We’re in Business

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It was exactly 43 months ago that we found a house to rent and started to move our belongings and our lives south.  It was 28 months ago that we signed the final papers to sell our house and our business and became official residents of Mexico.  Since that time, I have continued to work at a distance as a Sport Executive for a Provincial Sport Governing Body in Canada.  I work at my desk most mornings and I don’t think most of my colleagues have really missed me much.  We still talk via email and text and phone and What’s App and Facebook Messenger and Skype almost every day.  I attend meetings or events in Canada 4 times a year. I write a LOT of reports and E Transfer money around to athletes and coaches and volunteers.  The rest of my time is spent volunteering at the local Children’s shelter here in Bucerias – teaching English, serving on the Steering Committee, helping raise funds, and hanging out with really cute – but badly scarred – kids.  Our life here is full and we are loving every bit of it.  In between the work and volunteering, we walk with our crazy puppy on the beach, eat chicken tacos and explore our town on our bright blue golf cart.

But lately Grant has been itching to get back to some kind of work.  He too loves to volunteer with the children, and he can often be found driving truckloads of them to the various surrounding villages or relentlessly pushing them on the swing in the patio.  He has spent the last year working tirelessly to raise funds to help a little deaf boy receive a cochlear implant.  He too has been busy.  But a few months ago, an idea settled in his mind and he has been nurturing this idea through the bureaucracy that is required to create anything in this country.

The idea came to us because every time we are spinning around town in our golf cart, someone stops to ask us where we got it.  Many tourists in our community do not have vehicles and love the idea of having a simple and safe way to get to the restaurants and shops and grocery stores here in Bucerias and in the neighboring community of Nuevo Vallarta.  The cobblestone streets are not easy to walk on and let’s face it – holidays are an excuse to be a bit lazy.

And that is where the idea for Banderas Bay Carts came from.  We had already set up a corporation a few years ago in anticipation of someday building houses here.  How hard could it be to get the company up and running?  It was just a matter of finding some carts; opening a bank account and a Paypal account and a credit card merchant account; creating a logo and color scheme and mascot and getting some business cards and posters and signs printed; creating a website and a Facebook page, and an Instagram page and a Twitter account;  finding an online booking system and GPS tracking systems, securing liability and accident and theft insurance, and hanging out our shingle.  You can imagine that every one of those things came with problems.  Every single one of them.   So much red tape.  Weird regulations.  Some of it still isn’t working great.  And while Grant has always been self-employed, we have never been in the retail business and definitely not in the tourism business.  Basically, we have no clue what we are doing.  But we are doing it!  It took a trip to Texas to buy 6 carts, 3 or 4 trips into Vallarta to government offices, a trip to Tepic just to get a letter stating we didn’t need to go to Tepic, many trips to our bank and to our accountant, 2 or 3 hours on hold with Paypal, and countless conversations with our Insurance broker.  And don’t even talk about all the YouTube videos Grant has watched to learn how to fix those darn things.

 

 

But my stubborn hubby didn’t give up and after 2 weeks in business, tonight I pulled up the calendar and I see that we are SOLD OUT!  Rafael just called to rent a cart for tomorrow and the Banderas Bay Carts booking guy (that’s Grant – I’m the Social Media 20190301_084400_resized.jpgguy) had to tell him we have no carts available.    We have bookings into September.  We have an Art Gallery in town acting as an agent and they also have more bookings than they can handle.  It’s still a tiny business.  It’s not exactly going to change the world.  But for Kelly whose husband can’t walk very well, it has meant they can get out of their condo and enjoy the next month of their vacation.  It means families can take their children on real Mexican adventures in a new culture, seeing more than the fake Mexico of an all-inclusive resort.  It’s a service that is welcome here and that is good for us.  It means we can earn enough to allow us to continue to give freely to the little ones we have grown to love so deeply.  It means we can finance the life that we know we have been called to.  And it means that we too can continue to jump in our own cart with our shaggy puppy and be part of the fabric of this town.

And of course, we have ideas to make Banderas Bay Carts better for our customers.  Scavenger hunt maps, and Self-Guided Food Tours and Graffiti Hunts and Art Rides.  Adventures.  Family Fun.  It might mean more long trips to Texas to buy more carts.  More bureaucracy.  More aggravation.  More possibility to fail.  But that is what keeps life fresh and keeps old people young.

So check out Banderas Bay Carts and give us a call next time you’re in town – we’ll take you for a spin and if you’re lucky, we’ll rent you the vehicle to take you to your next great adventure!

Christmas in Oaxaca

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For most of us, Christmas is unbreakably tied to long-standing,  comfort-creating traditions.  Activities, foods, songs, people, decorations, even smells – we find comfort in these familiar symbols of childhood, family, fun and belonging.  Like no other time of the year, change is unwelcome.  We cling to sentimental reminders of the times we felt the most loved.

20181126_153938When you move to another country – a really different country – traditions change and that can be hard.  Over these past 3 years, I have tried to hold loose those things that no longer work here and to cling to what is truly the most important.   I have been willing to exchange cold air for hot breezes, crispy snow for soft sand, hash brown casserole for chilaquiles, Christmas carols for tuba banda music.  This year we put up our tree and covered it with the family heirloom decorations we have been hanging since our children were babies.  But everything else was different and it was fantastic!

Oaxaca-map.jpgIn early Fall, our youngest daughter Brett suggested we travel somewhere different for Christmas this year.  She was planning a 5-month trip through Mexico, and although she could easily fly to our home, she really wanted to show us a place she had grown to love.  Her boyfriend would be there and our oldest would fly down from Canada.  Oaxaca.  Let’s all meet in Oaxaca this year.  Every part of our Christmas tradition would be different, but we would be together and that is the tradition that means the most.

