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!