Preparation – Page 5 – Pat the Expat

Musings from the 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.

Reclaiming territory

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.

Here are the money shots:

Breakfast:

Siesta:

A Walter Mitty injury update

It was bright and sunny and I was day-dreaming…

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.

Three in a row, and a Toe

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.

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!

Why not be an expat?

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.

Getting Registered

Over the past few weeks, I had the opportunity to complete some of those little administrative tasks with which we are all familiar, and which are just as important for an expat.

First, I had to renew my car’s registration. This proved fairly easy and cost only $500 MXP ($ 25 USD) since I got a 10% discount for paying right away. Such discounts are common in Mexico, including on things like speeding tickets and property taxes. One small complication with the process was that the Mexican government now demands you provide an RFC # when registering/renewing your car. RFC stands for Registro Federal de Contribuyentes. It is a way for the government to better track people for tax purposes; you need an RFC for most major transactions (buying/selling cars, houses, etc.). This is especially important in Mexico, where so much business is done “off the books” to avoid taxes. You can get an RFC number online through a fairly easy process; once you have it, it stays with you as long as you are a resident. I have one last administrative requirement for my automobile: sometime before April, I’ll need to take the car in for an emissions inspection.

Finally, I completed the transition from Residente Temporal to Residente Permanente. I paid a fee and filled out the documents attesting to my resident address and my retirement income. The last step was to get fingerprinted (again), and now I too (along with my dear wife) have an official green card issued by the Mexican government. What does it mean? I never have to update or renew my status–hence the term permanente. I use the “Mexicanos” lines when entering or leaving the country instead of using the “foreigners” lines. What else? I must pay taxes if I make any income in Mexico (which was always the case, but I won’t be making any income, so whatever). I am eligible for Mexican health care (Seguro Popular or IMSS), and I can apply for a Mexican capital gains tax exemption if I ever sell my casa. I can’t vote here, and I can no longer own a foreign-plated vehicle in Mexico. That’s the deal.

The biggest advantage with Resident Permanente is not having to renew your status or pay anything ever again. While the Mexican federal government sometimes changes the rules and charges for tourists and temporary residents, it leaves permanentes alone. Some expats go all the way to getting Mexican citizenship, but as far as I can see that only lets you vote. I’m sick enough of politics in my home country to not want to engage in it here!

A Camino Day (Proposed)

Some of you may be wondering what that 800 kilometer hike across northern Spain will look like. From a geographic perspective, it starts in the Pyrenees mountains, crosses the Basque country and heads into the meseta or Spanish plains, and ends in Galicia. Much of it crosses fertile cropland, including vineyards, with about three mountain ranges. Along the way we’ll pass through numerous small villages along with the cities of Pamplona, Logroño, Burgos, León, and Santiago de Compostela. Some of the way is roadside, some farm trails, some traditional hiking routes. But what does an average day look like? Based on the preparatory research I have done, here is what pilgrims tell me.

The pilgrim’s day starts early, perhaps 6 am, especially if you stay at an albergue or hostel. Most albergues insist everyone leaves by 8 am so they can clean for the next night’s pilgrims; yes, you can only stay one night in each albergue. Breakfast may be available at or near the albergue, or at least some coffee. Most pilgrims want to get on the road before the heat of the day, and many albergues are first-come, first-served, so there can be a little bit of an Oklahoma landrush in the morning to get an early start. One of the banes of pilgrims in the the albergues is the rustling sound of other pilgrims, which may start as early as 4 am, as they try to get packed and depart.

Tortilla de papas, almost always available

Whenever the time comes, breakfast is probably continental, such as a pastry with coffee. Lunch is often a sandwich called a bocadillo, which is some form of ham on french bread. Some push lunch back until 1-3 pm, perhaps coinciding with arriving at the next stop’s albergue, but others keep a lunch break around noon. Most pilgrims hope to get in to their next albergue or inn sometime in the afternoon. After check-in, you find your bed/room, unload, shower and switch into your casual dinner outfit, and wash your hiking gear from that day. Next comes some quiet time to siesta (my favorite), read, catch up on social media, buy some trail food for the next day, or fix any physical issues (blisters?).

Some towns have a pilgrim’s mass at night, and many restaurants will serve a pilgrims menu of three courses (soup/pasta, meat, dessert) and vino de casa for a nominal fee (E10). After socializing with fellow pilgrims, most retire early for the evening. This might mean sleep, but it might not, as the cacophony of snoring, people rustling in their backpacks, and the usual comings-and-goings can make sleep a challenge. Some pilgrims only stay in albergues; others only use hotels and private rooms.

Wake up and do it all over again. For 30-45 days.

Now of course there are the many hours of time spent walking, which can also be an opportunity for prayer, sight-seeing, introspection, or meeting one’s fellow pilgrims. That gets to the “why” of the Camino, and I will return in a future post to answer it.

Camino Gear

As promised, here is my follow up post on the gear we plan to take when we walk the Camino Frances from St. Jean Pied-de-Port (France) to Santiago de Compostela (Spain) in May.

First, here’s the photo layout:

Now here is what you see. Starting in the upper left corner (and moving clockwise) is my pack, an Osprey Kestrel 48. This is an overly-large pack for the Camino, but it fits me well, and if we need extra room I have it. On top of it is a Venture ID bag for our passports and camino credencial, the document which identifies us as pilgrims and gets us into albergues. Next is a Melt travel roller, a lightweight device for stretching; on top is my Diamond red light headlight, and below it is a pair of Keen travel slippers.