So we rented a great Airbnb in Oaxaca and came together for a week to embrace Oaxacan Christmas traditions.  It was amazing, and I want to share just a few things we experienced there.

Posadas (Parades)

I have never seen so many parades.  Every night, the streets would explode with brass bands, dancers in traditional costumes, paper mache giants, and so many people.  Some were religious pilgrimages heading to the giant churches in the plazas, others were celebrating Oaxacan foods like radishes and chocolate.  Seriously, there is a parade for chocolate!

 

Noche de los Rabanos (Night of the Radishes)

Since 1897, every year on December 23rd, over 100 contestants gather in the plaza (Zocalo) to compete in a radish carving contest.  Many thousands of people gather to see the elaborate masterpieces – and when we found out the line to get close was 3-4 hours long, we decided to watch from a distance.   The atmosphere was exciting – and of course it started with a parade!

 

Check out more photos of this crazy competition here

Navidad (Christmas)

In Mexico, Christmas Eve is a much bigger family celebration than Christmas Day.  Again, we headed to the main plaza and watched 3 or 4 different parades go by.  There were at least 7 different Santas greeting children near the massive Christmas tree and 4 or 5 Baby Jesus’ going by in the parades.  We ate tamales oozing with mole and drank giant glasses of steaming hot chocolate.  It was chilly, and it was cute to watch the little Mexican children wearing wooly toques and long scarves.

 

Although they are more often associated with Easter, I purchased traditional cascarones, hollowed out eggs stuffed with confetti, and broke them on the heads of all my family members – and of course I got one too.    It is supposed to bring us good luck but I’m pretty sure I just gave Meigan a headache!

Although I had given up on the idea of a Turkey dinner, I was excited when my daughter texted on Christmas day to say she had seen a sign advertising turkey at one of the street chicken stalls.  She would bring it home for dinner.  Yay – turkey after all.  But when it arrived, it looked more like the leg of a tough old dinosaur, and the sweet macaroni salad was not exactly mashed potatoes.  But we were together, and we laughed at the sad Christmas feast!

Fireworks

Sparklers and fizzlers and cannons.  So many fireworks and noise makers.  Everywhere.  All day and all night.  If you can’t beat ‘em you may as well join ‘em.  We are now officially part of the problem!

Food

Traditional Oaxacan food is outstanding – some say the best in all of Mexico.  Over 200 kinds of mole (chile sauce), including my favorite, the thick slightly bitter black chocolate mole.  Tlayudas – crispy blue corn tortillas slathered in lard and bean paste and other vegetable and meat toppings and grilled over hot coals.  Tamales – pockets of chicken and tomatoes and peppers wrapped in corn dough, steamed in corn husks or banana leaves.  Quesillo – the mild white string cheese that is pulled off the round balls as needed.  Chapulines – grasshoppers that are eaten crispy like peanuts or are used in sauces or even in ice cream!  I can’t say I loved that – the taste was okay, but no one needs tiny grasshopper legs stuck in their teeth!  Giant plates of meat – thin beef and pork marinated in orange chiles, and small round links of spicy chorizo.  Big mugs of hot chocolate made with either milk or water to drink, or the local favorite mezcal, a smoky version of tequila.   All of it so affordable.  We ate many times a day, at the local markets or small restaurants, with no guilt because of the low price and the thousands of steps we knew would wear it all off.

 

Family Time

Most importantly, we just spent time together.  We played our traditional game of Upwords (I won…woop woop).  We went exploring throughout the grand historical city, shopping for small artisan gifts for each other.  Oaxaca is famous for its black pottery and for its colorfully painted Alebrijes, those imaginary animals that come alive in the movie Coco.  Intricately embroidered blouses and handmade jewelry.  We came home with a bit of it all.

 

We headed out of the city as well.  Mont Albán is a cluster of archaeological ruins dated to 500 BC.  We walked over 18,000 steps and climbed 78 stories as we explored these pyramid-like structures.  Another day we headed into the mountains to visit Hierve el Agua, an area that contains stunning rock formations (petrified waterfalls) and mineral springs.   We climbed to the base of the formation to see the stunning view up close, but of course what goes down…..

 

The thing with travel is that when we let go of what is familiar and embrace the experience of another person in another place, our own traditions become less rigid, more fluid.  We can build new ones.  We can see things we never knew existed and taste flavors that change our outlook.  Turkey flooded with gravy gives way to turkey bathed in black mole.  A slab of bread becomes a flat corn tortilla, my morning caffeine comes from chocolate instead of coffee.  But like every other Christmas tradition, it comes with my husband at my side and my daughters nearby.  We have grown, we have changed, we have risked….  But still we say, from our family to yours,  Merry Christmas and Feliz Navidad.  Happy New Year.  And most important of all,  Happy Birthday Baby Jesus!

