No More Tenencia?

For those of you who do not have the privelege of owning a vehicle in Mexico, this will be of little interest. For those that do, you probably know it already: in Mexico we have to pay a tenencia, or tax just to own a car. This on top of all the other taxes that one must pay in Mexico, this great land where those that pay taxes (30% of the population) pay for the other 70% who either evade taxes completely – those at the top end of the economic spectrum with good fiscal lawyers – and those who are ‘too poor’  at the bottom, because ‘ay poooobres‘ the government and politicians feel sorry for them.  They don’t want to help them, educate, raise the minimum wage, whatever; but they do feel sorry for them. And so they don’t pay taxes either.

Once again I digress. I was talking about the tenencia.

In a nutshell, it is a tax that is based on the value of the car and decreases as the car ages. Implemented in the late 1960’s to pay for the Mexico City Olympics, it turned into such a cash cow that it never went away.

There has been talk about the tax being unconstitutional and the voices, during the 20 years I have lived here, have become louder and more strident; this tax is obsolete ie the Olympics have been paid for many times over , it is unconstitutional and should be abolished for once and for all.

In the last presidential election campaign, Felipe Calderón promised to eliminate this tax. Today I received an email that explains that he has eliminated the tax at the federal level and has left it up to each state to decide whether or not they want to continue charging this tax. This is why, in a bold and rare move, the state government of Queretaro has eliminated the tenencia tax altogether. Finally, some good news!

So if you are here in the Yucatan and wondering why we pay this onerous tax, know that it is now in the hands of our governor, not Felipe Calderón.

Let's Get a Grippe

I'm no doctor, so don't look to me for medical advice.

Did you, dear reader, know that last year, in the US alone, and according to the CDC, 36,000 people died of flu-like symptoms? I read that this morning on CNN.

We don't know how many in Mexico or even if anyone's counting of course, but there's probably a number out there and its more than 1000.

Let's lighten up, shall we?


CNN

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

(thanks to my esteemed colleague from Cape Cod for the Grip vs Grippe headline modification)

Things I love about here - Mangos

My therapist thinks that my neurotic posts are working, but is suggesting that I also accentuate the positive, as I see it.

There's nothing better than coming home from work on a scorching 40 degree day, with a throat parched from the 40 plus degree Yucatan heat and finding a stash of cold, ripe bright orange with a hint of green mangos in the fridge! I like to eat 5 or 6 at a time, leaning over the kitchen sink with sticky mango juice running down my chin and forearms, taking in that sweet pungent nectar and savouring rapturously their soft exotic flesh...

And no amount of flossing seems to want to remove those tiny little fibers from between my front teeth!

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Time to Change your License Plates!

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!

Ice Hockey... in Merida

Most of you already know that Merida, the formerly white city, now boasts among its many attractions, an ice rink where public skating is offered to those Yucatecans (and people who have that aspecto fuereño thing going on) brave enough to overcome their reluctance to rent skates that were worn by who knows who and take to the ice.

Located in the Galerias Liverpool mall, the ice rink is also used for - get this - hockey practice! Being a Canadian, it was certainly strange to observe a group of kids ranging from 6 to about 14 years old decked out in full hockey regalia, shooting frozen pucks around the rink while shoppers and passersby watched with interest and amusement.

What I thought was interesting was that when the practices were over and a little scrimmage or mini game was played, it became evident that the referees (teenage kids) did not have a whistle! I can't envision any kind of hockey practice without the shrill sound of a referees whistle, and it did seem to make it harder for the referees to get their point across during the practice.

But the overall impression was of how small the world has become, when you can buy salsas El Yucateco in any grocery store in Canada and play (or watch) ice hockey in Merida.

And if you thought that last post was fun...

Here's another one!

When filing your business's annual tax declaration, you make out the onerous paperwork - well, your accountant does because the Mexican tax system is so complicated that it is virtually impossible for anyone to understand what the hell it is you are supposed to actually put in the scores of little boxes and what to deduct or declare - and you file it, paying at the bank via internet since Mexico is such a modern country. Once you have paid and received/printed your receipt, and have verified that your money has been removed from your bank account in order to help promote a comfortable lifestyle for Mexican politicians once they have retired and live in France, you think you are done right? Wrong.

