THE MEXICO LAND DEAL—BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

 

A Dock in Quintana Roo

Back in San Francisco we returned to life as we knew it: work, stress and traffic. In our spare time we lived and dreamed Mexico. This Mexico dream Paul and I were creating went back to my flower child roots and gave me hope that I still had a bohemian streak in my now routinely ordinary life. 

Alejandro arrived mid-summer and we had papers drawn up as fully as possible without actual parcel numbers and the legalese required in a land buy. We depleted our savings and wrote Alejandro a check. Now we were one step closer to owning a beachfront lot in the Mexican Caribbean. To finance construction we planned to sell our California house but would wait until paperwork was finalized before taking that ultimate decisive action.

Every chance we had we ran back to Mexico. On one trip we sat down with Alejandro and drew up house plans. Not long afterwards Alejandro was back in the States. It was 1986. He’d finished construction on his Puerto Morelos home, built a cottage in back, and hired a Maya worker as caretaker. He’d placed an ad in travel sections of U.S. newspapers and rented his house out to tourists. Apparently business was brisk. We were impressed . . . again.

And what was happening with the title for the property? That’s why he was back in the U.S. To prepare the property for future sales he’d need infrastructure, electricity and roads, so he was looking for more investors. Paul and I decided to wait to take our next trip south until there was something we could sign, like the fideicomiso. 

By October I hadn't heard from Alejandro and we'd hoped to take a vacation at Christmas if the title cleared. Even though we avoided calling, not wanting to become nuisances, it had been long enough. His secretary put me through. 

"Hello Jeanine. As a matter of fact I'd planned to call you. I have news about the land. Some important news." 

As that sentence dangled before me, he continued. "Things have changed a bit and I've been waiting for confirmation. Now I have it. It was looking a little bleak for a few months and I didn't want to worry you and Paul. But here it is.

"It seems the State of Quintana Roo has decided to pre-empt my purchase of the land near Playa del Carmen. The state needs that land to build a new car ferry to Cozumel. They plan to move it from Puerto Morelos to Playa." 

A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. Pre-empted? Car ferry? "But Alejandro," I stammered. "What about our lot?" 

"That's why I haven't called for some time. I've been in negotiations with the governor's office for several months trying to sort this out. They're seizing the land by eminent domain and had planned on giving me fair market value for the property. Of course, their view of what the property is worth and my view differ widely. Since I purchased the property two and a half years ago, tourism has soared in Cancun and you've seen how Playa has grown. They'd planned to give me $50,000 US for the land and I know it's worth much more than that." 

By this time Paul was nearby and had sensed my anguish. He probably also saw I was hyper-ventilating. 

"What's happened?" he demanded. "What's going on?" 

I lowered the phone's mouthpiece and spoke over it. "They've seized the land by eminent domain and want to give Alejandro $50,000." 

"What?" Paul yelled. "Who seized it?" 

"But hold on, hold on," continued Alejandro. "I have more news, better news. My brother has a friend in the governor's office and he's convinced them that instead of simply giving me market value, they should actually find another piece of land—beachfront—and trade my land for this new property. It's taken a while to find something still available and a worthwhile swap. But we found land nearby. The parcel is much larger and it has potential, with a fresh water stream feeding into the ocean, and cenotes." 

Cenotes are freshwater pools common in the Yucatán as the Peninsula has only a few rare rivers above ground.

“Where it it?” I murmured, feeling like I’d just been hit by a Mack truck.

“It’s four kilometers north of Playa. The land is close to Capitán Lafitte. Are you familiar with that property?”

Of course I was familiar with Lafitte’s. It was a small, picturesque hotel with palapas on the beach and a restaurant. Quite the romantic setting, laidback and off the beaten track.

Well, that didn’t sound so bad. Lafitte’s beaches were something to behold. Maybe Alejandro had dodged the bullet by having friends in high places. Maybe we would still own land in Mexico after all.

But this part of our adventure let me know one thing for certain . . . when buying land in a foreign country, fasten your seat belt because anything can happen. We were heading for a very bumpy ride.

A Beach in the Yucatan

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

DIFFERENT STROKES FOR DIFFERENT FOLKS—NEW ERA, NEW EXPATS

 

A Tulum Beach

When I dreamed of living in Mexico, I envisioned a white sand beach, a sleepy pueblo, and a long walk to town. Utilities so vital today—phone service, TV/cable, internet—were not issues. (Specifically so with internet which wasn’t around yet). Maybe I was dropping out all over again, taking a breath of fresh air after living in a hectic 9 to 5 world filled with work, stress and traffic.

When I met the rare expat, many had similar dreams: Buy land, build a house and have a Margaritaville moment. Maybe forever. Today’s expats though far from home are doing the hustle but on Mexican time. Digital nomads search out cities offering world class museums and galleries, extraordinary food choices, vibrant music scenes, all set in an Architectural Digest’s dreamland of impressive colonial era buildings and drop-your-jaw-modern housing styles.

