Lost Souls in Chacala

Yesterday I had my second visit by a scary young man, who carried a donation can with him, asking for support for a treatment facility. He also carried a fake handmade ID that explains nothing. He came by last week, and unfortunately, he caught me while I was sitting on the patio, waiting for Chicho and Berta to come by to pick up me. It was the day we were headed for the plant nurseries. So Mike/Miguel told me his story, or version #1 of his story, which involves prison, drug addiction, deportation, etc etc etc.

I started getting uncomfortable with his being at this house, because he asked if I was alone, or married. I said, yes, "I am married", which I have never done before in Mexico. I said I am waiting to go to La Penita in a few minutes. Then Chicho showed up and Mike/Miguel assumed he was my husband. Chicho is very handsome about about 37 years old. More likely to be my son. Or grandson. So Mike/Miguel disappeared in a blink, and I was relieved.

Then yesterday morning, here he is again. I stayed in the house and talked to him thru the screened window. I said "we" were really busy, and he left. Ugh. Makes me uncomfortable. First time in Mexico I felt kind of exposed or something.

Then this morning E., a middle-aged Mexicana orginally from DF, now from Las Varas, came around, selling tamales. I went on out the patio and visited with her. She speaks some English. She has kind of followed me around Chacala for the last year or so, as I move from place to place. Telling me her tales of woe.

Finally told her I was working on some writing and had to finish. And off she went with her buckets of tamales.

My back still hurts from the falling hammock, but not as much as I expected. The weather is lovely. Clear and breezy, but too hot and humid to be outside, except in the shade.