by Janet Blaser
Fortunately Greg was still working, so our health insurance covered the surgeries and treatment. By the time we left five months later I had a clean bill of health. Though of course with a history of cancer, no insurance provider wanted to enroll us. We subscribed to IMSS (affordable Mexican public healthcare) in case of a major cancer relapse, and finally found an insurance provider based in France that would accept us for the non-catastrophic medical bills. The premiums were higher than we’d have liked, but we could swing it. We dropped IMSS after two years once we were fully covered by the new provider.
Our actual move was pretty complicated, at least for my brain. Greg and a friend packed up a shipment of antique furniture and any extra housewares we had and took it up to our new condo in Wisconsin. We arranged for an estate sale company to sell the remainder of our furniture and household items in Kansas City. We packed what we’d need for the first month of work and life in Mazatlán into our Honda Civic hybrid, and on June 14, 2008, we picked our son up from scout camp and commenced the big drive south! That same day I also wrote the first entry in our blog, VidaMaz.com, which we started in order to keep family and friends up to speed on our new life. The movers had already packed up the remainder of our things—one chair we just couldn’t part with was the only furniture we’d move, and the truck was heading south ahead of us. The moving truck, which held several other household’s worth of stuff, too, was due to arrive in Mazatlán in three weeks, customs permitting.
The three of us will never forget driving south and seeing the ocean for the first time, a couple of hours’ north of Mazatlán! Every time we pass that spot now we reminisce about the joy and excitement we felt that day. We moved in our clothes and computers and were very fortunate to already have furniture and the basics in what for the past three years had been our vacation home.
We look back on our first year in Mazatlán as a blur. We spent loads of time running errands and dealing with vendors those first few months. So many people were very helpful, yet we all remember the “curtain lady from hell,” from whom we bought shutters and blinds that never quite functioned correctly. It was hard to get work done as we were so busy running around getting our life set up; most things in Mexico are done live and in person, not virtually, and much more so in 2008 than today. Our work required reliable, robust internet—which really didn’t exist in Mazatlán in 2008 and for years after. So, we paid for two different internet providers, hoping at least one would work on any given day; the cost of doing business in Mexico.
Our first big shock after our move was when the moving truck arrived. They were missing something like four boxes from our load, and a few very expensive items had mysteriously disappeared between our homes in Kansas and Mazatlán. Greg’s effective negotiating ended up getting us the move for almost no cost, but we were sadly out some family heirlooms.
Danny studied with a tutor several nights a week after school. He worked with a teacher and an outside tutor. He turned 13 shortly after our move—I’ll never forget the young girls hanging on the young boys during his birthday pool party, another shock. We moved at an age when Mom and Dad knew nothing, at least in his eyes. Helping Danny with homework brought tears and frustration, so the tutors were a godsend. We all clearly remember one day about six months into living in Mazatlán, when Danny woke up and “suddenly” understood his homework. From then on out it was smooth sailing. At university he was commended by a professor for being one of the “career-best” bilinguals she’d worked with. Reading her comments sure did my heart good!
School brought a lot of cultural adjustment—we moved because we wanted a minority experience, and we were repeatedly reminded to watch what you ask for! Creative casting had Danny starring in the school play as the “ugly gringo boss” of a tall skinny white boy in the role of a poor campesino named Jesús, and we were often unaware of soccer practice and games until the very last minute, occasionally not at all. We also remember leaving town for summer vacation with plans to return on a certain date, only to learn three weeks later the school district had moved up the start of school by a week! We couldn’t imagine that happening in the U.S., and quickly and expensively had to change our return flight reservations.
The parents of Danny’s friends at school were one of the most difficult adjustments for me. I remember the mothers pushing and shoving to purchase books for their kids that first year, so much so that I left school crying and shaking. We had quite a few parents of Danny’s friends shame us for having moved here: “Why in the world would you take your son out of a good quality school in a safe neighborhood in the U.S. and bring him to Mazatlán?! It’s irresponsible parenting!”
