The troubles we were having here to get our house built are partly because of the Mexican way of doing business. This all started a few years ago. I actually wrote this piece during the time it happened.

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I guess we were pretty naive when we bought our property. What am I saying? I KNOW for certain we were. Nothing has happened as promised by our real estate agent. I know what you’re thinking. Who in her right mind trusts a guy trying to make a real estate deal? And by the way, I don’t know why they call them deals. As for real estate guys, in all fairness, our agent is a great guy who has helped us in many ways. He is someone we consider a friend. We didn’t ask the right questions, I know that much.

Because of where we are building (one tier away from the beach), we need an Enviro Permisso–environmental permit. It costs a mere (cough) $5,500.00 to obtain this “permission” to develop our property. To navigate the system we are working with an engineer who speaks not one word of English. The contract is in Spanish too. We do not speak, understand or read very much Spanish. You see where this is going.

The engineer, Jesus Jose Prieto, is a nice enough hombre–man, and I’m sure he knows something about the service he is supposed to provide to us, but he has not been able to procure what we need for this environmental permit. He said it would take about 4-5 weeks. Jesus took samples and photos of the cactus on our property. These photos were only of the cacti that are protected by the Mexican government. He did this part of his job in record time. But it has taken three long months just for him to inform us that our paperwork was not satisfactory. Instead, we also need to get a Power of Attorney from the bank that holds our fideicomiso. The title to our property is legally in a Mexico bank trust—a fideicomiso.  This trust is required of foreign land owners. In order to sign for all the permits we will need along the way, the bank is asking us to do a Power of Attorney. Huh? What? Well, this means we will be able to sign for ourselves for what was ours in the first place. We will need a variety of permits along the way. It seems that the fun will continue for a long time.

The bank’s requests are now our problems. They want all our documents in Spanish done by a certified translator and notarized by a notario–notary, who is a circuit judge, unlike a notary in the USA. In all fairness, I will take this opportunity to mention that we are in Mexico. Putting our docs in Spanish seems a reasonable request, but it costs more money and it is inconvenient. I know. I’m whining. As for the notario, he has special stamps and seals for our documents. The seals are beautiful too. Small children and the Mexican government love these seals. And who can blame them? They are shiny little works of art. After a couple of false starts, we did manage to obtain these documents, in Spanish, but during the process, we found out we also had to get an attorney in Todos Santos to write a letter (in Spanish) to formally let the bank in on any possible plans we have now or may have in the future. In order to do a n y t h i n g on our lot, we have to share our plans with them. Remember, el banco—the bank—holds the trust.

Now here we sit with a cold drink, a much lighter wallet, translated documents with pretty seals and stamps on them. We’re on our way!

Wrong. Now the bank says we need an apostille–a type of certification document with a fancy seal–from the state of Nevada where our LLC is. Did I mention that our lot is in an LLC? That was one of the selling points. We didn’t have to pay closing costs to Mexico to buy a US “business.” LLCs are more like monkey business if you ask me, but we fell for it. Oh really? We’ll save $8,000 in closing costs? Terrific! I’m pretty sure somewhere along the way my mother told me that you never get something for nothing, but I probably just ignored her wisdom.

Seeing that I am the secretary of our LLC, it is my job to go online to the Nevada Sec. of State, and investigate this requirement. Piece of cake! It’s right there at the internet site. I fill out the order form for an apostille and now I have to MAIL it to the Nevada Secretary of State with my credit card info and my signature. Have you tried to mail anything to or from Baja? The mail within Baja is pretty good I’m told. Someone mails you something and two months later you get it. Maybe. Our experience with mail outside of Baja has been less than stellar. Our friend in Washington mailed us a large envelope in December of 2010. They received it in the post office in Todos Santos in June 2011. Who needed those bills anyway, right?

I filled out the order form for the apostille, scanned and emailed it to our LLC Nevada attorney who agreed to mail it for us. He didn’t mention money, so I’m thinking he is doing us a favor.

I’m asking the Secretary of State’s office to send the apostille to my mom’s address in San Diego, as we will be there a week from now. The Mexican bank says they will accept an electronic apostille in order to get our “package of documents” off to Mexico City where there is this ONE PERSON in all of Mexico who can grant us our Power of Attorney. Gee, I hope he isn’t on vacation. This is supposed to take a month from receipt of our request. I would like this omnipotent person to think of it as more of a demand, but we must remain polite in this gentile society. Please take these translated documents, all ten of them, plus the apostille from the state of Nevada, and allow me to sign for developing my own property. Muchas gracias! 

