Follow my blog with Bloglovin
I am not living the life I imagined. I think a lot of people can say that. For some, that’s a good thing. Or, it can be not so good.
Specifically, I’m contemplating the price of “paradise”…and if I want to pay it.
Tropica is in the news as the perfect place to live, work and retire. Real estate porn – colonial houses, pools, hammocks, low cost of living are why baby boomers are pouring into town. While the press extolls the beauty and virtues Tropica I’m thinking of going in the other direction.
In Tropica it’s always guest season. Living in a vacation destination means a lot of houseguests. I enjoy picking people up at the airport and having the stimulation and fun of visitors.
Being a good houseguest is an art, but it can also be a learned skill. If you have friends living in interesting places, and you are lucky enough to be invited to stay, it means you can travel all the more. So it behooves you to treat your hostess like the treasure she is.
Q: How can you tell it’s fall in Tropica?
A: The beaches are empty.
Fall in Tropica. The tourists are gone. Kids are in school. The hotels on the Riviera Maya are empty and prices are the lowest they’ll be all year. The snowbirds haven’t arrived yet. The air has finally cooled down to 80F/26C. The Tropicans are in bliss.
I’m filled with nostalgia for crisp air, sweaters, and the flaming colors of leaves. How I miss the autumn of my childhood in the U.S. Palm trees are always green. Halloween, which isn’t a Mexican custom, has drifted in nonetheless and is fighting with Christmas for floor space in Costco. Not a pretty sight.
Beware, this pool looks cool, but the water is hot as…
If it’s fall in Tropica, it’s bochorno. Sultry, stuffy, sweltering, sweaty, steaming, suffering, suffocating, swampy. Oppressive. Impossible. Giving up. Giving in.
It’s 7 a.m. and drops of sweat are sliding down my butt as I sit writing this. I am sitting still. It’s 7 a.m. I just had to repeat that.
This is luxury: Swimming in the Gulf and not seeing another person as far as the eye can see.
If April is the cruelest month, then August is the lostest month. And it’s a good time to find yourself.
Staycating is the ultimate vacation destination in August. The world is on vacation: crowds, higher prices, delays. True, there is a sense of joining in the fun, and many art and music festivals are held during this high season. But…
…the best secret of August is your own house.