It turns out that there is a little-known and never-used (up till now) in the marvelous taxation laws of this advanced democracy that states that besides filing your declaration and paying, you have to (or your accountant has to) LET HACIENDA KNOW THAT YOU HAVE PAID by means of an official letter or notification. Failure to do this will result in a $50,000.00 peso fine! Can you believe this? You pay and they already have your money, but since you didn't tell them you paid, you automatically get slapped with a fat fine which will presumably cover the cost of Mr. Carstens weekly lunch bill.

This is nothing less than outright highway robbery and a wonderful incentive for investors to come to Mexico to subject themselves to this abuse. Perhaps the Mexican government should consider promoting the country to the International Masochist Businessmens Association, whose members might enjoy this kind of pain.

I am not making this up. I have first-hand knowledge of such a case right now. The accountant alleges that while it is technically his fault because he is supposed to be watching his clients' back, he prefers to fight the fine legally (with the clients money of course).

Meanwhile, for your enjoyment, I will add (in a little while) a photo of Mr. Carstens, Mexico's Minister of All Things Taxable and believe me, he needs the money.

Comment on the Mexican Psyche

Please note that a) this text is in Spanish; b) it was not written by me - I would have been forcibly expelled from the country); and c) it is taken from an email that was sent around when the protests against the CFE (Comision Federal de Electricidad) were taking place and is an answer to an mass email aasking everyone to turn off their lights at a certain time to 'send a message'. This text has been published before, probably even by me, but is still worth re-reading from time to time.

Fox was still in power. Just change the names and everything else will still continue to be true.

Lamentablemente creo que, más que apagar luces, debemos encendernos nosotros.

La creencia general anterior era que Zedillo no servía.

La creencia general actual es que Fox no sirve.

Y, cuando pase el tiempo, la creencia general será que el que venga después de Fox tampoco estará sirviendo para nada. Por eso estoy empezando a sospechar que el problema no está en lo ladrón que haya sido Salinas o en lo bocón que sea Fox. El problema esta en nosotros.

Nosotros como pueblo. Nosotros como materia prima de un país.Porque pertenezco a un país donde la "viveza" es la moneda que siempre es valorada tanto o más que el dólar.Un país donde hacerse rico de la noche a la mañana es una virtud más apreciada que formar una familia a largo plazo basada en valores y respeto a los demás.

Un país donde una persona tapa la salida del garaje de una casa, y, si el afectado toca el claxon para llamar la atención del abusivo y hacer que aparezca a retirar su vehículo, entonces esa persona llega, se molesta y le reclama a uno la presión y el ruido, como si el infractor fuese uno y no ellos.

Un país donde un par de señoras pueden recorrer todo un supermercado, y, mientras compran, hablar pestes de la moral del gobierno y del incumplimiento de las leyes, y de lo terrible de tales o cuales medidas, pero después, a pesar de que su carrito tiene 27 artículos, se hacen tontas y se meten disimuladamente en la cola que es "para un máximo de 10 artículos" y si alguien osa reclamarles o quejarse ante el gerente queda ante ellas y ante los demás como un soplón, solo por intentar hacer cumplir una norma tan sencilla. Y si es la cajera quien les señala que deberán pasar a otra caja, inician un diálogo recriminatorio: "¿ves?, justo lo que veníamos comentando, por eso está este país así, todos son unos flojos , etc."

Pertenezco a un país donde, lamentablemente, los periódicos jamás se podrán vender como se venden en Estados Unidos, es decir, poniendo unas cajitas en las aceras donde uno paga por un solo periódico y saca un solo periódico dejando los demás donde están. Porque si se vendieran así, El Reforma y El Universal quebrarían en solo 3 meses.

Pertenezco al país donde las empresas privadas son papelerías particulares de sus empleados deshonestos, que se llevan para su casa, como si tal cosa, hojas de papel, bolígrafos, carpetas, marcadores y todo lo que pueda hacer falta para la tarea de sus hijos y, además, utilizan los equipos para lo mismo, las tareas y sus asuntos personales.

