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The Adventure of Moving to Mexico PDF Print E-mail
Friday, 01 April 2005

EVERYBODY HAS A DREAM

 By: Mari Pintkowski

After the last article I wrote in Playa Maya News on building a home in the jungle and living among the Mayans, we were often asked how we ended up in this part of the world. We all, at one time in our lives, dream of leaving our mundane world in search of an exotic paradise. My husband and I have a dream to build our new home on a gorgeous piece of property we purchased two years ago on Santa Fe Beach in Tulum. After the border crossing in Laredo, we embarked on a fabulous adventure on what we like to call the “Mariposa Trail”.  We made a conscious effort to let the mariposa (butterfly) be our guide. We wanted to make sure that it was the journey, not the destination we would reflect on at the close of each day.

One thing that was NEVER difficult to forget was that our 1989 Suburban was pulling a 4000 pound trailer tightly packed with all our worldly belongings. This move south of the border was not just a bump in the road of our lives, we had made a commitment to liquidate and begin anew in the Riviera Maya.

Muchas mariposas led us south from Texas to Monterrey with only a few being caught in the car grill. We climbed steadily up into the Sierra Madre Occidental mountain range. About twenty miles south of Monterrey we saw a sign to a resort and spa with a view of a cascading waterfall only 4 km away. The road up the mountain was very narrow and steep, not a good combination for the load we were towing. Every small town we passed seemed to specialize in a different craft-pottery, basket weaving, furniture making, wood carving, and textile weaving.  Each home/shop had a tope in front and was already closed for business.  Because it was late in the day, there were few cars on the road and workers were heading down on foot or horseback to the nearby towns.

When we reached the resort, which turned out to be more like 8 km from the base of the mountain, the gatekeeper informed us that a convention was taking place and there were no available rooms at the hotel. The journey down set the butterflies in my stomach whirling, but Lou was not yet finished with his backdoor tour for the day. We explored an overflowing lake area heavily populated with cars and “locals” having one last cerveza as the sun was beginning to set. We emerged onto the main highway out of an alleyway from the lake that barely contained the width of our vehicles.  Luckily the one hotel in the area had a room to rent in fact we were the only people staying for the night.

Later that evening, after unhitching the trailer, we explored the small towns along the highway. San Isadora had an impressive old church bordering the main zocalo where chairs and high tech media equipment were being set up for the evening’s event. We were intrigued, so we took a seat with a bird’s eye view of the festivities at one of the upscale restaurants encircling the park.  We discovered that the governor and other dignitaries were going to speak later that night following the entertainment. Children were bussed from neighboring towns to perform in marching bands and sing in a chorus. We felt quite fortunate to have stumbled upon a glimpse of the culture in a town where we were the only tourists.

The next morning as the fog that surrounded the mountains lifted and presented us with a glorious day, we grew concerned that the map routes we were following seemed to be taking us toward Mexico City and away form our coastal destination of Veracruz. We tossed them aside and Lou followed his pioneer instincts. We were soon on another of his backdoor tours heading southeast of Victoria.

Later that day, we were stopped by several police cars inquiring where we were from and where we were going. Some were just curious and wished us luck, while one in Tampico wanted algo (something) in lieu of taking us to the police station to give us a ticket for going too fast over a speed bump.  Does it seem to you that a car and trailer pulling over 4000 pounds could possibly have been speeding?  He settled for a $20 bill and we were on our way with only a few beads of sweat covering our upper lip.

Butterflies engulfed us as the road conditions got progressively worse.  The sign to Tuxpan was lying crumpled on an unpaved road off the main highway that we concurred could not possibly be the road we were searching for toward the coast. Before long we were heading over mountain passes towards Mexico’s interior. It was time to stop for the night. Finding a hotel with secure parking that could accommodate the car and trailer was always a challenge. Our luck changed and we found a suitable room in Huancate.  We were miles from the nearest tourist and this gave us ample opportunity to practice the Spanish we had been listening to on tape throughout our journey.

The next day, Sunday, we drove out of town as the locals, of Indian decent, were assembling for market day. The brilliance of the clear blue sky enhanced the colors that surrounded us. We spotted women in huipiles carrying colorful woven baskets, or displaying their wares on top of their heads while children ran along at their sides. Men were pushing carts and some had the cutest unsuspecting pink piglets in tow.  The scene created a collage of color and texture fit for a painting or a picture book.  

