The Saga of the Chicken Bus

Ricardo and Juanita Move to Mexico

An unlikely chain of events took them to Mexico from big, bustling Houston to live in a small mountain town of which they had never heard. There Dick and Carol Joan morphed into Ricardo and Juanita. These new names tumbled easily from the mouths of new neighbors and friends. It all seemed to start with the Chicken Bus.
They had lived in Houston for twenty-seven years where they led a conventional life. They raised three children, Juanita ran an interior decorating business, and Ricardo worked at a high-pressure job selling industrial packaging. He ended up having cardiac bypass surgery and he burned out. He may have been convalescing and vulnerable to suggestion when he came across the article that a friend had sent him some five years before. It had lurked quietly in wait for him, tucked away in one of his drawers. He happened on it, picked it up and read it again. It told about a town in Mexico where people socialize, have parties and their sex life improves.


Sounds good to me, he thought. So Ricardo did some research on desirable places to live in Mexico and bought a book that listed a number of good gringo habitats. He compiled his own short-list which included Lake Chapala and San Miguel de Allende, went in to work and quit his job. He gave Juanita the date of his last work day and his destination list. He thought one house for rent near Lake Chapala looked interesting.

“You should go and check these out,” he said.



Neither Ricardo nor Juanita had visited anywhere in Mexico except for quick forays across the border. Juanita showed Ricardo’s list to the woman from Mexico who sewed drapes for her. The Drape Lady shook her head. “I don’t think you will like gringo cities. I will take you to the places you have listed, but I will show you the real Mexico, too.”

“How will we travel?” asked Juanita.

“By bus,” said the Drape Lady.

So Juanita and the Drape Lady took two weeks off work and clambered onto a Chicken Bus. The bus was full of people and kids and wares of all sorts and, of course, from time to time, the requisite chicken or two. Juanita was worried that she would get traveler’s intestinal complaint. So she pressed her lips together firmly and resolved that, no matter what was offered, on her two week quest she would eat only rolls and avocados.
They visited a string of places. First the Drape Lady took Juanita to visit a house that she owned in the interior of Mexico. They had a nice stay, but the resources of the small town seemed too limited. On a succession of Chicken Buses they moved on, staying with drape-lady relatives here and there. “The gringa only eats rolls and avocados,” hospitable relatives noted at abundant meals.

In San Luís Potosí, there were no relatives so they took a taxi from the bus to a hotel. The driver pulled up to an establishment with women standing out in front. Their behavior and dress advertised their trade. This rattled the Drape Lady out of her usual equanimity. “No, no!” she insisted, waving her arms in the air. The taxi driver delivered them to a less colorful establishment. Juanita crossed San Luís off the list.

The two women visited Morelia. “Too busy, not here either,” remarked Juanita.

They proceeded to Pátzcuaro to stay with drape-lady relatives who lived in a modest enclave behind the bus station. Their house was well-kept and very pleasant. A cousin generously drove them to Chapala and Ajijic. Juanita visited the house that rented for US$750 per month. Chapala and Ajijic were nice, but everything "was in English." Juanita wanted more of Mexico. They visited Jocotepec, at the west end of Lake Chapala. It was tranquil, very Mexican and everyone spoke Spanish. Juanita could not talk to anyone. Great, she mused. I like this pueblo.

They visited San Miguel de Allende. Here Juanita again found English everywhere. The people whom she stopped to ask about San Miguel were too busy to help her. Not promising.

When they returned to Pátzcuaro, the relatives showed Juanita a house for rent down the street from theirs. It was vacant and she peeked in the windows at dusk. Although she could not see much detail, even in dim light the colors inside looked bright. She called Ricardo. “We’re moving to Pátzcuaro,” she said.

“Patz-what?” said Ricardo. He examined his list carefully. “That’s not on my list.” He paused. “Where is it?” he asked.

“I found a house. You’ll like it,” responded Juanita.

“What does it look like,” he queried.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it in the daylight. But you drive on a three-lane boulevard to get there. And it’s in a gated community.”

This sounded good. Ricardo had high expectations.

When Juanita returned to Houston, she and Ricardo began negotiations and somewhere during the course of things their plans to rent turned into plans to buy. To surmount the language barrier, they telephoned the Drape Lady in English, who telephoned the cousin in Spanish, who called back the Drape Lady, who in turn responded to Juanita and Ricardo.

“Let me negotiate the house for you,” said the cousin. “I can get a better price.”

To answer the cousin, they started through the translation circuit all over again.

“Send me money,” said the cousin. They did. He obtained the house for them.

“It needs paint, a sink and the water storage tank needs to be cleaned. My father and brother will help me. Send me more money,” said the cousin.

