Recap: Good Morning, From Here, June 14 – 20
Monday
We had a soggy weekend. So soggy, the President of the Vallarta Garden Club, Sunny Rossi, canceled the outdoor concert on the Isla Cuale starring Angeloo. There is a chance it may be rescheduled; I’ll let you know.
I met my dear friend Brian Bott for mango smoothies last Friday. He put together the most thoughtful travel care package for me to take to Europe, including a small notebook and a pen, as he knows I am not taking my computer. A funny gift centered around mangos with an even funnier card that I cannot take a picture of, fearing that some people would be possibly offended by but let’s just say it looked like a wedding invitation – gold italic writing on heavy bond; I will keep it forever!
Read Richard Coleman’s debut article this morning in Vallarta Mirror. His short stories about walking around different cities in Mexico captured my attention and I hope they will capture yours. He recreates those small idiosyncratic moments that make Mexico so special.
I left my house Saturday a bit before 5 pm to meet Georgia Darehshori for food and chatter at Tacos Now. She had never been, and I needed a baked potato fix. By the time I hit the first bridge crossing the Rio Cuale, it started to rain; by the time I was halfway across, out came the umbrella. (Just a note here: the wooden planks on these two bridges are slick when wet, so tread carefully.)
While I waited for Georgia, the lights went out and stayed out for about an hour. I figured the spuds would be precooked somewhat, at least, so I did not anticipate problemitas. Ugh!
We settled for tacos – Georgia, the pork Madeline Milne highly recommended from our trip to Tacos Now last week. And me, the vegetarian. I was surprised at how good it was; the tortillas were made in-house and delish!
Then, the power came back on, and we continued to feast on those massive Russet potatoes that lend themselves to be baked to perfection. Have you ever eaten potatoes as a kid that were cooked buried under a bonfire?
Remember gingerly pulling away the scalding hot tin foil and braving the tiny missed pieces hitting the silver fillings in your teeth, and then biting through that smoldering blackened skin to the inside? Oh boy, I just had a moment. Anyway, this is as close to that as it comes. Clearly, I am a fan.
I have been sewing like a maniac this past week, trying to make the backlog of purchases from the tianguis into wearable clothes. So today I will go to La Perlita to buy more elastic, then go to Tel Cel and give them some money, and then I will have a facial. I know most women do these as a rule, but I have had exactly one in my life, so I am looking forward to seeing what is involved. You’ll know that answer tomorrow morning, too, From Here.
Tuesday
Hurricane Delila passed us by during the night and with suitable histrionics like thunder and lightning, left sorely needed and abundant rain. I have a normal-size bucket full of water on my patio. Good to use that on those plants that are tucked under an eave. I walked through the house looking for new leaks and only found one. The morning is fresh and clean, and I am hoping the sun will burn away the clouds.
Yesterday, for the first time in my long life, I had a facial – ninety minutes of heaven. I have eschewed “girlie” stuff like that my whole life. My rebellious nature and innate refusal to let anyone do what I am perfectly capable of doing myself. This included manicures, pedicures, massages, hairstyling, micro-blading, face lifts, tattooing eyebrows, hair extensions, hair removal, fake eyelashes and fingernails, and facials; any sort of ‘pampering’ that always struck me as being elitist, unnecessary, and frankly phony, a lot of it.
In retrospect, I now understand why my mother insisted on getting her hair done at a beauty parlor once a month, or however often it was. It was a rare respite from her children and that constant racket. It made her the center of attention for an hour or two, with the only decision she had to make was if the hair dryer was too hot.
Over 70+ years, I have availed myself of some of the above taboo list. Well, manis and pedis, yes, and now facials.
My dear friend Sunny Rossi has joined forces with Holly Bowman and opened Zen Skin Care and Bodyworks around the corner from Paul’s Pelo Pelo salon. This brand-new space is sparkly clean and instantly calming. Sunny’s SkinOrganics, plant-based facials are half of that business.
