This morning, one of my tenants found a dead rat in my cistern.
Which is not how you want to start your day. But it’s actually the end of a story that started before I even moved in here, when I almost walked away from this property entirely.
THE WATER SYSTEM
When I first saw this place for sale it was overgrown and neglected, pretty rough around the edges. I could see past all that. But there was one thing that nearly made me run: the water system.
Growing up in the United States, drinking water came out of the tap. Simple. In Mexico, that’s generally not the case; most people use big garrafones, those five-gallon jugs, for drinking and cooking, and keep the tap water for everything else. That’s the norm, and I’d made my peace with it.
But the previous owners of this property had installed something else entirely. A massive filtration system. And when I say massive, I mean it’s big, it’s complicated, and it has more components than I can identify. There are these enormous cylinders, a pump, some filters I still can’t explain the purpose of. Reverse osmosis, the whole nine yards. When I had a plumber come out to do a routine check (and hopefully get a little education on the subject), he took one look at it and said I’d need a specialist from Morelia.
That’s a particular kind of intimidation I wasn’t prepared for. It’s not just the mechanical complexity, though that’s real enough. It’s everything layered on top of it. Not knowing who to call. Not knowing what’s normal here; what you’re supposed to ask for, how you’re supposed to ask, what a technician expects when they come to your house, what you owe them, how the whole thing works. And when I do find someone, I’ll need a Spanish speaker to make the actual call for me, because my Spanish isn’t there yet. Every step of getting help has its own set of unknowns. I felt small in a way I hadn’t expected, and not just because of the machinery.
So I bought the place anyway. And I’ve been anxious about that water system ever since.
THE CISTERN
On rural properties here it’s common to have a large underground cistern, a holding tank for water you use as needed. The filtration system is supposed to take water from the cistern and clean it enough to drink right from the tap. In theory.
Last year I had a rainwater catchment system installed to pipe rain directly into the cistern during the rainy season, which helps a lot. But in the dry season, which is right now, I have to call for a water truck to come refill it. It’s one of those things about rural life here that took some getting used to.
THE TENANTS
My new tenants are friends of mine, and they’ve been helping me keep an eye on things; monitoring the water level so we know when to call for a refill. I’ll say this about both of them: they are significantly more comfortable with things like this than I am. They research and they’re experienced. They figure things out. They don’t stand in front of a complicated pump looking helpless. And one of them is Mexican, which helps enormously when you need to make a phone call in Spanish.
I have been grateful for all of this, many times over.
THE MOMENT
So this morning he was out checking the water level in the cistern when he said something you genuinely never want to hear:
“There’s a dead animal in the cistern.”
My stomach turned immediately. He rigged up a makeshift net and fished it out. A rat.
I sent a message to the builder of the rainwater catchment system within minutes. How does a rat get into a closed cistern? What are the intake filters supposed to be doing? I need someone who actually understands this system to come out here and walk me through it, because clearly I’ve been operating on the assumption that everything was fine, and a dead rat is a fairly direct challenge to that assumption.
The Calvary Arrives
The builder came the next morning. With his whole crew, six men. I’m not sure if that was standard practice or if word had gotten out that the nervous American had questions about her water. I’m just kidding, I’m sure they were all their way to work together, somewhere else.
I showed him the system, explained what happened, told him I needed to actually understand how this thing works.
What he told me kind of stopped me in my tracks.
There is no filter on the way into the cistern. Nothing. Whatever is on the roof: dirt, debris, leaves, whatever else finds its way up there, when it rains, it all gets flushed straight in. I looked at the heavy concrete cover I’d assumed was some kind of sophisticated filtration unit and asked what exactly it was for. Basically, it’s where the pipes come together. It’s for access. Not filtration.
The complicated outgoing filters are supposed to handle all the sanitizing. He recommended a UV light (which is one of the components of the filter I have, thankfully)
He also mentioned, almost casually, that my friends nearby get the occasional lizard or bird in their cistern.
Oh good. So it’s a whole ecosystem down there.
I got the distinct feeling he thought I was just a panicky gringa making a big deal out of nothing. Six men drove out here for this. Maybe I overreacted. The rat, however, was not imaginary.
Apparently this is just normal rural Mexico water infrastructure. The system works. I have been drinking filtered dead rat-adjacent water this whole time and I am fine. Totally fine. Probably fine.
The cistern is clean, we chlorinated it and will have it scrubbed soon. The builder is busy and hard to pin down and I still need him to finish some things. And I now know significantly more about where my water comes from than I did two days ago.
I did not love learning it. But here we are.
And if all of this sounds either terrifying or weirdly appealing to you; if you’re watching this thinking I kind of want that life, rats and all, I have a fun quiz linked below. It’s called Find Your Mexico Spirit Town, and it will tell you which Mexican town matches your personality. The results read a little like astrology, it’s very scientific. Take it, find your spirit town, and then maybe reconsider whether you want the rural property with the cistern.
Or don’t. I didn’t. 🔗 Find Your Mexico Spirit Town Quiz: https://moramargaret.com/free-fun-quiz/
After a brief cold snap and an unusual rain storm, we went back to normal summer weather. April and May are the hottest times of the year here, and I’m trying to balance growing some warm weather vegetables with not spending too much on water. So It was really great to get my rain barrel filled.
My new neighbors have done an amazing job working on the casita garden and the place is looking better and better.
I’ve taken to calling this place finca de las ranas, for all the cute frogs running around. And since it rained,there are some very loud mouthed frogs at the casita at night. I love it!
The lovely jacaranda is in bloom with humming birds and bees loving it, and once again I’m grateful for the previous owners who did such beautiful plantings.
This life in Mexico is the life I chose, and I feel so lucky to be able to do that. It’s not always easy or comfortable, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I moved here for a different life. And sometimes… a different life includes a dead rat in your water system.
