Out back


There’s only one way to look out back, and that’s through the upstairs bathroom window, which is a small one.

When I want to open that window, mostly to liberate steam during my showers, I prop it up with a kitchen knife. The window swings up, my own design.

These people live out back. I propped open the window with the knife to take this shot this morning. If you click on it, you’ll get a bigger version that you can then click again to get an even closer peek.*

Sometimes that happens here, and sometimes not. I don’t know why. Technology often confuses me. And the picture is not as sharp as I’d like, but I’m too cheap to buy a fancy camera.

Yes, those folks live directly behind us. We hear tell there is bad blood between them and Abel, the deadpan neighbor who mows our grass. Abel lives on the other side of the sex motel, you may recall.

Having bad blood with neighbors is not advisable. I don’t have bad blood with any of my neighbors that I know about. Sometimes bad blood is one-sided, however, and you never know about it.

My new paisanos are good at harboring bad blood.

* * * *

* I’m assuming you’re a pack of Nosy Parkers.

15 thoughts on “Out back

    1. Steve: My outlying neighborhood, which used to be a separate town, goes way, way back, centuries. Though many don’t have the proverbial pot to piss in, their properties tend to be very large. But ambition is not a big thing in my neighborhood. We like government handouts.


  1. I, for one, am totally nosy and love to sneak looks at private property when I have the chance. So thanks, Felipe – you should do this more often. 😉


  2. At least they keep flowers and an uncluttered walkway.

    Wouldn’t you like to know the gossip they tell about you? 🙂 If they don’t know you very well, they usually make up their own answers to their questions about you. All small suburban communities are like that.


    1. Carole: Being one of only two foreigners in the neighborhood, and I’ve been here far longer than the other guy, I stand out like the proverbial sore toe, especially since the other guy apparently does not live here full-time.

      Since my paisanos are world-class gossip hounds, God only knows what is being said about me.


      1. I’m one of only a few foreigners in my entire city, so I know what you are talking about. We’re as rare as hen’s teeth.


  3. I notice a boom box speaker pointed towards your abode. I hope they don’t turn it up to often, even though it is on the back of your property, those booming things have a way of vibrating down to the bones.

    We are in the sticks, far from neighbors, but occasionally I can hear the boom boom, from what direction I can’t say.

    At least they don’t have lots of pigs, chickens and horses to cultivate flies for your enjoyment.


    1. Tancho: Those folks are totally quiet. The home just to the left of the photo was quite the noise-maker a decade ago. There was a mostly unemployed guy there about 20 years old, but he’s 30 or so now, and has settled down or has moved elsewhere.

      Fact is that the racket the locals are so fond of making rarely disturbs me at all anymore. I guess I’ve grown used to it. Even the unbelievably loud concerts on the plaza, which occur about 10 times a year (I’ve kept count), don’t bother me because my wife and I just stick silicone plugs in our ears and sleep like babies.


  4. Exchange the red tile roofs and red brick buildings for metal roofs and asbestos siding and you’ve got Bubbaville, USA. Actually, I like this a lot better.


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