Category Archives: Life in the Yucatan

The good, the bad and the ugly. Telling it like I see it for over 10 years now.

CFE Woes

Life in the Yucatan

At the Blogger Summit alluded to in an earlier post today, it was suggested to me by my good friend Ellen that I should/could write more from the unique vantage point that being married to a Yucatecan has given me.

OK.

Turns out that our good friends at the CFE (Comision Federal de Electricidad for those new to the initials) have been billing yours truly incorrectly. Yes, the bills have been rather low, almost to the point of being ridiculously low, but I attributed it mostly to the fact that both teenagers are out of the house and the adults are working all day and rarely use air conditioning, thanks to high ceilings and plenty of fans.

In any case, the Mexican in me found it rather stupid to actually go to the CFE and say “Hey, I’m paying too little, can you check this for me”. The Mexican thinks “Do I look like a p****o?”

The Canadian in me of course, was thinking it the whole time.

Finally, the CFE, perhaps with the stimulus of the economic downturn or for whatever reason (if reasons are to be found at the CFE in their decision making processes) decided to check the entire neighborhood. This entails going from house to house, leaving notices that will freeze your blood – they are notorious for imposing enormous sanctions on businesses or private residences that have problems with their electrical usage – advising you, Mr. or Mrs. Homeowner that the CFE wants to check your medidor and is making an appointment with you via the notification.

I don’t know how to translate this, so briefly: the medidor is that glass encased mechanism at the front of your property that has the spinning thingie inside and tells the CFE how much wattage you are consuming. Oh look, there’s a photo right there.

While you wait for the appointed moment, you sweat, you bite your nails, you stare at the ceiling unable to sleep, you call a lawyer who specializes in CFE abuse cases; all the symptoms usually associated with something more violent, like a kidnapping .

Finally the day arrives, and the abnormally polite CFE technician and you, the nervous customer meet at your medidor where another CFE guy removes the medidor, attaches another, different aparatus. Your old medidor is attached on top of that.

“What’s that for?”

“It’s for measuring the actual current coming through the line directly. It will tell us how much current is going through to the medidor.”

Several tests are made, they are offered a glass of pineapple agua with ice which they gratefully accept and then the diagnosis is complete. The medidor is not working properly. There is something inside that has been damaged or burned out and so they have found what they are looking for, validating their inspection. This is not something caused by us, the homeowners, it’s a mechanical failure of some sort.

“What now?” we ask nervously.

“Well, we are going to install a new medidor” we are told matter of factly. “There was a problem with this one and it evidently resulted in you being billed less than your real consumption”

“And then?”

“After a period of about 15 days, we will take a reading and determine what you should have paid, compare that with what you actually paid and present you with the difference, which will have to be paid.”

Gulp.

We have heard horror stories about these visits from the CFE. However, a lot of these horror stories are the fault of the homeowner, who has opted to hire an electrician or corrupt CFE employee, to alter the medidor so that it spins more slowly thereby causing a reduction in the bill, or worse, having an installation that BYPASSES the medidor altogether. This latter option is called a ‘diablito‘ and if you are caught with one, you WILL pay BIG time. In fact it is a crime known as Robo a la Nación or Stealing from the Nation. You have to live here to appreciate how insanely attached Mexicans are to their simbolos patrios and the CFE is practically up there with the flag. To steal from the CFE is like betraying the country. Almost firing squad material.

This was not our case. It was a simple case of a mechanical failure.

Yesterday, we got the bill. It comes to $19,000 pesos. The difference between what we paid and what we should have paid, for the last 24 months.

And this is where Ellen’s comment comes in:

The Canadian in me is saying “Why the hell am I responsible for the CFE’s equipment!! This is outrageous! If I buy Ben and Jerry’s ice cream at Walmart can they come back 24 months later and say, ‘you know what, that price was wrong, you’re going to have to pay the difference’. What the hell! I’m ready to go to the PROFECO!”