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The Staycation Solution

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One of the strangest things about moving to your favorite vacation spot is that, well, now it’s your home.   Can it still qualify as your favorite vacation spot?  Because generally vacation is the place you go to get away from home.   Dictionary.com says vacation is “an act or instance of vacating”.   But why would I want to vacate my favorite vacation spot?  It is all a bit confusing and this week we found the perfect solution – the STAYCATION.  I know that usually means you stay home, close the blinds and turn off the phone but for us it meant packing an overnight bag and heading 10 minutes down the road to our favorite resort.  And I found out that it is still my favorite piece of beach to relax on, but now it’s even better because it’s without the crappy things that most vacationers experience:

  • Day 1 Sunburn pain – we already have a suntan, so we did not get that overeager tourist sheen that I saw on most of the other guests
  • Pushy salesmen – oh to watch the light go out of the eyes of the timeshare guys, the beach vendors, the tour operators when I said, “No we live here – not interested”. They still tried but with no conviction – they knew they had lost before they began.  And the braid lady.  She knew darn well that no one actually wears those braids in their real life.
  • The whole travel experience – getting a taxi to the airport, fighting the lines at the airport, the rushed stripping down and redressing in the security line, the lost passport, the crunched knees in the tiny seats, the lost luggage….. no, we packed in under 5 minutes, jumped in the convertible and were at the resort in 10 minutes. Already rested before we began relaxing.
  • The stuff you forgot or just can’t take – you know that giant straw hat that doesn’t fit in the suitcase but looks really stupid at the airport? Threw it in the back seat.  And the pillow.  We didn’t bring ours, but we could have – because fat pillows can ruin a vacation.  And the coffee maker.  And some snacks.  A couple of bottles of wine because you know how much they charge for that at a 5-star resort.
  • The expensive meals and fake shows. When you’re on vacation in a new spot you feel the need to experience the ‘culture’ that the hotel offers.  But I can eat real Mexican food and watch actual Mexican dancers in my town any day of the week.  Which means I felt no need to spend $59.99 on fake Mexican night.   We listened to the music on our balcony while sipping our own cheap wine and watched the tourists dance like fools with those balloon hats.   Oh no, they’re actually singing YMCA now.

Instead, I got to enjoy the parts of my favorite vacation spot that I really needed this weekend  – the alone time walking the beach, the lack of responsibilities, the absence of deadlines.  The nice housekeeping lady making my bed and cleaning my toilet.  The restaurant chef making my omelet.  There was no dust, no dogs, no chickens.  For just a couple of days I felt like I was on vacation, even though I could almost see my home as I walked.  I read lots, watched some cable TV since I don’t have that at home, enjoyed a bubble bath, laughed with my hubby.  I vacated my regular routine and to me that is a true vacation.

And the day after tomorrow I’m getting in a taxi to the airport.  I’m going to fight the lines and the security and pray that my luggage arrives.  I’m going to be a tourist and explore the city of Oaxaca with my family.  And who knows, maybe I’ll find my new favorite vacation spot!

A Letter to Amy

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Cousin Amy is coming to visit for a few days and I’m not happy about it.   Before you call the Family Counseling Services on me, the reason I’m not happy is because we’re not going to be here for most of her visit.  We’re heading to Oaxaca to meet our children for Christmas which means Amy is going to be exploring our neighborhood on her own.  While her children are away with their Dad, she’s looking forward to some “Amy time”.  She’s a musician and I’m hoping she finds inspiration here.  And peace.  I hope she finds Christmas peace.

So I’ve been thinking about what Amy needs to know on her first visit to our town.  She’s going to be house sitting and puppy sitting and both of those things have secrets.

I thought maybe you’d want to read the list too – it will give you insight into our crazy life here.

The first – and maybe most important – thing you need to know is DON’T TALK TO THE TIMESHARE SALESMEN AT THE AIRPORT.  Oh that sounds easy enough, but they’re tricky.  They act helpful.  They say they will find you a ride to wherever you’re going.  But if you ignore this first rule, you will find yourself vacationing in this area for the next 20 years.  Which is not a bad thing…. But I doubt if it’s what you want so just keep walking until you are outside.  Then you can get a taxi – the guys outside with the taxi signs are legit and they will get you to our house quickly and safely.

OUR HOUSE

20181126_153904Our house is not grand but it’s comfortable.  You can pick whichever guest room you want – you can either have a garden view or a closet.  Not both.   Of course, the closet won’t have much room for your stuff – sometimes we have foster children from the local children’s shelter staying with us, so the closet is full of little shoes and backpacks and cute dresses.  Which reminds me – if you walk around your room barefoot there is a very good chance you will be experience the pain of stepping on a Barbie shoe.  It’s like the Lego thing but it hurts more because those Barbies only wear stilettos.  Sorry.  Also, those little hair elastics are everywhere.  If you glance under the bed (please don’t) you will find enough hair elastics (called ligas here) to hook a rug big enough for Buckingham Palace.

Be careful with the doors and locks and keys.  If you close the door to the garden while in it, you’ll be stuck out there until you are rescued.  (See my Story Outsmarted by a Cucaracha).  The front door and the garage door automatically lock – keep your keys with you always!

I will be leaving the windows open to keep the house from getting stuffy, but that means there will be dust from the dirt roads.  So. Much. Dust.  Just blow it off – you don’t have asthma right?  It is getting cooler at night so having the window open keeps the house cool.  It also will keep you awake as you listen to every chicken and dog congregate at around midnight for their all-nighters.   Which brings me to the neighborhood.

OUR NEIGHBORHOOD

It’s Christmas season, so you will hear extremely loud banda music, karaoke, DJs, laughter.  It’s a fun time – just go with it.   And the cannons.  Don’t panic when you hear what sounds like loud gunshots.  It’s probably not.  It’s probably the cannons that are kind of related to religious celebrations and kind of related to bratty kids in the neighborhood.  You will jump out of your skin every time, especially the ones at 5:30 am, but El Chapo is not outside.  You are safe.

