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Hard to believe that 3 years ago this morning we were serenaded by a brass band at 6:15am. Well, maybe not serenaded because as it turned out it was the day Mexicans here in Ajijic celebrate their construction workers and there happened to be one right across the street. But we didn’t know that, of course, so we smiled with delight, standing on our terrace in the drizzling rain, while the band played on.

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It took about 10 months to go from deciding to retire and move to actually landing in Guadalajara then taking a taxi (drivers there don’t know Ajijic very well and rarely speak English) to our little pink Mexican casa. During that time I resigned from my nursing job, Ben shut down his jewelry business, we visited the Mexican consulate in Raleigh 2 or 3 times, made numerous phone calls, tried to explain to my son, had a big gathering/potluck to explain our plan then sold 85% of our belongings, including our 3 vehicles. We worked our tails off to make it happen. We were motivated, psyched. This blog was born of that effort in an attempt to share the logistics, feelings and in’s and out’s of our big adventure.

A lot has happened during that time, of course: we bought a car, got our Mexican driver’s licenses, took Spanish classes for awhile, became permanent residents, moved from a noisy construction project right beside us to a lovely modern home in a small gated community 2 weeks after the Covid lockdown hit (and all that entailed), learned the ropes on paying bills, buying food, driving through the country, explored places like Oaxaca, Pátzcuaro, Tapalpa, visited the indigenous villages and artisans nearby, began making a new group of interesting friends, and so much more. It has indeed been – and continues to be – a big adventure.

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There’ve been a few health issues to deal with. That plus Covid slowed our hopes of traveling widely. But the places we have been, on toll roads and backroads, have shown us the beauty of this country. We have felt safe. We have grown to love the Mexican people who are so much more than the US media would have you believe. They are kind and friendly and quick to smile, quick to help you with your Spanish, quick to help you with just about anything.

Part of life here involves stepping up to help those less fortunate through food banks, employment with a decent wage, helping with medical bills, etc. Recent torrential rains clawed tons of mud and debris from the mountainsides, devastating many small Mexican homes and businesses. The local government, neighbors and gringos stepped in to offer immediate support. The annual Feria held in November generates a year’s income for artisans brought from all over the country. Canceled for 2 years now due to Covid. Our local “gringo” organization that provides so many resources for those of us from the US and Canada – the Lake Chapala Society – has stepped up since protocols have relaxed (masks and gel required) to provide a venue to sell small amounts of crafts easily shipped from the artisans, giving them at least some income.

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In May of 2020 we adopted our 20 lb. mini schnauzer Tumi, thinking it might be years before we could travel. He is high energy and high maintenance but has brought us so much joy. We have no regrets…except when lightning booms or cohetes (fireworks) pop. Like many other dogs, he hates the noise and hides shivering until surrounded with loving arms. We’ve made new friends walking him through nearby cobblestoned (not as romantic as it sounds) streets, both human (we talk) and canine (he “talks” to them). Can’t imagine life without him.

The architecture of places like Guanajuato, the variety of the geography, and the craftwork of artisans, the numerous celebratory rituals, and the glorious weather (no, México is not just desert and not just hot) are reason enough to be here. And we have barely touched the surface. We have friends visiting over the next 4 months. After that we’ll plan trips to Mexico City, Chiapas, and other places of interest. We don’t want to miss a thing. So the things we thought we’d settle into, like painting classes, major hiking, Healing Touch and aromatherapy, have all been set aside for now. It’s a different time in our lives. We don’t want to waste a minute of it.

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Postscript: The hardest part of all this has been leaving longtime friends and family behind. My sweet granddaughter Hazel Grace was born 2 months after we left. Covid put a crimp in seeing her regularly but FaceTime has kept us in the loop as she grows “like a weed”. Much love and many hugs go to my son Japhy, my daughter-in-law Toni and mi nieta Hazie. I’m not sure they’ll ever understand why we did this but I hope someday they’ll come visit.

I thought I’d be writing about Día de Los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, for this post. About how it was different from two years ago. But, honestly, I just didn’t enjoy it much this year, not after the magic of 2019. Color me spoiled. I didn’t go to the cemetery because they were only allowing 10 people in at a time to celebrate with their loved ones. The usual all day celebration with food, drink, and music was banned so I figured local folks needed to be in that cemetery a lot more than I did. Still, I suspect that’s where the true celebration was happening. That and the lighting of the wall of candles after dark. But we were home by then, not willing to stand in the narrow space between the church and the wall with a crowd.

Streets that were honored with numerous ofrendas (altars) in 2019 saw few this years. And the tapetes de aserrin – sawdust carpets – that graced the streets below the plaza in 2019 were sorely absent this year. Instead there was a solemn parade of Catrinas on the ciclopista (bike path) running parallel to our main street. We managed that crowd by moving frequently and leaving quickly.

The Friday and Saturday following that Tuesday celebration were honored with crafts from Mexican artisans at sales held at Lake Chapala Society. LCS, as we call it, is a local organization sitting on property near the lake donated years ago by an adventuresome woman named Neill James. But that is a story for another day. LCS offers classes, information, events, medical screening, a library and a second hand book/DVD store, among other things. For many of us who move here it is a lifeline.

Two years ago I posted a blog about the Feria Maestros del Arte, an amazing annual event held in nearby Chapala each November. Many of the 70-80 artisans, coming from all over México, made their entire year’s salary at that event. Covid, of course, put an end to that for now. So LCS stepped in to offer a space and time for “mini ferias” to be held. Artisans cannot afford to come for such a small event (two 4 hour days) so local LCS members volunteer to man the tables of crafts shipped from distant areas of México to be sold. At this latest of three events a few ceramic artists came from Tonalá, a craft community on the outskirts of Guadalajara, about an hour away. All the money from sales goes to the artisans. Ceramics, fabrics, toys, jewelry, and paintings are among the items available. Many of us miss the annual event and appreciate the opportunity to support the artisans in this way.

Other events are coming up in December and January. I imagine they will be smaller than usual also. Meanwhile, I’m enjoying fall in México. Ben is in North Carolina for two weeks where it’s cold and gray and often rainy. I’m gloating a bit as I walk Tumi each morning, capturing the feeling and colors of fall here in the Central Highlands. Cornstalks dried from the intense sun rustle in the light breeze. Most have been chopped down with machetes, fragments left as fodder for horses to enjoy. Poinsettias are coming into full bloom while morning glories wind their way through Mexican sunflowers and bougainvillea.

The rainy season ended just after our traumatic floods a few weeks ago, floods that left many with partially or completely destroyed homes and roads damaged and impassible. It was heartwarming to see how the gringo residents kicked in to help those in need. An opportunity to give back, to be part of the larger community of what we call Lakeside.