The Yucatecan Mexican in me however, is saying, “Well, $19,000 pesos is not so bad. Let’s just pay it and get it over with. After all, our friend Fulana got hit with a $50,000 bill so this is much better. Hell the CFE even gives me the option of paying in monthly installments. Just pay and shut up about it.”

So there you have it.

Kind of a long story but what Ellen said struck a chord. I had both reactions at the same time. One Mexican, one Canadian. Which one will prevail? Probably the Mexican. My fellow homeowner and much better half is Mexican as well. Simple majority.

The Blogger Summit

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

I had the opportunity to meet some fine folks who write blogs about their lives in Mexico at a recent get-together that saw bloggers attend from here in Merida and also Cancun, Playa and Isla Mujeres. It’s actually still going on as I type this. The common thread is that we were all foreigners writing, in one form or another, about life here in Mexico!

There was a half-day of presentations which I found interesting, especially the parts about making money with your blog (forget about it) and finding inspiration. My inspiration has always been kick started by something that really gets under my skin ie pisses me off, but this made me think about other, less energetically angry motivations to write.

After the presentations there was a cantina lunch at La Ruina, which the Casual Restaurant Critic comments on himself so there’s not much point in going on about it here. If you’ve ever been to a cantina, you know that you can do much of your entertainment shopping (CDs, DVDs) there as well as having your shoes polished or perhaps buy smokes or candy from outside salespeople off the street. What really stuck out was the enthusiasm shown by many at the table for the pirate DVDs offered at the cantina. I’m not saying it’s only Mexicans that buy pirata, just that it came as a surprise to see that level of interest.

Thanks to Theresa for setting all this up – I think I am going to invite Jorgito next time there is one of these blogger meet-ups!! I’m sure he would have a blast.

HSBC

Life in the Yucatan

As I continue to reluctantly deal with my branch of the infamous HSBC bank (is any Mexican bank really better) I never tire of looking at the their misleading and blatantly stupid advertising.

For example, in their severely service-challenged Gran Plaza branch they announced just recently “New operating hours – more ventanillas open – to serve you better!!!” A ventanilla is a window. In this branch there are 3. Well, they did modify their operating hours; they reduced them, eliminating Sunday opening and shortening Saturday service. As for the ventanillas, the same number is open as before. 2 or 3. Absolute crap.

Signing in to their online banking site, I was greeted by this message, trying to sell me on the idea of using this pathetic bank for my family’s insurance needs:

  • EN HSBC SABEMOS QUE TU SEGURIDAD Y LA DE TU FAMILIA ES LO MAS IMPORTANTE, ES POR ESO QUE PONEMOS A TU DISPOCION EL SEGURO DE APOYO POR HOSTITALIZACION QUE TE OFRECE APOYO ECONOMICO EN CASO DE QUE SEAS HOSPITALIZADO POR ALGUNA ENFERMEDAD O ACCIDENTE.

If you read any Spanish you will notice the spelling errors, which, IMHO do not inspire any more confidence in this mediocre-at-best banking institution.

Diario de Yucatan Headline – Church Encourages Criticism

Life in the Yucatan

The Diario de Yucatan published as it’s front page story (March 23, 2009) an article detailing the church’s exhortation that criticism is necessary and its’ warning of the dangers of not accepting dissenting opinions.

Is the almighty church talking about itself? Of course not, silly reader! No, they are talking about politics. Apparently what’s never been good for the goose is alright for the gander, to paraphrase and dissect a popular expression.

The church (catholic of course) never accepts criticism or dissenting opinions of any kind, yet in Mexican archdioceses’ weekly publication “Desde La Fe” an editorial blathers on and on about how politicians should be open to dissent, criticism and so forth. It goes on to say that ‘opening oneself up with intelligence to criticism won’t harm anyone’ but that closing oneself off to differing opinions or questions will and thus ‘authentic politicians should know how engage in dialogue; they should have the ability to debate, convince, respect – not impose or gag alternative voices’.

