Why We Left an Anthology of American Women Expats

by Janet Blaser

  The estate sale couple was very enthusiastic to do our sale, especially when we told them we planned to sell our cars, a Jaguar XK8 convertible and a Volkswagen CC. They charged a 30% commission but agreed to sell the cars for 20%. They had a fairly big database of customers, and they knew who collected what, which seemed like a good strategy. The other big plus was that they promised to take away everything that didn’t sell. This was essential because as we got down to the wire, timing became critical. We were having the sale on Saturday and Sunday and the new owners of our house were taking possession at 5 p.m. on Monday.

  While having an estate sale was an expeditious solution for us, we definitely left some money on the table. We ended up selling the Jaguar to someone we knew, but they charged us the commission anyway because they had “marketed” it. The new owners of our house ended up buying a lot of our antiques at the sale, so we also ending up paying a commission on that. And one of the people working at the sale showed up and bought the twice-used Kitchenmaid mixer and Cuisinart for $70 before the sale even began.

  If I had it to do over again, this would be my advice: Ask all your friends over and give them first dibs on your stuff. If you feel okay about giving it away, do. If you want something for it, make them a fair offer. Don’t invite the estate sale people over until you’ve given your friends first crack at your things, because they’ll expect whatever you show them to be included in the sale.

  Unless you’ve really stayed on top of things, you likely have more paperwork than you realize. At this point, we’d been together for 18 years, and we had every canceled check, every pay stub, every tax return and every credit card bill we’d ever received. Sadly, you can’t just throw this stuff away because much of it has Social Security numbers and other personal information. Shredding turned out to be a part-time job. We had scores of boxes full of paperwork, and shredding was expensive. Our local high school had a fundraiser that let you shred a banker’s box of paper for $10. We had to make more than one trip.

  Our friends from Britain were visiting us in early April and we didn’t feel like we could list our house until they’d gone. We’d met with our realtor and she suggested we move all our knick-knacks out into the garage so the house would appear larger and uncluttered. This gave us a chance to start going through our things.

  We were hopeful that our house would sell quickly, and it did. We listed on Thursday, said we would look at offers on Sunday, and sold it to the highest bidder for $20,000 over asking that weekend, which was a big relief.

  Now the timing was really tight because we needed to make another trip to Puerto Vallarta to take down a load of stuff. Our lease began on May 1, so we flew down the first week of May with four gigantic suitcases that we unpacked and left in our rental. There was an expat Happy Hour at Langostino’s during our brief visit, and we were able to have dinner with Tricia and Mike Lyman, who have become dear friends. We stayed a couple of nights at the condo we’d rented and then flew back to finish up.

  I’d read that a Schwab checking account was a good solution for banking in Mexico because they had great customer service and would rebate any ATM fees. I used the proceeds from the sale of the house to open a brokerage and checking account there.

  The local Residence Inn took dogs, so we arranged to move there on the Friday night before the garage sale. We planned to stay there until we moved to a hotel at LAX the night before our flight to Puerto Vallarta. Some friends had moved into a local VRBO when they were in-between houses, which might have been a better option for us.

  The dogs needed health certificates for immigration. We paid $350 to get them from our local vet, but we weren’t sure they would work because they weren’t issued by the Department of Agriculture. We ended up buying a second set from a different vet that turned out to be the same thing.

  There were many friends we wanted to say goodbye to, so during this time, we were also juggling drinks and dinner with those near and dear to us. Because of the distances involved and the traffic, getting together in Southern California is never easy, and as much as we wanted to see people, it was another challenge, especially since we’d sold both our cars.