The air is dry now, with dust kicking up from car wheels and lush green foliage turning to shades of gray and brown. Most of us here like the rainy season best, but even now Nature is still in bloom, still filled with birdsong and gorgeous sunsets of pink, blue, and lavender clouds over the lake and mountains. The nights are cool in the 40’s-50’s but the sun when you live at 5200′ is intense by late morning.

We’ll settle in for the winter now, well, until we go to the beach next month. Meanwhile a few friends will gather here with us for Thanksgiving and we will be grateful for them, all we have around us, and the opportunity to be part of another culture.

I’m thinking it was our 4th trip to Patzcuaro, this trip we made last week. It’s comfortable, we know it, we feel at home there now. On arrival, greeted by Hotel Casa Encantada manager Luis, we were invited to upgrade to the “Gran Sala” since our requested room (Ángel) was still occupied. We’re picky. We hang out a lot. So we always ask for a sofa. The Gran Sala has a beautiful great room that looks out onto the street, along with bed and bath. And sofa. Gorgeous! Proprietress Victoria Ryan obtained the property in 1998 and has spent the past 23 years turning it into a charming art-filled Mexican getaway preferred by many, like us, who visit the town. With the plaza a 5 minute walk away it is a perfect location.

After some tacos and a brief look around we headed back to enjoy our room. Our entry into the town had been a bit traumatic for me. Shortly before we hit the main street we encountered a double line of young people wearing hats and a few, masks, 1 or 2 of them pretty scary looking. They were so close together we could barely pass between them, shaking “rattles” and calling out loudly. (Turns out they were students “begging” for financial assistance to continue their education. Whew.) As I was trying to collect myself from this minor trauma we were stopped by 2 policemen, obviously detaining white SUV’s. No English. “I’m not getting out. No español”, I told them nervously. One checked the VIN number on the windshield and the other came to my door motioning to look under the carpet beneath my feet. He wiped a metal plate clean then looked at his partner and said “They’re good.” His partner looked at us with a grin and in English said: “OK. Thanks. You can go.” If he only knew how many horrible stories I’ve read about cops stopping you and making it tough. No pictures on that one.

The next day we wandered out again, heading to the huge plaza that is always buzzing with activity, but not before meeting 2 interesting folks, gringos living in Guanajuato. That’s what I love about Hotel Casa Encantada. You always meet interesting folks. Nancy and Mike asked to join us for breakfast and we were so glad they did. They have friends in Ajijic and considered living here at one point. A great new connection.

It’d been 2 years since we’d visited Pátzcuaro, thanks to Covid, and we saw right away that the place had grown, as had the crowds. Luckily most people wore masks and gel was provided in most business doorways. This plaza is one of the best people-watching places I know of so we wandered through every day and every evening we stopped at the helado (ice cream) vendor and found a bench where we ate our fresh strawberry treat, literally the best I’ve had since childhood hand-cranked days. Though signs tell people to keep off the lush green grass, children (and dogs) are allowed. What fun to see them frolicking, enjoying themselves. I doubt many have that luxury at home. Grassy yards are not commonplace in México except in gringo communities.

This plaza, Plaza Vasco de Quiroga, is one of the largest in México I’m told, a large square with crisscross walkways to a center fountain, surrounded on all 4 sides by rows of businesses, new and old. El Cairo Papelería opened in 1913 and this was the first time I’d found it open to customers. El Asadero had just opened when we visited 2 years ago and we were happy to see it going strong. Simple Mexican food, cafeteria style, offered up by 2 young sisters and their staff. We saw no empty store fronts, only familiar Mexican craft stores, municipal offices, restaurants, etc. Business was booming.

Once again we heard the clacking of wooden shoes on the plaza sidewalks and turned to see a troop of hombres doing La Danza de los Viejitos (The Dance of the Old Men), a traditional Mexican folk dance and favorite scene of mine. This time some little guys were included, increasing crowd approval and photo ops.

It was not uncommon this time to see riders on immaculately groomed and outfitted horses prancing through the streets surrounding the plaza, even one pulling a rose adorned carriage carrying a young woman most likely on her way to the local basilica for her quinceañera mass. The quinceañera is a most important Hispanic tradition of presentan 15 year old girls into local society as adults. The special young woman presents at the cathedral in her carefully chosen dress with her Court of Honor composed of friends of her choice. Following the mass a reception is held with the young lady often performing a specially choreographed dance. Muchos pesos are spent for this big occasion. In fact this was the first of 2 young women we witnessed, the other already at the basilica with a few young women and a line of young men dressed in matching suit jackets. A fine band stood playing outside the church along with a tall young bride-to-be, smiling nervously as she awaited her turn for entering the sanctuary.

On Friday we met our friend and tour guide Jaime from Animecha Tours. Jaime is an encyclopedia of Mexican history and crafts. One of his primary tours is visiting artisan studios and store fronts in small villages surrounding Lake Pátzcuaro. Two years ago we spent 2 delightful days with him meeting many artisans and making many purchases. This time we had specific stops in mind, the first being a workshop in Santa Clara de Cobre where Napoleon and his brothers are third generation prize-winning coppersmiths. Ben had commissioned a piece from them on our last visit and he was anxious to see what new pieces they’d created. He was not disappointed. With a background in metal-smithing himself he understands the effort made to create an award winning piece. This time he came home with just that.

You just never know what you’ll see en route…

From Santa Clara we backtracked around the southern tip of the lake making our way to Ihuatzio, a village dedicated to creating a variety of items with reeds, arte en chuspata, harvested from the boggy edges of the lake. Several years ago an artist from Mexico City taught the artisans here how to weave over metal frames, making each piece more durable. After scoping out 5 different tiendas, in one of which I spotted the exact small table I’d hoped for, we headed back to the first and largest one run by Florencia and Samuel Morales where I sat in numerous chairs looking for comfort and craftsmanship complete with headrest. Bingo! Florencia herself carried my prize to our van.

We moved on to a small ceramics shop with some unusual red clay pieces. We’d originally planned to visit Cocucho, the mountain village specializing in the tall hand-built red clay pots burnished by hand and sporting black spots from the the firing process. But a 2 hour ride one way just didn’t suit us this time. This shop wasn’t quite what we were looking for but was fun nonetheless.

Circling back toward Pátzcuaro Ben asked if there are still any wood carvers around. Of course Jaime would know so on the outskirts of town we pulled up in front of a mass of chunks, trunks, and carvings of wood in front of a taller (workshop) run by el Señor Salvador Vargas Molina. We wandered through room after room packed with “treasures”, supplies, tools, piles of beads, paintings. Unbelievable. One wall was covered with painted wooden hearts which caught my eye as Ben discovered a frame stuck between some, well, I’m not sure what. El Señor and his sons do the carving and daughter Gabriela does the painting. We chose one item each and when Ben asked if they would sign their work, Gabriela disappeared momentarily, returning with a ballpoint pen and signing for both of them. A fine conclusion to our day of travels.

