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The Expat… Buying a House, part 2

September, 2005
The Expat… Buying a House, part 2

It’s been almost a month since I wrote the last trip report on house buying here in Puerto Vallarta. I wrote it shortly before I had to leave to go back to California for a few weeks. In the couple of days before I left, we finally obtained the building permit (cost 2500 pesos instead of 500—no explanation). That was fine, tho. It’s still cheap by comparison to California.

On the day I was to leave, a ton of rebar was delivered and a dump truck pulled up and dumped a load of sand and gravel on the street in front of the house. I was a little worried about this because a few nights earlier the street was a river with enough water to wake board on.

This is where I left for 3 weeks. I left everything in Guy’s hands. “Trust is a way of knowing,” as the old saying goes. I had little choice. With Guy, I ran with my instincts, instincts that said he was extremely intelligent and capable and one of the good guys. So far, the instincts are right. When I came back down to PV last night, a lot of changes had taken place at the ol’ homestead. Guy was at the house when I arrived, and so was Gregorio, the maestro, lead man for the sometimes 2, 3 or 4 man work crew. I could tell from their faces, even before I looked at the work, that things were going well. The smiles were real.

All of the sand and gravel on the street was gone, carried up 2 and 3 floors to the work areas. A mass of bricks for the roof wall are also up top. The rebar was all used up and the whole framing structure for the third floor roof was poured and in place. Damn, it was starting to look like the house I had dreamed of when I described to the architect what I wanted to do. The first stairway is in place and usable but not finished yet because of the heavy traffic that needed to go up it for the roof work.

Today, my second day back in PV, more rebar and the wooden framing for pouring the top floor/roof are being delivered. Heavy material delivery in PV is fast and efficient. We chose (actually, Guy and Georgio chose…) a materials place out past Pitillal for its price and fast delivery. We’ll be using a cement delivery truck with a tall extension for pumping the cement up and over the electric lines to the forms on the top floor. High-tech combined with manual labor on this project. I usually just use manual labor in my work, so this combination is amazing to me.

I’ve contracted only for the rough work in this project. I’ll still need to find masonry finishers and tile setters to complete things. I’ll also need to hook up with some metal workers for windows, doors and railings. I’m starting to wonder if the house will ever be ‘finished.’ With every project stage completion, I think of new things to do.

In PV residential areas, you can build up only 3 floors, but you can make the roof of the third floor a terrace, which I am doing. Some of the neighbors are a little worried about a building this tall (most buildings in the area are two stories). But they seem to be not more upset than anyone is when something new happens in their living space.

In this part of Mexico, house walls are shared and you are sometimes more than neighbors with those living next door. In this case, all of the people living on the south and east sides of this house are closely related. It’s one big family. The west side of the house is the street and the river and the north side is the house of the woman who runs the hot dog stand across the street at night.

The house originally had windows on the north side but they are plugged up because you need permission from the neighbor adjacent to put in windows if they overlook their living space. Apparently Sergio, the original owner of this house, didn’t get that type of permission and had to plug the windows at some point. This seems like a good law since I would want my privacy protected if someone started building a high building overlooking my place.

On my last day here in PV on the last trip, I found out that I had some type of legal concession right to the land on the river bank across the street from my house. All of the other neighbors have little food stands there. I was thinking of a bagel stand since I can’t find any good bagels in town… My sister-in-law makes bagels commercially and I’m going to visit her next month to try and steal some trade secrets.

My name is Rick, but that doesn’t translate well into Spanish so I end being called Ricardo or Rikii (sp?): “Ricardo’s Bagels” or “Bagels Ricardo” If you see a small bagel stand alongside the Cuale River with one of these names on it, that’s me. I’ll have to be in disguise, tho, since I can’t legally work a bagel stand here. I can own it, but half the fun of it would be working it.

