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Published: July 21st 2022
Hola mis amigos!
I hope this blog finds you well in this “post-covid” era of life. For those of you who I don’t connect with regularly, a lot has changed since I last wrote an entry. And even my most recent two entries were about travel experiences long passed.
Brief recap: 2020 and 2021 brought me much peace and solitude, finding ways to explore on a much closer-to-home scale. With travel restrictions, and vaccination quandaries, and a general kerfuffle about whether or not it was kosher to roam again yet, I spent two years confined within the US, mostly New England, biding my time and playing by the CDC rules. This temporary stillness offered me a chance to travel inward: work on emotional growth and personal development, strengthen relationships with loved ones, establish healthy boundaries with the external world, and most importantly, dream.
During this time, I had the fortune of finding a scuba instructor position with a local dive shop; a career move that was almost dashed by the abruptness of a global pandemic and it’s subsequent devastation on the tourism industry. Not surprisingly, being trapped at home eventually made people stir-crazy, and ushered a wave of
blossoming thrill seekers to try something they had always wanted to do- learn how to dive! Scuba courses sold out faster than they could be posted to our company's website, and the number of annually certified students ticked higher than ever recorded for many small dive shops. I eventually came to appreciate the cold New England waters and undesirable ocean conditions; heck, I even took a drysuit course! But not all of my students shared this desire, and understandably so; the North Atlantic is tough on even the most experienced divers, and it certainly isn't very welcoming to those beginners. Soon I realized that a startling 85 percent of my Open Water students would join me in the local pool, and then immediately finish the course at a dive shop in Florida, Hawaii, or the Caribbean. After accruing a student count of nearly 200, yet only fully certifying 25, I instinctively knew that what I feared from the beginning of Covid had finally materialized- I was working in the wrong place.
Then with the blink of an eye, several dreams came true simultaneously. I reconnected with my dear friend Steve Crosby (see blogs on
Koh Tao and
Egypt) who unknowingly
ended up accepting a job in the same town I worked. We had stayed in touch over the years since working together in Thailand, but it was evident that our paths kept crossing a bit too serendipitously for us not to explore a deeper connection. Our meet-ups soon turned into dates, and friendship turned into romance. A few weeks into our relationship we were both acutely aware that our lives seemed to overlap comfortably and that years of getting to know each other had built a strong foundation of respect and trust. And that’s when Steve asked me to move to Mexico with him.
I’ll give you guys one guess what my response was… a resounding HELL YEAH!
Am I crazy? Possibly. Am I a vagabond who believes we should all say yes more? Absolutely.
Things moved very quickly after that point. I had had my mind set for months on relocating some place tropical for the winter. Ideally within a few hours distance of family, you know, just in case the world decided to go wonky again. Maybe an island, and definitely a location focused on diving. Steve had his eye on a favorite dive spot,
Dive Paradise
Cenote Poderosa, Tulum.Tulum, a rapidly developing tourist destination along the east coast of Mexico, known for its beautiful cenotes. Ideally for his ability to take a rebreather course and continue cave diving. Maybe to work for his favorite dive shop. Though I had never been to Tulum, I trusted Steve’s judgment and my own ability to find work. Once again, our wandering paths overlapped.
Thus began an epic journey from the rocky coast of Massachusetts to the lush jungle of the Yucatan peninsula. The ensuing months involved crunching overtime hours to earn as much cash as possible, mapping out a safe road trip across a politically-charged international border, and compiling a budget that would sustain us for at least six months without jobs. This last part was crucial, as we would soon learn that the ripple effect of Covid had led to changes in Mexican law that made the process of obtaining temporary residency and work visas very easy for one of us and very difficult for the other (read on for details).
Shortly after Thanksgiving 2021, Steve and I said goodbye to my family on the east coast and trucked our way south in his Nissan XTerra. We spent
El Popocatépetl
Active volcano in Puebla, Mexico the next ten days visiting friends and family in South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Texas, all our worldly possessions squished into the backseat and trunk space behind us. Then in the early hours of a muggy day in mid-December, we drove over the Rio Grande into Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. Almost without noticing. Other than stopping to pay a toll for the bridge, we didn’t register we had actually crossed the border until we reached a red octagonal sign bearing the command ALTO. It was way too easy! Having done our research, we knew we wouldn’t be allowed to drive a foreign vehicle beyond the exclusion zone (roughly 100 km/60 miles from the border), so we stopped to file the appropriate vehicle importation paperwork at the Banjercito.