Heading toward the hotel we passed a group of seated protestors sitting under a shelter next to the railroad tracks – note that the train is only used for transporting products in México, not for people – with large signs hanging from the overhanging rooftop. Back at the hotel Luis explained that these were teachers, on strike due to withholding of their pay by ?. Let’s leave it at that.

We decided to look for new restaurants. Dang, veggies are so hard to find in Mexican restaurants. Ben found positive reviews for Verde Limone located not far from the Plaza Grande. A delight. Seemingly run by a group of young women with a sleek modern theme and classy food. Our friend Sydney (in Nebraska!) directed us away from town toward the embarcadero where you can catch a boat to the only island in the lake, Janitzio. (Next time.) On a side street a 50 minute walk from the hotel we found a jungle-like entrance with no sign. This was Tiendita Verde, an organic restaurant and store. Another delightful find.

Before heading out we decided to try a different way home, through the Nahuatzen mountains, indigenous land of the Purépecha people of Michoacán, catching the toll road at some distant point. We wound our way through some of the very artisan villages we had visited with Jaime then moved farther into the lush green mountains footed by fields of pink, blue, yellow and red wildflowers. A sight to behold. It reminded us of our mountains back in North Carolina, the very ones I had grown up in. Michoacán is truly a beautiful state. We’d heard in the past that we should avoid Uruapan due to cartel traffic but that is no longer an issue according to Jaime. Two large craft festivals take place in the state, one during Easter week (Santa Semana) in Uruapan and one in Pátzcuaro for Day of the Dead (Día de Los Muertos). Many festivals were put on hold all over Mexico these past 2 years but we’re told Pátzcuaro will once again hold its festival November 2nd though there may be some restrictions.

From the town of Zacupa, altitude 6500′ and population over 55,000, through the Cerro del Tecolote mountain range, we found our connection to the cuota (toll road), continuing the beautiful drive home. The tolls are not cheap (maybe $40-$50 each way) but the roads are well maintained and safe with gorgeous campo (countryside) to boot.

Home again, with our new prize possessions, we wonder how we could possibly manage any more “stuff”. But then I remember that this is not typical “stuff” and that supporting the handmade craft artisans of México is part of the reason we moved here, having been part of the artisan community in the US. So I know there will be more trips to the villages surrounding Lake Pátzcuaro and other areas of México we’ve yet to visit. And that’s OK.

It was Ben’s birthday so we headed out for a long promised day trip to the small village of Mezcala. Our first stop was the Colibri Gardens Cafe just outside of Chapala where bakers Georgina and Peter serve up a fine cup of coffee and a pastry – even gluten free! Then off to explore Mezcala.

As we wander through the village in our car we note the lake to our right where we find 2 parking lots. A Mexican man with a big smile and a messenger bag waves us in to the first one. An older man with a cowboy hat leaves his bench outside the little tienda (store) next door where his wife and daughter (?) sit and follows us in. “I’m a tour guide” the man with the tattered bag calls out. Ben baulks, “Tell him we don’t need one.” The guy spoke English. He got it. But as we walked toward the water he followed us anyway smiling and spewing out a nonstop history lesson. Jose was pleasant enough, with a big smile and obvious pride in his town and the famous island offshore. As I hand him 100 pesos for his time he touches the bill to his lips with a prayer, grateful.

At the end of the abbreviated malecón I see a family of squatters in a makeshift shanty by the water, a fat piglet tied and scraping in the mud nearby. Within minutes 3 different locals holding menus approach us urging us to come and eat at their restaurants there by the malecón. There was no one in any of them. No one. And I admit that with what I saw around me, I would not eat there (though I’ve read that the fresh fish served is quite good). But it was quickly apparent that the people of Mezcal are quite needy. “They’re hungry,” Ben says, hungry for business. Maybe hungry for food as well. He noted as we walked that no one was selling (though the stores were open) and no one was buying. Except for a workman and a young man in a nice car (go figure!) who bought snacks from a vendor by the plaza. There were very few cars, mostly “rattle-traps”, and no handy gas station, though I noted a PEMEX station on the main road on the way in.

When a mother and her young daughter stop to coo over our pup Tumi and ask to pet him, 3 other little girls nearby are smiling, hopeful, so we stop to let them pet him as well. He doesn’t mind and they are thrilled. Along the way I note an absence of elderly and pregnant teenagers, common sites in some areas of Lakeside. There is also an absence of masks.

The Parroquia de Nuestra Señora de la Asunción (Church Of Our Lady of the Assumption) on the plaza, the empty plaza, was built and dedicated in 1971. (Where is the original church? Did we miss it somehow?) An antiquated stone cross and figure of the Señora stand in small patches of grass in front, the only signs of the ancient history quoted by Jose earlier. “Our town is old, very old.” Mezcala was in fact settled by the Coca Indians around 1400 AD, over 100 years before the Spanish conquest.

The Isla de Mezcala holds the distinction of being the site of the last battles of the Spanish conquest, battles won over 4 years (1812-1816) by the native people with slingshots and sticks, enraged by the treatment of their people. But we’ll take that tour another time.

https://www.chapala.com/lakechapala/the-battle-of-mezcala-island/

A small black dog lies curled up on a plaza bench. He looks peaceful and healthy. Gazing down at him I notice his chest is not rising/falling. He must’ve died peacefully in his sleep. I wonder who’s missing their pup and who will find him there. And when.

Outside the village pavement narrows to wheel size trails (blocks?) with virtually no shoulder, just above the lake. We pass buses, dump trucks, vans and cars, moving carefully to the side each time. Drivers wave and smile. No gringos here. Tucked by the upper roadside are rows and rows of chayote vines, complete with wooden produce boxes waiting to be filled. Under one patch of vines sits a table with several pyramids of chayotes, and in front an old red bicycle, both waiting in dappled sunlight. The mountains here remind us of some of the mountains of North Carolina. We are not surprised to learn that the locals have been fighting to keep their land from developers since 1999. They do not want another Ajijic. They do not want an invasion of foreigners. Theirs is “common land”, collective property, and they want to keep it that way.

