Similar to the STFO initiative from Volume 5, we approached our landscaping and facade redesign with one overall goal in mind: to eliminate every bit of sand from our lot. Sand had penetrated too deeply into our lives, not to mention the sheets of our bed; we laughed when we would check into a hotel and dump the sand out of our shoes at the end of the day. Sand blew in under the cracks in the doors, it pelted the house, damaging the paint, and blew in your eyes on a windy day. Along with taking care of our heat and humidity issues, removing sand from our lives was another important step in feeling like we had a bit of a normal life.

When it came to the facade, we had already replaced the front door and windows during previous remodeling projects, which was an improvement. We still had the problem of the house seeming very low, squat, and without a ton of visual interest. Adding the closet to the bedroom, the breakfast nook, and all the air conditioning units and satellite dishes on the roof made the front of the house a bit of a hodgepodge, and we were looking for a way to make the house read a little taller, as well as unify the front.

We built a new overhang to wrap around the front of the house, and covered it with terra cotta Spanish tile. Then, we added a decorative “crown,” which serves to make the house seem less like a squat little bunker from the outside.

We built two natural-stone planters that run the length of the property, brought in crushed gravel for the driveway and utility area on the side of the main house, and built a stone patio and fountain outside the guest house. A few inches of soil were spread out on every remaining bit of sand, and a sod lawn was planted. The lawn is watered by an in-ground irrigation system, which is fed from our well. The overall result is stunning…we think we must have one of the only lawns in Chelem, and certainly one of the only lots that has managed to remove all traces of sand. I keep checking Google Earth, to see if it has updated…I look forward to seeing one green triangle in the middle of all this tan sand.

We could keep working on this house forever, and of course, we have a wish list of new features (A pool! Another bedroom! A new deck!) scratching at the back of our minds. You have to pick a stopping point, though, and for us, for now, we are calling this house “done.”

It marks the end of a long journey, that started in an attic apartment in Connecticut in 2005. Like many of our readers, it began by drinking beer late at night and wistfully flipping through the local real estate websites, wondering if we couldn’t build a better life starting with a wreck of a Mexican beach house. As it turns out, you can. Now, after living in a construction site for years, we can finally relax and enjoy it.

There was just one problem. When hiring workers in Mexico, remember that the definition of “contractor” can mean “University-trained licensed architect.” However, it can also mean, “under-employed drunk fisherman who will occasionally skip a day of pulpo fishing in order to lay your floor tile.” If you happen to assemble a crack team of the latter, as we did, and attempt to lead a project in a language you don’t speak, you end up with our first kitchen renovation: badly-laid, cheap tile, cracking seams, a rotting roof, and not a single level or plumb line to be found in the place.

Though the kitchen was certainly larger, it really wasn’t much more usable than it had been when we moved in…and it was definitely not much more attractive. Fortunately, in the time we had been making do in this kitchen, we had also discovered what has become our secret weapon here: The husband-and-wife architect team of Carrillo y Peon, who we hired again to start over on our kitchen.

At last, we finished our kitchen remodel, a down-to-the-cinderblock gutting. The space was entirely re-imagined, and in the end, we had a kitchen that, though smaller in square footage, still manages to FEEL much larger, thanks to its increased light, storage, and usability. Let’s look at some pictures, shall we?

Just for fun…our kitchen, as it appeared the day we bought the house.

Almost everything you see is new. The countertops are covered in huge tile, with arched nooks underneath. They are also a normal height; our last builders assumed that because we aren’t a very Mayan 5′2″, that we must be giants that needed huge, tall countertops. The backsplash is natural stone from Dzitya. The sink and peninsula it sits in is new, and supports a column with “floating” cement shelf to divide the new kitchen from the breakfast nook, without putting in a full wall or breaking the sightline to the ocean from the front door. The ceiling was also completely resurfaced, with recessed lighting added.

The floating shelf that wraps through the kitchen features recessed halogen lighting. The wine area sits underneath another floating shelf for the microwave. The rusted “stainless” steel sink was replaced with beach-friendly plastic, which is perfectly ridgid when installed. We even put a coat of automotive-grade paint on the fridge, just to spruce everything up.

The new pantry provides plenty of storage, as well as hides the biggest improvement to our life so far: a pump that feeds bottled water into our refrigerator’s ice maker and water dispenser. The counter is polished, sealed cement.

