I have to confess our collection of maps is pretty haphazard, which may be why none of them seems very satisfactory — leftovers from a vacation fifteen years ago, giveaways that came with Mexican insurance, city maps of places we have lived or shopped, a large map of todo Mexico coated in tequila-resistant plastic, and an ancient, crumbling AAA map with an irreplaceable driving distance inset.  We do not own the finest examples of Mexican cartography.  And of course the older maps don’t reflect the enormous amount of road construction which has been done in recent years.

With that in mind, I’ll say that I’ve noticed numerous inconsistencies among these various maps, and it is always a comfort to be able to consult a second source.    The presence of secondary roads on a given map seems to be a complete crapshoot, so if you’re off the beaten path be especially sure to have a few.  Inaccuracies are also common;  I’ve seen roads shown going through towns miles distant from the actual ones.  Visual representations can also be misleading; on the map it appears you need to turn left at the junction to get to X, whereas in fact you must go straight, and you would have to make a hard right to stay on what appears to be the same road on the map.  If you get my drift.

When in doubt, ask a local.  It’s always safer than depending on maps, or signs for that matter.

At first I found these guys annoying and even pathetic, but I’ve come to realize that they perform a vital service and we always tip them.  All the hand-waving is just theater; what they really do is prevent the theft of your car and its contents, and it’s well worth the small cost.

How much to give them?  For basic hand-waving and being there, the Mexigringo tips three to five pesos, more for special jobs.  A special job would be for example having a bunch of construction material tied on the top of your truck and needing someone to guard it while you go into the store.  In this case one would personally ask the viene-viene to watch it, and tip him 10-20 pesos on leaving.

On rare occasions you may encounter a parking lot which does not have a viene-viene, in which event we recommend parking close to the entrance or some other heavily-trafficked area, and getting back to the car as quickly as possible.  These are the times you realize the viene-viene is truly worth his weight in gold!

Sometimes a viene-viene may even appear as if by magic on a busy street when you’re trying to maneuver into a difficult spot.  This might simply be a manifestation of Mexican male courtesy and no tip would be expected.  On the other hand, it could be a viene-viene whose turf is a few parking spots in front of a particular restaurant or shop.  You’ll need to gauge from his attitude whether a tip is appropriate in a case like this.  If he’s still hanging around when you return to your car, you’ll know he’s a viene-viene.

The Rocket Stove

I found out about this concept looking around on the internet, and being a big fan of all things innovative and sustainable, promoted it enthusiastically to the Mexigringo, who I must say looked on it with a rather jaundiced eye from the first.  But I persisted.  It promised one-third the fuel consumption of a conventional wood-stove, clean and thorough wood consumption, a warm, comfy, and architecturally appealing adobe bench to read and snooze on, plus, cheap and easy assembly!  What more could you ask?

It really did seem like a great solution.  We wanted something efficient because of our large space and high ceilings.  Wood is available but not plentiful here, so the promise of low fuel consumption appealed.  The back of the how-to-do-it book asserted that it could be thrown together in a weekend by anyone with minimal building experience.  And, we already had a huge pile of adobe construction rubble on site which could be recycled into the bench.

So we built it and now it’s winter and we’re using it.  And have somewhat sadly concluded that doing this in Mexico was way more trouble than it was worth.

For starters, the materials, so easily obtainable and often free in the states, ranged from difficult to impossible to find here and involved literally weeks of searching hither and yon.  They were also expensive.  Nothing goes to waste in Mexico:  An old barrel is not a throwaway item but a valuable asset to be parted with only in exchange for cash.  The only freebies were the dirt and sand, which are plentiful locally.  There were no “cheapies.”

The stove took us WAY longer than a weekend to build, more like three weeks all told, and that’s not counting the bench, which we finished months later.  The book’s breezy assertion that any idiot could do this left us feeling like, well, lower than idiots.  In practice, the how-to instructions often proved vague, contradictory or open to various interpretations, leading to much lost time and interpersonal strain among the construction crew.   At some point we realized that no information was given on how to finish the surface of the bench — that was in another book.  One of our cats decided the unfinished bench was a giant kitty box, and we had to cover it over with tarps and weights.  It was not an easy journey, any of it.

Upon using the stove, it appears to be mostly suitable for colder climates than ours.  It’s meant to be fired up on a daily basis, which warms the adobe bench, which then radiates a steady warmth.  So far this year (which does seem unusually mild) we’ve yet to use it two days running, as we’ve been having chilly days alternating with warm days.  So we haven’t been able to benefit from heated bench effect.