In 1999 a wealthy businessman from Guadalajara “confiscated” 25 acres and built his “rest home” (vacation home). He soon had the locals to answer to, causing him to surround “his land” with armed guards. The people of Mezcala took it to the government, a government that declines to declare the Coca as an official indigenous tribe since they have lost their native language and trajes (costumes). Lost in the battles of the Conquest. In 2018 the Coca won the right to keep their land, but the businessman had a few months to contest the ruling. I’ve yet to find the latest information. Did Covid halt the battle? And what happens if the Coca keep their land? I feel their pride but can they thrive on the maize, nopales and chayotes they cultivate? A double-edged sword.

https://www.theguardian.com/global-development-professionals-network/2017/apr/04/the-american-expats-moving-into-the-mexican-riviera-and-breaking-up-indigenous-communities

On the way back to Chapala “Los Mangos Restaurante“, a large pumpkin colored sign by the small highway, screams to be discovered. Tucked in a back street fit only for 4wheelers a middle aged Mexican woman smiles as she stirs a big pot, tending a wood fire as her early teens granddaughter with the striking face and budding figure runs past us smiling. Maybe her restaurante is the best (only?) one around but the nurse/spoiled gringa in me says no way will I eat in this poor, broken down village without knowing more. Not with my sensitive stomach.

“Mow-knee!” the young boys called out with expectant faces as we drive by the tiny unremarkable plaza of the unnamed village. “Mow-knee!” I wish now that we had stopped and paid them to let me take their picture. We found the tiny village after following a dual track road looking for the “Jardínes Agua” announced by the tall, faint road sign.  We found Los Mangos instead. We wave and turn the car around climbing back up to the pristine highway.

Coming and going we encounter smiling “weed whackers” by the roadside holding scythes and waving a red cloth, urging us to stop to add change to the propina bucket secured with a red tie to a broomstick that is topped with another red cloth. Unpaid road crew. Volunteers? Wish we’d stopped.  

On the way back we search for the tall skinny pole that holds the road sign for Tomahawk Steakhouse, an unassuming building.  We keep hearing how good it is so we wander in and encounter great service and mesquite grilled meat and veggies. We’ll be back. 

The main street through Chapala offers up a line of vaqueros (cowboys) and a young woman riding sidesaddle in a long white gown headed where? No time for a picture but it registers that this is not a scene common in the States. And less common here since Covid.

As the day ends the music down the street from our house softens, the neighbor’s dogs are quiet and the bugs (crickets?) buzz their lullaby. I lay my head down and am grateful for another day (finally) of discovering the charm of México. 

It has been TWO years since Covid smashed into our lives and changed everything. Two years that the Mexican people have been told they cannot gather to celebrate except within their own families. I expect we’ll hear fireworks (cohetes) and some loud music from nearby tonight. But the parade and public gatherings are once again on hold. The plaza may be decorated but mostly empty. So below is an excerpt and photos from my post just after that last public celebration of Mexican Dia de Independencia in 2019 since there is little to photograph today.

“Every year in September Mexico celebrates its independence from Spanish rule. A long weekend is filled with festivals, parades, contests, dancing, special food, and the battle cry for independence. Raised in 1810 by Miguel Hidalgo, the battle cry stirred the citizens to fight for freedom in a war that lasted over eleven years. All over Mexico the recitation of Hidalgo’s speech occurs at the same time on Independence Day Eve (September 15th): delegados, mayors and even the country’s president recite the famous battle cry known as “El Grito“. Crowds of Mexicans gather in plazas around the country to hear the famous words. Es muy importante para Méxicanos!”

Even with celebrations minimized there are still dozens of cars on the only street (carretera) connecting the villages by the Lake. Guadalajarans flood the little towns, enjoying a holiday getaway. From the perspective of living here (gringos and locals alike), it feels like they “take over”. They are city folks and not always as polite as the local people. Nonetheless, restaurants will be open and decorations are for sale by the street. Here in Mexico the locals take things in stride, smile, and make the best of whatever takes place.

It’ll be Ben’s birthday next week and we’ll celebrate with two other folks at an outdoor restaurant. Luckily we have many here. The rainy season is ending now so we’re soaking up the visions of emerald green foliage and ever-changing clouds, preparing for months of dry weather. I’m hoping that next year will be different and we will all gather in the plaza to sing and dance and applaud. Viva Mexico!

Old friends, old friends/Sat on their park bench like bookends…Can you imagine us years from today – sharing a park bench quietly – how terribly strange to be 70…OLD FRIENDS…Paul Simon of course. I’ve always loved that song and having just turned 70 last month, it has even more meaning. Visiting “old” friends was certainly part of the reason for my trip to North Carolina.

Like “bookends” my 2 nervously anticipated flights, my first since Covid, and 2 long delayed, long awaited visits with my granddaughter bracketed the beginning and the end of this journey.

Flying during Covid. Not enjoyable. Many people were without masks or wore them pulled below their noses even though mandates were clear. The flight to NC was packed and it was impossible to keep any distance in the Guadalajara airport. Rules were announced but not enforced. A woman beside me (where Ben would’ve been had he not had to cancel) wore a mask but coughed and sneezed throughout the flight. I wore 2 masks but held a scarf up to the side of my face for extra protection. I was glad to land in Charlotte where there was more space to distance myself. I’m glad to say that my taxi and Uber drivers throughout the trip were compliant with masking.

After 2 years away…I wondered if my 2 1/2 year old granddaughter, last seen in person at 6 months of age, would know my face from weekly FaceTime calls (thanks Toni!)?. “Look Hazel. It’s Abuela,” my son spoke softly. After a moment of consideration her smile cracked open as she reached for me with open arms. “Bela!” she called out. I melted…Ah, the wonders of modern technology.

Hazel is amazing of course so watching her, hearing her speak sentences, holding her, was a delight. Super active and high spirited, keeping up with her in the midst of jet lag and 95+ temperatures was challenging. Holding her while we watched Disney movies Frozen, Moana and The Good Dinosaur, even for a few minutes at a time, was the highlight of my visit with her. (Lovely messages and incredible visuals.) We also managed a few minutes of outdoor water play and some indoor watercolors, 2 of her favorite activities. Along with eating. Apple crisps & “peticots” – apricots. This child can eat! And loves most everything.

As I mentioned before I’d just turned 70 and my son turned 45 while I was there. Thanks, Son, for the little celebration! So happy to be with family!

The cost of a rental car for 2 weeks has doubled in 2 years so I opted for Uber to take me to (and from) the Charlotte Amtrak station to travel to Durham. I’ve loved train travel since I was a little girl and in these times find it safer. Masks are mandated and trains are filled to less than 50%. Seats are comfortable with plenty of leg room.

Once in Hillsborough I was blessed to have a loaner car the whole time from our dear friend Christine, who also gave me her apartment for the first week while she was away. In between lunches with “old friends” I soaked up the quiet time that respite afforded me. My acupuncturist and friend Robin brought me essential oils and took me to Ixtapa, the Mexican restaurant where our friend Gladis first started coaching me in Spanish. My friend Judy picked me up in her husband’s new Tesla and took me to lunch and then to her fabric studio in the old River Mill. I met my friend Mary at Timberlyne in Chapel Hill for lunch and caught up on all the news from Carol Woods, the retirement community I had worked in. My dear friend Shelton from Boone traveled down from the mountains to visit me for the day after 4 years of not seeing each other. Neighbor Blair gave me snacks and an old suitcase to carry my purchases back in as we talked about life in Hillsborough. Blessed!

