"Rustic Home in the Country" the ad claims from a bulletin board near the town center. Up to this point, we had very little luck finding a house with room to fit up to 5 people and a baby... with conditions clean enough to allow said baby to crawl and eat dirt... with furniture. If you have the desire, you can pack all your belongings into a moving truck and acquire an immaculate and large house in a beautiful neighborhood of San Cristobal de las Casas for about $230 US per month. Unfortunately, our possessions fill three backpacks and fun is not defined by living in a large, empty house.
Our adventure of house hunting continued as we walked through the town looking for signs claiming "Se Renta - amueblas." After a full days search and still no place to sleep for the night, we decide to try the rustic home in the country.
At first, the place looked nice. It was a little rustic with stone walls and a slight smell of mildew and urine, but the windows closed out the bugs, we had a stove in the kitchen and running water. The house even came with a very sad looking chicken family and a very skinny dog. I was most excited about the promise of staying somewhere for a month for a total of $35 US.
As all house rentals go, you start to notice the flaws of the establishment within the first several days of moving in. Our list continues to grow each day with problems I would never considered possible in the states. For example, our shower plugs into the power outlet in the bathroom to take the chill out of our cold water ("Agua Caliente," ad claims). Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn´t, but don´t touch the metal knobs with wet hands or you may get a bit of a shock. Another fun discovery is that whether it is raining or not outside, water drips from our cement ceiling onto the less than attractive couches. Friend from El Salvador claims this is a bad sign for the structure of the building and at anytime we can expect the ceiling to collapse of the backside of the house. Sweet, my bedroom is at the front. I think, and avoid reading on the couches. The windows close and keep the bugs out but the mildew and dampness in. When we open the doors to dry the place out, sad looking chicken family and dog pay us visits. We notice our visitors to the "WOO WOO" and pointing of our one year old doorman. The mattresses are not so clean and falling asleep at night risks your life to the appetite of bedbugs. The running water stops and we are left washing dishes to gathered rain water.
However, rather than complain, I see this as a wonderful opportunity to adapt to adverse situations and encourage my friends to do the same. The lights burn out. Great! We will dry out the air with our candle light. Bedbugs are eating me alive at night. I´ll pitch my tent on top of the mattress and sleep in my sleeping bag. There is no warm water in the shower. I´ll learn to shower in negative two minutes occuring every three or more days. The running water stops. Let´s build our skills in water conservation; or, seems like a great time to take an overnight excursion away from the house until it starts again. I notice the enthusiasm of my friends waning, but you really can´t beat the price, so I continue my encouragement. I have also been in Mexico for one month longer than my friends and have adopted the third world attitude that if something adverse happens, there really is not much you can do about it.
With that said, the water is back on, the sun has decided to shine and we are still only paying $100 US per month to gain perspective on the conditions whole Mexican families live with their whole lives. I couldn´t be happier as I look down at the city from my window view, sipping hot chocolate cooked over a gas stove and listening to my friends cook and talk in the next room. My last bout of optimism tells me that it is a good thing community is larger than a rustic country house.
A room with a view.
Rustic kitchen, sometimes with running water.
Sad looking chickens.
Sad looking dog.
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