Of course, the WaPo writer couldn’t help put a political comment in the article, quoting the mayor (that would be Presidente) of San Miguel de Allende saying, “Despite the fact that Donald Trump insults my country every day, here we receive the entire international community, beginning with Americans, with open arms and hearts.” Looks like no topic can be discussed without covering the Trump angle. And just as inevitably, the comments section (I know, I know, NEVER read the comments section!) was full of MAGA fanatics with useful comments like “if Mexico is so great, why are 100 million Mexicans trying to come here?” Sigh.
The bulk of the article had useful data on the trend. It seems to be driven by three sources. First, there are those 10,000 baby boomers retiring every day, and they have to go somewhere, and they don’t have much in retirement savings, and Mexico is cheap. Next are the numerous (600,000+) children of Mexican immigrants who were born in the States and have dual citizenship; some are returning to Mexico. Last, there are younger people who have internet-enabled work, and they (sometimes with family in tow) can live anywhere, and they choose Mexico.
How many total, and of each group? Nobody knows. Mexico has only a rudimentary capability to track arrivals and departures. Like the US, they do a good job at airports, not so much anywhere else. Mexico is implementing a more thorough system which would also work at the land/sea borders, but perhaps mañana. Mexico estimates 800,00; the US embassy in Mexico City says 1.5 million. The embassy estimate is probably based on STEP enrollments (NOTE: if you are an American expat living in Mexico, go online at the link and enroll in STEP; it helps the State Department keep track of you in case of emergency/natural disaster), so even that figure is probably an undercount.
Where are they? They are all over, but the largest concentrations are in Puerto Vallarta (35,000) Lake Chapala (20,000) and San Miguel (10,000). These totals are primarily the retirees and young internet workers; the dual national are spread all over, often based on from where in Mexico their families originally came. PV is a beach city of almost 400,000, and San Miguel has 100,000, so the expat totals there are noticeable but not dramatic. The 20,000 expats around Lake Chapala, a number which swells due to snowbirds, represent almost a third of the Mexican population in the municipality.
The WaPo article focuses on San Miguel de Allende, which has been the “hot” expat destination recently. The article does a good–if brief–job of describing expat activities and challenges. It also points out that the Mexican federal government is starting to take note of the advantages, and implications, of the growing American presence south of the border.
Despite all the negative press and unfortunate political commentary in Washington, Mexico remains both the top tourist destination for Americans (almost 37 million in 2018, and increasing) and the top expat destination. Just think what the numbers would be if the American media didn’t give non-stop coverage to violence and corruption!
It is true that Benjamin Franklin wrote about the two certainties in life (death and taxes), but he probably borrowed the phrase from Christopher Bullock, who wrote n 1716 “Tis impossible to be sure of any thing but Death and Taxes.” While the former is true for all, the latter is particularly true for an American expat.
The US of A is one of a handful of countries which tax your income regardless where you live; others are North Korea, Libya, Eritrea…how many expats do they have? Nearly all Americans face an annual deadline of April 15th, while expats can receive an automatic two month extension. But the taxes (and the interest, and the penalties) all must still be paid.
If you’re earning income from a foreign source as an expat, there is a sizable exclusion, and you can (depending on reciprocity with the country where you live) get credit for foreign taxes paid on your US tax return. If you have a foreign bank or investment account, there is the requirement to notify the Treasury of that account if it (or any combination of assets) exceeds $10,000 USD at any time. That is colloquially called FBAR, an acronym referring to the law which sought to eliminate offshore banking as a means of hiding income. Oh, and if you receive interest on such instruments, there is (of course) another law (FATCA) which the IRS uses to ensure foreign banks report back to them on you!
All this before even considering state taxes. Many expats don’t realize it, but even if you leave to be an expat and never plan to–or just never do–return, you have a US domicile for tax purposes. This is the place you would intend to return IF you ever did: it can be where you left from, where you established residence before you left, where you vote, etc. Your domicile determines whether you owe any state taxes (remember, your federal taxes are a given).
It is true that if you have no property in the US, no connections to same (voting registration, driver’s license), no taxable income, no intent to return, and no real goods that require a will for probate, you may not need to worry about your tax domicile. Yet I know some expats who do have these things, yet think they will somehow escape. Remember, death & taxes!
State governments watch for citizens who receive income in their state but don’t file a return, or who once filed a return and then years later their heirs try to probate a will. Some states will try to claim back taxes and penalties, so be wary.
It is true that some expats fall under the radar and simply go along, not paying taxes, not filing forms, and never get caught. But like so many things, expat taxes are a complicated subject, and one you ignore at your peril. By the way, tax deadline is tomorrow!