They sent more money.

The move was not too difficult because Ricardo and Juanita had already downsized their household once their children were grown. But they needed to downsize some more. They told each one of their children to pick out the ten things he or she would most like to have. If two wanted the same thing, a roll of the dice determined possession. They sold one car and loaded a U-haul to take to a freight forwarder in Laredo.

“By the way,” said Juanita. “We need to take a sink.” Ricardo said that should have been his most obvious clue.

“I still don’t know where I’m going,” said Ricardo. They called the Drape Lady. “I need directions. Ask your cousin how I get there,” Ricardo told her. One would assume the directions included something to the effect that they should drive south some distance and eventually turn right at Morelia.
The Drape Lady called. “My cousin wants to know what day you will arrive, so he and his father and brother can help you unload.”

“It will probably take a couple of days.”

On June 11, 2001, Ricardo and Juanita set out early on a fine day with their dog and four cats. They delivered their things to the freight forwarder and continued. Ricardo was committed to driving only in daylight hours, but by nightfall no hotel would take their menagerie at any stop, so each time they tried to get a room they went back out to the car and pushed on. By early morning hours of the next day the bedraggled pair arrived in Morelia. There they managed to check into a horrible hotel. Three hours later loud morning activity under the window of their room routed them groggy out of bed.

They finally made it to Pátzcuaro. Juanita could not remember exactly where the house was. “I know it was by a bus station,” she said. They eventually got directions. The Libramiento of Pátzcuaro that led them toward the house, before its current improvements, did not exactly match Ricardo’s mental picture of a three-lane “boulevard.” The two found their gated community in back of the bus station. Ricardo went into culture shock. The various houses on their street were painted a multitude of bright, happy colors. This was not staid U.S. suburbia. Ricardo suddenly remembered that Juanita had made him bring a sink. “Please tell me there aren’t dirt floors. Please.”

So on June 12, 2001, with help from the Drape Lady’s relatives, they moved into their house. The one installed sink worked more or less. The bathroom was a bracing purple. There were cement floors of a sort. The Houston apartment suddenly seemed palatial.

Juanita’s interior decorating experience kicked in. Construction began. They moved walls to make a larger kitchen. They added a downstairs bathroom. Juanita designed bathroom counters and picked beautiful Mexican colors. It was chaotic living in a jobsite, but the workers were willing and skilled, and finally the renovation phase was over.

The result was worth the wait. One walks through the front door into an oasis of tranquility in this two-bedroom, two-bath, two-story house. It is full of light and art and pleases the senses. The façade of the house is simple and understated; basically unchanged, it blends in with neighboring homes. Their finished house project cost them much less than it would have cost for a similar house in Houston. In addition, they can live comfortably on their social security income, something that would not be possible for them in the United States. Juanita and Ricardo certainly made an advantageous financial move.

What do they like about their life in Pátzcuaro? Three things top a long list. They like the people, whom they find to be helpful and friendly. They love the activity of the Centro of Patzcuaro: the market, the parades and the festivals. And they enjoy the small expatriate community. They comment that within a fifty-mile radius, there is much to do and see.

Ricardo and Juanita also enjoy their neighbors. On arrival, Ricardo walked their dog three times a day. The dog’s name was Happy, and the tall gringo and his dog soon became a familiar sight. Sometimes neighborhood children would call to him, “Hola, Ah-pee!”, addressing him by his quadruped’s name.

Their neighbors all watch out for each other, including Ricardo and Juanita. And on September 11, 2001, three months after Ricardo and Juanita moved into their house, the neighbors in their area came over to express their sorrow at the tragedy that had taken place in the United States.

As for some practical considerations, Ricardo and Juanita study Spanish when they can make time. Juanita has a neurologist in Morelia, forty-five minutes away. When she suffered a stroke, she received excellent care. The initial cat-scan and two-hour consultation cost $2,000 pesos. Ricardo found a cardiologist and he had knee-surgery (different physicians for heart and knee, you will be glad to know). He also is very pleased with his medical care. Their dentist is conveniently located in Pátzcuaro.

Ricardo and Juanita feel comfortable and secure in their daily activities. They regularly drive to all the villages around Pátzcuaro. They go with friends to eat, sightsee, and look for arts and crafts. They say they enjoy life in Pátzcuaro more than in Houston, with more time for themselves and more social life. They acknowledge that this may in part be due to retirement, but largely it is because of the interesting variety of activities available, the friends they have made in the small community, and the lower cost of living. Their dog Happy is no longer with them. Today another dog, Buddy, and two cats keep them company. Guests visit from time to time.

