A Slice of Life

 

Almost as a lark, I looked online at houses listed for sale in the area of the famous south central Mexican city Oaxaca. Most of the better homes listed in town were too expensive, but one, on the outskirts jumped out at me. It seemed everything I wanted in a house and entirely affordable. I showed Amy and she liked it too, agreeing it was splendid.  I had been ready for a change of living. Amy and I visited and liked what we found. 

We have been living in our home 2 ½ years now. It is in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, population 3800, a pueblo a few miles west of Oaxaca. Our “pueblo” has municipal offices, a church and smattering of businesses. The drive 7.5 miles from our house to the center of the city takes about 40 minutes. In the USA it would take 20 minutes. The difference is because Mexico is the land of “topes” or speed bumps. We have to cross over about 50 to get in to town. But they play a part in reducing traffic accidents. I notice fewer accidents than in the USA. 

Our property has beautiful plant life. The German woman who built the adobe house with her Mexican architect husband was an agronomist. I spend considerable time tending the plants, but admit to enjoying the chores. 

San Pedro Ixtlahuaca does not offer much entertainment or other such opportunities, so Amy and I paid for a membership to an established hotel in the city. Hotel Victoria has extensive grounds. I gained access to a marvelous outdoor swimming pool. It is just right. Amy can lounge poolside reading a book while I swim. Food and refreshments are served up and usually the area is almost to ourselves.

So this is a slice of life here.

Cup Runneth Over

As the saying goes, “the cup runneth over.” When children arrive to our home on Sundays for art projects it is high energy in our otherwise mostly tranquil setting. They are excited before they arrive. Girls sit together and two boys are side by side, with a mother and sister at their table. The happiness level goes up even more once materials are taken up and projects begun.

Recently we have been working on making an alebrije; a magical creature of wood painted imaginatively in bright colors. On our recent trip to the the USA, Amy found wooden grasshoppers at a second hand store. There were many of them in boxes. “Hey, these would be great for our childrens classes!” she said. They come with a stick that makes a cricket sound when rubbed against the ridges at the bottom. We bought a bunch and brought them back to Oaxaca. The children have been painting them.

We allow limited entry in our house, mostly to clean up, use the toilet or head to the backyard. The kids are highly curious of our home since it is luxurious. Their eyes get big and mouths drop open. They are amazed we have two bathrooms, and hot water. Often the girls beg to stay when it is time to leave. 

There is a big tree in our backyard and when class ends the two boys jump up and run to it. The girls follow and before long all are swinging from limbs and laughing hard tumbling on the grassy earth.

Next project will be painting gourds. 

Also, we will hand out and discuss booklets made by an American veterinarian who lives in Oaxaca. It is how to treat animals respectfully. They also are coloring books.

We know we are making a difference in lives here in the little pueblo of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca on the outskirts of Oaxaca, Mexico. And we are being transformed as well!

Bloom Where You Are Planted

Amy and I moved to our house in the village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca 331 days ago. It is on the outskirts of Oaxaca, the famous city in southern Mexico. We love our home and agree it is the best we have ever lived in. Built by a Mexican architect and his German agronomist wife, money was not an object and great love was poured into it from the beginning. It has survived two earthquakes with barely a crack or dislodged clay roof tile. 

We are Americans in Mexico with permanent resident status. Amy read somewhere that the first year living in Mexico is the most difficult. Certainly it was shocking at first, and even now, there are some aspects we don’t like. The change has been more difficult for Amy. I don’t exactly know why, but I have adjusted from the start⏤even though Amy is much better at speaking Spanish. It is probably because I have reinvented myself so many times in life. I have been around the world twice, lived in many poor countries, been a homeless wanderer, and lost my oldest daughter to cancer at age nineteen in 1999.  I learned this life is THE DREAM, and we do not control it. It is phenomenal, surprising, sparkling, terrible, dark, light filled, wonderful and dramatic. It is best not to resist, but rather be in it totally and observe intently.

