Summer in San Felipe!

Some of my friends think I’m crazy to be here in San Felipe in July, one of the hottest and most humid months of the year.

I’ve spent the four previous summers, May through August, since I’ve been “homeless” in the U.S., in Chatsworth, northwest of Los Angeles, living in my 85-year old Mom’s spare bedrooms. From there I’d drive to Long Beach, south of LA, once or twice a week for work. I’d stay a few nights in or near Long Beach with friends or at the local RV park in my over-the-cab camper, working during the day and socializing in the evenings, then drive the legendary 405 freeway, the worst commute in the U.S., back to Mom’s for the weekend.

I remember in particular one horrendous trek on the 405. I’d had lunch with a friend in Long Beach, and left about 2:30, later than I’d expected, for Mom’s. It’s about an hour drive when traffic is minimal, but this was Friday afternoon. Two hours later, I was only half-way to Mom’s, though there were no major accidents. Exasperated, I exited the freeway in Santa Monica and found a rare parking spot in a suburban neighborhood. There I napped in the covered back of my truck and yakked with a friend by cell phone while waiting for the traffic to clear. Optimistically, I returned to the freeway about 6:30, but it was a grueling half-hour from just the Santa Monica freeway onramp to the 405! I left the 405 once again, got some dinner, and drove the rest of the way to Mom’s, arriving about 9:00 pm. Friends who know the 405 barely blink an eye when I tell them it took nearly 6 hours to travel 70 miles, since they have similar stories.

So this year, the mere thought of another summer in LA traffic sent my heart into a tailspin, so I decided to try something different. I’d already delegated most real work to subcontractors, minimizing the need for summer driving. But I wasn’t looking forward to staying at Mom’s all summer. She’s still mentally sharp and mobile around the house but has become unnecessarily but increasingly dependent on me. Even without the driving, a few days with Mom wears me out.

So I stayed at my glorious Home on the Sea of Cortez during May and part of June, the most beautiful months of the year weather-wise: warm sunny days, a cool breeze to mellow the air when temperatures climb into the low 90’s, and cool nights. I was happy to be away from the chilly May-gray and June-gloom of coastal southern California, where the sun makes but a brief curtain-call by mid-afternoon.

But I hadn’t decided where to spend the rest of the summer. By July, temperatures at Home climb so high that they vaporize near-shore waters, resulting in humidity levels well over 60%. Since my home is about 30 miles south of where current electrical lines stop, I’m on solar power, sufficient to run my computer and lots of fans, but not an air conditioner. I could fire one up with my generator, but daily use can get expensive, and I’d have to drive the 80-mile round-trip to town (San Felipe) for gas a couple times a week.

I love the warm weather but wasn’t excited about trying to sleep when it’s impossible to cool off, and I doubted my 13-yr old dog Onyx would be happy either. I’d come Home last July for a couple days, and within a minute of stepping from my air-conditioned truck, I’d felt as if I’d just exited a shower with all my clothes, and Onyx kept looking at me with a long tongue and sad, pleading eyes.

So I saw an ad in the June issue of the San Felipe Newsletter, “Alfa Gold trailer on private residential property with covered deck and small fenced yard for your pet.” But it was north of San Felipe, and we “South Campos” folks have misgivings about the “north,” just as “northerners” imagine my neighbors and I all live in funky patched-together houses, since some of them are. The north is more densely populated since people prefer to live closer to town, so there’s a lot more off-road vehicle traffic and a lot more "Americanos feos y borachos." [you can look it up!].

But the trailer was cheap—-$300 a month plus electricity-—and was in Campo Ocotillo. I remembered Campo Ocotillo from a book club meeting two months prior—we’d sat outside and enjoyed the ocean breeze and peace and quiet, which mellowed my opinion about the “north.” So on my next trip to town, I drove six miles north to check out the rental. It was an older trailer, but I had a nice feeling when I walked in—it was cozy, comfortable and had three air conditioners, Internet access, and a covered patio. I met Shirley and Mel, the wonderful “landlords” who lived a couple hundred feet away, paid rent for a month and moved in July 1, after two weeks in the U.S. that included visits by both my sister and by some bird-nerd colleagues from Chile.