I still have to give the bank the original copy of the apostille when we get back from San Diego, which is going to take at least two weeks to receive from Nevada. This is an optimistic guess. I’m crossing my fingers that we will still be in San Diego when it arrives. If I get this in time, I will scan it and email it to the sweet little bank in Mexico that has us by the throat. If I don’t get it in time, I will slit my wrists.

We spend a lot of time talking about our dream to live on a beach in Baja where we imagine the cost of living to be cheap and there will be good surf. I don’t surf, but Greg does. It is part of who he is, and I love that about him. Well, most of the time, anyway. His obsession with it somewhat dictates how we live our lives—what we do on the weekends, where we travel, how we spend some of our money, and even which magazines we buy. But that doesn’t mean it is bad or wrong. The ocean has great lure for me too. While I am not a surfer, number one on my wish list is to live by the water. We ask ourselves over and over, “Can we do this? Can we sell everything and move to Mexico?”

We decide we can afford an initial visit to Todos Santos for 15 days to feel it out—try it on. I know that isn’t much time, but part of the dream has been in place for a long time. Many years prior to our short trip to Todos Santos, we envisioned spending our last years in a warm, coastal environment. It has always been our plan to retire in Costa Rica or Baja Sur. In my gut I know the time is right to create the reality. Sometimes you just have to stop talking.

We celebrate our 31^st anniversary in May of 2010 enjoying our stay in Marita’s Casitas, a sweet spot in Las Tunas, Todos Santos.

Happy Anniversary!

31 Years Together!

Maritas Casitas in Las Tunas

We put our Whidbey Island home on the market in July and in August, during the worst real estate market in memory, it sells. We tell our friends it is a sure sign that our dream is meant to be. Greg’s last day of work is in October that year. We boldly drive away from our former Washington State life on November 1^st, pulling a 4’ X 4’ X 8’ U-Haul trailer containing all of what is left of our worldly possessions, the things we deem impossible to go without.

Packed and ready for the road!

We’re on our Way!

It had to fit in this little bitty trailer.

Everything we Own is in this 4′ X 4 ‘ X 8’ U-Haul Trailer

I cannot say it was easy to purge what had taken 33 years to accumulate. And what an accumulation! I’m sure we had, at one time, excellent reasons for keeping all that stuff.  Okay, I confess. It is mostly my fault. I am the worst offender; I am often unable to part with things. But somehow I did it and off we go to our new life. We didn’t know what to expect, but we believed in ourselves.

I broke my arm in the ocean one summer while boogie boarding. Not to mention, I’m a chicken by nature, but Greg is always encouraging me get into the water without fear. Now, with his encouragement, I feel more relaxed than ever before. Living so close to the ocean has been healing for me. I’m letting go poco a poco— little by little. In all areas of my life, I am releasing the things that are no longer useful; I’m learning to dismiss dark thoughts and feelings that have previously interrupted my happiness from time to time. The “inner uglies” is how I put it. Why allow myself to be plagued with guilt, regret, jealousy and other negative feelings that have never served me well? I want to let those inner uglies flow up and away to be replaced with peaceful, easy feelings.

In my head an Eric Clapton song repeats, “Let it flow. Let it flow. Let it blossom, let it grow.” These days I will silently ask myself, “Is this how you want it to be?” And if it is not, I’ll just let it go. Breathe slowly and deeply, in and out. With a purposeful breath, I am inhaling life and exhaling whatever is needless.

I used to work with a great woman who, when obstacles got in her way, would just shrug her shoulders and say, “Oh well. That’s life!” Her habit was to accept whatever life threw at her and deal as best she could. And bless her heart; she handled every challenge with a cheerful countenance. She refused to allow anything to dampen her world view. She taught me, “Life happens. Solve the problems, find the fun, and just get on with it.”

For some reason, the fact that she was a science teacher, made her “bring-it-on” attitude seem all the more a miracle to me. I didn’t expect her to appreciate metaphysics.

What is life if not a series of patterns?  We find them in science, mathematics, nature, and art. In fact, patterns are the blueprint of the essence of our lives.

Pattern in Stone

Passion Fruit Flower

My mentor modeled the behavior I knew I wanted too. The only thing not allowing me to have satisfaction is me. It’s as simple as that. Now the rubric by which I measure becomes the question, “Is this how you want it to be?” And like I said before, if it is not, then I let it go until it becomes exactly how I want it to be. It really is that simple.

Feeling hungry, I decide to make a cheese and avocado sandwich, with cottage cheese, and a big pile of salty potato chips on the side. I will wash this down with a big glass of red rooibos vanilla tea from our cooler.

A Cactus Bloom

While eating a delicious lunch and listening to the waves crash on the beach,

I know without a doubt, my life in this moment is exactly how I want it to be.