It is evident Mexico is poorer than the USA. We live amidst poverty here. A preponderance of streets are broken and dirty, maimed dogs wander around aimlessly, most people do not have cars and rely on little “moto taxis”. Homes are nothing more than concrete block walls or tin shacks. We live in grandiosity compared to our neighbors. 

Yet good values can be seen in the way love exists in families. Often people can be seen walking hand in hand. There is plenty of laughter, music, and occasions for celebration. Mexicans love festivities and participate whole heartedly.

The cost of food is about 1/4th what the USA charges. It is good and fresh year round. Oaxaca has fabulous restaurants. Archeological sites abound and indigenous cultures have deep historical roots going back millenniums. The climate here stays comfortable year around. There are two seasons; dry and wet. Our home is made of adobe and has neither heating or cooling systems. It stays comfortable all the time.

During my hippie days in the 60´s I read a slogan painted on a wall, something from the flower child revolution: “Bloom where you are planted.”

Vecinos

 “Vecino” is Spanish, meaning neighbor in English. I have lived in many places over the years and neighbors always influenced my life. Some are loud and brash, others secretive and hidden. There are those who are warm and engaging and others who want to be left alone. What matters most is if a neighbor can be trusted. Will they help in an emergency? Look out for your well being? Honor your property and basic rights? 

When Amy and I moved to Mexico, we knew no one except the realtor who sold us our home. Our house is set back off a dirt road in our village. We have scattered homes above us and below us. 

Our home is distinctly better than any others nearby. So undoubtedly people wonder who we are, but stay at a distance. We are friendly, offering car rides to those without a vehicle who depend on local tuk-tuk´s, and give work to people and almost always pay more than they ask.

The process of assimilation will take a long time here.

From our start in the village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, there have been “gifts.” We have met people who adopted us immediately. Foremost has been Salomon. He is short, coffee-brown colored and sturdy like most Zapotec people of Mexico. The former owner of our property liked him so much she gave away part of her land to him where he is building his home near ours. His family lives hours away at an agricultural cooperative, but he will eventually move them here. Salomon previously lived as caretaker in our house and has always been willing to help us when we did not understand an issue. He does not speak English but Amy and him get along  in simple conversation.

Lately Amy and I have been helping him with artwork for a powerpoint presentation he is scheduled to give soon. I redesigned a logo for his coffee farm cooperative. Amy made images for the opening page of his presentation.

No Address At All

It is one thing to move and find a new address to receive mail, and another to have no address at all. My brother was incredulous when he learned we had not an address. He was against me moving to Mexico from the start—for several reasons but especially crime that he imagined and also climate change studies. Brent is my “survivalist” brother. He married a woman from Mexico about five years ago. Last we spoke, he said he would be coming down soon, “Well, how am I going to find you?” I replied that I can give him a GPS location. Actually, it will be easier to meet him at the village church, next to the mayor’s office.

There are inconveniences we face everyday here in San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, Mexico. But because of the house, and having each other, along with a few good people we can call friends, we are hopeful and happy. The house is the most comfortable I have ever lived in. It has further possibilities—and is paid for in full. Cost of living is a fraction of what we were spending in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA. We have all we need.

I can’t speak or understand Spanish. Amy does to some extent. The climate is indeed hotter . . . with only two seasons: wet and dry. We are now at the end of the dry season, and have had a couple rains. Thank God because the landscape has been brown. Now some leaves are coming out on trees that I thought to be dead. 

The other surprise is insects. I have been spoiled by Santa Fe where there is hardly a fly to speak of and no mosquitos—only some garden pests, yes. But here I have killed three scorpions in the house so far. We have both been bitten by mosquitos and maybe some other critters. Oh well, I remember coming home to a rattlesnake coiled up in my front hall in Santa Fe.

Another thing is some inevitable culture shock. The main one being poverty and a sense that beautiful surroundings are not necessary. I have experienced this before in world travels. People have little to satisfy basic needs. Homes outside the center of Oaxaca are often merely pasted together sheets of tin, or unadorned cinder block houses without adornment or beauty. 

There are trees blooming here now that are simply divine. Especially the jacaranda. We have two—one in front and the other out our back door. If I were to make a painting of them, I would use a color called cobalt violet light. It’s my favorite color.