What do they miss? Shopping in the U.S. for clothes and some favorite foods they instantly answer—coincidentally a favorite pastime for mexicanos, too, when they visit their neighbor to the north.

In magical Pátzcuaro, a colonial pueblo that nestles at 7200 ft. in the mountains of Michoacán, an area of lakes, oak and pine forests, and waterfalls, Ricardo and Juanita enjoy their lifestyle. For this they give thanks to the Chicken Bus—and to the kind and enterprising Drape Lady.

1. A Pátzcuaro site for expats http://www.lakepatzcuaro.org/
2. Join for community and practical tips http://groups.yahoo.com/search?query=michoacan_net
3. There is a house for you in Patzcuaro http://www.novinger.com/patz-homes.htm

Plunge into Mexico

The Tale of Bekky and Miles

This affair of the heart all began with a 1994 trip. In fact, it was the beginning of a long honeymoon. Bekky and Miles celebrated their marriage with a ten-day trip to the Yucatán, and then continued their honeymoon with Mexico (and each other) returning as often as possible on a two- to three-week trip to visit different Mexico destinations. While revisiting Oaxaca in February of 2005 it hit them: “Why do we keep returning to Asheville, N.C., when we really want to be in Mexico? For one thing, we don’t like cute names such as ‘road rage’ and ‘going postal’ for what is just plain bad behavior.” So, in June of 2005 they made a trip with a different focus.

Bekky had only lived in the eastern United States and Miles only in North Carolina and neither spoke one word of Spanish. Well, that is an exaggeration. They could say “sí” and “no” and “gracias” with great flair. So armed with this aptitude, Bekky and Miles, aged mid-fifties and mid-sixties, started exploring with an eye toward a permanent move. They visited, of course, popular Lake Chapala and San Miguel de Allende, but decided they wanted to live somewhere more traditional with a smaller concentration of Anglophone expatriates. They said they wanted a mix of cultures and of people. Then they spent eight fateful days in Pátzcuaro. Bekky said she was smitten by the Plazuela San Francisco on sight: she could smell the plaza, she could feel it… It was right. This magical mountain pueblo, with its Spanish and Purhépecha Indian influence, was the place.

The Pie House

In 2006 they returned to Pátzcuaro to live for three months at the back of the Galería del Arcángel on Plaza de la Basílica. They had to walk through the shop with its beautiful furniture, paintings and crafts to get to their courtyard and small apartment. It was great. The owner, Hilda Villela, is a fountain of information about culture, crafts and arts. Acquaintances would come looking for them, stop by just to say hello, or entice them out for coffee on the Plaza Grande. They were at the heart of the Centro Histórico with its trio of plazas and diverse activities. They loved it. They did the deed. By June of that year they had purchased what is sometimes called the Pie House.

View of Lake Patzcuaro from the Bella Vista Terrace

After their three-month stay in Pátzcuaro, they returned to North Carolina. Bekky had previously resigned her fifteen-year job as Center Director for Asheville Parks and Recreation to work with Miles. Now Miles liquidated Stage Door, his twenty-year video rental business. They sold two houses. They were ready. They had some furniture delivered to a freight company in Texas to forward across the border to Pátzcuaro. On February 18, 2007, Bekky and Miles climbed into the Honda CRV that they still drive today and in a snowstorm headed south, permanently leaving Asheville behind.

Relaxing in the Water Wall Patio

The Pie House is two steep blocks from Plaza Vasco de Quiroga. A long-established Pátzcuaro family lived there. The long structure is very narrow on the North end and widens at the South end, just like a slice of pie fronting lengthwise to the street. Among a number of projects to adapt the house to their preferences, Bekky and Miles renovated the kitchen of the main house and created a nice one bedroom apartment in the spaces at the skinny end. A double garage separates the two living areas. Their Bella Vista rooftop terrace has a magnificent view over the town and Lake Pátzcuaro; it is a great place for a barbecue and for evening relaxation. The Water Wall Patio is private, cozy, and warm, a tranquil spot in which to relax, soak up winter sun, and read to the sound of falling water. The Pie House is comfortable and delights the senses with its aesthetics.

"Kutsí" is a custom sculpture from nearby Tzinztunzan.

In the foyer of the house rests an imposing stone sculpture of a woman. Let’s call her Kutsí, a word for woman in the Purhépecha language. Bekky and Miles had fallen in love with her in Tzintzuntzan—but when they went back to buy her, to their consternation she had been sold. They showed the sculptor the photographs they had taken and he recreated her especially for them. Delivering and placing this monumental stone piece must have taken ingenuity. She reposes on the marble floor with majesty, a solid anchor to this abode. In addition to the quiescent presence of Kutsí, a rambunctious bundle nicknamed Mo (so nobody will know that his name is really Maurice) moved in with Bekky and Miles, adding his wriggling, happy nature to the household. So far, so good. Mo has not jumped off the rooftop terrace despite his high jinks up there.

