4/15 … Epilogue

Things do seem to be moving along … the home inspection went well, with just a few small items on the punchlist which got addressed last week.  The buyers’ mortgage appraiser has also been and gone, so presumably that went well also.  If things continue as planned we have a 5/3 closing date, and it will be a great boon to have this chapter tidily closed!

Wednesday, March 28 Most important meal of the day

Tom had kindly left eggs, bacon & bread on one of his plant-watering runs, so we were well-equipped for breakfast.  After sorting out the souvenirs, I drove Linda home and confirmed to my agent to accept the higher of the two responses to our counteroffer.  PHEW!

Tuesday, March 27 Leave the money and run

Well, finally we’ll have to go home.  With all the dithering about the house, I hadn’t gotten down to the pool or shore at all, so Linda and I strolled down early in the morning.  It really was quite idyllic, and we had the opportunity to meet our host who was out paddle-surfing.   

We agreed to meet at 11A and he’d take us to the airport, a pleasant courtesy.  Having double-checked all tickets, passports etc. we’re set to go … except that, rather than the invoice I expected in Pay Pal, our host is expecting us to settle in CASH right then and there.  Yikes!  But it worked out to be PRECISELY the amount of US dollars we had just received from Claudette.  So Linda (our designate banker this trip) goes home with a whopping ONE DOLLAR in her wallet, I have about $20.  Just a little slim.

Leaving the country was pretty easy.  Luggage gets riffled through, we surrender the remaining half of the immigration form we’d completed when entering Mexico, and we saunter off to the gate after purchasing some last-minute remembrances.  The flight to Houston is full, and the immigration line is lengthy but does keep moving.  We were told at the airport that because we were travelling together we’d only need one US immigration form, but that didn’t work as we don’t have the same address.  Poor Linda was left to de-code a form printed in Spanish while I processed into the country.  The big snag?  SANDWICHES!!  Because, you see, we are bringing FOOD into the country.  So I get a monster, Hester-Prynne-worthy, red A on my form and, naturally, we’re diverted for an agricultural inspection.  The first step is to muscle your bag onto a conveyor belt which is too steep for most bags, so you wind up pushing your suitcase uphill until the horizontal belt can catch.  I’m in the process of doing that when the people behind me start loading THEIR bags onto the belt … that was a little close-in but it all worked out.  Then I spend a good 3 minutes explaining to the health inspector about the sandwiches:  yes, they have meat … COOKED meat, from last night’s dinner.  Yes, some are chicken and some are beef.  Oh, the longer one is chicken and the rectangular one is beef.  Yes, it’s all cooked, by us, very recently.  FINALLY we are waved along with dinner still intact.

Now we need to re-check our bags, and then we fall into the food court for a decent table and a decent dinner.  Stand, stretch, head on down to the gate area.  It’s not especially full, but the gate agent is already calling out rewards for SOMEONE to volunteer to go home tomorrow.  She only needed one person or we might have thought hard about it, as the plane was due to arrive at O’Hare just before midnight.  But we do board, with our window/aisle seats, and though the plane is pretty empty, we have a fellow in the center seat.  He’s really, REALLY interested in being re-seated, but the crew understands more than we do … after a small delay from scheduled flight time, the plane explodes with people who have just arrived from Mexico.  A good number are seeking help as they have no English but can see that someone else is sitting in their assigned seat (we were next-to-last row, so we had pretty active supervision about seating).  Eventually everyone does get seated and the plane is utterly packed.  We head northeast in darkness and silence, mostly trying to stay awake.

Arrival at O’Hare was prompt and so was delivery of our suitcases.  The weather was pleasant enough (it had been warmer in Chicago than in Mexico virtually every day we were gone) so we waited outside for the limo that a Groupon was supposed to bring us.  After a while, Linda calls the agency … to discover that the number of our flight had changed, it had not occurred to us to notify them of that … they couldn’t find the flight and no driver is coming.  SIGH!!  Back into the terminal to call a suburban cab, who does come promptly and finds his way into my subtle driveway & underground parking.  He really didn’t want to take payment on VISA, but since that was our only option, eventually he caved.  We rumbled the luggage onto the elevator, rose to 4, padded into the apartment and fell right over.

Sunday-Monday, March 25-26 Helter-skelter, and trains

Well, the absolute story of my life.  My real-estate broker calls with a genuine offer which, truthfully, I was quite ready to simply accept.  He must have put in a call to the broker for the original low-ball bidders after that, though, because the next thing I hear is that they’re stepping up their offer … a LOT.  We decide to counter both offers with the same suggestion.  All this without really functional Internet – we are invited to displace whoever’s doing their PAYING job in the office and utilize that PC, which we do … of course, everything’s in Spanish and despite having watched a successful demo, I can’t get a document to scan and attach.  There’s a fax, which seems to be sending but also is flashing an error message which I can’t begin to decode.  Finally I have the wit to ask Google to translate it – it’s “please fix the paper jam.”  Well THAT was easy enough.  I remind all parties and anyone else who will listen that I will have to make my decision on WEDNESDAY as I’m travelling all day tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Claudette’s friend is driving down from her ranch in Tepic and we have encouraged her to sleep at our pad Monday night rather than drive the twisty, slow road twice in one day (and going home in darkness).  That seemed to be the deal … until Claudette got a call saying be ready in half-an-hour!  So we had a bit of a flurry of packing, sold the remaining pesos to Claudette for US dollars, met the friend and several family members, and stuffed all into the car.  PHEW!