All THE WAY

Our house is magical; it drew us into itself. All the way from New Mexico USA to Oaxaca, Mexico, near Central America. 

We have met neighbors who know the history of this place and of the couple who built it. Everyone in these parts knows it as a landmark. Standing around a bend, on a hillside—unlike every other house for miles.

A Mexican architect designed it and his wife financed construction. Alfredo Figueroa was married to a German agronomist. There are stories about him. It seems he was a tall man with a long beard and something of a mystic. Our neighbor, who is a talented artist and craftsman, knew Alfredo and said that he made this house as if designing a sacred cathedral. And this is the way we feel living in it.

Our art work now adorns the walls. The neighbor Mayolo, has designed a magnificent wrought iron railing for our stairs rising from the front entry to the flight above. He built us curved curtain rods to go above the vaulted windows in our bedroom. We can see Mayolo’s house down below the hill—convenient because he can do so many artistic tasks for us, and knows how to help us with our new culture. The problem is he only speaks Spanish; like almost everyone.

We live among poor people. Dwellings are very humble compared to ours. Mexico reminds me of other developing countries I have lived in, like Egypt or India. Infrastructure is problematic, and being surrounded by manicured beauty is an unaffordable luxury. Amy commented that not many of our friends would like the conditions apparent in our village—i.e dusty roads, hardscrabble little dwellings that are hastily built . . . lack of sophistication.

I like that we often hear singing from the neighborhood evangelical church nearby. There are birds in the trees at our home that make remarkable songs . . . the best I have ever heard. Days are hot but nights are sublime. People are friendly and many have gone out of their way to insure our well being. Our magnificent cactus is beginning to bloom and attracting hummingbirds. We have bought a sturdy comfortable car—a Honda CR-V four-door with plenty of space.

There is a large paper wasp nest outside our bedroom window. It is at eye level hanging from an eve. To me, a thing of beauty—and I respect wasps because they help control insect pests.

The house is built of adobe blocks. Adobe consists of earth and straw. It is excellent at insulation and moderating temperatures. That is why it is commonly used in countries that are typically dry. We knew beforehand that this home has no heating or cooling systems. It is self modulating. We installed a ceiling fan in the bedroom and it is perfect.

Poco a Poco

Oh boy, what a wild and crazy ride it has been for the last three months. And now we are in Mexico, living in the house that brought us here. Many years ago I came to the conclusion that one has to accept the chaos that is part of life. Certainly in our experiences moving, there have been surprises that felt like setbacks. The big truck we thought would take our belongings turned out to be much smaller. Many of our possessions had to be sold or stored away and left behind. The ever present covid-19 pandemic made everything more difficult. The border between Mexico and USA is the busiest and most frequently crossed international border in the world. When our belongings reached the border, an official said our paperwork was not correct. Our driver paid the fee which seemed to be a bribe—and got through. Meanwhile, we flew ahead. All the while, our house beckoned us.

Moving to another country is far more difficult than finding a home within the boundaries of one nation. Amy and I applied for “visas permanente” and Mexico granted them to us based upon mostly financial factors. The little green cards with our photographs on them are protection and privilege yet do not ensure everything always goes smoothly.

We live in a little village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca, just outside of Oaxaca. It is rural, and lively in its own way. The drive into town takes far longer than we would have dreamed. 9 miles takes up to 40 minutes.The road is two lanes both directions and marked with frequent speed bumps called “tope”. The closer it is to the center of Oaxaca the more traffic becomes snarled. 

Mexico is also the largest consumer of bottled water in the world. Amy and I cannot drink the tap water, fortunately purified or filtered water is readily available in large quantities.

In our short time here we have met wonderful individuals who are eager to make friends with us. I only wish I could speak and understand Spanish. "Poco a poco."

Our house was built lovingly by a couple who were international. The woman was German and married to a Mexican architect. All the corners inside and out, are rounded. All the finishes are organic. I feel we are here to carry forward creatively. We have already begun.

