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!).

http://www.therealmexico.com/merida1.htm

http://www.travelyucatan.com/merida_mexico.php

http://www.calgaryherald.com/travel/Canadian+makes+Mexico+home/6209334/story.html

http://www.travelandleisure.com/articles/meridas-moment/3

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.