Pertenezco a un país donde la gente se siente triunfal si consigue volarse el Cablevisión del vecino, donde la gente inventa a la hora de llenar sus declaraciones de Hacienda para no pagar o pagar menos impuestos, donde a Carlos Salinas no le reclama ningún medio el que lo estén viviendo fuera del país disfrutando de lo que robó.

Donde nuestros diputados y senadores trabajan dos días al año (y cobran todos los demás como altos ejecutivos) para aprobar una reforma (miscelánea) fiscal al vapor que lo único que hace es hundir al que no tiene, joder al que tiene poco y beneficiar como siempre a unos cuantos que son los que tienen (ellos por ejemplo).

Pertenezco a un país donde las licencias de conducir y los certificados médicos se pueden "comprar", sin hacerse exámenes ni nada.

Un país donde, desde hace 40 años, un vehículo sufre más daños y sale peor parado después que es recuperado por la policía que cuando lo roban los ladrones.

(ESTA CITA LA HAGO CON ABSOLUTA CERTEZA QUE ES CIERTA, SI SE ACUERDAN ME ROBARON MI TSURU HACE 2 AÑOS Y APARECIO 40 DIAS DESPUES EN ESTADO TAN LAMENTABLE QUE MI PAPA LO TUVO QUE VENDER COMO CHATARRA. Y ESO QUE EN LA HOJA OFICIAL DE LA DEMANDA SE ASEGURA QUE EL CARRO SE ENCONTRO 2 DIAS DESPUES)

Un país donde cualquier persona puede hacer una fiesta y poner música a volumen majadero toda la noche, sin que haya nadie que proteste ni autoridad alguna que les haga apagar esa música ni siquiera a las cinco de la mañana.

Un país de gente que está llena de faltas, pero que disfruta criticando a sus gobernantes, sean inútiles, o sea Fox, porque criticar a los inútiles o criticar a Fox, crea una ilusión psicológica que aparentemente eleva la estatura moral y espiritual del que critica.

Mientras mas le digo rata a Salinas, mejor soy yo como persona, a pesar de que apenas ayer me consiguieron todas las preguntas del examen de matemáticas de mañana. (¡Qué vivo soy!)

Mientras más le digo falso a Fox, mejor soy yo como mexicano, a pesar de que apenas esta mañana me fregué a mi cliente a través de un fraude de cien mil pesos que él me dio de enganche como preventa de un inmueble.

No. No. No.

Ya basta. Como materia prima de un país, tenemos muchas cosas buenas. Pero todavía dejamos mucho que desear. Esos defectos, esa "viveza"congénita, esa deshonestidad a pequeña escala que después crece evoluciona hasta convertirse en casos de escándalo como Óscar Espinoza o Mario Villanueva; esa calidad humana que en realidad es falta y carencia de toda verdadera calidad humana, eso, más que Salinas o que Fox, es lo que nos tiene real y francamente jodidos.

No voy a apagar las luces, lo siento.

Porque, aunque Fox renunciara hoy mismo, el próximo presidente que lo suceda tendrá que seguir trabajando con la misma materia prima defectuosa que, como pueblo, somos nosotros mismos.

Y no podrá hacer nada, igual que no hicieron nada los mediocres, igual que no esta haciendo nada Fox.

No, gracias. No apago nada. No tengo ninguna garantía de que el gritón de Diego o el mustio de Madrazo lo puedan hacer mejor. Y mientras nadie señale un camino destinado a erradicar primero los vicios que tenemos como pueblo nadie servirá. Ni sirvió Salinas, ni sirvió Zedillo, ni sirve Fox, ni servirá el que venga.

O ¿qué?, necesitamos traer a un Pinochet, para que nos haga cumplir la ley a la fuerza y por medio del terror y la dictadura?

A ver si así, cumplimos y hacemos cumplir las leyes desde las más elementales hasta las de nuestra Constitución .

Aquí hace falta otra cosa. Algo más que cacerolazos, apagones o cohetones.

Y mientras esa "otra cosa" no empiece a surgir desde abajo hacia arriba, o desde arriba hacia abajo, o del centro pa´ los lados, o como quieran, seguiremos igualmente condenados, igualmente estancados.