To begin, we went over an extensive Q and A. Once that was done, I slid into a white velcro-closure spa wrap that covered my torso and laid face up on crisp linens with my head raised slightly on a headrest. Sunny asked if I wanted her to work in silence or to let me know what was coming up next. I opted for the latter.
For most of the time, my eyes were closed with some deliciously cool, lightly fragranced compresses. Cleaning my skin took time, and it gave Sunny an idea of what it needed. In my case, it was tons of hydration, my face was sucking up steam and essential oils like a sponge. Sunny opted for an organic oatmeal/honey mask that sat on my face, neck, and upper chest for 20 minutes at least. During that time, Sunny systematically rubbed my hands, arms, lower legs, and feet with moringa oil mixed with orange essential oil and Vitamin E, leaving all of me silky soft. The mask came off with warm, damp, fluffy towels, then Sunny “ironed” my face with ice-cold jade rollers and used Chinese tools to encourage facial muscles to strengthen their grasp on my aging skin that is rapidly sinking towards the floor!
It was a magnificently restful, indulgent hour and a half, and I am worth it. When I was on my way out the door, Ms Rossi asked how I felt. I replied, “Thanks, Sunny. THAT was better than sex,” From Here.
Wednesday
More rain last night and light clouds this morning, but again, the air is fresh(er!). The difference in the color of the hills around town is reflected in my teeny garden; my bougainvilleas have buds, and the small chunk of Virginia Creeper that Sandra Bradley gifted me a year ago is trying to cover the walls of my house.
My usual Scrabble partner – Sharon Gerber Scherer – is in Las Vegas with her husband, Rob, celebrating their wedding anniversary. I hope I can find somebody to play with this afternoon! There is always Scrabble Go, an app where you can choose five levels of play against a really mean computer named Zoey. I always play at the top level, Grand Master, and get my butt handed to me about 85% of the time. I have not beaten her in a while, so the law of averages is on my side!
After Scrabble is the last Colina Spay and Neuter Clinic Charity Bingo of the season at Nacho Daddy at 4 pm, this very popular venue closes at the end of June for vacations and will reopen in September. The Texas Embassy Blues Band plays this Friday at 8 pm, and don’t forget, Kevin Anthony and his band present their last show on Sunday, June 20, also at 8 pm. It would be lovely to have sell-out crowds across the board.
I am going to the Open House of Pacific Home on Monday and will have a full report on that retirement/assisted living complex next week. It sure sounds inviting, and the numbers I have heard – which I will verify on Monday – are affordable, and the place looks lovely based on the photos I have seen. Three meals a day, plus snacks, and you can eat with the other residents or in your own large casita. There’s a pool and an animal shelter nearby, oh, and yes, you can bring your dog or cat. There is 24-hour medical care on-site if you need it and places to rent for visiting family. Sounds great, no? I will let you know what I find next week.
I have been sewing a lot these days as my favorite venues are on hiatus, and I have found a use for short dresses made of fabulous fabric and/or patterns… I am showing you a pic of a taken-apart chiffon cocktail dress that I had to buy at the tianguis because it only cost 10 pesos, and I fell in love with the color combinations. As soon as I get it sewn, I will have my fabulous purple mannequin, Mimi (thank you, Kathleen Palmer!), model it for you. The things that keep me motivated, From Here.
Thursday
Yesterday was weird: Scrabble was canceled because I could not find one single person to play with. That’s only the 3rd time in the nearly three years we have been meeting weekly at Qulture. I settled for playing Zoey, the Grand Master computer, and we tied. Hmmm.
Nacho Daddy was full for Colina Spay & Neuter Clinic Bingo! The last one for the season. I will let you know when it picks up again, likely in September.
