Reyna's Childhood Memories

Today is a laundry day and of course ironing as well as the part of work that I’ve brought home that still needs to be finished. 

As I’m changing laundry from washer to dryer I have bits of memory that take me so far away – Yelapa way.

Yelapa things:

Toilet – early toilets were a Nido can with a plastic bag in it – beside it was sand, ash and dirt.  A scoop of each for #2 was the habit.

There was another can if you were going to do #1 – it was thrown over the edge. (If you’re wondering of toilet paper, you picked your green leaves before you did your business – no Charmin here – if #1 you drip dry)  I have no idea what women with their periods did – Honestly – I’m thinking they were at the waterfall all 5 days – I would have not survived.

It was perfectly normal to see someone peeing on the side of the road – mostly men.  Women would be found only if a bush was moving along the side of the road.

Laundry – you’d take a bundle up river and set yourself up near rocks – one good flat one and a stick of soap – yes a stick, long like a stick of butter.

Wet clothes, rub with stick of soap and rub clothes against stone then rinse – twist to remove water and throw over a clean rock 

One could only do this in the AM so that in the afternoon one could swing by and pick up the dry clothes.

Or you could have the help take care of it all for you. ( I liked how Basi did our clothes)  These were great locations to find out what was going on in town.

Table and chairs – my father had taken a square piece of wood – put two hinges on one side of it and attached it to the two posts that held up the house – a stick that sat in the corner was used to hold it up when it was in use – the rest of the time it remained put away – flat down against the wall. Chairs were Nido cans, the large ones – sometimes with a pillow on them but mostly not.  

Fruit and Veggies – You’d only get what you’d eat today or tomorrow – everything was ripe and ready to eat.  Bananas were bought in raisimos which were how they grew.  You’d have to wrap a gunny sack around it at night so that fruit bats would not get to them.  I do not remember ever buying; coconuts, guayavas, guanavanos, mangos, coyules or many others that were in the local trees – you’d climb the tree and get them.  Cuastecomates would fall from trees and break open with the black insides – they smelled so nice.  My father had the people who lived near the tree make a drink with it that had chocolate and raicilla in it – very good stuff.

Milk – you could get it fresh from town but most just got Nido milk – powdered milk that was not bad if it’s what you grew up on – cow’s milk would be fresh and if boiled would create a thin layer on top that was good with frijoles.

Gas to cook on – Well, back in the day you’d order it from PV, the panga would bring it in and you’d have to have someone bring the large long tank to your house and hook it up.  Our first one was interesting because we had to rearrange the kitchen a bit to attach the tank.  We used to gather wood to cook until they started bringing the tanks into town.

Refrigerator – There were not any for a long time – we got the first one that was gas – I have no idea how my father found it but it arrived and we had one – small like a crate.  It was hooked to the gas tank that the stove was hooked to and it worked great.  Basi, our help, loved it. 

Drinking water - when we first arrived there was a water hole, up near the waterfall.  That one once got contaminated and made everyone sick – they moved it somewhere else.  You’d have to go with your bucket and gourd.  You’d carry it back to your house on your head. The first couple times my brother and I went we came home with 1/2 buckets each. We learned quickly how to do it properly.  My father would boil it and put some stuff in it – cant remember what, and we’d put it in a cantaro with a drinking cup on top of it.  The water tasted so fresh and cool.

Showers/baths – You took care of washing up at the river or the waterfall – the river that comes through town from the waterfall was good too – it used to be the in town clothes washing spot back in the day before they put the bridge in. (we’d used to have to walk over the rocks and when the river was high and it could not be crossed, we’d move goods from one end of town to the other through a rope attached to a house on each end of the river.  Baskets of goods would be transferred back and forth.

After we got tanks that would get filled with water through pipes that came from above the waterfall, we’d all have bathrooms built that could have real toilets, septic tanks were built and my father had a bucket that had a handle that you’d pull and it would rain on you – that was a fun shower.  Mostly there was a large tin container billed with water with a gourd in it and the maid, Basi, would wash us with cold water – it was not cold like Oregon cold, it was Yelapa cold. (not cold at all)

There were no baths.  OK, maybe Rita had a bath.  Everyone else had showers.