Es muy sabroso ser mexicano, y vivir a "a la mexicana". Pero cuando esa mexicanidad autóctona empieza a hacerle daño a nuestras posibilidades de desarrollo como Nación, ahí la cosa cambia...

Lo siento. Pero no apago nada. Suerte con su apagón. Pero creo que, de todos modos, como país de verdad igual hemos estado a oscuras los últimos 70 o 90 años.

Ojalá que cambiemos todos, porque si no, cambiar de Presidentes no cambiará nada. Porque cambiar de Presidentes, sin que cambiemos nosotros, es lograr que nada cambie jamás.

Piénsalo, y, si te cuadra, reenvíalo. Es un mensaje para todos los mexicanos

YA BASTA DE QUE "EL QUE NO TRANZA NO AVANZA"!!!! TENEMOS MUCHO QUE HACER EN VEZ DE ESTAR PENSANDO EN ABSURDAS PROTESTAS QUE SOLO MANCHAN LA IMAGEN DE UN PAIS BASTANTE DESGASTADA.............

Day Trip to Ek Balam and Ria Lagartos - Part I

A recent outing with visitors to the coastal pueblo of Ria Lagartos via Ek Balam has prompted me to write a comment or three, and will perhaps be of interest to those thinking about venturing out there while vacationing in the Yucatan.

First of all, an early start is required, since you are looking at a few hours of driving. We left Merida at 7 AM and arrived, via the toll highway to Cancun and got off at the Valladolid exit, paying the 120 pesos or so for the privelege of avoiding all the small towns - and their topes - along the way. From there, since Valladolid itself was not on this itinerary, we immediately headed towards Tizimin, the capital of Yucatecan cattle country.

But first, a stop at the town of Temozón. Brief note to the observant: there are several Temozones in the Yucatan, including Roberto Hernandez' hacienda called Temozon Sur, on the road to the Puuc region and Temozon Norte, which is a newly or soon to be municipalized (is that even a word?) residential 'suburb' of the city of Merida.

This Temozon, is the Municipio de Temozon, just outside Valladolid on the Tizimin highway - you can't miss it. A good friend had recommended stopping there since the town is famous for it's smoked meat (pork) and one could have tacos there for breakfast. While we found several 'puestos' or storefronts advertising the local delicacy, most were closed. The one that was open did sell the smoked meat and even gave us a sample, but did not offer taco service until later. As it turns out, he had neglected to mention that you needed to buy the meat and then find a tortilleria and make your own...

Since we were a little peckish, we stopped at the taco vendor in front of Temozon's modest church and had tacos de lomitos de Valladolid, complete with the obligatory pieces of hard boiled egg on top as well as tortas de carnitas. Delicious and cheap. $50 pesos with a tip included.
Then, on to the Mayan ruins of Ek Balam, which is well marked on the same Tizimin highway. We were there in about 10 -15 minutes and were able to take advantage of the fact that it was not that hot yet. Still, the sauna-like combination of the rainy season and sunshine was enough to leave everyone sweating profusely.

After paying the $27 peso entry fee, which does not particulary have anything to do with the 'official' rates posted, you are in. The ruins are partially excavated and there is plenty of vegetation to provide shade. Many facades and details have been restored and the INAH (Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia) have installed plaques with descriptions in English, Spanish and Mayan, of the particular building you are looking at.

The climb to the top of the pyramid, one of the largest in the Yucatan in terms of the actual square meters its base occupies, is a long, steep climb but the view from the top is breathtaking, if you have any breath in you after the climb. It is said that on a clear day you can see the Mayan ruins of Chichen and Coba from this vantage point. Halfway up, is a restored entrance which is roped off, in the shape of a jaguar's mouth complete with giant teeth. This is a detail that is unique to this archealogical site, according to my guide.


Besides checking out the cleared and partially restored buildings, it is possible to walk a path around the un-restored ruins, covered with giant trees. This is what I did and was able to find a midden, or what appeared to be one. As you may or may not know, a midden is a site where the ancients dumped their trash and which is a virtual gold mine for archeologists. This particular midden was in remarkably well-preserved condition, so I took a photo which I share with you here.

After visiting the site, which took us about an hour, we were once again on the road, heading towards Tizimin and our final destination, Rio Lagartos.

