My MVPs

“Living in Mexico will be cheap,” I’ve said to everyone. “My cost of living will be, like, less than a third of what it was in Boston,” I’ve said.

The above statement is easy enough to believe, but I’ll admit that I had my doubts about whether everything would really be as cheap as I thought. A recent trip to Costa Rica, while absolutely perfect in every other way, gave me more of a burn in my wallet than I previously expected. The more painful purchases: 2 separate $26 cab rides, $12 equivalent on a regular-sized bottle of regular-type repellent….and $14 on a small bottle of sunscreen (FOURTEEN!!!). So while “Living in Mexico will be cheap” sounds like a no-brainer, Costa Rica is responsible for my recent lack of faith.

However, the cost of living here has been as advertised. A beer at a bar costs the equivalent of 85 cents. A good-sized plate of food costs $3.50, and you can easily grab some freshly-prepared food (tacos, tortas, soup, tostadas) the size of a meal for 20 pesos, or around $1.70. A cab ride is never more than $2, as long as it does not leave the city.

This is all very good, because I’ve been on a limited budget. The university recently informed us that most of us new teachers will be starting on the first day of classes, Oct. 4^th. Meaning we’ll get paid later on in October. So I’ve been piecing together my new house on a very slim amount of money. Very slim because of a recent airport miscue you may or may not have heard about which cost me $300. You can ask me about it later, because I don’t feel like writing about it now.

I went to the airport on the wrong day. That’s about it.

But on this “very slim” amount of money, I’ve still found ways to buy all that I need. This has motivated me to put together a list of my MVPs (Most Valuable Purchases). I’ve got my cell phone calculator out and ready for conversion rates at 12.7 pesos per dollar, which is why there are some weird prices on the below items. I just want you to know that I’m being very accurate with my pricing.

Fly Swatter, 39 cents: The flyswatter is not on my list because of its cost relative to what I would pay in the states. I know that I could get a functional fly swatter for 50 cents or a dollar. But after a few days of living in my new house, I really needed one. Who would have thought that there were flies in Mexico? Huh. It should also be noted that I made the problem worse by starting a compost bucket right outside my door, one which did not have the right balance of Nitrogen to Carbon and therefore attracted all flies in the area. At my landlord’s request, I started burying all my organic goods in her garden where she has a compost going.

But the fly swatter. I rejoiced at finding one at the “miscellanies” in the area. This rejoicing was nothing compared to what I felt when I christened my new “matamosca” in the blood of my first kill. The fly swatter gives me a form of entertainment when I’m home. There is only one person I know (my Dad) who enjoys nabbing the pests as much as I do. After I got the first one, I turned and gave a fist-pump, holding the pose a lá Michael Jordan in my moment of glory. After another such encounter, I found that I had goosebumps on my arms. Goosebumps, for heaven’s sake. I realized soon after that I needed another hobby.

Bottle Opener, 55 cents: This one is so valuable for two reasons: 1. I’ve never owned one of my own, and 2. I tried to buy one in Costa Rica, but the cheapest one I found was $6 (SIX DOLLARS!!!) for a keyring bottle opener!!! My mom recently bought me a pair of sandals, each of which comes equipped with a bottle opener on the bottom of each foot. Which is tight, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I had a big moment of hesitation the first time I went to open somebody else’s bottle using the bottom of my already-being-worn-footwear. So at 55 cents, this buy benefits everyone! (Note: When being worn, I vow to always use the bottoms of my sandals to open my own beers. Everyone thinks it’s really cool.)

Large chopping knife, $3.54: It’s large, sharp, and doesn’t bend when I try to cut onions. It’s the best knife I’ve ever owned, and it was a steal!

Coffee Mug, 94 cents: I only have one, and since I love coffee so much, I couldn’t do without it.

Powdered Milk, $1.30: I love cereal almost as much as coffee, but I don’t have a fridge to keep my milk cold. For the first time in my life, I can eat cereal without a fridge! More Nutri Leche, please!

The Real Deal

On the day before Mexico’s Independence Day, I was in search of water.

Drinkable water. 19 liters of it, to be exact. A giant jug that I could place in my home, a giant jug that would put an end to my constant purchase of bottled water.

