Musings on a Mexican Interlude

Most folks I told I was going to Mexico never heard of Lake Chapala, a region in the middle of the country bordered by mountains. Ajijic, where my husband and I are staying, is not only unknown to many travelers, most of whom gravitate to coastal resorts such as Cancun and Puerto Vallarta, but difficult for those of us unschooled in the Spanish language to pronounce.

Ajijic is a magnet for Americans, Canadians, and others looking for an appealing place to visit or settle, part-time or full-time. The climate is considered one of the best in the world, offering cool nights and warm, sunny days; the temperature hovers in the 70s most of the year. No heat or air-conditioning required. Housing and rental properties, food and entertainment prices have not yet skyrocketed. Medical care is accessible and high-quality.

But this is not a travelogue, merely an introduction to the place we are spending a winter getaway. No agenda, simply a place to escape the cold, gray weather back home.

We chose a perfect time to flee the Atlantic seaboard. Our town flooded as a series of storms pommeled the area, but according to our neighbor, floodwaters avoided our street. As storm waters rage at home (more rain and snow expected) hub and I enjoy a laid-back, quiet existence.  

Our boutique hotel consists of eight rooms in one- and two-story buildings that surround well-kept, verdant gardens and a pool. Flora flourish. The hotel atmosphere begs for quiet, and hushed tones prevail. The loudest sound is an occasional bark from one of the three resident dogs. From my lounge chair I view blue skies and leafy trees. Once in a while another guest passes by, greets me, and moves on, or takes a dip in the pool and spreads out on a chaise lounge to soak up some rays.

We enjoy the quiet inside the hotel walls for a while, but the bustle of life outside the hotel’s gate lures us into town. Hub and I walk along cobblestone streets bordered by raised, narrow cement and brick sidewalks. Street vendors and shops sell souvenirs, art, clothing, jewelry, ice cream, and snacks. Real estate offices thrive. Storefronts intersperse with private homes, and cafes and restaurants abound. The random peddler requests our pesos, but does not accost us. 

Mountains encircle the lake and rise above Ajijic. Along the lake the Malecon, the boardwalk, beckons. Not too hot, not too cold, not rainy or damp or dreary, there are no excuses for remaining indoors. We shed sweaters (except for a short time on a cool night or early morning), jackets, hats, and gloves, and don lightweight slacks or shorts and T-shirts. Sandals welcome. Outdoor dining encouraged. 

On the eastern shore of the lake greenhouses grow blueberries and other fruits. Few other structures mar the view of the lake’s shore, although several towns dot the lake, including Ajijic and Chapala. The lake stretches at its longest point 50 miles, 11 miles at its widest, with an average depth of 23 feet. The lake’s waters are not pristine, a result of past pollution. But the scenery is eye-catching, one more reason the area attracted visitors from the early 20^th century.

We discovered Ajijic, a locale ideal for folks trapped indoors for weeks by disagreeable weather, uneasy about venturing outdoors, nervous about falling on snowy or wet ground, weary of dressing in layers, bored with being a couch potato. The area appeals to individuals seeking warm weather alternatives but uninterested in pricey resorts.

On the other hand…we return home soon. Our comfy bed awaits, friends anticipate our return, family may or may not miss us, and volunteer activities call. I hope the worst of winter is behind us when we throw on coats and step off the plane close to home.