Heading to Toronto

On Friday I will return to Toronto via Westjet. We have had a wonderful, delicious even, four months here. Two years ago we had two months, at the end of which we could even have enjoyed a third. So last year we stayed three months, which easily led to this years’ four. Who knows where all this could lead? Six months eventually? There are people from Canada and the USA who basically live here year-round, travelling to visit family and friends, but basically stationed here. I think that the most difficult months for northerners like us to bear are in the late summer/early fall when the humidity escalates tremendously. There are places in Mexico away from the ocean and at higher elevations where this is not so, places near Mexico City and Guadalajara, for example. Still, Toronto has a strong pull for us for so many reasons that it is unlikely that we could ever totally relocate ourselves.

Our building was designed and built by a Mexican architect and a Mexican contractor/engineer, it is built not like the newer condo buildings around Puerto Vallarta in Americana-style, but with clearly Mexican sensibilities. It is a lovely and special place and though relatively new, it is one of the older condo buildings in the city. It has a special heritage aura of its own, one that the administrator, and the board want to preserve. Many of the owners, especially those who live here a goodly portion of the year, are very committed to the building and to the community that it houses. 

As our time to leave draws near, my mind is naturally turning toward Toronto and our life there. We look forward to seeing people and to re-settling into our neighbourhood. The big question for us there is whether or not we will move from our current apartment and if so, where. We have a loose agreement with our landlords to have a month-by-month tenancy. We must give them two months notice if we decide to leave and they must give us three, if one of their two children wants to take over our place, a possibility to which they have alerted us. We plan to investigate a couple of rental buildings on Prince Arthur, and, who knows what else we’ll get up to once we are in situ.

I have been working away over the past couple of months at flight, touring, and hotel arrangements for our long trip in December-January. There are many pieces to the plan as we will be staying in several places – Istanbul, Delhi, Calcutta, Bangkok, Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City, Hong Kong, and Los Angeles. In Toronto I’ll put all of this together and look into visa arrangements for the places where they are needed. It’s fun and exciting to make these plans and we look forward to executing them. Over the next months we will get more information about each of the places that we will be visiting and will refine our agendas.

All the best to all of you. I look forward to seeing people in Toronto and in Michigan soon.

Life in the "Village"

The morning show off the balcony: a school of dolphins or porpoises fishing within a large circle just off shore. Eventually a small boat carrying three fishermen takes their cue and approaches, pelican entourage in tow. The dolphins give them space but don’t abandon their site. The fishermen are encased in large plastic aprons. Two toss and retrieve large nets. The third pulls their catch from a returned net, placing “keepers” in a sizable covered box, while the others continue with a different set of nets. The discarded fish are heaved overboard to the satisfaction of their pelican camp followers. All energetically engaged in obtaining the resources that they need for the day.

Two of the young men who work in the lobby – one who works the desk, the other who provides back up and security functions -- are terrific fellows and we are fond of them. My assumptions were that they were young, single guys as they might be in Canada, but no, both have families: Esmile, about thirty years old has three children; Juan Carlo, who just turned 24, has two. They will go further up the river than on their last excursion, have a swim and eat lunch at one of the small restaurants up there. All three enjoy the occasions of these voyages, getting away from the usual round of work and having a time with some guys.

Our condo building shares some features of a small village. For example, if you want some information or need something done, you ask one of the women how to proceed. If she doesn’t have the answers handy, she will usually know who does and will put you in contact with that person. It reminds me of the way that the communities around Calabogie, Ontario functioned in my grandmother’s day. She had two telephone lines, one at each end of the house. They were fastened to the wall, had a one-ear receiving end, and were operated by cranking in a designated code: one long and two shorts for Mrs Stewart on the Calabogie line. This code would ring in every home on the line but all would recognize it as a call for Mrs Stewart. Of course anyone could pick up their phone, and I’m sure sometimes did, and listen in to the call. Because my grandparents’ home was situated more or less between Calabogie and Hopetown, they had a line for each community. Mrs Stewart might need to know what Mrs Hendrich wanted her to bring to the Clyde Forks bean supper, but having no access to the Hopetown line other than going through an expensive long distance modality, she would call Gramma, who would run around to the other phone just off the parlour, call Mrs Hendrich for the information, and run back to inform Mrs Stewart. Their home was a hub for local communication.

