I write this on the day before Easter, Saturday April 4, 2015. I bring that up because I am in Playa Los Cocos, which is about 10 miles south of San Blas on the mainland of Mexico. Los Cocos is my heaven and my dream for several reasons.
This morning we woke up to no electricity. Easter week is one of the biggest holiday weeks of the year in Mexico as everyone, and I mean everyone, heads to the beach. The entire stretch from Los Cocos to San Blas is jam packed with tent and RV campers along with visitors to the local beachfront hotels. Nobody works between Thursday and Easter Sunday in Mexico … at least that’s what I’ve been told.
I was up early this morning to witness the lunar eclipse when I realized our electricity had gone out. I called my real estate agent and he said, “Give me 30 minutes.” About 20 minutes later two young men from Mantanchen arrived in a pickup. They spent about an hour determining the problem (a defective ground wire from the pole) and went ahead and fixed it. I asked how much and they said sheepishly … 200 pesos. I happily paid it. Two hundred pesos, with the exchange rate of 15 pesos to the dollar, meant it cost me a grand total of $13.33. I tipped each of them 20 pesos and everyone was happy. I don’t even want to think what that would have cost me in Encinitas this weekend! It certainly couldn’t have been less than $200.
Yesterday I received an email from the escrow company that handled the purchase of my Los Cocos home. They informed me that all my recorded documents are available for pick up in Bucerias (near Puerto Vallarta) but that I needed to pay my annual property taxes at the time of pick up. My tax bill? Six hundred and fifty-three pesos, which is about $45. Again, that is my annual tax bill on a purchase price of $150,000 for an oceanfront home.
My girlfriend, along with her mom and dad, daughter and granddaughter, son, daughter’s friend, a cousin and her son’s girlfriend all joined us for Easter week. That’s nine and a half people in the house and guest house for a week and tomorrow, Easter, we’ll head off to my condo in Puerto Vallarta for a few days just to enjoy the big city … so to speak.
We arrived in Los Cocos last Saturday to huge frothy unrideable walls crashing right outside my back door. The waves were not good for surfing at all but I knew Las Islitas at Mantanchen Bay should be a perfect 2 to 4 feet in size. Since Las Islitas is in a sandy cove two points south and east of monster beach breaks, it is a perfect spot to surf for an old guy like me where I can paddle out and never get my hair wet (hopefully my editor can print the picture I’m attaching).
The attached picture was one of the smaller waves I caught but at least my girlfriend was kind enough to step out to the point and take the picture. For two days I had the break to myself. The third day there were three paddle surfers out and we never ever had to compete for a wave. We all would just wave to each other as we were either riding our half-mile-long waves or paddling all the way back out to the point. The water was a little cooler this time as it may have dropped all the way into the mid to high 70s but the air was closer to 90 degrees so the water was beyond refreshing and the waves were spectacular.
Again, there is absolutely nothing special about me. I am not some rich lucky guy that could buy a couple homes in heavenly places in Mexico. Nearly anybody can do what I’ve done. I am lucky by my own account for making the decision to do exactly what I’ve done but the saying is true that “we make our own luck.” Oh and by the way, we bought a 30-pound bag of oranges on the way home from surfing in the little town of Aticama, which is a couple kilometers up the road from my home. The cost of the oranges was 60 pesos or about $4. We also bought mangoes, avocados and certain exotic fruits that you cannot get in the United States, all for a pittance.
I’ll be back to the real world on the 14th just in time to get my stupid taxes done and take up golfing again but my visions of perfect surf all to myself and an overhead so low that it almost feels like a dream, will always be in my head.
What a life! I have nothing to complain about … well, actually I can moan and groan about the idiocy of our government but I’d be wasting my breath. Life is too short to be mad, but certainly long enough to be happy and live a dream.
Joe Moris may be contacted at (760) 500-6755 or by email at firstname.lastname@example.org