Donkey Love

Well, the final countdown to the wedding is on, and with just 24 hours to go, I have managed to secure a donkey! The bride is not entirely in favour, but I think she is getting more sold on the idea. It's a miniature donkey, so this makes it almost alright. Sophie Hogan, our photographer, seems pleased.

I am told the animal likes people and is not spooked by Mariachis, which is good because we have some.

Now all we have to do is dodge the rain that's in the forecast. Who doesn't love wet donkey smell...

Timeless

I'm sitting on my upper deck on the Saturday evening of the last long weekend I will spend in this place. The firepit below still smoulders from a morning of burning 10 years of expired documents. The grass is freshly cut. Leonard Cohen sings in the background. The sun still has a month of north-westerly migration before it hits the height of the solstice directly in front of me. The robins and bluejays are having their evening bug feast and the cardinals are flitting around me. The river flows and glistens, as it always has, as it always will. It matters not whether I am here as witness. I have no effect on these things. All I can do is memorize every detail. I will miss this timeless place.

Ron Burrows, Trailer Whisperer

My good friend Ron came over today and we went trailer shopping; a couple of old guys on the hunt for guy stuff. I think he was as excited as I was. Ron has many years experience handling trailers at speed; I have none. This makes him my choice as trailer whisperer and backer-upper instructor.

Before we head out, I once again web-check the weight and towing specs for my truck, and show him my volume calculations for the stuff I can't part with. This gives us a good point of reference, but it soon appears the stuff will not comfortably fit into the nearly 1.8 million cubic inches of a 20-foot trailer. I know that sounds like a lot, but it's not really.

We visit three dealers in the course of the day, and settle on one unit that is 8.5 feet wide by 24 feet long and has a road clearance of 105 inches. I have to tell you: standing in front of this bad boy, you feel humbled. It is big. It dwarfs my truck, and I thought my truck was big.

Still, all the specs say go. The extra 360,000 cubic inches seem suddenly huge, and the price is right. It has a tandem axle, a ramp door and pretty lights. I am about to learn a great deal about loaded trailers and transporting them cross-country over topés and Mexican potholes.

Now the problem: where to park it. Another of my good friends, George Loney, rightfully reminded me that my house is on a hill. I have thought about this, and it's times like these when I wish the Township would have seriously considered my proposal to lower South River Road while it was recently being rebuilt.

Sadly, movers will be walking uphill. But only for half of the time.

We Visit the Mexican Consulate

Melanie and I are now full-flown, legalized residents of Mexico. Melanie went for a permanent visa; I applied for temporary (just in case I don't like it.) "Temporal" residents are allowed to own a foreign-plated vehicle for up to 4 years. "Permanente's" are not. For now, I need my truck. Tomorrow I go trailer-shopping! Residence status is not the same as citizenship.

We arrived at the consulate bright and early for our 9:00 a.m. appointment, after overnighting at the apartment on Mother's Day. The waiting area quickly filled behind us but we were soon called to present our documents to the able, bilingual and multi-tasking receptionist. I had downloaded the visa applications from the website the day before, and had followed the instructions precisely. I even entered the text via computer rather than block printing by hand, because I wanted everything to be perfect.

The first thing she pointed out to me was that the two-page stapled document needed to be a single page, printed double-sided. (I almost laughed out loud.) She pleasantly handed me two clipboards with two new forms, which we dutifully copied out on our knees, from the information on the original. As I have said before, following the Mexican rules is not the problem: it's knowing what the rules are.

After that, things went smoothly, though leisurely. Others came and went. We presented our passport photos and then were photographed again. I was fingerprinted for the second time in my life; (the first was by my Mexican lawyer.) Then we were called, separately, into a nice office with a friendly official to be interviewed. This was mainly to confirm that we were in possession of adequate funds so as not to be a burden to the Mexican social system, a requirement to which we apparently gave adequate attestation, because we were accepted. I think.

They kept our passports, so at this moment we can't go anywhere. But we bought an Expresspost envelope so they could be mailed back to us, with our shiny new certifications. Once we get to Mexico, we will have 30 days to appear before some other official to declare our presence, fill another form, pay another small fee, and then we will be, well... living in another country.

Life is a highway.

The Wedding Planner

So I got a little worried when Melanie started watching "Say Yes to the Dress". But then I got hooked. I was watching it even when Melanie was in Toronto! I know, it's embarrassing. But I was trying to understand what it was that was driving these girls. I'm not sure I gained a lot of insight. In the end, Melanie managed to buy the dress she will be wed in in Ajijic, with friend Lynda offering advice. I haven't seen it yet. She told me it's bad luck to peek.

I bought a few shirts there too, one of which I will wear. We'll toss our sombreros into the river, the thought of which offers a brief opportunity to reflect on this past week. I never believed I would again be preoccupied with thoughts of how a wedding day would go, least of all my own. As I have often said to friends who announced their decision to wed a second time: "What was it about your first marriage you didn't understand?" Now that comment applies to me. I have no answer.

After 12 years, both of us should know. Fortunately, this time has also informed our discussion about wedding day decisions, which were all made in about 12 minutes and in virtual complete agreement. I am not quite settled with the menu yet, but Reina and Janette at Van Galis are offering great Mexican-inspired suggestions. The Mariachi band is booked.

So yes, I am the Wedding Planner. The good news is it is not taking all my time. The other good news is, it's kind of fun. We never wanted to host a wedding at the B&B in spite of many, many requests. On May 30, I am making an exception.

The Piñata Mobile

The Piñata-mobile is home and parked back in the garage. Melanie and I left Canada in her VW Passat, and came back in a Mexican car. It's still the same car, but now it looks like a Mexican car. Which is to say, it has been christened.

It has a scratch and what looks like a bullet hole in front of the right wheel well, which was likely caused by a shopping cart with something sharp sticking out of it -- we really have no idea. The rear  fender has a scratch and a chip (my bad), and the front windshield has a stone chip. All that in two weeks. This is why everyone tells us, don't bring a new car to Mexico.

Early days on the ground have been hectic after making the drive from Nashville to Elora in one day. The border crossing back into Canada was hilarious. At about 8:30 on a Friday night, there is no car traffic on the Ambassador Bridge and we pull right up and hand over our passports. He scans them.

Canada Border Services Agent: "Where do you live?"
Me: "Elora."
CBSA: "How long have you been gone?"
Me: "We left on April 8."
(Pause.)
CBSA: "Total value?"
Me: "About $200 Canadian."
(Pause. He returns passports.)
CBSA: Bye-bye.

I love this country.