Fresh meat – well, once a month there was a man who owned cattle and he’d kill a cow and sell the meat – we’d all go watch the event, early in the AM. Chickens were easy, you’d just talk to anyone who sold eggs and ask when they’d have chicken to sell.  Pork was the same way – anyone that sold chicharron would have pork – we did not eat that so much. Our main meals were of fish and chicken.  Mostly beans, veggies, fish and bread. Back in the day, there were only three stores in town – one cantina in town and the boat club in town.  A couple of restaurants – the cantina and Steve and his wife’s – that is in town – on the beach were all the restaurants but most of the town if you were going to go eat, it would be in town and not at the beach.  If you ate at the beach it was after the tourist left because you’d eat with all the cooks and cooking staff – that was the best of all.

Clothes – well, it’s strange you think that someone would come to town with a very large bundle that they’d open up and you’d buy your clothes from them -  or you’d go to PV and the main mercado for stuff.  I liked the “Tambache man” he had everything  including bras and under wear.  

1 A/B  In this picture my father had taken us to PV for what he called a day to be civilized – whatever he meant, no one really could understand – these two combined are the before (when we arrived in PV) and after (the civilized look) as you can see, we don’t even look like the same kids – It’s so funny to think that he thought we were not civilized the way we were.

2 A/B  In this pic it was Pichon and Reyna at the campo santo and the other was taken as we played in our front yard – It was our playground.

3 A/B  In the last picture we’re at the beach and my father was taking the picture – my brother and I were always together – notice the bathing suite, it’s the one that Rita designed for me and named after me. Honestly, it’s not a new look but I loved that suit – I only had one other that I had gotten in PV I only wore it for about a year before I got this one – I’d started to develop and it was not acceptable for me not to wear a top so it had to match – whatever :)  Those were my father's ideas.  ..........Reyna S.

Background on Rick the Stick

My father came from a well to do family from Germany – history said that they made clothes for the Czar of Russia back in the Day.

Anyway, I digress – they became import-exporters and when my grandfather came here (Flushing, NY) to settle he expanded the business.  He returned to Germany for a wife and in 1916 my father was born. 

Marion, his mother died 3 days after giving birth to him.  Willy, his father got care for him and when he was old enough my father traveled with him all over the world – his primary language – German.  When he was of age for school, he’d be sent off to Military schools and schools in Germany, 

in vacations he’d travel with his father.  When the market crashed Willy lost much of his business and hung himself. My father joined the military with much protest of the family back in Germany – some disowned him as a family member for that but he had his own ideas.

He’d gone to school to be an architect but I guess he felt he would do the service for a bit – which turned out to be the rest of his life. While traveling in the military he had a nak for languages – he learned many including Chinese – who’d a thought ha?

Anyway, the German thing was a familial tie, I think.  I recently found his cousin’s son in Valparaiso Chile – he could not believe it was me – I guess there used to be much talk of my father and how he’d been disowned by the family.  Many have died back in Germany and the inheritance went to those in Chile – good for them – I hope they needed it.  Money is not everything, it’s only a small part of our experience here.

Anyway – that’s the story.

More.....from Reyna

1. First one is of my brother and I at Karen’s (Karina) house – we’d gone to visit and see how the new addition was going – sand had been piled up to continue the construction – while adults discussed things we were instructed to go look at the beautiful view of the bay.

2. OK, this is a strange photo because my mother had sent a large box which included that doll that my father named Peanuts – I don’t know why – we did not grow up with dolls and we did not know what to do with it – so we dragged it around to see what we’d do with it.  In the pic is my brother, Pichon, my father Rick the Stick and me, Reyna.

3. In this pic is my father, Rick the Stick, and, I think his name was, Bob Lewis.  I don’t remember.  I'm sure that my father was having a cup of coffee and his friend was having a beer because there are no pics of him drunk or drinking – must have been his vanity.

