Montezuma’s Revenge (and other things dangerous around Mexico)

         
I was kind of wondering why Canadians should be subjected to this ailment, this form of punishment. What did we ever do to deserve this? After all, it was only relatively recently, during the Second World War, that Canada even had formal relations with Mexico. We were on the same side, and the winning side too. We both signed the agreement known as NAFTA. We trade, peacefully, together and are like buddies in the big toilet bowl of International Politics. So why should we be singled out? Well, the answer, of course, is that we aren’t and a little research reveals that this ailment is also not a phenomenon known only in Mexico.
Montezuma’s Revenge is also known as Traveller’s Diarrhea. The term Montezuma’s Revenge was first used perhaps around 1959 when some likely bored American journalist had a moment of brilliance and penned it. I’ve always liked it – the name that is. You don’t have to travel very far to be affected by this ailment though. If you are still in your own country then you can get Wilderness Diarrhea also known as Backcountry Diarrhea. That sounds appropriate.
Those of you who are well travelled might know it as Aztec Two Step, The Gringo Gallup, Pharaoh’s Revenge, Mummy’s Tummy, Cairo Two Step, Bombay Belly, Delhi Belly, Karachi Crouch, Katmandu Quickstep, The Rangoon Runs, Thai-dal Wave and in Canada as Beaver Fever. (I always thought Beaver Fever was something else.) You know though, this being such a crappy subject, let’s just try to get over it as quick as we can. I think it is even having a stinking effect on my writing which normally as you know flows with such a fine narcissistictic bent to it I gotta remember that one for Scrabble. Oh oh, I can feel the run-ons.
Maybe it’s time to freshen things up a little. With so many words to describe this subject, and because I am, by nature, drawn to disorder, we will defer to the master of words, the Old Bard himself, William Shakespeare. In his ever effervescent manner he answers, for us, the age old question, “What’s in a name?” In Romeo and Juliet, he has Juliet utter perhaps her second most well known phrase “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t talking about what my nephew likes to call a “Dutch Oven”. After all, there would be no need to ask, “O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?” Now, that would be a good place for any normal person to end this diatribe so why don’t we just carry on.
     In 1975 Ronnie Milsap released an album called A Rose by Any Other Name. Included in the album is Roy Orbison’s song “Crying”. Keep that in mind for background music if, like a bolt from the blue, the spirit of Montezuma ever pays you a visit. And you may also want to have a cool, damp towel around either for wiping away the sweat or clenched, ever so undelicately, between the teeth.
When we consider ‘Rose’ and ‘Music’ we naturally think of Bette Midler, don’t we? She was born in Honolulu, Hawaii and, as I’m sure we readily realize, Honolulu is on exactly the same latitude as Puerto Vallarta. Also known as ‘The Divine Miss M’ she starred in the film The Rose, based loosely on the life of Janis Joplin.
Joplin was known as ‘The Queen of Rock and Roll’ as well as ‘The Queen of Psychedelic Soul’. At the age of 23 she joined the band known as Big Bother and the Holding Company. (Why does that name remind me of a latrine?) She was closely related to The Grateful Dead as well as many other famous musicians. One of my favourite of her songs is Mercedes Benz which she recorded on October 1, 1970 along with a birthday greeting for John Lennon. Mercedes Benz was recorded a cappella and there was only one take ever recorded. There may have been plans for the band to join in another recording but there wasn’t enough time. Janis, sadly, would be dead three days later, even before her taped birthday greeting would arrive at Lennon’s home.  
If you are feeling symptoms of Traveller’s Diarrhea then, for heaven’s sake, don’t look at me. This ain’t no get well quick piece. Go see a doctor, they’ll understand. No matter where you are in the world some concepts simply transcend the normal barriers of communication. Actually, I suggest that you see your doctor before you take your vacation. He may give you something to carry with you just in case. And, always remember what the Good Book says, “Vengeance is mine.....For the day of their calamity is at hand and the things that are to come upon them shall make haste”.

Salud!

