Each time I return to San Pancho from Connecticut, I feel a wave of affection toward the town as I drive down Avenida Tercer Mundo to our home. I still marvel, even after eight winters, at how lucky we were to find this little piece of heaven on earth, this tropical paradise. Our pink house looks prettier than I remembered, the landscaping more lush.
Then, after a couple of hours of re-entry euphoria, I begin to notice the pests. Microscopic ants scurry along the kitchen counter; a roach runs through the utensil drawer. And damn! That gecko who lives in the bedroom rafters has pooped on the clean bedspread again.
Reality has dawned. I must do something about the ants and the roaches and the gecko poop. The hotel will not send someone up to dispatch the pests, because I am not in a hotel. This is my home.
The distinction between vacationing in the tropics and actually living here has never quite sunk into my consciousness. Parrots that swoop across the patio, copa de oro that spills over my garden wall, picture-perfect sunsets -- all continue to delight me. It’s easy to feel that I’m on a long vacation.
But I can’t ignore the flip side of this tropical paradise. Living in San Pancho also means battling termites, ticks, scorpions, snakes, mosquitos, ants of several types, mold, mildew, fungus on my plants, and iguanas that dislodge the roof tiles. The jungle and its creatures want to claim my house, and I’m not going to let them. I will research them on the Internet, I will spray, I will fumigate, I will swat. I will not flag or fail in my campaign to conquer the pests.
Then, after a couple of hours of re-entry euphoria, I begin to notice the pests. Microscopic ants scurry along the kitchen counter; a roach runs through the utensil drawer. And damn! That gecko who lives in the bedroom rafters has pooped on the clean bedspread again.
Reality has dawned. I must do something about the ants and the roaches and the gecko poop. The hotel will not send someone up to dispatch the pests, because I am not in a hotel. This is my home.
The distinction between vacationing in the tropics and actually living here has never quite sunk into my consciousness. Parrots that swoop across the patio, copa de oro that spills over my garden wall, picture-perfect sunsets -- all continue to delight me. It’s easy to feel that I’m on a long vacation.
But I can’t ignore the flip side of this tropical paradise. Living in San Pancho also means battling termites, ticks, scorpions, snakes, mosquitos, ants of several types, mold, mildew, fungus on my plants, and iguanas that dislodge the roof tiles. The jungle and its creatures want to claim my house, and I’m not going to let them. I will research them on the Internet, I will spray, I will fumigate, I will swat. I will not flag or fail in my campaign to conquer the pests.
1 comment:
Oh, please; when you triumph over the pests, pass your methods on to the rest of us! This year has been the worst for me. Some locals say mucho lluvia; others just shrug "it is Mexico".
We so enjoy reading your stories and commentaries when we are here in San Pancho and when NOTB, awaiting the time to return.
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