OFogoncitosur neighborhood has everything you need for a few days.  Next door is the little tienda where you can buy all of the staples – bread, milk, coke and chips.  And tortillas.  Around the corner to the left is the fruit and veggie store, the fish store (with delicious ceviche to go), the taco shop (open in the evening – get 2 tacos de pollo, take one of the tortillas off the bottom so you now have 3 tacos, cover it all with veggies and beans and sauces from the topping bar – boom, 26 pesos, about $1.50), and the other taco shop (open at noon for fish and shrimp tacos and at night for tacos pastor, the meat on the spinning thingy – also less than $5).  There’s the chicken lady selling whole flattened grilled chickens, the Taco de Cabeza stand that sells tacos made of all things ‘head’, the guy with the rolling cart of delicious drinks made of pineapple and lemon and ginger and chia.  If you need a pinata or a giant bag of candy, there’s a shop for that.  Nails, hair, clothing, pirated DVDs – new or used – it’s all there.

 

 

20181210_091409If you walk another block and dare to cross the crazy highway (if it doesn’t work out, there’s a brand-new hospital right there on the corner) there’s another whole world of restaurants and galleries and shops more geared to the gringo tourists and year-round residents.  You can walk for days looking at cool buildings and amazing flowers and stop to sample every kind of food – there’s Italian, and Sushi, and Thai and Vegan and the best hamburgers I’ve ever tasted and lots of Mexican.  After all that, if you’re still hungry before nodding off at night, just listen for the blaring song driving by around 10:30 – that’s the donut lady with a van full of every kind of donut, muffin, croissant and sweet bread you might need.  Who can’t love a place that does donut drive-bys every night!

(Don’t worry, I’ll leave a detailed map to share our favorite restaurants and other must-sees.)

CRITTERS

The good news is we haven’t seen a cucaracha (cockroach) in a long time and I’m pretty sure the mouse is dead.  We do have a small bright green lizard that lives in the garage, but he doesn’t show himself very often and as far as I know he’s never come in the house.  From time to time large lizards sun themselves on our neighbor’s roof in the backyard but they’re shy and run when I open the door.   There is one pretty cool spider in the palm tree – his web is such a work of art I hate to disturb him.  And some small wasps are busy at work creating a home amongst the leaves of that same palm, but they are not like Canadian wasps – they aren’t interested in your Coke and BBQ and keep to themselves.   You will hear chirps in the house at night – those are the many tiny geckos that share our home – they are cute with giant toes that run up and down our walls with lightning speed.  If you eat your breakfast i20181128_121154n our garden, you’ll be joined by some tiny colibris (hummingbirds).  Really the only critter you have to worry about is Nacho the puppy.  He will keep you company, love you to death, and drive you crazy.  DO NOT leave any shoe at his height – or really any item that you value in any way.  Paper, pens, clothing, pencils, jewelry – he’ll take and destroy it all.  If you find yourself missing underwear, check behind the palm tree in the garden.

THE PEOPLE

20180211_135840_resizedWhatever you do while you’re here, enjoy the people you will pass on the streets and meet along your way.  The Mexican people seem shy at first, but they are watching for a smile, for you to say “Hola, Buenos dias” and then they light up.  Everyone is friendly, but they usually wait for you to say hi first  (except for those blasted Time Share guys).   The children, so very many children, all eager for some love, some attention from the gringos.   Your red hair will make you the most popular tourist on the block.   My neighbors are poor, but they are kind.  Even while having so little, they will have family over for fiestas during Christmas week.  They may set up tables in the street, chickens wandering through, fireworks exploding.  It will be fun.

And that Christmas peace I am praying for you?  Walk the beach until you find it.  For these few days, the beach can be your safe place – a soft sandy path alongside powerful ocean waves, hugged by the blue layers of surrounding mountain peaks.   Maybe you’ll see a dolphin or a whale or a tiny hatchling turtle racing for his escape in the water.  A star fish resting.  Keep walking.  Find a new song.  Rejoice in your healing.  Embrace Amy.    And have a blessed Christmas in our paradise!

 

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Giving, Kindness & Acceptance

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Recently I was invited to join a group called South of the Border Bloggers (SOTB), a group of writers who have all had experiences like mine living in Mexico and other countries south of the US border.  I have never considered myself a blogger or a writer, but I like the idea of connecting with others who have their own crazy stories to tell and of sharing ideas and thoughts and maybe even support.   Each month the group picks one topic to write about and this month, in honor of American (and Canadian?) Thanksgiving they chose the title Giving, Kindness and Acceptance.

Although I don’t have American or Canadian cable TV, I do have Facebook and Twitter and Instagram.  I hear what is happening in the world.   I know that giving and kindness and acceptance are having a difficult time right now.  Definitions are shifting.  Opinions about who deserves acceptance and who needs to give it are being debated by politicians and churches.  Kindness is being lost in polls and demonstrations and hashtags.   They say that the solution to gun violence is not more kindness but more guns and the streams of broken people seeking shelter and safety are not brothers we should give to but invaders coming to take from us.  They…. We…. are building walls to separate us rather than bridges to connect us.   No, I’m not picking on any one political party – it’s just all of us.  We all do it.

IMG_20160704_174431_edit_editI know I do it.  One of the things I have struggled with here is looking into the bitter eyes of the children I work with, and not being filled with anger and judgement towards their parents and caregivers.  Oh, how I want to judge.  Drug addiction, prostitution, poverty, alcoholism, violence, abandonment.  So many mistakes that have landed on the shoulders and hearts of these children.  It’s not hard to justify my stinkin’ judgey attitude.

