I like to pretend that things just kind of happen to me.
“And next thing I knew,” I tell people. “I was living in Mexico.” I say the words, “in Mexico,” with a bit of an upswing for dramatic effect and pause to wait for them to react. I expect people to say things like,
“Wow, that’s crazy.”
“Awesome story.”
“Amazing!”
Usually they do. Although the truth is, it isn’t that crazy and it definitely isn’t something that just happened to me. A series of life choices landed me in Latin America 14 years ago. Conscious decisions I have made brought me to Mexico five years ago, and several very intentional choices I continue to make on a daily basis keep me here. I live in Mexico because I want to live here. I live here because I love it here.
I live on the Pacific Coast in Bahia de Banderas, Nayarit – just north of the well-known tourist hub of Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco. I live here because my husband and I are committed to providing our children with the quality of life, exposure to different cultures, and forms of social-emotional education they receive here. We live in Mexico because we genuinely enjoy our daily interactions with people here, who are warm and inviting. We love the laid back atmosphere of this medium-sized Mexican bay town, the low cost of living, and a life without winter, among other things.
So.. How'd I Wind Up Here?
First of all, who am I anyway, and why am I blogging about how I wound up in Mexico? I’m an American, of middle-class origin who has lived abroad and been self-employed for my entire adult life. I have a fair amount of privilege that has worked in my favor, and I have jumped over quite a few hurdles as well. Despite the ups and downs, I can definitely say that breaking out of my comfort zone, learning a new language, experiencing different cultures and leaving busy city life behind has inspired, transformed and liberated me, and I want to share my experience to inspire others to take risks, think outside the box and pursue the life of their dreams.
I grew up in Philadelphia, went to college in Boston and was trying to follow a seemingly normal path when at age 24, I packed a camping backpack, stuffed my laptop into a purse, strapped on a fanny pack with my passport in it and headed to Central America to write travel guides, starting at Nicaragua. I didn’t get far when I fell in love with a small bay town on the Pacific coast, San Juan del Sur – where I stayed for ten years.
I loved Nicaragua and living in a small town for most of my twenties. I stayed in various different apartments, but everything was close to the beach. I knew everyone, including those native to the town, and plenty of foreigners to Nicaragua, particularly those who stayed a while as business owners, retirees, and tourists intoxicated by wanderlust who decided to hang around indefinitely. The sunsets were spectacular, the parties were off the chain, the climate was balmy and my social life was stimulating. I was young, I was single, and I had the time of my life.
As I started to near my thirties, I craved comforts that I couldn’t find in San Juan del Sur. I wanted produce aside from underripe tomatoes, onions and cabbage. I wanted the good stuff that I remembered from back home like spinach, mushrooms, asparagus and cherry tomatoes. I wanted all the foreign cheeses and snacks, and lots of variety to choose from. I could only find these gourmet items at a grocery store in the capital, Managua, which was a 3 hour drive away. So I would pack a cooler, and take the trip.
I also started to want beauty treatments, like acrylic nails and eyelash extensions, which they didn’t offer in San Juan, so I would also get those done while I was on these missions to the capital. I’d see the doctor or dentist too, if needed, and even check out SINSA, the Nicaraguan Home Depot, mostly just to wander the aisles. I would have to make a trip to the ‘upscale’ shopping mall, Galerias Santo Domingo, just to be in a mall. I wanted to smell stores and be around a bunch of strangers. After a while, I started to realize that perhaps I was outgrowing the small town lifestyle. I started staying in Managua longer and not wanting to leave. However, I didn’t really enjoy Managua or actually want to be there, which brought me to another realization – maybe I was no longer happy in Nicaragua.
Another fairly large complication with these extended trips to Managua was that I didn’t actually have a car, and I didn’t really have much money. In order to possibly afford a vehicle, I would need a car loan, and in order to get one, I’d have to be a permanent resident. In 2016, Daniel Ortega won his third consecutive election through unconstitutional measures and appointed his wife as vice president.
The following year, they took the throne of their soon-to-be ruthless authoritarian regime. I was due to upgrade my temporary residency to permanent, but it never happened. Initially the paperwork was processed normally, but every time I went to retrieve the actual ID card, they said, “We’ll call you when it’s ready.” Word on the street was if I didn’t have a direct line to ‘La Chayo,” ( the first lady/vp) it wasn’t happening. After a year of unsuccessful attempts, I decided I should leave the country. After all, I can’t exactly put down the roots required to enter ‘real adulthood’ (30+) as an illegal immigrant.