It was disheartening to me that they could feel so negatively about their hometown. We experienced a very high quality of education in Mazatlán, but their comments naturally caused us to doubt our parenting. Our families and friends didn’t understand it, either. Barely anyone visited us the first few years after our move, convinced that Mexico was too dangerous. I think I finally felt redeemed when Danny was accepted to all but one of the universities he applied for and received four or five scholarships of U.S. $80,000 or more. It seems both U.S. and Mexican colleges look for multicultural, multilingual kids with life experience.
As with any move, it took us a while to find friends we really resonated with, but fortunately we now have a good core group of both locals and expats. We’d host parties at our house, and quickly found that we couldn’t mix upper- and working-class local friends; neither set would be comfortable with the other present. We still find it challenging to invite mixed groups of locals and expats to the same shindig, as many of our local friends don’t speak English, and sadly quite a few expats aren’t comfortable for an entire evening of Spanish. I still don’t like how during parties women gravitate to one room and men to another, and I’ve learned that local women stay in touch much more frequently and effusively than what I was used to, with WhatsApp and phone calls being the preferred methods.
Greg, Danny and I developed new traditions, like “palapa Friday:” fresh seafood lunch on the beach with our toes in the sand, designed to help us decompress after a hard week in a foreign culture, to remind us why we moved here in the first place. I did not imagine the career implications our move would have. Many of my colleagues insisted on believing we had retired. Even though they were international consultants, trainers and educators, many of them remained convinced that you didn’t move to Mexico to continue working.
So, what changed with our move to Mexico? We began eating a lot healthier. I’d always prided myself on daily home-cooked meals made from scratch. But here it was much easier to get fresher produce, fish, seafood and meat; there are far fewer processed food options, which is a blessing to one’s health. And the big meal of the day is eaten in the afternoon, with more of a snack in the evening, which has been great for our weight. We keep agua fresca in the refrigerator—water flavored with fresh fruit or vegetables and sweetened with stevia. In addition to the carrot and celery sticks we always have on hand for snacking, we’ve added jicama, which we all love.
Our son was very upset when we first told him we were moving to Mexico. Now he loves Mazatlán: the warm weather and the beach, the view of the ocean and the mountains from our condo. But he didn’t want to leave his friends. On the one-year anniversary of our move, Greg woke him up for school and told him what day it was. “One year since the best decision of our lives,” the 13-year-old proclaimed. And, indeed, it was. In Kansas I’d always put time limits on Danny’s screen time, but he loved video games and television. Once we’d moved to Mazatlán he didn’t have much time for either. He played soccer, did school-required social service (walking dogs, cleaning trash, helping teach English), and he was very active in Scouts, which here are co-ed and intergenerational. Scouts were a godsend. There Danny perfected his Spanish and formed friendships I know he’ll have for a lifetime. He learned to look out for and teach the younger kids. He de
veloped skills that we dearly miss now that he’s not living with us anymore. He also had a lot of parties. Both middle- and high-school brought multiple parties every week: birthdays, friends’ families’ events, group and club events. He was too busy for television, and if he played video games it was now with a group of friends playing Guitar Hero or some such; life became much more communal and convivial.
The move greatly strengthened our nuclear family. After his six-month sabbatical, Greg ended up joining me in my consulting business. Working with him has been a godsend and allowed us freedom to spend time with Danny. In Kansas he had to battle to leave work, wearing his suit, to watch Danny play soccer or basketball. Here he was able to be around most of the time, help with meal planning and cooking, and be available when the teenager needed advice or correction.
Ironically, moving to Mexico reconnected us to family. After the loss of our parents and my sister and nephew, we sort of felt like we didn’t have anyone left. Once we moved to Mazatlán, we made the commitment to go north to visit extended family over the very short summer break from school. I never would have imagined what a blessing this would become! Each year our stay got a bit longer, as Danny got to know and enjoy his cousins more, and I reconnected with my long-lost beloved cousin-sisters and aunts.
