AND LIKE QUETZALCOATL JIMBO RED FINISHES AND LEAVES, WITH A PROMISE TO RETURN ONE DAY, PART III

With land and labor contract’s in place, it was now time to get on with building a plant. I returned from Mexico City, after a contract was signed, and prepared to return to my office in Canada. “Not so fast”, you might cry out. “This cannot be the end of your time in Mexico.” And you would be correct. This time ol’ JimboRed, was asked to stay and help with the site prep. Of course, by then, everyone had forgot, that I didn’t choose this crap piece of swampland, to set up on. Yep, by this time each of my client’s reps, that visited their new plant in Mexico, suggested, wisely, “they would have found a much nicer place to establish a business on.” I would just silently curse under my breath and bite down on my tongue.

Just a little side note here. Now that we had completed a lot of the front end work. By that I mean, all of the difficult parts. Things like finding a location, securing labour, getting licenses and permits. Along with, receiving permissions to load out product at our shoreline, and countless other “business in Mexico” roadblocks to overcome. We were ready to “rock and roll”. Failure, with any of these front end issues, meant, someone would lose their job. That is why they contracted me, just so they had someone to fire. And that is why, I was left, by myself, at the front end, to complete these critical tasks. None of my client’s people, were exposing their careers, to failure.

Now, things were starting to move along. And with that a flood, of my client’s executive, now found it necessary, to visit Mexico. They came in droves. Obstensively to help out, offer advice and criticize the land that “I” had personally selected for them. Once again, I would just bite down, and silently, mouth my opinion, of their ancestry, as well as their intelligence. All the while, I smiled in their faces, and bowed up and down. While I repeated “very sorry, very sorry, please forgive me!” So, the point of this sidetrack is, that I never had such a flood of visitors, to the miserable site in Nigeria, or the bug infested swamps of Malaysia. Nope, no one wanted to visit there! But, just set up in Thailand, Singapore or Mexico, and everyone, in authority, had an urgent need to “come see”.

One of the very first things I noticed, when we finally started work on the site, was this overpowering smell that permeated the air. There was constantly the unmistakeable smell of urine, present. Most days it was just nasty, while on real hot days, it would bring tears to your eyes. I wondered, how anyone could possibly produce enough urine to be able to make a smell such as this. I could not image, that intense, of an odor, not even if everyone in Mexico, peed outdoors. It was everywhere. I remember when we first went out to look at the plant, the Teflon Don kept looking at me sideways, while wrinkling his nose. While I thought, that he had, had an accident in his “manper”, but I was too polite to inquire.

The “smell mystery” was finally solved, once I realized what the product UREA consisted of. We were working in a UREA production facility, where basically, they synthetically reproduced the ammonia, carbon dioxide and hydrogen, found in urine, to make a fertilizer or explosive. Along with producing, synthetically, some of the building blocks of urine, they managed to replicate the smell to an unmistakeable degree. I often wondered why, if everything was synthetic, why not make it smell like, synthetic roses? In any event, after I left New Zealand (a few years earlier), I had, had to scrub the smell of a pulp and paper plant from my body. I smelled like burned cabbage, for years. Now, to be replaced by a UREA smell, that, I then scrubbed, for the next few years.

These, front end memories of my early days in Mexico, now appear insignificant. However, they must be described, for my memory to be complete. And they kinda set the stage for upcoming events there. Trust me, each and every place I visited had it’s own particular sights, tastes and smells. This one was Urea, real Mexican food, all wrapped up in an old colonial city. I absolutely loved it! Maybe, I wasn’t half Peruvian after all. I might well have been half Mexican. (Just kidding, I’m still Peruvian).

Now the fun of doing business in Mexico started. Although not, nearly, as corrupt as many of the places, I had worked. Mexico still had some practices that would be considered, unacceptable, in other countries. The idea that everything you wanted to buy, sell or trade, was a negotiation, made business very difficult. I remember one time, very early on when we were trying to rent some basic civil construction equipment. Things such as compressors, generators, loaders, graders, cranes and trucks were required. So we set up a meet with one of the local rental agents.

The agent arrived, along with his entourage of sycophants. They entered like saviours about to rescue us, and our business. By that time, the company had sent, a Columbian lad (Jungle Flu) to supervise the construction of the plant. I basically stayed to make the “business end” operable. So while Jungle Flu, started his endless latino style negotiation, I sat at a desk in the corner, working on some permits (or something). The Rental Company took little note of me. I was kind of half listening to the inevitable latino “social circle”. Every once in a while, Jungle Flu would glance at me and I would give him a slight nod, of small shake of my head.

