Camp Aldama








Camp Aldama is arriba on Calle Aldama above the Pacific and the malecon. The street stops-but doesn’t end when it runs into the concrete wall that keeps the dirt of the hill from collapsing. At that point Aldama Privata continues up the hill by the way of steps that I’m sure go all the way to heaven and Emilio Caranzza begins where Aldama ends by making a sharp right and going south to Gringo Gulch.

From my west window Camp Aldama has a lovely view of the ocean, roof tops, the sky, and into the neighbors windows if you care to look. From the roof the view is spectacular. Out the back the view is east into the hills and of the houses stacked on top of each other. the amazing thing is they have all been built by hand. Burros, prodded by a huffing and puffing man with a small stick or rope that switches their butts when they falter, haul the sand and bricks up the steep hill to be made into concrete and walls by the amazing Mexican builders.

Directly behind me, one story higher, I had an exhibitionist for a few weeks. After some procrastination I got my long lens ready to take his picture-but he hasn’t appeared lately. The neighbors are loud. One man sings the same notes as the gallo crows. It’s not as pleasant a sound coming from a man. Dogs bark, chickens cluck and crow, & children scream. The Mexican doorbell is standing in the street yelling or whistling. All household essentials are sold through the streets: water, propane, honey, flowers..I am sure there are other goods I am not aware of. Reyna owns the launderia where I have my clothes washed.

My dpartmente is a one bedroom with a bath that has a shower with enough warm water for a quick washing. That is the only place there is hot water. My shit is mostly too large for the toilet so the plunger is indispensable. there is no TV, no oven and glacial ice has overtaken the small fridge. But, the bed is comfortable & the space conducive to work & reflection plus the requisite siesta I have gotten used to.

Puerto Vallarta is not necessarily old Mexico. It is populated with many gringos from Canada and the States both as permanent residents and tourists. Several very large cruise ships arrive and depart every day. because of the large influx of English speaking folks it is taking me much longer than I imagined to learn Spanish.

There have been several issues of note that I will post in the next few days: Margaret did not have the appropriate paper work so is in quarantine. I visited Guadalajara and some of Michoacan over Christmas with my friend Susan and my friend Xochili invited me to Mexico City to spend Three Kings Day with her family last week. The humpback whales are here for birthing and fucking. I have seen them from my window once so far. Mexican men apparently have no concept of seduction-at least the ones I meet. This very evening I sat beside one in the main parque to listen to the orchestra play favorite Mexican songs that most people knew the words to.

Before I learned his name he asked me if he and I could walk to my house. I said no. He said porque? I said I didn’t even know his name. He shrugged. Perhaps I have it all wrong. Maybe names aren’t important. At my friend’s house, her dad grabbed my crotch at each opportunity and wanted to take me to a hotel or just to bed me in his house. No. I said.. Porque? he asked. I am not comfortable. I said. I hardly know you. He shrugged.

I guess I’m a picky Norte American bitch. At least with my diminished libido I don’t care much. There is a man-Reyes, that I met in Guadalajara. He strikes me fancy but when he calls he is apparently either drunk or can’t think of something to say in English or simple Spanish. it will be a minor miracle if we ever see each other again.

My book is coming along as much as possible considering my limited disclipline and organizational skills. I have met an angel named Yolanda. She runs a wonderful place for disabled kids, Pasito de Luz. I plan to spend time there raising money and holding the children.

I love sitting on the beach with my friends having a drink, listening to music while watching the sunset and walking along the malecon the weekends when the clowns are performing in the entertainment pit, and the food: corn in a cup with mayo and hot sauce, aqua fresca, made in a big gourd with nuts and fruits for a buck! The people smile at us -sophi and me. Especially the kids love the big dog. I say, no muerte alot so they aren’t afraid. That seems to be enough.

The folks in the picture are: Lianna, yo y Sophi having drinks in the Rio Cuale before dinner, an old woman in Michoacan taken by Susan, GI Joe in a lancha de coco, the upside down dog barks thru the quadrafoil (sp?), Quimixto beach I think, and the pier in Pv where we watch the sunset and get the panja for Yelapa and Huichol ninas.

Enough now. hasta luego. rubi