The new breakfast nook sports big new windows, and built-in benches around a small dining table. It has really brightened up the Southern end of the kitchen.

Our new front door, which we had moved five inches away from the corner of the room. Y’know, because we’re annoying like that.

The overall before and after, South view.

The fact is, shopping for furniture here is TOUGH. We have been to all the regular stores, Azcue, Marbol, Liverpool, Pier One, Sears, etc., and keep running into the same problem over and over again: if you don’t want that big, chunky rustico furniture, which is solidly built but, honestly, not much on the eyes, you just don’t have a lot of options. You can have something custom made, and pay a fortune, you can contract the folks at Gringo Furniture and have your stuff shipped, or you can pay through the nose for something that is just barely “meh.” The reasons for this total dearth of quality, inexpensive furniture are twofold:

1. It’s a matter of taste, I guess.
Up until very, very recently, Mexicans just didn’t seem too interested in the idea of “antiques.” The thinking seems to have been that old things are for poor people. If you have money, why would you have old things in your house? To show off your wealth, why wouldn’t you buy, say, a white melamine princess dresser, or a giant, overstuffed banana-colored leather sofa? Thankfully, this attitude is changing. There seems to be a slight shift away from the latest “made in China” monstrosities, and a new appreciation for fine, old craftsmanship seems to be emerging.

2. Americans have become utterly, totally spoiled by the widespread availability of quality, inexpensive design.
Americans have become very accustomed to being able to easily acquire very affordable, very well-made things. Ikea introduced spare Scandinavian design to the world, and made it accessible to even the brokest of college students. Target offers a Phillippe Starck-designed spatula. Yes, you can get a spatula designed by one of the world’s foremost industrial designers, you can get it anywhere in the nation, and you can get it for about four bucks. In contrast, Mexico does not yet have this kind of widespread, affordable, quality design. Here, if something is cheap, it’s poorly made. If it’s expensive, it’s still probably not comfortable. And if it’s inexpensive AND comfortable, well, no one will be able to deliver it for six months.

These two problems have made it difficult to furnish our house, and we have ended up with a lot of half-finished spaces. By the time we did our living room, however, we had learned a lot. Orders were placed months in advance. A bit of creativity was used. And here’s what we put in our living room:

The two wicker sofas were purchased from Azcue. They took one month to be delivered from a warehouse somewhere else in Mexico, and the delivery to our house, while free, was a week late. We were fine with that. Oh, we also had to go into town, find the delivery truck, and coax it back to our house, since they couldn’t find us. But they did deliver it, and that in itself is a small victory. The metallic-salmon throw pillows included with the set were a bit of a surprise; we never saw them when we were ordering the furniture. Though they are clearly insane, and never something I would buy in a million years on purpose, now that they’re here, I kind of love them. The coffee table is actually two wicker ottomans, with lids that open. These were found by accident at Commercial Mexicana, who only had the broken floor model to sell. We spent the afternoon visiting four other Commercial Mexicanas in Merida, each of whom had either none, or only one to sell…and in the end, we STILL ended up going back for the broken one.

After taking a tour of Office Max, Office Depot, Manuel Delgado, some other place, and some other even worse place, I was getting truly disappointed in my options for a desk for work. My only options seemed to be these giant, sprawling pressboard affairs, all covered in dark laminate, most of which was already peeling off in the showroom. Or, I could get these giant “EXECUTIVE” desks, which would really be only suitable if the company I was an “EXECUTIVE” of sold either stolen car parts or prostitutes. The friends we were shopping with were equally frustrated. They ended up laying a hollow-core door on some Home Depot-purchased sawhorses, which came out very SoHo loft-y and cool.

I bought an old, weathered beach door from the Progreso “Articulos Usados” store. It is perfectly grey on one side, but still has some cool, super-stripped red paint showing on the other side. I then had a massive piece od 10mm thick clear class cut for the top, and then laid the whole thing on two giant, 150 pound pieces of solid, hand-carved limestone from Dzitya, the stone cutting village just outside of Merida. When I try and decide who will be affected by my money more, Office Depot, or a family of stonecutters in Dzitya, it’s a decision I can feel good about.  I am pretty pleased with the results. I have a 500 pound desk that is stylish, and at around 4000MXP, cost about the same as the junk the office supply stores were selling.

We’re not done with the living room yet, but we are getting close, and we couldn’t be happier with how it’s shaping up. The lesson is, don’t settle. Search, sniff around, be creative, don’t get frustrated, and you will end up with a room you are really proud of.

