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Thing didn't work out in Mexico so we moved home to Colorado. Penasco is a difficult place to live. We made some good friends, ate some amazing food, and had a great learning experience. In a few weeks I'm going to pull this blog. The name "Colorado Misadventures" doesn't have the same aliterative ring. My wife and I aren't sure where our next adventure will be, but we'll keep you posted.

Hey, mister! Change? You got change?

I know we're leaving soon, but this is a topic I've been meaning to address for a while now.

Last night I about lost it. My lovely wife and I went to Xochitl's in Cholla Bay for some of the best pizza I have ever had. Literally. We make sure to eat there at least once a month. If you ever come to Peñasco, you HAVE to eat there. Anyway, the bill came to just over 200 pesos. My wife gave the server 300. For one, he had the audacity to ask if we wanted change. Um, you pay for food and tip for service. The food is worth every peso. But, I'm sorry to say, the service doesn't justify a 50% tip.
Then, when the server came back he asked if we had anything smaller than a 100 peso bill. Seriously? You run a restaurant! This is a Friday night! You can't break a 100? That's 7 bucks! My wife searched her bag for some spare pesos and came up with 20 in smaller coins. While she was digging in her purse I asked the server why Mexicans have difficulty making change. He gave us some BS about doing business in dollars because it's a tourist town. That still doesn't explain much because they have the same problem with dollars.
Xochitl's isn't the only place that does this. We have similar issues at the grocery store. If you try to pay with a 500 for groceries that total between 300 and 400, the checker asks if you have something smaller. Smaller? Like what? That all-elusive 368 peso bill? Yes, I do have smaller bills. In fact, I could pay the exact amount. However, I want to keep those because when I go out later, my taco bill will be smaller (say, 80 pesos) and nobody else will have change either. You're the biggest grocery store in the city. Learn how to make change!
For this last month, just to be a jerk, I am going to use bills in the largest denomination possible.

By the way, I'll give you a thousand bonus points if you can name the movie from which I got this post's title.

Moving Home

After much consideration, my lovely wife and I are moving back to Colorado next month. We have enjoyed our time south of the border, even if it is only 60 miles. Hey, south is south. Things just didn't work out. For those few faithful blog followers, look us up when you're in the neighborhood. We'll grab some falafel, croissants, chocolates, or whatever. Anything but Vitamin T. At least for a while.
I'll probably have a few more posts before we roll out, but I'm not making any promises.

Noise Ordinances - Or Lack Thereof

I’m up. It’s 2:00 AM and I’m pondering the finer points of Penasco’s noise ordinances. Why? Because my neighbors are having a party, they’re blasting their music, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. I like Shakira. I really do. She’s a wonderfully talented artist - and easy on the eyes. I simply prefer to enjoy her music at 2:00 PM instead of at this ungodly hour.
For now I ask rhetorically, “How do I get a little peace and quiet?” Because based on my experience living here, if the city has a noise ordinance, nobody enforces it – especially on the weekends. I consider walking over and making a polite request to turn down the volume but I’m afraid I’ll just get invited to stay.
I understand these people work hard during the week and like to cut loose whenever they can. Great. Bueno. Whatever. I’m with you. In the immortal word of The Beastie Boys, “You gotta fight for your right to party.” But how about a little consideration for those of us that have to work tomorrow?
And I know these people aren’t being malicious about the noise. They really aren’t. This is a cultural difference to which I have to adapt. I’m a guest in this country. God knows we don’t need to fuel the ugly American fire. For now I’m trying to embrace my inner Mexican and learn to sleep with Banda in the background.

Been a While

It’s been a while since I posted anything. What can I say? I’ve been busy. Haven’t you? Here’s a brief update.

My wife finally moved down from the States. Let me tell you, 2 ½ months living in separate countries absolutely sucks. I can’t imagine the stress military couple face. Kudos to those who keep it together through long deployments.