I wondered about the sensibility of my decision that first day, which was so hot I had to run all three air conditioners (AC) a couple hours before temps inside cooled to the high 80’s. But thereafter, only the AC in the living room where Onyx hangs out is on during the day at its lowest setting, and I generally turn on the bedroom AC only part of the night. Most days have been warm to hot, but often with a cool to lukewarm breeze from the south. I still walk every morning as I do at Home, but to stay cool, I first dunk my t-shirt in the sink and wet Onyx down with the hose.

And I’ve told friends I’m here not just for the AC but for several other reasons. First, I have “north” friends I’ve wanted to get to know better. Today Cathy-Lee and I swam at the El Dorado Ranch pool then had lunch together. Last week I shared a meal and went dancing at the Jolly Mon bar with Ann, who’s here for a couple weeks, savoring a new romance with a “north” guy she met last spring. Both Ann and Cathy-Lee are women I knew only a little and sensed were kindred spirits, but my summer north of town has allowed me to get to know them better and to share laughs and fun times with them. I’ve spent a little time also with Regina and Jo, two women from my book club, and realize I want to get to know them better too.

Second, I’m not at all a bar-person, but I love to sing Linda Ronstadt and Janis Joplin songs and many 60’s-70’s tunes, and have a long-time dream of singing, if even once in awhile, with a rock band. I rarely experience night-life when Home, since I’m 40 miles south of San Felipe, and it’s a long, dark drive Home afterward. Campo Ocotillo, however, is only a short drive from town. Since I’ve been here, one local band has been sufficiently generous and forgiving to allow me, on two separate occasions, to sing a couple songs with them!

And because of my singing dream, although I never dreamed I’d be a karaoke babe, I’ve joined Mac and Nan at their karaoke nights at Playa de Oro. I’ve also been to their house to practice a few numbers and help find the key I’m best at singing. Both the band and karaoke experiences have been humbling—I’ve learned I need a lot more practice! But Cathy-Lee tells me to be patient, that she knows other women who sounded great without a microphone but required several months of practice before their voices melded well with one. So although I was tempted to give up after hearing my screeches echoed back to me, I now hope to continue singing once or twice a month when I return Home this fall. Rather than make the long drive Home, I can stay overnight afterward with Cathy-Lee or at Campo Ocotillo, which, thanks to Shirley and Mel, I now feel is my second Baja home.

Third, I wanted to try some San Felipe restaurants! I’ve had dinner with Shirley and Mel at Chuy’s, and with friend Nancy, who’s toughing it out in the South Campos with no AC, at El Nido steakhouse for delicious fresh fish with garlic. I joined Cat, who with husband Ed operates the San Felipe Title Company, San Felipe’s wonderful bookstore, at the new Chinese place for chicken-with mushrooms. I hope to try other restaurants but may have to wait til I return in the fall.

I’m also chipping away at two other summer goals: practicing Spanish and trying some new tricks with my camera. I meet once or twice weekly with Laura, who speaks fluent English, at a local restaurant to practice conversational Spanish. And I’m pushing myself more than I do while at Home to work in my Complete Spanish Grammar workbook. Since I’m spending more time in town, I’m meeting more Mexicans, which allows me more opportunities to practice the language.

The seashore at Campo Ocotillo is different than at Home, so with my Nikon D-70 I’ve captured some interesting sunrises as well as close-up shots of shells brimming with remnants of the outgoing tide and reflections of the early-morning sun. Tomorrow I’ll go to Valley of the Giants and capture those monstrous but elegant cacti in a background of soft clouds, and later manipulate the images into an HDR (high-dynamic-range) image with Photoshop. I also hope to capture San Felipe fishermen setting out, or returning from, a day’s work.

Yeah, it sounds like a busy schedule, but these activities occupy only a few hours a week, and I'm only working an average of a couple hous a day running the business via laptop. So I'm spending lots of time reading, napping, walking, and sitting on the patio just enjoying the calm summer days.

