Why We Left an Anthology of American Women Expats

by Janet Blaser

  Eventually he told me he was a professional poker player and I was hooked. My father had been a high roller in Las Vegas back in the day. As a child I’d spent many holidays in Vegas and knew how to play all the casino games. I’d watched Las Vegas grow and it had been a go-to place for many long weekends throughout my life.

  Eric was going on a road trip to Las Vegas to play poker for a week and asked me if I wanted to go too. He had a small knapsack and I had my entire car packed with anything I could possibly need. It was an awesome trip. I remembered how much fun road trips were! I was post chemo/pre-surgery with no hair on my head and a giant tumor on my arm, mentally preparing myself for a surgery that could go wrong. In Las Vegas! On the road we talked about our lives, politics, goals and poker. We went to every good Spanish and Mexican restaurant in Las Vegas that he knew so he could show off his Spanish language skills and point out my utter lack of the language. Eric suggested I consider taking my travels by car! Light bulb moment! Two years later I left for Mexico on a road trip to … I didn’t really know where, in a packed SUV.

  He did his seminar during the day and taught me how to play poker in the evenings. I swam and laid in the sun in the daytime and taught him to shoot craps and play blackjack at night. We stayed away an extra two days, something I could do because I had packed my car with anything and everything I could possibly have needed.

  Justine and I had three dogs and a cat. In addition to leaving her I’d be leaving them. So I told everyone I was going to take this road trip with one of my little dogs. I chose the blind, deaf one. I’d adopted this old dog so my mother could have a dog during her last year of life. Angel is not affectionate, is clearly introverted and doesn’t engage with other dogs or active people. She wouldn’t be missed by the other dogs. She has few needs but is really curious and very brave. I aspire to be like her. She’s also very pretty and I thought she’d be a good bridge to meeting people. (I was right, she’s been super-popular.) We’d drive to Cozumel. On the way I’d see the Gulf Coast of Mexico, ex-employees who’d gone back home to the Yucatán, visit Mayan ruins, swim in cenotes and learn to scuba dive. I told everyone it would be a three-month road trip.

  And then Trump was elected. So I left. I knew I wouldn’t drive back. But better to not share that part. Let friends get used to my not being there. Let them stop worrying. I wasn’t worried. I had little fear and a lot of courage. This lack of fear was not a good thing when I was young. But past middle-age it’s awesome. I recommend it highly.

  I did have to trade in my car for an SUV so I’d have enough room for everything I needed ... I mean wanted. I had a tent, many pillows, blankets and towels, my poker chip set, playing cards and three sets of dominos. I brought clothes for the beach, mountains, cities and farms. I had every medication, vitamin and supplement a human could ever want. And a tool box, zip ties, spray bottle of bleach and ropes (suggested by Justine). Apparently she thought I was going to become a serial killer! I outfitted the SUV with a single futon for me and three dog beds for Angel to choose from in case we needed to sleep in the truck. It was decorated with boas and beads and a Mardi Gras mask I’d picked up in New Orleans. I was ready.

  And then I went. With very little Spanish. One of my old employees gave me some specific lessons. He wanted me to be prepared if I was stopped by police and asked for money. So he taught me to say, “Podria su pinche madre.” Loosely translated that means, “I could be your fucking mother.” In 18 months I’ve only been stopped twice, for no reason. And it worked both times. They shook their heads, smirked, took the $200 pesos I offered and walked away.

  I fell in love with scuba diving. For a person who didn’t think she cared much for fish it was truly magnificent. On a whim I decided to return in the fall to settle in. My diving instructor and I hit it off and she suggested I try living on the island. Since I’d decided I wasn’t going to go home any time soon, this was a great idea. Now I’d found a place to settle down. I would continue south for more adventures and then I’d return to make Cozumel my new home. I’d get my divemaster license, try to get some small restaurant consulting gigs, and learn to live on a very small amount of money. Looked like I finally had a goal. In the meantime we continued driving south.