This reminds me of another place I was looking at to buy here in PV: a beautiful 8 room mansion in a really lousy location out by the town cemetery. The only use I could possibly see for this place was as a brothel. I always had dreamed of being a pimp, but major parts of my head and/or heart always disagreed with the concept. Other parts of me (not my head) liked it… One night at the CyC bar down on the beach, after a bit of talking, etc, I think I remember a friend here, Juliana, offering to be the Madame if I bought the place.

The Expat a Year Later… Buying a House

August 2005
The Expat a Year Later… Buying a House

A lot has happened since I wrote the last two ex-pat trip reports. It’s a year later now and I’ve made the jump and bought a house in PV.

Some of the trip reports that I had filed in this last year were lost when the VallartaScene board where I was publishing these reports was hacked in the spring, and so many things have changed for me, mentally and physically, that playing catch-up is almost an impossible task.

I had rented an apartment for a year to see how I would adapt to life in Mexico and to see if this was the place I really wanted to be. It is.

I’ve flown back and forth from San Francisco to PV at least once a month during this last year because I still had to work up in California. I felt a lot like some of the kids I’ve met here who cross the Northern border for a few months to a year to make enough money to get by down here for an equal amount of time. I admire their persistence and ingenuity and bravery for heading off to a foreign country to earn extra money for their families.

I get lonely when I’m down here alone, away from my family for even a couple of weeks, so I can imagine how they must feel being away in a strange land for months.

A little background: I’m 60 years old. I’ve rarely had a ‘normal’ job, mostly being self-employed as a treasure hunter, smuggler, graphic artist or ethnobotanist for at least 40 of those 60 years.

I probably won’t get US Social Security because I’ve never really been in the system. I’ve lived most of my years in the US but did not really participate in it. In some ways, this makes it easier to move to a different culture: If you don’t feel like you’re part of your birth culture, it’s a lot easier to fit into others, or at least to know how to navigate them.

I like Mexico. The people here are a lot like the people I was raised with in San Jose, California. I lived in the East Side of San Jose, which was back then the Mexican ghetto of the area. All of my neighbors and school friends were Mexican. I never learned how to speak Spanish, tho, because all of my friends from back then didn’t want to speak their parent’s language. They were ashamed of their culture. God, I see so many parallels between them then and me now.

It’s been about 3 years since I knew I was leaving the US. I became so totally disillusioned and disappointed in the Iraq war and with the corruption of the US government and the cowardly behavior of the citizens who went along with every insane proclamation of their President, that I couldn’t stand being called an “American” any longer. I know this is an extreme reaction and not all that common, and everyone has their own reasons for emigrating, and this is one of mine. Emigration is not a simple matter if it’s voluntary. I have many reasons for leaving. I have many reasons for arriving.

I also like the weather, the food, the land and sea and the people. There’s a spirit here that resonates with mine. Part of this is because I have always been on the outskirts of the law and part of it is because I share a lot of the same basic values and world-view. The major value I don’t share with a large number of people here is religion, but I do share some of the spirituality behind that religion. On a shallow level, I love the churches with the candles, sculptures and stained glass windows. On a political level, the only religious leaders I’ve ever seen that had any balls (or guts) were certain Catholic priests and nuns who stood up to the injustices they saw. Many gave their lives. Most preachers of other religions just promote the status quo.

So, that was the background.

For a year (off and on) I lived in a rented apartment on Aquiles Serdan in Old Town Vallarta. Friends came down from the States to visit. I made friends here. I began thinking of selling my house up in California and my business and setting up a permanent home here. With each trip it became harder and harder to get on that plane heading back to the States. I was getting very depressed when I was there. It was obvious to my family and friends that my life was over up north. All I thought about was what I was doing down here.

So I started looking for a place to buy.

Everything is for sale here in PV so finding places wasn’t hard. Finding a place that I could afford and liked was.

Lots of people are buying places, fixing them up, and selling them to gringos for grossly exaggerated prices. Any place that has stucco on the whole of the outside of the building and a cutesy “Casa —“ plague on the doorway probably fits into this category. Gringos like smooth stucco, one contractor told me, “It fits their fantasy of what Mexico should look like.”