Well, now we have quite a bit of extra chicken for dinner as we had been hoarding for an additional person, and now we have only two.  No matter, we cook up whatever’s left in the larder and save some for sandwiches for dinner during our long layover in Houston tomorrow.  We’ve been playing a fine board game, British Rails, all day long and are sorry to have to fold the board up and pack!

Saturday, March 24 -- vacation, part 3

A frenzy of packing-up; our “personals” were pretty well handled last night, but we had provisioned the kitchen pretty well and it all needed to be packed up as well.  We surely have returned to the 14 (!) pieces of luggage that we arrived with.  Yikes!  The baggage handler did manage to fit it all on his big cart, and checkout proceeded without incident (though why we have to stand in line for our official “release slip” when I settled the account last night will remain a mystery).  An ample vehicle arrived to drive us over to our new (and final!) abode.

We were given only a street name and the name of the condo development; having asked for more detail we were told “It’s on the same street as the etc. Beach Club.”  We did pull that up on the Web, to discover that it’s actually a beach restaurant; this cul-de-sac is the most northerly public entrance to the Nuevo Vallarta beaches.  The bellhop recognized the street, and it seemed that our driver had gotten sufficient information … until he stops briefly at an intersection along the way to inquire of the fellows picnicking on the median.  He must have been given good advice, as we arrived at the end of a street which, ultimately, was our destination.  However, nothing was labeled and he tried one little parking lot; decided that didn’t look right, and pulled up to a massive wooden door with a guardhouse on the left.  He has conversation with the guard, who clearly was not expecting company.  Eventually, backed up by our printout of the confirmation email, our target unit is identified and it’s decided that we can enter.

We’re up on the second level; the driver, of course, offloaded everything onto the curb and went off to find a new fare.  We grabbed something reasonably light and headed upstairs, and were VERY relieved to find we are followed by the guard and another sturdy fellow who rapidly fill the living room with our stuff.  We were quite early by check-in standards, so we fled to the balcony to stay out of the cleaning crew’s way as much as possible.  The couple who owns the place are currently in different places, the husband who handles the listings is on a temporary gig in La Paz.  The wife, a lovely lady, and their small daughter came by to acquaint us with the place and hand over the key.

This is a lovely setting, though the place is quite sterile compared to the heavily-decorated condo on the hillside.  No matter, we are mere steps from the beach and the sound of the ocean rolling in all day and night is delightful.  We overlook the smaller of the two pools here, and tall palms nod within arm’s reach.  We’re bereft of internet access, a mixed blessing but probably a good de-tox for us all.

Friday, March 23 – another walk on the beach

Looks like my given role is to be first up after a late night, who knew?  Up late isn’t usually my best event, but I was out for a beach stroll early this morning.  I was reminded of a brief, happy encounter as we were ambling around the pools earlier in the week, when a woman came up behind me and complimented me on my jeans.  It´s been a long, LONG time since I earned a compliment from behind!

After enjoying breakfast, Linda & Claudette went on down to the lazy river and some poolside reading; I got to work on the next needlework piece … to discover that I’m in need of some recalibration time.  I’m moving from a yarn-based piece to a very fine counted-cross-stitch and found I could barely make out the stitching!  A little concentration on the chart allowed me to determine where I’d left off and I did make a bit of progress, but had to chuckle at myself when, having already removed my glasses, I went to take them off AGAIN to make the close work easier.  LOL!

To simplify our relocation in the morning, we enjoyed a torta using up the remaining eggs.  Well-browned potatoes as the base, with a nice layer of sautéed onions & mushrooms.  Though the pan had no non-stick coating, it generously ceded the eggs when asked politely.  We all made some progress toward packing up, and I went down to formally check out and simplify our departure.

