Culture – Page 11 – Pat the Expat

The End of (Dog) Days

Is there anything harder than putting down your dog? Don’t answer, I don’t want to know.

Judy & I have put down three Vizslas in our married life. It’s an odd euphemism. Some say “put to sleep,” others “put down” and of course there’s the old “sent to the farm.” But in the end, it means the same thing.

Our first two (consecutive) Vizslas each lasted to ten years old, which is pretty good for a large dog breed that has been inbred for generations. Both developed cancer, and showed signs of physical decay and pain that made our choice somewhat easier. The decline was sudden–weeks not months–and obvious. The veterinarian told us we could wait a little longer, but the likely outcome was painful internal bleeding leading to sudden collapse: hardly an option to choose. Still, it wasn’t easy, and I (actually the whole family) cried like a baby.

Dogs will do that to you. Both Judy and I had grown up with dogs as family pets. Yes, they cost a lot. Yes, they take up time. Yes, they’re inconvenient when travelling or with visitors. But then again, so are families. And dogs are a chance to teach your kids about responsibility, about growing up and growing old and dying. And in between, they give unconditional love. Kids need that; sometimes parents have to be the provider of tough love, but that dog is always there, wagging a tale, just happy to see you.

The best dogs don’t think they’re dogs any more. They think they’re slightly smaller, oddly-shaped humans. They want to be with you, they need to be with you, they’re only happy when they are with you. When our kids were grown and off to college, we rescued two Vizslas at once. Even though we understood the breed, the balance of two Vizslas and two humans turned us into a pack rather than a family, with negative behavioral consequences for all concerned. We quite literally found a farm for one of our Vizslas, and things returned to normal.

Tucker was our fourth, and almost certainly our last, Vizsla. We rescued him around the same time we committed to retiring to Mexico. He was “four or so” according to the breed Rescue Society, but we had just turned down a five year old since the pain of putting down a dog at ten was fresh in our minds. Suddenly a “four year old” became available. Hmmmm, something suspicious about that, what?

Tucker was a three-time loser, a dog who had been turned over to rescue at least three previous times, and this was his last chance. We had to say yes. We knew that his most recent owners had been in the midst of a divorce, and there had been an incident of domestic violence (the wife attacking the husband, who was the pet’s favorite, we were told). This would show up again once we rescued him: if Judy started walking quickly toward me, he would move between us, a trait which foreshadowed a sad end.

The Tucker we knew was a sweet dog, very smart, but also very stubborn. He learned several words (outside, w-a-l-k, treat) and many commands (sit, stay, and even “hurry-up” to poop, believe it or not), yet he practiced being deaf at times, too. He was afraid of smoke, even steam, and fire engine sirens. The chirping of the smoke alarm, signalling the need for new batteries, was an existential terror for him. He was only social with humans. When we took him to the dog park, he ignored the other dogs and introduced himself to all the owners. The few times he played with the other dogs, he would show-off by outrunning or out-cornering the other breeds, but then turn the pack on some smaller dog like a schoolyard bully.

After much work, we eventually trained him to ignore other dogs, which was fine with him. I noticed how he watched me go running on the weekends, so one time I decided to take him with. He fell into a heel position and ran at my pace for three miles! Either someone had trained him well, or he was natural born runner’s companion.

He started to “go white” almost immediately, confirming our suspicion he was older than we were told, but he was healthy and well-adjusted. We joked about him joining us in moving to Mexico, which was still five years out when we rescued him. Obviously he took us seriously, because those years flew by and at ten, he was till healthy and active and cancer-free. So we loaded him up in a tiny space in the back of our SUV and drove him south of the border.

Expat life was as kind to dogs as human retirees, and he remained healthy. Over the course of five years here, he lost some hearing, although he feigned losing even more. His depth perception and visual acuity declined, leading to some hysterical encounters with Mexican squirrels, including even stepping on one. He took longer and more frequent naps. He became more sensitive to those loud noises he could here, especially cohetes, which required mild sedation at times. But he was still active and alert. I think he got a kick when people asked how old was my puppy and I told them “fifteen years!”

In the past year, he stated displaying some confusion. He was prone to barking attacks where something set him off–he was clearly agitated, not startled– but could not be easily calmed. He started charging at Judy more often, sometimes just when we were talking. Finally, he took a small bite at her, (Strike One) and we knew trouble was brewing.

The drama of selling our house, buying a new one, moving, and having renovations only added to his confusion and agitation. When the grandkids were visiting, we left Tucker home one day, and when we returned, he ran out the door, jumped in the rented mini-van, and would not leave it. I went out and reached for him, thinking he was having trouble navigating getting out of the vehicle: no, he went off and tried to bite my hands. I backed away, so he leapt out of the vehicle and bit my leg (Strike Two). Then he stopped and looked at me with a “what was that all about?” look.

Two nights ago, Judy walked toward me and Tucker dashed across the room and nipped at her. I shouted and kicked at him (never reach for an angry dog), but he bit her a second time and clamped down. I smacked and kicked at him, and he let go, but she had a tremendous bruise on her thigh from the attack. Strike Three; you’re out.

He laid down in his dog bed, clearly upset, but whether that was remorse or shock, who knows? For us, the die was cast; you can’t keep a dog which might go full-scale beserk at any moment. In some sense, putting Tucker down was more difficult, since when he was normal, he was completely normal. In another sense, it was easier, as we had a sense of relief at not waiting for the next attack.

I still cried.

Buying & Selling Homes in Mexico: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Three very important things to remember up front:

The basis for Mexican law

First, stop me if you’ve heard this before, but Mexican law–like the Pirate Code–is more what you’d call guidelines than actual rules. Most people know that criminal proceedings in Mexico are, shall we say, challenging; the civil code even moreso. Whereas North of the Border (NOB) the threat to sue someone can be serious, down here it’s an invitation to an endless parade of hearings and charges and counter-charges and oh, nevermind. The lack of a recourse to legal remedies is something you have to understand before owning property here.

