Noisy Dog

[DonJuane]

This is an interesting discussion and I can't seem to stay away from it.

I do think if I was going absolutely nuts and the dog didn't seem to be slowing down any and I was even thinking of moving out of Mexico, I might at least sit down with the landlord and say something to the order that you have a nervous condition and could not live next to the dog and would they please let you out of your lease. If you made out like it was your problem (egos are 10x more sensitive here), they might take pity and do something. If they didn't, you could always try hiring a lawyer or just cut your losses and move out one night, back to the US or Canada and be done with it.

These things do make you sick though, feeling trapped, ashamed of yourself for not totally thinking things through or encountering something new and unexpected that pops up and now you're being broadsided. It's even tougher when there's no one around to sympathize. GTO has never been an open arms expat community and like you say that's a great reason for not living here if you are "needy" in the respect of Gringo culture, interaction, sympathy or you name it. I don't really associate much with the expats either but I look at it this way, accepting the harshness experienced around this group as far as Gringos go can be thought of in one way as a positive thing. Of course this philosophy works only if you are on a mission as many of us are of moving into the local community rather than forming cliques and drinking clubs like is so prevalent in Chapala or San Miguel dA. A harsh expat community is the very best inspiration to learn Spanish and find one or hopefully many who you can open up to and feel closer too in the local culture. You see just because a Gringo moves south does not stop them from the clique forming, obnoxious or bragadocious nature, uncaring mantra of "your loss is yours", not being interested in knowing any their neighbors or any of the other things that we Gringos are all so famous for.

And actually this place in not unique. I have to tell you it only took one week of sitting around dinner tables in Ajijic to realize what a dangerous place that was. It was like a Lord of the Flies themed retirement-home park on Alcatraz. Never heard the like of people saying such nasty things about others that I overheard people saying there (and have even read more from them in social media). Close second is San Miguel. One night I remember at Tin Tin Pie hearing some expat Canadians talking about someone who was the chair of some club they had joined. I'll never forget the woman who blasted across the restaurant "you know I would give a fat dog a bone before I would give her one if she was starving to death" (speaking of the club president). What a swell, kind and wonderful woman, I thought to myself. Can you imagine getting "stuck" with someone like that by perhaps moving to Mexico without knowing she was here waiting for you, and that's of course assuming you could not live without the support of "like cultured" companions. Getting stuck with a group like that would be enough to make someone want to jump off a bridge.

That's why my advice to potential expats is always either move to Mexico to become just another Mexican living here or otherwise if you are into needing like-background friend circles, you may be in for a large surprise. That's because if you are going to depend on fellow Gringos to get you through a stay here, you are on shaky ground. In some circles, particularly the larger ones, once the group goes batty on you or the clique tosses you out of their inner circle for any reason, you'll be on your own anyway. (The problem can also arise if you happen to be at a restaurant, they don't see you and you overhear various conversations.) So be careful out there.

And finally it won't be any further consolation but I'm tempted to go on and say that my mom back in the US lived on some beautiful property over the years in North Texas and twenty years or so one of Rick Perry's cement plants started burning tires for fuel upwind of her and she was in the emergency room every few months getting tended to. They finally cleaned that up (not sure if they will go back to burning tires with the current dismantling of the EPA) and if that was not enough to destroy the beauty of her lifetime home, a couple of years ago a full size power plant set up shop 1/2 mile from her house. Luckily she can't hear too well but I often wonder while visiting her if the whir of those generators all day and night are better or worse than the Mexican roosters and barking dogs.

Sometimes I dream of "moving back home" as well. It's not hard to think back to those "planned communities" where I came from back home, with miraculously perfectly aligned homes with equally cut and manicured lawns, all dressed in painted tones varying from dark-beige to light-tan and with all the pitches of the roofs for blocks and blocks all sporting the exact same color shingles and slopes cut to the exact same angles and pitch. The neighbors back there seemed to all thrive admirably within their homeowner's associations (are be back on Alcatraz yet?) while never saying much about the growing maintenance fees. Of course this leaves you with the only way to express yourself as constantly shinning the new car in your driveway, one you buy every year, and while it's the same one you park at the very back of the grocery lot so no one will scratch it, you always happen to leave it parked right out in front of the driveway just to make sure all the neighbors do see it. Of course you'll never know if they've seen the new car or not, because you've never spoken to any of them. Here the dogs are all well behaved, groomed and reign from a fine pedigreed blood lot. They're all kept on leash and as you walk them along the fine city trails. you use when necessary one of the frequently encountered cute little green dispensers with the lidded containers holding poop while scooping and wrapping it carefully in the free dispensed bags along the route. All of Rover's accidents are provisioned for as you walk along these nice paved city trails with free and open park side walks, leaving you with the sole distraction being the occasional compelled stop for passing admirable statements, affectionately directed toward the many fellow dog walkers. In fact admiring someone's dog is actually the only social interaction you will have likely participated in, outside of perhaps work, for the past several months. At least it is easy to determine the places to stop as the owners have a specific way of "striking a pose" as you approach. Now while under your breath you may say "stupid looking mutt", out loud you exclaim, "oh is he is so cute, is he a maltisashitshoe or calabadorian fitzlebom" (you have no idea what either of these mean but you heard this question of a fellow dog walker on the trail last week and you know this new dog walker is needing some reinforcement and considering their stance, you know it's expected, and while you can't deal with conflict, you simply toss them a bone by ripping off a memorized cliched quote. Once back home you'll head to Whole-Foods for your bi-weekly grocery shop and then crack open the box and microwave enough for the whole family before catching Game of Thrones and leaving your spouse who wants to stay up a bit longer while downloading recipes or porn.

Now since this story has no logical ending, all I can ask is for someone to please wake me up - I'm dreaming of dogs and suburbia! Sometimes it seems there are just too many of them, or of those things over there, no matter where you are.