Back from Bernal

We just got back a few hours ago from a five-day trip to the town of Bernal, near the city of Queretaro and an hour and a half from San Miguel de Allende. It took us, in our slow motorhome and with heavy traffic last Friday afternoon, about ten hours to get there from the Lake Chapala area, and somewhat less coming back today. The Guadalajara-Mexico City autopista (toll freeway) was very pleasant traveling, though extremely sparse in the number of gas stations and rather pricey on tolls with the motorhome.

Our first evening in Bernal was a bit surreal. When we left there nine months ago, we thought we would be back to live in our rented house within three or four months. Now we won't be living there at all. It was like a dream, a visit to a might-have-been reality.

We had left our cat in the care of our landlord, with various friends promising to pop in on her from time to time. The minute we arrived, I went looking for her. She wouldn't look at me. Oh well, not too surprising even if disappointing.

We had dinner in one of our favorite Bernal restaurants and chatted with the owner, then went for a walk around town. The surreal feeling was heightened by the eerie blue light shining on the pena, the rock outcropping above the town. It's something the town had experimented with before we left, and now they do it on weekends.

The cat pointedly ignored us till the next afternoon, then she let me pet her and deigned to purr a little. She got friendlier as the weekend wore on. We had a small cat carrier with us, and she was a very good traveler today. Now she's ruling over the bathroom. We'll get her spayed and examined in a couple of days, and there will eventually be pictures. It's great to be back with her!

Back to Bernal. We packed up our stuff and filled up the motorhome, alternating those task with visiting with friends in Bernal and Queretaro, having several wonderful meals and many wonderful conversations. It was bittersweet, to get a taste of the life we might have continued. But both Kelly and I have an inner sense that we made the right choice for us. I thought many times of Robert Frost's poem which begins:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

He ends the poem,

I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

In this case, living near Lake Chapala seems like we are (uncharacteristically!) choosing the road more traveled, in the sense that it's an area with a huge expat population. We'll see what roads lie ahead. I've certainly had enough travel for a while.

Ajijic errand day

This morning around 9 AM we took our little motorhome into Ajijic, about 15 minutes away, to do a variety of errands. (We don't have a car here.) I thought that a description of "a day in the life of" would be interesting to people considering living in the Lake Chapala area especially. It's hardly the most scintillating blog entry I'll ever write, but it's also the sort of local flavor that can be hard to find.

There's a guidebook for living here, Mexico's Lake Chapala and Ajijic: The Insider's Guide, by Theresa Kendrick, which has an amazing number of descriptive lists, from the obvious things like restaurants and places to stay to veterinarians and furniture stores. With research from that and from ads in both local English-language free monthly magazines, we'd compiled a list of possible destinations and items to get.

We began by looking for one of two pet food stores on the western side of Ajijic, on the highway. I think we saw the sign for one as we passed it, so we stopped near the other one. It was said to open at nine, but at ten after, it was shut up tight. Okay.

We then drove further east on the highway and parked the motorhome in deep shade -- it gets quite warm here in the middle of the day! We were both wearing short sleeved shirts and light slacks, with sandals.

I went into the telephone company office while Kelly went to one of the best hardware stores in the area. I took a number from an electronic device at the phone company, and after a while it was my turn. I told the young man that we had just bought a house in San Juan Cosola and we were wondering about getting a phone. Our conversation was in Spanish but he also speaks English. He explained that it would be about $180 US for installation, including the cost of the phone, and about $18 US a month. If we were living in one of the parts of San Juan Cosala where new phone service was available, it would take about two months. He asked for our address, looked it up on his computer, and said that he was sorry but no phone service was available to us.

I wasn't exactly heartbroken, as we had been thinking of getting a local Mexican cellphone to go with our Verizon North American plan cellphone which actually allows us to make lots of calls in Mexico within its monthly fee. We'll likely get a Mexican cellphone too so that people in Mexico can call us without it being a long distance call to the US for them.