Second, real estate is a growing business, but not a profession in Mexico. There is a realtor association (AMPI) pursuing professional standards of conduct. But there are no federal laws, and only some Mexican states have licensing requirements (ours, Jalisco, does not). So anybody can hang up a shingle and be your agent. Because it is not capital intensive and with little barrier to entry, we have met chefs and restaurateurs and waiters and retired expats and doctors and cabbies and others who are real estate agents.

Third, always remember that things in Mexico happen in three speeds: slow, slower, and slowest. Buying and selling property in Mexico means engaging notarios (who review and effectively “approve”the transaction), banks, real estate firms, home owners associations, utilities, maids, and gardeners, all for the purpose of establishing (1) you are who you say you are, (2) you own what you think you own, and (3) no one else has any claim on said property. All this in a land where cash is king, records are spotty, and the pirate code applies! Add in international money transfers and Mexican holidays and things will be all set mañana.

I just watched a Director’s cut of Sergio Leone’s “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” so that’s the theme from here on out:

Amazon.com: The Good The Bad And The Ugly Clint Eastwood 1966 Photo Print (28 x 22): Posters & Prints — The Good, . . .

In the end, we sold our house for a fair price and bought the house we wanted for another fair price. Given that we started out by falling in love with the new house (a REALLY, REALLY bad idea), this is what it is all about. Of course, that’s like saying eating at a restaurant is all about consuming edible food containing sufficient calories at a decent price. True, but there’s the menu variety, the service, the presentation and so forth. When we’re talking about the largest financial transaction most people ever make, you want to say more than “phew, glad we survived that!” The other good thing was that the buyers of our home and the seller of our new home were pleasant people; it is always a pleasure dealing with reasonable people! But that leads us to:

THE GOOD BAD AND & UGLY LEE VAN CLEEF ANGEL EYES SPAGHETTI WESTERN PHOTO POSTER | eBay — The Bad, . . .

Many of the things under “The Bad” are structural. Without the possibility of a mortgage, we had to move money around in order to have it ready and waiting for the purchase. Getting no debt statements from the power (CFE), phone (TelMex), and water (Simapa) utilities was pretty easy. But some of these you pay in advance, and others in arrears, so that’s complicating. Then we needed to have our maid and gardener sign statements saying they had no claims on the property, and we needed a copy of their identification cards. As well as statements from the home owners association and the club and our receipt for annual property taxes paid.

At least we didn’t face two other potential “bad” aspects: currency conversion and title problems. The former happens if the other party in the transaction is a local national, since the actual transaction is completed in pesos at the moment of closing. If both parties agree to pricing in dollars, this peso conversion is irrelevant. If the deal is actually completed in pesos (per the Pirate Code), then one side has to convert them back to dollars, which could mean a substantial gain or loss depending on the currency markets (because you’re dealing with large sums, even a small change can mean big money).

The latter (titles) is a big potential problem here, as there are federal land use laws that could block one’s claim to ownership! As I understand it, the notario is responsible for authenticating the documents in the closing sale, but if the title is authentic but invalid, sorry, you lose. Buying property in an established development lessens the risk, as the title issues have probably been worked out, but it pays to do the research yourself. And finally:

GOOD BAD UGLY TUCO TAKES BLONDIE TO THE DESERT | Mapio.net — and The Ugly

These go back to my restaurant analogy: mostly things annoying or head-scratchingly dumb. The waiter spills water on you. Gets the drink order wrong. The appetizer comes with the main course. Your wine glass is dirty. You get the picture: not earth-shattering, but would you eat there again? Not if it’s a high end restaurant.

We had a long list here. An agent asked us to donate the beds in our new house to the cleaning team because “they fell in love with them.” Clauses we wanted in agreements failed to appear, not due to negotiation, they just weren’t there. Other terms–like a rent-back agreement–were similarly misplaced. Names misspelled, documents and data requested but already provided. A counter-offer that failed to mention the original terms, which thus became a “new” offer. An agent telling a client “if you decide not to go through with (buying and) moving here, I want you to promise me now that you will simply re-list the house for sale with me.” A threat to limit access to our new house before closing. A buyer’s agent who blithely commented “if anything minor comes up, I’m sure they (the sellers, us) will take care of it.” All of which just reinforces the point that real estate is a relatively unregulated market in Mexico, so you might encounter some pretty odd behaviors. We were pleased with our agent, but one must be diligent in selecting one.

All’s well that ends well, as Shakespeare penned! Here’s the money shot:

Everything You Know is Wrong (IX): The Spanish Inquisition

Ever heard of the Spanish Inquisition? I thought you’d be surprised! You know, how it demonstrated the horror of imposing one’s religious beliefs on others, not to mention the danger inherent in believing one knows exactly what God intends, which can lead to all manner of extremism. It’s a popular view, almost a trope, partly based on that well-established English bias about history that North Americans imbibe, and partly based on, well:

but you KNEW this was coming

The Good News (pun intended) is that the Catholic Church, being the world’s longest-running, most successful bureaucracy (among other things) has excellent data on the Spanish Inquisition. Not only that, the data are reliable, because the inquisidores really believed they were doing God’s work (however bizarre that may seem to modern sensibilities), and lying about their work would have undermined the “good” they thought they were doing. And the Vatican released the data in the late 1990s.

If you asked an average person what they knew about the Spanish Inquisition, the key points would boil down to: (1) many innocent people were tortured to confess, (2 ) they were burned at the stake, (3) all to force people to accept the Catholic faith. So let’s get past Monty Python’s “comfy pillow” sketch and look at the facts!

How many people died at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition? None. Well, that’s a quibble. See the Office of the Holy Inquisition had no authority to execute anyone; only a King did. So the Inquisition passed off the condemned to the King’s executioners. Setting aside the quibble, early estimates ranged upward of millions of victims killed. But there are those pesky records, and modern historians have pored over them and determined the total to be at most 5,000 people (during the period 1478-1834, about 350 years), or a little more than one a month. There were periods of more and fewer executions, and long periods with none, as no trials were held. Hardly an enormity in the true sense of the word, or even a blip in the mortality statistics of the day!