Moving due right is a soap/wash solution and the Brierley guidebook, and slightly right and up from that is a large travel towel (folded) with a pair of walkie-talkies. Above that is my emergency caffeine kit (24 packets of starbucks instant coffee), which is all that is standing between me and disaster if Judy needs a coffee fix some morning!

In the upper right corner is an Osprey 2 liter water bladder which fits into my pack with a drinking tube right to my face. Below left is a lightweight set of stuff sacks, a cocoon brand mummy liner (sleeping bag liner, no bag), a set of lower leg protectors (keeps rain/pebbles out of our boots) and an electric travel adapter. In the lower right corner are my Cascade adjustable hiking poles and gloves.

To the left is my lightweight, collared travel shirt and a long-sleeve Under Armour shirt, with my toiletries bag on top of them. Next left is a pair of running shorts which double as swim trunks, then my other detachable hiking pants and short-sleeve shirt. Curling back in to the center are two more pairs of quick-drying travel underwear and two sets of travel socks and silk liners. Above that is an over-the-pack rain poncho, and to the right is a Cool-rag brand towel, a travel utensil kit, and a blacklight flashlight.

And that’s it.

Not pictured are a small Android tablet and phone, and one set of gear I will be wearing (t-shirt, Keen hiking shoes, merino wool socks with silk liners, detachable hiking shorts/pants, quick-dry travel underwear).

Most of the gear is self-explanatory. We bought lightweight, quick-drying equipment because (1) we’re carrying everything, and (2) you wear one pair, wash those when you are done for the day, then wear the other pair. We tried to get gear which is multi-purpose, like the detachable shorts or the running shorts/swim trunks.

Some things are unique. The Cool Rag is a towel which stays cool and moist in its container: on hot days you pull it out to cool off. The black light is great for identifying bed bugs, a nemesis when staying in dormitories. We found Melt rollers a necessity to recover from hard workouts. The headlamp is great for early morning (dark) starts, and can be used inside an albergue in the red light mode (without disturbing other sleepers).

We probably don’t need the 2 liter water bladder, and on some legs I won’t fill it, but it is a nice emergency item for us (or other pilgrims).

In yet another follow-on post, I’ll cover what I anticipate a camino day to be like.

Camino veterans, or those who are just meticulous planners, if you see something missing, please ask about it in the comments section!

Training down the homestretch

We’re now under 90 days out for our departure for the Camino Frances to Santiago de Compostela, so it is time to get serious about training. We have done once- or twice-a-week walks thus far, getting up early or walking under the hot tropical sun to experience different conditions. We have gone as far as 24 kilometers carrying our loaded packs and wearing our gear.

After a few weeks off for Christmas and a trip to the States, we started back in yesterday with a 8 mile mid-morning hike. No sooner had we left our development then we found ourselves heading against the herd, literally.

It was difficult getting back into the swing of hiking: neither Judy nor I felt very motivated this hike. We ran into our friend Lisa who stopped to talk, and even she noticed we didn’t look very motivated (good assessment). By the time we took a lunch break, we began feeling better, and the last few miles felt like old times. We are very tired for such a short walk, but I think we will recover our form rapidly as we increase the frequency and duration of our training hikes.

Part of my problem was probably overpacking. I have been gradually increasing the weight in my pack, well beyond what I will actually carry, so that the hike seems easy in comparison to our training walks. However, I did not keep track of how much I was adding: I would just see something fairly heavy but still compact, and I would think “that would make great pack filler!” so I would throw it in the pack. After yesterday’s hike, I went back and unloaded and weighed everything, and I was up to 25 lbs. Seasoned Camino pilgrims suggest never carrying more than 10% of your body weight, which would give me an 18 lb target. Seven pounds may not sound like much, “but ounces make pounds, and pounds make pain” is the mantra.

Keeping your pack weight to a bare minimum is critical for an 800 kilometer hike. I will detail what we’re bringing, and why, in a follow-on post.

Back-n-Forth

We’re currently in the States on a quick visit to see our kids and grandkids. Unlike our last marathon car trip NOB, we are flying this time. Going back to visit family or friends is a perennial aspect of expat life, and the ready availability of air routes via Guadalajara’s Miguel Hidalgo International airport (GDL) provides many opportunities to do so. Landing rights and routes between the US and Mexico were strictly controlled for a long time, and only recently began to loosen up, so new options are constantly evolving.

The main routes from GDL to the States are United Airlines via Houston, American Airlines via Dallas-Fort Worth, and Delta via Atlanta. Many airlines fly directly to Los Angeles and Mexico City, which provide other alternatives. New direct routes to New York are popping up, and the advent of low cost carriers is making a real difference.

One thing I have learned is the need to consider all the alternatives, including unusual routes and special sales, when planning a trip. My favorite travel planning site is Rome2Rio.com, which provides a comprehensive set of options for any trip. It shows options for driving, bus, rail, or air, and has flight data even on carriers like Ryanair and SouthWest, which often don’t show up on air search sites. The site only gives you an estimate on the costs, but you can immediately check those estimates with links to the actual carriers.

For example, during this trip we’re using old accumulated frequent flyer miles to get from GDL to Cincinnati, then Southwest (via their most recent fare sale) to Baltimore, Southwest again from there to Cancun before returning to Guadalajara on AeroMexico. The savings from the Southwest tickets (versus a normal fare via the routes I mentioned earlier) is large enough to let us stay a few days at a resort in Playa del Carmen! I also noticed very cheap direct fares to/from Europe via Cancun, due to the tourist demand. And we’re doing this with very normal flight times, not using the other advantage of retiree travel, the long or multi-leg travel itinerary.

In the interest of sharing info, please add in the comments if you have a good travel planning or search website/service to recommend.