There are particular women here who serve a similar function. They have lived for some time in Puerto Vallarta and particularly here in this building. Their Spanish is good and they are invariably willing to spend time advising and assisting neophytes like ourselves in topics varying from home decor, good restaurants, and, something currently of interest to us, finding tenants for our unit when we are not in residence. We had only to mention this interest to one of the women, Margaret, to be given within the day two possible candidates. Quickly the word gets about that our place will be available during two of the most sought after months: December and January next. (This is because as I mentioned in my last post, I will be travelling then.)

A second site of communal communication is on the roof at the swimming pool – akin to the water well of earlier places. Each morning that we go up for a swim we see and often chat with whoever is sharing the pool with us. Some are owners of units but many are people who come regularly as tenants but who sometimes have difficulty finding a spot for the period that they desire. Three women who come each January from Oregon told me that the unit that they rent is for sale. If sold they fear that their regular berth here will no longer be available. They came to view our place and took my email address to contact us if that happens. Three days ago I spoke to a youngish woman who had been doing strong lengths for some time. As we both rested at one end of the pool, I commented on the seriousness of her swim. She told me that she had had an accident some months back from which she was recovering and that the swimming greatly helped her. One thing led to another. She was visiting her parents who were renting in the building for the first time and the question of availability for a longer period next year came up. I told her about our place.

That is how we came to meet Bill and Marjorie of White Rock, BC. About an hour after I had spoken to Kathy, her daughter, at the pool, Marjorie came to the door, wanting to see and talk about our place. She is a lady about our age, born and brought up, as she said, in Edinburgh. Her brogue testifies to this fact. Marjorie had a look about and a brief chat and returned about an hour later with her husband Bill for a further look-see. They would let us know. The following morning Marjorie came by once again to say that they would like to rent our place and asking for a time when she and Bill could come to discuss it with us. We set a time and that is how we have obtained a very pleasant connection with a couple mutually pleased with the arrangement. So that is how things are managed around here.

Last night I went to an art auction held to raise money for the local library – bibliotecha -- as we say here. All of the works were donated by local artists. Only about thirty of them were auctioned; the others, perhaps about a hundred, were given a list price and could simply be purchased. The library doesn’t receive any government funding and this yearly sale is its most important sustaining event. I had volunteered to help. We arrived an hour early to a building a-buzz with people and activity. On the lawn outside were rows of chairs. Inside artwork was set up on partitions erected throughout the library’s main hall. The works were quite diverse in size, style, modality, and accomplishment. The sale portion of the event was to start at 6 PM so we had plenty of time to acquaint ourselves with the works. Inevitably we were drawn to particular pieces. We focussed on three that we felt we could afford and as soon as the sale opened, advanced to the cashier with our selections. Very exciting.

Unfortunately, for some reason unknown to us our cards would not agree to be processed by the available machines. What to do? The cashier said that we could return the next day with cash to pay for them, but not to be put off, I left and took the bus back to our condo to scoop up my little envelope of pesos, hidden not too convincingly in my bureau. I wasn’t sure that there would be enough to cover our purchases and by then the banks were closed, so I formulated a back-up plan. Sure enough, I was about 300 pesos short. I took what was there and headed down the hall to see our neighbour Marion, another denizen of White Rock. I interrupted her in mid-Skype call with a friend, and demanded the loan of 300 pesos to complete our purchases. But of course! She grabbed 400 for me from her “secret” store and off I went on the bus. By the time I arrived the sale portion of the event had been completed and the thirty pieces to be auctioned were being brought out one at a time to the front of the building for the consideration of a large crowd. It was night by then and the lights, the lawn, the lovely trees, the building itself, and the people made a scene of real beauty. After paying for our now wrapped artworks, we headed home by taxi – a rare extravagance, though in Canadian dollars only about $6 or $7. It was all fun.