Why the quibble about the role of the King in all this? It may be hard to understand in modern-day terms, but back then the government and religion were one-and-the-same: it was called Christendom for a reason. Denying the true faith demanded penitence, but refusing to admit the sin was a challenge to the sovereign, who was after all God’s chosen leader (the Divine Right of Kings), and thus was a capital offense. That’s what cost the accused their life. There was a continuing disagreement between Spanish royalty and Rome, with the former seeking harsh punishment (for the challenge to the throne) and the latter granting mercy as long as those charged repented at any point.

What about torture? Yes, the Inquisition practiced torture. They literally wrote books about it: when to do it, for how long, under what circumstances, etc. These tracts would be very familiar to anyone who read the Department of Justice memos regarding “enhanced interrogation techniques” under the Bush administration. Where do you think “waterboarding” came from originally? Here’s the rub: all countries, and all legal systems, allowed torture at that time. The Roman legal system practiced it, and bequeathed it everywhere Romans went. Islam developed its own version. Charging the Inquisition with torture is “like handing out speeding tickets at the Indy 500.”

Napalm - Imgflip — actually Kurtz said it

For the Inquisition, torture could only be employed after guilt was established, to elicit a full confession and further information about co-conspirators, heretics, etc. (again, sound familiar?). There were limits on how long, what types, how painful, the need for a doctor present; it’s eerie reading. And none of these rules applied in the regular government legal system. There, torture was practiced freely without restraints and often used early in the investigation to get a confession and complete the case. How bad was “justice” at the time? The records show criminal or civil defendants requesting to be transferred to the Inquisition for trial! So guilty as charged on torture, with a huge asterisk as that was nothing unusual at the time.

What about forcing others to become Catholic? See, here’s the problem with that odd charge: anyone could avoid the Inquisition by simply stating they were not Catholic. The Inquisition had no authority over Jews, Muslims, or pagans. The Church had long accepted the notion that one could not be forced to accept a different religion; thus the Inquisition was adopted to weed out heretics and false believers. Spain was in the process of the Reconquista, the expulsion of the remaining Muslim forces on the Iberian peninsula. As Catholic Spanish forces gradually occupied the lands, they had the problem of ruling these lands. Their solution was to allow freedom of religion, but to place limits on land ownership, positions of authority, and to impose heavy taxes, thus encouraging–but not mandating–conversion. Incidentally, these were the same rules Islamic leaders developed when they ruled Al Andalus, rules which some historians called even-handed and far-sighted!

Some Muslims and Jews became conversos, but a very small number only did so for the financial and political advantages it held. These false conversions became a target for the Inquisition, often based on secret tips from faithful Muslims and Jews who were annoyed by the success of their one-time fellow adherents. Add in ethnic rivalries, the ability of the Crown and local leaders to profit from seized property, and petty jealousies and you get a deadly mix of accusations. One redeeming quality: the inquisidores were intrepid detectives, and most charges brought to court were dropped. One set of records shows about one percent of the 125,000 heresy cases brought to trial under the Spanish Inquisition resulted in executions.

What about the procedures involved with the Spanish Inquisition? The Inquisition was all about process: there were hundreds of pages of rules and policies and procedures, all of which were lacking in European justice systems at the time. That is why many ordinary people and local leaders welcomed the Inquisition. All throughout the process there were opportunities for those charged to confess and seek forgiveness through some act of penitence. The arrival of an inquisidor started a thirty day Grace Period (literally) where anyone could simply admit guilt, be given a penance, and be forgiven. Then began a period of accusations and investigation, a trial and verdict, then sentencing or release. The final act was the auto da fé, which has come to mean “burning at the stake” in English, but actually means act of faith. This was a religious ceremony–including a mass and a procession–where the inquisidor and local prelates related the results of the trial to a public. At the end of the process, the accused, having been given another opportunity to repent publicly, was handed over to the civil authorities for punishment.

Why is there such a dark cloud of misinformation hovering over the Spanish Inquisition? Partially it is so foreign to our ideals today, but mostly it is a hangover from the “Black Legend.” In the 16th century, Spain was the wealthiest, most powerful Catholic nation in the emergent struggle over the Protestant Reformation. Thus it was the target of propaganda, the most effective of which was a campaign known as the “Black Legend” which depicted Spain in the harshest terms as a land full of violence, corruption, sexual excess and worse: sort of like California today (I kid, I kid). Many of the stories involved the Spanish Inquisition, and England was the chief source (in its ongoing rivalry with Spain). And those legends got past along with English history.

None of which is to say the Spanish Inquisition was good. Saint Pope John Paul II apologized for the violence it enacted. Moreover, while heresy was a continuous problem in those days, the threat posed by conversos was greatly exaggerated and never merited an inquisition, as demonstrated by the numbers of trials, exonerations, and executions.

George Santayana said “those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” I would add that those who don’t know the truth about history are condemned to repeating falsehoods.

Money . . . Get Back!

A challenge for expats anywhere is how to access your funds. This is especially true in most of Mexico, where credit cards may not be accepted or come with a handy processing fee (the same fee usually paid by the vendor elsewhere) tacked on. Luckily for expats, Mexico does have many cajeros automaticos, or as you know them: ATMs.

Expats become accustomed to knowing (and sharing) advice about banks and their ATM machines: for example, which ones have both ingles and espanol options, which banks charge what as a transaction fee, what the various per day and per transaction limits are, which machines “swallow” your card whole versus holding it where you can retrieve it manually (important where power might suddenly fail).