Everything was going swimmingly when the sky began to acquire a metallic dark grey color and a few very large raindrops began to spatter on the windshield.


- continued -

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NotTheNews Candidate for Governor

NotTheNews, as a foreigner-published website with a limited readership, has absolutely no right - and makes no attempt to - interfere in the local election process, so I won't even pretend that I am influencing anyone here, beyond stating a personal opinion.

Sin embargo, and in response to a reader's question (previous post) I think that Ana Rosa Payan (PAN) is the best choice for governor of the fine state of affairs that is Yucatan.

She is not even the 'official' candidate yet, but one of three candidates vying for the position from the PAN political party. PAN, for those of you reading from some other place than the tuch of the world, means Partido de Accion Nacional, or National Action Party. The current president, Vicente Fox, as well as his successor Felipe Calderon and the present governor of Yucatan are all from the PAN party which was Mexico's second strongest political force, behind the PRI (Partido de la Revolucion Institucional or Institutional Revolutionary Party). After Fox was elected, the PAN became Mexico's prominent political force.

Back to Yucatan: of the three PAN candidates (lackluster and overtly conciliatory to business Xavier Abreu and over-the-top silly Luis Correa, still riding on his father's many accomplishments) this neurotic non-interfering foreigner believes that Ana Rosa is the only one that has any huevos (and the other two are MEN who should have some, but don't) and will be able to do whatever is necessary to move Yucatan forward, in spite of whatever interests and old-school impediments that might present themselves.

As mayor of Merida, her attempt to modernize the stinking cesspool that is Merida's market was met with much criticism but she actually did something rather than just talk about it. She faced down angry, spoiled locatarios who would have to move their hovels to a different location (they pay next top nothing for the right to occupy these spaces; they should be glad they have a place to sell their crap at all and not have to act like a real business anywhere else).

After seeing her dodge insults and thrown objects as well as a lot of pushing and shoving she had me convinced. Add to that the fact that she has taken her stilted, squawky speaking style and become a lucid and fluent orator (which means she is capable of taking a look at herself and making improvements) has made her a definite forerunner in this race for the governor's postion... IMHO.

Manual for Anarchy (by Jorge Alvarez Rendon)

This is an editorial written by Jorge Alvarez Rendon for the Diario de Yucatan newspaper, which came out on Monday, October 23, 2006 that comments on the state of affairs in this fine country which seems to be rapidly falling into anarchy.

I thought it most pertinent and, as usual for anything written by this observer/writer, extremely well written and to the point. For Mexico is not just palm trees and cheap servants. There are things that anyone contemplating a move here should know; they just might take for granted that these little details, the solution of which would seem obvious and a done deal, were already taken care of. They are not.

I have tried to translate it as closely as possible to the original including the tone as well as the message.

For a little background, read up on recent events in the Mexican state of Oaxaca, the state of juvenile law in Yucatan and student protests in Mexico. The idea is not to alarm anyone, but to really alarm everyone, so that maybe a little pressure will make the authorities actually DO something.

W

---------

Anarchy Manual

It's wonderful and very healthy to be able to do whatever one wants, whatever one feels like doing. Here are some tips on how to go about doing just that:

The first tip is only for those who have their voter registration card, who have a penchant for social revindication and who are sick and tired of historical slights and inequalities.

Go shopping for a straw hat, a red bandana and a can of white spray paint. Get yourself a decent machete (you can buy a quality model just off the Calle Ancha del Bazar here in the formerly-white city of Merida) and head - together with another 200 like-minded persons - towards the city's center. Make sure your that the timing of your procession coincides with that time of the day when downtown Merida's traffic is at it's horn-blaring, exhaust-spewing worst.

Once you are there, do whatever it is you have always wanted to do; don't hold back or hesitate; let your thirst for justice run wild, unleash all your fury.

Overturning cars is good, setting busses on fire better; go ahead and spray paint graffitti on storefront windows and historical buildings, block access to public buildings, kidnap anyone who happens by and destroy anything belonging to the community you can get your judiciary hands on.