 

This month as I considered this topic and as I considered Thanksgiving, I was reminded that “but for the grace of God go I”.  I know how much I have to be thankful for.  In fact, every day in 2018 I have been writing in my Lovely List – 20181113_162547_resized.jpgI have over 950 items now.  The hummingbird in the garden today, the laughter with my husband, the help of a friend, the crazy antics of a puppy, a text from a daughter, a really good taco …. So many things to be thankful for.  Family and faith and home and my daily bread.  But I also recognize that I did nothing to deserve any of it.   Where I was born, who I was born to, the education I was given, the security I have always had and always taken for granted…. I did not earn any of it and do not deserve it.  Not more than the sweet boy who lives in a one room house in the slums made of tarps, or the 5-year-old who was given an STD by a relative or the young daughter raped by her father who she trusted.

So what does acceptance look like in this place?  I don’t think it means that we accept injustice.  We must keep fighting that.  But I am trying to accept that these parents are doing the very best they can.  I accept that they were also broken as children and don’t know how to give love or guidance because they’ve never seen it.  I’m trying to believe that it is in the acceptance of the broken, that we can finally get to the giving of the kindness.

So Happy Thanksgiving to my friends North of the Border!  Enjoy the turkey and the trimmings and the love of your family.  Don’t feel a bit guilty – you have been given a great gift.  But please, take a moment to give away some kindness, to offer love and acceptance to someone who might not seem to deserve it.    Put the debates on hold and the Facebook rants on silent and the judgements in the trash can – and just go #love someone!

“Freely you have received; freely give”  Matthew 10:8

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45139569_10215621288638874_8553295776481017856_nCheck out some other thoughts on this subject by the SOTB

 

 

A Major Purchase & More Bureaucracy

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Finally! We made a major purchase, licensed and registered it with the State of Nayarit and it WORKED almost perfectly.
You’ll remember that in late July we drove our truck and trailer back to Canada to sell. It wasn’t pretty – the accident, the near arrest, the breakdowns, the late arrival. (Maybe our Worst Trip Yet!)  It was ugly, but it was done and since then we have been keeping our eyes open for a replacement truck. A couple of weeks ago we got serious about the search. Grant has a new business idea brewing (stay posted!) and he will need a truck to make it happen. We had expected to buy a vehicle in Guadalajara, but after a LOT of online research, we decided to check what was available locally. Big club cab trucks aren’t all that common here, so it didn’t take us long to check out every used lot in the Bay and to settle on two options. A sleek, shiny black truck and an older bright red one – both Dodge, both heavy enough to haul a lot, and both roomy enough to transport a crowd of little Mexican children. Both in good shape. The red one was considerably cheaper but also considerably older. We test drove them both, had our mechanic give them the once over and chose ….. (insert drum roll) … the black one!


20181101_123714_resizedThe main hurdle to purchasing anything major here in Mexico is figuring out how to pay for it. The dealer only wanted cash – no cheques, no bank wires, no drafts, no credit cards. Just a lot of cash. We started raiding ATMs and then realized since I would be in Canada for a few days for family business, I would be able to get most of the pesos we needed from our bank there. I called ahead to order the rather larger number of pesos and when I arrived, I was thrilled to be told they had just received a shipment of mostly $1000 and $500 bills. My stack of bills would be manageable. Oh, the irony of going all the way to Canada to find pesos to purchase a truck in Mexico.

The dealer had promised to repaint the truck hood which had peeled a bit under the grueling summer sun and on Thursday we went to pick it up and get the legalities of registration taken care of. We expected the worst. When dealing with bureaucracy we always expect the worst. We’re rarely disappointed. Remember our story of buying my little VW?  (Shopping for Wheels) Or registering the trailer? (One Full Year to Get Some Plates)  It never goes smoothly, and we didn’t expect it to this time either.

First, we had to get it inspected and the serial number verified – last time that cost me a ladder! But that went smoothly, and we were only there for about 1 ½ hours waiting in line. The next stop was the registration office in the town of Mezcales. It was around noon and they are open until 2:00 so we were confident we could get this done. We knew the next day all government offices would be closed to recognize Mexico’s beloved Day of the Dead – a day to remember and celebrate those loved ones that have passed on – but we still had 2 hours and we really wanted to get those plate before the weekend. But of course, no. They were already closed. “Why are you closed today?” “Well tomorrow is a holiday, so we closed today at 11.” “But the holiday is tomorrow.” “Yes, so we are closed today.”
Well okay. I guess Monday will work. Today we headed back to the office knowing there would be a big lineup after the two-day closure. We arrived at 8:30 and at 9:00 when the doors opened, we were at the front of an already long line. We had brought multiple copies of everything – we’ve been through this drill before – but after the shuffling, stapling, reshuffling, restapling we were sent across the street for more copies. 3 copies of this, 2 copies of the rest. Fine. More copies, more waiting in line, more shuffling, more stapling, many of the copies handed back to us as unnecessary (but you just told me to get them???) and finally, we were handed our new license plates. We also realized that we were supposed to have renewed our registration on Azulita the Volkswagone every year and we hadn’t done that since 2016, so we took care of that too. Oops.