Lately, expats have had to master the bank-managed “service fee” scam called dynamic currency conversion. This is where the bank machine “offers” you to convert your peso request to dollars at the point of conversion (how helpful) but gives you an incredibly poor exchange rate. The trick is the “offer” seems to be like the transactions fee, in that it says you can accept or decline, but most people assume that if they decline they won’t be able to get their pesos (like the transaction fee, which if you decline, the machine ends your transaction). Untrue! If you decline, you still receive your pesos, but the bank or financial institution you use at home does the conversion, usually at a much better rate. This service has been a standard rip-off among restaurants and retailers in Europe for years, but it has recently migrated to ATMs worldwide: avoid it! I would note that if your domestic bank has a really bad reputation for its currency conversion rates, you might be better off using the ATM conversion rate. But you probably would be best off changing banks!

Some expats go the extra step by getting a Mexican bank account and credit cards, allowing them to transfer money from their previous home to here. Mexican banks are, shall we say, picky. Sometimes just opening an account can involve some of that famous Mexican bureaucracy, such as “no, that’s a color copy, we don’t accept it” or “(today) we’re not opening accounts for gringos.” Oh, and writing checks? Every item must be letter perfect, including your full name and day/month/year (not month/day/year) and the spelled-out sum in español, por favor. Oh, and most importantly, such accounts are not federally insured, so there is always the possibility your money could just disappear.

Not all of this is Mexican banks’ fault: Americans should know that the US government applies its own rules to foreign banks, making them responsible for various reporting requirements! Some banks and brokerages–even American ones–now shun American expat accounts as not worth the trouble. If you’re an American expat, you must report foreign financial accounts if (1) you have signature authority on the account and (2) if the aggregate value of all your foreign accounts exceeds $10,000 USD at any time during the year (there are exceptions). The important document to file is called a Report of Foreign Bank and Financial Accounts (FBAR) on FinCEN Form 114. It is only a report: it is not used to check whether you owe taxes, which of course you must pay on any income received via these accounts. And don’t try to get cute by intentionally hedging just below the $10,000 USD limit; one recent court case found such activity to also be against the law! You can see why some American expats never bother with foreign accounts.

What about the need for larger sums that would never be available via ATM, like to buy a car, furniture, or a down payment on a house? There are a growing number of options. Our American bank allows us to do a direct wire transfer to foreign recipients for around $50 USD ($25 for any wire transfer, an additional $25 for international recipients). If the transfer is not going to a financial institution–for example to a private individual–the bank sends us several warnings letting us know it can’t verify the recipient and it is not responsible once the money goes out, which just means we have to make sure we have the account info correct on our end.

We’ve also used Xoom (pronounced the same way as the videoconferencing service), a division of PayPal which facilitates international financial transfers. We’ve used Xoom to pay for some services like home repair or contracting. Most often we have not been charged a transaction fee, and the exchange rates have generally been good. There is a transaction fee if you’re using a credit card, not a bank account as the source. It takes a little time (and info) to add a new recipient, but once “in the system” the transactions are immediate (hours, not days). One extra (and very nice) feature is Xoom allows you to request confirmations (text or otherwise) for both the sender and recipient, so you get a running series of money sent/received notices. Also, if the transfer fails for any reason, Xoom will notify you of that, too. I know there are other international transfer services with similar features, but Xoom is one for which we can personally vouch.

Some brokerage accounts (like Charles Schwab) also allow international transfers without extra charges, so that is another way to have money secure in one place but still be able to move it where you need it. There are exceptions, so make sure you read the fine print!

Finally, a related issue with financial transfers (of any sort) could be the need for notarization. I knew of expat friends who were forced to fly back to the States to get notarization of financial documents. We recently had a similar situation, and discovered online notaries who could meet all our requirements for about $30 USD and ten minutes of online consultation!

Some expats get all wrapped up in exchange rates and trying to game when they transfer larger sums to gain an advantage. Sometimes this is because they are on a budget and a few pesos matter; sometimes it’s just the thrill of getting a deal. In any event, there are myriad ways to move money internationally these days, and more coming along every day. While having money is a key factor in being an expat, getting your money shouldn’t be.

A Family Visit

There are few joys more profound for an expat than when family comes to visit. Especially when family is skeptical about the whole “why are Gramps & Meemo living in Mexico?” story. So my dear wife and I were very excited when our younger daughter, her husband, and their young son and daughter decided to join us on our return trip from a family visit to South Bend!

They came for a solid week, and of course, we had the first full week of rain I can remember in four years. We got a lot of ribbing about “unlimited sunshine” and where was it? However, when reminded that back home in the Mid-Atlantic it was ninety degrees and ninety percent humidity at nine o’clock in the morning, they admitted it was still better here.

We went to the pool & the club and hit several local favorite restaurants. What was surprising to these first-time visitors to real Mexico? Not much. They were a little surprised by how inexpensive things were, especially booze and food. They noted the prevalence of barbed wire and broken glass on the tops of the walls, and the amount of roadside trash and shrines, all sad things we had to explain. Pick-up truck loads of standing laborers, families on scooters, and people riding horses while talking on cell phones brought surprised smiles.

We took a day trip to the Guadalajara Zoo, which I highly recommend. It has a variety of passes for different sets of exhibits, is nicely laid out with abundant shade, and the animals seem well-cared for. We also used the services of Mex-ECO tours for a private visit with friends to the town of Magdalena, near Tequila, for a afternoon of opal mining. Kids, hardhats, and pick-axes: what could go wrong? I asked about dynamite, but none was available. We did find a few opal and quartz stones suitable for polishing and great as keepsakes of the day. We also spent a fine Sunday visiting Juan Diego and his wife Laura at the goat farm (Galo de Allende) near Mezcala, where the grand-kids got to milk a goat and mix with the herd.

The kids and grand-kids got to experience that overnight tropical deluge along with prodigious thunder and lightning, eat from a molcajete, and try the Mexican versions of their favorite American cereals (“not quite right” was their considered opinion). After a week (the approved limit for all family visits), we took them to Soriana for the ritual covid tests and they flew back to the States.