It’s all very well for the catholic powers-that-be to indulge in this sort of moralizing and preaching, considering the fact that they would never; have never, tolerated dissent, criticism, debate, or anything that might suggest a dialogue and have done exactly what they propose politicians do not do: impose and gag. Apparently their doctrine is so fragile that ‘criticism won’t harm anyone’ does not apply in their particular case.

Will anyone call them on their hypocrisy?

Time to Change your License Plates!

Life in the Yucatan

Every few years, the government in the form of its’ state police, decides that all of us drivers need a little more stress in our lives and decrees that all license plates must be exchanged for new ones. Just because.

Actually there are a few reasons for this move, among which are the following:

  • to detect stolen vehicles
  • to detect vehicles brought into the country illegally
  • to ensure that those people who haven’t paid their stupid tenencia tax, have to get with the program

This year, I decided not to do it myself, having just purchase a second hand vehicle (see photo on the right) that had a string of 5 invoices before my transaction, making the whole process that much more fun. The previous owner hadn’t officially changed the title of the vehicle, which was still in the previous (before him) owners name. All the tenencias were paid and up to date, but the vehicle had to be officially changed over to my name, as well as getting the new plates.

So I decided to hire a tramitador, which is a guy that will, for a small fee, do all the footwork and arguing with the cerebrally challenged officials to get the paperwork through properly. He will also grease any palms necessary to make things smooth and relatively effortless, since the police department will make every effort to thwart your attempt to put in order your vehicles status.

My day started the afternoon before, when I received a phone call from the secretary of a friend who was coordinating with the tramitador. She informed me that the next day I was to take my car to the ‘peni‘ which is short for penitenciaria or the former Merida penitentiary. I had already given her all my vehicles’ papers, and personal ID including passport and FM3, photocopied of course.

At 7:30 AM, I was at the requisite location, found a parking spot and proceeded to find my man. I talked to him briefly (he was in the front of the line after having basically camped there since 8 PM the night before. You see, you don’t just show up and do your thing. No, you must get there early and since the entire state of Yucatan has to jump through this hoop, they assign a limited number of turnos in the form of numbers. Once you get your number, you are guaranteed to get in that day. Then you wait. He was Number One. He told me to hang around and at maybe 8-8:30 AM he would know something.

So I waited. Thankfully the weather was cool and dry; the sun did come out but it wasn’t a scorching day in April by any stretch of the imagination. Food stalls were scattered around the police station and peni area, selling everything from cochinita to the usual Sabritas and other junk food.

At some point, since he hadn’t called and my hunger was getting the best of me, I sampled my first food stall. This was the cochinita set up outside the peni, where one could order tacos or tortas de cochinita. I ordered torta de maciza (all meat) instead of the surtido, which is everything from bits of rubbery ear and chewy feet to sloppy innards and crunchy skin. The bread was slightly warm still and the roast pork was delicious, dressed with some pickled onion and with several spoonfuls of nose-watering habanero salsa to cut the fat content. Highly recommended. I then plugged in my iPod and listened to another chapter of Pillars of the Earth.

At 10:30 AM my man on the inside interrupted the continuing saga of Jack, Earl William, Prior Phillip and Aliyena by calling my cell phone and informing me that I needed a telephone receipt to provide proof of my residence. I had included one in my name, but for my business. No, the police needed the one from my house. OK, I said, but I will have to get it from home, which is halfway to Progreso. I’ll wait, he answered.

Off I went, along the always charming and traffic-clogged Jacinto Canek avenue to the periferico and on to the Progreso highway, to the house and then back the same way with the telephone bill from November beside me. At the busy periferico Jacinto Canek intersection, he called again and asked grumpily where I was; the police were getting impatient. I explained that I had had to go home, home was a ways away but that I was now on the way back. OK; but hurry, he insisted.

I finally arrived again at the peni; no where to park so I just drove up to the door of the police station where you can’t park and he came and got the receipt. ‘You can’t park here’, he reminded me.