I miss my view at Home of the wide bay and empty beach stretching miles to the north, but the beaches here in the summer are quiet too, and only a two-minute walk from my rental. At dawn yesterday morning, I watched as low clouds hugging the horizon turned lavender-pink and the resident osprey searched for a fish breakfast on the incoming tide. By noon, I had no Internet access so took my laptop to the local restaurant for free wireless and lunch. While waiting for my order, a guy walked by my table, the only one occupied, and said hello. “How’s it going?” I asked as he headed for the door to the outside patio. “Just another day in Paradise!” he replied with a smile. And I fervently agreed, “Yes. It is!”

My Special Place in Mexico

On my 50th birthday, in September of 2002, I decided the best gift I could give myself would be to forget, for awhile, about finding a compatible man who appreciated the person he was and who could love me for the person I am. It was nearly three years after my divorce, which was followed by several disappointments with on-line and off-line dating, including flying across the country to meet the “one who got away” 23 years before and returning home astonished and saddened at how such a warm, happy guy could have become so bitter and sarcastic.

My life was already filled with loving friends and rewarding activities, but I’d always hoped to share it with a great guy while embracing his lifestyle, friends and family too! So when I made the big decision to temporarily change my focus, I thought for a moment about what my life would be like. I’d no longer feel compelled to scan the world of men, wondering if that the attractive guy at the conference wine-and-cheese party or in the checkout line at Trader Joes could be “the one.” How would I spend the hours I’d previously squandered perusing online dating websites, later returning home to hug my dog after yet another dreadful coffee date? What would I do those weekend evenings I’d previously spent wishing yet another blind date suggested by a well-meaning friend would end?

An image of a wonderful room I didn’t recognize alighted for a moment in my mind. Against the far wall was a futon with a Mexican blanket, and a warm bright light flooded the room from windows on both sides. The image probably lasted a few seconds at most, but with it came a feeling I couldn’t easily forget, a feeling of incredible tranquility and joy. After sharing the story of that image with friends, I couldn’t help wondering if such a Place could really exist.

I knew from the dazzling light shining into the room that it was somewhere in the desert, but since the image was what I would see while sitting in the room across from the futon, I couldn’t see out the windows for any landmarks or other clues about where it could be. And none of my many desert travel destinations in Utah, Arizona, New Mexico or California seemed to click with the image. The next day, my curiosity mounting, I turned off the phone, sat quietly on my bed and closed my eyes. Amazingly, I was able to create the image once again in my mind and within it, “walk” to the window, where I saw a morning sun over the ocean. That’s when I knew, if it existed, that this Place was on the Sea of Cortez, the ocean that caresses, and sometimes crashes into, the east coast of Baja California, Mexico.

I’d fallen in love with the Sea of Cortez many years before. But the Baja peninsula extends for over 800 miles. It could take years to find this Place! That’s when logic took a front seat to whatever spiritual awakening was happening inside of me. I couldn’t afford to retire yet, and when I did would miss friends and family in the U.S. if I moved to Loreto, a gorgeous quaint tourist town crowned by rugged mountains but a grueling two-day drive or $300 round-trip flight from Los Angeles.

So I got out my maps and found San Felipe, the first town south of the border town at Mexicali. Years before, I’d been there with my now ex-husband, but it swarmed with tourists on weekends and was sprouting with several American housing developments. It was impossible that the peaceful Place I’d seen in my mind existed in San Felipe.

But I noticed the names of several small communities south of the town. I logged in to the San Felipe website, emailed a realtor, and had a phone number to call the next morning for a family selling their house 35 miles south of town. I decided to make the drive three weeks later, when I was invited, via another email, to a party in the tiny town of Puertecitos, 20 miles south of the house. I figured if the house just wasn’t my Special Place, the party would provide opportunities to ask around about other beach houses for sale nearby.

My anticipation was spilling over as I neared the house, but when I drove up and saw its funky outside, with peeling paint and rusted screen doors, my heart faltered for a moment. I'd never tried to imagine the outside, but had assumed a somewhat quaint cabin surrounded by Mexican tile. I chuckled and reassured myself that I'd seen other places for sale on the way down, that there had to be several others, and one of them would be for me! And I'd been invited to a party that evening in Puertecitos; I'd pass the word along that I was looking. I knew I'd soon find that Place I saw in my mind, or something very close to it.