“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose” –French proverb (“The more things change, the more they stay the same”)
As I looked at the February calendar, I kept having that nagging feeling I forgot something. Birthday? No. Wedding anniversary? No. Valentine’s day? Covered. Then I realized we passed our second anniversary as expats on February 1st. Last year I did a fairly long post about the aspects of expat life in Mexico which might dissuade someone from trying it. This year I’ll look at things in general that might encourage you to try the expat life.
Tops on my list of reasons to be an expat: excitement. As an expat, you have no reason to be bored…ever. There is an entire new culture with which to become familiar, a new language to learn, new cuisines to eat, different lifestyles to consider, new friends to make, and exotic places to visit (as a local). Depending on where you choose to live, this excitement level can vary from mild (in a community with many expats and a familiar culture) to extreme (truly on your own in a place not known for accommodating foreigners).
Closely related is reason number two: freedom. Folks from NOB consider themselves quite free, thank you very much, but expat life moves one from being free to living free. As an expat, you literally choose outside the lines (we call them borders) and consciously decide to live…wherever. It’s not where you or your parents were born, or where your job is. As with all true freedom, great responsibility abides. Once you become an expat, you can hardly blame anyone else if your new home disappoints: either you weren’t prepared, or you chose poorly, or, well, it’s all on you.
Like great responsibility, “the Dude abides”
Reason number three is education. Everyone who travels internationally quickly learns at least something about different cultures, but expat life is an advanced degree in comparative cultures. I traveled all over the world for work, and I lived overseas (in Germany) for three years. Yet I never understood how overwhelming the consumer culture of the States was until I lived for (now) two years in a developing nation. Sure, I had heard about “keeping up with the Joneses”, but that was for superficial people. When you are bombarded with advertising, chided to work harder and longer to earn more for your comfort, your safety, your family’s well-being, you become inured to another point of view. Now when I visit the States, I marvel at how well consumerism has manipulated people to believe in it at all costs.
Speaking of costs, expat life might be a way to stretch your resources. If you check out YouTube, Instagram, Patreon, et cetera, you’ll see an a modern take on a old phenomenon: the young vagabond. Those of a certain age recall the “Europe on $5 a day” books which enticed young travelers to see the world on a shoestring budget. Nowadays, some young people cut all ties to a “normal life” and travel around just sharing their experiences, supported by those on social media who “click on” their sites. Likewise for expat retirees, there are places where most of the main costs of living (food, housing, transport) are much cheaper, and living well on something like a Social Security check is possible.
Finally, I would add that expat life is a challenge. We all need challenges: it’s why Edmund Hillary climbed Everest, why Willie Sutton robbed banks, why Tom Brady keeps playing football. Of course there are many ways to find a new challenge without leaving your home country, but living somewhere else presents a unique one.
Expat life is not for everyone, and not for all times. As I have noted before, it has its ups and downs. On balance, it’s an option more could consider, if they better understood all their options.
Here’s an update on something I think most Americans, Canadians, and Mexicans may not realize: your passenger rights when flying into, among, or out of the Europe, specifically the countries of the European Union. It (literally) pays to know about this!
Remember, Brexit may change this!
During our extended European trip, we encountered two flight delay/cancellation situations. Both resulted in my applying for compensation from the airlines involved, in addition to being re-booked and given some immediate support for meals.
First, we were flying SAS from Stockholm to Vilnius, Lithuania. This is an offbeat route; on most days, only SAS flies it, and they have two flights a day: one in the morning, one in the afternoon. Seasoned travelers will immediately know where this is going. Since we arrived in Stockholm on a red-eye flight from LAX, we stayed overnight in the airport to board the morning SAS flight. We arrived at the gate and waited. No plane showed up. No crew showed up. More passengers began to fill the gate area. Boarding time came and went. Finally a gate check agent arrived and announced the plane was cancelled due to “crew illness” and we were all being re-booked on the afternoon flight. They gave everyone script which was good for a lunch in the airport, and printed out new boarding passes.
An amazing coincidence: there was just enough room for everyone to fit on the second SAS flight! Back when I was a frequent business traveler in the States, I knew some airlines would avoid flying two half-filled planes by cancelling one flight and re-booking everyone on the second flight. There was little penalty for doing so, and great cost-savings. I am not suggesting this is what happened here, but the important thing is, whatever did happen, it happened in the EU, not in the States. The EU passenger rights provisions applied.
When we got home, I pulled up the SAS website and filled out a simple form, which just required the basic facts of the incident. Within a day, I received a response from SAS customer service indicating yes, the delay was longer than allowed, there were no extenuating circumstances, and based on the flight distance I was entitled to 250 Euros per person in compensation. Note, they already gave us coupons for a meal at the airport, and they re-booked us at no cost. This compensation was over-and-above all that.
