Friday, May 18, 2012

Jubilada!


Tell people that you are having a baby, starting a new career, getting married, taking up ice climbing, running a marathon, studying to be an iguana trainer and they will all say ‘How fantastic – congratulations!’

But tell people that you are getting off the hamster wheel, selling everything and moving to Mexico and the collective response seems to be…

“But what will you do?!?”

I happen to think that regaining my sanity, my health, my sense of humour and my joie de vivre is ‘doing’ something in spades, but I now realize it’s all a bit ‘nothing’ in our fast-paced, accomplishment-driven society. Which is why I’m doing it. Nothing I mean. And moving to Mexico.

I like Mexico because they like to do things a bit differently down there. For one, they move more slowly. Partly because it’s hot. But mostly because they get distracted by the little things in life – like stopping to chat to an old friend on the street, then going for a coca cola instead of the meeting they were headed to. Or popping in to see if the old abuela across the street needs anything from the market. It’s frustrating at times, when you are the one at the other end of the meeting agenda, but after awhile you find you are doing the same. And no one thinks lesser of you.

What I have noticed about this culture is that they spend their time doing the things that give them joy. I suppose that is why they refer to retirement as ‘jubilado’, or ‘jubilant’ in English, which needs no explanation although ‘exultingly joyful ‘ comes to mind. In our own less passionate language, ‘retired’ is defined as 1. Having left one's job and ceased to work or 2. Quiet and secluded; not seen or frequented by many people. Think I’d rather be jubilado. Or in my case – jubilada. Which brings me back to that pesky, puzzling and self-esteem denting question…“But what will you do?!?”

Although I am not sure what I will be doing down the road, I can tell you what I won’t do.

I won’t get out of bed until I’m damn well ready.
I won’t put my personal health and well being behind everything else.
I won’t forget to kiss my husband in the morning.
I won’t say “I don’t have time’.
I won’t say no to a game of golf.
I won’t rush through lunch with a friend because I have something else to do.
I won’t neglect to brush my dog and clean his ears.
I won’t wait 2 weeks to phone my mom.
I won’t wake up 5 times a night worried about work.
I won’t leave the lentils cooking on the stove for 2 hours because I’m writing a proposal and I’ve been procrastinating - again.
I won’t say no when I can say yes.
I won’t get out of the tub when the water gets cold – I’ll add more hot water.
I won’t work til 7 pm every night.
I won’t work on the weekends.
I won’t worry about staying up late because I have to get up early.
I won’t do anything I don’t want to do.
I won’t worry about money, even though I should.
I won’t worry about it being a ‘school night’.
I won’t care if I don’t make the bed.
I won’t wait til 10 pm to read my book.

And most important of all.

I won’t feel bad because I’m not ‘doing’ anything.

I know I am going to be my own worst enemy when it comes to this doing nothing stuff. I’ve already started to get a bit twitchy and wonder at what rate my brain cells will start to dissolve, now that I am not multitasking like a demon or working 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. So I am trying to get into a new rhythm, a new mindset. One that is less about what I did today and more about…did I do today what I enjoy most in life.

Right now that means leisurely coffee in the mornings, reading the paper, maybe breakfast at the local diner, a great hot yoga class, lunch with someone interesting or fun, walking my dog, writing, working around the house to get it ready to sell, looking at garden books and dreaming about my royal palms, studying some Spanish, making plans with friends, talking to moving companies, planning and cooking a great dinner, hanging out with my husband and best friend in life.

And being jubilada.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Vivir el sueño!