The only requirements I had for a house was that it either be near the beach or the river. And I wanted a multiple story house because I had fallen in love with the roof-top terrace on the place I had rented. The multiple story requirement is easy in Mexico because most city houses are built that way or at least have rebar columns sticking up above the roof in anticipation of skyward movement.

The requirement of being near water is more difficult (expensive). The place I chose was on the River Cuale, but upstream in Colonia Buenos Aires. I had been told to avoid that area because of the crack heads, etc, but I usually take those types of warnings with a grain of salt. I’ve been called derogatory terms like that many times, myself, and I know what it means: People who are not friendly to or similar to the ‘normal’ people of the area. As it turned out, I haven’t seen any more dopers here than in other parts of town. Somebody must have been hallucinating.

I bought a fixer-upper for $50k (US) from a guy who was getting divorced and kept putting the house on and off the market. There seems to be a tendency here in PV for the owners of houses to not be sure that what they are offered is enough. They’ve been ripped off by gringos and landlords for too long to trust any offer and they are afraid of being ripped off again.

Finally Sergio signed the papers. I don’t know if I ripped him off or not. I just didn’t have more to spend and his was the only house in my price range with enough of the features that I wanted.

The things wrong with the house are that it’s on a main street (traffic sounds) and it had a leaking roof and a second story that wasn’t completed. Sergio was in the midst of remodeling the house so there were a lot of unfinished “concepts” but I had my own concepts that would overshadow his.

The bottom floor is livable, but I wanted height. I had to buy furniture and appliances and spent a couple of weeks running around comparing prices and finally settled on the place that seems to advertise the most, Mueblas Blanquita (a note from the future: this store does not honor guarantees without a great deal of force being applied), on the street behind Leys Grocery Store. They have a good selection of appliances and their cash price is lower than even WalMart, plus they deliver immediately for free.

Did I forget to mention that I don’t speak Spanish? This is a handicap, for sure. I’m learning, but things are difficult at this stage.

I decided to start immediately on adding a third floor to the house and I hired Guy the Orchid Guy to be my contractor and translator. So far, it’s working out great. He’s gotten the architect to draw up plans and we’re supposed to pick the building permit up on Monday. We were supposed to pick it up last Friday, but that didn’t work out… Hope Monday works.

The architect that Guy hired also happens to work in the building permit office, so that was a plus. The architect charged 4000 pesos for the plans and the permit, itself, was 500 pesos. I’m putting prices in here just to show approximate costs. This project isn’t finished yet, so maybe if things work out well, people may be able to get some help from it and if they don’t work out well, maybe they’ll get even more help.

The cost that I hadn’t expected in buying a house was almost $7000 (US) for the notary and bank charges. This still seems excessive to me and if I buy something else here, I’d look for a different notary and bank. I still don’t have the paperwork from the bank for the place, but most people say that this just takes time. Seems like a long time, tho. It’s been 4 months since I paid for the place. Maybe this is where I get screwed. Or maybe it’s just where I slip into gringo impatience.

Guy has also arranged for the workers for the construction and they’ll start as soon as the permit is in our hands. He also priced materials and will arrange for delivery as needed. I feel a tad like a babe in the woods here, but with my alien inclinations, I have no choice but to trust someone local. Guy has also helped in getting the phone installed and in getting the electricity and water changed over to my name. There were technicalities like the wrong address on the electric company’s bill that had to be fixed. Patience has worked well with problems so far.

I hope I’m not jumping the gun here.

I intend to continue these reports on a regular basis as things progress.

An Expat story » Second Week as an Expat

August 2004
Second Week as an Expat

It’s been a long day.

Finished most of the necessito repairs on the house this morning. The hot water works, the Internet works, the TV works, the sewer works. Still don’t have any locks on the doors, but that will come.

Found a fellow botanist in town, an orchid guy, and went to his place to see his operation. Pretty nice. He really knows his stuff. Made arrangements to go out with him on a collecting trip in a few weeks. Should be extremely interesting, hiking the back mountains, searching for the rare plants he peddles. Part scientist, part bandit: I can relate to him.

