Magisterio

Hope Road is muddy and deeply rutted from the heavy summer rains.  Our drive is laborious, our snail’s pace symbolic of the long road of transformation experienced by the families living and working at the transfer station at Magisterio, a village on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta.

This seems an unlikely place for the new construction of a 70+ unit apartment building, an adjacent community center, classrooms, laundromat and soccer field/basketball court.  Rounding a curve in the road the project looms up, its juxtaposition as powerful as the hope of the aspiring tenants. The work accomplished by the non-profit Families at the Dump since my visit in April is amazing.  (www.familiesatthedump.com) The Foundation has worked for years to break this cycle of poverty, a testament to their constancy and dedication. Kids are sponsored in school, adults are learning new job skills, micro-loans are providing small business startups, a daycare center provides lunches, kids are engaged in art and games at the activity center, a computer classroom connects them to the world. And sometime within the next year families who have demonstrated the greatest desire to change their lives, who have applied themselves and focused their hearts and minds on a better life will leave their shanties and move into these new apartments with running water, toilets, refrigerators, cooktops, tile floors, ceiling fans, beds to sleep in, chairs to sit in, a table at which to eat, doors and windows, and walls that don’t flutter in the wind or leak during torrential downpours.

I volunteered at the community center on a hot, humid day when there was a lot to do.  Four of us spread the load.  We served lunch, a pasta salad that we scooped up and slathered on tortillas, to about 50 kids but only after inspecting the small hands of each child confirming that they had used the wash station outside the lunchroom. 

We washed dishes changing the cold, soapy water several times, re-using the plates so that everyone had a meal.  For some, it would be the only one of the day.  We spent time in the activity center making Halloween masks, with the kindergarten class learning numbers, and joined the middle school kids for belly dancing and yoga before they left for their afternoon sessions. In the coming weeks, I’ll be teaching English during the morning session. 

 

Once again, I left this amazing place awed by the strength of the human spirit and the fundamental goodness of humankind.  

Passing debris

It’s called “debris”.  The shifting winds, big swells, and torrential rains resulting from a cyclone that passes nearby but not close enough to cause real damage.  Well, its 9:00 Saturday night and we suddenly find ourselves in the debris field of a cyclone.  Its 86 degrees in the cabin; two oscillating fans blow the warm air around and trick us into thinking that we’re cool.  Heavy rain sounds like tap dancers on the cabin top; some of it bounces through the open portholes; some of it pings sideways into the cockpit.  Lightning flashes.  Thunder claps.  Wind gusts create a welcome breeze.  In the aft cabin, we hear the distinct plopping of raindrops crescendo into a rivulet, discover a leak in the hatch and place a bucket on the floor.  The stream becomes constant and quickly piles up in the bucket.  It’s a torrent outside.  I’m nervous and patrol down below for more invading rivulets.  Suddenly at 9:30, the only audible sounds are the whirling fans and occasional drips.  Outside, a fine mist hovers around the canvas.  The wash down is complete.  Depending on location, rain measurements for the 30-minute deluge are from 1-1/2 to 2 inches. 

We're back!

In early October, we arrived to the oppressive heat and humidity of Puerto Vallarta.  After crossing the border at Nogales, we bounced our way down 1,200 miles of Mexico’s finest highways. We paid $100 US in tolls for the privilege of dodging potholes and driving on narrow lanes without shoulders.  We stopped at our favorite campgrounds: San Carlos in the desert, Los Alamos in the mountains, and Mazatlan in the tropics.  All were practically deserted leaving us feeling a bit lonely and realizing that we were a couple of weeks ahead of the southerly migration.  We saw just one other RV which was northbound.    

We were relieved to find that Gitane was well-cared for during our summer absence.  Down below, the dehumidifier kept her dry, mold was non-existent, and she was free of bug infestation.  Now, the hard work begins to get her seaworthy for our second season cruising Pacific Mexico.

We work into the early afternoon when it gets too hot and humid to move and we head to the pool.  Our long work list is evaporating:  We ordered the refrigeration compressor, furled the sails, turned the dingy engine into an art project to deter banditos, added big dingy wheels for those tricky beach landings, provisioned, emptied the water tank of the vinegar and refilled it three times, changed the oil in the Yanmar, and plugged in the navigation equipment. Whew…so far so good.