On the day last week that I found Alan Patton’s book at the library, I also picked up another book that I had read decades ago: The First Circle by Alexander Solzhenitsyn. The action of the novel takes place in just a few days during the last year or so of Stalin’s reign, so probably in 1953 or 1954. Most occurs at a special prison, part of the infamous GULAG of prisons dotting the USSR at the time, undoubtedly with comparable places today. This particular prison, unknown to locals, was in a building on the outskirts of Moscow. Its approximately 280 inmates had been brought together because of their scientific credentials to work on projects of interest to the Boss of Bosses. Most had spent years already in far less appealing circumstances (though this is relative), arrested and given ten to twenty-five years of prison plus five years of exile on completion, for the heinous crime of “allowing” themselves to be captured by the Germans. They had "clearly" returned to Russia after the war in order to undermine the state for the benefit of their Western masters. Solzhenitsyn is a powerful writer, giving voice to the inner lives of these men as well as to their interactions with one another and with their guards, civilian co-workers, and the powerful leaders of the institute, who despite their positions stand in chronic terror of their own supreme leader. Solzhenitsyn pulls it off with masterful vignettes, great dialogue, a searing sarcasm, and humour. The title is a reference to Dante’s “first circle” the best place in hell that he posited for the great philosophers of the ancient days, unwilling to condemn these men to the fire and brimstone of the orthodox Christian hell for all not sanctified in Christ.

Reading is the best! It costs so little and yet takes you so far. Adios for now.

Lots About Decor

I have felt singularly lazy about writing for the last several weeks. Last year I would have gone on and on, eulogizing Puerto Vallarta in all its many dimensions. Now we simply live here. We enjoy every day and are grateful our good fortune. We have been doing some “decorating” of our unit. We bought a large, antique mirror at a place nearby that specializes in “objet” from older houses; it’s now up over our bed, replacing the ferocious set of masks that used to lurk there. Today we are going to a local paint shop to pick out a colour in some shade of yellow with which to paint the walls and ceiling of our living/dining/kitchen area. Two of the maintenance fellows here have given us a very reasonable quote to do the painting in their off hours. We purchased a new and colourful bedspread from one of the vendors on the malecon a few days ago. I had him come upstairs with me while I tried in on our bed. It looks fabulous and works with the colour on the walls. Today I plan to go out to the fancy-dancy mall by the marina to see what they have in the way of large cushions in solid colours to go with it. Who knew I could be so house-wifely?

Besides all of this action we have been somewhat sociable. A number of the people here are Canadians, mostly from the west, and we’ve been getting to know them. There are folks from Calgary and a bunch from Kamloops, Nelson, and White Rock, BC. Everyone is very friendly and helpful about details of living here. Most of the people on our floor have owned units for many years and spend a big part of the year here. Most are about our age. It’s like living in a village with a bunch of active and interesting friends.

We are planning another of our long trips for this coming winter – something we do every five years: 2000 – South East Asia – Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam; 2005 – Paris, St Petersburg, Moscow, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and China; 2010-11 – Italy and Egypt. This year we plan to be away from mid-December to the end of January, though we will go immediately to Puerto Vallarta on our way back to spend February and March here. We are going to Istanbul for about a week, on to Delhi, then Calcutta to join a Gap Adventures rail tour for two weeks – up to Darjeeling of tea plantation fame, then along the Ganges, staying at Varanasi and Lucknow, and back to Delhi; we will fly then to Hanoi, after a few days hooking up with another Gap tour in Vietnam – Halong Bay, Hue, and on to Ho Chi Minh City; a few days in Hong Kong and then a flight to LA, and on to Puerto Vallarta. It’s really fun organizing these trips. So far we have our flight to Istanbul booked, as well as the two Gap tours and some extra hotel nights in Calcutta. Because much of the other itinerary occurs in January, the flights and hotel accommodations are not yet available on line. If any of you are interested in any parts of our trip, consider yourself invited to come along.

I’ve been reading a bunch of very good detective novels by Martin Cruz Smith, Scott Turow, and Minette Walters. In our local used book store I came across a well-written book by Le Ly Hayslip, entitled When Heaven and Earth Changed Places. Le Ly was born in a village close to Danang, Vietnem. She was about 11 when the war with the French had ended and that with the Americans was beginning to heat up. Danang is in about the centre of the country. Though it was officially in the “republican” south of the divided country, its proximity to the north ensured that their area was permeated with Viet Cong. Villagers were divided in their loyalties; punishments for real or imagined acts aiding “the enemy” were meted out by both sides. Ultimately the village was destroyed, along with many others, ending generations-old ways of being and of culture. Le Ly and her family’s story shows in microcosm the destructive effects of that war on the Vietnamese people. She herself and some of her family members found ways to survive and even to preserve values passed on from her father, the most formative influence in her young life. I’m very glad to have come across this story before our next visit to Vietnam. 