We missed the opportunity to get fresh chicharrónes, go horse-back riding, attend lucha libre, or see downtown Guadalajara, but they did get to see our new home (more on that later). Most importantly, everybody stayed healthy & unhurt and had a good time. They’ll be back, although it may be difficult to pry them loose when they move to Vicenza, Italy, later this year. Guess we’ll just have to pay them a return visit first (the things we do for our grand-kids)!

The Guadalajara zoo backs up on the Barranca de Oblatos, the amazing canyon you see when flying into the area.

Moving on (up)

When we first mentioned our intention to retire to Mexico some nine years ago, we faced a variety of reactions. Family thought we were joking, or crazy, or both. Friends were astounded, and couldn’t understand. A few of my work associates (who were familiar with Mexico–so to speak) congratulated us on an excellent choice, but most told me I was too young to retire. Some told me to hedge my bets, since I would undoubtedly be back soon, having “missed the game.”

Despite the concern and astonishment, we bought the house in Mexico, and (literally) counted down the days during those last five work years, waiting to retire early. We sold nearly everything, loaded up the FJ with the family dog, and set out for the retired expat life. Four years later, we have no regrets. Expat retirement has been a wonderful experience, and even the pandemic has only reinforced our belief we made the right choice.

But change happens, as they say. You get older if not wiser. Things once new become commonplace. So we decided to put the house up for sale and move again. Now don’t panic: no, we’re not returning to the States. We just finally decided to get another place here in Ajijic, but this time a house with a view. And what a view!

The home selling and buying process in expat land is quite familiar. First, there are numerous real estate agencies here that specialize in expats, often staffed with former NOB real estate agents. Many homes are priced in dollars, although the final sale must be made in Mexican Pesos, so there is the possibility of an exchange rate issue, but that is understood going in. One complication is that Mexico has a capital gains tax on properties, which could result in a large tax bill if your house really appreciated or if these is a major change in the dollar-peso exchange rate. However, Mexico also has an exemption for primary residences (you can claim it once every three years).

You select an agency, sign a listing contract, have showings and put up a “For Sale” sign. Many people don’t stage their properties, but some do. You make an offer, there is some negotiation and counters, and you go “under contract.” You agree on a settlement date, the lawyers (abogados) do their thing and make sure the property is free of liens, not in ejido land (indigenous lands can’t be transferred), nor is it in the federally-protected coastal lands (a legal hangover from way-back-when the government thought the US might invade again, now resolved through a long-duration fideicomiso or bank trust), and –presto–you sell/buy a house.

What’s different? Many expats move down here for life, furnishing their homes after arriving, so it is not uncommon to find properties for sale fully furnished (and by that I mean fully, like silverware and linens and tchotchkes!) You’ll find people buying homes sight unseen, from far away NOB, based on a local friend or agent. Some people put homes up for sale, over-priced, then leave them on the market forever. The cost of maintaining a property here is minimal, so there is little incentive (if you don’t need the cash to buy another property) to do a fire-sale price reduction. Mexico doesn’t have a mortgage system, so you bring cash to the table. Our agent told us on more than one occasion he had faced someone walking in to the settlement office with a suitcase full of pesos. It’s possible to arrange private (i.e., personal) financing but the interest rate runs north of ten percent with a guaranteed year’s interest.

We just started thinking seriously about a new place, mountainside with a lake view, a few weeks back. Then we stumbled on just the right place, which greatly accelerated our efforts. We are midway through the process, having put our home on the market and having recorded a contract to buy the new house. Now we are “on the clock” to sell or arrange financing to complete the purchase. Somewhere in there we need to arrange the settlements, schedule some movers, and do the local move. Oh, and we’re visiting the family & friends in the States twice in the next few months!

If all goes to plan, what changes? We’re going from a small gated community (seventy homes) to an even smaller gated community (thirty homes). We’re moving from the west end of Ajijic and practically on the lake to the centro, but right up against the mountains. Losing a walk to the lakeshore, gaining a million-dollar view and las brisas (breezes). Trading the sounds of the countryside (cohetes and roosters) for those of the village (cohetes and gas trucks), although an out-of-the-way part of the village. We’ll be part way up the mountain and just steps away from the Tepalo trailhead.

Friends always characterize our current, single-storey, two-thousand square foot home as “cozy” and that it is: from the central courtyard you can reach any room in under ten steps. The new place is, well, a little different. It’s six-thousand square feet on three levels (with an elevator), each level the same size as our current home. Judy and I joke that we’re buying the new house just for the main level, and the guest level and garage level are bonus spaces.

Here’s the sales video for our current home:

I’ll update the blog on the move, the closing(s), and especially the new house as things progress!

A Mexican Driver’s License Test

Having recently prepared for this test, even though I was never asked to take it when renewing my licensia, I decided to make a helpful practice test so you can play along at home. Make sure to keep track of whether you guessed the legal or real answers. Enjoy!

This sign indicates:

Don’t go there
Don’t even think of going there
🎵 Don’t stop, believing 🎵
Don’t stop

The legal answer, and the real answer, is (4).

If you see this sign, you should:

Drive no more than 110 miles per hour
Drive no more than 68 miles per hour
Wonder what the difference between kilometers and miles is
Ignore it like everybody else on the road.

The legal answer is (2), the real answer is (4), but let’s face it, you’ll probably do (3).

You stop to let a pedestrian cross the road; he does this toward you. It means:

“¡Muchas Gracias!”
“Talk to the mano, gringo.”
“What’s the modal finger?”
“If I only had my gun!”

There is no legal answer, but the real answer is (1).

The car in front of you has its left turn signal on. It means:

The driver will turn left
The driver is indicating it is clear for you to pass on the left
The driver is a gringo who turned his signal on in 2019
The car only has one working light bulb

Both (1) and (2) are legally correct, but (3) and (4) are also real. Best to ignore the blinking left signal in all cases!