Thursday, March 22 – Rhythms of the Morning, Rhythms of the Night

Having scrupulously filled out the laundry form last night, we call down to have the clothing picked up and suddenly I’m filled with misgivings.  I call the dispatcher to check pricing – Linda had been told 80 pesos for up to 14# of clothes in the wash.  The itemized pricing on the form we’d completed would total to more … a LOT more.  The dispatcher confirmed that if his person picked up the clothes and the form, we’d be charged the rate on the form.  Linda gets back together with the concierge desk, NOW to be told that for 140 pesos we can do our OWN laundry.  This makes much better sense, so we try to cancel the pickup but ultimately the person arrives anyway.  We say we’ve changed our mind, and thanks.
I amble on down to the concierge desk to acquire the tokens, incidentally identifying the location of the lavanderia enroute.  It turns out the price all depends on your status when you made the reservation…whatever.  It’s a WHOLE LOT cheaper than sending it to the fill-out-the-form place.  I am amused to note an astonishingly effective way to eliminate confusion in translation – the token for the washer is clipped off on two sides, making it a rectangle with rounded shorter ends.  The dryer token is a traditional coin.  So … you can’t confuse them because you’ll always wash before you dry, and the dryer token won’t fit in the washer at all.  Cute!!
Back in the room I pack up a few amusements and the clothes and head back to the main floor to launder.  We have 13# so it all will fit.  There are uncomfortable chairs in the small laundry room, but comfortable ones in the elevator lobby, so I just keep half an eye out for traffic in or out of the room.  Everything goes smoothly and we have plenty of clean clothes to see us through our remaining stay and beyond.
I’m beginning to feel the “pressure” of a trip’s last few days … pill boxes are emptying, we have pretty specific plans for all the groceries we have in inventory, we’re doing our last planned event tonight.  On the one hand it seems like I’ve been away from home forever, on the other hand it feels like we’ll be going back all too soon.  And I haven’t gotten NEAR enough reading done compared to my (possibly dopey) goals.  But at least all the periodicals are handled, and I’ve been happy to have Linda & Claudette soaking them up as well.  We left a couple, as well as the first Stephanie Plum book, at the condo on the hillside and expect to leave the second Stephanie at the next condo.  So that’s two not to take home, progress is made.
As the day pleasantly wears on, Linda and Claudette return from the pool deck and we gradually prepare for the evening outing.  I am nonplussed to find ONE MORE PERIODICAL hiding in my tote.  Oh well, something to do tomorrow.
It’s a quick cab to the departure point, and we snag boarding numbers 47, 48 & 49.  This is lucky as they board by even tens!  After chillin’ in the waiting area, with some entertainment by a talented mime, we board the catamaran for the about-an-hour ride to the evening venue.  Drinks are flowing, and a good number of people opt for seats on the front deck.  ERROR!!  The ocean is quite choppy and waves are breaking over the right front corner; the willowy & sultry Italian-esque woman in clinging dress and 5” platform heels and her Latin-esque, unbuttoned-to-the-waist escort are the first to bolt.  Eventually, there’s one mid-grade-school boy and his dad; dad is seated back-to-the-pilot and dry, the son is reveling in the waves, arms outstretched to greet the spray.  For a while.  Then he’s good and soaked and just waits it out beside Dad.

The crew is, of course, chipper and welcoming.  We’re given some time to introduce ourselves to “everyone else on the boat” and we are drilled in chanting “BOAT ONE” – AND given little pink stickers to identify ourselves as members of that team – so that when it’s time to go home we go the way we came.  I am meditating on what the crews must see week-in and week-out … both the evening tours have had an alarming emphasis on learning how to get home while you’re still sober enough to care.
With the lowering skies and splashing waves, the plastic walls are soon pulled down, though I’m on the aisle and still do get a regular misting even 3 rows back.  It’s all good, not enough to get soaked.  There’s no lovely sunset tonight, but the view Tuesday was so magnificent I feel it all averages out.  Once we arrive at the island, it’s a challenge to leave the boat which is rocking a lot.  The crew & land staff are solicitous and helpful and, gingerly, we all do arrive on terra firma again – even our passenger in a wheelchair.  I’m impressed!
As we boarded, we were asked how many would be sitting together for dinner.  There were a number of buffet lines here; we were directed to an upper terrace where several tables-for-3 were laid.  This was a nice upgrade from the Tuesday night “family-style” seating, though in the end we had prime accommodations with our table only partially filled that night.  THIS night, we had a round table which could have seated 4, the empty place was snuggled against the railing so we could look out to sea as we enjoyed dinner.  A competent buffet, if much less than gourmet, certainly as good as one would expect.  And, for better or worse, a welcome break from rice/beans/salsa – it was pretty Americanized fare.  There was a splendid dessert selection, even though we shared we all ate entirely too much of it.
After a relaxed meal period, we meandered around the trails a bit and found a line forming which we HOPED would lead us into the performance amphitheater.  After a good wait, it did; of course you couldn’t get down to your seat without posing for a photo with a couple of costumed accomplices.  We had second-row seats (benches) and were treated to quite a nice show once the obligatory Adirondack-humor warm-up session was completed.  With elements of Cirque de Soleil, Lion King, and Barnum & Bailey, there was plenty to “ooh and aah” over and well-earned applause at the end.
Back to the boat (BOAT ONE!!) and an hour back to port; some amusement provided by members of the crew and a few drafted passengers.  It actually seemed warmer coming back, probably the wind was behind us.  I never needed to put on my windbreaker!  We arrived back in the room and Linda checked her pedometer – a paltry 260 steps?  Oh, yes!  It’s past midnight!  And so, to bed.