After a few trips around the peni, I found a parking spot and went into the parking area inside the police station; there is a parking lot along with several other government offices; I decided at this point that I was getting hungry again and settled on a small stand under a flamboyan tree. Apparently the guy’s name is Chino, since that is what the students eating there called him. Here, I had the most amazing Pibito! This is a small, individual sized pib (remember those mucbilpollos aka pibes from Dia de Muertos?)

It’s round, like a dinosaur egg, golden in color from the achiote, crispy on the outside and inside, a soft and exquisite blend of masa, pork and seasonings. Our friend Chino grabs one from under a towel-covered basket, stabs it with a spoon revealing its soft insides, and then slops on pickled cabbage and a thick tomato sauce. This is an amazing treat and I would go back to the police station just for this!! I also tried one of his kibis, but the flat, dry and somewhat flavorless crunch of cracked wheat was a let-down after the huge pibito.

I then retreated to a shady tree to nurse my aching and distended stomach and listen to some more of the Pillars.

At 1:30 PM I got the call. It’s time to come in and pay, said my man on the inside. Bring the old plates. In I went, the payment was made and in no time I had new license plates! After all that it was around 3 PM when I finally got home and had a nap to make up for all that exertion.

The cost of his services came to a whopping (not!) $300 pesos. I paid him $400. Viva Merida!

HSBC – Part Two

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

The automobile financing through HSBC was a bust.

After several more phone calls back and forth with my crest-fallen ejecutivo, who would have loved to have made his December quota of loans, and was prepared to go as far as to remove my mothers maiden name from the six-year-old bank records in order to have the loan application be approved, it became apparent that the loan was not to be.

At one point he even admitted to me that upon filing the paperwork, he ‘discovered’ that I had been registered as a ‘Mexican’ and that is why I had been assigned the second last name, just like any normal Mexican national would have. I found this just a little hard to believe and asked him why then did they have a Canadian passport on file as the principal form of identification for this Mexican and was this common, for Mexicans to use foreign passports to identify themselves. He insisted that I was indeed a Mexican in their ‘sistema‘ at which point I mentally closed the HSBC credit application door and decided that either they were completely incompetent or mildly retarded (no offense to anyone suffering from mild retardation).

At the same time, when I sensed that the credit application at HSBC was not going anywhere, I had gone ahead and processed the same information through Scotiabank. (In the interest of fairness, I did inform the HSBC executive of this move) Interestingly, although I was a complete stranger to them, they did NOT require a co-signer for the loan application. Apparently, they did approve the loan, but again, the stumbling block was my mothers’ maiden name; and some sort of ID was needed that had that name on it. The salesman at the car lot insisted that it could be anything, even the most absurd little piece of identification since he ‘knew’ the manager of the bank branch in question and that she knew me and that it would be enough to see the maiden name on something.

Nothing came of this loan application either, but it is notable to compare the attitude and flexibility of Scotiabank, where I have never had an account, to that shown by the trogloditos at the ‘world’s local bank’ where I have banked for six years.

And what about the car, you ask?

Well it turns out that a neighbor was selling one of his cars and lo and behold, the price was right and the amount he was asking fit right into the amount left in my pocket after paying off some debts after the sale of the yellow car!

End of story.

HSBC Merida – Possibly the World’s Worst Bank?

Inspired, Life in the Yucatan

HSBC – the worlds’ worst bank? Maybe not. But they are definitely in the running.

Besides implementing such shoddy hiring practices that have resulted in the lower primates appearing at the front lines of the banking industry in Merida, they have provided me with this latest gem in banking logic that defines Mexico for me (the admittedly neurotic foreigner) in all its Kafka-esque wonder.

