I hope so: the hernia operation I had this year wasn't much fun.

I'll miss teaching my Orientation classes twice a week, and I'll miss my year-round pals here (by now, most of our seasonal buddies have flown north). But of course it will be fun to visit with our stuck-at-home-and-job friends and family.

We fly from here to Tijuana nonstop, and catch a bus from the airport to Los Angeles where Diana's son will meet us and take us to his house, where Diana's car will be waiting. That means that after not driving a car for almost a year, my first driving experience of 2000 will be hopping on the Hollywood Freeway, always an exhilarating, not to say unnerving, experience.

Change is good, so we are told. It might as well be: California, here we come!

If you have comments or suggestions for Stan, you can contact him at: stan@realoaxaca.com

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