  Our final day before heading to LAX was a busy one. We found two more boxes of paperwork that needed to be shredded and ran into something we didn’t really know what to do with—the ashes from our past dogs who had died. Both of them had enjoyed the water, so we went to Westlake and said a few words as we scattered them into the lake. I’m reasonably certain this was illegal, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

  We had four suitcases, two of which were enormous, one dog kennel, one dog carrier and two carry-ons. We got all our stuff in the hotel van and got a porter to help us haul it to the place where we checked in the dogs. Alaska Airlines was great, but I was nervous about our Border Collie going below. And I was concerned that our little fellow was going to bark and get us thrown off the flight. He’s not a service animal, so we couldn’t take him out of his carrier. We gave him Rescue Remedy a few days before the flight, but it just seemed to agitate him, so we brought some treats and hoped for the best.

  He was a trooper, so that was one hurdle down. But I was still worried about getting through Customs. They’d searched our bags every time we’d gone through, and I wasn’t sure what would happen to the dogs while the agents inspected our belongings. I’d read all sorts of horror stories about people spending hours at Animal Control because they had the wrong paperwork or because the paperwork was okay, but the color of the ink was wrong. So I was anxious about that part of the journey.

  When we landed, we got through Customs pretty quickly. We’d packed our clothes in those vacuum bags, and that made it much faster for customs to look through our things.

  I took Riley to Animal Control and the gal who examined him couldn’t have been nicer. She was just finishing up with him when Molly brought Lily over in her kennel. Molly’s not very big, but she managed to hoist Lily in her kennel—which must have weighed about 75 pounds—off the baggage carousel by herself. We spent less than 30 minutes at Animal Control, gathered up the bags and dragged them to the exit where a driver from Superior Tours was waiting for us. Half an hour later, we were on the balcony of our condo.

  The Romantic Zone was a little crazy. The annual Drag Race—one of many fun Pride Week events—was underway, so there were lots of people in the streets. After a full day of travel, we didn’t think the dogs were up to that, but we thought a beach walk was in order. As we sat admiring the sunset, a young woman came to pat our dogs and ended up inviting us to a dinner party the next evening. Molly and the woman exchanged numbers, and the next night, we went to a lovely get-together in a beautiful flat with a gorgeous view of the church and its crown. That night, we met Gabby and Lee, a young couple who’d just moved down from North Carolina. They have also become good friends.

  Although we’d informed the leasing agent that our Border Collie weighed fifty pounds—we’d even attached a photo to our application—two weeks after moving in we were asked to leave. Turns out the condo bylaws didn’t allow pets that weighed more than 25 pounds. Since they were fining us every day we were there, we were scrambling to find a new home. Not that many rentals take large dogs, but we found a place in Amapas with amazing views and a huge infinity pool. It wasn’t perfect, but we were happy to end our search.

  We were introduced to someone who helps expats manage their health care and we bought health insurance for a fraction of what we’d paid in California. We got check-ups, opened a Mexican bank account and learned basic Spanish, which is an ongoing process.

  It’s hard to believe that was two years ago. Our life here has exceeded our expectations in almost every way. Some things are more challenging, many things less so. And over time, we’ve figured out how to simplify most tasks.

  Adjusting to retirement wasn’t as easy as I’d expected. I foundered a little with no clear purpose. And having
no possessions to define us was also disorienting—most people identify with their belongings more than they realize. But before long, I really enjoyed not being asked what I did for a living, and I liked that no one cared what brand of watch you wore. Most of all, I enjoyed walking everywhere, or hopping on a bus or into a taxi.

  With no real responsibilities or obligations, we’ve been free to reinvent ourselves and our lives. Tending to my mental, physical and spiritual health has been my top priority, and living here has opened up so many opportunities in those areas. We hike, we swim, we paddleboard, we take Pilates and painting classes, we walk on the beach, we volunteer, we read, we write, we cook, we paint, we sweat in the sauna, we spend time with friends. What we don’t do is sit in traffic, worry about how we’ll afford health insurance or dread Mondays.

  Both of us are healthier, thinner, fitter, happier and mellower than we’ve ever been. We love the people, the culture, the food, the music, the lifestyle, the birds, the flowers, the sunsets—you name it. Hardly a day goes by that one of us doesn’t say “pinch me” to the other.

