Bugger All!
Yesterday we were on top of the world. Today, not so much.
Yesterday we saw the sweet little casa that checked every box on our wish list. It was (is?) available, and our good-humored young rental agent says he went to bat for us with the owner. Now, about 30 hours later, the owner hasn’t got back to us about our offer for a long-term rental. So, we put our backup plan into effect and we wait.
Our fallback is not so bad at all. Good location and adequate in every other way. Except, it is only available until October. We’ll take it, if we can, on a monthly basis and hope Smith—Casa Mas Deliciosa’s owner—gets back to us with his approval in good time. We got in touch with backup's rental agent and she’ll show it to us tomorrow morning.
Our backup plan. We're meeting the agent tomorrow morning, and plan to ask for a day to commit because of the possibility of Casa Mas Deliciosa. |
We’d been expecting word about delivery—sometime today—of those two big boxes that we had shipped from Seattle. We had arranged for them to be stored here at our hotel until we could move. While I was in the shower, the front desk got a call for me from Pay-Through-The-Nose Shipping. It was bad news.
Yessica—PTTN’s custom agent in Guadalajara—informed me, after I had scrambled still wet into some clothes, that our boxes had arrived at GDL (as I had figured out by tracking online), but that the list of contents for each box did not have the requisite US Embassy stamp of approval. Say what? Needless to say, this was the first we had heard of this how-in-hell-do-we-get-that? requirement.
Yessica also told me what PTTN could do, which was, free of charge, return our boxes to our address—where we no longer live!—in the States. Or any other address stateside we would choose. I didn’t choose and told her she would have to keep the boxes for at least a week until I could arrange something.
Our new Nokia cellphone, muy borato at $450MX, about $30US. |
Yessica said she would call us on Monday, which presented a problem since we don’t have a local phone that might be available then. So, we girded our loins and dropped into the Telcel (Carlos Slim’s business) office just down the block and bought a muy borato cellphone to give us a local number.
Meanwhile, I posted a query on both of the local ex-pat’s webboards (previously cited) about what to do when you're on the horns of this dilemma, and am currently getting spotty advice. Perhaps a customs broker?
In all the meantimes, we’ve rested, mediated, prayed, and affirmed our love. What more can you do?
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