BACK AMONG THE LIVING - July 8th, 2006

After only five more trips back to the office, a mere nine phone calls later, just 38 days after my first visit to TELMEX, and ten days after the phone line was installed, I finally got internet access at home! I'll spare you the details. By now, you can imagine what was required.

The addition of high speed internet in the house has totally transformed my life. I'd like to say that it has allowed me to buckle down and be more productive. Unfortunately... Well... Uhm.... Maybe we'd better just stick with it totally transforming my life. So far, the things I'm really enjoying about it are:

1. Skype!!! (I'm not posting the number here for obvious reasons, but if you want to call me on the cheap, email me and I'll let you know how to find me...)

2. ITunes, which has brought Jon Stewart and real news back into my life!

3. Live streaming on MLB.com, which has no blackouts if you are accessing it from Mexico!!!

I'm also working my way slowly but surely through all those emails I haven't been replying to. If you are on the list of people I ought to have responded to in the last few weeks, I'll be getting to it soon! Promise!

All this has raised just one concern. Now that my house has the complete set of utilities, what on earth am I going to talk about here? TELMEX has provided so much material, though I hope they don't provide anymore... Probably almost as much as you do!

The only utility drama I have left is the water. For those of you who've never had to deal with water issues in Mexico, let me explain why this is an area of potential ongoing drama. Like many houses here, mine has no well or water line coming into it. I have a cistern underneath the house that holds a reasonable amount of water. There is a pump attached to it which moves water from underneath the house to a smaller tank on top of the house. Water for the house is supplied through this tank. When the tank on the roof empties, a float turns the pump on and water is pumped up to refill the tank.

It seems as if the tank on the roof always runs out of water when I am about halfway through a shower. The pump comes on, and I stand shivering, soap running into my eyes, waiting for the tank to fill enough to allow me to finish my shower. This system isn’t so bad when everything works. Every now and again, I hit a glitch. Sometimes the pump stops working. It pumps and pumps, but can’t get any water up to the roof. Sometimes the float malfunctions. In this case, either the pump doesn’t come on, or it doesn’t shut off (sending buckets of water pouring off the roof and me scurrying for the switch…). By far the most common problem, however, is that the cistern is empty.
To get it filled up, I have to call the landlady so she can arrange for the water people to come to the house. Unfortunately, her phone is out of service as often as it is in service, but once I get her on the phone and explain the problem, the situation is quickly resolved. Sometimes startlingly so!

Where does this water come from, you ask? Well, in my case, it comes from right next door. The people who live down the road from me are in the business of selling water. Basically, they moved into the neighborhood, bought a house, and drilled a well. Every day, they fill a big truck up with water and go out and fill up people’s cisterns. In so doing, they drain the water table, leaving everyone in the neighborhood to either buy their water or dig a deeper well. Eventually, the water guys need to deepen their well, too. The result is sort of like a cold war era arms race with all the accompanying social tensions.

I’ve learned all this over the course of the last few weeks since my first call for water! The first time I ran out of water, I called the landlady. The first dozen times I called, I got the voice of the TELMEX lady operator, who informed me that the phone was out of service, but please I shouldn’t call anyone because TELMEX was aware of the problem. (I now know that this is just part of the drill… Her phone is always out of service the first few times I call… Which, come to think of it, is probably why I don’t need to call anyone and inform them of the problem.) Just as I was heading to bed, after about three hours of trying to get through, I finally reached the landlady. I explained the problem, and she said that she would call the water people and I should expect them the next afternoon or the morning after that.

Happy to have the issue mostly resolved, I crawled into bed. It was still early, just 9:30 or so, but I had to be up and out in the field first thing the next morning. As I was drifting off to sleep about a half hour later, Kim knocked on my door. I got up.

“Yeah, is everything o.k.?”

Kim said, “Well, uhm, I think there is somebody in the driveway. They’ve been there quite some time…”

I went with Kim into the guest room and looked out the window. It was a water truck!

“At ten o’clock at night?”

I threw on a sweater and shoes and went out front. “Can I help you?”

There were two guys standing in front of the truck. They explained that my landlady called and they were here to put water in my cistern.

We had to shout everything over a barking dog. One of the dogs (Tofi) who runs with our street’s pack used to live in my house. Once upon a time, my house was rented by three astronomy students who were here working on their doctorates at Mexico’s National Observatory (which is a twenty minute walk from my house). They adopted Tofi and she lived here with them for quite some time. When they graduated and went on their respective ways, Zee took Tofi. While Tofi lives with Zee, she seems quite convinced that taking care of my house and keeping it safe and ready for the return of her beloved boys is part of her mission in life. If anybody comes near me or my house when Tofi is around, she goes nuts. On this particular evening, Tofi positioned herself between me and the water men and barked fiercely for the entire 30 minutes that they were here.

