Retire in Mexico Our retirement story actually begins back in nineteen ninety-four. We were living in Sedro Woolley, Washington with our three sons where we owned and operated a photography studio. We became disenchanted with the struggle so we decided to sell home and business and retire in Mexico. After much research we decided on the State of Oaxaca. We appreciated the traditions and the manner in which the Oaxaquenos held fast to their culture.
We had a friend (Ray) in Sedro Woolley who repaired automobiles and spoke Spanish. Knowing of our decision to move south, he called one day to tell us that there was a gentleman from Oaxaca at his shop. We hurried over to Ray’s (and through him) we asked Felipe many questions. We saw Felipe often and built a friendship. By the time he returned to Mexico, we received an invite to stay with him if we ever came down.
A few months later both the house and business sold. We’d bought a nineteen sixty-four-school bus that we packed full including a large roof rack that ran the length of the bus.
Most of our friends weren’t very supportive. They wondered why we would leave a good business and the safety of the United States especially with our three sons. I think there were some who thought we’d never reach Oaxaca alive.
When I think back about driving that bus through Mexico, I shudder a little. Sometimes innocence or lack of sense opens doors that might ordinarily stay closed. At the time I was the only one in the family who spoke Spanish (very limited) but the boys picked it up quickly as we slowly traveled through Mexico. Many of the roads in Mexico are very narrow especially back in ninety-four. We have a little Toyota pickup now, which maneuvers quite nicely here. But I often think back to that first trip in that big old bus.
 We made it safely to Oaxaca. The ride down was an adventure that no one in the family will ever forget. We were immediately mesmerized by the foreignness of almost everything. We quickly learned that the Mexicans were friendly and always eager to help. Asking for directions was pretty comical. Understanding the directions was near impossible. We stopped often on the way down ultimately taking two weeks to complete our journey.
We used Felipe’s mailing address as a final destination. The address was in Mitla. When we arrived in Mitla (a small town), we asked for Felipe. Word spread around quickly that there were Gringos looking for Felipe and before long Felipe’s brother entered the bus. He told us that Felipe didn’t live in Mitla. He lived in a small rancho and had been sent for. While waiting we looked around and all agreed that this wasn’t going to be too bad. There were sidewalks, the street was paved, many people were dressed traditionally but many also dressed in a more modern fashion.
When Felipe got to the bus, we traveled to Union Zapata. Upon entering the village the shock set in. The roads were little more than riverbeds. Many houses were built from carrizo (similar to bamboo) with dirt floors. Many scenes could have been from two hundred years prior. I think a trip into the backwoods of West Virginia in the twenties would have been a major step up.
Felipe actually lived in his brother’s home. It was quite large. Felipe’s brother Jeremias built it while welding pipelines throughout Mexico. We were given two rooms and began the adjustment to the strange but marvelous life we would live for the next year.
In just weeks the boys were chatting in Spanish and enjoying their freedom. We’d planned to home school but ended up allowing our sons to experience life. We’ve never regretted that decision. They have memories that will be with them forever.
In many ways life was tough; washing clothes by hand, carrying water up from the well, trying to fit in, and of course attempting to learn the language.
 I think we all learned new things about ourselves that year. We did things we’d never done before. We relied on each other and explored together.
After a few months we began to look at properties. After much searching, and being rejected from some villages, we settled on an old Hacienda about four miles east of Tlacolula. The structure was little more than four crumbling adobe walls. No roof. The building had served as a warehouse for the Spanish. We reinforced the walls with fifteen tons of hand mixed cement.
We returned to the States and left the building in it’s still very rough state. When we returned to the US, I taught school and Beth (my wife) worked at the University of Texas at Brownsville. We didn’t return until 2003. Beth and I still felt the draw of Oaxaca but were still years from being able to retire.
We began to travel down twice a year. Through those years we made new friendships and became more familiar with the area. In 2007 we committed ourselves to finishing Don Pedrillo and retiring there.
The next few years we sent money down monthly to reconstruct Don Pedrillo. It was exciting to come down and see the advancements.
In all of our years of travel we never encountered a problem with the criminal element. We tried to drive only during the day but did end up driving past dark a few times. We stuck to main roads and tried to travel with other traffic.
Every trip we brought down items for the house. We were lucky in that we could shop for sales or used items. The Christmas before we retired a friend from Oaxaca drove up with his truck and trailer. I met him in Matamoros and drove the truck across where we loaded it and drove it back over.  Felipe allowed me to store things in an empty room. When we were ready to retire, Polo came back up with his truck and trailer. His vehicle along with our little pickup moved the last of our things.
I was sixty and Beth was sixty-one when we retired and left the US. We both receive partial retirement from the Texas Retirement System. As soon as we each turned sixty-two, our Social Security kicked in. We’d saved money to finish the house and buy appliances that we hadn’t bought in Brownsville.
We just passed the two-year mark here in Oaxaca. We continue to make improvements inside and out. Presently we are concentrating on our yard. We’ve planted grass and many trees some for shade and some for fruit.
We also spend a lot of time reading and visiting. I suppose we average about two fiestas a month. Beth loves to share American cooked meals with our friends so we often have guests. Our Spanish has improved to the point that simple conversations are easy. No one that worked on the house spoke English. That was challenging. Sometimes things came out a little different than we had planned but part of our retirement was becoming more flexible and less picky.
I don’t believe Mexico is for everyone. It’s different here. If you don’t have or cannot acquire patience, Mexico can be pretty frustrating. We interact very little with other Americans. We could but we chose to be with those who are around us.
The other day Beth and I were talking about hometowns. Both of us agree that Tlacolula has become our hometown. We are still living here on tourist visas so we have to leave the country every six months. We choose to go to the Guatemalan border to renew.
We do miss friends and family. Two of our boys do come down. Facebook, email, and Skype help us keep in touch.
We pay about $35 a month for electricity and about the same for propane. Our food bill is about $350 but we eat well and as I said we entertain a lot. Our truck insurance is about $450 a year. Taxes are almost nonexistent.
Some of my family and friends tell us that we seem to be living in paradise. I don’t know that I would go that far but we do immensely enjoy our lives here. Our home is in the country and the view around our home is beautiful. Strangers do not bother us. If we are living in paradise, it’s because we chose to believe it’s so.
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