Do YOU have a favorite source for furniture or home decor here in Yucatan? Let us know about it in the comments!

The entire thing was bumming us out, and making us forget how truly amazing it is to live just a few steps from the tide. Last year, during a trip to visit friends in Malibu, California, and comparing their beachfront construction techniques, it dawned on me that we could approach our new lifestyle in a different way. We could Seal the F*cker Off.

The STFO Initiative, as it came to be known, is pretty radical in a place where the normal mode for construction is to encourage airflow and ocean breeze. As we have mentioned in earlier posts in this series, beachfront houses like ours are traditionally used for just a month or two a year, when a family home gets filled with people, all hanging hammocks in the shade and in the breeze. It’s a beautiful way to live, but it’s hell on your computer equipment.

The other downside, of course, will be electricity, one of the most expensive utilities here in Mexico. With the house sealed off, we will need to cool and dehumidify it, which ain’t gonna be cheap. We’ve read lots of estimates, and we haven’t gotten a bill yet, but we expect implementation of the STFO Initiative to add between $200 and $75,000 to our monthly bill. We have also decided we don’t care. Chalk it up to the cost of doing business, here. We will have a dry house. We will have things made of wood. We will not watch the microwave rust. We are reclaiming our humanity!

Jesus, this post is all over the place. Let’s just get to the pictures, and we can talk more later. Here are the before and afters, to get us going:

As you can see, what was, in our minds, a small project, ended up being a full replacement of…kind of everything. We had replaced the old windows with sliding glass doors almost two years ago, but everything else, from the floor tile to the ceiling fans, is new.

Here are a few more detail photos, or, as we so tastefully call them, “concrete-porn.”

Here is the massive entertainment center we had constructed. It stands about eight feet tall, which is nice, because the scale of the rest of the room is so big. It has four screen-fronted drawers for storage, and niches for the surround sound speakers. This idea was described to our architect as simply, "A big entertainment unit, with maybe an arched top." We are really happy with the amount of detail and work that went into the finished product.

In an effort to add some architectural detail to our "beach box," we added these beams to the 14-foot high ceilings. They serve to visually draw the ceiling down a little bit, reduce echo, and hey: I'd never seen them in a beach house here before. These are another nice touch that the humidity would have prevented us from being able to do, were it not for the STFO Initiative. Also visible is a new pendant lamp over what will become our temporary dining area, and the top corner of the entertainment unit. It looks a little blotchy, because the cement isn't dry yet.

Another beam glamor-shot. Also visible: the new 36,000 BTU minisplit a/c unit, rear surround sound speakers with buried wiring, spotlights to highlight the beams (can you tell we're proud of them?) and add a little indirect light, and my concrete "picture rail."

Another cool detail was on the floor, with an idea borrowed from Merida's colonial homes: a "rug" made of tile. The edges of the room are tiled straight, and then there is a rectangular natural-stone border, with the same tile laid in a diamond pattern in the middle. The idea was good in our minds; it's even better in real life.

This post was typed in our new, 68-degree, dry-as-a-bone living room, and we are thrilled with the results. With this phase of renovation, our reconstruction of our beach house is almost complete. Inside, we have to revisit the kitchen, undo some weirdness there, and then it is on to the outside. Stay tuned…it just gets better and better!

This project was completed by the consistently amazing Victor & Ingrid of the architecture firm of Carrillo and Peon. We love inviting them into our home to tear it apart, and are consistently stunned by their creativity and professionalism.

Converting our house from this more traditional definition into a modern, full time home with all the amenities, has been uniquely challenging. Like many homes, ours included not just a main house, but a rather large outbuilding used for storage, or bodega. At some point in the past, an attempt had been made to turn this humble structure into a functional part of the house, or at the very least, a caretaker’s cottage. A basic bathroom was added, as well as a large alcove that was either intended as a closet or a kitchenette. It’s tough to say what the original intent was, but the outcome was clear: the space was still not a functional part of the house, and was not fit for daily use. During our first year in the house, we continued using it for storage of boxes of wires, and leftover construction materials. At one point, we attempted to spruce it up with a coat of interior paint and some work on the electrical system, which had zero effect on the bodega’s livability. It was time, finally, to call in the wonderful professionals at Carrilo and Peon Architects, to turn this humble outbuilding into a full-fledged guest house.