All this excitement brought the rest of the grownup dogs out of their beds to see what the fuss was about. Amber and Rambo, a pair of German Shepard sized dogs, ambled up, likely convinced that Tofi was getting more than her fair share of love or treats of something. Amber, always jealous, worked her way in next to me and Tofi. Rambo wandered around, sniffing everything and everyone. Alpha, a big, black, strong dog, emerged and hung around, lurking out in the shadows, keeping a wary eye on the proceedings.

Very few people here like or trust dogs, and the water guys were definitely not happy about my entourage. One of them hung back, his back pressed tightly to the hood of the truck, eyes wide, looking terrified as the dogs sniffed around. The other guy started to fill the tank and then, to kill time, tried to flirt with Kim and I over Tofi’s barking.

Kim asked me to ask him if he knew what the fireworks were for.

(We have fireworks here every night, always for some fiesta or other. And they shoot off firecrackers at the end of the mass. In an area of Mexico famous for its number of churches, there are always fireworks or firecrackers of some sort.)

The water guy rolled his eyes, and said, “Oh, some fiesta or other. The people here have lots. First they pray, and then they get really drunk and shoot off fireworks. You understand what I’m saying? First, they pray… (this is accompanied by a very amusing pantomime of piety) and then they drink… (pantomime of drinking and a bit of staggering to emphasize how much…)”

Kim and I giggle at his acting out the scenario, knowing it is quite true. In spite of Tofi’s barking, he is emboldened by our amused reactions. His eyes light up. “Then they dance! Do you girls like to drink and dance? I like to dance!” He leers suggestively while attempting a salsa step or two.
Tofi gets nervous at this last bit, she doesn’t like salsa apparently, she decides to buckle down and bark like she means it, throwing in a few growls for the hell of it.

“Dance?” I respond. “No, we don’t like to dance. Neither of us ever, ever dance.”

I bend down and tell Tofi what a good dog she is. She isn’t the slightest bit distracted by my pats and reassurances. She is a dog on a mission!

The water man recognizes he is loosing. “That dog, she sure does want to protect you!” he says, laughing nervously. “He,” pointing somewhat unsteadily at his colleague, “is really afraid of dogs.”

“Well,” I answer unmercifully, “she won’t bother you while I’m here. But yes, she takes her job of protecting me and the house very seriously. She is quite fierce about it.”

This didn’t sit well with either of them. They hurried to finish and packed up the hoses. They waved nervously, edged around the dogs, and took off. While they were totally nice, I was very happy to have Tofi there! It was late, and, at that time, I didn’t know they lived in the neighborhood. Never hurts to have a ferocious dog around…

Now I just have to hope they agree to come back next time!

Prostituting Myself for a Phone Line - June 28th, 2006

As you read the title of this blog, some of you may have found yourself thinking, “Well, gosh, Elizabeth! That seems kind of extreme! Surely phone lines aren’t that hard to come by!” But they are. As are TELMEX installation/repair men.

Last winter, Zee’s phone went out. She visited the office on a weekly basis, complaining of no service. Finally after TWO MONTHS, a repairman showed up and started to work on a problem that took him two more weeks to resolve (the connection to the main pole was no longer connected….). She has been telling me for the last four weeks, “I know they said they’d call you in 30 days, but you realize they won’t, right? You are going to have to go in and complain weekly until someone shows up…”

I knew in my heart this was true. I didn’t want to believe it. I don’t have the wherewithal for another seven hours in the TELMEX office. As the thirty day mark approached, a day in the presence of Mr. Bureaucracy was looming. And then a miracle occurred…

Yes, another miracle!

I got in from the field yesterday, hot, tired, and dusty after a day of ethnographic research and student supervision in the village of La Soledad Morelos. After a mango smoothie, I went straight for the shower to clean up. Just after I hopped out of the shower, I heard Kim shout, “Elizabeth, come quick! There is a TELMEX man outside looking at the pole in the street!!!”

I threw on a tank top and skirt, dashed to my lab where I grabbed my installation paperwork, and ran outside.

The TELMEX man was already in his truck, but when he looked up and saw a gringa in a flimsy, low cut tank top running towards him with a look of desperation on her face, he stopped. He leaned out of the truck, leered at me, waiting for me to proposition him.