Having sold the Yellow Car, the neurotic foreigner aka William Lawson, aka me, finds himself with enough cash for a down payment but not enough for a complete whole car; neither a decent enough used one nor a completely new one. So I figure, what the hell, I have had an account with HSBC for the last six years, with HSBC, faithfully – and supposedly – building up a relationship on both a business and personal level with this ‘world’s local bank’ (their slogan, I didn’t make this up)

So I visited a reputable used car lot (I found one), found a reasonably decent used vehicle that I liked and was told that I could apply for credit for the balance through one of two banks:

  • Scotiabank: the only Canadian bank with the balls and the vision to invest and remain in the country after Salinas re-privatized the Mexican banks some years ago (it’s a long story; Canadian banks were very strong, the Mexican government was giving banks away at a way-below market prices, the markets were already established and potential for growth huge), this Canadian Mexican hybrid bank – Scotiabank bought Inverlat – is very aggressive in the car loan market, and offers very competitive (the best actually) interest and insurance rates, or;
  • HSBC: the world’s local bank. Indeed. Hongkong and Shanghai Banking Corporation has taken the term ‘local’ to a level perhaps previously unheard of in the banking industry. They are also aggressive in the car financing area, actually offering a lower rate of interest than their main competitor, Scotiabank. Where they get you though, is in the insurance. They insure through ING and over the period of a longer term, the difference in the insurance will make a big difference in the amount of money paid on the loan.

I decided on HSBC, figuring it would be quicker, since they already had all my info on file, such as income and ID information which would make the application a breeze, while at Scotiabank I was a complete stranger.

It did however strike me as strange and rather onerous that they would ask me for photocopies of my passport, FM3, proof of domicilio (photocopy of my telephone bill). Didn’t they already have all this on file? Well, perhaps they need this because I am a foreigner and something might have changed, although a quick glance at the activity in my bank account would ascertain, that no, there was plenty of movimiento, money coming and and going out daily, as in any business.

In addition to the above, it turned out that my bank needed a co-signer/guarantor, because I was, after all a foreigner. Make a note of that. At this point of the application, I AM A FOREIGNER. So, along with everything else, a photocopy of my wife’s ID and a completed application signed by her as co-signer of the loan. I have the bank account, the debit card and a credit card issued by this very same bank, that I have had the misfortune to max out this past September October November thank you very much and only pay the interest on.

But, I need a car and don’t have that last chunk of cash. So I am thinking: whatever.

My income information, I was assured, would be pulled from ‘el sistema‘ so it wasn’t necessary to provide photocopies of three months of banks statements. Well thank goodness for that. As my new friend Lynne would say, with just a touch of sarcasm ‘happy dance’. Not.

Later on in the day, after not receiving the promised phone call, I managed to contact the ‘ejecutivo‘ who informed me that ‘chispas‘ (literal translation: sparks, but actually a euphemism for ‘chinga‘ which is much worse and considered a ‘bad’ word) there is a problem.

The problem is that the ejecutivo needs an ID with my second last name on it.

This is where the fun begins. As you may or may not know, in Mexico, people use their second last names ie mothers’ maiden names. Thus, William Lawson becomes William Lawson Walker, for example, Walker being my mothers’ clan, who also became famous in their own right in the world of scotch – you may have heard of them. Whether or not this is a good thing or a bad thing, I will leave for another day, but that’s the way it is here. Unfortunately, it’s not the way it is in Canada, the USA, Germany or most anywhere else…

So my bank, the bank I have been dealing with for the last SIX years, has me on file with both my last names. At some point, upon opening the account, they asked me what was my mothers maiden name and I told them. At no point did I show them an ID with my mothers maiden name on it because such an ID DOESN’T EXIST.

When I applied for a credit card, they issued me one, with the offending second last name ON THE CARD. When I applied for an increase in the limit on said credit card, it was approved, OFFENDING SECOND LAST NAME AND ALL.

Now, it appears that they need some sort of ID to validate this strange last name that has somehow come to their attention. After SIX years. This is the bank I have been dealing with for the last six years. They have my personal and business accounts.

My business is registered with the Mexican version of the IRS, called the SHCP, under my name which is my FULL name and that includes my mothers maiden name. So when the fine HSBC ejecutivo offered to ‘remove’ the offending last name I kindly reminded him that such an action would cause some serious problems with the federal tax authorities, he had to concede that yes, that would be a problem and repeated, in a hopeful but sad little voice ‘chispas‘ couldn’t I find an ID that had my mothers’ maiden name on it?