The mood was festive, especially when Colette Zarry, founder of the free spay and neuter clinic, awarded spring bouquets in thanks to Lydia Damato and Tammy Carruthers Prust. Lydia, for calling the balls every other week and assisting Colette for nearly all of the 13,000+ free surgeries over the years. Tammy is the co-owner of Nacho Daddy with Sean Moore. Their overwhelming kindness in providing the venue, great wait staff – Said and Pingo – a special menu for the players, the air conditioning, Janathan Rios on lights and sound and a floppy mic, and countless tickets for shows as bingo prizes. The Bingo Angels, who never miss a game and tirelessly pick up used game cards, check for wins, setting up and knocking down, and merchandise the table with prizes. All of the above create a special few hours in my life every season. I look forward to Lydia’s adorable silliness, Jana’s vibrating bear hugs, and the crazily appropriate tunes that match called numbers and provoke a one-minute singalong.
Sigh. I will miss you.
I went straight to La Catrina Cantina from bingo, to listen to Gloria Fiona wrap up her set. I am not sure I have ever seen La CC that quiet. I sat with my colleagues from Vallarta Calendar – Kevin and Rob, while Luis Villanueva kicked off Open Mic; I absolutely love his voice, and he is a delight to watch onstage. Armando Chakam was in fine form, but I was there for an Angeloo fix. If you are following along, you know his show on the Isla was cancelled last Sunday due to rain. That nearly happened again! Angel and Oscar, his dad, got caught in last night’s downpour and were a bit late hitting the stage at Catrina.
Angeloo’s third song from his first set was the aria “Lascia Ch’io Pianga” from Handel’s opera Rinaldo. Extraordinary. How this 12-year-old can switch from a dizzying aria that begs the audience in Italian to “let him weep” and run straight into a tune from Guns N’ Roses is fascinating. His playlists are never boring! I was hoping to hear a repeat of a video he posted a couple of days ago by a vocalist I have never heard of – Dimash Qudaibergen, known internationally by his first name. This young Kazakh singer apparently has a range that exceeds Sam Smith’s to the point he has had to rewrite the notes in concert because they were too high. Angeloo, however, can sing them as written. Next time, Angeloo, From Here.
Friday
Happy weekend (nearly). The rain has not stopped all night and, at 7 am, it is drizzling still; it is our earliest start to summer in years.
Speaking of summer, the solstice is tomorrow and will be the longest day of the year. Enjoy if you will participate in any pagan festivities to mark those extra minutes and our eventual slide into darkness.
A month from now, I will be a week away from kissing ‘work’ goodbye and taking a month off. I have written this column, From Here, as a weekly for over a decade and, for the last 18 months, pretty much daily. I can’t imagine not doing it, although I am trying! I am psyching myself up to stop writing (and editing and publishing) for an entire month.
My last vacation was in late December 1986. – nearly 40 years ago. Of course, it was my first trip to Vallarta and we all know how that turned out. Now, I am headed to Sweden with my sister – one of our nieces is getting married in early August. That’s our focus and will include side trips to London, Copenhagen, Helsinki, Cologne, and Brussels. And, lest we forget, my Old Country of Canada, where I have not set foot for 15 years.
I have zero expectations, which is strange for me always micro-managing my time, but it’s a good thing – I cannot be disappointed with anything that happens; I will roll with the punches and try to stay warm and be on time for flights, trains, and boats—other people’s schedules.
And other people’s lives! Yipes! Non-tropical lives. I haven’t lived like a normal person for so long. Maybe it’s like riding a bicycle, and it’ll all come flooding back to me as soon as I set foot on Canadian soil.
I just remembered a funny thing that happened while I was out walking around in my sister’s town of Drumheller the last time I was there. Someone passed me on the sidewalk, stopped, then turned around and, with kindness, said, “You’re not from here, are you?”
No, I am from Vallarta, where the sun shines every day, the streets are cobbled, and there is lots of salt water and, lately, rain. My kitty Bogie will guard my queerly designed house while I am away from it and him. I am from Vallarta, where there are still choices to be made – food can cost a hundred bucks for lunch or next to nothing for a can of tuna and a pack of saltines, and I will be as full afterward. I am from Vallarta, where the community is strong and as easy as breathing. I am from Vallarta, where hugs and/or huge smiles await on every corner from everybody I meet From Here.