I’ve taken up beach combing. Peñasco (I finally learned how to make that squiggly mark over the ‘n’) has no entertainment. Mostly I collect sea glass since Cortez doesn’t have much else but garbage on its beaches. I’m up to about 20 pounds. Mostly I have broken bits of brown beer bottles. How’s that for alliteration? I joined an on-line group of sea glass enthusiasts. A lot of them do jewelry. I’m not into jewelry, but some of it is really cool. I’m going to start making leaded glass projects out of my pieces. Pics forthcoming. I joined the group because I found some rare colors and I wanted to find out just how rare they are. Apparently black/grey sea glass is exceedingly rare. So far I’ve found 4 pieces. Lucky me!

The weather has started to warm up. It’s about 80 degrees during the day. My wife went home for a few weeks and returned last night. She said there’s a noticeable difference in the temps and humidity since she left. I didn’t notice. In another month or two this place will be hotter than blazes! This Wyoming boy is NOT looking forward to that.

I'm on my sister-in-law's $#!% list. Let me give you some background before telling you why. For the past year, she and my brother have been in the process of adopting two little boys. These boys are two of the coolest kids around. This weekend they were in Phoenix visiting my parents and I drove up for a long weekend to see them. As any responsible parents do (or should do), they have been teaching the boys appropriate behavior. My short day and a half with them may have set them back a few months.
It all started with me looking for a cool gift. After all, I had to give them something cool to buy their love. Don't all healthy relationships work that way? Besides, they recently celebrated their birthdays and I missed them. Yeah, that's my excuse. So I went to the tourist market to find something cheap. I have expressed to my wife on numerous occasions how amazed I am that they all can sell the same stuff and somehow eek out a living. I didn't know what I was looking for, but knew it would jump out at me when I saw it. After 20 minutes nothing stuck out as THE present. Then I saw them. Every mischievous boy's dream come true. Cheap, Hecho En Mexico sling shots! Oh, yeah! I'd arm my newhews with BB gun precursers. All little boys need a sling shot in their back pocket. How else will they defend their forts and club houses?
My brother and sister-in-law both had that "oh-no-you-didn't" look on their faces. It was priceless! The boys didn't quite know what they were at first, but they figured it out in a hurry. Mom took no time in laying down the law. No shooting at houses, people, cars or animals. Geez mom. Take all the fun out of it, why don't you. What's left to shoot? My brother said he's getting my kids stuff that requires batteries.
The fun didn't end with the sling shots. Monday we went swimming in the pool. I had also gotten the kids a big, inflatable turtle, which we just had to christen. The water temperature was 60 degrees. Pretty chilly, so mostly we sat in the hot tub. Luckily the turtle is big enough to hold two squirmy boys without getting them too wet. On one momentous occasion, the older boy was sitting on the turtle alone while my sister-in-law held it near the side of the pool. Uncle Sel told the younger boy to push his mom into the pool. We all got a kick out of watching this 3 year old try to shove his fully clothed mom into the deep end. Even with him putting his weight into it, he was just too small to be effective. Then he caught her off guard. She jumped head first onto the turtle and he toppled in after her. We fished them all out of the pool and then laughed until we cried.
When I said my goodbyes Monday evening, my sister-in-law punched me instead of giving me a hug. I guess I desesrved it.
Did I learn my lesson? Yes.
Am I likely to do it again? Absolutely!

Ain't Got No Rhythm

Last night I drove around a part of town I usually don't visit. There's nothing wrong with it. It's not the red light district or anything (Penasco doesn't have one of those), I just don't have a good reason to go except to say I went. I thought maybe that part of town might have some night life. It didn't. And I wasn't too surprised. My expectations have settled a bit this past month. Can you tell? Anyway, I made a loop back to a main street. My window was rolled down so I could hear them before I saw them. Snare drums. Lots of them. Too many to be that Navy drummer(s). But it was about 7:30 PM. What are a bunch of drummers doing outside this late? Then I saw them. They were marching. Or trying to. I've never been in marching band. Our high school band director expected blood from his students. I preferred donating my blood to the hand cracks of The Island or the Bridge Bands, our local climbing hangouts. But I still know a good marching band when I see one. And this was not one of them. I guess that's why they practice. They all wore reflective vests, which made them look like construction workers - construction workers with no rhythm. I thought it was amusing, so I took pictures. They turned out blurry. Sorry.