“Hola, señor! Esta aqui para instalar mi línea de teléphono?” I bat my eyelashes madly, hoping that my bad Spanish is endearingly or adorably so.

Apparently, it works. Or the tank top does. He fixes his gaze firmly on my chest and says, “Well, now, that depends, who are you?”

I give him my name and whip out the work order. “I have my paperwork,” I explain, eyes fluttering and chest heaving.

He pauses, savoring the moment. “Well,” he finally answers, “I am actually here to install a telephone in your neighbor’s house…” He gestures towards Renee’s house. Renee has shown me every kindness and watches out for my house when he is working in his yard late at night. In spite of this kindness, I find myself thinking of ways to sabotage Renee’s TELMEX visit.

Luckily, there is no need. While evil, no good thoughts were running through my head, the TELMEX man, who’s name I later find out is Pedro, starts going through the work orders on his clipboard. He finally finds one that matches mine about half way through the pile of 75+ orders. He looks at it, he looks at me, he looks at my breasts, he looks back at the work order. He sighs. “I suppose I could come do your installation when I finish with your neighbor.”

If I were the sort of woman who jumps up and down and claps her hands to show extreme happiness, I would have. I couldn’t swear at this moment that I didn’t. I was awfully happy. I probably wouldn’t have thanked Pedro more effusively if he had just pulled me out of a pit of rattlesnakes.

I retreated to the house so Pedro could get on with his job. Kim and I pulled chairs up near the door so we could make sure he didn’t drive off. I think he probably thought our motivations were not based on my desire to have a telephone line installed and to not have that installation involve another trip to TELMEX. It didn’t matter. As long as he came back and didn’t leave until I had a phone, I didn’t care what he thought. After about 20 minutes with Renee, Pedro drives back to my driveway. There are dogs everywhere. I currently have seven living around my house and a couple more who visit regularly. He looks around him at the seven dogs and asks me nervously if it is safe to get out of the truck.

I look at the three Marias (three beautiful black lab puppies who are only a couple months old and who have only JUST learned to sit and not bite. Sometimes….), throw caution to the wind, and say, “Oh yeah, they are really, really friendly…” He gets out of the truck. The three Marias go crazy. The older dogs stand around, contemplating barking. I rush in to drag the puppies off Pedro, Kim rushes out to help me. The problem with the Three Marias is that they outnumber any one person, three dogs to only a pair of hands.

Pedro smoothes his hair. I’m afraid he is going to leave, but the puppy love is totally worth two gringas kneeling at his feet, even if they do have armfuls of hysterical black lab. Looking down at us, Pedro sees opportunity. He gets down on his hands and knees and eagerly starts petting and tickling the puppies, getting a few tickles in at the expense of Kim and I, as well.

Inwardly, I roll my eyes. But I don’t have a phone line, yet!

Escaping the puppies (and Pedro’s “accidentally” roaming hands), we return to the house. Pedro makes himself comfortable in the kitchen where Kim offers him a soda. We exchange pleasantries. Pedro decides to teach us some Spanish. “Do you know what niña bonita means?” he asks us.

I try not to groan. I nod. Kim, poor innocent, says no.

Pedro leaps on this. “Ah!” he says, “It means beautiful girl! You are both such beautiful girls…”

This goes on for quite some time. I keep trying to steer the conversation in the direction of telephone lines. Pedro will not be dissuaded. This beautiful opportunity is not going to be derailed by work!

It takes a full forty minutes of flirting before Pedro gets to work. After spending another twenty minutes installing the phone line, Pedro returns for another thirty minutes of flirtation. He gives me a one on one lesson on how to plug my phone into the outlet (seriously…). Finally, he can think of no reason to stay any longer. He presses his cell phone number on me. “This is my number. My personal, private, direct number. I always have it on me! Please call me! I can come and set up your internet when you get it! If your phone breaks, I will come and fix it! We can have dinner, and I can give you little classes of Spanish!” I smile and nod noncommittally, herding Pedro towards the door.

He doesn’t want to leave, but his play has been made. He backs up reluctantly, moving towards his truck, shouting pleasantries and compliments at Kim and I until the last possible moment. Finally, with a sad and lingering backward glance at my cleavage, Pedro drives off in a cloud of dust.

As he leaves, Zee pulls up. She gets out of her car, curious as to what all the commotion has been about. I walk over and hand her Pedro’s cell phone number.

“The TELMEX man was here. Next time your phone breaks, just call this number… His name is Pedro.”