In most places I’ve lived, spring is a time of joyous awakening and arrival, whereas here in Mazatlan it is a time of not-so-joyous departure. Almost everybody makes sure to get the heck out of town before the hot summer begins and suddenly the weather in Alaska starts to sound pretty tempting. So as soon as the snowdrifts melt down enough to play golf, the snowbirds go flocking sensibly back north. In some ways, this has its advantages. For example, The News doesn’t sell out as fast, and you can still get a copy well into the afternoon. There are plenty of empty seats on the Sabalo Centro bus, so you and your loved one can sit together. Best of all, I don’t worry so much about adverse reactions to any of my articles, because nobody is around to read them. The problem is, Mazatlan can spoil you to the point where you just can’t adapt back to a world where you have to chop wood to heat the house, you need a machine to dry your clothes,

and there are no open-air, beachfront hangouts with buckets of cheap beer and shrimp. After living in a reasonable facsimile of paradise for eight months (and a relatively affordable paradise at that), it’s hard to get motivated to leap back into the old rat race. So I guess I’ll just save the plane fare and stick around for yet another summer. It might be a good time to finally actually read some of those authors whose names I like to mention, like Shakespeare, Melville, Dickens and Hemingway (don’t bet on it). Maybe get really ambitious and do a Sunday crossword puzzle or two. And for sure, most of all, spend some quality time with the kids arguing about what to watch on TV. The secret to a tranquilo summer here in Maz is to drink plenty of fluids, sleep during the heat of the day, and don’t do anything more strenuous than taking out the trash. Fortunately, it is a regimen that I can follow.