20180915_091319_resizedSo, Grant is back on the road. We are again a two-vehicle family. Well three if you count our favorite, the little blue golf cart which really has become our main mode of transportation over the rubble and through the potholes. Our lifestyle is so very different here that I know we could get by with just 1 set of wheels, but I am not quite ready to let go of my own sense of independence and identity. My freedom. I really have absolutely nowhere to go that I can’t walk to or bounce to on the golf cart, but I’ve owned a car since I was 16. My powder blue convertible is just one more of those material things that I continue to cling to as some kind of weird crutch to prove that life is normal. That I am okay when so much is uncertain. That I can go….somewhere….  I know that’s not where my comfort lies, but hey I’m just being real here!  Besides, who doesn’t want to see a couple of old people and a fluffy white poodle heading to the beach with the roof down and the music blaring. It’s all part of the dream and we’re loving living it!

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Are We Happy?

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Recently one of my friends emailed me to question whether we are really happy here.  Whether we are at peace.   Which made me realize that a LOT of my blog posts are about the crazy and difficult things that happen to us here.  Let’s face it – drama makes for better blog reading.

But as the 3-year anniversary of our move passed in September, I thought this would be a good time to consider the question.  Are we happy?  And if we are, why?  What are the things we love about living here.  Just thinking about the question made me smile.  YES!  We are happy.  I am happy.  It is a bit hard to put into words what makes something ‘right’ or ‘good’ but I can think of many tangible things that I love about our life here:

  • The weather. I can’t lie.  The weather had a lot to do with why we moved and that has not changed.  Yes, it is super hot right now, but I still love the perpetual summer and although autumn is no longer about pumpkins and gourds and red and yellow leaves, there are changes in the flowers that bloom and the foliage that grows.  The bouganvilias are back and the pretty purple vines are now everywhere.  Soon the nights will cool and our air conditioner remote control will be put away in the nightstand for a few months.
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    Fish Taco heaven!

    The food.  Who doesn’t love a good taco?  I am surrounded by Mexican food – taquerias and loncherias – not to mention donut trucks that show up at my door and a French Fry cart that recently appeared right across the street from my house.  I almost never tire of Mexican food, but when I do there is also a great Sushi place around the corner, the best burgers ever across the highway and a delicious pasta/pizza place a couple blocks away.  All of it for less than $10 a meal and most of it less than $5.   Unfortunately, that means I’ve gained some weight, so that brings me to the next thing….

 

  • The beach.  Any time I want to I can walk or run on miles and miles of soft sand beach or jump in the ocean which right now is as warm as a bathtub.  Gorgeous sunrises, beautiful sunsets, majestic lighting storms – it is easy to get my 10,000 steps in if I want to.  Those are the key words and I admit I have been slacking lately – time to get back on it before my Fitbit buddy Cheryl comes down to kick my butt as she has threatened.

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  • The people.  There is something infectious about the passion of the Mexican people.  Whatever they do is accompanied by loud music, loud laughter, loud children, loud dogs.  Even the barrios most touched by poverty have streets blocked off and pinatas hanging from trees when birthdays roll around.  Today we drove around town on our golf cart and we headed into the poorest communities in our town.  Groups of men sat on corners sipping from giant bottles of beer, but they all waved at us and yelled greetings as we went by.  I have no idea why I like that, but I do.  I love these people and I love being part of the rhythm of life here.
  • The meaningful work we do. The most important part of our life here is the work we do at Manos de Amor, the local Children’s Shelter.  We have seen the worst of the worst there – a 10-year-old repeatedly raped by her father, a 5-year-old with an STD, a young preteen whose mom recently went to jail for killing her husband, leaving the girl without mother or father or home.  Pregnancy, and drugs and prostitution and poverty.  I hate it all.  But we love these children and we believe that our presence in their lives matters – teaching them English, inviting them to stay in our home when they have nowhere to go, driving them to visit family on weekends, playing silly games and singing and dancing. Loving on them.  It all means something that has become more valuable to us than careers, salaries and possessions.

I guess the bottom line is that we have changed and what matters to us has changed.  We have less security but more peace.  Less comfort but more joy.  Less success but more compassion.  I could make a long list of the things that are harder here, but you can read the rest of my blog to get all those stories.  Tonight, we rest in the assurance that we are where we are meant to be, and we are indeed happy!

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So dear family and friends, please stop worrying and go book your winter vacation flight – we’ll be waiting for you curbside in the golf cart with a taco in hand.

 

 

Sisters in School

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It has been a very long time coming, but finally all 3 of our weekend daughters are in school and we couldn’t be happier.   Here in Mexico children must have birth certificates before they can enroll in school, and the two youngest in this family had never been registered, never been counted, never really existed as people with the right to be educated and employed.  After more than a year of knocking on the closed doors of doctors, lawyers and other bureaucrats, Britany and Pricila finally possess the papers they need to open locked classroom doors.

During the week these girls live at Manos de Amor, Casa Hogar and on weekends they hang out with us – at the pool or at the beach, eating chorizo quesadillas and tacos.  Little Pricila has a medical issue that keeps her from living at Casa Hogar right now, so she is temporarily living with us all week.  It’s been a long time since I took a little one to her first day of school, but I was pretty excited to do so this week.  So was she!  I definitely need some practice on how to create pretty braids and keep white uniform shirts clean,  and what the heck do I do with Spanish homework?  But I’ll learn.  More importantly, finally Pricila has her own opportunity to learn… to read and to write and to dream of a future where she can grow up to be whatever she wants to be.

 

 

Maybe our Worst Trip Yet!

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It wouldn’t be the first time a road trip between Mexico and Canada clobbered us with challenges and frustrations, but our recent trip last week might top them all.

