Last Updated on September 10, 2021 by Kickass Traveler
Welcome to Mexico
How did we get here in Mexico, this land of mezcal and mariachi? We, a merry band of two friends and a cat named Maui, initially planned on living in Costa Rica. Somewhere we took a wrong turn.
Costa Rica, with its gorgeous greenery, stunning beaches, 98% literacy, and no army is quite appealing. However, after some consideration (and a few too many episodes of HGTV’s Mexico Life), it was decided that Mexico presented fewer obstacles than Costa Rica.
Most people think you just show up in a country, decide to live there, and it’s all settled. Each country has its own visa rules when you plant your feet on the ground. Will you be a tourist? Will you be a digital nomad? Are you planning a more permanent move?
In our case, we opted for a tourist visa because, hey, who knows which country we’ll end up in? Mexico is generous with its tourist visa of 180 days for Americans (note: 180 days not 6 months).
Mexico isn’t the only country that offers 180-day visas. You can chill on a few island nations, have a cup of tea in the UK, or stay south of “the border” in Panama (180 days) or Peru (183 days). Wherever you go, make sure your passport is valid for 6 months from the date of departure.
We chose Mexico because of the big expat community, it was close to the U.S., and the 180-day travel visa. At our age, we are less reluctant to move our numerous suitcases very often. And we are tired.
As much as we loved the idea of becoming fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants backpackers, with our suitcases and a cat, we needed stability. Plus, packing gets old. And we were tired.
First stop, Playa del Carmen. We decided to start with Playa because the Yucatan peninsula has so many options. Beaches? Check. Snorkeling? Check. Cenotes? Check. Mayan ruins? Check.
On our first day in Mexico, everything was new and everything was old. The obvious is an affront, with a new language, new customs, and a new time zone. Is it bravery to uproot your life or stupidity?
Each day in a foreign country is an opportunity for growth or frustration. The obvious is, “Can I drink the water?” (No.) The less obvious, “Where is the air conditioner? (It’s upstairs.)” “How do I plug my iPhone in?” (If you use 110 volts, so does Mexico, so plug away). Each day requires a certain level of patience and awe.
We rented an Airbnb, which is always a chance at rolling the dice.
Initially, we wanted to be able to walk to the beach, a purported half-mile walk. Mexico’s beaches are public, but the big resorts take up large amounts of property, so you’ll have to find how to access the beach without walking through a 5-star resort.
Before our arrival in Playa, Google Maps suggested that one can walk along the highway for an hour and 30 minutes to get to the downtown area. The map clearly showed a golf course, so we could sneak through and take a shortcut. Right? We didn’t allow for walled complexes. Big mistake. It’s true; Google knows everything.
After the first day of tallying taxi costs (triple cost for tourists, aka gringas) and non-existent bus stops, we decided to rent a car. We budget-conscious females cannot make a frivolous choice like renting a car without weighing the odds. There were no odds to weigh; we needed a car.
We christened the car, a Chevy Aveo, Carlos. On the first day together, the three of us headed to Petco and Walmart, Playa-style. The Airbnb was lacking a few necessary things. A clothesline for our wet clothes (we had a washer but no dryer). A cutting board. A mop. And lots of cleaning supplies.
Maui the cat liked that lizards would flit in and out of the house.
Welcome to Mexico.
Without offending too many cultures, let’s just say that we nicknamed the Airbnb the “Amish” house. The first week in Playa it rained every day. The second week we waited around for the various air conditioner repairmen to show up. Not one, but two leaking air conditioners.
Each day, from back home in the U.S., someone would reach out with, “Are you hanging out at the beach every day?”
Welcome to Mexico.
After two days in the Amish house, we rewarded ourselves with a dinner out downtown. We were warned by the locals about parking in Playa; use the meters or else! We braved the downtown area, spending 15 minutes looking for a parking spot and another 15 minutes trying to figure out the meters.
