M-A-Y-T-O Let's–Go! (But first...)

My friend Dan Guir and I met in Spanish class at Escuela Mexicana. We hit it off immediately talking of travel and outdoor sports, a passion for 'green themes,' and enjoyed chatting about new music and art. He is a super amazing person, one of the gems that I have met while being here in Guanajuato. Dan was a photographer for almost as many years as I've been alive, he's traveled the world and has a portfolio that made me wimper like a street dog. If it wasn't for his awesome-ness, I would probably have to hate him given the circumstances, the fact that he found a way to be a world-travelling-photographer and ahem, made money doing it.

He's one of those people that just smiles, and with that sends off their positive energy into the universe. He's done well for himself, recently selling his photography business, and he shares the wealth. He had a small gathering of friends at this home in GTO a few months ago, and when I could only manage to scrape my jaw off the floor long enough to compliment his beautiful home, he would say things like, "Isn't this ridiculous? I'm still not sure how all of this happened," and would express concern for the small, shackled homes below. He refuses to accept burned cd's, and I think my face might have resembled a bright red helium balloon after I offered him music and he replied, "No, I can't take music from you, feel free to recommend some names, but if I don't support artists in their endeavors, how do I expect people to pay for my art?" I wanted to float away. He also smuggled nearly 15 thousand dollars worth of solar panels to make his ranch in Mayto off the grid, saying it was his version of "environmental activism."

Anyways, when a man with this sort of travel and experience under his belt (or say, the Dalai Lama) tells you that his property in Mayto is one of the most beautiful places in the world... You have to wonder: 1.) Is he completely delusional, or 2.) If this place is half of what he says, wouldn't it be worth it?

We started making plans for my visit. I would take an overnight bus to Vallarta and he and his wife Holly would meet up with me while visiting their architect. (As in, the architect designing their off-grid, solar-powered campground. You can hate them too, I won't judge.)

At about 9 pm on the 28th of February, I'm writing some last minute emails before heading to the bus station for my overnight trip to Vallarta, which was leaving at 10 pm. Plugging in a light in the kitchen and – Pop! the electricity goes out. Now normally, this would have been no big deal. I would have just looked at Katie and said, "Welp, looks like this is your problem!" but unfortunately my roomie wasn't home, she would be coming in late that night from a week visit in her hometown St. Lou-ay, a week of visiting her family because her uncle passed away, and not only would she be arriving late, but she would have to get up early and go to her first job, later to her second.

Guilt set in and I ran and grabbed the across-the-street-neighbor-lady, and told her what was up. She and I walked to the back to the dark house and she opened up one of the electrical boxes that looked more to me like the flux capacitor circa 1800. Because there is a language barrier, I must have asked her three times, "Are you saying push it up?! Segura? SeGURA?!" I could imagine Tim's disappointed face (he's an electrician) when they found my mangled body, "I told her to lift one foot when re-starting breakers!"

Anyways, no luck with neighbor numero uno, and I started to sweat. So I did what I really dreaded doing, I knocked on the door of my next-door neighbor. Katie and I live in a frustrated state with our next door neighbor because a.) he's a prick and b.) a neat-freak prick at that and c.) he wrote an "anonymous" letter from "vecinos molestados" (annoyed neighbors) saying that our house was basically and eye-sore to the neighborhood, mentioning that we don't trim our trees or gasp, clean up the leaves in our 10 sq. foot yard. I knocked anyways.

He came over and brought his wife with him too. (?) We both had flash lights and he wanted to see where I had been trying to plug something in when the lights died. I led him to the kitchen, and amidst about a months worth of beer bottles and cardboard that I collect because I can't bear to throw it away (Guanajuato doesn't recycle) we found the outlet. I thought about explaining that we weren't alcoholics, and that although GTO doesn't recycle I still pretend like they do, and then later Katie will, like a good roommate, throw it in the garbage for me when I'm not looking... But no, I just sat there with a bright red face as his flashlight illuminated the dusty bottles.

So he and his wife, who sort of studies me like I have horns, joined me in the back yard and I wanted to hi-five the dogs as they chewed on his leg while trying to figure out the problem.

No luck. We hung around, I checked my watched every 3 seconds as they moved some cables around and tried explaining to me in very fast Spanish, descriptions and terms that I wouldn't get in english... But I was only half-way listening because after some time went by I realized... Where are the pinche dogs?

Sure enough, my vecina had left the front and back door open, letting all four dogs out into the dark night. I went into the night determined like a Mexican version of the Midnight Ride, except for instead of a lantern I wore a head lamp and had tortillas in my hand. Screaming for the dogs, I decided when I found them we'd be having puppy tacos for dinner.

Lucy was the first sucker, I got her in quickly, the neighbors still roaming around the house looking for an additional breaker. I kept yelling for the other dogs. Nearly in tears, I got a hold of three out of four little jerks, and then in my mind I started drafting a note to Katie that went something like this:

Hey Katie,
Hope you had a great time at your uncles funeral. Um, just in case you are bored when you get home, one of the dogs is missing and if you feel like it, you should try and find her. Oh yeah, and you might notice there is no power. Good luck with that as well. Have fun at your job(s) tomorrow while I head to the beach. I hope everything works out.
Love, Natalie

Finally, by god's sweet grace, we found a second breaker, which was right where you would think it to be – hidden behind a huge piece of furniture. He flipped the switch and the lights came on. I squealed, gave him a hug and his wife glared at me like I had grabbed his ass. As I was writing a note to Katie (same note, just crossing out the line about the power) Fanny, the last asshole dog, arrived at the door. I drug her outside, said good riddance, grabbed all my bags and got a cab to the bus station. Luckily I had bourbon with me...