space
I don’t have a smart phone. I kind of take pride in the fact that I readily can live without one. And, I certainly look down upon those who can’t sit down to a meal with family and friends without that trusty annoyance at their side. But, then, there is my computer.
I can’t live without it. At least, not by choice.
I lived without a computer in the days when there were no computers. When I was in the Peace Corps in Liberia, the fastest communication was four weeks. It took two weeks for a letter to get home. It took another two weeks to get a reply if people wrote back immediately. Nobody ever wrote back that quickly except when I had malaria. I only told my family about the first bout with malaria. There were five.
Anyway, technology has come a long way since those days, and now I love my computer and I appreciate fast communication every time I get to use it. For some people, a vacation is time away from phones and computers. I am not one of those people. I want my computer. I need my computer. It is not a vacation without it at my side. I keep my journal on the computer. I now write my blog and organize photos while traveling. I really need that little piece of technology by my side.
These days I travel with a Surface Pro 3 laptop computer. I like it because it is slim, tiny and easy to travel with. But, it does have this nasty little habit of needing power. And, on this trip, somewhere between Ohio and Playa del Carmen, I lost the power cord. It might be in my office at home. I could be at some airport TSA checkpoint. I have no idea where it is. I do know that power didn’t last long on my computer without that cord.
I had to find a replacement.
You’d think that would be easy on Fifth Avenue, the main tourist strip in Playa. There were no computer shops. The next option was 30th Avenue. That’s the main shopping street for the local people in Playa del Carmen. It’s where you’ll find Walmart among all the other shops. And, there were certainly a lot of computer related shops. And, everyone I spoke to politely listened to my bad Spanish. Even though I don’t know how to say “computer power cord” in Spanish, I knew how to point. Everyone understood me. But, they looked at my Surface Pro 3 like it was something from Mars.
It appeared that nobody had seen one before. There was certainly no replacement cord readily available. Finally, a man in one shop directed me to 40th Avenue where I found people who were not shocked with my problem. They didn’t have the cord either, but they could order one. It would take "three days".
I decided to check my options, walked all the way down 30th Avenue visiting every computer store, and eventually returned to the shop on 40th. They were the only people who seemed to know what they were doing. They got me my cord, in close to three days, and life returned to normal in Mexico.
In a perfect world, I never would have computer problems in English or Spanish. But, at least in Playa del Carmen, I now knew where to go if and when I had computer mishaps.
And, there was another one.
I was organized before this trip. I completely backed up my home computer on an external hard drive. It has everything on it. Files, writing, photos, website work. Basically, all of my digital life is in that little box. So, naturally, it stopped working on the trip. I was organized enough to have one backup. I wasn’t organized enough to have two backups. Now, I know, I have to figure out how to use that elusive cloud, which I’ve never tried before. The stress of losing my digital life is ridiculous.
Anyway, I went back to 40th Avenue, so thankful that I knew where to go immediately.
Everyone there speaks a little English, but they are so pleased that I try to get by with my horrible Spanish skills. The problem was easily communicated. I basically said, “My life is in this box and it doesn’t work.”
There were no promises. One of the techs had to open things up and see what was possible. The tech is named Samuel but I never called him that. In Mexico, a very common name is Jesús and I was in need of a miracle. Samuel, er . . . Jesús, worked in the back room. There was another guy, Ruben, who worked out front. I didn’t want him left out of this divine experience. I called him “Espiritu Santo” (Holy Spirit). An alternative name was Diablo (the Devil) but I decided to stick with wholesome, heavenly goodness. And, with two members of the Trinity working in my corner, I fully hoped and prayed for divine intervention. It was only a little matter of resurrection and it wasn't like that hadn’t been done before.
Jesús gave me his word. Seriously, if you can't trust in Jesús, who are you going to believe in Mexico? It took a whole lot longer than three days, but my disk drive was fully resurrected and I claim it as a Mexican miracle.
I can’t live without it. At least, not by choice.
I lived without a computer in the days when there were no computers. When I was in the Peace Corps in Liberia, the fastest communication was four weeks. It took two weeks for a letter to get home. It took another two weeks to get a reply if people wrote back immediately. Nobody ever wrote back that quickly except when I had malaria. I only told my family about the first bout with malaria. There were five.
Anyway, technology has come a long way since those days, and now I love my computer and I appreciate fast communication every time I get to use it. For some people, a vacation is time away from phones and computers. I am not one of those people. I want my computer. I need my computer. It is not a vacation without it at my side. I keep my journal on the computer. I now write my blog and organize photos while traveling. I really need that little piece of technology by my side.
These days I travel with a Surface Pro 3 laptop computer. I like it because it is slim, tiny and easy to travel with. But, it does have this nasty little habit of needing power. And, on this trip, somewhere between Ohio and Playa del Carmen, I lost the power cord. It might be in my office at home. I could be at some airport TSA checkpoint. I have no idea where it is. I do know that power didn’t last long on my computer without that cord.
I had to find a replacement.
You’d think that would be easy on Fifth Avenue, the main tourist strip in Playa. There were no computer shops. The next option was 30th Avenue. That’s the main shopping street for the local people in Playa del Carmen. It’s where you’ll find Walmart among all the other shops. And, there were certainly a lot of computer related shops. And, everyone I spoke to politely listened to my bad Spanish. Even though I don’t know how to say “computer power cord” in Spanish, I knew how to point. Everyone understood me. But, they looked at my Surface Pro 3 like it was something from Mars.
It appeared that nobody had seen one before. There was certainly no replacement cord readily available. Finally, a man in one shop directed me to 40th Avenue where I found people who were not shocked with my problem. They didn’t have the cord either, but they could order one. It would take "three days".
I decided to check my options, walked all the way down 30th Avenue visiting every computer store, and eventually returned to the shop on 40th. They were the only people who seemed to know what they were doing. They got me my cord, in close to three days, and life returned to normal in Mexico.
In a perfect world, I never would have computer problems in English or Spanish. But, at least in Playa del Carmen, I now knew where to go if and when I had computer mishaps.
And, there was another one.
I was organized before this trip. I completely backed up my home computer on an external hard drive. It has everything on it. Files, writing, photos, website work. Basically, all of my digital life is in that little box. So, naturally, it stopped working on the trip. I was organized enough to have one backup. I wasn’t organized enough to have two backups. Now, I know, I have to figure out how to use that elusive cloud, which I’ve never tried before. The stress of losing my digital life is ridiculous.
Anyway, I went back to 40th Avenue, so thankful that I knew where to go immediately.
Everyone there speaks a little English, but they are so pleased that I try to get by with my horrible Spanish skills. The problem was easily communicated. I basically said, “My life is in this box and it doesn’t work.”
There were no promises. One of the techs had to open things up and see what was possible. The tech is named Samuel but I never called him that. In Mexico, a very common name is Jesús and I was in need of a miracle. Samuel, er . . . Jesús, worked in the back room. There was another guy, Ruben, who worked out front. I didn’t want him left out of this divine experience. I called him “Espiritu Santo” (Holy Spirit). An alternative name was Diablo (the Devil) but I decided to stick with wholesome, heavenly goodness. And, with two members of the Trinity working in my corner, I fully hoped and prayed for divine intervention. It was only a little matter of resurrection and it wasn't like that hadn’t been done before.
Jesús gave me his word. Seriously, if you can't trust in Jesús, who are you going to believe in Mexico? It took a whole lot longer than three days, but my disk drive was fully resurrected and I claim it as a Mexican miracle.