We knew we would need to take our truck and trailer back to Canada within the next 2 years – our truck was not the correct type or year to be imported – and since Grant’s family had planned a reunion for the August long weekend, we decided that would be a perfect time to drive north. Our intention was to leave Wednesday or Thursday at the latest, drive 2 or 3 days on smooth Mexican toll roads, eat our way through American restaurants, spend a couple of days in my Canadian hometown with my family and some friends and then hop on a plane to Alberta for the reunion on Friday. Somewhere in there we would take our trailer and our truck to a consignment lot and eventually jump on a plane back home. It was a good plan. It should have worked. But…..

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The first snag was that we really wanted to have the trailer painted a spiffy black, so it would look a lot younger than its actual years. Of course, when the painter guy said it would take 2 days, he actually meant 4 days, which meant we didn’t get away until Saturday morning. The driving days would need to be longer, the restaurants more fast food than sit down, but we could still make it. Until Guadalajara. Only 4 hours from home we hit our biggest, and scariest, challenge to date.

Guadalajara is a REALLY BIG CITY and we knew it was going to be tricky driving a truck pulling a 30-foot trailer through there. But the highway goes straight through the city. It really is just put the car in Drive and go straight. Unfortunately, Mexican motorcycle drivers seldom just go straight and, on this Saturday, a young man on a motorbike decided it would be faster if he could just weave in and out between vehicles, making the 2 lanes into 3. What he didn’t calculate well was the width of our dually truck and that trailer. As he tried to drive between us and the car beside us, he scraped against the side of the truck, bounced off the trailer and landed under the tires of a Jeep behind us. We didn’t see this happening, but we did hear the squeal of brakes and tires and when Grant looked in the mirror he saw the Jeep run over the young man. We still didn’t realize we had been involved in this accident until someone beside us yelled for us to pull over.

And that’s when we realized this was serious. It looked like the young man was okay, but we still didn’t have a clue what had happened and no one around us was speaking any English. Immediately we pulled out our insurance policy and called an agent – please come, we’ve been in an accident. It didn’t take long until our agent was there as well as the agent of the other driver. Still, no English. So of course, we did what we always do when we can’t speak the language – we called our friend Francisco. 35 times we called Francisco over the next 8 hours as we sorted this all out at the side of the road.

In Mexico, accidents are basically about the insurance settlement – you don’t leave the scene until the insurance has been settled. For the next 2 hours the police measured scratches and took photos and wrote statements while the insurance agents negotiated. Finally, our agent told us that they had reached a settlement – everyone would pay their own damages and that would be the end of this. Huge sigh of relief. Maybe this would be okay. The motorcycle guy obviously had injured his legs and feet, but basically seemed okay.

And then his dad arrived and decided that he was most definitely NOT taking that settlement, and in fact was deserving of receiving money for his injuries. Now I get that Dad was worried for his son, but the police were very adamant that this accident was the young man’s fault and he did not deserve any cash, but Dad was not having it. Either give us money, or we’re going to court.

At that point our agent told us that the deal had fallen apart, we would be going to court on Monday, which meant our vehicles would be impounded tonight. And they could keep them impounded for up to 2 months if they needed further investigation. Oh my gosh. 4 hours into the trip and our vehicles were being seized.

The negotiating continued. The police and the insurance guys kept pushing the father to accept the deal they were offering. If we indeed went to court on Monday, he would probably lose and then he would be responsible to pay all the damages on all the vehicles. But Dad stayed firm and then he made the call that escalated this all to the next level – he called an ambulance for his son. Now this young guy had been sitting there for 3 hours and definitely should have gone to a hospital, but calling an ambulance increased the severity of the situation – and that is when we got the call from Francisco who was clearly upset. The agent had called him to tell him that Grant – as well as the driver of the jeep and the motorcyclist – would be going to jail for 48 hours. Until court on Monday. Grant was going to freaking Mexican jail. I stood there shocked. 48 hours? In jail in Guadalajara? Where no one spoke English? This was so not good. The police lined the other driver up with Grant and 2 women officers came with the necessary paperwork to process the arrests. By this time our friends in Bucerias were frantically calling everyone they could think of who might be able to help. Shortly thereafter, an acquaintance of Francisco and Veronica arrived to see if he could help. He didn’t speak English either, so we will never really know what went on, but he started negotiating with everyone, pushing them to let us go, trying to find a way to make a deal. By this time 5 or 6 hours had gone by and just when we thought the day couldn’t get worse it started to rain. POURING with giant hail stones. They let us jump in our truck and then the streets flooded. Water to the top of the police car’s tires. Just so dark and dismal as we sat waiting for them to take Grant to jail. We hadn’t eaten since 7 am so we were starving. Our agent had gone to buy us a bottle of water, but we had nothing else.

The police kept going back and forth to the hospital and finally things shifted for us. The police had continued to pressure the boy and his family to make a settlement. They continued to resist until the police said “Enough, this accident is your fault and you’re going to jail. You’ll be paying all the damages as well as paying fines for dangerous driving”. Right there they arrested him and took him from the hospital to the jail. They were still planning to come for Grant and the Jeep driver, but after his arrest, motorcycle dude’s family left him alone – they had had enough of this mess – and he agreed to take a settlement. To pay for his own damages and not go to court. Which meant we would be free to go. It was another hour or two before all the papers were drawn up. We had to agree to:

  • not press charges
  • not ask for damages
  • pay the police officers 500 pesos for all their hard work (negotiated down from the 1000 they asked for at first).

By this time, it was after midnight. It was still raining, and we had to find a hotel. We were exhausted, hungry, scared and just really grouchy. But we were okay, Grant was not in jail and the hotel we found agreed to take puppy.