I assumed I would be repatriating to the US. My parents had recently moved to the Washington DC area, and I had stayed with them every fall for a couple of months for the past several years, working on the US aspect of my work and spending time with friends and family. However, life in the US also didn’t seem that appealing. I lived every day of my visits in sticker shock, trying to suppress anxiety about the prohibitive cost of living.
As I explored job options and conceptualized the projected income I would receive next to the anticipated expenses, I couldn’t understand how it would work. It seemed like I would barely scrape by for the foreseeable future. I also felt culturally displaced, like I didn’t fit in. Not to mention, everything seemed illegal, and I lived in a state of distress that I would be fined thousands of dollars and be sent to jail for breaking laws I was unaware existed. My life in the United States was defined by fear and paranoia, and the political divisiveness that characterizes US societal constructs only exacerbated this apprehension.
And then, out of nowhere, I wound up in Mexico. Ok, I’m kidding, obviously, but also not completely. I didn’t pick Mexico out on a map and buy a ticket and fly here to start a new life. I found myself here organically. However, there is something to be said about the power of visualization. Sometimes just picturing what you want can generate the energy required to manifest a desired outcome. I didn’t want to give up the laid-back beach-life or the Latin America lifestyle, but I wanted to be somewhere bigger, somewhere with access to the comforts of city-life without the stress, and with a little more room for growth and access to more opportunities.
It is also said that serendipity isn’t just luck. There’s a formula for it. It has to do with the connections you make, putting yourself out there, and opening yourself up to them. In his book, Engineering Serendipity, Greg Lindsay says, “It’s really the mental state to put yourself into a situation where you might be surprised or you’ll have an unexpected goal. But you also have to have the mental preparedness to recognize both the moment as significant enough, and then be able to exploit that moment. It’s a process.” In my case, a combination of visualization and serendipity provided me with an opportunity that carried me to the Pacific coast of Mexico
Paving My Own Path
When I moved to Nicaragua in 2008, I knew I wanted to stay almost immediately. Frankly, I knew before I even left the states that I did not plan on returning if I didn’t want to or need to. I canceled all of my contracts, moved out of my apartment, stashed the few belongings i had at my parent’s house and took off with no intention of going back.
Generally backpackers in Nicaragua are presented with three opportunities to prolong their trips: 1. Find a local job that pays about $150/month at a bar or restaurant, 2. Work in exchange for room & board at a hostel, or 3. Start your own business. I was much more connected with the Nicaraguan community at this point and didn’t want to live in a hostel, and the idea of working full time for $150/month for extra “drinking money” while taking a much-needed job that could go to a local didn’t appeal to me. But, what kind of business could I start?
I was working as a freelance writer remotely which provided me with some extra cash, and decided to volunteer on the side to teach English to the kids in the neighborhood I was living in. The demand for free English classes was high, and within months, I had dozens of students, volunteers, donors, and even a school building. Like any entrepreneur, I recognized a need in the town, and fulfilled it.
I chose to start a nonprofit and paid myself a modest salary of $500/month. For six years, I lived off of $6k/year until I was able to raise it a bit. Let me be clear, I do not recommend this. But at the time, I was young, and it gave me what I needed to cover my basic needs, which was enough for me then. Running a nonprofit organization was another thing that I loved doing in my twenties. I was driven by passion every day. I did something that mattered, and something that I cared about. I made a difference, and I was treated with respect.
As I got older I realized this organization was not providing me with the financial stability I needed or the equity I wanted, so I thought about transitioning out of the nonprofit industry. I also knew I wanted kids, and a family and to settle down. In my day-to-day reality, I was single in Nicaragua and running a nonprofit organization, but in my subconscious, these goals were prominent.
At this juncture, a series of serendipitous connections carried me to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, where I started a family and was eventually able to transition out of my nonprofit organization. Although it did not happen fast, and it wasn’t all through deliberate action, I was sure that this was what I wanted, and eventually, I landed where I knew I wanted to be.