The second incident was during our return. We flew Norwegian Air from Madrid to London/Gatwick, connecting there for a flight back to LAX. The flight from Gatwick was scrubbed at the last minute (we were on the runway cleared for take-off when the captain pulled us back off) due to equipment malfunction. The plane was a full 787 Dreamliner, and apparently Norwegian had another flight cancellation at the same time, so this was a customer service nightmare which I already recounted here.
Again, I went to the Norwegian Air website and completed a form. I had re-booked myself and Judy, since waiting for the customer service line was a non-starter. Because I had numerous receipts with this claim (over 500 UK pounds in hotels, meals, and transportation, and my repurchased airline tickets), I had to attach a picture of my original receipts. I also requested 600 Euros each as compensation (the amount allotted for cancelled flights of over 3500 kilometers), and noted in the comments section that equipment failure is not an unforeseeable circumstance, per several European court rulings (thanks, Google!).
I have already received the compensation from SAS. Norwegian has acknowledged my claim, but I am still waiting on their response; I will update this post when I receive it.
So remember, when flying to/from/among the EU, you may have EU passenger rights going for you. Which is nice!
As someone who just completed my first (and probably only) Camino, I want to take advantage of the perspective fresh in my mind to offer some thoughts to those considering taking on their first Camino Frances. I will approach this topic as objectively as possible, and try to note where my experience might have been unique, or what the general lesson is one should draw from my specific experience.
Nice trail; where’s the giant rolling ball?
First and most importantly, do research and training. On the latter, get all your gear, try it out and wear it in. If there is one area in which I would not economize, it is gear. Hike in varying weather, and do a lot of hills, not just up and down a mountain (like we did). Hike several (at least three) days in a row. Yes, there are people who just go and do the Camino. I was 19 once (and stupid), and just went and “did” a marathon. I even finished. It wasn’t fun. Training will make your actual Camino more enjoyable. My take away is there were far more hills than I expected, and far worse trail conditions, neither of which were adequately depicted in maps, guidebooks, or online. The worst trail conditions
Anybody need a rock?
occur on the steepest up and downhill portions, arguing for stronger ankle and sole support than you might otherwise use, and the use of hiking poles. Also consider buying shoes larger than usual to account for swelling of your feet. Make sure you practice whatever shoe/sock/treatment you select to prevent blisters and it works for you over long distances.
As to research, here you have to be careful. The obvious approach is to buy a guidebook and find a Facebook site and join a community like www.caminosantiago.me for info. One thing to remember is that online sites are full of other first-timers like you and Caministas, people who love the Camino. Think about it: those who quit the Camino, or hated the experience, are not hanging around to re-live it online. People who love something tend to overlook its flaws, so you have to take that into account. You can find lots of encouragement online, but also people who will tell you the trails are pretty good, the hills are all manageable, and that there’s always a cafe open in the next little town. They love the camino (which is a beautiful thing); they remember it that way, but they are romanticizing the Camino.
As to a guidebook, the online sites like Gronze or the Camino Pilgrim app are far more current and useful. I had two copies (different editions) of the infamous John Brierly “practical and mystical” guide to the Camino Frances, and they were practically and mystically useless. Mr. Brierly may be the world’s leading Caminista, but his “maps” are full of inaccuracies, which is an unpardonable sin for a guidebook. I only read a few of his “mystic” commentaries, which I found to be of Hallmark greeting card depth. If this works for you, great! His historical coverage was very good to excellent. If you are really dying for more Camino info, borrow an old Brierly edition from a friend or get one out of the library, but do not waste money buying this book, or ounces carrying it.
Consider “why” you are going on a Camino, and be as specific as you can. This may seem silly, but as you walk, you’ll face choices that will require you to revisit the “why?” So you need to have the answer in your pocket. Is it to walk every step from St. Jean to Santiago? To cross the Pyrenees? To be like a medieval pilgrim (more on that soon)? To get in shape? To get away from it all? To find yourself? A combination of these? Figure it out as best you can before you set off on the journey. It will make the decisions easier.
This one may be controversial: start in Pamplona. Why? Because it is easy to get to, it skips some awful trail time and very unpredictable weather, and it is a neat city to spend a day or two getting over jetlag. St. Jean is achingly cute, but hard to get to: right now there is no train (the line is out) and the bus is often oversubscribed. It leaves you to start with the difficult Pyrenees crossing, which can be very inclement: we had 2-3° Celsius, heavy fog, and howling wind on May 3rd! The bomberos rescued two pilgrims there with hypothermia the end of May. If you start at St. Jean, you’ll need to pack for cold weather you may not face for a while and the long downhill into Roncesvalles is prime territory for falls, blisters, and other trouble. It is not worth it, unless your goal requires crossing the Pyrenees (see earlier comment about “why?”)
