For months, I’d been looking forward to my five-week solo trip to Mexico, where I’d be housesitting in a beautiful oceanfront home in La Paz.
I expected I’d have a relaxing stay, and I was especially eager to learn more about the area and its local culture to see if I might want to retire there someday. Right now, I’m not tied to staying in the US and am exploring options close by.
I planned my trip before the official start of summer, bought gauzy clothes to cover my arms and legs, and packed a couple of sun hats. I assumed that if I could survive going to college at the University of Arizona, I could surely handle five weeks in La Paz, which is also in the Sonoran Desert.
On all fronts, I thought I was prepared. It didn’t take long for me to realize I was not.
Between the heat and language barrier, my trip quickly became more stressful than relaxing
When I arrived, the temperature was already in the mid- to upper-90s Fahrenheit — much hotter than I anticipated.
And after two decades in Seattle, my body took longer than I expected to acclimate to weather that 20-year-old me was able to take in stride while living in Tucson, Arizona, three decades prior.
I also hadn’t practiced my Spanish as much as I’d planned, and quickly learned that not speaking the language made everything more complicated.
I was afraid to seem like a rude American tourist, wanted to be respectful of local customs, and felt overwhelmed by all there was to remember.
As I ventured out for my first ride along the Malecón de La Paz, a seaside promenade known for its sandy beaches, public art, and open-air restaurants, I was filled with anxiety.
What if I got a flat tire? Or had heat stroke? Or was forced to suffer the embarrassment of using my limited Spanish in a difficult situation?
For 30 years, I’d traveled with a partner — first my dad, then my boyfriend, and eventually my husband. This time, I was all alone with no one else to read the map, make decisions, or take charge in a difficult situation.
If anything went wrong, there was no one to rescue me, and I thought about turning back. Then I remembered who I was.
Eventually, I found the motivation to move forward by remembering how far I’ve come
Just when I thought I might retreat to my air-conditioned villa, my mind flashed through all the hard things I’d done in my life, ones I once told myself I couldn’t possibly accomplish.
I’d lived in a new and unfamiliar state, I was the first person in my family to graduate from college, I stood alone in court representing myself during my divorce, and I had raised two daughters as a single mom in one of America’s most expensive cities.
I’ve accomplished much more difficult tasks than riding a bike along a beautiful waterfront on a sunny day, and that knowledge gave me the courage to keep going, even when part of me wanted to give up.
At one point, I decided to keep pushing myself and search out the local tortilleria about a 10-minute bike ride away.
It was intimidating at first. I left mid-morning when it was already too hot, got lost, and when I tried to order after practicing the entire way, my mind went blank — all I could do was point to the fresh, hot tortillas rolling off the conveyor belt.
But the next time I went, I knew the way without looking up directions, remembered how to order in Spanish, and felt welcomed by the workers who remembered me.
By the time I left, I realized the real question wasn’t whether I could live in Mexico
I went to La Paz to see if I could start a new life there after I retire. Along the way, I realized that I’m someone who can build a new life anywhere.
This trip reminded me how quickly I tend to doubt myself and forget my own strength when navigating difficult, unfamiliar surroundings, and how important it is to keep going and keep trusting myself.
I still don’t know yet if I want to move to Mexico permanently, but I am confident that wherever I retire, I’ll be just fine.
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