……………………… to be continued ……………………..

More on Tourism in the Yucatan

Life in the Yucatan, , ,

Staying on-theme with the tourism comments in the previous posts, I wanted to quickly give you my impressions on the state of the art facilities at Ek Balam.

Ek Balam is one of those Mayan archaeological sites that is not in the same league, promotion and money-invested wise, as say, Chichen Itza and Uxmal, it’s more famous cousins. Along with Mayapan and places like Aké, it is a site seen by far fewer visitors and usually only on the itinerary of the more die-hard Yucatan explorer.

There is, however, some government involvement in the restoration and running of Ek Balam and so we have the caseta de cobro where all visitors must stop and pay their fee to enter the site. Presumably the entrance fee covers basic maintenance and the salary of the sour-faced employee who has no knowledge of basic math (addition and subtraction) and is allowed to have no change on hand for breaking anything larger than a 20 peso bill. Also, and in spite of being a government-run site, which should imply some sort of amiable exchange rate for the almighty dollar, the rate offered is considerably less than that provided by the banks.

The highlight of the awful, unpainted concrete monstrosity making up the entrance is – as is so often the case – the bathroom. Maybe I have a bathroom fetish but as a resident of the Yucatan and occasionally charged with the responsibility of ferrying relatives and friends to these ‘touristic’ places, I feel enormously embarrassed at the crude-ness of the facilities provided to the tourists our government is trying to woo.

Please look at the photos below. This is the welcome, as in the case of the previous post on Progreso, that tourists and visitors will have should they require the use of a bathroom. Next to the toilet, please note the traditional waste paper basket containing used toilet paper. Heaven forbid that they should make the effort to actually install a proper septic system that can handle toilet paper! And after your precarious hovering experience – note the absence of any toilet seat or something to hold onto when you are in fact, hovering – with the toilet, you can proceed to the modern ‘sink’ and dip your fingers into that charming little plastic dish of brown liquid soap, where unknown hands have dipped before you.

This primitive set-up would be fine if perhaps, I was camping, although I have seen campsites with outhouses that look more hygienic. Or visiting someone who was very poor.

But this is a federally (INAH) and state (Secretaria de Turismo or Cultura) run attraction. They spend all kinds of money, not so much the INAH but the Tourism people, on ads and campaigns and and and to get people to come here. Then, when they do, they offer them this.

Yes, the Mayan civilization was very advanced and has left a cultural legacy that has endured for thousands of years. Those days, however are gone.

In the absence of anyone in government building or doing ANYTHING these days to make the Yucatan more attractive or even a better place to live for its inhabitants, these Mayan sites are a cash cow for the mindless, unimaginative and self-serving bureaucrats that run them today. They should be turned over to the private sector and all the leeches living on the proceeds of the Mayans remains should be forced to get a real job.

Cruiseship Tourism and Progreso

Life in the Yucatan,

I have been saying lately, and after having lived here for 20-plus years, that the real name of Progreso should be Atraso, since the word progreso means progress (atraso means the exact opposite) and that is the last thing that this little town has seen in the 20 years of my living here.

Cruise ships arrive at the port and disgorge inordinate amounts of somewhat curious tourists (they can’t be that curious if they are taking a cruise) who then either take some sort of guided tour or amble about the town, Corona in hand, oblivious both to the stares of those locals who are working or going to school and also the shouts and whistles of the simian-like vendors trying to bring the tourists’ attention to whatever trinket they are hawking on little tables set up on the crumbling sidewalks.

The tourist busses from the ship arrive at the Casa de Cultura (House of Culture, or Cultural Center) which as its name implies, showcases the culture, or in this case complete lack thereof, of the town. While I am not dissing the people of Progreso per se, I certainly am dissing the authorities that over the last 20 years have done nothing tangible for the people of Progreso, nor have they made any effort to make the port attractive in any visible way.