Kelly had amassed a good pile of hose and hardware items, and after I helped him choose drawer handles to replace the agonizingly painful ones in our kitchen and bought a couple of packets of garden seeds, we were done there. We were helped by an efficient young woman whose English was excellent. I said, "Your English is as good as ours... did you grow up in the states?" She said yes.

We put all our stuff in the motorhome and left it there again. No parking meters, no signs limiting how long we could stay.

We left the highway and walked several blocks to Carlos' bazaar, a second-hand store. Much of this walk, we were the only foreigners around but as we got more into the center of town, there were more foreigners everywhere. It takes a bit of getting used to, but I'm enjoying this bi-cultural life more all the time.

We were on a furniture quest more than anything. There was a nice wooden desk there, but it was sold. We walked through the town plaza to the Secret Garden, where we had a delicious brunch. It's a garden restaurant in a back yard. Kelly and I had veggie crepes with salad, and it was delicious. I spoke to an American woman at the next table, and she said how she's been coming to Ajijic for three months or so every year for 14 years. She's in her early 70s now and commented on how much at home she feels here, how much friendlier people are. But with tons of kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids back home in Michigan, she's happiest being there much of the time.

As we left, I asked if she happened to know the hair salon with her name that was a few blocks away. Both she and another American woman at a nearby table highly recommended another place, right by the El Torito grocery store. We'd be going there later, so I said I'd check it out.

Next we walked a few more blocks to an incredible second-hand store, Barbara's Bazaar. It has room after room of furniture and all kinds of smaller stuff. I had been there before and was curious what my artistic husband would notice. We browsed happily for quite a while but nothing was exactly right for our house.

It was after noon by now, and the sun was quite high overhead, so we couldn't take advantage of the shade that usually is available when you are walking on streets in Mexican towns. We went to Lloyd's, an investment house (not exactly a bank) where we have an account in pesos. It's in an old mansion and we went first to one counter and told them that we wanted to withdraw some money. We gave them our account number and Kelly's FM3 visa. The helpful woman said it would be about ten minutes, but it was less when she said our check was ready. We thought we were getting cash so that was a surprise. She explained that we could cash the check across the building in another area. I relaxed in one of the many comfortable chairs while Kelly got pesos after again showing his visa. I watched the people: just about all seemed to be foreigners.

Kelly stopped in at another hardware store for some things the first one hadn't carried, while I checked out the hair salon. It was full of foreigners. I decided that I'd rather see about finding a more Mexican place in my own town, and started the grocery shopping. I took advantage of the fact that we had our wheels with us to buy a lot: lamb chops, ground beef, chicken legs still attached to each other, greens from an organic place in the area and other produce, our favorite yogurts, and more. This store is one of two I know of that carries a lot of US goods. I was glad to see Newman's Own ranch dressing, a favorite of mine, and it wasn't too highly priced. Mostly we choose Mexican goods, but we're not purists.

On our way out of Ajijic, the pet food place was open and I bought some lamb-rice naturally preserved dog food made in Mexico and about the same price I'd expect in the US. We stopped at several furniture stores on the highway too. A couple were a bit rich for our blood, but we found a desk for me and a huge bookcase which will act as a room divider, both made of pine. They should be delivered in the next couple of days.

Once back in San Juan Cosola, a cow crossing the street went slowly enough that we got past it. We were glad to get home and relax.

A Brass band before dawn

This is the fifth day in our newly purchased Mexican house. We arrived in our motorhome about noon last Thursday. It was a job to park it inside our locked gate. We were famished. I found a local tortilleria and we were about to make quesadillas when some people here engaged us in a conversation that confused us and cut into our joy at arrival. I'm not giving details on purpose.

Say what? Had we left Crestone? (People from there will understand this reference.) A bit shaken, we got to our lunch and then began unloading things and carrying them uphill to the house. The afternoon continued with two local people warning us, one at a time and in rapid Spanish, that the other one was a bad person and not to be trusted. I'm inclined to believe both of them on this one.

Ah, tropical paradise! It was all a bit much. The unheated swimming pool was on the chilly side but I got in it that first afternoon and felt much better. I've been getting in just about every day for a dip. It's still too cold for Kelly, who has ideas for warming the water in a solar manner.

