So far

Every big and little thing is finally in its place in our casa chica. After the furniture unloading and then the unpacking and arranging we fell exhausted into bed hardly believing we were actually, finally, sleeping in our finished home. A beautiful little pueblo-style home now exists where marked wooden stakes and white string once defined our claim. Furnished, the house looks bigger, surprisingly. I'm anxious for Allison to see her room with its handpainted headboard depicting a treasure chest on a beach, brimming with jewels while a wooden ship sails in the ocean--thanks to some unknown Guadalajaran artist. Does he or she know the delight they create for others with these heirloom pieces? We have no window coverings yet, so we tackily hung assorted beach wraps to the windows with packaging tape. Everything seemed to fit together perfectly to make for a cozy little abode. I like to sit and admire the scene; I can study it endlessly, admiring the furniture details or the glow of low wattage lamps against the yellow ocher walls and gleaming saltillo tile floor. I get up to move a ceramic bowl to another better spot, or stack the books in more attractive order, occasionally scolding Robert for polluting my serenity by leaving junk on the dining table. After one day indulging me in my new-house intoxication, he announced that he'd invited a few people over for cocktails (Tecate and Tecate Light beer) and our little house with the extra big terrace was properly christened. At first everyone crowded into the air-conditioned cool of the house. Then the sun went down and everyone filtered out to the upper deck and the viewing tower.

Three nights in our house. That is all we get. Tomorrow we leave for home. Five full days on the road back to our real home, the one I've known for nearly my entire adult life. Last November we arrived in Loreto Bay for an extended vacation; a break from our routine life to watch our house and the village go up, and an opportunity for Robert to take it easy after his heart attack. Four months turned to nine and a new intention of continuing on another year with this experiment in life-style change. I came with an open mind; I didn't look at Loreto Bay as a resort-in-the-making, but as a community we wanted to be part of building. In truth, it's a long way from being resort, and it's not possible to forget you are in Mexico experiencing small-town living. There have been days I've spent enamoured with Loreto's simple pleasures along with the grand beauty of the ocean and the Sierra mountains; and there have been days I've been disgusted with what I saw as cultural shortcomings and unreasoned behaviors.

Mostly what I say about living here is that something interesting happens every day; something odd or unusual like seeing goats graze on the golf course or an ice cream vendor on a bicycle. Back home my life was continuously busy, but nothing much interesting happened. Here, in this long respite of leisure I find I have little to do but I see so much. In so many ways it's been the most interesting part of my life--so far.

We'll be back by September. For the next few days I will be out of touch and sure to suffer internet connectivity withdrawl. That is another subject entirely: The question of could I live in Loreto if there were no high-speed internet. It's said that air conditioning ranks in the top ten advancements to modern technology since it opened the door to greater development in hot climates. This may be true, but it's the internet that kept me going in Baja California.