So High, So Low

Now, more than a week into our life in rural Mexico, we're experiencing revitalizing highs and demoralizing lows. Luckily, most of the lows are rooted in the fact that we're having some difficulty with our electrical systems-- a temporary problem.

A combination of cloudy days and some strange glitches have lead to a less than perfectly funcitoning solar system. We had to empty out our fridge (luckily our friends Fernando and Maricela down at the Rinconcito cleared out some space in theirs so our food didn't spoil) and we're using candlelight in the evenings until the batteries get a good charge from a nice sunny day. We actually think it's better (always the optimists) that we've had a rough start, so that once the rainy season is over, and we have plenty of juice it should be that much more luxurious to have enough power to listen to music, and run the blender, etc. (Liz just commented on the hilarious dichotomy of me writing this blog post by candlelight..)

On Friday, I was out on the property, clearing some massive overgrowth with the machete, trying to get to a would-be 2nd house on the property (a project abandoned by the previous owner) that is down by the arroyo. Chopping through thick plants, sweat pouring down my body I suddenly heard a buzz that sounded more or less like a lawnmower above my head and a massive flying beetle-like creature landed on my sunglasses and stung me just above my left eye. I retreated to the house, put some ice on it and decided it was time for a swim. About that time the monitor that tells us how our solar panels are doing started beeping and dropped to the lowest level (not good). We headed down to the Rinconcito and Fernando offered his phone so we could give Dan a call, and figure out what to do about the declining power at the house.

Liz talked to Dan, and armed with a plan of action we headed back up to the house, honking at the cows and horses that mingled in our driveway so we could empty out the fridge, and put a few essentials (yogurt, water and beer) in a cooler to keep close at hand. Fernando said that we should come back in a few hours for some dinner, seeing as our kitchen was now empty.
The day before, we'd shared a lunch of freshly caught fish ceviche on the beach with Efren and his family, and there we were sitting down to an amazing meal of carne asada with Fernando's family-- you're Mexican friends will always make sure that you're well fed. Whenever we get down or frustrated the amazing people of Mayto have been there to lift us back up and make us feel great again.

We sat around for a while after dinner with Fernando and Patricia (an American, who now owns an art gallery in Puerto Vallarta) talking and sharing a few cervezas. Fernando loves to tell stories and had us all engrossed in his stories of his family discovering Mayto-- quite literally clearing the land with machetes; crossing the border three times (illegally the first two); working his way up to GM at an Ace Hardware in San Jose; and finally returning to Mexico to open the Rinconcito which is, quite simply, the heart of Mayto. He has possibly the greatest laugh of anyone I've ever met (high-pitched and enthusiastic) and you could see the genuine emotion when he talked about his stressful life in the states and his decision to move his family back to this tiny Mexican village where he'd began.

Around 12:30, we thought the evening was winding down, when Patricia mentioned that she was heading down to the beach to look for sea turtles. There are basically three things on the beach in Mayto: the Hotel Mayto, the Rinconcito, and the Turtle Camp. The turtle camp gets volunteers (primarily Mexican college students) to camp out during the peak season, waking up at 11:00pm, 1:00am, 3:00am, and 5:00am to go out and track down the female turtles who crawl out of the sea, dig a hole with their flippers, lay their eggs, bury them and return to the sea. Once the volunteers find a turtle, or see tracks from one they've missed, they dig up the eggs and protect them back at their camp until the eggs hatch and then release the baby turtles the following morning. Reason being, for as long as people have lived in Mayto, they've also dug up these eggs to make tasty omeletes.

Patricia told us that August is prime season to see the turtles and intrigued, we decided to join her. Fernando said that it was possible we'd have to walk 5 or 6, even 7 kilometers each way before we saw one, so he offered to drive us on his ATV. So we piled on, and drove off down the pitch black, uninhabited beach at 1:00am. Fernando driving, Liz and Patricia on the back and me sitting on the front, dangling my legs to either side of the headlights, so we could spot turtle tracks. Cuervo, Fernando's German Sheppard ran along the side of us the entire way.

We crossed a number of tracks (like a boogie board dragged through the sand, but with flipper imprints on the side) but each time we found both tracks heading out of the water, and tracks heading back in. We had just missed them. Eventually we reached the end of the beach, where a river hits the ocean before the town of Aguilles Serdan, and we stopped for Cuervo to drink some water and get a break before heading back.

On the way back we spotted fresh tracks, but had again just missed one. Feeling defeated, with only about 3 kilometers until we were back at the Rinconcito, Fernando rambling, "tortugas, tortugas, donde estan?" we crossed over another track, we turned around on the ATV, and the headlights illuminated a massive shell, slowly digging down into the sand. Her flippers moved slowly, and deliberately, flinging sand back a good five feet, as she burrowed deep into the sand. We hoped off the ATV, and turned off the lights, lying in the sand next to her as she searched for a safe spot to leave her eggs. Twenty minutes passed, thirty, forty, finally we heard slow grunting and deep, strained breaths coming from underneath the huge, stoic shell.
Suddenly, she popped up out of her shell, and rapidly burried the eggs, and was on her way back to the ocean. It was really something special to sit in so closely on a phenomena of nature that so few get to witness. We marked the nest with a stick in the sand so the Encampmento de Tortugas volunteers would find it in the morning, and we headed back down the beach, Cuervo trotting next to us at 2:30 in the morning.

All week we've gone up and down.

Getting stung in the face----> LOSS.
Freshly caught ceviche on the beach----> WIN.
Losing power at the house----> NOT SO GOOD.
Boogie boarding on great waves----> I'LL TAKE IT.
Waking up to ants having invaded our kitchen----> DAMN.
Nine delicious tacos for less than $5----> EPIC WIN.

All in all, we know that our frustrations are temporary and the happiness and joy we feel will only grow exponentially. I've already worked my way through two books I've been meaning to read for years, and Liz has devoured five. We're working hard on our Spanish, having a great time conversing with new people who expose us to new perspectives and opinions. We're becoming much more self-sufficient and we've already developed a much greater appreciation for all the little things that make life great.

Life is pretty great in Mayto, we desperately miss all of our amazing friends and family, but we know that this experience will be a great turning point in our lives and will allow us to take the next step with greater confidence and certainty.. wherever that may be.

P.S. Turtle pics on the way!

P.P.S: TONY PACE! Thanks for the great email, will be in touch when I have a moment! Thinking about you my friend! Much love.