The nomads have embraced Mexico in a big way, from CDMX to Oaxaca City, Tulum, and places in between, providing that place has high-speed wifi, cheap rents and a robust night life. Nomads aren’t the only bump in expat stats: retirees, always a given in Mexico, are more prevalent than ever as they escape high price living and cold weather up north. 

After the cross-Yucatán shuffle searching for our spot, we’d met Alejandro while waiting for a bus on the remote Coba road. He’d given us a ride and invited us to visit him at his beach house in progress. We obliged and stepped into destiny—Puerto Morelos. His directions said to walk north a kilometer from town—his house would be the first we encountered. We rounded the last curve in the road and spotted it. 

The Mediterranean style house was a stunner with curved walls, arched windows and bright purple bougainvillea growing up the sides. We walked to the front door, knocked and there was Alejandro. As he ushered us through a beautifully carved mahogany door, we could see straight through to the Caribbean, a shimmering turquoise blue. It felt like we were coming home.

"Your trip it's been good?" he asked as he grabbed my duffel bag and waved us into a colonial style kitchen with views of the water. Paul grabbed my hand and squeezed it as we shared a glance in disbelief at this set-up.

"Of course you'll stay a few days, collect your thoughts, relax," he assured us, as though he were the grand tour guide of our lives. In the back of my mind I kept thinking, maybe he is.

He told us about property he had for sale, beachfront land in Playa del Carmen. The last time we'd been to Playa it boasted little more than a low-key dock and a handful of restaurants. But now a sense of purpose filled the air—there was money to be made. A fashionable two-story hotel sat near the ferry dock complete with plaza. And Playacar, an upscale housing development with a smattering of spacious homes, had materialized.

Playacar shared the northern boundary of Alejandro's land acquistion. Although not much was developed, the size of the lots and the looks of the homes told the story. Alejandro had big plans for his killer piece of real estate, too. Were we interested in buying a beachfront lot? You betcha, after hearing his rock bottom offer. Now how to pay for it. Master Card?

Things moved quickly as he explained the mystery of buying land as a foreigner. Though we'd heard of the fideicomiso, or real estate trust, he gave us a refresher course. When land was within 50 kilometers of the ocean or Mexico's borders, foreigners were required to have a Mexican partner in land transactions. Usually the partner was a Mexican bank that held a 50-year renewable trust. The fee simple title was placed in the name of the bank selected as trustee, giving the buyer full ownership rights to buy, sell, lease the land, or pass on to an heir.

"I'm still in the final stages of clearing title for my land," he continued. "Until that's finalized I can't subdivide the property but it should happen within a year." 

We looked at each other, aware of the other's thoughts. A whole year to wait. Alejandro must have read our minds for then he said, "Of course we can write up a formal contract staking out the lot you plan to buy. We'll notarize it and once the title is cleared, you'll be ready to build. We'll transfer funds at the time we draw up the contract and you can have your fideicomiso prepared."

This seemed an appropriate way to move forward. Alejandro would be in San Francisco in a couple months and we could then draw up a contract for the property. We shook hands on the deal, pleased with our good luck.

Since we still had vacation days left, we rented a bungalow near Alejandro's and settled into the solitude of Puerto Morelos beaches. At night we walked into town along the dark jungle road guided only by the rays of the moon.

We soon got used to the streets, the people, the tempo of life. We knew when the bank was open; what day the vegetable vendor set up his stand; what time to find the sporadic baker selling bread. We were getting accustomed to the polite nods or the occasional "Buenos tardes" from people we didn't know. We were fitting in. We marveled over the aimless dogs, sleeping in the streets in the sweltering sun. They weren't vicious nor did they bark. Even if a car came close to hitting them, they barely moved. To us this epitomized a sleepy pueblo on the Mexican Caribbean coast—life was so secure dogs could sleep in the street uninhibited and unconcerned. 

We'd found our place a the end of the world. We were on our way.

The author with Alejandro on the land. Photo Paul Zappella

If you enjoyed this post, check out  Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, on Amazon. My website is www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are also on Amazon. And my journalistic overview of the Maya 2012 calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed: Demystifying the Prophecy, is on Amazon.

HOW CAN MEXICO ADDRESS ITS STREET DOG PROBLEM?

Smiley, My Favorite Beach Dog

Mexico has many, many street and beach dogs. If you've been to Mexico, you've seen them—animals without a home, often hungry, sometimes unhealthy or hurt, sleeping on dusty pueblo streets. 

Unfortunately, according to the National Institute of Statistics and Geography, Mexico leads the pack in Latin America for the highest number of street dogs. Of roughly 18 million dogs in Mexico, 70 percent live on the street.