In December and early January our friend Karl from North Vancouver, whom we met last year along the malecon, was staying again in Puerto Vallarta. We saw him almost daily out walking and had several meals with him. He grew up in South Africa but left there when he was in his mid-twenties. He talked with me at some length about his gradual awareness of the destructive nature of the apartheid system. His father and essentially the community in which he grew up supported it. At the local library a couple of days ago I came upon a copy of Alan Patton’s Cry, the Beloved Country. I read it decades ago but remembered it as a beautiful and powerful work. I brought it home with me and have been reading it since. Patton wrote it in 1947 and it was published just months before the election of the Africaner government that established the laws governing apartheid. The book details the already growing destruction of the culture and values of the tribal system in South Africa through the economic development of the dominant white society.

And so life goes on here, one day at a time, like everywhere else. I have to say that I am very happy and enjoying what each day brings to me. All the best.

The World We Live in Now

It’s been a couple of weeks since I have written anything. Around that time I became aware that I had become quite overwhelmed with the material I had been reading about the Holocaust. People have asked me about that in the past – how I was handling the horrors of the things I was reading and writing about? Other than just after our visit to Auschwitz, I haven’t had any serious difficulties with it. For a few weeks before Christmas, however, I was reading some searing first-hand accounts of living and surviving in Auschwitz, written by Polish men who had managed to stay alive there. I also read Martin Amis’ brilliant but devastating novel The Zone of Interest, which is set in Auschwitz during the last couple of years of the war. These various pieces were a potent mix, substantially different from reading some of the other more academic texts that I had been studying.

I’ve had the experience of being overwhelmed in that manner before, though not for many years, and I recognized that I needed to take a step back and to simply live here and now in my present life, and not as I was beginning to feel, almost as though I was living in a parallel universe called Auschwitz. And so that is what I have been doing. I talked with my friend, Maureen, about what I had been feeling, and I deliberately stopped reading the vast array of Holocaust literature that I brought here. Instead I’ve been reading some mystery novels, supplied by the used book store around the corner from our place. I haven’t indulged in that kind of reading for some time and it’s been fun. I’m not certain when or in what way I will go on with the exploration that I had been making about that period of our collective history that we designate “The Holocaust”, but for sure it has become a deep part of my understanding and appreciation of what we humans are about.

In the past several days, like people everywhere, we have been following the horrific incidents in France. We get the New York Times several times a week and have Shaw cable and so are connected with CBC, CNN, BBC, and other news channels. This is the world we live in now. Extremists can and do strike anywhere. However, the proliferation of these events is stimulating dialogues among different religious groupings and nations that might have been unimaginable previously. Even though there are enormous divides, for example, in many European countries about the perils or benefits of Islamic immigration, I believe that the world is moving toward another stage of understanding with respect to what is politically and communally needed to undermine and discredit extremists. No individual country or people can now protect or insulate its people alone. Muslim political and religious leaders are taking harder lines publically against the outrages perpetrated in the name of Allah. We live in interesting times.

In the meantime for us, life goes on gloriously here in Puerto Vallarta. It’s a simple life, oriented around being able to walk outside without the constraints of winter, organizing some changes to our condo, getting groceries and deciding on meals at home or out somewhere on the malecon, some telephone sessions for me and internet, reading and relaxing. More and more we have a genuine feeling that we live here – it’s one third of the year and that is a substantial portion. We’re not just tourists anymore. At the same time, at the back of our minds is the fact that when we return to Toronto we will be engaged in finding a new place to live. We’ve decided to buy a condo and have been looking at what is currently available on mls.ca. That’s always fun. There are places available more or less in the area where we want to live and more or less in the neighbourhood of what we can afford, but we will have to wait until we get back at the end of March to go around to see places and to get a “feel” of what it would be like to live there. I like all of that so I look forward to it.

I hope all are well and doing better than I would be if I was spending the winter in the chilly northland.

