II. La Visión

On New Years Day we’re leaving for our traditional winter idyl in Mexico. The last ten days of that six-week trip we’re moving inland to seriously scout out housing in Ajijic—the place we plan to move next spring. Last summer, on our last—and also first—trip to that village, we’d thought about exactly where in town we’d like to settle. 

Gazebo in the main plaza

Walkability—safe, enjoyable and easy access, by foot, to resources we value—has long been a prerequisite for where we choose to live. We like to be able to amble to the action.

The desired features within strolling distance of our new home in Ajijic include the main plaza with its gazebo, gardens, multitude of shops and stalls, a 400-year-old church, and simpatico places to eat and drink; the lakeside park and boardwalk (malecon); and the flower gardens and resources at ex-pat oriented Lake Chapala Society. This gives us a 50 square block area, centered on the plaza. It does not include any gated community.

Four blocks from the plaza to the lake at the end of this calle

When we got back to Edmonds from visiting Ajijic last summer, we immediately began looking at online resources for finding a rental casita. We soon sniffed out a half dozen local agencies. We searched within a monthly price range about one-third less than we are paying now. When we found an affordable listing within our walkability boundary, we called our spouse to come excitedly look over our shoulder at its description and, especially, its pictures. 

We decided we wanted a two bedroom (one for the visitors we look forward to hosting), furnished casita. It should have at least one and a half baths, a well-appointed kitchen, the usual dining and living areas, a private courtyard, and ideally a rooftop patio, or mirador. Less tangible features include plenty of light, and attractive traditional furnishings and fittings. It should have decorations and paint we can easily live with for at least the year we are giving ourselves to see if we want to make the move more permanent.

Malecon, or lakefront, at the end of the street above

These online searches have been great escapism, particularly on cold, wet and cloudy days here in the Pacific Northwest. They’re bringing us closer to the reality of our future life in sunny, friendly Mexico, especially when we go on Google Street View and click ourselves up and down the calles around a possible home.

In addition, this process helps us more clearly define our desires, and weigh them against what is available. When we find a place online that makes the cut, I take screen shots of its location, description, and pictures, figuring that, once down there, we can show these to agents so they will understand what we are looking for. 

Screen shot of casita #2

Recently, though, we found a listing for a little casita that incorporates so much of what we want, and is available when we want it, that my get-it-done wife emailed the agent and told him we’d like to look at it when we visit Ajijic in February. Eduardo is expecting us. We’re stoked...

But--just a minute ago we found another casita we maybe love even more--oh, the riches!

I. Rinconcito de Amor

Where the action is in Chapala on a Friday night

In the early summer about five months ago, we visited an ex-pat friend who was trying out life in the scattered gringo community at Lake Chapala in central Mexico. The lakeside town of Chapala, where she lives, is a lively and attractive place; it primarily caters to Mexicans coming down for a fun weekend from the large and nearby metropolis of Guadalajara. At one end of Chapala’s well-maintained malecon, or lakefront, there is a pier that goes out a hundred yards into the large, bird-filled, and often misty lake. 

The pier is popular with strollers, ambling out to its vista, and also the embarkation point for colorful boats that will take you to the ill-named Isla de las Alacranes, or Scorpion Island. The slogan formed in wrought-iron on the portal to the pier, though, is totally inspiring to romantics like us: “Chapala - El Rinconcito de Amor”; in English, according to Google Translate, it means, “Chapala - Little Corner of Love”. 

Ajijic boy running for a fountain just off the main plaza

We hadn’t expected to like the area, and the people, as much as we did, and we returned home to Seattle vowing to move to a little lakeside village just a few miles west of Chapala, with a strange name that sounds like a tittering laugh—ah-hee-HEEK—spelled Ajijic. 

We've booked a reconnaissance trip to Ajijic this coming winter.

In a kind of snobby way, we hadn’t originally thought we’d would like this village because of the large number of ex-pats centered around here. But our experience walking around the pueblo revealed what seemed to be an amiable mix of locals and gringos, and the gringos we met were that rare breed—people with whom we actually enjoyed spending time. 

Moving to Mexico isn’t a new idea for us. For nearly a decade we have been spending a week or more each winter in a little fishing village near Puerto Vallarta. As our retirement became a near reality, we began toying with the idea of a move. Last year, when I finally pulled the plug (as a side note, “retired” in Spanish is the happy-sounding jubilado), we were able to extend our customary vacation to take in the entire month of January. 

Sun rising over Yelapa's little bay, from our balcony

Our idyl there was relaxing almost beyond belief, but returning from weeks of warm days fishing with a local friend and lazing in the sun on the patio above the bay, to month after month of cold, wet, dreary, north-of-the-border weather was brutal.

It isn’t just the weather, of course, that’s encouraged such a big move as this. We love the vibrant culture and friendly people we’ve come to know over the past seven years. We had previously thought of moving to live full-time in Guanajuato or perhaps San Miguel de Allende—old colonial cities in the central highlands. We visited Guanajuato several years ago and found it beautiful—magical, even—but socially impenetrable. 

And San Miguel has come to seem a bit too caro—both expensive, and whatever else a fair number of people with serious money bring to a place. We’d planned to check it out this winter to find out whether it was artful, or just arty, but after my sensible wife said she thought Chapala—or Ajijic—would be a welcoming place to move…well, I’m totally in with that.