Mo, Miles and Bekky

What have been Miles’s and Bekky’s experiences in this mountain, colonial pueblo that lies at an altitude of 7200 ft. in Michoacán? Too many to tell here, but a few should be recounted.

A 2-car garage separates the main house from the apartment.

Because of the violence of the narcos so frequently reported and rehashed in the news, many foreigners have questions about security in Mexico. Bekky and Miles say they have not altered their lifestyle over the past year. As in the past in Mexico (as well as in the U.S.), they are cautious and mindful about where they go and what they do, within the parameters of good sense. They feel quite comfortable in their daily life.

In 2007, Bekky unfortunately suffered a myocardial infarction. Miles took her by car to Star Médica in Morelia, approximately 45 minutes away. Within an hour of their early morning arrival, Bekky was in surgery to have a stent put in. She was home in three days and is very happy with the attention and the medical care she received, which both Miles and Bekky say was excellent. Costs were much lower than they would have been in the U.S. and, in addition, the physicians spoke excellent English.

Bekky and Miles continue to be happy and active in Pátzcuaro. They founded the Amigos de la Biblioteca to assist the Biblioteca Pública Federal Gertrudis Bocanegra, and this group has made many valuable contributions to the library and the community that it serves.

What do they like best about their life in Pátzcuaro? They have a long list, but a few things stand out. In the United States they say they could not afford the quality of their home and its view. In addition, living expenses are cheaper. But they hasten to say that economics is not what brought them here. They came for the adventure, the interesting culture, the music, the food, the people… They are accepted by their neighbors, who they say watch out for them. They frequently participate in neighborhood festivals on their street. They started a “movie night” at their house every two weeks, to which they invite some eight children, eight to twelve years of age, for films and food. In addition, they have frequent contact with the small expatriate community of Pátzcuaro, comprised of individuals whom they find interesting because “as you know, the people who move to this area are somewhat eccentric”.

A blossom in the Water Wall Patio.

Do they have any complaints? They would like to see family more often, although they go for visits to the U.S. and family members visit them in Patzcuaro. And there is the language barrier with the resultant misunderstandings that can be both frustrating and comical. They say they need to continue to work on their Spanish. It seems, however, that they must have a few universal communication skills. With no international living experience, they moved to the Colonial Circle in the heart of Mexico, they manage to communicate with their neighbors and their “Movie Kids”, they are involved in service to the local community, and they frequently visit pueblos in the region to see the particular crafts of the local artisans. Life is good.

Bekky and Miles are unreservedly happy that they took the plunge.

1. There is a house for you in Patzcuaro.
2. A Patzcuaro website for expats: http://www.lakepatzcuaro.org/
3. Join for community and practical tips: http://groups.yahoo.com/search?query=michoacan_net

Patzcuaro: The Rites of Spring

March in Patzcuaro brings the delights of springtime. Every year the children parade in the Centro, delighting in the fine weather and their colorful costumes. Patzcuarenses clearly enjoy the activities of their pueblo...in which the rest of us are privileged to share.

Los niños se ven preciosos. See Patzcuaro: Spring Parade photos on Flickr.

You could be walking to the plaza from your house in Patzcuaro.

Discovering Patzcuaro

From a recent Mexico travelers' blog post, I excerpt the following testimonial to our fair pueblo:

"Monika picked another wonderful hotel - La Casa Encantada. Patzcuaro is a small, colonial city which has a great feel - gringo free. When we arrived, there was a huge festival going on and the whole city was alive - music, dancers, and a marching band making the same route that we did through the city earlier. We finished the day with a great steak dinner at an authentic Argentinian restuarant with a guitar [toting] crooner and his pint-sized back-up. Tomorrow we head to the lake for some more exploring."

Indeed, we do have frequent festivities and parades.

You can easily buy a colonial style house and a lifestyle in magical Patzcuaro.

Brunch at Mansion de los Sueños

A group of Patzcuaro women who can claim diverse countries of origin and who use English as their lingua franca gathered today for brunch in Priscilla Madsen's elegant dining room at Mansion de los Sueños. Future brunches are scheduled for the third Thursday of each month.

These Flores de Pátzcuaro are searching for a good name for the group.

The monthly brunch is a good venue to meet interesting people, for enjoyable conversation and to glean practical tips. Mark your calendar.

Cross cultures.