Very cute
Some related thoughts: yes, the Camino Frances “starts” at St. Jean Pied de Port, but what does that even mean? When you drive somewhere, do you insist on driving to the “start” of the road? It is worth considering what a medieval pilgrimage was like, versus some idealized version we may have today. Pilgrims started from home. They walked because that was the only way to get there: you had to be rich to have a horse, and to keep it fed on such a journey. So don’t make a walking fetish out of their necessity! Do you think a medieval pilgrim turned down a cart ride to the next town? They walked the route of least resistance, begging or offering to work for room and board. The point was not to suffer, because life itself was already full of suffering. The point was to place yourself entirely in God’s hands, either as penance, or in thanksgiving, or in praise, and let whatever happens, happen. Guess what? Many pilgrims died on the way (to the oft quoted “the Camino provides” I always wanted to say “what? an early death?”). So you should probably disabuse yourself of the notion you will be recreating a medieval pilgrimage. It frees you to have your own Camino.
About that phrase “the Camino provides.” Now I know this phrase is shorthand for the spirit of goodwill one encounters on the way, but I think it is a little misleading. The Camino is a route. It is inanimate. It provides nothing. Sometimes, perhaps many times, other people provide help when it is most needed: other pilgrims, hospitaleros, locals. But do not think the Camino will provide. Consider this thought: if you choose not to carry Compeed for your blisters, and you get some blisters, you can sit and wait for help. But if the pilgrims following you all expect the Camino to provide, they will not have Compeed either! So help yourself by preparing with a few key items, which even if you don’t use, you can share. Among these are Compeed, pain reliever, anti-diarrheal, extra water, salt, sugar, cold meds, and antihistamines, and appropriate snacks. Most of these are things you can get at the next farmácia, but if you need an AD now, the next farmácia is always too far!
Try different lodging arrangements for the first two weeks, then select what you like best and schedule out three to four days in advance. Municipal and parochial albergues and donativos are great ways to meet people and save money, but if you want to stay in them, invest in some high quality earplugs or noise cancelling headphones. You will hear snoring the likes of which you never thought possible.
Splurge!
Private albergues, pensions, and hostals cost more and provide some privacy. You may decide to continue mixing it up after the first few weeks; just remember to keep scheduling out your reservations; once you hit Sarria it is essential, due to crowding.
Find an eating rhythm that works for you and Spain. In the smaller towns you can find places which cater more to pilgrim hours; in the big cities not so much in my experience. Many pilgrims get up early (0600) and have a small breakfast, get walking, stop mid-morning for a second breakfast, do lunch around 1330 and then dinner at 1930. Some pilgrim restaurants will serve a pilgrim menu (prix fixe) at lunch, some at dinner. Remember there is a siesta time in the later afternoon when even bars may close, and other hours where only tapas are served. Watch out for when breakfast (desayuno) is served, and especially for Sunday morning, when very little is open.
Consider taking shortcuts of all types. What!? No real pilgrim takes a shortcut: oh, but they did, and still do! Bring too much gear? You can ship it forward from any post office (Correos) in Spain. Have too much stuff to carry up that hill tomorrow? You can ship your backpack forward to the next stop. Notice a route where you are 500 meters from the next town, but the Camino zigs two kilometers to pass a church or Roman bridge? Go straight to the town, if you like.
Worth the extra time
Another even-more controversial idea: use the bigger cities as a way to make up time while extending your city-visit time. Big cities have buses, trains, and taxi routes. As you approach a big city (Burgos or León, for example), catch mass transit going in to avoid hiking the suburbs, and the same on the way out. Take the time you save (which could be as much as a day or two) and stay in the city. It is a shame to walk through a magnificent city like León and hurry through it. Don’t like the repetition of the entire Meseta, or the nasty downhill into Ponferrada? Skip some or all. Again this might seem like heresy, but do what fits in with your schedule and personal goals, not what everybody else does or a Camino purist suggests. You will hear people say “it’s your Camino” but that phrase sometimes comes with an implied “tut-tut” when what you have decided to do does not meet with the other person’s ideal Camino. Here is the plain fact: everyone walks their own Camino, and no one walks the same Camino twice. It is just “the way” to where you are going. Be confident in your choices.
Know what weather most affects you, and prepare to mitigate it. I can easily handle hot weather and rain; I find cold rain and wind unbearable. You can’t prepare equally for all the weather possibilities, especially in the Pyrenees and Galicia. For the outlier weather, you might consider rummaging in the “give-and-take” box at your albergue. Take something, wear it as needed, get it washed, and either drop it off or return it.
Ugliness wins!
Fight the urge to leave behind something about you on the Camino. Graffiti is ugly, tasteless, and illegal regardless of what it says. Some like to place rocks on everything. Making a stone-pile arrow to point the way? Very cool! Piling rocks on every route marker? No. Sometimes those markers are the only place to sit down for miles! You will see some nice permanent memorials to recent pilgrims who died on the way; others add pictures and papers and toys from their loved ones to these memorials, which is
Let it be
touching, but eventually results in a wet pile of rubbish. Some pile up rocks as little altars; perhaps they anticipate small druids coming behind them? Here’s a suggestion: if you have this urge, find some larger flat rocks and make a seat. I guarantee you pilgrims coming along behind you will bless you everyday. Better still, use your sharp ended poles to pick up trash; carry a spare bolsa with you and dump it when you take breaks.