In Mexico, this is:

Likely to occur on any highway
Why you don’t drive at night
Not going to happen where the sign says
All the above

You already know it’s (4).

You come upon this sign. It indicates:

You are approaching a roundabout
You can’t get there from here
We are all part of the circle of life
You do you.

The legal answer is (1), but all answers are equally real.

If the first image means “right turn” and the second image means “left turn,” the third image means:

🎵All my friends know the low rider 🎵
Slowing down or stopping
Left turn but my arm got tired
Look, I can drive with one hand

Legally, (2), but quien sabe?

If you see this sign, you should:

Slow down because there are topes ahead
Slow down because once upon a time there were topes ahead
Slow down because the road has a ditch in it
Slow down for the topless beach

The legal answer is (1), but for God’s sake, just slow down!

This sign indicates:

You are now entering El Paso
Yield
You’re not in Kansas anymore
You took a wrong turn in Albuquerque

(2) is the legal answer; (3) & (4) may also be real.

What does this symbol indicate?

No hat zone
Sombrero only zone
Inspection site ahead
Can you say mordita? Sure, I knew you could.

The legal answer is (3). ‘Nuff said.

In Mexico, this is:

Exemplary helmet-wearing
HOV-4 compliant
Cheaper than a minivan
Everyday, everywhere

Who knows, legally? All four are real!

If you see this view in Mexico, you should:

Look for the hidden tope
Have gassed up earlier
Watch out for cows disguised as tumbleweeds
Check for the motorbike about to pass you on the right

Only (3) is wrong. Mexican cows don’t bother with camouflage.

The cross street you are approaching is ______; you should ______:

One way to the right; turn right only
One way to the right; turn right if that is where you want to go
real; stop and ask for directions
whatever; do you

The legal answer is (1). (2) is a real answer. (4) is always correct. (3) is a trick: you never, never, NEVER ask directions in Mexico. Mexicans want to be helpful. They will offer directions even if (1) they don’t understand you, (2) they don’t know where you want to go, or (3) they don’t know where the destination is.

This shows:

Room for more riders
Mexico invented ride-sharing
Sear belts are theoretically required
Nothing to see here

Probably (2), and long before smart phones!

How did you do? If you tried to keep score, you have already failed! In Mexico, scores are arbitrary and you have missed the point. If you guessed (most of) the real answers, consider yourself ready to drive here.

“Licenses? We ain’t got no licenses. We don’t need no stinkin’ licenses!”

Passing a final test

As we’ve now lived here more than four years (how time flies under a facemask!), Judy and I have experienced most of the peculiarities of expat life in Mexico. And by peculiarities, I mean those little distractions, annoyances, or absurdities that make you go “what the . . . ” before shrugging your shoulders and finishing the thought with “solo en México” (only in Mexico).

There was the driver’s test–on computer–wherein it didn’t matter how we answered, we still passed. The time that we got a red light at customs and got to unpack our entire luggage, one item at a time, and explain what it is and why we have it, which of course coincided with my wife importing a year’s supply of make-up. The time the government refused to reimburse the temporary importation visa for my US car, and wanted me to prove I still had the car in the US, when it had never entered Mexico.

As you may have noticed, these events all involve government bureaucracy. Now, we have had many good stories to tell about visas approved, licenses renewed, taxes paid. But those stories are boring; the fun ones involve the trouble. So many went smoothly, some went poorly . . . and then there was SIMAPA.

SIMAPA stands for the Sistema Municipal de Agua Potable y Alcantarillado (de Chapala), that is the municipal water and sanitation authority. And in my opinion, they are the gold medalist in the bureaucratic olympiad. Before I explain why, it is fair to note that water has a history in Mexico, and that history plays a part. Being an arid country, water has always been a scarce resource. Those who had access to water often used it to control the poor, to seek advantage over rivals, or simply to lord it over those without access.

So as Mexico went through its various wars of independence and revolution, access to water came to be seen by the people as a fundamental right: and so it is, in the Mexican constitution. It is so fundamental that access to water cannot be totally shut off even if the recipient does not pay for it. Water bills are sometimes paid collectively by a home-owners association, and talk to any HOA board and you’ll find stories of owners who haven’t paid water dues for years. You can reduce the flow to some small amount, but you can’t shut it off; and that goes for the government, as well.

Likewise for sewage. If you’re hooked into municipal sewer lines, there’s an initial fee for accessing, and a yearly fee. But here’s the rub: there’s no way to shut the sewage flow off. So again, non-payment is a problem.

Our condominio (roughly, our development) has its own well, so we don’t use SIMAPA for fresh water. But we are hooked up to the municipal sewer lines. Our house was built in 2012, and round about late 2019 our condominio received notice from SIMAPA that, “hey, y’all are hooked up to the sewer lines, but you haven’t paid anything, so please do so.” My wife dutifully took a copy of the e-mail down to the local SIMAPA office, where she explained (in Spanish) that we needed to pay. The ladies working there looked at the e-mail (in English), looked at our address, then explained we didn’t have an account, so we could not pay. At that, they went back to their busy desks. One might assume a municipal authority would be interested in receiving seven years of back payments; one would be wrong (in Mexico).

Time passed and the quarantine hit, and since our sewage kept flowing away, we sort of forgot all about it. Finally we talked with a neighbor who reminded us we were supposed to go to the SIMAPA office and ask to “start an account.” The magic words (in Spanish) were not “pay a bill” but “start an account” and we needed a copy of our identification papers and a copy of our deed. We collected the pesos (in cash, naturally) and all the documents and copies and went back to SIMAPA.

Round Two began as a replay of Round One. We said we needed to start an account, but the SIMAPA ladies checked their online records and assured us we didn’t have an account. Yes, we knew that, but we produced our documentation and they threw up their hands and called the supervisor, who spoke English–up to that point, we had engaged in Spanish. The supervisor reviewed our deed copy and explained it was not an official copy, so we would have to return with an official copy in order to start an account. One might assume a municipal authority would be more interested in collecting now nine years of back payments, and was there really a problem in Mexico with people showing up to fraudulently pay OTHER PEOPLE’S DELINQUENT SEWAGE BILLS? One would be mistaken.