A Holiday Time

It’s Christmas Eve. Here, like in many countries, it is the special time for Christmas celebration. Families go to an early evening Mass and then retreat to their homes for a feast and for the giving of presents, or, first the feast and presents and then  midnight Mass. This is a very Catholic country, with a pious population, as the celebrations from December 1-12 for the Virgin of Guadalupe reveal every year. For me the Christmas period will be very simple, with mostly quiet days. Actually most of our days here are fairly quiet: walking on the malecon, swimming, reading, eating, more walking and reading and eating, with maybe a nap thrown is as needed. Several times every day I am struck by my good fortune in being able to spend the winter in this beautiful place. 

I recently got busy consolidating and then getting rid of a tonne of “stuff” left in our condo by the previous owner. These condos generally sell as does a cottage in Ontario – contents included. The walls as well as most surfaces were covered with a hodge-podge of pictures, masks, and other assorted objets. Drawers in the dining area cabinet contained candles, paper napkins, old books and papers, pieces of material, place mats, and etc.  In the second bedroom drawers held sheets and towels never used as housekeeping supplies these as needed. I pulled everything down and/or out, putting them on the cabinet and the dining room table. Our gal who comes six days a week to spruce up the apartment, picked out things that she would like to take home, and went off with four garbage bags full. Two of the fellows from the front desk came up and took away the rest in bags and in a large box. They planned to give the things out to the other staff as well. In the centre of the living space was a large dark wooden table with six uncomfortable straight-back chairs and the aforementioned cabinet with drawers. We had a couple of the lads come up and help us to shift it all around: the cabinet against the back of the kitchen bar – to be used to hold papers and work materials; the table up against one wall, and, the chairs distributed about the edges of the room – at least for now. When we find better chairs, these will go to Mercedes, a woman who is our interpreter with the lawyer who has organized the sale of the condo from Suzanne to us. Mercedes recovered the cushions on our balcony chairs for us; I’ve put the remaining material over the newly side-lined table. All of this has given us a more streamlined and open space. Lots more will have to happen – probably a kitchen revamp but that will have to wait to next year. If you want a refresher on what the condo looked like when we took it over, go to the third post on my blog www.puertovallartaphotos.blogspot.com

The people who work here are so genuinely nice. One of them is a handsome 23 year old who lives with his girl friend and their two children: his 3 year old “princess” and his 11 month old “champion.” He has been working here on security and the front desk for several years as he has put himself through university. He will graduate in April with a business degree. He is taking an English course now as well. A year ago he had hardly any English but has gained quite a bit since we last saw him. He says that his greatest difficulty is  understanding what is said to him during a conversation and then finding the words quickly enough to respond. I asked him if he would like me to point things out when we spoke; he would. It’s little things, like saying he would look for another work, instead of job, or, his daughter has (rather than is) 3 years old. He entirely shines when he speaks of his kids. Our “maid,” Ilea speaks little English but doesn’t let that stop her. She chats away to us until we get the idea – all with lots of laughs and tries at the words in Spanish and/or English.

Tomorrow Catherine and her housemate, best buddy, and sister-in-law, Emily Smith will host an elegant brunch for Emma, Theo, Gregory (their cousin), and Catherine’s dad, Maurice, at their home in Jackson’s Point. I will call and chat with them over Skype -- always a lot of fun. Elizabeth and Billie are in Vancouver but are coming here to visit for eight days in early February. We all look forward to their being here.

I’ve been reading a lot of books since we arrived; usually I’m looking at several at once. Martin Amis’ recent The Zone of Interest, set in Auschwitz, I found harder to read than some of the straight narratives of survivors. He manages to portray through literature some of the utter moral decay of people like Hoess who viewed themselves as simply doing a difficult job well. I also re-read The Last Just Man by Andre Schwarz-Bart, written in 1959, truly an amazing achievement – a book that pulls no punches about the Holocaust but is at the same time poetically written, ironic, and even wryly humorous. I have with me and have read also Maus I and Maus II, the graphic novels of Artie Spiegelman, who transcribed his conversations and difficult encounters with his Holocaust-survivor father. The AGO has just launched an exhibit of Spiegelman’s original drawings made for the books, for which he won the 1992 Pulitzer Prize. And there are other books as well that I am making my way through. This past few days I have been reading newspapers: 

We got a Saturday Globe and a Sunday New York Times. Roberto had Monday’s NYT and today’s for us as well. Lots to chew on there. In the weekend book section of the NYT, Dick Cavet said in an interview that he thought we ought to read half as many books, but to read them twice. There’s a lot to that. Certainly my second reading of The Last Just Man had vastly different resonance for me than when I read it thirty or forty years ago.

