|That's most all of our stuff waiting to be moved later today. The|
balcony is visible through the double doors, the jumbled mess
of Dionicio's mirador beyond.
I can’t get my head around the reality that—after a happy year here—this is our last morning in the little apartment above Calle Constitución. We just said our final coffee-time “Buenas días” to passersby on the street below our balcony. No more looking into the jumbled mess of Dionicio's mirador, nor seeing him come out of his studio—paintbrush in hand—to apprise us of the progress on his latest pintura. No more rising to scat away a roving dog or two looking to break into a tasty-smelling garbage bag left for morning pickup, or be buffeted by the noise and rattle of the early Chapala-Jocotepec bus, or watch the birds and hear their various calls.
Soon I’ll ring Enrique to arrange for his help this afternoon moving the piles of cajas y maletas—boxes and suitcases—now scattered against the walls and chairs of our living/dining room. The nueva casa is almost ready for us. We love its beauty and spaciousness, the garden we can fill with our choice of tropical plants, the much quieter neighborhood still close to the plaza and lake, but the water pressure leaves something to be desired. I’m sure we’ll get used to that, or buy a pump. There’s no balcony, but there is the viejo hombre who sits on a stool outside the zapateria just up and across the street, always with a flyswatter in his hand and always with a friendly response to my “Buenas tardes”, plus other neighbors, activities and views to be discovered. And after all these years living in rentals that don't allow it, we can finally have a dog!