THE SCRAMBLE TO RELOCATE
By Mari Pintkowski
From: Embarking on the Mariposa Trail

Note: This is the seventh part of the serialization of Mari Pintkowski’s book, “Embarking on the Mariposa Trail.” The book is available at local bookstores along the Riviera Maya or on the author’s web site www.laselvamariposa.com For previous chapters see the PMN archives.

We had a firm offer in July on the sale of our house in Vail, Colorado. The best month of summer had arrived, and we were not ready to leave the mountains. We now had the time to enjoy the lazy days of summer in our sanctuary in Vail with its little sand-covered beach that Lou built beside streams and fountains. Lou got off the phone and announced, “You won’t believe this Mari, but Ed has agreed to let us stay rent free in HIS house during the month of August.”

The house closing took place on a sunny day in late July. From the real estate office window, I glanced across the highway in the direction of the early childhood center where I had spent twenty-five years as a teacher/director, and let out a sigh. The school building was crumbling before my eyes in the mouth of a bulldozer. I had closed The Learning Tree the previous year when I retired, and the Town of Vail was building a new center for children. This called for a good cry, along with a celebration.

Friends asked when we were going to get started with the packing. Ailish and Richard, my daughter and her new husband, were happy to take any and all of our furniture, as they were actively looking for a house to buy. I figured with the furniture gone, it couldn’t take long to pack the few other things that surrounded us.

One Tuesday, Lou came home from Aspen, where he was supervising an extensive house remodel, with a reoccurring shoulder injury that had given him the signal that he needed to stop working now. He resigned himself to the fact that he might have to have surgery, so he began turning over his remodel job to other subcontractors. After several consultations, MRIs and a bit of luck, he was told that his injury was a torn bicep tendon. This would heal on its own if he was very careful. This was enough incentive to put a stubborn man to rest. Together, we packed and readied for the final move from my house of twenty-six years, and transported what remained of our worldly belongings to Ft.Collins, Colorado where our daughter was living.

We talked about the type of vehicle we would need for the trip and knew that neither his van nor my small Subaru would work. I glanced out of the living room window and saw Lou in the driveway next door examining the neighbor’s 1989 GMC Suburban. We did end up purchasing this vehicle. It was in great shape and bringing an older car into Mexico seemed like a good idea.

In the meantime, Victor ( our Mexican friend and real estate contact who helped us with purchasing our beachfront lot in Tulum) offered to rent us his three-room casita at Vista al Mar for $100 a month. It was located only 100 meters from our own beach lot where we had plans to build Villa Mariposa as soon as we had a title and could secure the necessary permits. Victor was moving to town because his family was tired of not having a TV, since there was still no electricity on Tulum beach. I moved in with a friend and planned to use September to put closure to my work as an early childhood consultant, and a professor at the local college. Lou flew off to Mexico to remodel our tiny little rental home on the beach.

Lou dove into the project and got a taste of what building “Mexican style” was really like. Lou’s purchases of a Saw-zall, a giant grinder and a drill were teamed up with Victor’s generator. The Mayan workers, who were used to only hammers, chisels, picks and shovels, were in awe at what appeared to them to be state of the art building. While going about his daily tasks, Lou met the neighbors and began to get a feel for what it would be like to live in this sleepy piece of paradise. He sought out people we would need to help us get the necessary permits to build our house, as well as those who were also struggling with this process.Because any word on getting a title to our beach property was a priority to both of us, Lou reported to me that Victor had heard a rumor on the beach. Soon all the titles for property on Tulum beach would be released together in some kind of ceremony with the Governor in attendance. (This never actually happened)

At the end of the month Lou returned and we completed last minute business together. We packed up the GMC and drove out of Vail on a cold, crisp day. Winter in the high country was just around the corner. In the foothills of Ft.Collins, we would still have a little more time for making the final preparations before Old Man Winter blew his first breath.

After one more garage sale, and the purchase of a travel trailer we were ready to pack everything up into large plastic containers. We had to prepare a list in Spanish for the border crossing of all items in each of the 57 boxes, and the large loose equipment. Lou carefully guided the 12 ft. long trailer into the driveway and in went box upon box, along with some large tools and a massage chair. The bicycles were lovingly placed on their own fabricated rack and Lou drove the entire lot over to a concrete batch plant to weigh it and found out that we were only about 1000 lbs. over the recommended limit.

Under sunny skies with a chilly 45-degree temperature we drove away with a mixture of sadness and excitement that caused my eyes to overflow with salty tears. Each time I looked in the side view mirror at the trailer we were pulling, I couldn’t help but smile and think of how much we resembled the large land turtles that carried their homes with them from place to place.

** Stay tuned to read about the border crossing and how the dream unfolds.

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