  In Belize we went camping. We explored Mayan ruins and caves, did some bird-watching, visited the Mennonite community in Spanish Lookout. We picked up German hitchhikers and drove to the sea, stopping at every waterfall and swimming hole we saw. I went scuba diving off Hopkins, met many locals, ate fried fish, listened to reggae, played dominos and drank too much rum.

  In Honduras I met the family of my protege, Jerry. He came to the U.S. at 16 and I was his American mama. I met his actual mama and was welcomed with open arms by his family. They showed me how proud they are of San Pedro Sula—one of the most dangerous cities on the globe. Sure, if you get drunk, go to an ATM late at night to get cash for drugs and hookers, it’s not safe. If you’re joining a cartel or going to try your hand at selling or importing drugs without cartel cover, it’s not safe. Otherwise it’s like any suburban U.S. city with strip malls and fast food joints. Angel and I drove quickly to get to Costa Rica because I was told to fear Honduras and Nicaragua. On the way back I wouldn’t make that mistake.

  My sister and her wife treated us to the luxurious Four Seasons hotel in Costa Rica. Surrounded by screeching howler monkeys we enjoyed spa services, amazing restaurants, gorgeous beaches and a new jungle adventure every day. At the beach Angel had her own lounger and the staff made sure there was an ice cube in her water dish at all times. We were so spoiled. My sister expressed anxiety about my traveling alone. She said both she and my brother weren’t thrilled about my wanting to stay away longer. Then I told her I wasn’t going to return at all. She conceded that I seemed well and clearly wasn’t lonely. My Spanish was improving, I’d seen amazing scenery, met many locals and other travelers. I was happy. I was even weaning myself off anti-depressants. Angel and I continued into Costa Rica.

  I went diving with manta rays and floated next to white tip reef sharks, visited many animal rescues and learned about the unbelievable volume of wildlife in this country. We left the porch light on and went outside in the middle of the night to see hundreds of different insects and frogs, toads, lizards and snakes. We stayed on organic farms, met adventurous kids from around the world, sat on porches at sunset to see mated macaws returning to their nests after their day away. I played poker while in the chic city of Escazu. I experienced Easter’s Holy Week in Guadeloupe in a way I’d never seen before! (It was scary.) I went rafting in La Fortuna and we slept in my truck high on the hills around Volcán Arenal. We went to hot springs, cold springs and drove through rivers on the Oso peninsula to meet a long-ago friend from culinary school who’d left the U.S. 25 years ago. In the rain, Ángel and I drove up unpaved mountain roads only to slide back down. In Puerto Viejo de Telemanca a flash flood resulted in my truck’s passenger side sinking into mud high enough to cover the tires. We walked to our Airbnb. Our host called for a tow truck in the morning. In the morning the tow guys called for a construction crane in the afternoon! Note to self: Do not drive in the pouring rain on dirt roads in Costa Rica!

  In San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua, we watched surfers and I rode a horse through the jungle. On Ometepe Island I stayed with Jose and his wife on their traditional family farm. I went to the school where he volunteers to teach kids skills to get them off the dirt-poor island. Sometimes to university in the hopes of adapting to the modern, global world we live in now. The kids are all adept with their smartphones; actually, everywhere on my travels they were. The sad part, however, is that phone plans come with Facebook, Messenger, WhatsApp and Instagram. No internet search apps. I found this after futilely suggesting a kid “look it up” for at least the twentieth time. I’ve since given up. It’s been the most negative part of my travels. That this next generation has evolved away from clinging to the archaic churches of their ancestors is good. T
hat they’ve fallen into the narcissism and self-absorbed behaviors of American kids is distressing.

  I met a couple who were headed to Utila to dive. I was on my way to scuba dive on Roatan. In the dreaded Honduras. I twisted their arms into doing the driving and chipping in together so we could see more than we would have alone. We danced the night away in Tegucigalpa, tried to fish in Lake Yojoa, and stayed on an off-the-grid, sustainable, organic farm in Los Metallias. We never felt threatened or unsafe. The countryside is absolutely gorgeous.