Change In the Weather

 

A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves. —Marcel Proust

Santa Fe winter

Of a sudden, the weather here in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA changed from almost balmy to sub-freezing. The forecast for the next couple days is for cold, with blustery snow showers and temperatures below freezing. 

I drove this morning for my ritual Sunday coffee, slice of walnut banana bread and New York Times. Usually I eat at a table indoors, but since covid restrictions I have been outdoors. Since the weather changed, I have been sitting in my car, reading the paper and drinking coffee.

On the way home I thought of the changes occurring in my life, and especially our move to Oaxaca, Mexico soon. We will be going from four seasons to two: wet and dry. 

All my life I have enjoyed summer, followed by autumn, winter and spring. Winters are the most difficult. In the past, I took to the mountains to ski and it helped make the season more enjoyable. I have sold all the winter landscape paintings I have made through the years. Yet, as I write this, I am shut indoors with the furnace blasting, dreaming of spring. 

Front entrance

A couple weeks ago, we flew to Oaxaca to buy our future home. During those six days, we never wore our coats, and at least once I regretted not having shorts and sandals. 

Looking through windows to the front entrance

The first time we saw the house, last August, the surrounding corn fields were full of tall, green stalks. Our property had green plants and grass. This time, most of the colors were brown. I wonder what it will be like when the rain comes . . . for sure, I look forward to living in our new home and experiencing the afternoon rains. 

Back side of our home

For Amy and I, in our new home—a house made creatively with love—we will recreate our world and ourselves.

Immigrant

I am now an immigrant, along with Amy. We have “Residente Permanente” visas from Mexico. It all happened rather suddenly but a huge change is happening to us. 

During travels over the past 15 years occasionally a thought would come that I might move from the USA—to Italy, to Thailand, or Ecuador. Amy and I have been married three years and after a trip to Oaxaca I casually looked online at properties down there and found one that grabbed me from head to foot with a price tag that, compared to similar properties here in Santa Fe, was an absolute steal. (See: Mexican Home)
That was over a year ago. Now we own the home and property—outright. It is our dream home and 3 times as much space as we currently have. We can live there for about 1/4 the monthly cost we are currently spending, in a culturally rich region with pleasant climate and easy access back to the USA. Our realtor, John, (see Real Estate Oaxaca) said it is the nicest home he has sold. (Does he say that to all his clients?) His partner said it has "soul".
Further, I have found most of my income is coming from sales of my work online. Amy and I now have better studios, a wonderful home and can continue being creative—expanding into new venues as well. All the while sharing our work online worldwide. 

In order to qualify to move all our belongings into Mexico (one time) without hassles and taxes, and also get free medical and dental care, as well as easy access in and out of the country, we needed a special visa. To begin, we found the nearest Mexican consulate. It is located in Albuquerque, New Mexico, an hour drive south of Santa Fe. They informed us of the requirements to start the process:
• Fill the Application
• Copy of passport (NOT EXPIRED) and COPIES of all the pages that have any visas or stamps.
• 1 passport size photo
• Past 12 months of bank statements (checking’s/savings)
• Social security administration letter with monthly income if applicable
• Pension income letter if applicable
• Proof of purchased property in Mexico, Escrituras, if applicable
• Letter from the bank, stating NAME, ACCOUNT NUMBER/S, LENGTH OF THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN BANKING WITH THEM (MUST BE IN A BANK LETTERHEAD & SIGNED BY A BANK OFFICIAL).
• Typed letter stating reason for wanting to obtain a temporary or permanent visa (MUST BE SIGNED BY YOU & 1 PAGE MINIMUM)

•Marriage certificate if applicable (ORIGINAL)            

  
Once our application was approved, our passports were given a special stamp. We were told that we had 30 days (from our first entry into Mexico) to obtain our official “green” cards. On January 31 we flew to Oaxaca and six days later returned to Santa Fe—new homeowners and with our residente permanente cards.