Live in Patzcuaro.

Patzcuaro in Forbes Top Ten Culture Areas

The many attractions of Michoacan, Mexico, have been recognized. Forbes has listed Michoacan in its list of the world's top ten culture capitals. See In Pictures: World's Culture Capitals at forbes.com.

URL: http://www.forbes.com/2009/01/15/culture-travel-destinations-forbeslife-cx_ls_0115travel_slide_6.html?thisSpeed=15000

You, too, can live in Patzcuaro, Michoacan.

Folk Art on the Plaza Grande

Parvada de Pájaros (Flock of Birds)

Hand-woven wall hanging

Artesanías Selectas, at Sur - Portal de Guerrero, 21, on the Plaza Vasco de Quiroga in Patzcuaro (Plaza Grande) has a wide selection of beautiful, hand-woven wall hangings with a variety of colors and motifs. They will custom weave a wall hanging from a painting for you, if you want a certain subject or combination of colors.

This particular wall-hanging features a simpático flock of birds.

For birders.

Obama in Patzcuaro

With friends, we watched the historic inauguration of the 44th President of the United States on Telecable, and then all ate a pozole on the back portal, accompanied by hummingbirds.

An Abundance of Good Things

I am thankful.

Live in Patzcuaro.

The Economy in El Norte

Yes, times are tough in El Norte.

Live in Patzcuaro.

The Origin of Lake Patzcuaro and the Egret

Bi-lingual text, based on a Purhepecha legend.

See http://birdpatzcuaro.blogspot.com/2008/11/legend-of-egret.html

Yunuen - An Island of Lake Patzcuaro

We head to Yunuen.

Marigold Madness

These two must have been sniffing them.

Wild orchids everywhere.


The cabins beckon.

Lovely Alicia.

We head home at dusk.

We had long wanted to visit the island of Yunuen, and recently picked a day to go. Serendipitously, we had recently met Alma Arias Navarrete. We discovered that she knows a family on the island and has formed the newly fledged Amigos de Yunuén, to assist the Yunuenses in promoting visits. She invited us to make our visit with her.

We leave Pátzcuaro by car through Tzurumútaro, by-passing Cucuchucho. I love this Purhépecha name meaning place of flowers--the syllables drop out of my mouth like ping-pong balls. Now get ready for oral gymnastics. Just beyond Yucazanáztacua (you will be relieved at "Yucas" for short), we turn lakeward at the Pacanda muelle.

Don Chava is our greeter lakeside, and Ivan, son of Alfredo and Alicia, motor-canoes us over. We meet four generations of Alfredo's family, from his father down to his grandchildren. Many Yunuen dwellers have left the island to find work and the remaining population is small. There are five families left, for a total of some forty-five residents.

The island is neat and orderly, and verdant with vegetation. I see not one dog or cat, but there are children, chickens, and carnitas on the hoof. We romp through an inviting field of pungent-smelling zempasúchitl, the untamed three-foot marigolds that the islanders have cultivated for Night of the Dead.

Alfredo walks us through trees and wild orchids to a high point where five cabins have been built. They stand silent, clean and empty, begging for visitors. They have small bedrooms and neat kitchens, and overlook the placid lake.

We have come in the latter part of the afternoon, to see the fabled egrets return to their rookery as evening approaches. Only Yunuen island hosts these snowy-white birds of Purhépecha legend. Alfredo tells us of large snakes with rings of black, white and red that grow plump on eggs and fallen fledglings. They do not kill the snakes, he says, contrary to what we know to be the practice in most of the pueblos of the area. The snakes are harmless, Alfredo continues. They just wind along through bushes and reeds, looking for breakfast.

We wait for Alfredo to have his usual evening meal consisting primarily of fried fish, hand-made tortillas and fierce chile perón salsa. Alicia is embarrassed and offers us food, but we smile and only accept one tortilla. The family did not know we were coming, and anything we eat will be taken from someone's mouth. Alfredo's father and the families of their sons and daughter, which include spouses and children, gather with Alfredo and Alicia for meals. It looks to us like there is one fish per family member in the pile.

At dusk, we glide over the water, past the egrets, and back to the muelle, as we watch the sun drop down through rosy skies to rest behind Janitzio island.

Yunuen is a tranquil place to visit. We think it suits visitors interested in nature and that it is a good place to bird

(http://birdpatzcuaro.blogspot.com/2008/10/yunuen-island-egret-rookery.html).

Take a photo trip to Yunuén

(http://www.flickr.com/photos/tracyzeye/sets/72157608404149031/)

Live in Pátcuaro, Michoacan. (http://novinger.com/patz-homes.htm)