  On Roatan I practiced my scuba diving, held a sloth, played with monkeys and watched the sunset with altogether too-conservative expats. I was relieved I’d chosen Cozumel. Perhaps I’d find kindred spirits there.

  Copan Ruinas is adorable. The ruins small but interesting, the locals happy and welcoming. Even crossing the border into Guatemala went smoothly. In Antigua I ate Texas-style BBQ and seriously considered moving there because of that, the beauty of the quaint city and the joy of seeing so many churches demolished by natural disasters. But an organic farm on Lake Atitlan called our names. The villages there are amazing. Textiles and coffee and chocolate made before your eyes. Water taxis to take you to visit other villages. Volcanoes and mountains more than 7,500 feet high surround a placid lake. We met the warmest indigenous peoples, most generous young travelers and the friendliest expats so far.

  I thought I’d be homesick. I was wrong. There’s so much to do, so much to see, so many people to observe. As I age I’m starting to get exhausted talking. Telling my story became tedious. Being told that I should write a book intolerable. (Still not sure why I’m writing this!) But when the people I met started telling me how much they admired me and aspired to be like me I had to sit up, take notice and look forward. Away from “take care of me only,” and start, once again, to be an example to others. Thankfully I’m not so tired anymore.

  Angel and I made our way to San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas. I had met a couple in Tulum, Sergio and Carla, who lived there. They’re Buddhist/Zapatistas and our conversations were slowly translated, one language to another. They were awesome. I adored them and looked forward to seeing them in their home state.

  I always bought trinkets from children on my trip. How can you say no? In Guatemala the little girls would hold a rope across the mountain roads forcing you to stop driving, all in order to make you buy plátanos or mangos or trinkets from them. When I arrived in San Cristobal it was worse. Now my dashboard is home to many tiny toys and trinkets that I happily bought along my way.

  Sergio and Carla woke me up to the truth. They pleaded with me to not buy things. To give the kids food instead. Not unlike many indigenous peoples around the world, the ability to process alcohol isn’t common. Too many of these dark-skinned children are from traditional homes. They don’t go to school; they work and give their cash to their fathers, who frequently drink it away. The middle-class in Mexico and Central America is thriving. But the poor are really poor and while never homeless, it’s painfully obvious they’re struggling.

  On the summer solstice I visited Palenque. My truck was packed with all my belongings but I didn’t hesitate to hand my keys over to the parking lot guys, who wash your car while you sightsee. They also agreed to watch out for Angel. If she seemed hot, they’d turn on the air conditioning and at least once they’d take her for a walk. It was an amazing tour with the solstice light glistening through the temple, pyramid and other buildings. I never once doubted my truck and dog would be well-cared for. And they were.

  This is the best part of México. You and your things are safe if you do not make yourself a target. Tipping helps, but most people are honest. They’re not constantly thinking about how to rip others off. Frequently they seem morally superior to most Americans, albeit less educated and less crammed full of propaganda; but also devoid of the self-help books and organized religions that seem to perpetuate the belief that we can’t be good on our own.

  Angel and I made our way back to Cozumel, where we’ve been for seven months now. The locals are lovely. I dive or snorkel some days. We go to a beach to swim and work on our tans the other days. I play poker online, and pen-pal with old and new friends. I’m working on my Spanish and keeping up with U.S. and world news. I host my landlord’s Airbnb guests and I’ve decided to get my TEFL certificate to start teaching English online. Perhaps I’ll find I do have another skill to share.

  I’m often asked where my family is. But the longer I’m away the more satisfied I am being on my own. My landlord has become a close friend, one who frequently reminds me I need to look outward again. To go back out and be a part of the world, to continue to learn and to share.