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Of course, this wasn’t the end of our troubles. Not even close. The next morning, we came out of the hotel and saw we had a flat tire. After changing it, we left the hotel, eager to get out of this city. We had only been on the highway for 2 or 3 minutes when a siren pulled us over. You have got to be kidding me. I don’t know if we were flagged in the system or if it was a coincidence but again we were on the side of the road trying to talk to policemen who did not speak English and did not look happy. We finally understood that we were not to drive on this highway with this vehicle – we could only drive on the side road, the lateral. Fine, we will do that. And we would have to pay a fine. On Monday. 1200 pesos. Oh my gosh. I do not want to stay here another day. Can we pay you here somehow? Well if you give us 2400 pesos we can pay your ticket for you on Monday. So another 2400 pesos down the drain to the Mexican ‘legal’ system. But we were free to get out of town.

Over the next few days we had challenge after challenge. 5 hours inching along in a 106 degree lineup to cross the border into the US. Vehicle problems. Tires wearing. 5th gear shot. Some kind of broken belt. Which pointed to some other part that was needing to be replaced. The realization that it was now August and Grant’s driver’s license had expired in July and he couldn’t renew online because it was time for a new picture. Every day more hours behind schedule.

We had already told our family we would not make the reunion by Friday. But Saturday. We would be there Saturday. Our oldest daughter was driving 2 days from Vancouver, so we were not about to give up. But each day it seemed less likely. Our flight was booked for 5:00 on Saturday morning and Friday at noon we were still in South Dakota. Which meant we had to drive through South Dakota, North Dakota and Saskatchewan. We had to drop the trailer at a consignment lot 40 miles north of Regina. We had to drop the truck at our mechanic’s shop. Which we did. At 2:30 am. One hour before having to head to the airport. One hour to spare. After 1 week on the road with accidents and breakdowns and border delays and police encounters, we had arrived with 1 hour to spare.

I know you’re asking why we keep doing stuff like this. Why do we keep driving back and forth hauling vehicles full of weird stuff, encountering weird people and experiencing weird situations? I guess because we’re weird people who are in the middle of doing something pretty extraordinary. Trying to build an unusual life in the best way we know how. Yes, we could have stayed in Canada until all our ducks were in a better row, until our language was better and our bank account bigger. But then we would have missed hugging little Perla today, would not have little girls who need a safe home living with us on weekends, and would not have realized that the things that are most worthwhile in life are always the most difficult.

“I want to be in the arena. I want to be brave with my life. And when we make the choice to dare greatly, we sign up to get our asses kicked. We can choose courage or we can choose comfort, but we can’t have both. Not at the same time.” – Rising Strong by Brené Brown.

In the end, we had a fun weekend with family from Canada and the US and Sweden. We celebrated being Swansons. We hugged our daughter and played fetch with our puppy and ate soup with Uncle Paul and Aunt Rita and celebrated cousin Albin’s new log home. We told our stories and laughed about the whole crazy adventure. And then we got on a plane and came home – because this is now home and it is indeed all worth it!

Birthdays, Birthdays and Birthdays

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Last week was a week FULL of birthday fiestas – from Cristofer celebrating his very first birthday to Grant enjoying his 60th.    And Mareli who is now 11 but having her very first party with friends and gifts.

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A selfie of me smuggling a pinata on a golf cart – lots of laughing neighbors!

First was Grant’s birthday.  I bought a Minion piñata and a cake and smuggled it into the orphanage on Friday before classes.  The children spent the morning making cards and letters.  Lucio spent all morning using a YouTube tutorial to make a box that exploded confetti when Grant opened it.   We had a YWAM team visiting that day, so they joined in with the singing and dancing and piñata smashing.  The children absolutely loved the surprise and at this age, our celebrations are more for these little ones than for ourselves. That night we took our weekend girls and headed to a pretty restaurant on the canal for a birthday dinner of flaming fajitas.   It was a good day and I know Grant felt the love many times over!

The very next day was Mareli’s birthday.   Although her mom had recently moved to Bucerias, we hadn’t heard from her and we knew we needed to make sure Mareli felt loved and special on this day when her family hadn’t showed up.  Our good friends Francisco and Anita offered us their home and pool for the afternoon.  We bought another piñata – a unicorn this time – another cake, chicken and ceviche tostados and we invited some Manos de Amor friends to come and celebrate Mareli’s day.  She knew we were going swimming together, but the rest was a surprise.  I loved the look on her face when the doorbell rang and 5 of her friends walked in as well as her precious Tia Laura, a caregiver from the orphanage.  Again, face planting in the cake, piñata breaking, and lots of food and drink.  She was thrilled with the MP3 player we bought her to listen to her Soy Luna music.  A super fun day for kids and us adults too.

 

And then one more.  This week was the first birthday for 1-year old Cristofer.   Last year Cristofer was born to his young mom – the second child to the then 16-year-old.   If you remember from my blog story last year, 2 or 3 weeks after Cristofer was born, he still didn’t have a name.  His mom just couldn’t decide, so she asked for my help and I was honored to name this little guy Cristofer Alejandro.  I visit Cristofer every Friday and Sunday  – along with his brother Kevin, and cousin Lupita and lots of aunties and uncles and his grandma.  His 6 year old uncle comes with me to Manos de Amor each week.  It is a full house and although there is not a lot of material stuff in the one room home, there is definitely love and family.

 

Happy Birthday Cristofer and Mareli and Grant!  I never could have guessed that when Grant turned 60, this would be the life we would be living.  It’s a weird combo of missionary social work retirement and we are loving every minute of it!  So Feliz Cumpleanos mi esposo – te quiero!

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