Here are the before and after pictures of the transformation, with notes:

The original bathroom in the bodega. Note the extensive use of brown tile, brown sinks, and brown toilets. There was also a tiny, boarded-up window, and cheap aluminum divider for the tiny shower stall. There was no storage, and the overall layout of the bathroom wasn’t right.

New bathroom, same angle. The toilet was moved to the opposite corner, and a new dividing wall was built for the shower. Directly opposite the toilet is new floor-to-ceiling shelving, adding much needed storage to the room. The new shower is polished concrete, and a water pressurization and softening system was added. All new tile is very neutral, with the possible exception of the new shower dividing wall, which was tiled in a cool pebble-texture tile. It adds a very cool accent.

The old, funky shower. You can think of it as a shower, but in reality, it was more like a dumping ground for toxic chemicals and a terrarium for assorted insect life.

New shower stall, same angle. Note polished concrete, and built-in alcoves featuring a touch of the same tile used on the new dividing wall. Not shown is a giant, 70,000 gallon-per-second chrome showerhead that fills this shower stall with high-pressure, piping hot water.

The original north wall. I apologize for the bad lighting in this shot, but it actually does a good job of showing the overall atmosphere of the bodega. It was dark, dirty, and full of assorted odds and ends. The broken louvered windows were either nailed shut, or not screened, so they were never open.

The new north wall. The wall was torn down, and a big glass sliding door was added, which will eventually give the guest house an ocean view. There are new tile floors throughout, all-new electrical including recessed lighting, air conditioning, and overhead fans. A kitchenette was added to the corner of the room, with polished concrete shelving and a ton of outlets added to the new blue textured wall. This will allow guests some autonomy, as they don’t have to come into the main house to microwave a bag of popcorn or have a cup of coffee.

The original Southwest wall. More boarded-up windows, and the closet/kitchenette that the prior owners started but never completed.

New Southwest corner. Again, please forgive the poor lighting. French doors and a step were added along the West wall, and the opening to the closet was made more narrow to allow for another wall of shelving. This space had to do double-duty, providing both a walk-in closet for the guest house on one wall, as well as general household storage on the other. Not shown are the wooden sliding doors, which were added to the West wall of shelves. New minisplit a/c unit is visible in the upper-right, which chills the room quickly.

The old view of the door leading into the old bathroom, where there actually was no door at all. Note the scary exposed wiring, brown toilet, and our futile attempt at painting one of the walls.

New view of the door leading into the new bathroom. Just visible is the sink where the toilet used to be, which sits atop a new concrete vanity. The faucets for the sink are wall-mounted between two built-in alcoves.

That about covers the before and after pictures. Of course, we also have a few more glamour shots of some of the new features of the guest house that we really like:

If you were sitting on the toilet in the new bathroom, this is what you would be looking at. There is finally an actual, honest-to-god door, as well as floor-to-ceiling shelving to add some much-needed additional storage to the room.

Detail of bed setup. The bed was put near the bathroom and closet, naturally. The light above the bed is controlled with a switch mounted just high enough on the wall that you can reach it without getting out of bed.

The new sink in the new bathroom.

Concrete-porn. I swear, I am never going to be able to figure out any other kind of construction.

Overall exterior shot of new guesthouse at night. We LOVE the new exterior lights that Victor chose; they completely transform the mood of the building.

And that wraps it up! We couldn’t be happier with the results, and the project was both on-time and on-budget. Okay, so not EXACTLY on budget, but that’s only due to our extravagant taste in bathroom tiles. The pressure system, which extends to the main house as well, has improved our lives considerably. Our only problem, now, is trying to figure out what to call it: “Bodega” just doesn’t seem appropriate, anymore.

When last we spoke, all that had really happened was that all of our bedroom walls had been sledgehammered to the ground, which, though it made for some impressive pictures, was also shaking me up a little bit. The project ended up being much larger and more labor-intensive than we had imagined.

How things can change in a few short weeks, though, as our bedroom project has finally been completed, and a life more civil on the beach has been achieved. We’ve got cold air, a closet (the first one in the house!), lighting up the whazoo, and most importantly, we’re no longer sleeping with the dogs on our broken futon in the middle of our living room.  Let’s go to the pics, shall we?

Southeast corner, before. Note the external wiring, heavy wooden shutters which didn’t open, and just out of frame, a scary old wall sconce that electrocuted anyone who was interested.