On a related but delicate topic, you will probably do as bears do and poop in the woods at some point. Some pointers: do not stop, drop, and roll. First, identify a relatively private spot. Second, use the heal of your shoe to kick (back and down) a small dent in the ground: it might take several kicks. Aim and fire. If your aim was bad, use your TP to get your product in the hole. Place the TP there too, then kick dirt back over the hole and move on. I guess this word hasn’t gotten around, based on the elephant burial grounds I stumbled into off the Camino!
The fewer clothes you bring, the more you will rely on laundry. This means to keep your pack light, you become more vulnerable to whether (your next stop has laundry services) or weather. Sure, under some circumstances you can just wear the same clothes again, but do you really want to? We had cold, wet weather nearly the entire month of May. We could always hand wash our clothes, but that meant wearing clean wet clothes in the morning. Sometimes the dryers worked, sometimes not. In the bigger towns, we usually found a laundromat, which was always clean, well-equipped, and cheap. I strongly encourage pilgrims to consider this option, as it only cost about an hour of time and six Euros for warm, clean, dry laundry.
Finally, a comment about pain, suffering, and discouragement. You’ll encounter all of them on the camino. Some suggest this is the heart of the Camino, this is how you discover something about yourself: they did. If that is the case for you, I can assure you, the Camino will indeed provide. You don’t need to seek pain out, or add to it. One of the main lessons I re-learned is we all have our limits, and they are all different. When well-meaning enthusiasts are telling you to just keep going, keep carrying, it’s not that bad, remember all those pilgrims who didn’t make it, back then or now. Yes, push yourself, but recognize your limits, and finish your Camino, according to your goals, under your rules. Buen camino!
Here’s a collection of thoughts I had walking in the rain across Spain. I was too tired most nights to flesh them out and post them, but they lingered in my mind, so here they are now. If they are half-baked, put them back in the microwave for a few minutes and see if they make more sense.
Extroverts probably enjoy the Camino more then introverts. Introverts can certainly find quiet time and walk alone, but for extroverts, the Camino Frances is like an extended, adult summer camp. Every 100 meters or so, there is a brand new friend you can share your life story with, and who will share theirs with you! Look, we already have something in common: we are on the Camino! Extroverts can overshare with little worry, pledge to be BFFs, then move along to the next fellow pilgrim. That has to be very attractive to extroverts!
Oooh, friends!
The single biggest variable in whether you will enjoy your Camino is this: do you really like the great outdoors? Yes, I know, Captain Obvious talking here, but in all the reading and research I did before the Camino, I never saw it put that way. You’re spending 8-12 hours outside every day. If you are an outdoors person, you will find a way to love the heat, the cool, the rain , the fog, the mud, the dry, the pollen, the manure, and (ahem) eliminating in public. If you’re not such a person, these things will wear on you. Simple as that.
I love puddles!
John Brierly of guidebook fame had a social media post the other day where he was defending his inclusion of “mystic” guidance in his books because he feared that pilgrims were losing the notion of pilgrimage as something more than a hike. I am sympathetic to his view, but he misses the religious forest for the mystic trees. Would-be pilgrims come primarily from a variety of advanced, industrialized societies that are increasingly secular. You can’t take someone steeped in non-religious or anti-religious culture and give them a few mystic thoughts for their walk in the woods and get a “pilgrim.”
99.9% of the Bicigrinos (bike pilgrims) are wonderful people who ring bells, shout “buen Camino” and share the trail well. Those that weave through the walkers at 30 kph on treacherous downhill sections without warning? Saint James would like a word with you.
Northern Spanish cuisine, in which I include Basque and Galician, is very simple but delicious: high quality ingredients without many additional spices or sauces. It restored my faith in peppers as something not to be feared, just enjoyed.
Speaking a little Spanish goes a long way on the Camino. Just mastering a combination of por favor, buenas-, gracias, ay-perdon, lo siento, and donde will help immeasurably.
Some pilgrims (apparently) carry things like Sharpie’s in order to write something profound and permanent in public. Don’t. You are not profound, even after a pitcher of sangria. Nor are you witty, or original, or encouraging, or motivating, or appreciated, when you scrawl or scratch something on a fence, tree, rock, or whatever. Just walk, por favor.
No.
How many more pilgrims can the Camino Frances sustain before it becomes a Disneyfied charicature of a pilgrimage? The numbers keep increasing, and the way from Sarria at times resembles the walk toward a football match from a distant parking lot. It is ok for now, but continues to grow at a steady rate.