To end this story, let me say that lately, every evening, Amy and I have been watching a program called Finding Your Roots on the PBS website Thirteen; “Presented and written by Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr., this series journeys deep into the ancestry of a group of remarkable individuals and provides new understanding of personal identity and American history.”  I have gained an invaluable perspective on the varied diaspora of immigrants that have come to the “new land” of America since before it's beginning as an independent nation. The people that were not slaves, prisoners or indentured servants, came looking for a new start at a better life. They came to escape dire conditions in their homelands and would face any hardship to pursue a dream of renewal and fruition. Often they arrived with nothing, strangers in a strange land, and it is a miracle to see present day descendants of these people discovering their ancestors for the first time on the program.

Me and John

Now, I know firsthand what it is to be a “stranger in a strange land” and feel kinship with all the immigrants of every era. Without our realtor John who is an American fluent in Spanish and lived and worked in Mexico for 36 years, along with his Mexican partner Luis, Amy and I would have been completely lost. We both agree that the hurdles of bureaucracy in Mexico for us—with limited Spanish language capability,  and all the appointments, waiting, and lacking necessary knowledge to attain our goals would have left us feeling helpless. At one point I admitted that without John, I would have given up in exhaustion and walked away from the deposit I made on the house. 

The day before returning to Santa Fe we had breakfast with a young man who has a moving business. We found him honest, eager and straightforward. He is recommended by John, and soon will be coming to Santa Fe to get our goods to take to our new home in Oaxaca.

See: Steven Boone artwork

It's Time

 

“No I am not roaming aimlessly

through the alleys and bazaar

I am a lover searching for his beloved”   —Rumi

For years I have been satisfied with enough money in the bank to travel extensively and not worry about a “home”.  After my oldest daughter died at age nineteen my marriage dissolved. My ex-wife bought my share of our home. Debt free, I realized I had lost my sense of having roots. The world called me to explore. Grabbing my art supplies and camera, I took off wandering.

Sometimes, when returning to live in my hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, I would go to a beautiful home and think, how wonderful to own property. Then I would search my soul to see if I had desire for such ownership. It wasn’t there.

I have been to the Taj Mahal, the Vatican halls, in mountaintop palaces. And I have been rapturously at peace and content sitting on earthen floors in houses of baked mud in Egypt. I have felt at home on the back of camels in Morocco or on elephants in Thailand. 

Then, impressed by somebody’s home and thinking, “do I want this?” the answer came back no; I have more. The grandness of the earth and its glory is my home.

I rented . . . and could come and go.

When a homeowner, I had always cultivated gardens. Afterward, I noticed an apathy about doing anything “rooted.” Might I be depressed? I wondered. Perhaps the loss of my beloved Naomi had torn me. When she left this earth, some part of me went with her.

I have been with Amy now three years.We married two years ago. For the past two years I have made a summer garden. The feeling of wanting to stop and settle, to be content with small things has come back. 

This week I sent money to a bank account in Germany. It is the downpayment on a home in Oaxaca, Mexico. The German woman who built it lost her partner and decided to move back to her native country. Now, Amy and I are moving from our native country to live in that magical Mexican house we found and love. We will own it outright.

It’s time.

“The world is one country and mankind its citizens”  —Baha’u’llah

Tell Her I Love Her

Today I wish I could call my mother and say hello, and tell her I love her. She is gone. I write now, and I realize she has only stepped ahead, joining my father, and my daughter Naomi. I have an impression of her great happiness . . . and this is what I can look forward to when I cross the threshold of this world to join them in the next.

I could have asked her much more about herself while she was alive. I know her childhood was eventful and traumatic—she was put in foster homes twice. 

Mother never spoke resentfully of her childhood, rather in a matter-of-fact way, and with some happiness. I long for more stories and facts. 

Thankfully, I have many wonderful memories of life with her. She bore five children and I am the oldest. For some reason, it is all flooding back . . . today is Mother’s Day.

I send her love and a bouquet of celestial flowers.

For more:

That Night She Died

Where The Heart Is

“Home is where the heart is.” 

Sometimes when I am traveling across the world, I find myself in an exotic place that so captivates me I begin thinking that it has my heart, and why not move to this enchanting place? It has happened several times in Venice, Italy. And in Paris, France, in Luxor, Egypt, Chiang Mai, Thailand, Srinagar in Kashmir, India. Now on my most recent sojourn, I fell for San Miguel de Allende in Mexico, and several locales in Ecuador. 