Next I drove to Durham to spend the rest of my time in central NC with our friend Onja. Along with our friend Bill we enjoyed breakfast in a French restaurant followed the next day by a necessary shopping trip with friend and former coworker Cherry who graciously drove me anywhere I needed to go. A trip to the Apple store did NOT result in the new phone I’d hoped for. The high price and uninterested sales clerk took care of that. Somehow it has ceased to matter for now.

Onja and I spent hours talking and laughing. It’s been years since I’ve watched JEOPARDY. So much to learn! I got a lot of reading done while she worked during the day, as well as running some errands in the loaner car. Talked to my friend Charlene who was being cautious about Covid (thank you!). (It hit me full force during these 2 weeks that I am no longer tolerant of closed doors and windows, air conditioning and spending most hours indoors. I missed the breezes coming off Lake Chapala.)

As a belated birthday gift Onja took me to Durham Salt Cave, a room built of Himalayan salt bricks standing on a floor of pink salt. While you lie in specially designed loungers (“sound chairs”) music tuned to the chakras plays as a fine mist of salt diffuses through the air. Incredibly relaxing and detoxifying. Abrey and Bruce have obviously put a lot of loving thought into creating a special experience for their customers. Durham has surely changed in the last 10+ years. So much going on.

Amtrak took me back to Charlotte after my time with Onja, where I spent 24 hours with my son and granddaughter before heading home. I shared old photos and my baby cards I’d rescued from Ben’s studio with Hazie. Though I’d told her only the names and relationships of relatives in the photos, she gathered them up and spread them on the windowsill announcing “This is my family!” Unprompted. Smart cookie. Of course. How very hard to step away. When will I see her again?

Heading home rendered numerous delays related to severe storms. The line to reschedule was unbelievably long. Saturday morning Ben called to see if I’d check my email. (I was too busy enjoying Hazie!) “Your flight’s been canceled!” Surely not. A new and undesirable experience. But 2 lines down was another email asking me to confirm rebooking on a nonstop flight (yeah!) arriving in Guadalajara by 9:36PM, 2 hours earlier than the original flight. My son ordered an SUV limo driven by his friend Mina from Egypt to take me to the airport (Thanks Son). Charlotte airport is huge and there was plenty of room for distancing as I waited.

Luckily my flight was not canceled though it was delayed several times. This time the plane was only half full and I was allowed to take a seat by myself. What a relief! Eventually we landed in Guadalajara around 11:30PM. I managed to hit the green light button on exiting which meant they would NOT go through my bags and delay my time getting home. How happy I was to see my friendly driver Salvador waiting outside the door to help me with my bags – 4 is too much for 1 person to handle! By 1AM I was home. Thankful to arrive safely. And torn between 2 countries…I miss my friends and family in the States more than I can say. And being back with Ben, Tumi, and friends here is good.

Every day is different, but April 1st brought an unexpected turn of events.

Over the past few months Ben began having decreased energy and shortness of breath. With a history of asthma + a higher altitude he decided to see a pulmonologist. One test led to another and ultimately to cardiology. People always ask how the medical care is here. The docs we’ve seen are world class, trained mostly at the University of Guadalajara with residencies in the US and other parts of the world. All speak English. The biggest difference I see as a former nurse and family member is often a more personal approach. You are a partner in your own care, a human being, and caregivers are welcomed.

An echocardiogram showed a large blockage in one of Ben’s coronary arteries so surgery was a future probability. But on the day that he experienced chest discomfort for several hours in a row we decided to go back to the cardiologist. We could no longer wait. That was Tuesday, March 30th. “We can go to Guadalajara today,” Dr. Briseño said. “Or we can go Thursday. It’s the beginning of the Easter holiday and traffic will be lighter. The hospital won’t be as full.” In a city of almost 6 million people, this was a plus.

We spent the next day finding a dog sitter then letting family and friends know we’d be away for a day and a half. Packed clothes, gathered meds, reading material, etc. On Thursday morning our driver delivered us and our bags to Hospital Terra Nova emergency room just in time (even after encountering a roadblock set up to divert traffic away from bicyclists going into the city!) to meet Dra. (feminine title for doctors) Ashley, Dr. Briseño’s partner. The admission process was quick since they were expecting us and within 30 minutes Ben was in surgery.

Dr. Briseño had told us that the hospital wasn’t fancy and the food wasn’t great. Right on both counts. But Terra Nova was clean and quiet, the staff was friendly, and he had the staff and equipment he needed to do the best job. Many of the nursing staff spoke at least some English. Some spoke none. Younger nurses whipped out their cellphones and used Google Translate along with apologies for not knowing more. Heck! I was impressed. It’s their country after all. But I was grateful for the amount of Spanish I know. It definitely helped. And the experience motivated me to learn more.

Ben went through the cardiac catheterization and stent placement fine. Leaving the next day looked good. Then the unexpected turn of events.

When I woke about 6AM Ben looked miserable. He’d been in pain all night. Staff was in and out while I slept in spurts on the couch provided (more comfortable than his bed). When I awoke it took me a few minutes to realize that he was truly in serious pain, stating “something isn’t right”. We called the nurse and tried to explain. Shift change. We told another nurse. In a little while she returned with a shot for pain. It did nothing. Again we asked for help. She’d call the doctor again. After what seemed like an eternity Dr. Briseño arrived and saw that Ben truly was in distress. “Can’t send you home today. I’m taking you back into surgery to see what’s going on.” “Knock me out this time”, Ben told him. Experiencing stent placement with “conscious sedation” was just too strange.

This is when it hit me that we could be in serious trouble. The nurse in me went “out the window” and this partner/caregiver burst into tears. Being there alone was tough. The worst case scenario passed through my mind in a flash. Not a thought to hold on to but I steeled myself for whatever might happen.

Within 45 minutes Dr. Briseño arrived and sat face to face with me to explain the outcome of the second procedure. Luckily the stent was in place and functioning correctly. “If this resolves in the next 24-48 hours we’ll know that everything is OK, that it was just a stress response to the procedure.” Placed on IV fluids and medications we watched closely over the next 24 hours. And things did indeed begin to improve. It was Saturday, a day late, but we were going home! New medications and restricted activity for a week. But home.

I should say, before we leave the scene, that though the food was not very good, the kitchen staff was delightful. A couple of times I roamed the lovely urban neighborhood and found a specialty food store, a nice deli, and a sweet coffee and quiche shop to fill in the gaps. It was good to be outside doing a bit of exploring.

It was interesting being in a different medical setting after my years of nursing. I see more clearly now from the perspective of a family member, especially in a foreign country. The limitations of language were difficult. Being the patient advocate was still priority, but tougher to accomplish. I hope there are no more “unexpected turns” of this kind. But if there are we’ll know more about how to manage.