Philo’s Bar

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Way up north the sun don’t hang around
And if you want to know where it’s been
Why, it just heads on down to Mexico
When the winter freeze sets in

In a little corner of Banderas Bay
You don’t need to wear no shoes
Yeah, they like to keep their tootsies tanned
In the town that’s called La Cruz

You watch the evening sun just a settling down
Till it’s melting right out of sight
And you can bet they’re dancing barefoot folks
Down at Philo’s bar tonight
Maybe something in the way the band does play
Or the way they like to mix a drink
But it’s like taking two steps back in time
Makes you feel younger than you’d think

Though the crowd ain’t no spring chickens
More what you’d like to call mature
But if there’s a treatment for becoming old
I’d say that Philo’s found the cure
You can keep your socks and your winter boots
With the laces pulled nice and tight
And you can bet they’re dancing barefoot folks
Down at Philo’s bar tonight

Yeah the daytime can get nice and hot
And when you’re talking bout centigrade
Each day is pretty much the same
It’s twenty seven in the shade
Then the afternoon brings a balmy breeze
You might be thinking you’re in paradise
It’s the time of day when the palm trees sway
And a siesta sure might be nice

You watch the evening sun just a settling down
Till it’s melting right out of sight
And you can bet they’re dancing barefoot folks
Down at Philo’s bar tonight

What’s in a Name

I was just reading a short story in a book of short stories, by author Stuart Mclean. A friend of mine, Dave, lent it to me. Dave is Helen’s husband and Helen is the real estate agent, extraordinaire, who found us the perfect lot on which to build our new home here in La Cruz. That is La Cruz de Huanacaxtle. The huanacaxtle is the name of a particular tree that is indigenous to this area. This story isn’t about La Cruz and it is somewhat of a shame that huanacaxtle is such a long name since it uses up so much space in a story that isn’t even about it. I’m glad to get that out of the way so I can continue with what I was about to say in the first place. I should add though, that this isn’t to say that La Cruz de Huanacaxtle is not worth writing about. I have a feeling that one needs not walk too far down one of its shaded cobbled streets in order to unearth a wealth of hidden tales and secrets.

Dave likes to lend me books. Actually, the lending of books seems to be a fairly common activity here, around Banderas Bay. Maybe it’s partly because a lot of people have the luxury of plenty of time to read. The book he lent me previous to this one was Three Day Road, a story of native Canadians fighting in Europe in the First World War. I really enjoyed the book. In return I lent Dave a copy of The Idiot, by Dostoevsky. Now, The Idiot is not really such an easy read. Well, I should say that it wasn’t too easy for me. For all I know the average person might just breeze right through it. But I had found the book, on sale, really cheap, along with a few other classics including a couple by Homer. By the time I finished The Idiot I pretty much felt like one. That is to say I felt even more like one than before I had started it. But I did manage to finish it. Since then I have opened one of Homer’s books, read a page or two, and then set it back carefully onto the bookshelf, for another day, perhaps. The Idiot was lent to Dave as a kind of prank. You know, to get even with him for lending me a book and having the gumption to say that I would really enjoy it. If you see him please don’t tell him this because it could easily affect my being able to play a joke on him in the future. But Dave did finish the book. I know this because he talked about the story briefly with me. And it didn’t seem to turn him into an idiot. It didn’t seem to change him at all. I hate when that happens.

So here we were, having dinner and drinks, twelve of us. More drinks than dinner. This was one of those casual events organized by Helen, you know, Dave’s wife. Helen loves to get people together like this. I suspect she is quite gregarious, at least at those times when she can stand to be around other people. This particular gathering was in Old Town, Puerto Vallarta, at a place called Langostino’s. I’m not here to plug the name of this establishment and if the food and drinks and service weren’t so excellent I would not recommend it at all. In fact, the music wasn’t good at all. So we began, more or less collectively, to get up and add our own contributions to the sound. The noise then, of course, managed to get a whole lot worse, rather quickly. It didn’t bother any of us though and we barely noticed other patrons beginning to exit. If one could, then I suppose one would, try to blame this on the curse of the Happy Hour. I did mention that there were twelve of us sitting at the table. Eight were drinking red wine and at one point I counted fifteen glasses of, as yet unfinished, vino tinto. I do stuff like that, like counting the number of unfinished glasses of wine on a table. Again, perhaps a result of having too much ‘free’ time. More likely the result of having the brain of an idiot.

Gradually, my wife and I are getting to know more and more people around here. This particular group is a bit of an anomaly, though. The males consisted of Gene, myself and four guys named Dave. Not even a Davey or David among them. Just Dave times four. My wife and I were the last to arrive at the table. I had barely sat down when Dave hands me two books. “You’re gonna love these,” he says. I asked him why he would say that and he replies, “Because they remind me of you”. Oh, great, I’m thinking. I only recently loaned him The Idiot and he got through that without any apparent psychological damage and now he gives me something ‘funny’ to read that reminds him of me. Maybe he can see right through me. I hate when that happens. He then asks me if I have finished Three Day Road because Dave would like to read it next. Meanwhile, another Dave is talking to Gene about Theoren Fleury’s book. And then another Dave, please don’t ask me which one, adds that it is such a great read that you can barely put it down.