More rain. After coming home one day, the back patio was flooded and threatened to bring water into the house. There is a sad video of me bailing out the patio with a bucket while cleaning the drain of leaves as thunder booms in the distance.
We began calling the house the “Amishville Horror.”
Eight repairmen later, new air conditioners were purchased. At that point, we had spent about 70% of our time in the house, either waiting for the rain to let up or waiting for repairmen.
Welcome to Mexico.
After two weeks, we bargained with the Airbnb property manager so we could leave the house early. She was remarkably professional and fair about the situation, aka the air conditioner ordeal. We found a lovely condo in downtown Playa, walking distance to restaurants, shops, and the beach (really).
“Are you at the beach?” In reality, we had been twice. There was an issue with the sulphuric-smelling sargassum seaweed, so you had to pick your beach spot carefully.
We were excited about the move to our downtown condo. No need for a car, and the beaches were a quick walk away. The day before our move to the new condo, Becca stepped off a six-inch curb and sprained her ankle. The.day.before.the.move.
Welcome to Mexico.
How do you navigate an emergency room situation in a foreign country? We were lucky enough to find out when Becca stepped off the curb.
The following events proceeded in this order (and all of this is true, for the most part, with a small amount of embellishment).
- We drove straight to pharmacy #1 to acquire an ace bandage (as if that would help).
- From the pharmacy, Becca hobbled next door to a money exchange because that is where we were headed when she fell off the curb. And she was out of pesos.
- While at the money exchange, a kind stranger in line behind us, a Holiday Inn employee according to his shirt, watched Becca struggle with her Ace bandage (after she had gotten her pesos). He took the bandage out of her hands and wrapped her ankle for her. I believe his name was Alberto.
- Once home, Becca, in pain and not able to put weight on her ankle, conceded to an emergency room visit.
- A flurry of texts commenced between our local “friends” as we searched for where to get an x-ray.
- Off to pharmacy #2 where there was supposedly a doctor in-house. Nope. They sent us next door to a doctor we’ll call Dr. Clogs. He did not have an x-ray machine but instead sent us to an address downtown.
- Downtown, at the supposed x-ray place, it was closed when we arrived.
- It was now after 4:00 and Becca’s ankle had swollen to an abnormal size. Did I mention this was my first time driving in Mexico?
- Off to the large general hospital, which we had avoided until now because no one likes going to the emergency room in a large general hospital.
- Five minutes away from the hospital we chanced upon an Urgent Care private hospital.
- I swerved into the lot, illegally parking Carlos, and we ran and hobbled in.
- In this small, quiet hospital, not much was going on for a Wednesday afternoon at 4:30. I tried to explain what happened but couldn’t remember the Spanish word for ankle.
- Miguel, a 19-year-old nurse who spoke sufficient English, stepped in. With his sufficient English, my broken Spanish. and Google Translate, we got it done.
- Becca got an x-ray.
- The doctor on call spoke better English than some Americans I know. He rewrapped the Holiday Inn bandage and pronounced Becca’s sprain a Level 3 ( with 3 being the worst).
- Becca bought crutches, and later, a boot. It took her ankle a month to heal.
Welcome to Mexico.
The entire hospital process, from admittance to check-out, took about an hour and a half. The nurses, doctors, and administrative staff were courteous, professional, and patient.
The hospital experience could have been a disaster, but it was memorable. In a good way.
In every country, you’ll find people who are kind and people who are corrupt. You will find goodness and deceit. People will offer you help or look at you as a mark.
In general, our first month in Mexico was positive. Yes, some minor annoyances happened, but overall the Mexicans we encountered went out of their way to explain things, to provide assistance, or to walk us to our location when we were entirely lost.
UltimaUltimately, we are visitors in this country. When you visit a foreign country, try a few simple suggestions. Make an attempt in your host country’s language. Be courteous. Serve others with kindness. But, above all, offer respect.
Welcome to Mexico.