But later for that. We're still figuring out what the light switches do or don't do, how the watering system works, and so on. I took our bed from the motorhome up to the house and created a makeshift bed on the floor, till next week when we will bring back our bed, other furniture, and cat from Bernal, where they've been since last winter. I got the kitchen sort of organized, while Kelly got the TV set up in time for watching the Olympics and fixed a lot of little things around the place. He got us back online after a few days.

I wasn't to the point of feeling we'd make a mistake, but every night I was dreaming we were back in Crestone, Colorado, where I was so happy to see my friends.

Things turned around on Saturday morning. It was still dark when I woke to the sound of a brass band playing. Kelly woke too. It was 5:30AM. We lay there enchanted, listening to the band, which was quite good. I wondered if it was someone playing a CD, but Kelly -- a mean saxophonist himself -- said no, it was live. As we listened, the band moved (marched, we assume) further away.

Why a brass band at that hour? We have no idea. Life goes on in Mexico at all hours.

I got up and greatly enjoyed the dawn, a steaming cup of tea warming me as I sat on the swing on our front veranda, gazing out to our peekaboo view of Lake Chapala, listening to the birds.

Later that morning, we went out grocery shopping and had some very friendly encounters with shopkeepers when we told them we would be living here. Last night some American friends came over and we enjoyed hosting our first guests. It made the place seem more homey. We're both enjoying puttering in the yard, which can use a lot of attention.

And so life continues, the echo of the brass band cheering me through the rough spots.

We now own a house in Mexico!

The Mexican house that I blogged about a while back is now ours! We closed yesterday. I had been quite secretive about where it was or just what it was, until we closed. A little caution was probably not a bad thing, as I had a chance after closing to chat a little with the listing agent. He said he'd gotten a lot of calls and internet questions after we were under contract, and that he could have sold the place for many thousands more! So we feel even more lucky.

We met the sellers at closing, and they are very nice people, a doctor in Guadalajara and his wife. The doctor told us what two of the trees we hadn't identified are: a pistachio and and a lychee. He planted all the trees there, over the 35 years they owned the place.

We will be offline for a bit, as tomorrow we are going over there and it will take a while to set things up there. The house is in the town of San Juan Cosala, about 5 miles west of Ajijic and very different, much more Mexican.

Here's a page of photos that Kelly put up a while ago for family and friends. We noticed the typo on the last photo and decided to leave it!

Lake Chapala real estate on the internet

A group of realtors in the Lake Chapala area have their listings at http://mlsmexico.com/chapala/index.html, which is a very useful and informative site. It's how we found the house we are buying! I have the impression that most lakeside realtors are members of this group. It is a sign of the professionalism of the realtors AT LEAST POTENTIALLY if they are members.

The part of the site that we used the most was the "Search Properties." Clicking on that takes you to a page where you can choose all listings or new listings, each category divided into residential and lots. Clicking on one of these takes you to a search form. You can limit your search here, or just click on the search button in the lower right to see a list of everything. On that list, first the properties for sale in pesos are given. (The peso is about 10.5 pesos to the US dollar as I write this.) After them, the places for sale in US dollars are listed, and there are a lot more of them. For each item on the list, there is a link with its ID number. I right-click on those and open them in a new tab in Firefox, or you can open a new window in your browser if it doesn't have tabs.

Now you're at a standard MLS form for that property, which may or may not be fully filled out. In the bottom left there should be a link to the realtor's website, and often there is a lot more information there.

I don't know how often this is updated, but some of the properties we looked into were under contract and not yet taken off the listings.

Here's another tip: once you are at a particular realtor's website, it's worth poking around for things that may not yet be in MLS or where the form didn't really describe the place well. In doing this at one website, we noticed it had four pages of home listings but you could only navigate by going to the bottom of page one to get to page two, etc. This became even more of a treasure hunt when we noticed that on some of the pages there were large blank spaces so it would be easy to think you were at the end of a page when most likely a property that had sold had simply been deleted without the white space being taken off the page.

This MLS website also has several other links to interesting commentary and resources about the area.