The Banjercito is basically the Mexican border equivalent of the DMV. Having taken French in high school and Mandarin in college, my Spanish vocabulary was limited to words I’d picked up from pop culture, Dora the Explorer, and working at an aquarium in San Diego. I don’t think anybody needed me to chime in with “¡mira el tiburon!” while trying to import a car. Steve took Spanish in high school, and then
Mexican Roadtrip
Somewhere in Vera Cruz subsequently spent years of travel replacing this knowledge with Thai, German, Malay, and Arabic. Needless to say we were pretty useless, and must’ve appeared that way to the employees on duty, who proceeded to send us on a wild goose chase to various booths throughout the building in order to obtain all the mandatory copies and signatures. Per advice from the only English-speaking customer in the vicinity, we started this process with the associate at window #4. The agent at #4 told us to start at window #2, where we were promptly sent us back to window #4. The agent then advised that we actually needed to start at window #1, where we were sent back to #2, and then #1, then #4, #1, #4, #2, #4, until Steve finally got all the documents officially signed and stamped at window #1. I’m positive everyone in the building had a good giggle about it once we exited the Banjercito. But after only an hour of this deranged human ping-pong game, we had legally imported the Xterra and were free to travel about the country without any further fuss. Great success.
The internet and travel buddies alike had recommended taking inland
Yucatan Jungle
Lagoon boardwalk at Si'an Ka'an Biosphere Reserve highways and avoiding the coast for safety reasons. Happy to take the road previously- but probably not frequently- traveled, we cruised south through fields of joshua trees and agave in the Mexican state of Tamaulipas. We spent the first night in a quiet little mountain town called Tula, where hardly anyone spoke English, so everyone kindly insisted on teaching us Spanish. We tried our first authentic tacos, practiced peso arithmetic with a small auto parts shop owner, and took a sunset stroll around the town square.
In our research following this visit, we would learn that Tamaulipas is on the US travel ban list, and is considered, according to at least one article, to be “as dangerous as Syria”. I am neither a professional travel agent nor advisor on foreign affairs, but I would like to politely disagree with the American notion that Mexico is an unsafe place to visit. Without getting into the politics of it, the US is statistically much more dangerous, with an overall violent crime rate 8 times higher than that of Mexico, including a 33 percent higher chance of being murdered by firearm. Now before you go sending me articles on
drug cartels and gun traders, trust me, I’ve read them. The cartel presence around the border, and even in my new hometown of Tulum, is very real. Murder rates are statistically higher in border regions, largely between members in these illegal trades. I ask you to please consider the source of the demand; Americans and other foreigners create this dark market by seeking out that little baggy of pills or powder for their upcoming jungle rave. So my takeaway for all those questioning the safety of traveling in Mexico- simply say no to drugs, avoid looking for trouble, and don’t mess with the cartel. These rules apply ANYWHERE you travel; be smart and you’ll be safe.
The second day brought us unexpected car troubles that delayed our progress, leaving us a few hours shy of our intended destination for the night. Losing daylight quickly and finding the towns few and far between in Hidalgo, we took our chance on a rather risque form of accommodation. Fun fact about Mexican culture: extramarital affairs are regarded as a common occurrence. In the spirit of providing discretion, a special type of motel has become a popular roadside commodity. Known as “auto hotels”,
sex motels are pay-by-the hour rooms with attached parking garages, to conceal your vehicle . Most garages sport a giant orange curtain, but higher-end establishments offer electronic garage doors, making the parking not only discreet, but also secure. For budget travelers like us, this discovery was a goldmine. Our possessions would be locked up safely each evening, and we never paid for more than the 10-12 hours we would be occupying a room between long hauls on the road. I don’t recommend such housing for long term trips as the mattresses might as well be cardboard…probably because they aren’t often used for, *ahem*, sleeping. Otherwise, they had ample amenities- hot showers with complimentary soaps and shampoos, aircon, TV, WiFi, and even a room service menu. Plus a "special toy" menu for the regular intended customer (not the Happy Meal kind). Cleaning standards were very important, so we opted for well-rated motels and slept in clothes we didn't mind bleaching after the fact.
