The richest poor woman in Mexico

Rich? Poor? By which stick do we measure? It is no secret I chose to play house in a small village in the mountains of Jalisco because I can do so and live well on my bare minimum pension. I live quietly, unobtrusively. By diligently shuffling pesos into my bottom drawer savings bank, similar to under the mattress, I can spend a week now and then on the beach. I am rich.

Sometimes I lose sight of how wealthy I am. The other day I was walking down Calle Del Pulpo, the street where I used to live in Mazatlan, turned the corner and Jorge jumped up from his chair. We both lit up like Christmas tre...