Then, at some point, the agents decided they needed some time alone, to discuss matters. Ol’ Jungle Flu and his couple of construction superintendents filed outside for a smoke. The other company, ignored me working away in the corner. They openly discussed just how far they could go on pricing, and even a few “subtle” knuckles were exchanged. I think this group really thought they were cute. They had plans to rape and pillage as far as they could. I believe, in their minds, we were the naive gringo, about to get our asses served to us, in the form of a Mexican business deal.

Done with their sidebar, and now full of confidence, they call Jungle Flu back in and start telling him just “where the bear shat in the buckwheat”. I let it go for a few minutes and then, with a signal to Jungle Flu, I stood up. He introduced me, and I greeted them all in my broken Spanglish. You could see a couple of them start to squirm. I could see their boss’ question, forming. It was like, “did anyone check if the idiot in the corner could speak Spanish?”

So in front of everyone, I explained that we would have “no need” of this guy’s rental equipment. I told him that I would be bringing it all in from Mexico City or Veracruz. I also explained, that we could not possibly work with a company that does not have a price list for their product, or one, that thought we were idiots. Stunned, Gobsmacked, and paralyzed could be used to describe, the others in the room. Even though, my Spanish language skills were minimal, they were good enough, that every word I spoke was understood. I then asked Jungle Flu to close the meeting and thank everyone for attending. With that, I went outside for a smoke.

After a few minutes, I am called back in, and Jungle Flu, asks if we could give these guys a “second” chance. After the appropriate whispered discussion, we agreed to hear them out. And, wouldn’t you know it, like magic their price book appears in front of us. We made a big show of telling them, that because their company was local. That, we wanted to support the local community and businesses and spend as much of our Yankee Dollars as possible in the local area. I then added, that because we were going to require a “significant” amount of equipment, for a reasonably long term, then all that was left to do was negotiate the “discount” from their price book.

It now seems like an insignificant detail, however, it was a risk. I really did not have any solid options for equipment from Mexico City. The thought of doing business with a company from the big city, made my skin crawl a bit. In reality, I knew that we would need local equipment. My only backup plan, if my bluff failed, was to have our Agent Sale’ find the equipment for us. however, it all worked out, and we maintained a relationship with this rental group for years to come. It was never real friendly. I don’t think they ever forgave me, but I do think they, at least, respected me a bit.

In the space of the next few short weeks, we managed to turn that miserable swamp, into a flat, huge, open lay-down, area. We had also managed, to put in foundations for the soon to arrive coating plant. When my client decided to “setup” a new plant, they went at it with a vengeance. New, used, refurbished and junk pieces of plant arrived from all over Canada, the US and Mexico. Most by boat, into the port at Coatzacoalcos, some directly to the shoreline, by barge, at our land, and some was transported directly by truck. It was chaos!

Of course, I had personally delayed their progress, by finding a nasty swamp that they had to fix, by taking far too long, too arrive at a labour agreement. And, then of course, squandering more time trying to negotiate a land deal. For those reasons, they were now, seriously behind schedule. Sometimes I had to bite my tongue so hard, that blood ran out of my lips. Anyway they were paying, and if the job was to take abuse and blame, then I was ok with it. Geezus! It never stopped me from muttering under my breath about it, though.

By the point in time where we were ready to start some kind of operations, my 2 week trip had become about 4 months. Deysi was not happy. Had I not promised, I would never leave her behind? Couldn’t, my client, just pay me to help them from my office in Calgary? Why did I always get the fun and she got the kids? Well I had no answers or logic that was going to sway her. So the best I could do was ask her and Ange, too pack up over Easter break and come join me in Caotzacoaclos. Ron, of course declined the pleasure of a visit to her dad. Instead she said, “Oh, have you been gone? Oh yeah? Well, I’ll see you when you get back. By the way, where are you?” With that, Deysi and Ange joined me in Mexico.

For her second trip to Coatzacoalcos, Deysi was much more prepared. This time her and Ange got an overnight room at a hotel near the airport in Mexico City. They then made connections the following morning, and arrived at the airport in Minatitlan, at a very civilized time, near midday. I was delighted that they were there. Ange was ready for the pool and beach. While Deysi spent her first hours, checking to see if I was there working, or just (as she suspected) partying. It was great. By this time I was close to Sale’s family, so the girls had someone to show them the sights.

As I have said often throughout my stories, Ange only needed a pool to make her happy, wherever we went. She was part fish. She would spend hours in the water. Sometimes, just by herself or with her mom. Often she made friends, at the pool, so she was just happy to be on holiday. The hotel we stayed at was close to the river, fairly new, had a big pool and was partly owned by Sale’s family. We were treated real well.

