When you buy property in the sub-tropical part of Mexico, you're going to have some jungle to deal with. But no problem, I brought my chain saw with me and all my work clothes. I've cleared land before. I know what I'm doing. Of course, this is a little different. This is jungle. Nevertheless, I was prepared to take it on. I even bought a machete for chopping down the smaller stuff.

Then the suggestion came up that I should hire some Mexicans to do the clearing for me. They're experts at jungle clearing, I was told. They know how to look out for snakes, and wasp nests, and other nasty things, and they only charge 150 pesos ($15) an hour. It was further suggested that you'd have to be nuts to try and do it yourself. So, only being half nuts, (as well as on a tight budget), I decided to go ahead and hire some Mexicans, but also work alongside them with my chainsaw.

The next morning at 8:00 am, four Mexicans show up armed with freshly sharpened machetes, a big jug of water and bag of tortillas, and wearing only short sleeved cotton shirts, light calf length pants, no gloves, and only sandles on their bare feet. I, on the other hand, was armed with a big, noisy chainsaw, and was dressed in a heavy long sleeved work shirt, jeans, thick leather gloves, and big heavy work boots. After all, this was the jungle - full of biting, stinging insects, big nasty thorns and spines all over the place, huge ugly spiders, and of course, snakes. And I hate snakes more than anything in the world. I was assured snakes were rare in the area, but they were occasionally there, and at least one species was venomous. So I wasn't taking any chances.

The Mexicans start hacking away with their machetes, and I fire up the chainsaw, and we attack the jungle. Before long I noticed the Mexicans were making good headway, despite their limited protective clothing and weaponry. I was struggling, and beginning to wonder if a chainsaw was the best tool for this particular job. And as the sun rose higher in the sky, I quickly became extremely hot inside all those clothes I was wearing. After half an hour I was wheezing and puffing, and sweating profusely. After an hour I was completely soaked with my own sweat. My clothes were so wet they stuck to my skin and made it hard to move. I could only work for a couple of minutes before I had to stop, guzzle some water, and towel off the sweat pouring into my eyes.

By 9:30 I was finished. I was so exhausted I thought I might faint. I really wanted to show these Mexicans that I could work right alongside them, but in the end I had to admit defeat. They didn't look even the slightest bit fatigued, and when I told them we were "finito" for the day, they looked at me with bewilderment. I tried to explain, "muy, muy color!" (very very hot!) They tried to tell me that I could go, and they'd be quite happy to continue working by themselves. I thought sure, as soon as I'm out of sight, they'll all sit down for a siesta on my money. So I sent them all home, saying we'll try to work a little longer tomorrow, and they left shaking their heads, and muttering about crazy old gringos.

A little while later I saw Aseidro (a-SEE-droe), Bill's Mexican handyman, and he asked me where my workers were. When I told him I had sent them home because it was too hot, he looked amazed, and he too, walked away shaking his head. I was beginning to feel I had done something wrong, but I wasn't about to pay four guys $15 an hour to work unsupervised. It could end up costing me a fortune. So what if we only work a few hours at a time! What was the big deal?

Then Bill comes by and asks how the boys were doing, and when I said I sent them home, he said, "Why the hell did you do that?" Slightly offended at his tone, I said, "Because I was almost fainting from the heat, and for $15 an hour I wasn't about to let them work on their own!"

Bill started laughing. "It's not $15 an hour," he said, "it's $15 a DAY! You don't hire Mexicans by the hour, you hire them by the day, and they work a full 8 hours. And since you sent them home early, you still have to pay them for a full day. Sorry, my friend, but it looks like the joke's on you today. You just made four Mexicans very happy."

Somehow, when I had been told 150 pesos para dia (per day), my preconditioned old thought patterns refused to accept such a paltry wage, and unconsciously translated it into 150 pesos para hora (per hour). I never felt like such a goof in my life. I had Bill explain to Aseidro my mistake, and ask him to explain it to the workers.

The next morning at 8:00 am when they arrived, I walked up to them, and I must have had a pretty sheepish look on my face, because all I said was, "Amigos, ahhh... ayar(yesterday)..." and they all immediately exploded in laughter. I called myself "stupido" and they laughed even louder. And I laughed with them. It was, after all, pretty hilarious. And how could I be upset, when I was going to be getting so much hard work done, for such a small amount of money.

I put my chain saw away, and turned them loose, and in three days they had cleared over two acres of jungle. Here's a couple of before and after photos of the building site.

Before...


After...

The day they finished I brought them all a cooler full of drinks and snacks, and we had a little fiesta. And as with all Gomez Incidents, it was only fitting to give them an obscenely large tip.

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