OR, THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS A FRAGRANT WET DOG.
Alert: So just over a year ago, I posted my sad last days in Punta Allen Mexico. A place entrenched deeply in my heart. I had collected a group of dogs and was getting more and more crazy old bitch, rather than an old bird. Never bored or homesick I felt deep contentment. I have been considering going back as it was the only place I was ever really happy since all the craziness began so please have a look at it and see what you reckon
From my Journal
Can’t believe it’s Wednesday, June 9, 2021, and Sunday I’m due to leave PA. One whole month! I’m panicking now about re-entering the real world. Seeing as the weather is getting progressively worse I will just gossip in my journal for you to get the mood of how things are so changeable down here. A little blow by blow of the intricate workings of Roseliz and Punta Allen.
This morning I went out and took a video of the village walking all around and over to the lagoon where I took that boat tour from, all those weeks ago. As you can see it’s glorious weather again. After I shot the video I had a really lovely breakfast in a small backstreet restaurant. They had put green peppers, ham, onion and cheese in and it came with the usual fajoles. This included coffee that they served with the actual jar of instant and a little jug of cream, a bargain at 90 pesos. It was a delightful little place with shell fly curtains and various bits of art and hammock chairs. It was great to have got off my lardy arse to experience the rest of the pueblo.
Ah just got back and found out that I have till Thursday he rented out a calendar month, not four weeks! Hooray, now I can actually find out some of the history of this place and swim more to further remove my bingo wings and tone up more. Only the tell-tale beer gut lets me down, I generally feel more toned though and my nails are growing fast and strong and I’m finally quite brown. I have decided to work on that more though as I feel I could try harder. I also want to finally finish the huge amount of writing and publish the posts to be completely up to date with my Mexico experience and stop being so sloppy.
SICK DOGS AND A DOG DAY AFTERNOON.
Swimming dog is looking trim but poor Max’s ear became worse, the ear flap swelling dramatically. Hematoma in this environment is a nightmare. We had a kind of family meeting to discuss the course of action. Sonia suddenly asked if I would help lance it to drain the fluid, pus and blood, suddenly I felt sick with worry.
All dogs here have long talon-like nails which is odd considering that you’d expect the sand to act like an emery board somehow. Due to the fact they are mostly strays taken in they never have them cut so when Max first got his ear infection he scratched and yelped at the same time as clearly, he was hurting himself. It’s been awful. I kept saying they needed to get him ear drops and thy said yes blah blah. This continued for days. The furious scratching and yelping. One morning I saw him dolefully shaking his head to one side that was tightly fluid-filled. Hence the meeting. The actual ear infection has gone but in the process, he has a fat ear and this talking of me now lancing it left me with a sleepless night. I was told that a friend somewhere or other had advised a V cut to drain and as apparently you can’t take dogs from here into Tulum for the vets without smuggling them. Punta Allen dogs are apparently persona non grata. I didn’t sleep a wink, sick with worry.
This ‘vet’ had advised this V incise which I strongly protested against. I had said we would have to swaddle him in a blanket and muzzle him and secure a place in the ear flap which wasn’t a vein even with the small nick that I had suggested. Even if Sonia kept him in her clean massage room for a couple of days we had no Elizabethan collars to prevent him from self-harming. Apart from this blood bath that they had suggested we really needed antibiotics and fungicidal treatment. All this by the morning I was strongly opposed to and as soon as I got WiFi in the morning found I was right. I felt no inflamed glands around his ear and neck and he showed no discomfort. He gobbled down a few bits of cake and had been eating normally so Max had a stay of execution.
I explained it could possibly be reabsorbed by the body and if we cleaned it a few times a day with alcohol and oxy water and put some bloody insect repellent (he’s constantly covered in tiny midge like flies)on and got antibiotics we could hopefully fix it without this hideous tortuous intervention. Here, with all the sand and flies, he would be hideously sick with an infection in a couple of days.
So it’s the next day in the Max saga and he’s eating well (I went bought him some posh doggy sachets with extra vits etc) He still is shaking his head but I’ve nagged David about meds If we can fix this way then the worse that can happen is he will have a cauliflower ear like a boxer. Fingers crossed.
Now I have to add the fucking village idiot who originally owned the dog said we should just hang him. Sonia said he was joking, I would have happily strangled him when he said it and I wasn’t joking.
This brought me thinking about the fact they have no medics of any kind down here. I somehow romantically thought that there would be a wise village elder down here to go to for natural remedies and I dunno childbirth and a bit of Mayan sorcery. Nah. It’s just a fishing village made good mostly by fly fishing that big bad boy the permit fish.
Poor Max must get better naturally for the moment, so it’s mostly alcohol, good food and vitamins, which is a bit like my way of keeping healthy too thinking about it! Now I need to concentrate a bit on Punta Allen’s history and take my vet hat off for a bit.
Note to myself: get a video of me and swimming dog together and me in my ‘office’ writing my blogs painfully slowly- I can’t type- and me with all the doggies.