You need not fear punishment or the application of any law for that matter. The National Commission for Human Rights is there for you 24 hours a day. No government authority will even attempt to get in the way of your fun. We have spent far too many centuries in achieving this level of freedom of expression to have someone come and reprimand us 'just because'.

Important Note: The mob is indispensable. Do not attempt this alone since this will result in you facing a judge and perhaps being sentenced to 15 years in jail.

The second tip is for those under the age of 17; adventurous, red-blooded youths suffering from misunderstandings great and small.

First, you must acquire a knife in the market known as Bazar Garcia Rejón, where rules regarding the sale of such artifacts are completely and happily ignored. After about a week, the idea is to stand on a street corner in your neighborhood with other under-age and resentful teens where you can show off your new weapon.

One night - any night will do - feeling a little offended, misunderstood or just in a bad mood, you insert blade of the afore-mentioned weapon into the lower abdomen of some person who happens to be nearby and that you don't particularly care for very much, keeping the blade lodged there until the victim is most assuredly dead. When the Ministerio Publico (read police) arrive - if they do at all - it is important not to offer up any resistance and shed copious tears for all the injustices suffered in the past: abuse by parents and teachers, police brutality, globalization, a drug problem etc.

In no time at all, the victim will not be the stiff cadaver, in whose defense no one will speak, but you! We can bet that a psychologist will be dispatched to look into your case, a file will be started on you and a tutor assigned as well. All this will happen in the 48 hours after your detainment, after which you will be set loose so you can get on with your life, no worries. Isn't it great this doing whatever we want?

The third tip is for disgruntled students unwilling to accept internal rules, statutes, federal laws and other minutae that tend to make one's existence such 'a drag'.

Get about 50 students together - either sex is fine - get an attitude happening and start making protesting gestures. The group isn't complete without the six or seven students who have Shakira lyrics wallpapered on their brains and for whom 'soneto' is a Nestlé ice cream product.

Yell as loudly as possible about your rights as pubescents and the future of the country and remember as many old, communist-era protest chants as possible. "Si la leche es poca, al niño le toca" (if there's only a little milk, give it to the children) "El hijo del obrero va primero" (the workers child comes first) etc.

Demand to be able to wear ear and nose rings, tattoos, pendants; color your hair and use any cosmetic you feel like. Insist on the use of cellular phones in class, sale of condoms in the school store. Your opinions must be absolutely respected, even if you demand this in language that otherwise might have been known as foul. Demand also more comprehension from school principals and counsellors. Praise the attitude of those teachers who are indeed, understanding, and do not hesitate to physically remove those teachers bold enough to attempt to restore some semblance of order. In the case of these, there is a formulaic approach that cannot fail: accuse them of sexual harrassment, of groping, of leering and lusting disgustingly. Go ahead and dare to do whatever you feel like. What could possibly happen to them that wouldn't be for their own good? The crime of slander doesn't even exit anymore in the penal code. You can defame someone, walk all over their reputation with big muddy boots, do whatever you want! The SEP (the federal Ministry of Education) will support you and the DIF (federal organism that oversees social programs for the young) will be most understanding.

Be happy

ExPat Quiz Notes

Thanks to JW for an expat quiz found at http://www.ezinearticles.com/?Mexico:-Expat-Quiz&id=66612 which is, actually a little lame, in the Neurotic Foreigners opinion. For one thing, Mexicans don't 'eat styrofoam plates' and 'large mountainous piles of dog poop on the sidewalks' would imply that sidewalks are commonplace. The aforementioned canine excrement can be found much more readily on the many sidewalks of Paris or Cologne.

The expat quiz - IMHO - could be a little more sublime; something along the lines of the questions outlined in the following

Are You Ready to Become an ExPat in Yucatan? Questionnaire.