From the border to the peninsula, the desert slowly transitioned into mountains with winding roads, volcanoes, and tunnels carved into the sides of cliffs. The foliage gradually became lusher and greener the further south we traveled,
The New Apartment
95% of the decision was based on the built-in hammock hooks. until the jungle eventually engulfed us. The scenery continued to amaze, the cuisine burst with never-ending flavors, and the culture warmly embraced us. We spent our third and final night at one more auto motel, and then spent day four weaving through one of Mexico’s largest National Parks. The Reserva de la Biosfera Calakmul (Calakmul Biosphere Reserve), an astounding 7,231 km²/2792 mi² of protected jungle in the state of Campeche, is bisected by the two-lane “highway” route 186. Very few vehicles use this road as there are no gas stations or amenities within the reserve, just miles of dense forest and jaguar crossing signs. This jungle biome full of life and mystery fascinated me, and I grew increasingly more excited to call this place home for a while. That evening, tired and happy, we rolled up to our final destination in Tulum.
The first few weeks in town we sublet an apartment from one of Steve’s dive buddies and used the space to get our feet back underneath us. Steve took his long-awaited rebreather course, and I finally had a chance to dive in a cenote. Hooked from the first plunge, I promptly began joining cenote and cavern tours.
Fun Dives
STV on rebreather, KK on sidemount We eventually found our own apartment to rent, in a new complex, fully furnished and amply equipped, never before lived in, under budget, and with a spare bedroom for guests. And by guests, I mean our dive gear and a laundry line. Days were filled with learning dive sites and making local friends, getting to know the town and exploring the surrounding sites.
A major step in moving to Tulum was becoming legal to work and stay. Thankfully Mexico offers Americans a 180-day tourist visa upon entry, which bought us some time. I would need it. COVID changed a lot in the world, including Mexican visa laws. In order to help foreigners who resided here prior to Covid remain legally, Mexico made it very easy to apply for temporary residency if you had overstayed a tourist visa or entered by plane at least twice during the calendar years 2015-2019. This ensured that all the local expats, hippies, digital nomads and dive bums would stay and support the economy instead of fleeing home. As previously mentioned, Steve had been to Tulum several times during the above specified timeframe for training, etc. And because he was closely affiliated with a dive
Cavern Diving
Cenote Aktun-Ha, Tulum shop from said training, and was hoping to work for them, their company lawyer was able to get him temporary residency, complete with work visa, for the maximum four year length very quickly. Hooray! The issue however was that this rule did not apply to me. While I had visited Mexico many times in the aforementioned period, all of those trips were made by car, driving from San Diego down to Tijuana and beyond. The entire peninsula of Baja California (the state of Mexico just south of California) is part of the exclusion zone, and thus, no visa is required for entry. No entry visa, no record with the immigration office. No record with the immigration office, no temporary residency card under the post-covid laws. Bummer. So while it's been a frustrating few months, contacting dozens of lawyers, calling almost every Mexican Consulate in the US, and struggling to find a dive shop qualified to sponsor me, I finally have an appointment set with the Orlando consular office in August. Keep your fingers crossed for me please!
If you’ve read my other blogs, you know the
visa struggle is not new to me; in fact, it’s just part of the
joy of moving abroad. The road to becoming a full-time resident in Mexico will still have some curves, roadblocks, and glaringly enormous potholes ahead, but it’s definitely a ride worth taking. Literally and metaphorically. Without incriminating myself, let’s just say I’ve been fortunate for the built-in financial cushion I created, and I’ve found productive ways to further my dive career in the meantime. More details and big goals coming in a blog real soon!
If you made it his far, thanks for coming on this written journey with me. I’m happy to answer all questions on my personal life and experiences in Mexico, so please leave feedback or message me! Big thanks to my boyfriend Steve for being the best road-pilot and travel companion in the world. You made this move possible and I’m so excited for the adventures to come.
Til next time, buenos viajes, dear readers 😊
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Virginia Tibbetts
non-member comment
Great Post!
Wow! That was a lot to take in and I'm sure you left out a bit or two! I'm re-reading it again. What a great journey you are on and you seem to always find the best of any situation. You are a lucky penny! Be safe, be smart, and add lots of salsa! I love you! Mom