  We know that we’re blessed and we feel extremely fortunate to be in the position we’re in. Our friends here come from every background and circumstance imaginable. They’re young, old, American, Canadian, European, gay, straight, married, single, retired, working or telecommuting. But one thing we all have in common is that our lives here are better than they were before.

  If you’ve thought about making this journey yourself, there are plenty of women you can reach out to who would love to help. Don’t worry too much about timing. When it’s right, things will all fall into place.

  As a copywriter and creative director, Virginia Saunders created advertising campaigns for some of the most sophisticated marketers in the world, including American Express, Royal Caribbean International, Westin Hotels and Resorts, Sony, and DirecTV. Currently based in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, when she’s not writing, she’s enjoying all this beautiful destination has to offer with her partner and their rescue dog Riley.

  2. “Welcome to Palapa-Ville”

  Wendy Wyatt

  Cozumel, Quintana Roo

  My mother practically begged me not to move to Mexico. “It’s so dangerous, why do you want to go there?” she said. “I’ll never see you again. How will you survive?!” Eventually, that changed to, “So, I can still just pick up the phone and call you? I can really fly there in a few hours?” My father and my sister were a little taken aback too, but then they were 100% on board after just a few minutes. “A free place for me to come visit in Mexico? On the Caribbean? You should do it!”

  My husband and I have been in Paamul, Mexico, for five weeks today, but we started making plans a few years ago. It all began as a dream to leave public service when I turned 57 and would be able to properly retire from my job as a registered dietitian working at the Veteran’s Healthcare Administration. We don’t have children, only our precious dogs, so that made planning a little easier but still not as easy as I’d thought. I knew we wanted to be on or near the beach, and I’d only visited the Mayan Riviera a few times, mostly at all-inclusive resorts, where I rarely left the property.

  On a Sunday afternoon in 2016, not long after the Pulse nightclub shooting in Orlando, Florida, where 49 people were killed and 53 wounded, and only a year after a white supremacist murdered nine African-American churchgoers in my own hometown, I Googled “real estate in Mexico.” I was tired of crying nightly while I watched the news or in the morning on my way to work. Selfish, senseless murders were taking a toll on me. Not to mention the fact that I was soon to start walking into a job every day and seeing a picture of the new commander in chief who I was deeply ashamed of.

  I narrowed down my search to Quintana Roo, which I’d visited before. Lots of nice places and lots of expensive places that I thought were out of reach, so I sorted by price. First on the list was a house with beach access for $35,000 U.S. dollars. Really?! The next was $40,000, then $42,000, $50,000, etc. I thought, this can’t be right, there must be an error. I started looking at the photos more closely and discovered one of the strangest things I’d ever seen. These were RVs with a house built around them. What? That was insane. I shared the website with my husband Heath and my dear friend and old roommate Nan. They were called “Mayan Mansions.” We had a good laugh about the name but I was really intrigued.

  Over the next year I kept going back to that website and dreaming. My husband was also dreaming and studying Spanish. He’s an artist and can work from anywhere. I wasn’t so lucky; there’s not a V.A. in Mexico. Our plan was still in place—retire at 57, which was nine years away at that point—and then buy a home in another (less expensive) country. Then Nan suggested a destination party for her sixtieth birthday which was a few months away. I jumped onboard and said, “Hell yeah, let’s go to Mexico!”

  In March of 2017, not long after the new administration had taken over and sidelined my government promotion for more than a month (things were not going my way, to say the least), we took off for Nan’s week-long birthday party with 15 of our friends. The party in Soloman Bay, Quintana Roo, turned into an opportunity for my husband and I to search for real estate. I finally talked him and Nan into driving over to the strange RV park neighborhood to check out the “Mayan Mansions.” After eating lunch at a restaurant and walking on the beautiful beach we snuck into the park.