Southeast corner, after. The new closet doors, which took the carpenters ten hours to install, are made up of four sliding panels. It is, by far, the best carpentry we have seen yet in Mexico. Inside, the closet has three shelves, and a bar for hanging clothes.  Outside, three ceiling-mounted spotlights illuminate the inside of the closet. The glass doors are aluminum, and open french-door style onto a newly-poured concrete pad, which has cut down on the amount of sand that gets tracked into the house. Eventually, we will also have a pool out here, which will allow us to go from “asleep” to “swimming” in moments. And of course, we’ve got the monstrous 18,000BTU LG minisplit, which cools the room from 95 to 65 in seconds. The expense of operating this unit would probably make it a good idea for us to buy stock in CFE, as well.

Northwest corner, before. Not a lot to explain here…just another view on the scary wiring, old wall sconces, and strange indentation that was left in the wall when we bricked in that window, after turning that from an exterior to an interior wall. The new bathroom is visible in the right of the frame.

Northwest corner, after. All walls were refinished and painted, and the old exterior door was refinished. All new wiring and sconces were installed, and the wall on the left had a nice rough texture applied to balance the crispness of the rest of the room. Take a look at the floor tile, as well, which we’ll talk more about in a few minutes.

Northeast corner, before. Another small wooden window, which also didn’t open, prevented this room from having an ocean view.

Northeast corner, after. New floor-to-ceiling sliding window not only lets in a ton of light, but allows view of the ocean from the bedroom.

That’s about it for the before-and-afters. There are a couple of other cool details, though, that I wanted to draw your attention to, so here are a few more random shots:

Closet detail: On the top shelf, we had the last-minute idea to put an electrical outlet inside the closet. Since this is now the coolest room in the house, it is probably destined to become the most-used, as well. We wanted to put an outlet in so that if we wanted to put a little flat panel TV in our bedroom, we could put it on the top closet shelf, with no exposed wires, which we could also close away when not in use.

Tile porn: Let me tell you something. If you had told me a few months ago that I was going to be putting fake wood tile in my bedroom, I not only would have laughed, I probably would have thrown you out of my house. All of the faux-wood tile we have seen is pretty awful, and usually amounts to square ceramic tile that has been silkscreened with a parquet floor pattern. And of course, it is usually pretty bad. This was the first somewhat convincing faux wood tile we had seen, and, because we sorely miss the wood floors of New England, we pulled out the checkbook to pay the additional 500 pesos per square meter above what we had been allotted in the quote for the project. We couldn’t be more pleased with the results, and here’s why it works so well: First, the tile is long and rectangular rather than square. That’s right, the way real wood planks would be. In addition, the tile, while not totally random, is not all the same. There are about four different colors and textures in each box of tile, and this pseudo-randomness makes for a pretty convincing effect. Finally, wood floors come to the beach!

Our bedroom, finished and loaded up.

Bedroom 360 A Go-Go

This project was complete by the always-incredible Victor and Ingrid of Carillo y Peon. We have worked with them in the past, and will continue to strongly endorse and work with them in the future. Their work is imaginative, reliably top-quality, and won’t make your wallet yell at you. And on a personal level, we have found Victor and Ingrid, both professionally and personally, some of the greatest, easiest to work with people we have met. We are proud to call them our friends, and you should be proud to call them your architects.

The whole project, start to finish, took about four weeks. This was longer than we expected, but then again, the whole job was much larger and more involved than we had expected, as well. And now, half of our existing home has been redone. What’s next? It’s either going to be a total overhaul of our guest house, or some much needed landscaping, outside. We’ll decide this month, and then start work in early October, so that means Volume 4 of this series is right around the corner! See you then!

When we first pulled into the driveway, we immediately knew something had changed.

The big hole in the front will (eventually) become a big pair of french doors opening directly to the outside, and the (hypothetical) pool. The hole on the right will become sliding wood doors, opening into a new closet; the first in the house. The smaller hole in the back will become a floor-to-ceiling window, giving the bedroom an ocean view. The small white door opens to our bathroom, with the house’s only shower.

Detail of the hole for the closet, with supports in place so half the house doesn’t collapse. The faith that Mexican masons put in tree branches is astonishing, but they work every time. Sorry about the lighting.

 
View from the inside…out.

This is what you see when you get out of the shower. It’s a lot like that dream where you’re naked in public. For bonus points, find Tripod, who thinks this whole thing is ridiculous.