That blog we started to connect with family and friends hit a sweet spot with lots of people thinking about moving to Mexico. Over the years we’ve helped dozens of families choose schools, find a neighborhood to live in and settle into their new lives in Mazatlán. I’ve consulted friends on raising multilingual, multicultural children, or coping with culture shock and coming out the other end stronger and more resilient. VidaMaz.com was honored by the Sinaloa State Secretary of Tourism for its contributions, and we’ve received recognition from quite a few other sources as well. What’s been fabulous is the variety of incredible people we’ve gotten to know through our curiosity and the blog, people we are privileged to now call friends. When I wrote that first entry I never would have dreamed what a blessing that blog would become.
Finally, the change of scenery and friendships gave me the push I needed to devote more time to developing my photography. I’ve always loved taking pictures, but being surrounded by creative friends in Mexico motivated me to take a class and dedicate a day a week to learning new techniques. Photography quickly became a passion, and last fall and this spring I was blessed with four exhibits in a row. Two were in Europe—Paris and Vienna—on the Mayo-Yoreme (natives of northern Sinaloa and southern Sonora) Konti (Lenten festival). Europeans were delighted to learn how the Yoreme have used ritual and tradition to keep kids off drugs and the streets and connected to community, and the Yoreme were in turn psyched to have Parisians and Viennese learning from them. The third and fourth exhibitions were in Mazatlán, one breaking attendance records for a gallery opening by our municipal CULTURA office, and another exhibit forming the entrance to our Mexican international tourism fair, where even the President stopped to have his photo taken.
The move to Mazatlán has most definitely been a major success for our family on so very many fronts. Our son sees himself as a world citizen; he defines himself as multilingual and multicultural. His employers value that in him, and repeatedly note on performance appraisals that one of his most helpful skills is his ability to facilitate teamwork and decision-making, especially when there are diverse opinions. To me, that in itself is priceless, and I doubt seriously it would have been a skill Danny would have developed growing up in Kansas City.
Greg and I are much healthier than we were up north. We’ve both lost weight and exercise daily. He’s returned to running, a sport he did when he was younger and is very much enjoying again in middle age. He reads widely and is always keeping me up-to-date on the latest inventions, oddities and pop culture in our world. I believe we’ve all developed emotional resilience living in Mexico, flexibility, the value of a positive outlook and constructive problem-solving, and we’re much better able to go with the flow and enjoy life.
We told our son from a young age that it’s not the party that’s good or bad, it’s you and the people present who make the party. These are our lives to live, and our lives will be what we make of them. We are very happy to have seized the day and hope to continue doing that for a long time. Our path is no doubt very different than yours, and we hope our experience might provide some food for thought or inspiration for your journey.
Dianne Hofner Saphiere was born the middle of five children to a German-American family in southeastern Wisconsin. They relocated to northern Arizona when she entered middle school; there she began a lifelong fascination with indigenous cultures. Dianne graduated with a master’s degree from colleges in northern California and lived and worked for more than a decade in Japan. She’s married to an incredibly talented and supportive partner, Greg, and very proud of her Third Culture Kid (TCK), Danny, who is an economic geographer.
Professionally Dianne wears several hats. She’s an intercultural organization development consultant who has worked with people from more than120 nations and traveled to over 85, living for 10+ years in Japan and for a shorter time in Spain. She’s the creator of Cultural Detective, an online series of intercultural competence development materials co-created with 160 international professionals.
Dianne is an avid photographer at Thru Di’s Eyes (https://www.thrudiseyes.com), and has had exhibitions in Paris, Vienna and throughout Mexico. Follow her family’s personal journeys at VidaMaz.com (https://vidamaz.com).
19. “Seeking Paradise”
PC Nordhoff
Chuburná Puerto, Yucatán
Our retirement in Mexico began as more of a necessity than a spur-of-the-moment life choice. In fact, I investigated Costa Rica and Panama before making Mexico our final decision. Otherwise I knew my husband and I would have to continue working until we were 70-plus just to get by had we decided to stay in America. At that time, our “lifestyle” was nothing more than working steadily just to pay the bills and worrying constantly about making ends meet every single month. In other words, no real quality of life as we grew older. I felt depressed and desperate every time I thought about the future.