Lastly, the stove is temperamental (as the book more than adequately warns).  It has lots of personality, and a bit of a personality disorder — if not given abundant attention, it tends to pout and smoke.   If YOU are temperamental too, then this is perhaps not the best stove for you.  On the other hand, if you’re what they call process-oriented — but really REALLY process-oriented — it may be just the thing.

To the stove’s credit, it does take off the chill in a hurry once we light it up.  This in a 12 x 30 ft. room with 14 ft.  ceilings and tons of windows.  Who knows what wonders it might perform in a smaller space?

To sum up, if we had it to do over again, we wouldn’t, not here anyway.  But if I ever found myself mysteriously transplanted to the back woods of Oregon, I’d totally try it again, hopefully with the help of lots of knowledgeable mountain-man types.  Ironically, these heating stoves are a spinoff of a successful cooking stove developed for use in Third World countries with wood depletion problems.   The heater version, however, appears more doable back in The Land of the Affluent.

If you’re interested in learning more about rocket stoves, see the book Rocket Mass Heaters by Ianto Evans and Leslie Jackson, or their website here.

And stay tuned for part 2 of this tale, which has a happier ending…

An acquaintance, a longtime legal resident of the US, who travels regularly between his beach condo in Sonora and his home in Arizona was made aware of these changes about a week ago when he left his US-registered car at the condo and drove his Mexican-registered truck back to Arizona so he could use it to move some furniture.  He says he has driven his truck to Arizona dozens of times over many years in the past.  This time, he was given a choice of returning to Mexico or having his vehicle confiscated, and warned that if he attempts to enter the US again in the vehicle that it will be confiscated the next time.   He was also advised that his US-born wife is not allowed to drive a vehicle with Mexican plates in the US either, and that Mexican citizens who are not legal US residents are not allowed to drive vehicles with US plates in the US.  (Are you still with me here?)

On further inquiry he was told that these laws have been in existence all along, but were formerly not enforced.

Well people, they are being enforced now, and vigorously from the look of it.  We have since heard of two cases of people actually losing their vehicles.

I’ve been unable to locate any reference for these laws on quick search, but thought it more important to just let people know.  This is really happening.

I guess the other good news is that you don’t have to use them; you are always free to use the Libre, the free road, along with the rest of the hoi polloi and most of the trucks. The Libres are generally older, in worse repair, two lanes only, lacking in shoulders for important activities like tire-changing or avoiding oncoming trucks in your lane, hillier/curvier, more congested, and take longer to get from point A to point B.

Despite the above disadvantages, on some stretches the Libres can actually be nicer than the Cuotas (I haven’t been there recently but the Libre between Tijuana and Ensenada was at one time a little paradise on earth in the springtime).The trouble is, when traveling through unfamiliar territory, how are you going to know? The cautious traveler will usually elect the Cuota the first time around, especially if driving a large vehicle or towing something.

Apart from safety considerations, the Cuotas offer two notable amenities as consolation for the staggering fees they charge.

The first is that they usually have really nice bathrooms, which after all one would hope, at those prices.

An even greater convenience is that most Cuotas will take US dollars in payment, and give you change in pesos. If you find yourself running out of pesos, this can save endless hours of searching for banks or casas de cambio in strange towns. The Cuota stations usually have the (generally reasonable) exchange rate posted prominently on the booth. Some, but not all, will take only $20 bills or smaller. In the many, many toll stations we have passed through in the last two years, I remember seeing only one or two that did not accept dollars.

Mexican toll roads charge by a formula which is posted, with helpful pictures, on the approach to the toll booths. Basically they charge by the number of axles you have, as far as I can figure. So if you’re towing a trailer or driving something with lots of wheels, expect to pay more. On our most recent travels with a cargo trailer, about nine months ago, a cheap toll would be about 19 pesos (~$1.90 USD), an expensive one well in excess of 100 pesos (~$10.00 USD). I seem to recall a couple $20+ tolls. There is no apparent rhyme or reason to the charges with relation to distance; some 19-peso tolls were good for hours of happy motoring, whereas some of the “omigod, 15 bucks!!!” ones paid for only a half-hour stretch.

Driving a gas-guzzling V8 pickup, as we have been doing, and pulling a two-axle cargo trailer, we have found toll charges add up to somewhere between one-half and three-fourths of the amount we pay for gas. If you’re planning to use toll roads when driving in Mexico, be sure to include a generous amount for them in the budget!