HISTORY

Mexico street dogs are scrappy and street-wise, a catch-all breed that most likely descends from stray and feral dog populations that roam the country's streets and beaches. Often these dogs aren't companion animals but forced to become self sufficient scavengers, canines closely related to dogs that roamed thousands of years ago.

PUERTO MORELOS

We were in Puerto Morelos for years and eventually ran into Smiley, one of the town's beach dogs. He started to hang out on our beach, coming for weeks at a time, and going equally as much. Beach dogs develop an attachment to people for a while, then move on. At times he was there every morning and he'd join me on my beach walks. People thought he was my dog. Nope, he's a beach dog I'd say. 

Beach dogs are uncannily smart and always seem to know where their next meal will come from. Before he made his way down to our beach a kilometer from the square, we'd seen him around town, not unlike his mother, Princess Coconut. Coconut was named by the staff at Johnny Cairo's, a local restaurant, where she hung out. She was a permanent fixture at the front entrance, and they gave her a pink rhinestone collar, thus the name. She'd follow young tourist couples who had doggie bags right out the restaurant door. Smiley had learned his tricks from Coconut. They'd follow the couple for a week, then move on. Maybe it was the best of all worlds. They'd have effusive love and food for a short while, but when things got too permanent, time for a change.

For me, I could always tell when it was time for Smiley to leave. He'd join me under the palapa where I'd read daily, lying on the sand next to me. Then one day he'd be a bit farther away, then the next—mid beach—then finally, at the shoreline. He would turn and give one last wag and trot off. A couple weeks later he'd resurface. No chagrin; he needed his space. And we always welcomed him back with open arms. 

We tried to take him to the vet once—but that didn't work out well. Somehow we wrangled a collar around his neck and nudged him into the back seat of the car. That lasted about two seconds. He pulled out of the collar in a move that would have made Houdini proud, jetted out of the car and into the yard. He waited for us at the gate, expectantly and a little nervous. Of course we obliged, opened the gate, and he bolted out into the sascab road. So much for good intentions.

ISSUES

Why does Mexico have a stray dog problem? The street dog issue—in Mexico and elsewhere—is complicated. Sometimes it comes down to pet owners who bit off more than they could chew, but often it comes down to limited access to spay and neuter programs—the keys to solving animal homelessness in the country. Often too in Mexico, dogs are expected to find their own food. It's a horrible sight to see homeless dogs, but even worse when they're starving.

Luckily there are many organizations and pet rescue associations that aim to spay or neuter dogs or find them a new home. Here's a list of pet rescue organizations in the Riviera Maya. If you live in Mexico and want a dog, consider adopting one from an organization such as those listed below. It's also not hard to re-patriate dogs, and organizations like these can set you up with the right forms and information on getting your new pooch from Point A to Point B.

Sparky on Isla Mujeres (photo Lynda L. Lock)

Author Lynda L. Lock, formerly of Isla Mujeres, adopted Sparky, a spunky little Heinz 57, who was so captivating he worked his way into her Isla Mujeres Mystery series, beginning with a cameo in book number one, Treasure Isla. And it didn't stop there! In the photo above, one can easily see he acclimated to his Life of Riley, waiting in his personal golf cart for the caddy to bring his clubs.

Many Mexican dogs find new homes abroad. This list of pet rescue services and organizations from Cancun down to Chetumal, though far from complete, is a start if you're thinking of taking a little bit of Mexico home with you in the form of a furry, four-legged creature. If you're local and need assistance with health issues or neutering, these organizations can assist or point you in the right direction. If you're not from Quintana Roo, locate a "pet rescue" organization in your area through Facebook. Many of the organizations need assistance in the work they do and if you're on an extended vacation and want to show support, get in touch and offer your services. Your love and kindness can create a whole new world for a stray and add an extra spoonful of sugar to your life as well. Viva Mexico! 

CANCUN

Cancun Animal Rescue and Adoption

Contact through Facebook page.

Riviera Rescue AC (Rescue-Foster-Adopt)

Contact Matteo Saucedo through Facebook page.

HOLBOX

Refugio Animal Holbox

Contact through Facebook page.

ISLA MUJERES

Isla Animals, Isla

Contact through Facebook page.

Clinica Veterinaria de Isla Mujeres AC

Contact through Facebook page.

PUERTO MORELOS

Food Bank for Cats and Dogs Puerto Morelos

Contact Claudia Mendiola through Facebook page.

Puerto Morelos Sterilization Project

Contact Betsy Walker through Facebook page.

Puerto Morelos Cause4Paws

Contact Diane Curtis through Facebook page.

Riviera Rescue AC

Contact Matteo Saucedo through Facebook page.

PLAYA DEL CARMEN

The Snoopi Project-Riviera Maya

Contact through Facebook page.

Coco's Animal Welfare, Playa del Carmen

Contact Coco through Facebook page.

