Distractions

Somedays, it is hard to write without being interrupted and then there are some days when I don't feel like writing. Friday night was one of those nights. We went to dinner with friends at Mare Nostrum, a fine little Italian restaurant run by Brenda and Julio, her husband the cook. I was feeling slightly off and the next day I just wanted to stay in bed in between runs to the bathroom. My friend John Scherber, author of 20 Centavos, said every one gets sick once in Mexico. I took the day off, but freelance writing awaited and I wrote at least 3,500 words on Sunday for clients.

Today, I'm working on an article about the growth of the middle class in the world by 2030 and its affect on real estate in Los Angeles, when the doorbell rings. Carlos, one of the street kids and entrepreneur, asked if I wanted my car washed. "No gracias," I said.

Then I a loud voice going up the narrow street, "Santorini! Santorini, lady, Santorini!" It's the bottled water day. You put out your empty and a young man comes hiking up the street carrying a big water jug. Santorini for 25 pesos or about $1.75 mas o menos, more or less. I say more or less because the peso has been falling against the USD and is currently 15.51 to the dollar. When we first started coming to Mexico it was 10 to 1. That is a tremendous drop in the peso and makes things here cheap for those with dollars. Anyway, our water needs are now met until next Monday.

Another distraction is the weather. I look outside on the terrace and the sun is shining, it is warm and inviting. Of course, there are frequent fireworks, dogs barking, a rooster crowing, church bells tolling the hours (along with our clock by my desk), traffic on Umaran, and my need for another cup of coffee which is downstairs.

Did I tell you I love it all? At evening time Bev and I go to the third level terrace with a beverage and talk and watch the sunset out beyond the two hills to the west. We can see the many-colored houses climb the hills mixed in with the vegetation, hear bells and sirens and marvel at how far we have come from Portland.

Ok, back to Los Angeles. Oops, my coffee is cold.