Kelly meets some kids

Yesterday Kelly went for a walk in what will be our neighborhood when we get our house. A boy noticed Kelly had a camera and he said, "Fotos! Fotos!" (That's how photos is spelled in Spanish.)

Kelly asked why, and the boy said he wanted his picture taken. Kelly agreed, and the boy and his buddies lined up together... the instigator is the tallest one. A shopkeeper came out and said, "Aren't they good looking!" Kelly showed them the photo and it was admired all round.

What it's costing us to live and travel in Mexico

I've just done some math regarding the costs of living and traveling in Mexico for us in December and January. These were not exactly usual months, but they give at least some idea. I've left out any bills that related to things back in Colorado or to our business. Also, even though we've been logging our expenses for years and both of us do it in a little notebook, no doubt a few things get overlooked.

In December, we left Colorado on the 2nd, entered Mexico about a week later, and were here by Lake Chapala before Christmas. Gasoline for the trip was $313... our old Toyota Dolphin RV gets about 17 mpg. I didn't sort out costs for the two countries. We also spent $100 for clutch repair in Mexico (would have easily been 5x that in the US!), a $50 fee to get the RV into Mexico, and $123 or maybe a bit more to take the toll highways. Total transportation, $586. Campground fees were $230. We spent $200 on groceries and $175 on eating out. We spent $50 in NM for our dog Larry to get updated on his shots and get the papers needed to get into Mexico. (Nobody asked for them, as it turned out, but they will also work for getting him back into the US.) Just before we left, we got a cellphone with a Colorado number that works in Mexico and that cost us the monthly fee of about $60 plus $60 in setup fees. Supplies and miscellany, including some clothing, came to $142. Total $1528.

In January, we didn't drive our RV at all, as it's parked in a backyard in San Antonio Tlayacapan, by Lake Chapala. It was a very quiet month as Kelly fell off a roof and broke a rib on the 5th, and we did very little for a couple of weeks. The total costs for the ambulance, clinics, xrays, several doctor visits, medications, etc., was $400. Yep, no typo there. Just before the fall, Kelly had spent $576 going into Guadalajara three times to an excellent periodontist, getting started with four dental implants. So total medical expenses in January were $1076.

Other January expenses were buses and taxis for $76, miscellany including propane for the RV $100, $30 for entertainment, $170 for groceries and $155 for eating out (about a dozen times), $60 for the cellphone, and $320 for the month's camping fee. Total $909.

Interesting, huh? I might add that we feel we lack for nothing. We are both rather frugal by nature, but we eat very healthfully and well. We don't drink much alcohol.

Your mileage will vary... so will ours.

We're buying a house with a view of Lake Chapala!

We've been casually looking at real estate around Lake Chapala , but things took a dramatic turn when we fell in love with an amazing place. There was another offer coming in on it, so we decided on the spot to make an offer too. We made an offer a little above the asking price, and we got it... we didn't tell many people till we found out that the seller had really signed the papers! We were able to make such a quick decision because if for any reason it doesn't work out for us as a home, it would be a good investment in this market. It was under $100,000 US, which is a great price in this region. Yes, that's a swimming pool. Unheated, but Kelly has some solar heating ideas.

I'm not going to say a lot of specific details yet, not till it's ours. It's on the edge of a small town on Lake Chapala, about an hour by bus from Guadalajara, which is Mexico's second largest city. It's not far from Ajijic, an upscale town and the center of the large US and Canadian population around the lake -- thousands of expats live "lakeside" in a variety of towns. So there's an interesting blend of cultures here, and lots of amenities like good doctors and veterinarians who speak English, excellent restaurants, thrift stores, health food stores, etc.

The property is about 1/4 of an acre, gently sloping uphill from the entrance. It's about 50 feet wide, so as you go uphill you pass through several areas, each with its own feeling. Gated parking is right at the entrance. And here's the peekaboo view of the lake:




The inside part of the house is very tiny, only about 535 square feet, probably the main reason the price was so low. The place has been owned by one Guadalajara family for over 30 years, used as a weekend getaway mostly. The listing sounded like it had about 1100 square feet but they measure here from roof to roof so that includes the huge veranda where we'll live a lot...