SOS El Arca

Contact through Facebook page.

AKUMAL

Street Dog Strides

Contact through Facebook page.

TULUM

Alma Animal Tulum AC

Contact Alma through Facebook page.

Help Tulum Dogs

Contact through Facebook page.

MAHAHUAL

Costa Maya Beach Dog Rescue, Mahahual

Contact Heather through Facebook page.

CHETUMAL

Pancitas Felices, Chetumal

Contact Karla through Facebook page.

If you enjoyed this post, check out my other works, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya. It's available on Amazon with tales of expat life and living within 100 miles of four major pyramid sites. Also, check out my website at www.jeaninekitchel.com. Books one and two in my Mexico cartel trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown, are available on Amazon where you can find my overview of the 2012 Maya calendar phenomenon, Maya 2012 Revealed—Demystifying the Prophecy.

MEXICO'S MARVELS—CENOTES OF THE YUCATAN

 

Cenote in Yucatan 

Tangled green vines brush against my face as I trek behind our guide deeper into the low-lying Yucatan jungle. The narrow, gnarly path—recently cut by machete—oozes damp, musty smells.

It is July, rainy season in Mexico, and temperatures are in the nineties, a veritable heat wave. We’re in search of a cenote, a clear fresh water pool, also known as a sinkhole here in the Yucatan, a place the Maya named Sian Ka'an or Where the Sky is Born.

Although the Maya used these ancient wells as their water source in an arid land that offered few rivers, our search is for recreational purposes. We plan to cool off in the cenote’s crystal waters, to swim and maybe snorkel.

Traipsing through thick forest growth alongside a mangrove swamp, little did I realize this jungle spot forty miles south of Cancun and just seven miles north of Playa del Carmen (Tres Rios) would many years later become a major resort. With a wave of the hand, our guide motions us to follow.

Tres Rios cenote (haciendotresrios.com)

We ford the stream behind him and into a clearing. Now surrounded by brilliant green foliage, the scene becomes a primeval forest. The clarity of the cenote is beyond comparison. Gazing into it I see mangrove tree trunks reaching up from the pool’s bottom, breaking the waterline and stretching high into the tropical sky. 

Cenotes are plentiful in this part of Mexico and have become a favorite tourist attraction as vacationers discover they’re an ideal place to cool off in the sultry climate of the Riviera Maya. Nearly five hundred are known to exist in the Northeastern Yucatan where Maya civilization flourished for 3500 years from 2000 BC to 1521 AD. 

Cenote Bang by USGS.gov

To the Maya, a culture made great by ruling dynasties and strong religious beliefs, cenotes were more than just a water source. The Maya believed cenotes were the sacred entrance to the underworld of spirits where Chaac, the rain god, lived. On a parched peninsula, Chaac ruled in a long line of spiritual dieties. Water is life.

Of the Yucatan’s numerous cenotes, perhaps best known is the Sacred Cenote at Chichen Itza, a ceremonial center known for towering pyramids and spring and fall equinox displays of shadow and light. The vertical wall cenote has a diameter of 160 feet and measures 60 feet from its lip to the water surface below. Made famous by archeological explorer Edward H. Thompson, this well brought forth its diabolic history when Thompson dredged it in 1904.

Thompson knew Maya life intertwined agriculture, religion and water. Due to agricultural needs to feed a burgeoning  population, the Maya calendar was developed to determine auspicious dates for planting and harvesting. Thompson also knew the calendar was interpreted by the priests, but as their promises failed to bring rain, he’d heard human sacrifices were thrown into the cenote to appease Chaac. He was also positive that along with the maidens, other offerings would also have been made.

The Boston explorer tested his theory by creating a diving aparatus and taking diving lessons, hiring a Greek diver to assist him, traveled to Boston to buy a derrick and thirty-foot boom, designed his own diving apparatus, and shipped it all to the Yucatan.

Edward H. Thompson (photo americanegypt.com)

On his return, he dove and dredged the Sacred Cenote daily. Finally, about six weeks in, he came up with gold and copper discs, figures of Maya gods and the clincher, human skeletons. His exploration of the cenote proved that human sacrifice was indeed a part of Maya life, with human sacrifice hopefully giving them access to the rain god and his whims.

Chicen Itza's cenote is but one of many in the Yucatan. Part 2 will explore how cenotes were formed and give details on some of the more popular ones on the Peninsula. Stay tuned.

For more information on the Maya, Mexico and the Yucatan, check out my website, www.jeaninekitchel.com. My travel memoir, Where the Sky is Born: Living in the Land of the Maya, is available on Amazon.com. Also on Amazon, are books one and two in my Mexico cartel thriller trilogy, Wheels Up—A Novel of Drugs, Cartels and Survival, and Tulum Takedown. Subscribe to my blog above for my writings on Mexico and the Maya.