The Camino will redefine the meaning of the word “hill” for you. Mountains will still be the same, but from now on, when someone says “there’s a hill” you will go all Crocodile Dundee with a “that’s not a hill, this is a hill” story from the Camino.
I got very angry several times out on the Camino: not just mad, but downright seething. It was always due to bad information provided to me, that led in turn to either bad advice or bad decisions, which could have been dangerous for my wife and me. I prayed about why this was happening. Certainly God didn’t want me to accept this with equanimity (“hey, we could have been seriously injured, but no harm, no foul!”). No, this was righteous anger, and it was our very own pilgrim St. James, one of the sons of thunder, who asked Jesus to call lightning down on evil-doers. In a moment of clarity, the Holy Spirit inspired this thought in me: my righteous anger was a tiny taste of that which God experiences every day, as we promise to do better and then fail Him time and again. His justice would demand severe punishment, but his Divine Mercy is fathomless and unrelenting, if we only ask for it. So He forgives us. My anger was just a prelude to learning how to be more merciful, just as God is merciful.
Angry like this guy
One of the big mysteries of the Camino is “will the Botafumeiro swing when I reach Santiago?” Here is a good clue. Around 1030, go to the museum and get a Pilgrim’s ticket and walk around. When you get to the 2nd level, the cloisters, walk around the courtyard to where the entrance to the Sacristy is (it is marked, but with a Prohibida sign). If there’s a brazier out in the corner of the courtyard and it has charcoal heating up, the Botafumeiro will swing at the end of Mass. You can use the side entrance from the museum to go directly into the cathedral and see the Botafumeiro, then return to the museum.
Look, a clue!
I will have one final Camino post, a wrap-up for those considering doing the Camino.
Not a post about Mexico’s intentions toward the western United States, but about the more mundane topic of reclaiming my dining room from mosquitoes.
Readers may recall that we have a terraza adjacent to our living room, which we intended to use–and outfitted as–our dining room. It counts as living space in Mexico, because it has a roof, even if it does not have walls (the concept known as outdoor living). I recall a comment on a local internet board mentioning the problem of mosquitoes, but I also recall responding “we haven’t seen any yet.”
As time passed and the rainy season commenced, los mosquitos arrived. They didn’t really bother me that much, since apparently I don’t taste good to them. Still, we live in the tropics, so any sudden urge to scratch an itch makes one wonder “does this one signal the start of (insert tropical disease here)?” Unfortunately, my dear wife is considered a delicacy in Mosquitoland, so very quickly our dining room (and our famous hanging couch) became terra incognita. “Here bee Dragons”- or at least mosquitoes.
Getting ready for another rainy season, we committed to reclaiming the terraza. We hired a local firm (ViLuMa) that does screens/doors/etc. to screen in our terraza, using a screen which should withstand my dog’s attempts to hurl himself outside at birds, or claw his was back in when we don’t respond quickly enough.
We had an estimate of $1,500 USD and two days of labor. The price held fast, but of course, it took seven days. The team did precise, quality work, so I am not complaining. Here are the before/after shots.
Three seconds left in the game. USC had the ball at the Irish two-yard line; they were down by four, so this next play was the last one, for all the marbles.
I was the strong safety for the Irish defense. When the Trojans broke the huddle, I found the Tight End and followed him to the wide side of the field. As their Quarterback barked his signals, I read the alignment: if it was a pass, I had the End in man-to-man coverage; if a run, I was to force the action back toward the middle. The Trojan backfield was a two back set. Just before the snap, their right fullback went in motion left, to my side of the field, and I knew instantly it was “student body left,” a play they were famous for, a play which made Heisman-winners out of scoundrels like Simpson and Garrett and White.
The Tight End was cracking back on our right defensive end, confirming a run. As I dashed into the backfield, the fullback veered to my left to block the outside linebacker. It was now just me and the ball carrier: tackle him and win the game, miss and lose. As I set my feet and started moving forward, he leaned to his right, toward the shortest route to the end zone. I hesitated, and he pivoted on his right leg and started to sprint to his left, to the open grass, to the corner and the flag. I accelerated toward him: all I had to do was keep my head up, wrap him up, take his momentum wide and ride him out of bounds for the win.
Just as I was closing in on him, I felt the unmistakable crunch of contact as someone hit me from behind, low, in the back of the legs. Must be the wide receiver cracking back on me! Dammit! “What Happened?” I exclaimed.
My wife’s distressed voice answered, “I fell.” Wait a minute. No gridiron, no Touchdown Jesus, no soft green grass. Just my wife sprawled in the middle of a cobblestone street, having tripped just as we began day three of this week’s hiking.