The “Cultural” Center itself is a maze of pseudo market activity (it only materializes on cruise ship days), with everything from honey to stone to clothing. Anything produced in the Yucatan in it’s infinitely limited variety is on display, one booth differentiatable (is that even a word?) from the next only by a different yawning or gum-chewing and completely bored person staring listlessly into the distance, numbed by the sheer number of chubby foreigners walking by.

There is a long lineup of tourists waiting to have their turn at purchasing one of the many ‘authorized’ tours available; Dzibilchaltun, Merida and points beyond. One couple mentioned they had paid 28 USD for a trip to the Marina Silcer, presumably to drink themselves into oblivion or something since I cannot for the life of me imagine what else they would do there.

Another table set up sells the Progreso tour, which takes place on giant, partially painted metallic structures on wheels that in a previous life had perhaps been busses, but are now double decker open air cattle corrals with blue seats upon which the hapless tourists perch their generally ample bottoms, while enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of Progreso. The ‘guide’ is up front, microphone in hand, pointing out the few highlights that remain after decades of neglect, which logically includes those shops that have good prices (and have most likely previously paid for the privelege of being named in the tour) in a Cancun way that anyone familiar with the ‘hey amigo‘ time share crowd will recognize immediately and with some concern.

You can buy Cohiba cigars right there on the street! Yes, authentic cigars for those victims of USA foreign policy and addicted to tobacco. I am unqualified to judge whether or not these are real, but we are in Mexico and anything is possible; therefore, I have my suspicions.

Back to the ‘Cultural’ center; inside, there are barely-painted walls with works of art ie paintings hanging on them along with a plastic nativity setup complete with Chinese lights. The paintings are minimally lit. Not minimalist. Minimal. Some flourescent tubes here and there.

In one corner, and deserving of a very special mention, are the bathrooms. These are a particularly 3rd world welcome for those tourists needing a WC. There is a table featuring the lady with a shallow basket containing previously torn pieces of toilet paper (there is none inside) and another basket that sports a hand-lettered black felt pen sign: “Tips”. You must tip to pee. Men are waved into their bathroom (which has a sign, but perhaps you will miss it and this gives the lady a chance to ‘earn’ her tip from you) while the women are stopped as they enter their bathroom by the outstretched arm and hand holding a basket full of toilet paper pieces. They stare at the basket, then at the lady and back at the basket, unbelieving and not comprehending the gesture. That is, until the lady authoritatively says – in what is probably a major portion of her English vocabulary – “toilet paper!” Then it suddenly dawns on them as to what they can expect inside and they gingerly take the pieces they feel will be needing.

I did peek inside the men’s stall and was able to confirm that there is no semblance of an actual toilet seat, just the bare porcelain over which you will suspend your anatomy as… well you get the picture.

Washing your hands will also present the no-soap and no paper towel dilemna, unless of course you ask the lady outside – I am sure she can help.

This is the environment in and around the Progreso de Castro Cultural Center. A truly retro and cliche-reinforcing welcome for the very people Progreso claims it and the Yucatan government is trying to attract so that there can be some economic trickledown.

Bullshit I say.

As citizens and residents of the state of Yucatan, we should be insisting that all that money being wasted on the promotion of the Yucatan should be put to better use and all those doing the promoting, via trips to New York and Barcelona tourism shows, should be fired and then jailed for fraud. Other immediate steps should include:

  • firing without any indemnization of whoever is in charge of the Cultural Center; this is a shameful disgrace and absolutely disgusting and the department of health should shut it down
  • bulldozing all abandoned and wrecked buildings on the beach front; they are an eyesore
  • immediate firing of whoever approves new building plans for beach front and other areas properties. Some of the new constructions are so god-awful ugly that Fidel Castro would be ashamed to have them in Cuba and would look actually better in some war-torn place like Fallujah. It says a lot when one of the nicer buildings on the beach is an OXXO
  • send whoever is left to Campeche to learn how make a malecon (boardwalk) properly so that tourists and locals can enjoy the beachfront safely and in comfort.

There are more of course. But this would make a great start.

All in all, a very entertaining morning!