There’s a huge difference in the discharge process from a hospital here. Your bill must be paid before you leave. In fact, in some cases it must be paid before you’re admitted. Though Mexico is a cash economy some of the hospitals do take credit cards. The problem is that if you use insurance – we’d purchased a Metlife policy here – you must present “Facturas” to the insurance company for approval before you can leave. These are government forms, official receipts that no provider likes to complete. Once all insurance requirements are met nursing sends you to the checkout desk with a piece of paper to be stamped Pagado (paid) before they can send you home with medications and discharge instructions. We’ve heard horror stories of people waiting up to 20 hours for this process to be completed! After 5 we’d had enough. Ben’s energy was waining. Luckily a phone call to our rep speeded the process and we were soon in the lobby waiting for our driver. Two hours later we were home. Exhausted.

The support we’ve experienced here has been amazing. I let it be known that food would be an issue and food arrived, including through NOB family members. A neighbor walked the dog. Friends called and wrote daily. I spent a good amount of time on Facebook and email during this whole process. It did make things easier. Even now, when I’m walking Tumi on our usual route, other dog walkers and neighbors ask how Ben is and wish him the best. Sometimes he’s with me now, after weeks of being unable to manage the climb, cobblestones, and distance. He’s on the mend. Slowly but surely. This unexpected turn of events classifies as another adventure in paradise!

November marked our 2 year anniversary of life in Mexico, and it is in fact a very different life in so many ways.

A year ago last week we moved into our “new” house. I named it “the Hallelujah House” because of its wonderful energy and “open arms” welcoming my weary soul in. It was our escape from persistent daily pounding from the house going up against our outer wall. A house that has only recently been completed. Two days after our move renters Bill & Glynis moved into our little casita for the month of March. Two weeks after they moved in the pandemic hit and they high-tailed it back to Canada. We were in lockdown.

And there we all were. Stunned, overwhelmed, depressed. Some of us in denial. Stuck at home. Groundhog Day…after day…after day. I found myself often curling up on the bed in my room full of purple ( a good healing color) and Mexican crafts, watching Netflix. (I’ve seen a lot of good movies and TV series this year.) Sometimes I’d work on a blog post but as I went out less often (just for food and cash) I had, of course, fewer photos and less to write about. And less motivation. We are blessed and I know it. To be in this house with its beautiful view, nice neighbors, and everything we need. Still, it’s been hard for most all of us around the world, if on different levels.

Locals rallied here to set up meal delivery and veggie and fruit delivery to help keep things rolling. Markets closed but quickly reopened with new hygiene protocols. There are so many who’ve lost jobs and loved ones. Many of us reached out to local organizations, artisans (Jesus Lopez Vega below left), our housekeepers (Alba below right), gardeners, & handymen (I told you, blessed) to help things stay afloat. I doubt we’ve seen the full impact yet. Businesses closing. Kids trying to learn something any way they can. They’ve lost a year of learning I’d say.

Ben and I both have some medical issues but we’re taking care of them. Medical care is generally good here and though costs are out of pocket, prices are much lower than in the States. Most doctors & nurses are trained in Guadalajara at world class medical facilities. Still I find myself a bit nervous about starting all over, going from a world I knew so well as a nurse to one where I am the patient & customs are different. It takes time to settle in. Funny how we crave the familiar when we’re stressed.

Here in Ajijic we’re blessed to have many outdoor restaurants, all following Covid protocols. So we’ve been able to eat out, mostly alone but more recently with one or two friends. The covered terraces of our house and the warm days have made it possible to share food & drink here with others in the past two or three months. The view of nature as we sit sharing stories is soothing & restorative for us all.

2020. A tough one for sure. Covid. The state of the world. So intense. Who knew that our love of travel would be squelched by the pandemic. We came here knowing we would revel in traveling across México, delving into its culture. We came here believing we would be able to return to NC at least twice a year to see family and friends, to see our sweet granddaughter Hazie turn 1, then 2. (Will she be 3 before we see her again?) There’ve been days I’ve been filled with grief, for life and loss, some days caught up in grieving for so many who have lost loved ones or jobs, friends who are quite ill, the disconnect between politicians and people, the Earth and its decline (temporarily masked by the strike of the pandemic), and the harm people cause to each other. As well as the loss of identity related to my work as a nurse and Ben’s career as a craftsman for so many years. Though we chose to leave the US, it has been a huge adjustment in many ways, leaving us emotionally and physically exhausted beyond understanding some days. Adding a pandemic to that mix has often been overwhelming. But it’s getting easier day by day.

Now there is hope it seems. The world is opening up a little. The fog is lifting, as they say. As I look around, begin to get out a bit, talk to friends more, feel the warm Mexican sun on my face, enjoy our little pool, our sweet dog Tumi, and working in our small yard, I am grateful for all I have. I don’t mind wearing masks, washing my hands more often, avoiding crowds. It is a sign of respect for my fellowman. We walk Tumi every morning through nearby neighborhoods, greeting other dog walkers along the way. Talking to Mexican friends Thomas & Dessy who help me with my Spanish & share news about their lives. Saying Hi to my “pet” iguanas climbing out of the stone wall drain. I’ve named them Pedro & Lillie. Don’t ask me why. But it makes me smile. Down at the corner by the main road a group of men gather most mornings next to a cow & her calf, drinking a mix of fresh milk, tequila & Nescafe. They flash silly grins in greeting as we pass by. Not my idea of a good breakfast. Like I said, a different life.

Somewhere along the way I decided to let go of many of the expectations I have of myself and everyone (poor Ben) around me. The bed doesn’t have to be perfectly made. The floor can stay dirty another day. The decorating can wait. The casita can wait to be occupied again. I don’t have to get everything done. I can just read or write if I want to. I’m more relaxed now, more apt to laugh. More apt to spend time with friends rather than making sure everything is in order. Finally.

So can I adjust to this different life? Most of us are adapting to life with Covid. Vaccinations are running behind here. We have several friends who’ve been sick but luckily all recovered. Many who’ve flown back to the US for vaccines. Will we be able to travel again soon? Most indigenous areas aren’t safe yet. Are we glad we moved here? It’s been the adventure of a lifetime. Will we stay here the rest of our lives? Living this different life. I can’t tell you. But for now, the sun is shining and there is hope around every corner.

Special thanks to my friend Andree who reminded me that my blog keeps us all in each others lives. If you want to help me continue – posting comes with a cost – any contribution to my DONATE button is welcome! Stay well out there!

Gratitude. Now there’s a word that gets thrown around a lot. There’s even some sort of research proving its value I think. I never could stick with the program, writing down three things in a book everyday. But sitting here on this Sunday morning before Thanksgiving with our doors and windows open (as they have been since we moved in), blue sky, light slightly chilly breeze with only the sound of an occasional car or rooster in the distance, I realize how truly grateful I am.

