(The square in front of the entrance to the Delacroix museum.)
"Ah," my wife sighed, "I am so far behind in reading newspapers. This is last Sunday's"
She said that on Thursday.
"Why do you bother?" I replied. "You are just as well watching the noon time news cast you like. They are experts on old news. That's all they broadcast."
That little exchange is a ritual my wife and I follow. We go to bed, she looks mournfully at the stack of unread material piled by her bedside, she complains about being so far behind in reading the stuff, I berate her about it, she picks something from the pile, and after reading a few lines, she falls fast asleep. The next day the pile will grow and we will perform that ritual again.
Life is made up or little rituals, habits, and personal schedules. That's what keeps us sane in this age of uncertainty, chaos, and change.
Our day follows a well-worn schedule:
-We get up, fix tea and watch the news;
-After the news, my wife goes to her study and I go to my studio; we read email, work on translations, or, if we have time, I write my blogs and books, and she finds ways of getting into trouble (she orders some incongruous article from an online store (a ham slicer more appropriate for a butcher shop than a home, or jars of mayonnaise and mustard the size of a barrel come to mind));
-At noon I stop whatever I am doing and come into the house to find something to munch on and pour myself a cup of wine, my wife hears me moving about and stops her mischief long enough to prepare lunch;
-After lunch, I take a nap and she goes to work on the ton of translations she has gotten by then;
-After my nap, I go back to work on my translations, or book, or blog.
-At 5 PM we stop for tea.
-At 7 PM its time for an aperitif
-At 8 PM its the news (snooze) and dinner.
-At 8:30 PM its a movie or TV show
-By 10:30-11:00 PM its time for bed.
This schedule, though, is not rigid or unbreakable—far from it. We break it to go to a movie, or for a walk by the sea after dinner if the night is nice and the wather is tolerable. We have dinner parties or get invited to dinner. During the holiday periods and birthdays there are family gatherings or friends come for an aperitif. Sunday mornings, we often go to the market and every two weeks or so we go to Spain to buy groceries and booze, have some tapas, and fill up the gas tank (gas is 15-20% cheaper there).
But the thing about having a routine is that you know what's going to happen. If your head is muddled, as mine sometimes is, and my wife's often is, there is no need to think about what's next: all you have to do is look at the clock and you can figure it out. Also, when you come back from a trip or after a night out, slipping into your routine is like putting on an old coat or your favorite pajamas: you relax immediately with the feeling that you are home.
We even try to keep our routine when we are away from home. A few weeks ago we were in Paris and even though many things, from the pots and pans to the stove (an electronic wonder) were strange to us, we tried our best to keep to our schedule.
My wife: It is time for the one o'clock news.
Me: Good God, we are in Paris! We've already lost half a day mucking around, let's have lunch somewhere in town.
My wife: OK, but first the news.
We did break out of our schedule once in a while: we had lunch is a nice restaurant on the Avenue de la Grand Armée, and at one of those fancy places in the food court of La Defense when we went shopping there.
I tried to get away to the Louvre and other museums, or to wander around the city as much as I could, given that we get translation jobs to do even when we are on the road. But, all things considered, we did keep to our regular schedule pretty much as we do at home.
When we were in Mexico, we had quite a time doing so. In Dolores, Hidalgo, we stayed in a separate apartment, part of the home of a very nice family. They were very accommodating with us and tried to make our two month stay as comfortable as possible.
(Street scene in Dolores Hidalgo)
But, Murphy's Law was obeyed and things sometimes got out of hand: it rained more than it usually does in Dolores and the room were we kept our computers was flooded a couple of times. There was no WiFi in the house so a cable had to be extended from our landlord's home all the way to our apartment. As an added bonus attraction, the man who provided the Internet service would promptly turn off his computer at 10 PM, leaving us dead in the water when things were about to start in Europe, where we get most of our work from.
(A rainy day in Dolores)
Getting our water from a huge, plastic bottle was new to us and we often ran out because it was not part of our routine to buy bottled water. The same thing for gas: out stove and the water heater for out bath used bottled gas.
One thing that was certainly not part of our routine was going shopping late in the afternoon or night, and even on Sundays. In Dolores, like most places in Mexico, shops stay open until late and open even on Sundays, quite a change for us but we were delighted that we could go buy bread at eight o'clock or go to a large department store, such as Soriana, on a Sunday afternoon.
We foolishly left our tin of tea back home and trying to find Finest Earl Gray in Dolores was like looking for an honest man in the Chamber of Deputies, but all in all we had a wonderful time there. The market was a wonder to us with its bountiful fruits and avocados, the food was marvelous and cheap, and we had a beautiful little garden where we could eat outside as is the French custom in summer.
When we came back home, it was a relief to get back to our routine, but we did miss the excellent avocados from Michoacán—not to mention the most friendly and wonderful people of Dolores.
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