...and the gated "patio de servicio" where we'll put a washing machine and yard tools.

We are very excited. The property should close pretty soon. Then we'll change the locks, unload as much as we can from the motorhome, drive over to Bernal to visit friends there and to bring back the stuff in the house we had rented there, plus the cat. Then we will settle into living in our new little house and see what unfolds.

Of course, doing something like this raises lots of Big Questions about our future. The answer to all of them is that we don't know yet!

A young American journalist in Mexico

Today's post is excerpted with his permission from a letter written by our good friend Peter, a 22-year-old journalist currently living in Oregon. When we built our house in Colorado, he spent three summers helping us and acquired the nickname of our teenage slave. He just spent a week with us here, near Lake Chapala.

I'm not quite sure when the inspiration hit - probably while kicking back in my room, which is a garage next to where Rosana and Kelly have parked their RV. There I was, behind the high walls common to Mexican homes, when the distinct sound of American hip hop broke through the usual chatter of roosters bred for cock fights, passing children, and the three or four women who congregate across the street. Soon, the track changed to another hip hop song, again in English.

That's when I hit upon the brilliant idea of introducing Bob Dylan to the youth of Mexico. It would be a personal mission of conversion not unlike the burgeoning evangelical movement here. Bob is the soundtrack of my life these days. His music at least seems to revolve around themes of independence with no guidance, the open road, unrequited love, youth, fitting in or not, the meaning of life, and weirdness. I can strongly identify with most if not all of that these days. And he's also a genius, one that Mexican kids are foregoing in favor of fly-by-night songs that glorify drugs, violence, and overly emotional honey baby garbage. It's time to get serious.

I've spent much of my time in the last few days wandering around the cobble stone streets and narrow sidewalks, under banners of shiny plastic strips left over from Christmas, trying to start conversations in Spanish with actual Mexicans. The goal is the same as most of my trips: to learn about what makes people tick, and how the tick might be different from others I've met.

So far it's been pretty successful. I met a carpenter named Luis two nights ago, and we carried on for a while about when "buenos dias" becomes "buenas tardes" becomes "buenas noches." This was my opening subject, the piece that hopefully leads to good Spanish practice and interesting case studies in sociology. Luis and I talked outside his workplace about his strong faith in God and his work at an orphanage in the nearby town of Chapala. (He's part of that burgeoning evangelical movement, which created the orphanage.) The next day, I paid the place a visit, and he showed me around, pointing out the cabinets and closets he had built. We also ran into an overwhelmed-looking high school student. She had left what was probably a pretty normal American life in Tennessee a week ago to come shepherd a dozen preschool children who didn't speak her language.

This random interviewing has come with a few duds too. After buying some bread at a little convenience store I tried excitedly telling the two women behind the counter that the cell phone ring tone they were experimenting with was actually the soundtrack to this great movie called The Sting. But I forgot the word for movie (pelicula), and they just sort of looked at me funny.

Women, in general, haven't been very talkative with this guy gringo. Rosana says this is probably a cultural thing.

Overall, I've had better luck with the 20ish guys who run tiny tiendas, basically very small grocery stores. These places will sell all the essentials: Beans, rice, huge bottles of water (the stuff out of the tap isn't good for drinking), beer, Coca-Cola (which Mexicans drink like water), produce, milk, a little meat, candles with the likeness of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and tortillas. A steady stream of customers is almost optional. Often, I've learned, 20-something guys are put there by the family to babysit the place on the off chance someone will drop in. Naturally, these kids are bored out of their skulls, and tempting targets for vacationing American journalists who have lots of questions.

Yesterday in Chapala, I walked by another store and heard some American music. It was my chance. Another Sprite and another six pesos, and soon we were going through 22-year-old Martin's entire CD collection. He loves American music about as much as Mexican music. He played some Eagles, then something by Latin megastar Salina's brother. Then some Beatles.

"Eschuche Bob Dylan?" I asked.

Blank look.

"Musica de Bob Dylan es muy bueno," I said. "Es mejor que hip hop y los Eagles."

