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Escrito por frostbite desde 126.96.36.199 (125-64-178-69.gci.net) el día sábado, 15 de noviembre, 2008 a las 13:16:40 horas :
Just returned from a much-too-short trip to Zihua to get the house ready for guests. If it wasn't for the fact that the Alaskan winters are so long, requiring an escape to warmer climes in the middle of it all, I would pick November over the other months for a visit. The rainy season is over, the hillsides are still lush and green and there were very few tourists. Bad for the local businesses, but great for those of us that don't care for crowds. I dined well at several of our regular local restaurants, i.e. Daniels, El Mediterraneo and Casa Elvira, as well as new (to me) Trattoria d'Antonio, located in the alley near Coconuts. They offer specials on Friday nights, which I wasn't able to sample because the waiter didn't speak English. Next time, we'll go a little later when the owner's there. We were invited to the re-opening of El Perla Negra, located on Calle Adelita, between the 2 foot bridges over the canal. Highly recommended.
I don't know what possessed me to do this, but I decided to apply for a Mexican driver's license. What an adventure! Day 1: went to the "DMV" office in the Police Academy building with a friend to translate. We were referred to a clinic to get a physical. Took a cab to the clinic where we were informed to return the next morning at 6:45 to get in line to get a number. Day 2: They opened the doors at 7:00 and, after much shoving and elbowing, we finally got a number and sat around waiting for the clinic to open. I was weighed and measured, stuck in my right index finger with a dull needle and then had the finger wrung out like an old dish rag in order to put three drops of blood on a slide. Then, after another long wait, it was off to be seen by the doctor. He inquired if I was depressed - no and if I wore glasses to drive - yes. He then listened to my heart with his stethoscope for what seemed like an eternity and sent me off to pay for his service. The receipt was then returned to him; and after another lengthy wait he signed the paperwork. We were advised to return in the afternoon to get the results. We had lunch, returned for the results and took them to the DMV. I was told to sit opposite a young woman, who was to take my picture and whose blouse was struggling to contain her ample bosom. Not being noted for political correctness, I have no problem engaging in a little ogling, but I prefer to do it discretely, so I stared at the ceiling. "No, no", she said in Spanish, "Look down". Had I been about 50 years younger, I would have asked her for a date... After the picture was taken, I was advised to return at 8:00 the next morning to pick up the license. Day 3: I arrived at the office at 7:55. The aforementioned wench strolled in to work at 8:30 and I finally received the license. No theory or driving test required! It's pretty much like our licenses: picture and expiration date on the front, covered by a hologram security film and on the reverse emergency contact info, a fingerprint, blood type, allergies and restrictions. There's also a spot to mark for organ donations, which said "no", even though I wasn't asked about this. Maybe they figured that an old fart's organs were pretty much worn out and useless.