For the past week I have been staying along the coast of Ecuador. Life is peaceful, the ocean perfect, cost of living low. At The Hosteria Oceanic, in Puerto Lopez, for some reason, I have been the only guest! The staff like me because after all, it is a hotel and people should be here. The manager came yesterday to invite me to go with his family to Los Frailes, about twenty minutes drive. It is reputed to be the most beautiful beach in Ecuador. I had just had a big dose of sun the day before and was recovering so declined to be on a beach for hours, but was touched at his kind offer.

At Oceanic practically everything is to myself; swimming pool, dining area, wide expanse of pristine Pacific coast. I have daily room service, fresh linens, delicious breakfast . . . and at night I find I like eating dinner here too. The cabana is roomy and I have made it my impromptu studio. Just yesterday I was resting on the bed with the french doors open to a breeze. I had finished a painting and was gazing outside past a dangling hammock. I realized I had made a studio and could live like this for about half the cost back home.

For years I have not had an appetite for ownership. All I want is inner peace and freedom to be anywhere I want, but not permanently. When I was in San Miguel De Allende and found myself seriously thinking of moving there while continuing my art path, I stopped myself. 

“Home is where the heart is.” 

 My heart goes with me wherever I am.

Material Things

"Visitation" original photo by Steven Boone

For some reason I lost my attraction to material things about eleven years ago. I lived in a big house on beautiful land and did not lack for anything. It was all paid off. Stuff just didn't seem important to me anymore. I craved submersion in experience. Shortly thereafter, I sold off belongings and told friends and loved ones that I intended to “disappear into the matrix of the world.” Some laughed, but this is what I did. I left the United States and traveled around the globe for a year. Along the way, I stepped into THE DREAM, a condition of consciousness where everything has meaning and purpose but nothing is permanent. I loved being in flux—open to the next surprising event that would illumine my mind. Even the mishaps had a part to play in THE DREAM.

Laundry day, Burano, Italy

I am surprised that even now, I do not have much that I crave or need to have. I rent a house, own my vehicle, have essentials for my artwork and creative pursuits and am debt free. I don't need to own anything to be happy. I keep waiting for the feeling to come into me that says, “Buy something permanent.” This spring I got some faint suggestions that it might be nice to buy a house and live by a river, giving it my own artistic touches and making it a place of peace and creativity. But its just a romantic imagination. Perhaps it will arrive and perhaps not.

I have been going back to THE DREAM, seeing my life through its prism. It is fantastic and I feel it is my real HOME.

Dock at Ipsos, Greece

Turn Around

New Zealand wild beauty

Here I am, back in the United States of America for the first time since September 12 of last year. Following the scenario that seems sketched out for my life, THE DREAM has surprised me again and put me on a stage with a strange set and I have to improvise my part.

In New Zealand I had spent ten days on the south island and was preparing to go to the north island and explore further, making paintings, writing, and producing photographs when my mother died suddenly. I had been feeling strange for about week—bewilderment and tinges of grief after being adrift for so long, and then the news arrived to complicate my inner life further. Perhaps I had been unconsciously anticipating the death, knowing it would happen soon. My mother and I always affirmed our bond with each other by ending our conversations with statements of love and affection.

I felt better after determining to go back for the memorial. Yes, I would not be visiting the spectacular north island and doing what I had planned, but I would be going “home” and getting closure, bonding and celebrating with others my mother's life.

The home of my parents in Santa Barbara, California, USA

I have been alone in the home of my parents for several days. My sister arrived last night and a brother is to arrive today. Another brother is already living in Santa Barbara, and one brother is not coming—he lives in New York state. I have had continued feelings of being adrift and not knowing the future or being excited about it. But I am working at improving. There are reasons for everything that I feel, going back over the years and now with the loss of my mother. But yesterday I realized I could turn around the feelings of grief that are associated with loss. It takes willpower but I am doing it consciously—celebrating instead of grieving.

An "angel" cloud that formed over the house, the second night