After seemingly endless planning and countless delays we’ve finally arrived at our new home in the village of Ajijic, just outside Guadalajara, Mexico, and we love it! 70 - 80 degrees year-round, the name on the door is “Hacienda Piña”
This is not your typical Mexican vacation home. For one thing it is nowhere near the ocean. It is not even anywhere near sea level. Ajijic (Ah-He-HEEK) is a small hill town (elevation 5,500’) located on Lake Chapala (CHA-pa-la) Mexico’s largest lake, warm during the day and cool at night. Our house is in the heart of the old village, about 7 blocks from the small ‘zocalo’ or town square. Some of life here is familiar, much is not. This is in no small measure, why we like it so much. If the big concepts, (civic, cultural, economic, religious, etc) are relatively easy to grasp at least in theory, daily life is much more of a challenge.
The most important merchant in the town ‘Abarrotes Vinos y Licores’ is just three blocks away. The abarrotes are kept at a minimum with the focus on the Vinos y Licores, which is just fine with us. Although not the purveyor of the finest spirits we’ve ever encountered, it is nonetheless the most entertaining and reliable place to find out what’s going on in the village. Although we are still unsure whether we will ever develop a taste for the local mezcal (MOO-n-shine), we are committed (purely from the perspective of cultural immersion of course) to consuming as many margaritas as is necessary to make an informed judgment.
From here it is just another few steps to the set of bright red doors announcing ‘Pollo Fresco’. The proprietor seems to have perfected the ‘fresco’ aspect of the business, most of the inventory is still walking around on two legs and apparently refuses to be shrink-wrapped to the styrofoam trays to which we’ve grown accustomed. The selection process therefore requires a greater knowledge of chickens than I currently possess. One must assess the age, health, portion, and quality of the chicken not by poking at the pale goose-bumped flesh beneath the cellophane wrap, but by a quick glance at it’s feathered exterior as it attempts to elude your studied gaze by dashing out the back door of the shop!
It is just a few steps further to the very best tortilleria we have ever found. Lionel Poilâne on the rue du Cherche-Midi in Paris, recipient of the Legion of Honor for his magnificent miche du pain does not have such a loyal following. Hand formed and lovingly patted to irregular perfection, these tortillas are the stuff of legend and song and cause long lines to form in early morning in pursuit of a daily taste of happiness.
The butcher comes to the zocalo each Friday. The neighborhood dogs begin to gather at the sight of his battered blue pickup truck and soon begin their weekly impatient ballet, nudging each other for position at center stage, leaping high and snatching the scraps tossed from the shop’s dark, crowded and noisy interior into the brilliant sunlight of the plaza. Whether its time to cash in your own pet pigs and chickens, or watch with smug approval as your neighbor’s rooster that used to awaken you at 4:30 each morning greets its final sunrise, this is the place to be on Friday mornings.
The rag man and the strawberry man, long departed from the streets of Boston, have apparently also retired here. Their sing-song invitations echo down the narrow cobblestone streets along with those of the tamale lady, the coffee grower and the knife sharpener. It sometimes seems like living in a Gene Autry singing cowboy movie or a Broadway musical where we should fling open our doors and burst into song; “Yes! Yes!! We’d love some strawberries! But alas we are but poor American retirees living on a fixed income and we have no money!”
San Patricio’s Day (March 17th) is almost as big a holiday here as it is in Boston, the difference is that here it is actually sort of a religious celebration (only with beer). The Irish, recruited by the US Government in the 1840‘s during the war with Mexico, quickly decided that they could not fight against yet another group of oppressed Catholics, and quickly changed sides. The Irish have been revered here ever since. Most of the locals believe that with the ever increasing proportion of Mexicans and Latinos in the Catholic Church, it is just a matter of time before a new pope is elected and mariachi music will echo through the halls of the Vatican!
The furniture that we packed and shipped from Seattle on the same day that we left has still not arrived. If getting our furniture through Customs is anything like we experienced with our car, our house may be furnished by Christmas, which is fine because the work on the house that was supposed to have been complete by our arrival is not.
Anyway, if you and your family would like to spend a week or two in paradise, you are of course always welcome. If you’d like to immerse yourself in Spanish, or hone your culinary skills in the perfection of the ultimate in locavore cuisine, experience extraordinary baroque cathedrals in turn-of-the-century Spanish colonial hill towns, explore millennium old Mayan and Aztec ruins, or just ride a horse on the beach in the glow of a vibrant sunset, mi casa es su casa.
While the distance may seem significant, it is not intuitive. Consider that the distance from Boston to Seattle is approximately 3,074 miles while the distance from Boston to Guadalajara is only 4,492 kilometers! When converted to something understandable what this really means is that you now have no excuse but to come and visit since we’re now several miles (and two time-zones) closer than we were when we lived in Seattle. For those of you living in New York and Ohio, we’re practically living in your back yard!
The sun is warm here and Cathy’s long and bone wearying struggle with arthritis will find at least temporary respite from the cold and damp of the Pacific Northwest. For our son, Aaron this decision is just final proof of what he has suspected for many years... that his parents are simply out of their minds. We have not yet convinced him to move here with us, but we’re working on it.
The Irish-Mexican-Mariachi-Bagpipe Band is still in the planning stages. We’ll keep you informed of our progress.