From a Child's Point of View

Please, dear Yelapa friends, go fetch yourself a beer or a shot of tequila and sit yourself down for a most endearing read. This was sent to me by Reyna Schlichter who is the daughter of Rick the Stick, William H. Schlichter. Her remembrances of Yelapa as a child touched my heart and will yours, too.

Here are some things that many don’t know and are not aware of.

My father, Rick the stick, retired from the Army in 1959 and truly dropped out. He was very interested in moving somewhere quiet. You see, after WWII and Korean War and years of military school, I guess he’d had enough. He spoke many languages and he could be very quiet. He met my mother in Puerto Vallarta in 1960, I was born in 62, my brother in 63 and my mother was only 19 when she got pregnant. My father was much older, about 55 or so.

My mother had the idea that she’d married an American and that she’d be on her way to the States in no time.  She also expected to have blue eyed, blond hair babies, clearly not what the plan was at all. When my mother realized that that she was not going to the US, she left us with my father, I was 3 and my brother was 2. When my father realized he’d be raising us alone, he moved to Yelapa. That would be 1965. I remember when we arrived, we’d have to gather wood at the beach for my father to cook each meal – it was an adventure. As we grew and more people arrived we had more friends.

My father did not allow us to play with the children in town much, I don’t know why. We were  only allowed to play with the children of his friends – The Glumas kids were my first friends. They had a restaurant right near Avenida Fuchi at the bottom of the hill on the left. A small creek ran by their restaurant and house.  The Elies kids were older and Daria was in school somewhere else so we never really saw her – Jeff was always fishing or making something. I spent a lot of time with Gloria – she’d let me look at her National Geographic's at her studio – she had a wall full of them. It was heaven and I saw many things that I never knew existed.

We went to the local school only when teachers would come to town and the rest of the time my father would hire the summer visitors to provide us with art, language and history lessons. It was a well rounded education. We learned in French, German and sometimes they tried us in English – we did not do so well in that language. We mostly spoke Spanish around town, French and German only with my father – my brother did not speak much – I was bashful to speak French around Daria and Jeff, they spoke it so much better and much faster.

My father would take us for outings up to one end of the point past Karen’s house – she was an artist that had the last house at one end of the bay – he’d also take us up the river for hikes.  They were magical walks because he’d teach us about the plants, the animals and during the different seasons he’d explain how things worked in nature.  We would get the same teachings about the ocean.  We’d stay up a night just long enough to see the phosphorus in the ocean and see the fish that glowed in the dark come through in particular seasons.  Once he hired someone to take us out in a canoe past the shit rock so we could see the whale migration up close. 

When whales were ill and they’d come into the bay he’d find a teaching opportunity to go down and touch them, see what animals were attached to the whales and why they were in our bay – he’d explain that they were tired of living and that something must have happened to them so they were here to rest or to die.  If one died, it was our responsibility to help them not be messy about their death – they’d be burned on the beach.  What a mess that turned out to be, but I guess it was less stinky than keeping them in the water.

The first time I saw a manta ray come into the bay it scared me – it looked like a black school of fish in very strict formation. I got to see one up close once, and they were large.  From where we lived, it was a great vantage point because one could see everything even the spotted ray that came through one day.  During a particular season there were schools of sardines that would come through the bay and that was fun, because you got to see them shimmer in the water or you could get into the water and feel them swimming past you and between your legs, that was a very interesting experience.  There was also jelly fish season, there were all kinds, round ones, blobs and some that were just clear others with black dots on them and tentacles. There were some that stung, some could kill you and others that were harmless – to this day I can not get them straight – best advise I ever got - “stay away from all of them”

There were particular people I remember the most – Peggy – the 20 dog woman.  I used to think she had everything at her house, but most of all when we’d go to her house for dinner, we’d always stay the night.  We’d sleep in the tapanco or in either the sewing room or the mask room. I loved the sewing room – She only wore huipiles – and native jewelry – I loved that about her.  I remember that one day she called my father over because one of her dogs had a big gash and the gash had worms in it – maggots.  My father took care of what ever it was that she was afraid of and the dog was fine.  He was not a vet but he knew a thing or two about curing things I guess.  My favorite memory of staying at Peggy’s house was when I’d stay in the sewing room and she’d come in and open the window for me – she’d say that the moon would cover me in calm rays and that the frogs in the river would put me to sleep. She was very kind.

