Isla Fishing Families vs NOAA

This photo of Joplin from the Associate Press captured, for me, the essence of what has been going on in the Midwest. As the blood hounds went out in Joplin MO looking for any survivors, another round of tornadoes hit the Midwest and surrounding area, in places like again, Missouri, Nebraska and Arkansas, threatening Texas as well, pelting Austin with hail.
The l0cal papers are filled with it, just like those north of the border (NOB). And so is the local talk. So when I shopped in Cancun Saturday, I was mindful to pick up a few extra canned goods and bags of rice.
We haven't had any real hurricanes since the Category 5 Wilma in 2005, at the end of my first season here. Carmen, the wife of a local fisherman, says she is certain we are due. She is not alone.
It has been so hot here that as early as April folks were saying it's the kind of heat that brings on big hurricanes. My cabbie in Cancun, Carlos Telliz, was saying last month that we could have a hurricane then! Hurricanes exist to break up the heat building up and it has been building.
I studied the issue a little bit on NOAA websites. There is no statistical correlation between early and active tornadoes and Atlantic hurricanes, including the Caribbean. Dr. Jeff Master's Wunderblog notes than NOAA forecasts a 65 percent chance of a greater that normal hurricane season, but the curve is way off because of the five years WE haven't seen a real hurricane in this part of the Caribbean. Many of us are afraid that will all change this year.

Category 5 doldrums

Mexicans are free to go back to work and non essential government jobs, since the H1N1 flu virus appears to have been slowed through social isolation. That, for the past 10 days or so, was the unwritten rule!
But now, we are free to sit in a crowded restaurant, if only we could find one!
I went to Centro this morning to pay the water bill and enjoy some of Lenora's chilaquiles at Alexia and Geovanny's. I took the long way in, past the church and hospital, past Manana and Ciro's. When I took my table, I looked around the loncherias and among the few customers there were five non-Mexicans and then Donna Jane came in. With me about 8 now!
Afteward, I went to pay the water bill. I saw two people at Jax as I drove by. That was it for my gringo head count.
All in all, Isla Mujeres feels like it did after the three-day hit of Category 5 hurricane Wilma! It is dead.
I cooked in the last two days, saving money to pay the guy who washed out the apartments' water tank, dug up failed zuccini, washed the deck, painted over stains.
At breakfast, I shared a table with Luis, the bartender at Sergio's. He pointed to a newspaper, Sunday's, that showed empty beaches. They are going to be that way again today.
I guess every Mexican dark cloud has a silver lining. The government is giving property owners tax abatements in the form of credit on last years monthly declarations as reconciled on annual returns filed. Also, a 25 percent discount on health insurance paid by employers. All in all, the average small business stands to gain 2500 pesos. Aren't you all glad I pay an accountant to file all the declarations and pursue the rebate?
That is the kind of government action that helped islenos build second stories after Wilma. Now there are also low interest loans available for that sort of thing.
Meanwhile, at the ferry dock, everyone is having their temperature taken with infrared thermometers, coming and going. Despite advise to eat more greens and vegetables, there were few takers when the fruit truck came by yesterday, and almost no veggie ladies on the corners this morning. So I am picking the India spinach and being creative, using it in omlets, salads and soups.
I kind of like the island without a lot of tourist and the favors we are doing for each other. Reminds me of post Wilma days.
My headline of a post earlier "Under the inluenza" is catching on here. Baja la inluecia translates to under the influence, a commonly used phrase in Mexico. Baja la influneza will be our state for a while.

More Wilma

Wilma changed Isla forever. I was reminded last night, when I went to the Navy hospital for a deep gash on my shin. Had I had a tetanus shot? Yes, right after Wilma! They were free then, too. We were crawling around in rubble, at risk of stepping on nails.
Are you a Mexican? No, norteunidense. At which point, the attending physician, ordered the two younger doctors to stand at attention. She pronounced me a Mexican, with a crisp triple salute.
Cost for a peroxide cleaning and butterly dressing and antibiotic prescription to fill, $260 pesos, Sense of belonging, priceless.

Three years ago today...