  All three of us fell in love with the neighborhood, the crazy RV houses and the eclectic bunch of people who lived there: musicians, artists, contractors, photographers, healthcare workers, school teachers and more. They were from the U.S., Canada, Europe, Africa and other places with one thing in common: their love for a country other than the one they were born in. Most of them were snowbirds (people who only stay during the winter months) and that’s what we were thinking of doing at first: Buy a place, visit for a few weeks a year and in eight years we can retire and move full-time to Mexico. Problem was, I only got two weeks of vacation a year so we wouldn’t be using the house that often and the rules prevented us from renting to anyone when we weren’t there.

  After hours and hours and weeks and weeks of discussions about just taking off and moving and not waiting to retire, my husband finally said these magic words, “If we get down there and don’t like it, we just pack up and go back home.” It was really that simple!

  We bought our palapa in May of 2017. I retired six weeks before my 50th birthday and moved from a 2,500 square-foot house with all the bells and whistles, including a brand-new kitchen, a dock and a boat on a marsh in Charleston, South Carolina, to an RV with a palapa roof in Mexico. And if I decide I don’t like it, I can always go back home.

  But getting here was not easy. It took us about a year to settle everything, get vested in my job, sell our house, my car, furniture, etc. before we were able to move. During this time one of our Charleston neighbors suggested we start a VLOG about our journey. This was the perfect opportunity to give Heath a new project. (You can check it out on YouTube - search for “Mexicoing with Heath and Wendy.”) If you’re considering a move to Mexico, there’s lots of information, or if you just want to be entertained by a couple of yahoos who decided to leave their life and start anew, check it out.

  The first thing to know about being an American purchasing a home in Mexico is that there are no rules. You cannot own the land within 50 kilometers of any Mexican border (or the ocean) unless you’re Mexican, allegedly. You also supposedly cannot take out a loan from a Mexican bank and hold a mortgage on your home. We decided to sell everything in the U.S. except some precious items and basic necessities to finance our new endeavor and the move to Mexico. Sounds easy? Not so fast.

  To start with, we were buying our place in Mexico, steps from the Caribbean (so within 50 kilometers from a border), from a Canadian couple (snowbirds) who were currently in Canada. So how do you make it actually happen and how do you know you own it? Trust. Plain and simple. Not to say that
people don’t get swindled every day, because I know they do. Along with keeping good records of every transaction, we just had to believe that the couple we were buying from were honest people. Turns out they are. Then there’s the question of not owning the land; we bought a house but not the land it’s sitting on. Again, it boils down to trust.

  We made arrangements to meet the Canadians in Mexico to complete the transaction in fall of 2017. Simple. We meet and overlap our visits so we can finish the paperwork, pay a transfer fee and turn it into the office who owns the land. Well. This is Mexico, and we learned our first lesson about mañana. In our neighborhood we have a land lease that includes your basic utilities and 24-hour security. We paid for two years up front and have documentation from the owner of the land stating exactly that. We had also started paying for insurance on the house just after we bought it. The man who’s holding the insurance policy will be here tomorrow, the office said. OK, tomorrow /mañana it is.

  Mañana comes and goes, and again mañana comes and then the next mañana and then you start freaking out. Time is running out, we have a flight scheduled, I have to go back to work. Finally, another mañana comes and the transfer fee is paid and we have an insurance policy in hand. We’re the proud owners of a home in the U.S. and in Mexico.

  Our plan was to be in Mexico by my 50th birthday. We set a departure date for the first week of March so we could be there by mid-April. Now, to get out of the U.S. home and into our new retirement home in Mexico. We had to sell the house. I loved my house and most everything in it. How could I possibly part with all this stuff? I needed it all, or at least I thought I did.

  Look around your home. What’s precious to you? I started a list. Definitely my retro bar and ‘50s diner table from my kitchen, the sofa, my sleep-number mattress, Heath’s grandmother’s china and silver, letters I’d received over the years, my high school annuals, Heath’s paintings, all our photographs, Heath’s camera collection, my record collection, our CD collection, my books. Definitely taking our dogs, Gertie and Granny. Seems easy enough.