The whole toilet thing is not much of an issue when you are settled in your own house, but it looms large when traveling. Toilet availability in Mexico is quite good these days; all Pemex stations have Sanitarios, although they vary in cleanliness and amenities, and most Cuota (highway toll collection) stations have decent bathrooms. Most restaurants of the sit-down variety also have some kind of facilities, and more upscale places may feature gorgeous examples of tilework in the local style. The main things to be aware of if depending on public toilets are 1) paper; 2) seats; 3) water; 4) soap; 5) attendants.

1) Paper. Some got it, some don’t. ALWAYS carry your own paper, just in case. TIP: Check for a large roll somewhere near the entrance of the bathroom, as many places will have a full roll there, and empty rollers in all the stalls. And after you have used the paper, don’t forget to throw it in the trash bin provided. Never throw paper into a Mexican toilet, unless there’s no trash bin, which might or might not indicate that it’s okay. It can be disconcerting, but even the most elegantly appointed hotel bathroom will have the inevitable wastebasket next to the toilet.

Paper towels are much less likely to be provided. Use your clothing or air dry. Some places have those annoying blower things.

2) Seats. For some mysterious reason, many Mexican public toilets do not have seats. I don’t know if this is because they’re easier to clean that way, or because they think people will steal them, but it can be an unpleasant surprise at times. When traveling, always take full advantage of any good bathroom you happen on. Not to get too personal, but a couple tips for the ladies – skirts are easier to manage than trousers, especially if the floor happens to be wet. Have paper ready in one hand, and hang on to the tank or the wall with the other hand if your leg muscles aren’t quite up to the challenge.

And speaking of seats, if you are a devotee of those paper toilet-seat covers so universally available in the US, forget finding them in Mexico; we’ve seen them only one time in the course of all our considerable travels.

3) Water. All the bathrooms I’ve seen have had sinks, but occasionally the sink will not have water. Many sinks have two faucets but only one will be operative. In places with multiple sinks, check each of them — one might be working. When there’s no water anywhere, it’s nice to have some of those little travel towels in the car.

4) Soap. Although soap dispensers are often in evidence, they seldom contain soap. Carry your own if this is important to you.

5) Attendants. Some toilets will have an attendant hanging around, doing cleaning chores. Occasionally there will be a tip cup on the washstand, but other times it is less clear what is expected. I usually donate a couple of pesos. Some places will have a sign stating a fee at the door (usually 2-5 pesos), and an attendant to collect it up front. I have encountered one pay toilet (remember those, with the coin slot on the door?) at a cuota station, outrageously priced at 10 pesos (~$1 usd!).

Bathrooms are pretty easy to find when shopping in the city. All the bigger stores and supermarkets feature bathrooms which are usually decently equipped (Home Depot, Wal-Mart, Soriana, etc.), and clean, although it’s always a good idea to carry your own paper.

Shopping in Mexico is never a breeze. Shopping in a city you don’t know well only adds to the fun. Finding things here calls to mind phrases like “needle in a haystack,” and “pulling teeth.”

The three main impediments to shopping bliss in Mexico are:

• There just isn’t as much stuff to buy. If you remember the 1950s in the states, it’s pretty similar to what shopping is like in Mexico today. It brings to life those statistics you’re always reading about the US, with only 5% of the world population, consuming some humongous percentage of the goods.

• Finding out who’s got what to sell can take on Kafkaesque overtones. Logic is lacking. The Yellow Pages, looking so innocently helpful like the ones back where you came from, are next to useless (more on this another time).

• Finally, finding the stores themselves in an unfamiliar city is a job in itself. Maps can help, but not that much where street signs and numbers are frequently absent.

We were in search of, among other things, eight-inch stovepipe for this rocket heater we’re planning to build. Only six-inch is common here, we learned. We finally located a place that fabricates the stuff, but it was closed for some obscure reason (it was Monday). They did open the following day, but we found the prices too steep. We reluctantly resigned ourselves to using six-inch pipe, reluctantly because it will require us to modify the design in the book, a complication we could well live without. That finally settled, we had to find the six-inch pipe, which all the hardware stores claimed to stock normally but seemed to be out of at the moment. We finally found it at Ace, of all places. Of course, they didn’t have the elbows — that would have been asking too much — but we were able to find those in a little hardware store enroute back home.

Things we found: Joint compound, electrical stuff, plumbing stuff, metal for the windows and doors, a cool old lamp for somewhere, the stove pipe, cat food, wine in a box, Kleenex, two wilted red-leaf lettuces (boo), soap, tomatoes in a box, mushrooms in a box, car parts, a can of air.

