LAYING LOW IN LA CRUZ

La Cruz was quieter than normal when I returned, but open for business. Dining had mostly been outdoors to begin with. Masks were required in most businesses, but people were walking the streets and relaxing in restaurants without them. When I went racing the day after I arrived, I was the only person on the boat wearing a mask (although this would gradually change as time went on.) After coming from California, where almost everyone wore a mask in public, it was a shock to see so many maskless faces.

La Cruz Malecon at Dawn

In La Cruz, Covid-19 cases had peaked in September and were negligible when I arrived. As cases climbed sharply in California, Nayarit remained a low-Covid oasis, at least until the time of this writing. Despite Mexico's president imploring people not to travel or gather over the holiday season, there were still lots of noisy parties going on and I expected case numbers to climb over the holidays.

Empty Britannia

I laid low for the first week after I arrived and continued to stay home more than usual. I went to a socially distant jam session at the Britannia on Monday nights, played cards outdoors with my girlfriends on Tuesdays, and raced on Wednesdays. I stayed away from the gym and, having sprained my ankle while running in the dark on Thanksgiving morning, was temporarily prevented from walking or running in the morning. My time was spent playing the guitar, surfing the internet, watching Netflix, and painting.

Racing on Wings

My Latest Painting

One of the biggest changes in my lifestyle due to Covid-19 was my decision to avoid public transportation. I walked into Bucerias to go grocery shopping and then took an Uber back with my groceries. I decided that I needed to buy myself a bicycle, both for zipping around town and making longer trips. One morning, I make the 5.5 mile trek to La Comer to purchase a bicycle at the Buen Fin sale, the Mexican equivalent of Black Friday. I got a mountain bike with front and rear shocks for 3800 pesos (about $200.) The trouble with buying a bike at the grocery store was that no one there really knew how to assemble it. The pedals were on backwards and the handlebars were so loose that they didn't turn the wheel. Eventually, we got it assembled well enough so that I could sort of ride it, but the brakes were rubbing and I couldn't shift gears. Riding it home was exhausting.

My New Bicycle

The chain was too long and one of the links was bent. As a result, the chain skipped when pressure was applied. The cheap chain did not have a master link, so I had to order one from Amazon. That took ten days. I was able to adjust the brakes and front derailleur, but the rear one resisted adjustment. If the cable was tight enough to move the derailleur, the shifter seized up. The derailleur, itself, was just too stiff. I eventually managed to adjust it enough to get to the lower gears, but had to settle for leaving it there. I did manage to ride it into Bucerias for a few grocery items. Even that caused my ankle to swell, so I had to settle for using it for short trips around town.

My big project for the season was to shift my healthcare from the United States to Mexico. As a retired person too young for Medicare, I was responsible for paying my own health insurance premiums, which had been running about $1,200/month. When Covid-19 suddenly reduced my income by 40%, I could no longer afford that expense. I was able to get a health insurance policy that was good anywhere in the world EXCEPT the United States for $1,823 for the year. If I returned to the United States, I would need to buy a travel policy.

Hospital Waiting Room

To obtain this insurance, I needed to have some blood work done and get an EKG. I was able to walk to the hospital in Bucerias for the blood work, but had to go to the cardiologist in Nuevo Vallarta for the EKG. I had hoped to take an Uber, but no cars were available. I had to don my face mask and face shield and take a bus to Nuevo Vallarta. Since I was avoiding combis, I took a taxi from the bus stop on the highway to the hospital. I couldn't get an Uber for the return, either, so had to reverse the process. The bus was not terribly crowded and the windows were open, but there were a few people without masks, despite masks supposedly being required to ride.

Every year, the women of La Cruz get together for a clothing exchange. I was part of the What's App group relating to this exchange. In early December, someone posted that she had found an orphaned kitten, but need to sail away and couldn't take her along. I offered to foster the kitten. Pinky, as she came to be named, was a tiny, skinny, thing about seven weeks old. She was all eyes and ears. Cherie and John sailed south a few days later, leaving me alone with the kitten. She ate voraciously and rapidly grew bolder. By ten weeks, she had a round, little belly and was rampaging about the house and attacking anything that moved. She rapidly alternated between being angelic and monstrous and kept me well entertained.

Pinky

While many of my usual pastimes were canceled and many of my normal companions absent, there was one new activity that grew out of the Covid crisis. A mixed group of local families and gringo residents had begun a community garden to grow produce for those in need. Since my own finances had been adversely affected by the situation, I could not contribute to the food bank as much as I had earlier. I decided to contribute my labor, instead.

I joined the project in its early days. The ejido (land cooperative) had granted us a corner of their cow pasture and someone had run a tractor over it quickly, leaving the area covered in cut, dry grass and big chunks of hard dirt. It was very difficult to walk, especially with an injured ankle. Three dump trucks full of topsoil had been delivered before I arrived. We set about converting the piles into raised beds and the grass into the largest compost heap that anyone had ever seen.

We shoveled for three weeks, working Sunday mornings and Tuesday and Friday evenings. Having spent the entire summer with a shovel in my hand, I tackled the heaviest jobs. We dug a large pit to convert the woody debris into charcoal. The less fit members started seedlings and planted them as the beds became ready. By the week of Christmas, the area looked like a real garden, a fence was going up to keep the cows out, and someone had donated a container to be converted to a tool shed.

The Community Garden

As we worked together, we became comfortable with each other and the two communities became one team. I got to speak a lot of Spanish and we talked and laughed as we worked and taught each other the English and Spanish words for garden tools.

It has long been a tradition in La Cruz that the gringo residents provide a Christmas gift for every child in the town. Two of the local restaurants facilitate this event. Some sailing friends and I were going to the Treehouse Bar for Christmas Eve dinner just as the children were receiving their gifts. A well-known waiter from the Britannia was dressed as Santa Claus and the line stretched for blocks. Five hundred and fifty children received gifts. An anonymous donor had provided gift certificates for a roast chicken dinner for each of the families receiving assistance from the food bank. The Christmas spirit was alive and well in La Cruz.

The Children of La Cruz Receiving Their Gifts

Alfredo and Mary Chuy from the Treehouse prepared a lovely turkey dinner for their orphan regulars. The Treehouse is open air and spacious. With only fifteen or twenty patrons in a space that can seat two hundred, there was plenty of social distance. I shared a table with friends old and new and it was a lovely way to spend Christmas Eve.