There are four by the way and all are very individual. Alkida the swimming dog who now owns me and sulks if I don’t do exactly as she says, she’s a professional sulker so I rarely disobey her. I only go on walks where other dogs don’t attack her and she now also owns my room during this rainy period. Then there’s dainty Max of the ear, he is very dainty and polite when accepting food and treats and has been oh such a good boy seeing as he’s so poorly. Then there’s the tan one with disarmingly green eyes who spits out food if it’s not haute cuisine and has occasional spats with Max which is normal seeing as they are both ‘intact’. Then the old furry girl with arthritis who is in my office right now as the rain pours down monsoon sty. She arrived mysteriously and is shyer than the rest but now has accepted me as part of the furniture. Oh and by the way I just went to my room and all the other three are in there so basically they and Sonia are my pals. I will miss them so much when I leave, and feel sick with worry about swimming dog as nobody will have time for her daily exercise.
THE VILLAGE
As to the village, it houses, in no particular order an AA shack which is also for drugs depression and a list of all associated downfalls, three supermarkets (if you can call them that), a tortellaria, a big soot-blackened building which I presume is for fuel for the boats, an ice-making factory, tourist rip off hubs, bars, restaurants, hotels and a cooperative building, A Jehovah’s witness building (they just get everywhere don’t they) and a mission school. A police station with its quad bike outside and the cops’ uniform washing hanging out to dry out front. A lot of maritime bureaucratic buildings. The main concrete blue and white park with a bandstand style building in the middle boasts ‘Punta Allen the Permit fish Capital of the world’ and next to it is a very fine metal sculpture of the said fish, a deserted playground and basketball court, and a small footy pitch now overgrown. It’s all very sad and abandoned…
Sonia is just back from doing a couple of hotel massages, the naughty girl, ironically one hotel was called Grand Slam. She is in a white uniform and is very smiley and now I see the fold-up massage bed being transported on Mario’s head to the truck that will transport her to Ascension Bay Lodge. She’s pleased as punch. She’s always somewhat a prisoner of the hotel so an excursion, as well as the money, is and interacting with other people is a real tonic. Life is good and the two love-struck staff are giggling together on the hammock by me. I have a stay of execution with my extra three days here so will actually have time to bring my Mexico experience right up to date.
As I’m drinking Campari soda now I doubt I’ll make it down to ‘Be Fucking Nice’ for my lobster treat.
My Mayan Gods are far from complete, time slips away here like sand through an hourglass but seeing as this is the closest to a desert island I’m liable to achieve in my lifetime I might as well enjoy it.
Friday 11
Well, no work today as my peace is shattered along with my good intentions, the Global Crime Council have now invented a Mexican strain of the flu so have further complicated my travelling. This world sweeping, new pretend thing, that the Mexicans seem unaware of, will now prevent me from returning to the UK even if wanted. The Turds, calling themselves a government, that be will place me in a quarantine hotel at £100/ night and force me to take two of these completely invalid PCR tests. This will come to about one and a half grand. Furious I marched off to the supermarket and bought two costly bottles of red wine. I drank heavily while checking the rules for re-entering Mexico and seeing Belize was my best option got more info on that. Although I have two months left it needs to be addressed. Mexico reassesses every two weeks so you know exactly where you stand. I believe Quintana Roo is now red but and not yet certain. This is their punishment for having had a thriving tourist season. Now the world is to strangle them for their sensible attitude. Pepe and Alex my sangria bar pals are closing shop at the end of the month and returning to the US. He says Tulum is like a ghost town.
This new blow comes at a time when I was planning on going to Oaxaca for some ‘culcher’ innit. They seem still to be in amber but it’s probably enough to close the museums and galleries again. Long story short I got pissed, swimming dog knocked me over in her eagerness to get on the bed first and now I have a cracked rib, yes this time a drunken fall but forced by a big naughty doggy. It’s pissing down too.
Today I’m in agony and staying in bed watching my new downloaded Korean series called Sisyphus and another one called Move to Heaven. I love these Korean crazies.
Finally, my battery drained on all my devices and the electric is down again and it’s pissing down so no work will get done and Stinky dog, for now, that is her name, was shameless about having nearly killed me the night before and harangued me into a swim. The shameless hussy woofed me out of bed and insisted on a walk too. I was hoping that while out, the electric would come back on but no. Men from Tulum had come down but had not managed to fix it before six so had left again. Still pissing down.
This electrical dependence has become a huge realisation for me and although I’m not a one for SM I do like to play Words With Friends and cards from time to time. Luckily my little charger saved the day so I could at least listen to my Norse Mythology on Audible which seems not to drain much battery. This made my now empty day more bearable until our plant was turned on. I asked Sonia and she said, somewhat snappily I felt, to ask David. Seven o’clock was the answer the stingy fucker. Still pissing down.
Boom now we have light! I’ve plugged in all my gear, cleaned my room and even put on fresh sheets, and a shower is now in order before getting back to rest my rib. Alkida offers no privacy and I saw her eyeing up the siesta bed where I had placed my wrap so she could have a kip without dirtying my sheets, so upon finishing my ablutions, which are rare these days, I went to go lie down only to see Stinky sprawled across my fresh clean sheets. It would seem she prefers fresh linen to the siesta bed. Too late to moan so I’m sitting at my table writing this while she dreams her doggy dreams of catching those damn pelicans. I’m finishing the last of my wine while writing this. Still pissing down.
It’s raining again we are due for another three days.
Life’s a bitch and her name is Princess Alkida the swimming dog.
Old Bird Travels Solo! 