Morning all:

Actually it’s a good evening from my room in the Crown Plaza in Monterrey, Mexico. Ten-thirty at night, and salsa music is blasting up into the atrium of the hotel and then comes careening back down from the glass roof. For the first time it dawned on me why my room has a second door in the room—to keep the music out. This place got invaded by ten tour-bus loads of teenagers who are here for a weekend music festival. Since yesterday hundreds of kids have been storming around the lobby and the hallways carrying guitars, horns, bongos, squeezeboxes – in tee shirts and in traditional costumes. I love it! I can’t get enough of it! My only problem is that I have to be on an airplane at seven in the morning. Almost eleven o’clock and I guess I should think about closing door number two.

Last night it was a typical regional dinner of Gabrito (lamb) at El Gran Pastore restaurant. A little too greasy, a little bit too skinny, a little bit too heavy, a little too much like “road kill”, and truth be told, I should have had a room service sandwich. So tonight it was lighter fare—sushi. A little “Atún hamachi, masago, queso y aguacate and a few Atún cola amarilla” pieces, OK, I don’t have a clue either.

Marcia informed me that she is in a panic because our second tenant is arriving nine days earlier than we thought. This is changing an orderly and even somewhat leisurely prep time into some chaos. So, while I am in Mexico, Marcia has lost 12 pounds. I suspect that it is not just that I have been eating goat. I think that on Red Bud I have become the goat.

Sunday is, probably with much fanfare, the bringing home of our new Citroën 2CV. One of our technicians has a ¾ ton pickup and along with a trailer we are off to Canton. In my mind’s eye the triumphant return onto Red Bud, with car in tow, is a vision akin to the running of the bulls in Pamplona, along with all of its pageantry and music. Anyway, that is the vision. In reality, and I too have been following the extended weather forecast, it will be in a driving rainstorm where, wet to my skin, I’ll ease the little thing into the garage with nary a soul in sight. That reminds me; what really is the difference between scattered thunderstorms and isolated thunderstorms? Can someone please tell me?

With that, and before you tune me out completely, you must read Adrianne’s blog. With all her comings and goings she is back in the capital city of Nuku’alofa and managed to give us an updated post. Talk about a psyched kid. Ok, enough rambling, the wakeup call is at 4:30. Goodnight.

Have a great week,

Cheers,

Dirk