Two years ago on this date we were packing our suitcases. Our house in Hillsborough was virtually empty and the crates containing items we wanted to hang on to were headed to Laredo, Texas, before crossing the Mexican border. We were excited, nervous, happy, scared, uncertain. Maybe we’d only stay for a year. How would it feel to leave loved ones behind? On November 27th we took flight from RDU to Guadalajara, arriving in a taxi at our little Casa Morada (purple house) as we stepped into a whole new world.

We celebrated our first Christmas with new found friends, anxious to venture into a new year of promise and excitement. Since then we have traveled to several of the many places we want to see: Guadalajara, Tlaquepaque, Tequila, Tapalpa, Mazamitla, La Cruz, Sayulita, Oaxaca City, Teotitlán del Valle, Tlacalula, Monte Alban, Zitácuaro, Pátzcuaro, and the artisan villages around its beautiful lake. We have visited gracious artisans in their humble homes and attended the annual Feria Maestros del Arte in Chapala. Our experiences have been unbelievable, leaving us hungry for more.

We have attended festivities in the streets of Ajijic, including Día de Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), Mexican Independence Day, and anything else that deserves a party. We have met new people, begun new friendships, gotten to know our neighbors and learned our way around. I’ve attended Spanish classes regularly while Ben joined the hiking group and a couple of art classes. We’ve obtained our permanent Mexican visas. After two months of hauling groceries up our steep road, we bought a car, took a class, and obtained our Mexican Drivers Licenses in Guadalajara. And so we stretch ourselves beyond our expectations.

We managed to return home to North Carolina twice last year, smitten by our new granddaughter born in January. Moving was an option only because we could travel back to see her and friends could travel to see us. And some have. We hope more will come in the future. Our little casita awaits.

In October 2019 construction began on a house adjoining our bedroom wall. I was nowhere near grateful for that experience. Except that by the end of February 2020, after months of listening to pounding all day, every day, we had purchased a beautiful, well-built house in a small gated community of friendly people. We had plans to visit my son, his wife, and my one year old granddaughter in April. We were settling in. Then it hit. Two weeks after our move. COVID lockdown. Now what.

I had only recently steeped myself in information about the severity of what some call “climate collapse”. Just as I shook it off enough to move forward, along came the pandemic. Like so many others, I crashed into depression, barely able to manage some days. But we did. We found ways to order food delivery, stay in touch with friends, get out and about safely, entertain ourselves with reading, music, and online learning. Masks have become a fashion statement as science learns more and many of us shift into some sense of acceptance of our limitations. We all know this could take awhile. Life has to go on, though it may never look the same.

So here I sit, keys clicking, my mind moving quickly from one scenario to the next. Shifting from the strain of limitations to the joy of gratitude and grace. There are so many here and around the world who have so little. And perhaps there is much yet to descend upon us as the world’s economies lose ground. As the transition of power in los Estados Unidos (the United States) brings such discouragement and uncertainty. Yet each day is a lesson, an opportunity to help others, to better ourselves and our world, to appreciate what we have.

Today I find myself grateful for my partner, Ben, and our sweet pup Tumi; for FaceTime with my granddaughter Hazel, my son Japhy and his wife Toni; for friends who stay in touch, both here and back in the States; for the colors, the artists, and the art of México (and the world!); for the patience and kindness of the Mexicanos; for good food and water and the opportunity to share it with others; for birds singing all around me, for the field of corn behind our house, and the lake and mountains in front. And so much more. I give thanks for it all, and for all of you who follow the stories of my adventures, both mental and physical, in my home of dos años (two years) – México! Ten cuidado! Be safe!

The town of Tapalpa lies 1800′ above Lake Chapala at a height of 7200′, nestled in the evergreen forests and rolling meadows of the Sierra Madre Occidental mountains, a favored weekend spot for Guadalajarans and others seeking a cool mountain getaway. Taking the beautiful scenic toll road 54D just beyond Lake Chapala toward Colima through a shallow “dry” lakebed, you see knobby red volcanic rocks partially submerged in shimmering silver water, egrets feeding, and sea birds taking respite on their journey. Some say the lake is a mirage, but these things tell me otherwise.

The name Tapalpa comes from the Nahuatl word “tlapalpan” meaning “land of colors.” We were told fields would be full of flowers and they were. Roadsides going up the mountain were packed with wildflowers spilling over into meadows dotted with yellow sunflowers, pink comos, purple salvia, and scatterings of orange, red, and yellow flowers I’d never seen before. Gorgeous!

Though the Spanish arrived in 1523, Tapalpa was not registered as a town until 1825. In 2015 the census of the town proper was 5,566, with an additional 14,000 in the surrounding municipality.

In 1840 the first paper factory in Latin America was opened in Tapalpa but was shut down in 1923. Its abandoned ruins have become a local tourist attraction. Other attractions include a 345 ‘ waterfall (Salto del Nogal) and a mysterious scattering of huge boulders dumped across rolling fields (Las Piedrotas). Woodland cabins and hiking trails on the mountainsides are popular places.

Unlike many other towns in Mexico, Tapalpa’s architecture includes wooden doors, beams, and ceilings due to the abundance of forest land. Its traditional buildings have white facades with terra cotta roofs and red trim. There are six traditional public fountains (pilas) where people used to get their daily water, some of the six memorialized, others seemingly forgotten as the town has moved toward more modern ways. Tapalpa was the 5th of 83 towns to be designated Pueblo Mágico by the Board of Tourism. These “Magical Towns” are awarded their status based on natural beauty, cultural riches, and historic interest. Like most Mexican towns, shops, restaurants, and, in this case, two churches, outline the town plaza where locals and visitors alike stroll along talking and laughing while children ride bikes and visit the ice cream and snack vendors.

The Temple of San Antonio was built by the Spanish Franciscans in 1650. It is noted for its large vaulted ceiling. The construction of the Church of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe began in 1950 due to damages to the old Temple, which now serves as a museum of sorts. Contributions of the locals paid for the construction of the new church, built almost entirely of red brick.

On a leisurely stroll we rediscovered one of our favorite restaurants, La Cuachula, where regional food is cooked by Gaby and her mother, Gaby. The slapping of hands told us the tortillas were fresh. Best Mexican tacos I’ve ever tasted. Only three tables. Outside. Crazy busy. Afterwards, walking by some village shops, I encountered an elderly lady with a basketful of dulces (candies) and couldn’t resist taking her picture after buying a few goodies. She giggled then bowed her head and crossed herself after kissing the 100 peso bill I gave her. I hope others helped her that day. Tapalpa is well known for its preserved fruits and jams, which we’d enjoyed on our last visit, so we wandered until we found them again. Local pride in displaying their wares is delightful.