(The culprit, left, now safely secured; the hook, right)
As Judy turned the corner at the entrance to our development, the loop of her right hiking shoe caught the hook on her left, effectively tying her feet together. She fell like a tree in a derecho, rolling into the back of my legs as she did. Despite having no military training, she executed a perfect three point landing fall. Unfortunately, the points she chose to land on were her knee, her wrist, and her face.
(Have you stopped beating your wife yet, Señor?)
I helped her up and we double-timed back to our casa for some first aid. To her credit, she insisted our returning to the hike, and she completed the entire 13 mile hike with pack, despite an assortment of bandages and ointments. Based on her performance, I am thinking of adopting the French Foreign Legion saying as our Camino motto: “March or Die!”
We have some rest coming, and we’ll make sure those loose shoestrings are secured next time.
Back to my daydream. Before I snapped to, I am sure I saw the ref throw the flag for clipping. This wasn’t the Coliseum, after all.
We are less than 50 days out from the Camino Frances. This means we are reviewing our packing lists trying to cut ounces wherever we can (do I really need deodorant?), doing some strategic thinking (how often do we stay in albergues, that is hostels, and when do we opt for hotels), and focusing our training on very specific challenges.
Parts of our flat hikes along lakeside…
look like the Camino!
This is no time to exhaust oneself with a rash of extra training, perhaps causing an injury in the process. Last week, we practiced doing back-to-back hikes. The first was a 14 mile flat hike with full packs; the next day we did 7 miles, full packs, but up the nearest mountain. This week, we will string together three straight days, probably two long flat hikes sandwiched around a mountain climb.
No narrow switchbacks like this on the Camino
We had our first stress injury last week: Judy noticed a small blister when we came down off the mountain, and said her big toe felt tender. Later that night, it began to throb, and we feared she had bruised the toenail. If you are a runner or regular hiker, you know what is coming: she will probably lose the toenail. It is not as bad as it sounds, but still nobody likes to lose a toenail. Runners experience it all the time, I am told–in my three decades of running, I never lost one, but I did have my little toe smashed one time and lost half the nail. For hikers, it usually results from a long downhill trail, where your toes constantly slide forward in a loose shoe and bang the toe box, bruising the toe, then losing the nail. Judy thought she didn’t get her hiking shoes tied tightly, and our feet have not swelled yet, so our hiking shoes are a size bigger than our feet. Put it all together and you lose a toenail.
Otherwise, our training has been progressing well. We have not had a problem with hydration, pack weight, food, or bathroom breaks. All of these things have to be carefully monitored during the Camino. We did practice one other Camino pitfall: alcohol. After climbing down the mountain last week, we stopped at our favorite restaurant (Gosha’s) for lunch. They were advertising a margarita special: 45 pesos ($2.25 USD) each. Well, we were thirsty as well as hungry, so we ordered the special and downed a margarita. As we lingered over our meal, the waiter asked if we would like another? Now Judy has a one-drink limit, but “Of course”, I responded; Judy agreed with me (probably the effect of the hike and the first margarita). So we both had a second.
After we paid our bill, I got up and put my pack on. Judy, too stood up, wavered, then said “oh, I shouldn’t have had a second margarita.” Well, we walked the two miles home hand-in-hand, mostly to ensure Judy did not wander from the hiking trail into the adjacent roadway. It was an entertaining experience, and when we got home she had a great siesta and awoke none the worse for the experience. Lunch with beer or wine is often a staple on the Camino; I will certainly indulge (professional drinker, closed course, don’t try this at home), but I bet Judy won’t…unless we see a margarita special!
As I pass the first anniversary of life as an expat, I am tempted to review the good and bad aspects of it. If you read my blog, you already know I find the balance tilted to the positive side. However, I have noted several times that expat life is not for everyone. So what are the reasons that would make expat life–especially expat life in Mexico–disagreeable for the average American?
The top reason on my list would be healthcare. It is at the top not because one cannot find quality doctors and hospitals: in Mexico, you can. Rather, it tops the list because healthcare is so critically important to one’s physical and financial well-being that if you have any doubt about your situation in either case (financial- or health-wise), you must question whether you’re expat material. If you don’t have portable health insurance, won’t qualify for another nation’s healthcare, don’t have money to buy insurance locally or in reserve to cover health emergencies, expat life may not be for you.
Likewise, if you have serious health problems, you want to think twice about expat life. Medical culture, like all culture, varies in every country. Figuring out what your doctor really means, regardless of whatever he or she says (and in what language), is difficult enough when you are familiar with the culture. Levels of care vary, not because one system is more or less caring, but because different systems have different views on what is appropriate. Any friction in healthcare is major friction, because it is literally a matter of life or death. Failing health (coupled with an inability to cover escalating costs) is the leading reason expats return home.
