The cap'n and I were paying our tab at a Mexican Restaurant in Great Bend, KS the other night when I noticed a large map of Mexico hanging on the wall. The map was faded and several cities and towns had been penciled in.
"You don't have Progreso or Chelem on there," I pointed out to the cashier.
"You know Progreso?" he said, obviously surprised.
I explained that we had a casa in Chelem, which is very close to Progreso, and that we spent our winters there.
"There is another couple that lives here in Great Bend that has a house in Progreso", he informed us.
"Really?"
We were incredulous. We know of only one other couple from Kansas, Steve and Mary from Salina, that has had the good judgment to buy property down there. If this kept up the Kansans might be able to steal the expat majority title from those blasted Texans.
"What are their names?" we demanded.
"I don't know", replied the cashier, "but their son, Joel, works at Verizon."
The next morning I set off for the Verizon office with all of our important contact information in hand. Email address, stateside telephone number, Mexican phone #, Magic Jack #, stateside address, a hand drawn map to our house in Chelem. I even included illustrations of all the notable landmarks along the way. The Glorietta (that's what they call a roundabout in Mexico. It sure sounds prettier), the police checkpoint manned with friendly policemen armed with not-so-friendly looking guns, the big piece of rope laid across the road that is used as a speed bump, the coconut stand, uh make that the dozen coconut stands, The Modelo cervaza store, the little red tienda at the turn to our house. There use to be a pole with a rag tied to it and that's how everybody found the way to our house. But in the hot Mexican wind the rag frayed and eventually disappeared. Now sometimes even the cap'n and I miss the turn but that's usually when we're coming from Las Dunas or Playa de Chelem, two of the local drinking establishments.
It was a very nice map. I would have written out our address but I didn't have enough pages of paper for that and they'd never find it because Mexicans have very little regard for street signs. No Necessaria, the locals already know where everything is.
So I went up to the Verizon counter and inquired if they had an employee named Joel. The young man at the counter said, "Yes, but he is with a customer right now. May I help you?"
"No," I said, "I need to talk to Joel."
The young man and his other 14 yr. old counterpart shot me a quizzical look but they assured me that Joel would be just a few more minutes and left me wander about the displays of IPODs, and Blackberries, and other strange devices while the two of them tittered behind the counter trying to figure out whether I was Joel's long lost birth mother or a "cougar" he picked up in a very dark bar while a very inebriated state. Courtney Cox, I am not. Damnit!
Finally Joel finished with his client and I cornered him as he returned from walking her to her car.
"Joel, um, you don't know me and this may seem crazy…um, but do your parents have a house in Progreso?" I blurt.
Blank stare looking back at me.
"Progreso, Mexico? " I offer a little desperately.
Enlightenment dawns on his face.
"My parents have a house in Yoomah,"
"Where is Yoomah?" I ask thinking of all those strange Mayan names on the highway signs. All those unpronounceable "Dz" towns.
"In Arizona," he replies, "Yuma, Arizona. Is that close to Progreso?"
"No," I mumble. I ramble some explanation about a guy at a Mexican restaurant that gave me his name and said he might know someone. It's beginning to resemble a drug deal gone really wrong and Joel is starting to get that deer in the headlights look.
"Here," I shove my map at him, "If you're ever in Progreso, look me up." The guys behind the counter snicker.
I scuttled out to my car, jumped in and busted out laughing at myself.
If you've ever been in the Walmart in Merida desperately looking for an item and have been rescued by a fellow gringo who knows the lay of the land a little better and knows that in Mexico the baking soda is kept in the pharmacy not in the baking aisle, you understand that previous scenario. And you know that by the time you and your savior part ways you will have shared all the information mentioned and probably more. We expats band together, we're brothers and sisters in arms so I guess I was looking to reconnoiter with some fellow soldier
Just for fun, for the next week, I parked in the Verizon parking lot and waved and winked at Joel as he scurried back and forth to his car.
P.S. Dave, I hope you don't mind that I "borrowed" a picture of our sign. I owe you a cervaza if you ever cross over the bridge.