Weeks later, we collected an official deed copy, the pesos, copies of every bill and identification we could muster, extra copies of all these, and went back to SIMAPA for Round Three. We entered the office and cheerfully greeted the SIMAPA ladies; Judy even complimented one woman on her embroidered blouse (smiles all around). We explained that we did not have an account, but we needed to start one and pay our arrears. The SIMAPA ladies quickly checked online and confirmed we did not have an account (*sigh*–an unsettling déjà vu descended on us).

The supervisor reviewed our official deed, then used it just to provide our address to the woman at the keyboard. She began the (apparently) laborious process of opening a new account. Now everybody should have an account, but one felt like this was the first time an account had ever been opened. There was discussion about how to enter the address, how to print the bill, and even (no kidding) how much to charge us. The supervisor even asked us if we had an e-mail from the condominio stating what the charges were for this year! Wasn’t SIMAPA the ones who determined the charges, I thought? I told him “no” initially, but Judy checked her account and did find it.

They proceeded to develop a receipt, but I could see the supervisor and the lady on the keyboard were a little concerned by the size of the bill. It was, after all, for many years, and I am sure they have had some surly customers come in and go ballistic over a large bill. I told them they had approximated the bill for us once before, so we were ready for it, which seemed to alleviate their concerns. I even joked that we only wanted to pay our bill, not purchase all of SIMAPA (I got a little smile for that Dad-joke).

Finally, we paid the bill, got signed originals of the account statement, and went on our way, safe in the knowledge we were no longer sewage outlaws.

Solo en México.

Frames of Reference

Ever take a good hard look at your frames of reference? By that I mean the experiences, education, travel, lifestyle and intellectual pursuits that are not necessarily unique to you, but frame how you process and make sense of what’s going on around you. Some might call them your biases, but I think that’s a little too pejorative: we all have them, so why automatically think of them as negative?

For example, I grew up in a small town in the Midwest. I had a frame of reference that people were basically honest and friendly, schools were competent, the local authorities honest, and opportunities abounded. Americana 101. I also believed large cities were dirty, and people there were rude or potentially violent. Their schools were ramshackle. Their police might entrap you. Their government was corrupt.

I eventually lived in or near big cities, where I confirmed everything I previously held about them! I also learned the big cities were cosmopolitan, held cultural treasures, and had even more opportunities. And small towns could be somewhat provincial; imagine that!

The entire concept of generational cohorts (think “The Greatest Generation” or Baby-Boomers, Gen-Xers, Millennials) involves frames of reference. People who go through the same major events (say WWII) at around the same age tend to develop a common way of thinking. It’s not universal, but it is useful as a way to generalize about them. My grandmother, who survived the Great Depression as a young woman, always kept on hand a large supply of canned goods and other things, and retained a profound distrust of banks. Those characteristics were common among her generation, and persisted long after the cause for them ended: for example, when banks became federally insured.

What about your unconscious frames? If you grew up in the States, you most likely imbibed an English cultural frame. Which does not mean an understanding of English History; good heavens no! Most Americans think The War of the Roses was a 1989 divorce flick. No, I mean an English view of history and culture. France and the French: weak, decadent, presumptuous. Spain and the Spanish: corrupt, untrustworthy, nefarious. Germany and the Germans: autocratic, efficient, and of course Nazis. China and Chinese: inscrutable. India and the Indians: Servile. England and the English: indefatigable, educated, and enterprising. Hmmmmm, one of these things is not like the others! Where did Americans, who originally had little contact with many of these countries, get these stereotypes, some of which were contradicted by early American experience (France and Spain sided with us in the revolution against England)?

Frames are hard to identify simply by introspection; new experiences–or encountering other frames–make it easier. As an expat, I often laugh at some aspects of the US history I once learned: all about Plymouth Plantation and the English colony of Jamestown. Only after living in Latin America did I stop and reconsider that the Spanish settlement of St. Augustine, Florida, was forty-two years old when the English got to Jamestown, and the only reason Jamestown survived was the Spanish decided not to attack it.

As an expat, you bring a lifetime of frames to your new home. Expect police to be well-paid, well-trained public servants dedicated to the rule of law? Government to be efficient and transparent? Law to be impartial? Depending on where you land, maybe, maybe not. The reverse is also true. Where you once might have experienced people judged implicitly by their skin color, you might find those judgments applied to shades, or accents, or even facial structures!

Whether for good or ill, frames exist and affect us everyday. For expats, identifying your frames may be critical to whether you can ever fit in your new community. Change in cultural frames happens slowly, and almost never by external forces (I’m thinking the pacification of Germany and Japan as exceptions that prove the rule). When you come from somewhere else, you’re free to observe, to comment with courtesy, but most of all to respect the new culture. It may welcome you, but you sought it; it didn’t seek you.

What ails America?

It seems like Americans agree on few things these days. Perhaps the one thing almost all Americans agree on is something is wrong in America. Even there, the agreement is only skin-deep: progressives and conservatives have decidedly different opinions on what is wrong, yet agree that something is wrong.

For conservatives, America has lost its moral bearings, forgotten its past, and seems dead set on atomizing into various victim-groups competing for an ever more debt-fueled federal largess. Progressives see a people unwilling to remember its failings, unable to accept new rights claimants, blind to racism, sexism, and ever-greater economic inequality. For the moment, I’m willing to stipulate that both are correct, and at the same time, totally irrelevant. Why? Because both are focused on symptoms, not the problem.