I parked the truck and thought, what the heck, I may as well see what the place looks like inside! I introduced myself to Bill the owner and his son Will. I'd been given directions to the house from his wife Juanita in San Felipe. Bill escorted me through the tattered screen door into the living room, and I stopped and stared open-mouthed. There was a leather sofa, not a futon with Mexican colors on the far wall. But I saw that light! And the morning sun over Sea of Cortez was right outside the sliding-glass door, just as it had been when I'd seen the image for a second time. With tears about to spill over, I told Bill I was going to buy the house. “You haven’t seen the rest of it!” he chided. Of course, it didn’t matter, but I was happy that the front bedroom also had an ocean view—I could look watch the sunrise from my bed!

I was already in love with the Place, and met some wonderful people that night in Puertecitos, who are friends to this day. But the next morning I was head-over-heels. I'd camped at the shoreline in the back of my truck and watched a pink-and-gold sunrise splash over the wide expanse of tidepools.

I hired local reliable contractors, who fixed up and painted the house while I was in the U.S., and I made a commitment to spend a few days there each month. I’d pack the truck the night before leaving with my latest purchases in home décor and an ice chest full of healthy food. I’d often work until after midnight on invoices and emails, then arise before 5 am to miss the morning traffic through San Diego. But I never, ever cancelled a trip; getting there was essential to my peace of mind.

When I arrived during each visit at my Special Place, which I now call Home, I unpacked the truck and took a long walk down the beach, rarely seeing anyone except my 82-years-young neighbor Louie and his yellow Lab Retriever Jefe. I’d never met a dog with such a smile! And I’d spend long hours at my patio table, covered in a tablecloth of Mexico-bright colors. At first I’d sit down with a book to read or report to review while I had my morning coffee or evening glass of wine. Then, I’d notice the waves and how the quickly the colors of ocean changed. It was slate blue in the morning, turquoise at mid-day, and lavender, then silver, at dusk. And the unbelievably high and low tides, and the winds and variations in cloud cover, created other hues, ripples, swells and whitecaps.

I watched. And looked. And listened to the incredible wave sounds—sometimes it seemed the Sea of Cortez was breathing with soft sighs. And my book or report remained unopened. I felt the stress of the previous month and the eight-hour drive (despite good books-on-tape!) overpowered by that feeling of peace and joy that accompanied the image in my mind. I tell friends that my Special Place is where I learned to simply SIT, to just BE and to enjoy the beauty and tranquility of the Place.

Life was good before I bought the house, but it’s so much better now! My environmental consulting business was eight years old by then and I was blessed with its success, but I’d been working well over 60 hours a week, most of it at the computer. I was exhausted, and since I was delegating to subcontractors most of the field surveys that inspired me to start the business, it wasn’t fun anymore.

But finding my Special Place taught me to say “no” so I could reduce my workload and extend my visits to a week or longer. Now, my work is busy in the summer, when, coincidentally, it’s too hot and humid at Home. But now I only accept projects I enjoy and work about 20 hours a week.

I’ve also made several friends, both Mexican and American. And I’ve upgraded to a newer, larger home that also stole my heart when I walked in; it’s a five-minute walk from the other house. That story is for another blog! Friends love my potluck parties since I’m on a bluff with a wide patio overlooking the long unpeopled shoreline to the north. We sip margaritas and munch home-made goodies (no Costco chocolate cakes or lasagna here!) while we watch the moon rising over the sea, and the aisle of sparkling water it reaches out to us.

Each morning I walk out onto my deck and smile, thrilled and blessed to be living in such a gorgeous place. I fill the bird bath and toss out seed, and sip my coffee while watching the doves, quail and black-throated sparrows enjoy their breakfast.

I miss my friends in the U.S., but I return about once a month, and they're always welcome to come visit me here!

and the guy? I have confidence he's still out there, somewhere, and will show up when I'm ready!