We chose Mexico because of the lower cost of living, the proximity to the U.S. and the beauty of the beaches I’d only previously seen on internet travel sites. I was simply unaware of the incredible beauty that truly exists in Mexico until my flight landed in Mérida and I began my quest for a beach house where my husband and I could happily retire and make our own personal Paradise.
The day I arrived in Mexico and walked out of the airport it was as bright and shimmering as a watercolor painting. The brilliant sunlight not only heightened the colors of everything, but also intensified the smells and scents of the flowers and trees. I was astounded and amazed at the sheer beauty of the place! I’d landed in Mérida and took a taxi to my hotel. On the way there I saw the backwoods Third World country I’d read about, but when we pulled up in front of the hotel I was pleasantly surprised by the stately beauty of the old colonial inn, with its captivating design and structure and gardens full of all manner of glorious fragrant flowers I’d never seen before. I was soon to discover that this magnificent capital city of the Yucatán had a marvelous way of bringing its past and present together.
I stayed in Mérida for a week, wandering around the city. I fell in love with the surroundings, especially the Gulf beaches of the puerto (port) towns of Progreso, Chelem and Chuburná. The latter two are sleepy little fishing villages which are exceptionally charming, full of the traditional flavors and culture of the Maya people.
I was thrilled and ready for my adventure and had a few days before an appointment with a realtor. I filled my time with getting to know the area: touring the Mayan archaeological sites, ruins and relics; viewing the famous cenotes (natural pools or sinkholes filled with crystal clear groundwater found only in the Yucatán), exploring the city of Merida, buying Mayan handicrafts
, visiting the local museums and sampling the Yucatán cuisine. I was simply astonished at the creativity and artistry of the local Maya culture.
The day of my appointment was another beautiful day. I traveled 40 minutes north of Mérida to the Gulf Coast and once again I found myself astounded at the stunning, intense light that brought out every minute detail of the palm trees and the sea. Gentle breezes carried the sweet aromas of colorful tropical flowers and flowering trees. I fell in love with it all, especially the small villages, which I found exceptionally charming. They were enchanting and magical, and I felt incredibly fortunate that I’d found exactly the location my husband and I were seeking.
This area is known as the Emerald Coast, and to this day I’m not sure if the name comes from the gorgeous emerald green water of the Gulf or the emerald green/gold of henequen, a local plant grown commercially that’s native to southern Mexico. During the nineteenth century it was used to make a durable fibrous material which made the Yucatán wealthy and famous.
With my husband’s agreement I purchased a small beach house in Chuburná Puerto (one of those quaint fishing villages on the northwest side of the Yucatán, on the Gulf of Mexico). When I returned to the States I sold our house, and within four months we sold all of our furniture and personal possessions. We literally packed nothing but what fit in three suitcases and flew to our new home.
“Crazy!” “Stupid!” “Ridiculous!” “Weird!” “How could you?!” “They’ll shoot you because of Trump!” Oh yes, we heard all of these negative comments and more, but nothing deterred us. Sometimes one has to do what the heart tells you to.
And so we slowly settled and adjusted to the sometimes-primitive conditions of our quaint little beach house; we brought so little with us our cottage was almost bare. No furniture, no flowers, plants or trees, no air conditioning, 110 wiring, no car, no friends or relatives, incredible nortes—fierce wind storms that came down from the north—unimaginable sun and heat, huge multitudes of mosquitoes carrying all sorts of diseases, and just the sand and the sea ... endless sand and sea. We’ve endured two-inch-long, ink-black scorpions on the walls and floors—oftentimes females carrying as many as 30 babies on their backs—immense flying cockroaches so big you need a large sturdy shoe to kill just one of them, huge, scary, hairy spiders, iguanas of every size and Mexican street dogs that are wild, aggressive and so starving you have to look away to prevent yourself from sobbing. (We now own four.)