America is unique among nations because it is a nation based on a notion. That notion is a complex mix of individual liberty, collective responsibility, and the right to be left alone. It was heavily influenced by English common law and traditions, and deeply embedded in a Judeo-Christian background. I would characterize that background as America’s Soul. The Founders, from a variety of religious backgrounds, were clear:

Washington: Religion is “a necessary spring of popular government.”
Adams: Leaders “may plan and speculate for Liberty, but it is Religion and Morality alone, which can establish the Principles upon which Freedom can securely stand.” and “Our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”
Franklin: “the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this Truth–that God governs in the Affairs of Men. . . . I also believe that without his concurring Aid, we shall succeed in this political Building no better than the Builders of Babel.”

I am not engaging in the tiresome “is America a Judeo-Christian nation?” argument. I am stating that the notion that is America rests upon a Judeo-Christian heritage, which is now only tenuous. The Deism that animated so many of the Founding Fathers was a Christian heresy (technical term, not derogatory). Their ‘Watchmaker’ God was not Zeus; He only makes sense as a derivative of Yahweh. And that connection is practically lost today.

The notion of America has changed subtly over time. Jefferson foresaw a nation of land-owning farmer-gentlemen. Lincoln envisioned a born-again Republic free from its original sin. Roosevelt sought solidarity among the classes and the birth of a world power. Reagan proclaimed the triumph of that power and renewed personal freedom.

All different, all variations on a theme.

The American people are once again in the process of debating that theme. During our recent visit to the States (grandkids & vaccinations), Gallup released poll data showing, for the first time, Church membership in the United States fell below fifty percent. As recently as the turn of the century, almost seventy percent of Americans belonged to a Church, and the decline since has been precipitous. This is something new: the theme is up for discussion, but so is the background.

The answer is not simply a call to return to the pews (as much as I would welcome that). America experienced a series of Great Awakenings, Protestant revivals that corresponded to various American crises. But today’s problem is not simply the dramatic decline in American Protestantism, but the deeper loss of any American connection to its Judeo-Christian heritage.

“Who cares about religion, anyway, can’t we just live by the Golden Rule?” That rule exists in nearly all religions and cultures, so I would respond with “how has that worked out for the world so far?” Its secular limits are many and obvious: “others” not defined as people, the narcissist who expects to be taken advantage of, the problem of scale. The Judeo-Christian elaboration on the Golden Rule provided means to address these problems, and provided a check on the way we respond to each other’s disagreements. That people at times violated these rules no more invalidates the rules than a murder invalidates the crime of murder.

This all plays out in complex ways, across a spectrum of issues. The First Amendment guarantee of freedom of religion was a rational attempt to avoid favoring one religion over another in order to avoid the religious wars which plagued Europe. Extended today to the relationship between religion and unbelief, it becomes untenable: you can’t interpret law to be neutral to both a positive concept and its denial. This has lead to increasingly complex and contradictory Supreme Court rulings, wherein individuals seek more restrictions on religious activities and various faiths seek more and more exemptions from existing law.

Shorn from the Christian dictum to “care for your neighbor (and who is your neighbor?),” conservatives feel free to ignore family separations and leave the old and sick vulnerable to pandemia. Progressives discover a new Gospel. In their telling, Jesus says to the rich man, “Go, support a huge government program for the poor, use the right #hashtag, and you will inherit the Kingdom of God.”

Science advances apace, but in what direction? Moral questions of whether we should do something are pushed aside in favor of simple utilitarian answers. Scientists in California and China teamed up to create chimeras: embryos that are part monkey, part human. They claim to be addressing the need for more organs to transplant, and deny any ethical issues. Should we follow this science?

The absence of Christian charity in our exchanges should be obvious: it is why we often immediately question the motives of any who disagree, characterize any transgression as evil (I would say mortal sin), and refuse to offer or accept simple forgiveness. Our American system of government is full of checks and balances, and therefor it requires compromise to function. But now both sides seem more interested in scoring points or dominating, not cooperating.

I could cite a thousand examples, from hate crimes to tax policy to road rage to immigration to, well, you get the point. America is losing, perhaps has lost, its Soul. It wasn’t the fault of any faith, political party or movement. It wasn’t simply the aggregation of a trend by millions of individuals deciding just to sit home and watch the NFL on Sunday. It happened over a long period of time, mostly as a result of neglect: a simple lack of understanding of the role our Soul played in the notion of the nation of America.

Am I overstating the role of Soul? Look at the Presidents we most admire, and see how they all intuited, and used, our reliance on Soul. Lincoln, himself not a Christian, was the greatest practitioner: calling on God time and again, citing our better angels, readily pulling memorable quotes from the Bible. Roosevelt’s “nothing to fear” line directly mirrors “Be not afraid” while he characterized the New Deal as “the path of faith, the path of hope, the path of love.” Reagan constantly borrowed the optimistic view characteristic of Christianity.

As Lincoln so well put it, “‘A house divided against itself cannot stand.’. . . I do not expect the Union to be dissolved – I do not expect the house to fall – but I do expect it will cease to be divided.” Americans face a choice: what is to be our Soul? There has to be an underlying principle to our notion of a nation, one that all Americans can accept. Just as not all 18th Century Americans were Protestants, our new Soul need not be the creed for every American, but it must be accepted by all.

I recently watched an entertaining debate between Alex O’Connor, a well-followed British atheist who runs The Cosmic Skeptic YouTube channel and Bishop Robert Barron, the prolific Catholic apologist of the Archdiocese of Los Angeles and Word on Fire.

Two hours long, and with some high-fallutin’ words!

During the debate, O’Connor noted that as an atheist, he has an advantage in that he need not put forward a rival worldview, but only need point out inconsistencies in the faith-view; the onus was on those who believe. This is absolutely true in such a debate, but I believe the opposite pertains in the argument over America’s Soul. There, the existing connection (to Judeo-Christian beliefs) has been challenged, so the onus is on the challengers: what comprehensive, attractive and feasible concept do you propose?

If we were a nation based on race or ethnicity, this discussion would be unnecessary. But as a nation based on a notion, we must not only have the discussion, we must come to a conclusion. Arguing against the Judeo-Christian background is not enough; in the end, what holds US together?