Ruby near the lake was also someone I remember, she loved to laugh and have us over for dinner.  Her house was the best – I loved the garden she had and how she had huts for her guests.  She had a lemongrass plant that I loved to smell as a child.  She was also a great cook.  I remember when she was ill prior to dying.  She’d come home from the hospital many helped her to be comfortable in her last days.  Daria and I took turns taking care of her so that others who cared for her could rest.  It was the least we could do for someone who through the years gave us such joy.  

Then there was my father's favorite hang out buddy, Gloria.  Gloria was like the mother I never had, she was always teaching me something.  I remember sitting under a stump she used to chip away at a block of wood she was sculpting into something.  The chips would fall on me while she talked to me in 1/2 Spanish and French as I paged through the newest National Geographic she’d received.  I made sure I did not wrinkle the pages because she’d let me see it before she was done reading the articles.  She’d sit and read out loud to me in English but I did not understand a word.  She’d look at me and let out a laughter that brought out nothing but joy to your heart – she’d rub my head and pull me to her bosom, I just love her.

Then there was Rita, she had the large artifact store with her designs and native clothes.  It was the only tourist shop in town and her children were a bit too good for the rest of us. I did work there for a bit, to practice my language skills but my joy was looking and learning about the statues and artifacts she had, you  see, I’m an archeology and anthropology buff even to this day.  Rita made batik material that she transformed into beautiful bathing suits, she named one after me – the Reyna – it had a front skirt like on the bottoms and a twisted sort of top – it was cute.  I remember that I’d watch her when she’d color her hair, I always wondered why she’d do that to herself.  She had a couple cats that my brother would sell her fish for, we’d both fish right in front of her house.

The Shapiro’s were another family in town that I thought were the life of all and every party they had.  I never knew this until after I’d been here for many years but my father's mother was Jewish and he never knew her, she died giving birth to him.  They’d invite us to all the parties they had and we always had a ball – I learned to eat all kinds of different things at their house and the most memorable was the pillow they had that was a “dick”, when you unzipped the zipper on the shaft, it also had a vagina.  It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen but it was a pillow.  They had the first waterbed in town – wow! Was that fun!!!  Their house had a hanging bed that looked out to the river and bean bags that we’d never seen before.  It was fun there. I did play with Tali but she was very reserved and maybe older than I, not sure really why we did not click.  I remember her brothers and sisters, they had a large family and knew how to have fun.

As anyone in Yelapa knows, people seem to travel through the place.  I met two young guys who’d come for a bit and then I never saw them again – Tony and Giles.  I don’t remember their last names but they lived up the river a ways – their house had a waterfall in the back that practically ran through the house. The grass in their front area was tall, we’d play Marco Polo there and it was lots of fun.  There was a large rock in the middle and if you climbed to the top of it you could see the grass move where people were walking through – it was heaven there.

We once had an American teacher who came with her son to town.  She tried very hard to teach us English, I don’t think we did very well at all.  Her son, Todd, was always bothered by some thing or another –another words (sic) -  a cry baby.

In the evenings my father would play his classical music, listen to the radio news form the BBC and at times read to us in French or in German, only once in English, he had to translate a lot for us.  Some seasons brought bugs that would eat his books, some seasons brought bats that would eat the banana raisimos that we had to cover in pillow cases, others brought ejejenes and well, there was always the beauty of the bay and the Macaws that flew around, the Iguanas that had their mating season and of course there was always the boa constrictor that lived above in the tree near our house – it would drop out of nowhere to get an iguana or some rodent on the ground. During army ant season my brother and I would fight bugs, yes – you hear right – we’d get red ants and fight them with black ones.  There was always the random question if a cuichi could get away if a large crab grabbed it real quick... It was a child's mind at work in the simple times.