  It’s about that time. I really loved being on the road. I’m ambivalent about being settled here. Cozumel is also hot; I may choose to leave; I may choose to be a nomad for the rest of my life. The amount of invitations from the single-serving friends I’ve made to visit their country is overwhelming. The only truly good part of Facebook is that they’re all easily reached. I’m not sure I’ll want to stay in one place for long ever again. And now I have places to go and people to see. It feels awesome.

  The bottom line is that I have no interest in going back to America. I left so I could recover, get back my lost energy and find myself again. And I have.

  Joanna Karlinsky grew up Jewish, intellectual and privileged in New York City in the late ‘70s-early ‘80s. In middle school she and her friends reveled in dressing up, eating out, ordering in and correctly pronouncing the names of the hottest French wines. In high school she babysat Anderson Cooper, had Truman Capote review her English homework, played basketball with James Taylor, smoked pot with Ben Stiller, danced with Billy Idol, snorted heroin with Jean-Michel Basquiat and snapped photos of graffiti-laden subways with Keith Haring. After a few years lost to sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll and community organizing, Joanna graduated from the Culinary Institute Of America. For 27 years she cooked hard, partied harder, worked ethically, supervised with love, served guests with compassion, taught with meaning and entertained with passion, playing for keeps and throwing parties where the good times rolled.

  She also battled depression and manic depressive disorder, but failed at being a drug addict. Joanna owned five businesses in San Francisco and still keeps in touch with many past employees and customers. “Cancer sucked most everything away,” says Joanna. “But I’m.back! With gratitude.”

  11. “Leap of Faith”

  Nova Grahl

  Guadalajara, Jalisco

  In a weird way, Mexico saved me. It was 2008, and I was recently divorced. I’d been teaching middle school in Charleston, South Carolina to a pretty tough group of kids. I was burnt out, caught up in comparison and consumerism. I constantly compared myself to “the Joneses,” and came up short every time. While I wasn’t exactly looking for a life change, it was clear that I needed something new, some type of cosmic nudge to push me past my shallow and unfulfilling humdrum.

  On a normal Friday night, I decided to go to a cook-out at a co-worker’s home to blow off some stream from the stressful work week. An acquaintance who also taught middle school mentioned to the group that she’d recently interviewed with a school in Guadalajara and was planning on accepting a position for the following school year. She casually added that they had another available position, and if anyone was interested to get in touch with her by the following morning. Her formal Skype interview was at 10 a.m. I didn’t think much about it at the time, but later that night I had insomnia, and my mind kept returning to the job possibility in Mexico. I kept turning over the idea of teaching outside of the U.S., but each time, I would convince myself it was a silly whim, and that it wasn’t for a girl like me. A girl who’d lived in South Carolina her whole life.; a girl who wasn’t brave enough to do such a thing.

  The next morning, after little sleep and a lot of coffee, I phoned my friend and told her I was interested. I sent in my resume and cover
letter and felt a tiny spark of hope begin to grow in my heart. I continued to tell myself that this wouldn’t, couldn’t work. However, when I spoke with my mom about the job in Guadalajara, I told her that if I got an offer, I was taking it, no matter what. In a way, I think I was giving myself an ultimatum. The following week I had a Skype interview and was offered a position.

  My friends and family thought I was crazy. A few thought I was brave. Others thought it was all just “lip service” and that I wouldn’t leave my near-decade-long job in Charleston for one in Mexico. My family was both worried and supportive. Deep down, I think they may have questioned my sanity a bit, too. But more than anything, I felt … free, and hopeful. I was excited, and nervous, and scared, and for the first time in a long time, I felt vibrantly alive. Saying goodbye to breathtaking Charleston, with its stately oaks, delicious food and fabulous friendships, was bittersweet. I knew that no matter what happened in Mexico, I would embrace this opportunity for growth and change.

  In all honesty, it was a leap of faith. I’d never been to Guadalajara and had only traveled to resorts in Mexico for vacation. I’d only ever taken French and knew not even one lick of Spanish. I wasn’t that adventurous of a person and never really considered myself brave. But that little spark of hope and excitement had grown into a flame that propelled me forward on this journey.