From our hotel window and the town plaza we were lucky enough to see Nevado de Colima fairly clearly. This is an inactive volcano and part of a complex of three that includes one of Mexico’s two active volcanoes (Colima) three miles away. Nevado, or Tzapotépetl, is quite impressive at 14,015′.

Since most of our travel in Mexico has to do with the country’s wealth of fine crafts, our next venture was to search for local artisans. I’d seen a wool shop on our last visit and searched for it again. With two woolen shops side by side, I chose the one with the welcoming doorway. The pristine little shop serving as entrance to the family home was filled with handwoven and knitted goods from local wool. Most things seemed too heavy for Ajijic weather until Rosario, the shopkeeper/weaver representing the family of José Delgado, tossed a lightweight throw over my shoulders. Soft as butter. I’ll take it!

Next stop was the huarachero, master of famous huaraches, Nicolás Lizares. We knew it was close so I stopped a shopkeeper in her doorway and asked if she knew him. Her face brightened – Si! She led us around the corner, pointed ahead and used her hands to indicate motorcycle handles. “Vroom! Vroom! she said. Allí (there).” A block away was a motorcycle in front of a doorway. We knocked on the door and as a smiling Mexican woman opened her door for us, a middle-aged man pulled up outside on a 4-wheeler (cuatrimotos are the perfect vehicle for zipping around the countryside), dressed in “farm clothes” and a Harley-Davidson cap. We’d found our man.

We never asked his name, though we knew he was not the older man in the picture I’d found earlier. Here was the son of the Master. Trained by his now absent (?) father. He spoke no English but his son-in-law did and kindly interpreted for us. The studio was a mess but the huarachero was jovial and charming. Though he only makes huaraches to order, a few samples sat nearby. Ben picked out a style and color, the huarachero drew a pattern of his foot, Ben wrote his contact information inside the lines, and delivery was promised within three weeks.

There is something quite amazing about visiting artisans in their home studios. It is a connection like no other. I come closer and closer to buying only from them whenever possible. Supporting them brings me joy and the energy of these handmade items, with traditions stretching back for decades, is unmatched by any store-bought item.

Two nights in Tapalpa isn’t nearly enough, but in this time of Covid it was a good way to get our traveling feet wet. The ride home was a quiet one, filled with sights of the gorgeous landscape of Mexico. I’ll be glad when we can venture out even further, but this was a good start.

Maybe it’s ending today…this lockdown we’ve all been under (though not all have taken it seriously).  Hair salons, some restaurants, and other “essential” businesses are allowed to open in Ajijic now.  Like so many others, I wonder how it will feel to re-enter the “rat race”, though that phrase has a different meaning in this village of gringo-Mexican mix.  We thought we’d be relaxing once we retired but moving here sent us into a spin of problem-solving, searching, shopping, eating out, attending events, making new friends, and dealing with LOTS of traffic. Not so bad compared to an 8 to 5, but busy nonetheless.

Then COVID-19 hit.  And here we are.  At first I was nearly ecstatic at being sequestered.  Wow!  You mean I’ll actually have time to do all those things I’ve wanted to do for years while I was working but was too exhausted or distracted to do?  So I’ll dig in, right?  Spanish, books to read, aromatherapy and Healing Touch information to review, mending/sewing, writing in my journal to my son, more yoga and meditation…the list goes on.  Somewhere in my upbringing – probably Depression era parental/Christian work ethics – I became a project driven maniac.  If you aren’t productive, you aren’t a good person.  You aren’t valuable.  So dig in.  Wrong.  I am just not motivated.  Everyday seems the same except for cleaning a different part of the house.

I made a few phone calls to the states early on hoping to maintain beloved friendships. After awhile I just started sinking into the couch or the guest bed for hours at a time.  The new season of OUTLANDER became my escape, after I made my way through dozens of episodes of 5 or 6 Turkish cop shows.  I tear up at the OUTLANDER episodes since they take place in the mountains of North Carolina.  (Though they were filmed in Scotland!)  My Spanish books are on the terrace, but I’m bored with them.  Can’t stick to it.  Sewing?  Too much trouble.  I’ll probably never make those clothes I cut out a few years ago.  Yoga has been replaced by…oh, yeah!  I forgot to tell you we decided to get a dog.

 

There are an amazing number of street dogs, puppies, and abandoned mutts here.  It’s sad really.  Gratefully, gringos have taken on the task of gathering them up, feeding, neutering, and placing them.  We adopted our 4 year old schnauzer Tomi (like Toni with an “m”) from a young woman who had to move away.  Thanks to him our 2-4 hour morning leisure time with tea, coffee, and iPads has been cut in half, propelling us out the door for a walk before the heat sets in.  About 50% of us walking on the streets are wearing “cubrebocas”, masks, now.  We’re learning not to judge the ones who aren’t, just steer clear of them.  We are all dealing with this in our own way.

Now self-reflection stares me in the face.  While I sometimes worry that I will curl up in fetal position during this lockdown, slide into depression, and never surface again, I find I’m learning more about myself every day.  Wherever you go there you are.  Be here now.  Issues I’ve buried for years are surfacing to be dealt with.  The “letting go” that keeps popping up for me is becoming more of a reality and less of a cliche.  (Thank you Elizabeth Gilbert and Matt Kahn.)  My partner Ben, whom I thought would drive me crazy the whole time (should I move into the casita?), has become adept at listening and asking thought provoking questions.

Like others who’s stories I’ve read, I’m nervous about transitioning back out into the world.  Nervous about a new wave of COVID-19 once everyone drops back into “normal life”.  I know there are many in Mexico and the US who are struggling financially and I worry about them.  How long will this virus run out of control?  How will our lives, our cultures change?  How many of us will just pretend it never happened and learn nothing from it?

I miss my son and his family, my friends, the landscape and familiarity of North Carolina.  A few years ago I asked my daughter in law what she thought about us moving to Mexico.  She looked at me and asked “What will you do if you get down there and you can’t get back?”  I’d never considered the possibility.  Now I wonder – when will I get back?  Will it be safe?  In July it’ll be a year since I’ve seen my granddaughter.  Sadness creeps in.  I miss traveling.  I miss seeing other parts of Mexico.  I miss the color in the streets.  I’m blessed to have mountains surrounding me and beautiful Lake Chapala in front.  A pool in my yard.  Patience is a virtue.  I hope you are, and will remain, well.

 

Post note: If you read my last 2 blogs on the effects of the pandemic on Mexican artisans and would like more information on how to help, please go to the Facebook page of Los Amigos Del Artes Popular for some answers.  Also check out “Amazon Hand Made“, FONART, and Dean Miller’s Facebook page “Art & Artisans of México”.  Gracias mis amigos!