The restaurant was great, and the food first class. My one difficulty was the difference in Mexican Spanish and Peruvian Spanish. For example, just try to get a Peruvian “palta”, (avocado)for lunch. No one had ever heard of it. I had seen them being served. Finally after pointing and cursing a bit, I discovered they were called Aguacate’. Indeed, who had ever heard of a palta? Jugo (fruit juice) was called Licuado. Or vainitas (green beans), were frijoles to the Mexican. A fresa, or strawberry to a Peruvian; meant, pejoratively, to a Mexican, someone with new, or unearned, money. It was not a compliment. Dulce de Leche, or fudge in Peru, was cajeta in Mexico.

The list went on. I think, when I babbled away at the Mexican people, they figured I was just weird and making up names for things I wanted. They just smiled and patiently questioned me, like a baby, while trying to find out what I really wanted. Deysi flowed right into the Mexican idioms. Within two days, she sounded just like them. Ange just smiled and everyone brought her anything they thought she might want. Life was wonderful. Of course from where we were, the phone access, back home, was solid. So, Ron might have felt, that her mom had never left. She got at least a morning, noon and night call to check on her well being.

I cannot leave my time in Mexico, without explaining, once again, how our Agent/labor supplier, had been so integral in helping us setup in Coatzacoalcos. Without him or someone like him, it would have been virtually impossible to establish a business, as a foreign owner, there. Over time I (we) developed a strong tie to Sale’, his dad The Don, his wife and partner Rosy and his extended family. They made us feel at home there.

I remember the Don, telling me that when he wanted to study Civil Engineering, back in the 1940’s there were no text books on that subject, in the Spanish language. So what he had to do, was teach himself, English, so he could buy the books from the USA. He then had to translate them into Spanish so he could understand them, and then pass his exams, in the USA. Now that’s what I call commitment! This family was very successful locally, very famous and very influential. Sale’ always knew someone he could call on to smooth the way for us. They are our friends to this day.

At this point, my work in Coatzacoalcos was nearing completion. But, before I leave, there were a couple of other memorable events to share. One of my greatest food experiences, up to that time, happened here. On one fine evening, Sale’ invited us out to try a new restaurant. We were downtown near the Malecon, or beach front promenade, and introduced, into a restaurant, full of lights, music and new decor.

It was here that we were introduced to our first taste of Brazilian barbecue. My God, another whole range of culinary delights was opened to me. We were seated, and then were presented an endless flow of big slabs of meat impaled on huge skewers. They brought them by the table and sliced off pieces for us to try. I daresay, that every type, of edible animal, was paraded past, stuck thru with these huge swords. I must have, personally, cleaned out a good part of someone’s farm animals that evening. This memory of a feast of meat Brazilian style will stick with me forever. I am sure, that I gained at least 5 pounds from that meal. All I could do was groan. From that time on, it seemed like every new place we visited, had a Brazilian style restaurant.

My last vivid memory of my time in Mexico, was of the arrival of Jungle Flu from Columbia. He joined us, and brought with him, the worst case of flu, that I had seen to this point. He was sick! This flu made it so he could not breathe, swallow, sleep, or function. It came with a deep, deep rasping cough, that when started, kept going until he had to sit down. We named it the “Columbian Jungle Flu”, and him, we named “Jungle Flu”, for short. One night, shortly after his arrival, he, apparently, woke in the night, and couldn’t breathe. he tried to get up, but fainted and hit his face on the dresser across the room. this knocked him senseless. When he recovered, he made it to the phone and called for help.

I was notified of his condition, early in the morning. By this time, he was in the hospital. When I went to see him, it looked as if he had been beaten, with a cricket bat. His face was black and blue, he had abrasions all over, and a couple of his fingers were broken. Had he been anyone else, I would have said that it looked like, “he was talking, when he should have been listening”. However, he was a very quiet type. He never drank, and spent most of his time in his room. Of course, he passed this flu on, to all of us. I had never been so sick in my life. I thought I was about to die. I can truthfully say, that Covid, had nothing, on this flu from Columbia. However we all survived, but we gave “Jungle Flu” a “wide berth” from then on. No Latino hugs and squeezes for him!

With that last memory, my work was completed and like Quetzalcoatl, I too boarded a ‘winged serpent” and departed Mexico, for other adventures. This was a very sad time. I was leaving new found friends, and a place that I was getting very comfortable with. Oh well, my client just happened to have other places where they thought, there might be a good chance, to fire me.