I hope all have a peaceful and happy holiday season. All my best wishes to all of you.

A New Place in the Annex?

Readers of this blog will be aware that last winter we went through a surprising turn of events when our house on Croydon Rd, on the market for a number of months, suddenly sold while we were here in Mexico. The new owners were keen to take up residence there ASAP so, sight unseen (except by my friend, Roz) we leased an apartment on Major St, moving in there just a scant two weeks after our return to Toronto at the end of February. It seems that we are going to be in a similar situation this winter and spring.

All was cosy with our new landlords until they discovered serendipitously that I was plying my trade there. Immediately a major reaction: why had we hidden this fact? I must immediately cease and desist, and so on. It made no difference (especially to the gentleman in question) when we pointed out that this was a legitimate usage of the premises according to the by-laws of the City of Toronto and the Landlord/Tenants Act. Moreover, I had not “hidden” my intentions. It had never occurred to me that I needed to disguise them as I have conducted a private practice in whatever mode of accommodation I have had since 1987. We were threatened with eviction if I did not give them a statement in writing that I would no longer work there. We sent them copies of the relevant Acts covering this eventuality, and, I believe that they consulted a lawyer. After a month or so of unpleasantness, the issue seemed to blow over.

I spoke by phone with our landlady a couple of days ago. She was surprised to hear that we would not return to Toronto until the end of March, the point at which our year-long contract with them expires. Our plan had been to give them rent cheques into the summer and to decide over the spring whether or not to remain. Our options had suddenly become more open by the sale of our condo in Orillia – it will close in early January. I told the lady that I had left more cheques at the house for her to pick up on one of her visits there. She informed me then that if we wanted to stay on that her husband wanted a new contract drawn up and that the rent would be raised. She said that she would talk to her husband and get back to us in a couple of day. We rather expect a new round of unpleasantness is about to ensue and have decided that we will leave our lovely, though by no means perfect, home on Major St as soon as we can find new digs and arrange a move.

This is where you come in, dear friends and neighbours of a Toronto/Annex persuasion: we ask you to keep your eyes and ears attuned to suitable places for us, generally in our present area and of our current size. We are open to renting or to buying, preferably a two or three bedroom place with two washrooms. If the accommodation is a rental apartment or a condo, we would like a balcony (essential for morning contemplation), especially one facing away from a busy street. I have looked on the mls.ca for both rental places and ones for sale in the Annex-ish area. At the moment there is little available, though undoubtedly more will open up as spring comes. But there is nothing like ears to the ground as we often hear about people moving or contemplating moves, even before their places go on the market. OK. You get the idea.

Life goes on here in PV. We have fallen more or less into our usual routines. We plan to go out to a suburb of PV today to investigate used bicycles. From there we will go to a fabric shop out by the marina to select material with which to re-cover our balcony pillows. Yesterday we purchased two small paintings at an exhibit in the restaurant at the front of our building. The exhibit was held by one of the residents here and three other women with whom she shares work space. We are much given to discussions about redecorating our condo. We have inherited all of the furniture, pictures, and objet of the lady who had previously owned our place. Now we have to consider all of it and tailor the space according to our own preferences. But there is no rush for any of this.

I’m going to send this off quickly just to get your imagination going re where I might live next, but will write again soon about other things happening here in the (dare I say it?) winter-free south.

A Return to Puerto Vallarta

And so we are back in Puerto Vallarta for another winter, this time for four months – December to March inclusive. Last year we had three months and the year before, two. Who knows what next year will bring? We arrived on Sunday afternoon after spending a night in Mexico City, entirely disoriented and pooped from schlepping about with our four heavy suitcases filled with the paraphernalia one expects to need during one-third of the year. Need I say that much of the transported mass was books? At any rate we are here, making our way into life in the beautiful southland.