Second on the list is family matters. How close and frequent are your relationships with your immediate or extended family? If you live in the same town as your extended family, and you get together several times a week and are always available to one another, you may find expat life to be too disconnecting. One must be very honest about this issue. If I was still working (which would have been necessary were I not an expat), I would be limited in the time I could spend with my grandchildren. Expat life freed up my time, which enables more and better time with them. However, my family has always been all over the map (literally), and even my closest grandchild was a solid hour away from my last home near DC. Here in Mexico, I am a four hour plane ride away from them, but my calendar is clear, so I can drop by pretty easily (like we did over the MLK holiday this year). In the meantime, we skype on a regular basis. I am blessed that my immediate family has few (almost none, really) health or personal issues. If you need that close daily family interaction, or have family members who need your personal attention, expat life may be a bridge too far.
Next would be your flexibility. There are a few hardy souls who thrive in the absence of any routine; you usually see them on adventure TV shows. Most of us need some level of routine, or certainty, to be comfortable. As an expat, you are inherently out of your comfort zone. Can you adapt to it? It comes in all shapes and sizes: when I go the local Walmart (familiar), they may be no potato chip brands or flavors I recognize. A left turn signal can mean almost anything. Russet potatoes are difficult to find. You should say “buenos dias” to people you pass on the street, and that changes to “buenos tardes” at noon and “buenas noches” after dark. Shrimp cocktail is a form of cold, spicy soup. Asking for directions is asking for trouble. Butter contains no salt, and there is no caramel. Mañana means sometime.
None of these points is important, but collectively they represent a lot of turbulence. As an expat, there are times when you start to think you are building a routine, and then you’re hit with several changes all at once. If you aren’t flexible enough to change with such challenges, you may find expat life unsettling.
Someone’s villa grande is just around the bend
How do you feel when you are confronted with abject poverty? Poverty exists side-by-side with wealth in Mexico. Begging is not considered a sign of poor character: some people are just worse off, and they beg to make ends meet. If you go out where there are groups of people (like the market, a shopping center, a soccer match) you will run into people begging, children selling fruit or junk or trinkets, or perhaps a handicapped person offering to wash your car. If you say no, they leave you alone. No one gets angry about their entreaties. If you give them some money, they will be very grateful; around the corner will be more of the same. You have to pick and choose where you drop your coins, and saying no is never fun. If this scene pulls too hard on your heartstrings, maybe you’re not an expat.
Closely related to the poverty issue is, surprisingly, pets (especially in Mexico). I have heard more than one expat lament the way dogs are treated here: some folks become so upset they return home. Dogs are just a useful appliance here; they are not pets in the North American concept (I rarely even see cats here). One sees roof-dogs which live out in the hot tropical sun with the sole purpose of alerting owners if anyone approaches the property. Street dogs are common, lazing alongside the roads, many limping from a close encounter of the vehicular kind. Seeing a dog’s body in the road is not at all unusual. As long as a dog performs a useful task, they are given some minimal shelter and food; if they dont, they are set loose. Local governments wait until they get complaints about dog packs, then they set out poison to eliminate the problem. As a lifelong dog owner, it is heartbreaking, but I also realize many Mexicans do not have the resources to spend on pets as luxury items. If sad dog stories are too much for you, you’ll need to toughen up to be an expat.
These are the top five facets of expat life which make it something not everyone can embrace (in my opinion). As an expat, I can attest to the fact that many confront these situations and negotiate them successfully to become expats. Some expats choose to be snowbirds, spending colder months down here and warmer months back home. This helps address the expat challenges I mentioned, but also adds the cost of maintaining two residences.
As I said at the beginning, I think the positives outweigh the negatives. With more and more baby boomers retiring every day, we are seeing a significant increase in new arrivals lakeside. I hope they are considering the challenges I have discussed above; if not they face more than a little disappointment.
a runner or regular hiker, you know what is coming: she will probably lose the toenail. It is not as bad as it sounds, but still nobody likes to lose a toenail. Runners experience it all the time, I am told–in my three decades of running, I never lost one, but I did have my little toe smashed one time and lost half the nail. For hikers, it usually results from a long downhill trail, where your toes constantly slide forward in a loose shoe and bang the toe box, bruising the toe, then losing the nail. Judy thought she didn’t get her hiking shoes tied tightly, and our feet have not swelled yet, so our hiking shoes are a size bigger than our feet. Put it all together and you lose a toenail.
property. Street dogs are common, lazing alongside the roads, many limping from a close encounter of the vehicular kind. Seeing a dog’s body in the road is not at all unusual. As long as a dog performs a useful task, they are given some minimal shelter and food; if they dont, they are set loose. Local governments wait until they get complaints about dog packs, then they set out poison to eliminate the problem. As a lifelong dog owner, it is heartbreaking, but I also realize many Mexicans do not have the resources to spend on pets as luxury items. If sad dog stories are too much for you, you’ll need to toughen up to be an expat.