More blank, then a quick change of subject.

Need some reasons, I thought. But how to explain Bob in English, much less Spanish.

"Los canciones de Bob Dylan sobre totos los cosas."

Unconvincing. I gave up, but promised to send him a CD with a few burned tunes. Maybe some bluegrass while I'm at it.

Martin and I went on to talk about adjectives used to describe attractive women. Hot is not commonly used in Spanish, he said. He's married and has a five-year-old daughter and by the looks of his wife, a new addition will be arriving soon. He's bored tending the store - happy to talk to me for an hour and a half - but there's not much else he'll be able to do. Opportunities for social advancement seem sparse, but there is a certain security to his life. His family set him up with the gig, and with their help, and by working seven days a week, he should be able to survive. The CD collection, alas, will probably be his sole companion during the long days, as the wife doesn't appear to interest him much.

After an unsuccessful attempt to chat up a carp fisherman who actually hooked a six incher using a piece of tortilla as bait, I walked back toward San Antonio. From Chapala, it's about three miles. Midway through the very sunny trek along the lake, it came time for an ice cream bar.

Juan, another 22-year-old, and I were in full discussion mode even before I handed over my 15 pesos. The talk centered on the foreigners that have changed his native town so much. Los Canadienses and los Americanos have almost built themselves a separate city along the lake, he said, leaving the natives to live across the highway inland. New commercial districts have sprouted up for the gringos, complete with Internet cafes, larger stores, and other things that don't exist in neighborhoods where selling tacos from a card table passes for gainful employment.

Juan is doing a little better than Martin, living a stable life running the family business. Like most people who live here, he wasn't quite sure what to say when I asked him how long he had lived in the area. All his life, of course. How would it be otherwise? He's studying accounting and is obviously good with numbers, often explaining social issues with elaborate percentages and ratios. His father employs him at the store, and he works another job as guard at a gated community. He's crazy about his girlfriend, and there were hints that he would soon be going the way of Martin, turning la novia into la esposa.

Foreigners draw broad conclusions about a culture at their peril, but it's safe to say that the family is everything here. The institution takes care of you long past 18 or whenever you graduate from college if you go, providing connections, often direct employment, a social life, and, I'm sure, as much emotional support as you need.

Juan is set to continue the tradition. He'll probably get married, have kids, and soon, he'll be providing connections, perhaps direct employment, a social life, and all kinds of emotional support to his kids, his wife, and probably several dozen relatives.

There are many birthday parties, first communions, weddings, funerals, quincieneras, and Christmas gatherings in Juan's future. There may even be a crazy or deadbeat uncle to financially support, but hey, there's a reason this dirt poor town about the size of Brookings has fewer beggars and homeless than Brookings.

After two hours of lively conversation with Juan, I walked back to San Antonio, pondering this situation. It's almost a prison, from a Yankee perspective. Where American kids dream of leaving to become an actor in New York, Juan dreams of becoming an accountant in his hometown. One can only imagine the social norms and obligations that bring up kids like that. When Martin got married, he joined a family. When Americans get married, they talk of perhaps starting a family someday.

Prison isn't so bad if you don't want to leave, and the benefits to those who want to stay are very real, even if the obligations are huge. You can see this by taking a walk in San Antonio at about 9 p.m. The streets are packed with families sitting together, sometimes with friends, on the sidewalks, around the stores, in the town plaza. There are groups of age-segregated people, to be sure, but a group of three generations hanging out together isn't the exception to the rule that it is in the United States.

And people here smile more than Americans. Part of this is the climate, as Juan points out, but I wonder if a bigger factor isn't satisfaction. It's a big country, but the people in this little corner of it are not the nomads we middle class liberally educated gringos have become. We strive maniacally for independence, self fulfillment, love, and the meaning of life. Mexicans, meanwhile, seem to have much of what we're maniacally striving for figured out already. Love and the meaning of life are problems that I'm betting are tempered by a very large family that loves you and that lives close by. The sad conclusion of my evangelism is that Mexicans don't appear to have much use for Bob Dylan, save as a tool for studying Americans.