How it 'Happened'
In July 2016, a colleague of mine met a guy at the late-night taco stop in San Juan del Sur, while grabbing a taco after a night of partying. She told him we needed funds for a specific program and he made a generous contribution a couple of days later. I reached out to him to say thank you, and he requested we meet. His company was looking for a nonprofit to support and he wanted to learn more. He was in Texas, where he lived. I happened to be in Texas a couple of weeks later for a fundraiser in Dallas, and we had dinner in San Antonio. I told him more about the organization and he told me he’d talk to his boss to request he make a larger contribution.
His boss did, and he also requested to meet with me in person in the DC area, very close to where my parents were living. I also happened to be there a couple of months later, so I jumped on the opportunity and headed to the office of the large corporation he ran. He was there with a couple of interested colleagues and his wife. They proposed something I never would have expected- expanding my nonprofit to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico (PV), where his wife was from. They decided they would come to see the program in Nicaragua in person over Thanksgiving, and if they liked what they saw, they’d fly me to PV to show me their idea.
Within a month, they were in San Juan del Sur, and were impressed with the organization, and by January, I was on a plane to visit Puerto Vallarta. They invited me to stay with them in Bucerias, Nayarit on the Banderas Bay at a nice resort. The first night we went to get pizza at La Postal, a cute outdoor venue with live music, and a variety of Italian options. The place was packed with tourists, and I could already tell it was a bit more upscale than what I was used to in Nicaragua.
The next day, they lent me their rental car and said to drive around town and get to know it. As I crossed the bridge from Nayarit to Jalisco and entered Puerto Vallarta on the main highway, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was a giant cruise ship anchored in the Marina, across the street from a mall, Galerias, just like the one I would travel 3 hours to walk around in.
The busy main highway along the beach was lined with hotels over ten stories tall. (In Nicaragua there are laws in place to prevent most building from expanding taller than two stories.) I noticed tons of shopping plazas with Walmarts, and so many different grocery stores. I felt like I was in both Managua and San Juan del Sur. That day, I didn’t make it to the famous Romantic Zone which characterizes Puerto Vallarta’s social scene & European vibe. Instead, I drove up and down the main highway in awe and went straight to the mall. I was already completely convinced this is where I wanted to be, but I kept coaching myself aloud throughout the day, “Play it cool, Dyani. Play it cool.”
The following day, we went to the school they wanted to work with in an area called Las Cañadas on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta, not far from the airport. The program my organization offered, ESL and enrichment courses to supplement the school day, was well received by the school staff and they immediately offered me an entire floor with four classrooms to utilize in the afternoons. The kids were extremely excited, embracing me immediately. We went into town afterwards and met with a notary about the details of nonprofit incorporation, which seemed straightforward enough.
That evening, the sponsors told me they were willing to fund a fair portion of the launch, although I would have to supplement it significantly with my own prospecting efforts. As Greg Lindsay says about serendipity, you have to recognize the moment and able to seize the opportunity when it presents itself. I didn’t know the logistics of how I would supplement these efforts, but I knew the moment was right. Things unfolded seamlessly and felt positive. A mentor of mine once told me, “If you feel like you’re fighting the current, turn and go the other way.” In this situation I knew I was going with the current, and I would have to trust it to take me to where I wanted to be.
In a way, Mexico did find me – but I visualized it. I knew what I wanted, and I chose to risk it all and make the move. Eventually, political disruption began to severely impact Nicaragua’s economy in April of 2018, and the foundation of the nonprofit organization I had founded started to crumble from the core. The pandemic further exacerbated this instability and made fundraising efforts increasingly challenging as tourism slowed down significantly in PV, whose economy relies heavily on foreign funds. The sponsors pulled, and we suspended the Mexico program, eventually resulting in my withdrawal from the organization.
In a parallel sequence of events, one month after I came here, a former lover of mine visited, we rekindled, conceived our son, and then our daughter and got married. We became parents, navigated the impacts of a global pandemic and both transitioned careers, but we stayed here in PV. You could say the US was, ‘too cold,’ Nicaragua was ‘too hot,’ and Mexico was ‘just right.’
You don’t need a specific career move or extreme amount of money saved to pursue your ‘just right’ place. For some people, this ideal place may be comprised of time between different locations that meet a variety of their needs, and others may find one place is enough. Regardless, it starts with a vision. It starts with an idea. It starts when you make a choice not to accept circumstances that aren’t working for you, visualize the quality of life you really want for you and your loved ones, and muster up the courage to take a couple of risks, trust your instincts, and dive in.