I have to admit, the whole thing is definitely a little spooky. Keep in mind, this was a perfectly functional house, before we decided to go ahead and punch big holes in half of it. It’s also really hard to get used to the idea of houses and construction being totally liquid; walls go down, walls come up, and our masons beam with a confidence that I am envious of.

This was just a snack; we’ll be back atcha in a couple of weeks with the official update in our “Renovating Our Beach House” series, with before and after pictures, video, and more. And if you haven’t read what we’ve done already, be sure to check out the “Related Posts,” with links right below this entry.

When you’re a kid you think a lot about being a grown-up and all the things you will have and do. Playing M.A.S.H. was a a tremendous exercise in casting into the unknown, as was using a paper fortune teller*. All your options were there on the desk. These games presented what you might work for and also proffered a cautionary tale. There was chance and choice. In some aspects you got lucky and in others you lost. Heavy stuff. By the way, be wary of the girl who gets to live in a mansion in Hawaii with Kirk Cameron: she isn’t playing fair.

My dream house, like yours, had a swimming pool, a movie theater, a bowling alley and a ginormous bathroom with a jacuzzi. We all watched the Price is Right, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous and Richie Rich, and we knew all the trappings. It was the 80’s after all and there was nothing remotely gauche about the display. My peers, I am sad to say are the people who have brought the program Cribs into the zeitgeist. We wanted to marry Alex P. Keaton or Edward Stratton III or Governor Gatling from Benson and live out our quiet desperation wearing shoulder pads made of silk.

My blueprint always, always included a dance studio. I loved to dance. I loved to dance even though I was chubby and shy. I tapped in the kitchen and did splits in the outfield during softball. I walked with my feet turned out and studied anorexia in pre-teen fiction. I had to dance, or I would die. I knew from Fame and A Chorus Line that when you could be alone in a dance studio you could work out all your aggression and be exactly who you were. The room would require a wall made of mirrors and a ballet bar. I knew I would also probably need a hot pink boombox and and a water fountain that actually dispensed Hawaiian Punch. It was simple enough, especially compared to the Room of a Thousand Pillows and Dinosaur Roller Coaster Water Park. And it was all mine. No butter smelling siblings allowed.

Well, folks, I’m 29 years old and I am happy to report that I don’t live in a shack with 37 children. Nor do I live in a penthouse apartment with Conrad Baines. sigh. C’est la vie. The bowling alley thing I’m letting go of and I am finally resigned to never owning a pony named Samantha with raven colored hair, but I do have a room in which to dance and it is all my very own. I am content; a dream has been realized.

* also, cootie catcher.

Rumors swirled. Some suggested that Calle 80 was going to be permanently shut down to traffic altogether, and transformed into a pedestrian shopping zone. Other suggested that Progreso was undergoing a facelift and upgrade to its water system, to appeal to cruise ship traffic. Still others wondered if the whole thing wasn’t just a big show of new government spending, since the original asphalt streets didn’t appear to be in any state of major disrepair.

In mid-December, the Diario de Yucatan stepped in with what really happened, and what was intended. In 2007, Progreso was granted a budget of about 20 million pesos for improvements, that they had somehow forgotten to use and which would be yanked if it wasn’t used by the end of the year. So up came the streets, and down went our ability to get around town. The entire thing has proved remarkably inconvenient, and I questioned the wisdom of taking on such a large-scale project for purely aesthetic reasons, with so many other problems facing Progreso.

Now, in mid-January, it is all starting to become clear, and starting to feel worth it. Though many of the streets are still a mess, the ones that have been completed are quite pretty, done in white stamped concrete and then treated to look somewhat like cobblestone. The new street extends all the way from the malecon up Calle 80, to the main square and the municipal building, as well as a few streets east eand west.

What has had even greater impact, is that Progreso has paid for every local store owner to paint and repair the facades of their buildings. The restoration of the municipal building has thus far had the greatest visual impact (check out the picture above, where you can clearly see the before and after of the new paint job), but it seems that every building in town is getting sparkled up, from the always-grim Super San Francisco de Asis supermarket to the tiniest of pirated DVD shops.

The overall visual impact promises to be quite breathtaking, as Progreso attempts to (at least superficially) transform itself from the dodgy little port town that time forgot and the government ignored, into a beautiful, charming Mexican colonial city by the sea. We can’t wait to see it finished.