Then went to WalMart to buy a TV. I know that the popular sentiment is to shun the tube, especially here in paradise, but I’m a media junkie. While in college I was a radio DJ for a short time and then worked in journalism for a few years. Then I worked at a Public Radio station.

Something about the media intrigues me. I also know that you’re supposed to hate WalMart, and I do because it’s so tacky, but it also has some bargains and I’m a bit of an opportunist when it comes to economics. WalMart lets you pay in US $$ and gives you the highest exchange rate possible at the time. Seems to be higher than easily obtainable even in the banks. They’re obviously courting us Gringos.

I find myself eating a lot less here in Vallarta than back in the States and I like more of what I’m eating. I drink a lot more water here, too. And some might say a tad more alcohol. I’m not sure about that, tho.

And I am a lot more active. At first I thought that my penis was larger here than in the states, and it is, I guess, and that’s probably from escaping the cold. You all know what cold can do to a penis… This is just a casual observation and it doesn’t really relate to the observation about being more active. It’s like the observation I also noticed about feeling a little ‘high’ all of the time. Mentioned this to a Canadian expat here, Fox, today and he explained it (from a pilot’s perspective) as the increased oxygen available here at sea level compared to the high altitude I lived in back in the States. More oxygen to the brain, he claims.

I’m not sure if I believe this theory or not. I’ve never been able to accept as gospel any theory that leaves a few holes to be questioned. From this statement, I guess you can tell I’m not too religious.

Stopped by some furniture stores today and didn’t see anything I liked except at one consignment store where I saw a 6’ tall carved wooden statue of a Spanish ‘jefe’ with a bottle in one hand and cigar in his mouth, with one foot on a human skull. Sarah said she’d buy it for my birthday. It was beautiful, but I can see why it was still in the store at such a low price. Might be a bit pedantic for most people.

Walked by the south-bound bus station on Basilio Badillo and the timeshare shark on the corner yelled across the street, “Hi, Mendocino!” He remembered me from 6 months earlier when I had talked to him about when he lived in a town near my hometown in Mendocino. Pretty nice guy. Timeshare is a disgusting business but it seems to attract quite intelligent salespeople.

This evening Sarah and I went to Langostino’s on Los Muertos Beach for the VallartaScene “Board Meeting” to meet JR and Juliana and whoever else from the board showed up. Mike and his wife, Candy, from Portland, were also there. Seemed like Juliana or JR knew every other person who walked by.

The margaritas were effective: I got up the courage to head over to CyCs next door to see if my arch enemy, Howard, was there. I won’t bore you all with the melodrama here, mainly because I don’t understand it, but Howard is the single person most responsible for the creation of the VallartaScene Forum because he basically had me run off of the other Puerto Vallarta board. And then he published on his private fishing equipment (!?!) bulletin board a link to an article written about me by an ex wife.

I suppose he thought it would ruin my reputation… Good luck in your crusade, Howard. The Ex’s story is a fairytale compared to my real life. If this guy ever finds out who/what I really was, he’ll see how petty his attacks against me to this point have been.

Don’t ask me: I haven’t a clue what bug is in his pants. I’ve never even met the guy.

Anyhow, the plan was to walk up to him and put my arm around him and have Sarah and JR photograph us so I could blackmail him by implying an association with a known undesirable.

Didn’t work. He wasn’t there. He must have heard that we were coming. Instead, I gave a rose bought from one of those ‘street kids’ selling WalMart roses all over Puerto Vallarta to Brenda, the founder of the board that I was run off of. I’ve always liked her. Don’t see why she wastes her time with the Howards of the world, tho.

To ease my disappointment over not getting the photo-op with Howard, JR promised to give me a stock photo of him so I can Photoshop us together. This is enough gossip for one day. Gossip seems to be big down here.

I had thought that by moving to a new country I could be finally rid of having to deal with mean spirited idiots like Howard, but I was wrong. Idiots are everywhere. But so are people worth knowing.

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