from the balcony

from the balcony

Wednesday, 26 February 2014

The Top and the Bottom of the Mind

I have fully entered into a time of transition. Yesterday I began a list of things that I need to do immediately to tie up loose ends here in Puerto Vallarta and to get ready for returning to Toronto. Making a list is my attempt to keep from overlooking particular bits and pieces any of which if left unattended will cause some form of havoc in the time to come. It’s a practice I’ve developed in the past few years since discovering that I can no longer easily hold a multitude of disparate items in my brain without some just slip, sliding away. An example: after off-loading some books at the library on Monday I headed for the Mega – a superstore some distance from our condo. My shopping completed without a list, I arrived home realizing that the salad dressing that I had particularly planned to buy there had been forgotten. OK, I know some of you recognize this behaviour. Annoying but not devastating. But some of the pieces yet to be cared for could lead to actual trouble if not dealt with. Hence the list.
Yesterday was a full day (people in Toronto who lead truly busy lives with find my little round of activities laughable). But, here are some of the things that happened and that I accomplished: the de rigour walk on the malecon; swim, shower; a Skype session; an attempt to meet with the condo administrator who apparently is only available in the afternoons, so please check in later; a talk with Luis, the real estate fellow with an office in the lobby to discuss his handling some rentals of our condo unit when we are not here; lunch on the beach with Billy, Catherine’s former boy friend from Winnipeg who came by bus from Sayulita where he is vacationing for a month; finding a moving company on the internet and contracting with them for our move on March 15; finding a place to stay in Istanbul before and after our cruise on the Black Sea in October; contacting our tenant in Orillia about the new, larger water heater that is to be installed there; having a Skype chat with Catherine who was home sick with a cold, making plans with her to get together soon after we return; writing to the lawyer who is facilitating our purchase of unit 804 about paying him to set up the needed documents; answering various emails sent from the lady we are buying the unit from about issues like the telephone, tenants she has had, having availability to go into the unit again before we depart to leave some things here and to take some other photos to be used to advertise it when we are not resident; a brief nap (crucial); drinks (water for me, thank you) with Jean and Joe, neighbours on the 9th floor who are from Kamloops – really pleasant and welcoming people who have owned a place here for about 15 years; supper/snack, followed by a walk to Roberto’s to see if the New York Times had arrived – it hadn’t; then a walk over to Santander bank’s ATM for a fresh infusion of pesos, a look at some t-shirts on the malecon, and home; some reading, and to bed.
The above describes an unusually busy day here, symptomatic of the fact that in three days we leave for Mexico City and five days after that for Toronto and nine days after that move house. So many things and people crowd into the brain, leaving little option but to put them to paper least they be overlooked in the rush. Today I will try again to see the administrator to find out about arrangements to pay our monthly fees and other bills associated with the unit, all of which go to the administration office and so can be handled with one lump payment. I also plan to open a bank account at a new place just down the street that apparently has a direct connection with a New York bank. Transferring money from Canada and the USA to Mexico is not always an easy affair, so we are trying to find the most expedition method possible.

Though dealing with so many practical issues, I still make time for reading. Elizabeth asked me a couple of weeks ago if our September trip through Eastern Europe and visits to various camps and museums associated with the Holocaust had satisfied or settled some interest in me about this period of our history. She asked because I have not written more about the Holocaust since we returned home. It became clear to me after a few weeks back in Toronto that I needed some space from all that we had seen and experienced because of the powerful impact that it had on me personally. But my connection with or “interest” in the Holocaust has been a part of my inner life for decades and will always be one of my deepest references when thinking of what we are about as human beings. While here I have read a number of books about that period of our history. 
Currently I am reading A Lucky Child, Thomas Buergenthal’s 2002 memoir of his life as a child in a Polish ghetto, his transportation to Auschwitz with his parents at the age of ten, separation from them, surviving Auschwitz, the winter 1945 death march, transportation by open railway car to Sachenhausen camp near Berlin, and finally, liberation by Polish soldiers. His mother had been told when he was very young that he was a lucky child – a statement fully borne out in the series of circumstances where by both luck and his wits he managed to survive situations rarely managed by children during the Nazi period. In 1946 by another series of fortunate coincidences he was reunited with his mother who had also survived the camps to which she had been sent as a slave labourer. With her second husband (his father had died shortly before the end of the war in another camp) they emigrated to the USA in 1951. Thomas Buergenthal became a lawyer, later a judge, and served for over ten years as the American judge on the International Court of Justice in The Hague. I feel tremendous admiration for people like Buergenthal who have survived such terrors and yet have gone on to lead full lives of value to themselves and to others. But there is great sadness to think of the millions of individuals throughout Europe and Asia who were thrown into the machinery of death through circumstances over which they had no personal control whatsoever. Ours is a strange and terrible species.

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