Hurricane Wilma was taking her first pass at us. It didn't seem so bad at first, a little worse than Emily in July of the same year. But soon, the water started coming in through the frame of my bedroom window, a sliding little door to the outside.
The bedroom was taking on water! Soon the inside of the boarded up house had water in it too.
Since I have a prescription for Valium, to ease the cramping of my multiple sclerosis, I decided to weather the storm sedated. Every time I woke up, I took 5 mg.
The lights were cut off Thursday afternoon. Around the middle of the night, it started. By Sunday, morning it was easing. Later in the day, I took my cell phone to the roof for a look-see and to try to reach my family. I knew if I got a line out, it might be short-lived.
I looked around and called to neighbors in the street. They said they weren't going to work. The water in downtown was chest deep.
I called my brother, who kept trying to ask questions. I said, "Just listen, take notes. When I am done, if there is time, I'll answer questions." I got what I had to say out and we lost contact for days. I lost the coil in the golf cart the day before Wilma and it was down the street at a mechanic's house. He turned out to be a drunk who took money for repairs he never got to.
A merchant from Centro and his son came by, asking if I could take them in while they rebuilt their store. They had just gotten a shipment of Chiapan amber and were concerned for its security. When the lights went out on Thursday, we were automatically in a police state. In the light of day, you could see that everyone - state, federal, local, military, were indistiguishable. All dressed in black. All armed.
The same had happend in Emily and I immediately felt secure. We didn't have the looting and theft that Cancun did.
I had gone to the ATM several times as the storm approached, but the storm packed the ATMS with sand and soon the money would run out. I also had a great stockpile of food and purified water, but was short on potable water since I had a little trouble with the meter going into the storm.
By mid afternoon, there was a knock on the door. The muncipality was delivering a box of food. I said I was fine and they said the docks were out, that is was obligatory that I take it.
There was Maseca, cans of tuna, powdered milk, animal crackers, mayonnaise, several kinds of pasta, sardines, a kilo of sugar, even a little jar of Nescafe.
The next day, I found a cab in the streets and went to see downtown. It was a wreck! The sand on Medina was chest deep. The ATMs were buried.
But everyone was helping everyone. I started assembling a crew to scrape what was left off my compound. I became the first employer in the area and this work would continue into cutting down my cedar, building the fence, painting the house.
I went to the paint store yesterday to pick up paint for the new fencing. The guys reminded me that I was the first, and for a long time after, the only customer they had after Wilma. Jose is struck by the familiarity folks have with me. But I was one of only a handful of gringos on the island and we all stuck out.
I soon ran out of potable water and it seemed everytime I went to the Red Cross, they were already out. Luci and I went to the salina with buckets and scooped up water to flush the toilets with. We loaded it with bleach of course.
In time, my neighbor with the car wash was bringing me water. Oaxaco has a well.
The youths scraped and cleaned. I fixed and fed them two squares a day and sent food home to their mothers. I learned to take Maseca cornmeal and make my own tortillas.
Slowly, the military helicopters began to bring in purified water and some food. I remember at this point, a neighbor killed some chickens and I got my hands on one. I cooked it for the merchants from Centro,but they didn't show up. I decided it was time to steal my golf cart back.
But it couldn't make the two block trip home. I got some kids to push it back and invited them in to take chicken back to their families.
They came in and stood at the counter, eyes wide open. I had arranged a canlelight buffet for my expected house guests. It certainly wasn't what they were used to seeing. I made them load plates of chicken, potatoes and rice. They walked home to familes in disbelief.
It would take a long time to fix the water and sewer pipes, which were mixing in the sea. So, eventually, Corona sent water in beer cans, marked Agua Purificada. We had phone service before electricty. At night, Karina's MiniSuper would take my laptop and cell to charge with tehir generator. In exchange, I'd get some gasoline when I could.
The government decided that of the areas needing rewiring, Cozumel, Cancun and Isla Mujeres, we were "doable," so we got done first. The men came from the electric company all over the county and immediately bought souvernir cowboy hats. I was in Marlboro Country!
The ATMs seemingly took forever, but Western Union was up and running within two weeks. My brother loaned me money to keep the youths working and fed.
Each year since, I over shop for hurricane season. This year, I was exceptional! Oh well. It is all staples. And since the year after, I have owned a generator that I have never had to use. Hopefully, I never will.