The Guadalajara Reporter
Guadalajara's Largest English Newspaper
I don’t know if this is common in Guadalajara or just my neighborhood, but several times a week, while out walking, I hear cowbells ringing. When I first followed the sound, I discovered a garbage truck with workers trailing behind, collecting trash and wearing cowbells attached to their belt loops.
There used to be a game show in the United States called, “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader.” I don’t think it’s still on, but I don’t really know. I never watched it. Because, frankly, I didn’t want to know.
When I came to Guadalajara, my car and most of my possessions followed behind by a couple of months. I arrived with whatever essentials I could fit inside two suitcases, which ended up being too much underwear and not enough books.
We arrived in Guadalajara in mid-August with my three-year-old grandson who remembers every detail of the trick-or-treating he did once, nearly a year ago.
Many people, including a lot of local real estate hustlers, like to tell expat newcomers they can get along just fine without understanding or speaking Spanish. In my book, that is lousy advice in a practical sense, and an insult to the native folks who graciously accept our presence here at lakeside.
A sign hanging on the outside of the former Black Coffee site confirms what has been rumored for weeks. The building is being remodeled to become a lakeside branch of Starbucks.
¡Muy Pronto! Vivirás la experiencia Starbucks. (Coming Soon! You will live the Starbucks experience.)
I was about seven years old when I made my first trip to Mexico. It was a family trip to visit my grandparents in the little town of Montemorelos, Nuevo León, where they had settled after a couple of years living in Chapala. They left here because the altitude didn’t agree with grandad’s heart condition.