We did a lot of walking on Monday – up to the fruit and vegetable market; a visit to a small health food store to check on the availability of Rice Dreams (rice milk); to the open fish market for on-the-spot filleted sea bass for our supper, and, to our close-by “gourmet” market for feta cheese and some lovely French beans. Later we took the bus out to Costco, looking for an electric kettle. We walked all over that enormous emporium, finding no electric kettles, but an over-priced one for the top of the stove. Next, the bus again to Mega – a jumbo-sized general store, rather like a Walmart. Here we found the desired object at a quite reasonable price and purchased it along with some essential beer and wine. Our bus home disgorged one and all about a mile or so from our condo. The yearly celebrations for December 12^th’s feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe have begun: the core of the old town is given over daily to parades in her honour. (I wrote about this feast and also more about the town last year in the first post on this blog.) And so, whether we wanted it or not, we had our first walk along the malecon, even stopping to pick up a container of the gelato at my favourite shop. Later we went along the main street of this area, Olas Atas, to visit Roberto at his shop, and to order the New York Times that arrives three times a week at his place. It was a lot of walking but it felt good after our several days of packing up and of travel.

I am continuing to read about the holocaust. On Friday mornings this fall I audited a course by Doris Bergen at U of T that traced the development of the Nazi state from 1933 when Hitler first came to power, to 1939 when Poland was invaded. In the spring term she will cover the war years 1939-45. I am now going through a tome by Saul Friedlander, his second, entitled: Nazi Germany and the Jews, 1939-1945: The Years of Extermination. His first covered the pre-war years 1933-39 and was subtitled: The Years of Persecution. I’ve had this book for a few years though have not studied it until now. Friedlander puts forth his theory elaborated in his first book, that the essence of Hitler’s bond with the German people was his positioning himself as a “redeemer,” a nicely Christian concept, or Jewish if one substitutes “messiah.” He was to redeem the Volk, the German/Aryan people by purifying it of foreign elements, especially by ridding it of the Jews whom he depicted as sub-human vermin on the one hand, and, world power brokers bent upon the destruction of the German people, on the other. Quite a contradiction to straddle! He also promised the “millennium,” a thousand years of German national prosperity and expansion.

It is interesting to see how the various students of this period position themselves and vie with one another for the best over-all analytical concept. In his introduction Friedlander dismisses Daniel Jonah Goldhagen’s approach in “Hitler’s Willing Executioners: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust.”  Goldhagen identified the basic cause for the Holocaust in a particularly ingrained German anti-Semitic passion. Friedlander also questions the focus of Christopher R Browning on social-psychological constraints and group dynamics in Browning’s book “Ordinary Men: Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the Final Solution in Poland.” However,  Goldhagen gets his own back in a review of Friedlander’s book published in The Washington Post, calling Friedlander’s thinking “woolly,” and in summarizing his comments saying, “Friedlander’s book provides a useful, updated panorama of the events of the Holocaust, but readers seeking more than an introductory narrative will have to look elsewhere.” Ouch! Such is the world of academe! Each of these works, regardless of the particular view they are ascribing, brings a wealth of detail based on recent research and scholarship. Friedlander, for example, makes generous use of diaries written during the war by people in ghettos and even in concentration camps -- hidden and later recovered. Since the fall of the USSR many documents of this kind previously in archives in the east have become available, shedding new light and perspectives on the period.

So I will read the works of all these fellows and learn from each, because as I have been saying for decades, many things can be true at the same time. I want to get a three-ring notebook so that I can put down the important pieces that I come upon in my reading. Otherwise, all the detail and the things I suddenly understand come and go in the ether that I sometimes call my brain as it stands at this rather “woolly” phase of my life. Good to have a record to review and to savour.

We have a new, magic phone that we can use here in Mexico just as if we are in Toronto. It is a 647 number. If you call my number in Toronto, the message will give it to you, so you can call either me without long distance charges. Is that magic or what? It is such a wonderful thing to be able to go out walking freely morning, afternoon, and/or evening and enjoy the breeze off the ocean and the loveliness of the scene.

I hope all are well in Toronto, Sutton, Kingston, Ottawa, Montreal, Nova Scotia, Vancouver, Kalamazoo, Portage, Lansing, or wherever else you might be reading this. Little notes back saying how things are going in your world are appreciated. All the best.