It was the third time I had made this type of trip, wandering my neighborhood in search of something specific. As luck has it, every 4th or 5th house in Miahuatlán contains a variety corner store (“Miscellanies,” literally translated from Spanish). If I were to walk into one and not find what I was looking for, I could walk another block and likely find it on my next stop. But on this search for water, I wanted to find it as soon as possible.

For one thing, I was thirsty. But the wind was also whipping, and three days without rain meant that I couldn’t keep my eyes open with getting dust in them. I walked into the first “Miscellany” that I found, a weary wind-blown traveler from the road, and thought I had walked into a closed shop. The shelves, 5 or 6 reaching up to the ceiling, were well-organized and fully stocked, but looked like they hadn’t been touched in years. A thick coating of dust covered everything in the shop. What’s more, the light was off and nobody was behind the counter. But I saw 4 19-liter jugs tucked away on the floor to my left, so I offered a tentative hello.

Behind the counter and to the left, through a narrow doorway leading to another room, an old man leaned back and, catching sight of me, smiled and invited me up to the counter. As I got closer I saw that the other room was in fact a bar. I asked if I could buy one of the jugs of water. I hadn’t finished the question when another peeked around the partition, this time from the other side of the bar. A man in his thirties, a round, flushed face. “Where are you from?” he asked me excitedly. The old man put up a silencing hand.
“He’s an American, obviously! Can’t you tell by his accent?” He smiled warmly at me, almost apologetically.
“Aaaah,” the younger man mused. His eyes were glued to me as he breathed laboriously through his nose. He was very drunk.

I asked the old man again if I could buy the jug of water, only to be interrupted. “We’re celebrating 200 years of independence tomorrow!” he said to me, beer raised. A triumphant grin on his face. “Do you want to have a beer with me?”
“Well-”
“Come over here! I’ll buy you one!”
“I’m just going to buy some water-”
“After! You can buy some after!”
The old man chuckled silently and waved me over. “On the street, next door over.”

I don’t know how I could have missed the entrance the first time I walked by: a giant set of swinging doors! Saloon style! I pushed them open and approached the bar. The old man was already opening a Corona and placing it on the old polished wood of the bar. A handful of flies droned lazily overhead, taking refuge from the wind. A truck drove past the double doors, blasting mariachi music. This, I thought, was Mexico. The younger man raised his beer to me and said again, “We’re celebrating 200 years of independence tomorrow!” I touched my bottle to his. We certainly are.

The House

I’m going to commit my first entry to my new house.

It’s small (3 rooms), brightly colored (green, yellow, blue and white), and simple. The front door opens to the kitchen, which came with a small table, two chairs, and a stove! Having a stove—even a small mobile one—is pretty rare. The next room, the biggest and most yellow, is a living room. This is where all of my creative energies and (lack of) interior design skills will be put into practice. I hope to have some “after” pictures of the room by the end of the year, so that I can see how much I’ve improved it!

The bedroom is in the back, with a second exterior door which gives to the small, cement courtyard shared by my house and 3 others. Equipped with a large dresser (which I may or may not paint bright green and orange), the bedroom is otherwise white and has a bed. That’s pretty much it.

I’m only renting the house, so I’m certainly not a homeowner, but I sort of feel like one. I patrol the house once or twice a day, taking in the space and thinking of ways to improve it and make it my own. I also am searching for problems, something that needs fixing. One the first rain I searched high and low for a leak. I had made it almost through all three rooms when suddenly; there!; at the base of the back door leading into my room a small puddle was forming. I “HA!”-ed triumphantly to myself and went about mentally grappling with my first challenge. My first course of action was to move my stuff away from the door. #2 was to cross my arms and watch the puddle. “Not too bad…doesn’t seem to be growing too quickly.” Perhaps a well-placed floor mat? C.o.A. #3 was to write down “buy new floor mat” on my to-do list.

Next day I detected a gas leak coming from the back of my stove. This I tackled by notifying my landlord, who brought her wrenches and daughter over. Once again I played the role of surveyor as the two of them tightened the joints and wrapped them in Teflon, nodding my head approvingly with each turn of the wrench. I was on a roll.

The drip under the sink? Tin can below.
Ants? Crush ‘em when I see ‘em.
Boiler with a bad pilot light? Light it by hand in the morning.

Not bad for a first week in the house. Although I’ll probably be seeking a basic repairs class before I take on real home ownership.