Things we couldn’t find: A propane heater (too late in the season, they’re already selling fans, and anyway we probably wouldn’t have indulged due to shock at the cost of all the other stuff), double deadbolt door locks, two medicines I needed, but fortunately not for another month and a half (never leave anything important to the last minute), farfalle.

Things we found but didn’t buy: A 2008 calendar, they had some at Sanborn’s but the ~$17 price tag dampened my desire to know what day it is; kitty litter (we still have some although I like to stock up on this); jamon serrano (too extravagant).

Things we blew off altogether : A visit to a tienda naturista for some herbal remedies.

Semi-impulse purchase: A gallon of raw honey for only ~$18 in a hamlet on the way home.

We discovered a terrific hotel, basic but super-clean and with courtyard parking (which we needed due to all the stuff in/on the truck by that time), for ~$20. It had hottish water but no towels. Someone had painted a charming abstract design on the wall over the bed, and there was some nice tile trim outside. There was a TV for the MG, and lighting bright enough to read by for me. Door lock was of the wobbly push-button variety. TIP: Bring your own towel and one of those safety lock gizmos if you frequent cheap hotels. Toilet paper too, although this place had an industrial-sized roll. There were two taco stands within a block, an Oxxo for beer, and a hotel with breakfast buffet two blocks away. What more could a gringa on a string ask?

Consider: How far is the nearest airport? How often are there flights to where you might need to go? Some cities may offer direct flights to selected stateside destinations a couple times a week; these can be a real bargain. At other times it will be necessary to route through Mexico City (all roads lead to Mexico City), which costs more. Do you have aged parents or other family likely to necessitate emergency visits? Then maybe San Cristobal de las Casas, on its remote, cloud-shrouded mountaintop, wouldn’t be the best choice (although I think I read somewhere an airport was in the works).

If you’re planning to travel within Mexico, it’s usually a time/money tradeoff. Mexico has a fabulous bus system extending to every nook and cranny of La Republica, and prices are quite decent. But, distances being what they are, bus travel can involve many days, which has its own costs, like eating. Airfares within Mexico are pretty pricey. Rental car prices are comparable to those in the states. Gas prices are rising, although not to the same heights as in the states so far (unleaded is about $2.70 a gallon at this writing). If travel of any sort is going to be a big part of your Mexican life, and money is a consideration, then think well on these things.

Remoteness per se is not necessarily a big deal. It’s the mix that any particular place has to offer that’s important. Progreso, Yucatan, where we lived, for example, was a great location for access to the US by plane; less so for access to the rest of Mexico. This place is pretty damned remote, perched on the tip of the Yucatan peninsula. BUT, it’s only a half-hour from the Merida airport, which has daily flights to Houston, daily reasonably- priced flights to Houston, at that. I flew round-trip Merida to Albuquerque, New Mexico in June of 2006 for only $500. A couple months later, the MG and I traveled to Guadalajara round trip, a far shorter distance, and it cost us $400 each. (I’ve noticed that on Mexican carriers, roundtrip airfares are not discounted as opposed to buying each direction separately, but I don’t know if that’s always the case.) The Merida airport has dozens of flights daily to Mexico City, from where you can connect to anyplace in the world. And, you could do the whole thing without using your car; a taxi from Progreso to the airport was about $25.

Additionally, we were able to ship a crate of five large (48 x 36″) paintings from Merida to our gallery in Arizona, via DHL, for about $500. So, Progreso/Merida was excellent for access to the rest of the world, despite being at the end of the earth and a 7-day drive from Tucson.

In terms of shopping, Progreso had a great central market (roast pig tacos for breakfast!) and a pretty fair small supermarket. We shopped for wine, parmesan, and cat supplies at Sams and Aurrera in Merida, a half-hour drive away. Progreso got its own Aurrera about a month before we left.

In the northern state of Sonora, where we are living now, the situation is very different. Here, we are a three-hour drive from the US border, four to five hours’ drive from the Tucson airport, and a three-hour drive from Hermosillo and its airport. That’s in your own vehicle. There is bus service which of course takes a lot longer.

As far as shopping goes, only very basic items are available in the local tienditas; all other shopping must be done in the city, three hours and maybe $50 in gas distant. The nearest bank is an hour and a half away. Careful planning is of the essence when living in such a remote location. One example: We forgot to fill the truck with gas the day before departing on a trip to the states, and so, after getting up at 4 a.m. for an early start, were obliged to sit around feeling very disgruntled until our local Pemex station opened at 7.