Alicia y Ricardo en Merida
Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And he’s moving to Merida, Mexico where he can get away from the elves, enjoy the sunshine, swim in his new pool, do a little yoga, make some art, learn a new language, spend some quality time with the missus, and re-fill his proverbial well.
Metaphors aside, sounds pretty great doesn’t it?
So Ric and I are following suit and making plans to head south on a semi-permanent basis. Many of you have heard us talk about our dream to make Mexico a partial place of residence and we are now ready to make our move. We will be listing our Bridgeland home this spring so spread the word.
La casa en Manzanillo
As for my company, Foundry Communications, I am now ‘jubilada’! I have passed full ownership to my former business partner and am looking forward to my next career as a Spanish language student, art curator and landscape designer (with help from mi hermana hermosa Diane, who is a real landscape designer). I may consult a little and/or do some volunteer work until the fall, but mostly I’ll be focusing on the logistics around selling our house and making the move to Mexico.
The main zocalo in Merida
For those a bit more out of the loop, here’s the back story.
Ric and I have been spending time each year in Manzanillo, where we own a beach house (casaelgrupo.com) with some family, It’s been a lovely retreat for us over the last 7 years and we hope to continue to make trips there, especially when things get too hot and sticky in Merida.
But we knew from spending time there that Manzanillo would not be a place we could live on a more permanent basis. We are urban explorers, culture vultures, free spirits. We needed to find a place that gave us an environment we could dig into – culturally, emotionally and spiritually.
Merida is a city we have been familiar with over the last few years. Ric spent time there many years ago, and my sister Diane and her husband Bob have now moved there permanently. We visited Merida in October, found a place we knew we could call home, closed the deal at Christmas and will be making our move south this fall.
One of our gardens

Merida is in the Yucatan, 4 hrs west of Cancun on the Gulf of Mexico, and ½ hr from the port town of Progresso. An old colonial city, it is called the "white city", La Ciudad Blanca, because it's so clean and white, sparkling in Merida's brilliant and perpetual sunshine. Merida is genteel and laid-back, with a population of 1 million and equally as many mosquitos, from what we could tell. We’re bringing down a “mega-catch’ mosquito trapper so no fears about contracting Denge fever at our house! For those of you concerned about safety in Mexico, and ours in particular, rest assured that Merida is a gem. The media sensationalizes the violence in Mexico so we encourage you to check out the statistics for yourself. I’ve included a few links below if you’d like to read more about Merida (although I can confirm that you can no longer get a refurbished colonial for $100K!).



The poem below, by Sandra Spencer, speaks volumes about what lies ahead, and we’re hoping with some language under our belt, and a place we can call home, we’ll start to experience life a little differently and perhaps have the chance to share it with some of you. Our door will always be open. Hasta luego mi amigos!

Mexico: A Cautionary Tale 

I was warned.
Repeatedly.
Warned.
So many times it lost its potency.
Warned.
By well-meaning friends
living in "safe" gated communities with armed guards
By acquaintances
who have never been here
By media reports
glamorizing and spreading alarm
Who have a different definition of danger. And of what constitutes safety.

Stupid me!
I didn't listen
to any of it.

Adventurous, perhaps with a death wish,
I didn't look.
Worse. I wasn't careful.

And…
In "dangerous" Mexico,
I was robbed.
Stupid, stupid me!

Yes, Mexico…
stole from me…
A smile.
At first.

And then,
they got bolder
and took…
A laugh.

and bolder still, they ran off with…
my poor self-image.

Which turned into a larger felony: They took …
time
to fill me with compliments!
Telling me
repeatedly
how wonderful it is…
to be a woman
of experience.
Who smiles.
Who laughs.
Repeatedly.

Time after time. Again and again.
Until finally, I believed them.

As I was smiling and laughing, and actually trusting myself,
They had the nerve to go and pick-pocket my lingering self-doubts,
my well-nurtured insecurities including
my belief that "real beauty" was limited to youth…

While I was still reeling in shock,
from having been robbed, and pick-pocketed
Mexicans took
the opportunity to kill my previous ideas of what constituted
"hospitality" ,
replacing it with a generosity
that is frightening
to even try to emulate,
yet so, so fortunate to know.

See how really dangerous Mexico is?
And it got even worse!

I hadn't recovered from such brutal behavior, when
they committed another truly horrible,
almost unspeakable crime.

They gave me hope and optimism.
Repeatedly.
About who I was.
About who I could be.
About who we could be together.

Amongst wrapping me in love and force-feeding me laughter and
compliments and smothering me in generosity
and unfathomably fabulous hospitality,
I was rendered helpless.
Utterly
helpless.

Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

I did not cry for help – or run away.
Mexico took complete advantage of my situation and committed the
biggest atrocity of all. Once again, they stole …
my heart – and my soul.

Now I'm so scared -
deeply, utterly terrified -
that I cannot return the favor.

Never happier, I steal away…
to wish

this kind of "danger" on everyone.