Who could forget the tourist that would wait all day for the boat that my father would tell them would come and pick them up if they waited – at the bottom of the hill in front of Rita’s place – you see they did not want to climb the hill and they wanted another way to get over it.  He’d laugh and say how these stupid Americans will believe anything.  We’d know when the Princes Cruise was in PV because the tourist would come with their white box lunches and litter the beach – my father always said one day they’d be turning with their trash in tow if he was in charge.  He never really wanted to be in charge of anything, I think he’d had enough of being in charge after so many years in the Army  - who would not understand.

Ah, the magical days of being at the beach in the morning for a little snorkeling, then a swim around the hotel side of the beach and then lay on the beach for a bit to finish the day around noon to go home, have lunch, a nap for 2 hours then go for a walk to visit friends or do a little grocery shopping.

Some may remember my father as the alcoholic that binged once a year – yes, it’s true – he was a drunk – he’d drink for one to two months out of the year and then be all well and functioning for the rest of the time – people in town would care for us – once we were staying with Don Rogelio’s family for a bit.  Another time, a woman in town took us and of course when our caregiver Basi was in town she’d do it.  People were incredibly kind and if I could remember everyone who took care of us, I’d say a large “Thank You” because I never really knew them well and too much time has gone by to remember their faces but they know who they are.

Faye – that’s all I have for now – there’s much more but that’s for my book. Thanks, Reyna

Finally....Kid Photos!

1st pic is of Letty Thomson, my brother Bill (AKA Pichon) and Me, Reyna.  Letty, Todd and Pam lived at what was known as the Galeria, Gloria’s old place for displaying her art. It was later rented to people. My brother, father and I lived right next door between the Galeria and Rita Tillett’s shop.   We’d gone over to play as we did when kids were living there.

2nd pic is of my birthday (left to right – Tali Shapiro, me (Reyna), Monica and my brother Bill (AKA Pichon). This was the only birthday party I remember as a child – my father was very strict and there was not much fun to be had sometimes. This one was memorable because I got to have soda, we only had one per year and the same went for chocolate of any kind.

3rd pic was one of a party at the Shapiro home which was the place for many parties.

Top row left to right – Shapiro children and at end hired help (sorry, it’s been too long, do not remember names)

Bottom row left to right – Jeff, Todd (teachers son), Bill (AKA Pichon), Daria, Tali, me (Reyna)  My father had Kaftans made for the three of us and we all wore them that day – it was cool.             courtesy of Reyna Schlichter – Rick the Stick’s daughter

More Ancient Beach Gossip

The Phil story is as follows...I met him on the beach in 1983 on my first trip with 2 girlfriends and my sister Rita of Baracho Steve and Rita. Phil was handsome and had a boom box with batteries. Hung out with him for few days and we became a beach romance. He was living up behind the beach somewhere that I have looked for many times and never found. He was a psychologist in toronto. When it was time for me to leave neither of us was ready and I went into town, called my mom and she agreed to keep my son a week longer. I went back and he was waiting on the beach...and we had a great time. 

When I went back to the states I was in Buffalo in my masters program. Not too far from Toronto. We carried on for over a year. The last time I saw him was in toronto. He and I were both involved with others and we were to see each other in Yelapa just as friends. He knew about Ed and we wrote several times...he was expecting us and was going to find us a house. In the meantime he was living on the lagoon near Ruby's and they had become friends. He had been making and delivering pizzas and therefore his name Pizza Phil. 

So we got there and no Phil to meet us. He didn't come to the beach so we went to the house and there was a letter from me on the table with a wine bottle on it and the date circled on the calendar. I went to see Ruby and she told me the story. 3 days earlier he was acting strangely and had been for a few weeks.  he killed his cat and told her he was going to pv and would be back. No one ever saw him again. His woman Inca Ada had Interpol come and all they found out was that he had gone to the holiday inn in PV with a man and Phil signed the check. They left together and that was it. I felt him in Yelapa for a few years but then not again. I have always believed that he was killed and put into the sea...who knows?? And why? Another Yelapa mystery.   contributed by Penney DeRaps