You will have to forgive me at this point if I don’t remember too much of the rest of that evening. Again, the curse of the Happy Hour. As if we need happy hour around here.

Back to my story, I’m reading one of the books Dave lent me and the author brings up a brief anecdote about Christmas. You know, Canadian style Christmas. Bing Crosby style ‘white’ Christmas. And for some reason it dawns on me that we only experience two seasons down here. Winter and summer. Cool and dry, warm and wet. But up north there are typically four seasons, although a lot of Canadians would dispute that. We’ve been coming here for three winters now. Sometimes I like to tell people that I miss the winter. You know, shovelling snow and stuff like that. When I say things like that my wife thinks I’m an idiot. Oh oh! Is there a pattern beginning to form here?

We are getting near my point now. My wife and I were having lunch at the Marina here in La Cruz. There are three main marinas in the bay. They each have their own terrific ambiance. There is a yacht club here that is open to the public. It is a beautiful, quiet place and is just another great example of how many different sorts of experiences one can have around Banderas Bay. This particular time we had gone back because we wanted to find out whether she could get the shrimp quesadillas for the same price as the previous time. This is one of their appetizers and yet it is large enough that she cannot finish it and asks me to help her. Twenty pesos, just same price as last time. If this is a mistake then we can only hope that no one ever brings attention to it. Please don’t mention it to anyone.

There is a very large yacht typically docked next to the yacht club. It has signage reading Four Seasons Resort, Punta Mita. Now, Punta Mita is situated at the northwest point of Banderas Bay. And while there are plenty of well to do people spread around the bay, it is my understanding that the really big money is in Punta Mita. If you want to drive there from Puerto Vallarta then you will pass through the sleepy town of La Cruz. I have a feeling that a lot of the people who go there travel by other means like helicopter, ridiculously large yacht or sailboat. People like Jack Nicklaus and Greg Norman and those who can afford to play at their custom designed golf courses. Or buy one of the multi-million dollar lots to build your dream home.

So my wife and I are enjoying our absurdly inexpensive lunch (our secret, right!) and I’m watching a handful of fellows carefully detailing this rather large yacht. Four Seasons Resort, Punta Mita. Four Seasons? I don’t think so, but what’s in a name, anyway?

Stats

Okay, okay, things are dangerous out there. We all know that. We all hear the scary news. Run for cover.

I am going to present some recent statistics to help you all decide how you are going to manage to survive all of this terrible stuff we are hearing.

First of all, I’ll start with the story (you’ve all heard it before, right?) that when the fellow learned that 90% of all accidents occur within 10 miles of home, he promptly moved away. If only we could all figure solutions out so simply!

There are, of course, recent news articles about one place in particular, Mexico. Stay away.

Particularly, what we hear about is murders in the drug trade.

This generally involves the members of the trade itself but also has a spinoff effect in the police business and, ultimately, a spinoff into innocent bystanders such as locals and even visitors, in most cases known as tourists.

Yes, yes, last year alone we heard that between 30,000 and 40,000 individuals were murdered in Mexico.

Ouch! Most of us, who think like non-violent human beings, would rationally say, Stay Away.

However, as is generally the case, one or two numbers or statistics have little value in a logical consideration unless there is something to compare them to. So, here are some comparisons.

Recent statistics tell us that:

1. At least 36,000 people die from the flu each year in the USA. Oooh, that is awfully close to the number of murders in Mexico. What to do, what to do?

2. At least 37,000 people die in US traffic deaths per year. Ditto.
3. Jamaica’s murder rate is more than double, per capita, than that of Mexico. Isn’t Jamaica a tourist destination. Do you know anyone who was ever stupid enough to go there?

4. In the USA, around 5 people per 100,000 die in traffic deaths per year. In Canada the rate is 1.8. In Liechenstein the rate is 0.00. Wouldn’t we all want to drive around Liechenstein? In the Marshall Islands the rate is 1.7, still very low. In Eritrea (I have no idea where that is), the rate is 48.4. Now the scary thing for me here is that it sounds like a little country, maybe with few vehicles. Someone should check that out, please.

5. All of these pale in size (pun intended) to the following statistic. Believe it or not, 112,000 people in the USA die of obesity each year.

Now, how do we take all this and apply it to our lives in a productive way? Certainly, I personally should begin by dieting. But really, overall, how do we solve the problem?

I guess I will have to sleep on that one. But wait a minute! How many people die in their sleep?