For Regular Folks

1. Do you like the idea of giving up the newspaper as a source of objective news?
2. Do you enjoy the bumper car attraction at your local fair enough to engage in this activity on a daily basis with your own personal commuting device?
3. While on the subject of driving, do you find painted lanes, traffic signs and other such nonsense to be simply a restriction on your personal freedoms in a libertarian sort of way?
4. Does the idea of spending a week or more renewing your FM3 permit (lo siento, pero le faltó la copia de su _____) on an annual basis make you feel good about governments in general?
5. Do you enjoy receiving bi-monthly electricity bills for peso amounts completely at odds with your actual consumption?
6. When you complain to the omnipotent CFE about the previously mentioned point and realize that it is they themselves who determine - and no one else - what to charge, do you think "Wow, these folks are really efficient!"
7. How about power outages on a weekly or 'whenever it rains' basis? Do those make you think how lucky you are to be able to enjoy conversations with neighbors or dust off that scrabble board and think of interesting words (mayan ones don't count) by candlelight?
8. Do you feel superior and get an ego boost when Mexicans jack up the price of anything they're selling (car, house, rent, whatever) when they see the color of your freckles and hear your terrible accent?
9. Do you enjoy, and find challenging, remodeling your home on a continuous basis, thereby providing employment for many and varied tradespeople, each of whom will undermine the work done by the previous one?
10. Does the adoption of stray street dogs and treating them like pampered family members make you feel that somehow you have changed and become a better person?

If you answer "Why, YES" to any number of these questions, you may indeed be ripe for expatriation. Come on down!

Of course there are many more items and perhaps one day I will put them up, especially those related to work and business ownership.

Halloween in Merida aka Hanal Pixan

The neurotic foreigner writing this always delights in the confusion surrounding what, in fact, Yucatecans are 'supposed' to celebrate at the end of the month of October. The great majority of gringos and slightly misplaced Canadians continue to have some sort of instinctive Pavlovian reaction to the idea of what to do on October 31st, while at the same time being appreciative and respectful of local traditions, which in the case of Mexico and Yucatan in particular, means the Day of the Dead.

Locally, it is called Hanal Pix'an, or Feast of the Souls and the celebration consists of making special foods, mainly the xec, a mixed salad of chopped jicama, citrus fruit, cilantro and chile and the wonderful mucbipollo aka pib, a large tamal preferably baked under ground, where the smoky heat imbues this classic fall dish with a distinctive flavor.

But you could learn more about these traditions from all kinds of websites and pages out here in internet-land. Do a search on Hanal Pixan and you are there. It is not the intention of the neurotic foreigner to pretend to give readers a class on local customs.

One web page you will not learn anything from is: http://thematrix.sureste.com/cityview/merida2/articulos/hanal.htm where the translation has been done so literally and stiltingly as to make it completely and utterly incomprehensible. Done up by some extremely low-payed employee of the local Enlaces y Comunicaciones (or just typed into some online translation web page), it is really quite hilariously embarassing. Some personal highlights, lifted directly from the page above, include:

• The "Hanal pixán ", or eaten of the bores, is a tradition of the Mayan town that takes to the end to remember of a special way the friends and relatives who went ahead in the eternal trip.

Now the dearly departed may be dead, but surely not all of them were bores so as to warrant calling the whole event Eaten of the Bores! In fact, it sounds more like a horror flick by Wes Craven, where poor folks in small villages were consumed and digested by out of work movie critics whose critiques were so boring they were relegated to eating villagers...

• salt but: tortilla to which meat is put to him underneath ollejo and soon is fried to eat. The name is formed by Salt: light, and But: to insert, that is to say, slightly inserted.

I have lived in Merida for close to 20 years, and have never seen this local dish called by this name. I thought it was a salbut. Maybe there is new saltier version out there. And to have meat put underneath your ollejo sounds positively pornographic, even without that last phrase 'slightly inserted'. In fact the definition doesn't make any sense: If Salt in Mayan means Light and But to Insert Slightly what you have is a flashlight up your butt. Really, now.

Definitely have a look at the page! It's a riot.

Oh, and before you get your knickers in a twist and start composing your email to me saying that I am such a culturally insensitive boor and how dare I criticize this poor third world attempt at explaining what is obviously a charming pagan ceremony, let me clarify three things: a) I LOVE the Hanal Pixan and have made altars myself and am an avid consumer of copious quantities of mucbipollos (with or without espelon, limpios or with bones) thereby stimulating the local underground economy; b) the page is maintained by probably the largest and most important media company in the Yucatan with newspapers and more and enough of a budget to warrant a proper translation and c) I have personally offered at one point to translate for these folks, especially in the embarassing tourism translations department, and had no takers.