Our backdoor tour of the day took us high up another mountain where we passed open trucks filled with people coming into Huancate to the market.  Others were walking to the small churches scattered along the road in each of the tiny villages we passed. We were surrounded by rainforests that gave us a glimpse of brilliant flowering plants as we traveled at about 25 miles an hour.  We were heading back to the autopista but did not realize that we would be climbing up and down seven mountain passes in the Mexican Alps. We went from cloud forests to arid terrain with an occasional glimpse at snow covered peaks in the distance all in one day. We spent the night at the beautiful Sofia Hotel in Pachuca and collapsed in the luxurious surroundings.

We awoke to a sleepy city that was adjusting to the change in daylight savings time. Instead of getting started early and avoiding the morning rush-hour traffic we lingered and drove along with the hordes of others going to work on a Monday morning. We suspected our drive today to Veracruz would be an easy one.

Before long we found ourselves in monstrous traffic and smog, where raw concrete buildings were stacked on the hillside with tent cities below. Yikes, we were on the outskirts of Mexico City. The signage and maps were of no comfort as we crept along for over an hour until we found the signs leading to Puebla. Once we had made it through the gauntlet, we thought nothing could be worse until the next day’s adventure from Veracruz to Villahermosa.

We were delighting in watching the weightless wonders (butterflies) playing among the up and down drafts when Lou noticed something smoking and realized that one too many pot holes had snapped a spring on the trailer. After he assessed the situation and talked to a tow truck driver who had stopped to help another truck, we realized that we had no choice but to take off the trailer fender and drive slowly to the next toll booth where a mechanic was on duty. Now that we were back on the pay-road we expected to find much better driving conditions, but this was not the case in fact the autopista through this area was worse than any road we had traveled in Mexico thus far. The mechanic could not help us, so Lou unhitched the trailer, removed the spring and drove with it to the next town 40 km away to find a replacement or have a new one fabricated. 

 I decided to stay with my book and folding chair and guard the trailer from a spot under a nearby tree. It seemed like a safe enough spot with a bathroom, snack bar and the army post within shouting distance.  The scary part was that we did not have cell phones that worked in Mexico, so we had lost communication with one another for over five hours. After going to over ten repair shops, Lou was able to find a man who would make a new spring for him, but he would have to wait until dinner and siesta were over for the work to begin! Lou returned as dark was enveloping the hillsides and he set to work under the lights of the rest stop parking area. I think the snack bar ladies were just as excited as I was to see him. We had not been able to understand one another and I think they thought I was surely abandoned and would be going home with them for the night or longer.

As he propped up the trailer, the special built-in trailer jacks broke and we stood back in awe. Within minutes, six truck drivers came over with jacks, and blocks of wood. They joyfully worked side-by side with Lou replacing the new spring and in less than an hour the work was done. They left as quietly as they appeared and would not take any money for their work.  They seemed to appreciate our expressions of thanks, and sent us on our way with the words “Adios Amigos.”

The overflowing swamps we drove through the next day to Villahermosa clearly let us know that the rainy season was not over. A truck driver at a roadside restaurant confirmed this by letting us know that taking the coast road was not a good choice. We passed up many interesting tourist sights in this area, like Palenque. We promised to return rather than embark on a backdoor tour and take the chance of another problem developing with the vehicle.  We were so close to Tulum, a place we would soon call home.

Once we reached Campeche we began to relax and actually slipped into tourist mode for a few days and treated ourselves to a luxurious night at the historical Hacienda Chichen- Itza. We drove through a sea of mariposas along the Coba road before pulling into Vista al Mar, our temporary home in Tulum.  The 2,845 mile trip along the “Mariposa Trail” from Colorado took two weeks. We spent $505 in gas, and $300 in tolls of which $250 were in Mexico.  We were refreshed and ready to tackle the next chapter in our lives. Sixteen months later we are still following our dream!      

Mari Mari Pintkowski lives with her husband in Macario Gomez where they constructed an elegant B & B in the jungle while they wait for permission to build on the Tulum beach. Contact them at This email address is being protected from spam bots, you need Javascript enabled to view it or see the photos of their jungle lair at www.yucatandealdirect.com .

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