Saturday, December 31, 2022

Happy 2023: The Year of No Improving!

San Pedrito Beach, Baja California Sur, Mexico

In 2022: 

We did 11 housesits in 3 countries (including 3 U.S. states). 

Along the way we took care of:

15 dogs

3 cats

and 1 guinea pig


I finished writing my book about our itinerant life (title still in flux) and am hoping 2023 gifts me a publisher! In the meantime, you can read an excerpt that appeared in HuffPost. The piece makes clear that our lifestyle isn't all champagne and roses.

You can also watch this interview with Dave and me about housesitting all over the world. 

Also, a piece I wrote about housesitting in Mexico appeared in House Sitting Magazine

landing in Baja


We had one flight cancellation...our first in nearly a decade of nomadic living. Our flight out of Panama was cancelled. After a debacle of waiting for hours for our luggage and organizing all the passengers, American Airlines redeemed itself by putting us up in an all-inclusive resort for the night, including food and fancy rooms. They put us up in a crappy room the next night in Miami, but they paid so we couldn't complain (much). 

It felt amazing to return to Baja and to our home. We hadn't lived in it for two years, so we had a lot of projects facing us, but we took them poco a poco. The area has exploded with construction so there's definitely more people and noise--and we lost our slice-of-ocean view. 


Day of the Dead in Todos Santos

But we still have a nice view of the hills and there are also more restaurants and activities. We saw a great outdoor production of A Midsummer Night's Dream, went to a music festival, attended the consecration of a Buddhist stupa and enjoyed a fantastic Day of the Dead celebration. We were happy to reconnect with our community and had a wonderful visit from our friend Nicole.


With Nicole on our rooftop


In the meantime I turned the epic age of 60. Especially after facing two major health crises in my fifties, I was grateful to be alive. But I kept seeing ads and articles for getting rid of wrinkles, for getting thin after menopause--voices that insist that "60 is the new 18!" or whatever. 

And I thought NO. Just NO. 

I'm grateful to be 60. Too much of my life has been taken up with thinking that my body should be different than it is. So I decided that at age 60, I'm letting go of body shame and the toxic diet culture mindset (often wrapped in a pretty bow of "wellness") run by those who cash in on making us feel badly about ourselves and keep us on the "never good enough" treadmill. 

Pema Chodron says that constantly focusing on improving is a violence to the self.

Besides, aging isn't a disease or a problem. It's a privilege.

This leads me to my mantra for my sixties: NO RULES! I want to live improvisationally, allowing whatever is in front of me to inspire me to act rather than deciding in advance what I should/shouldn't do. 

I'm inviting in joy, relaxation, nature, naps, ambiguity, softening, reading, music, peace, creativity, humor, true connection with others, surrender and being here now

Speaking of reading, I read 65 books in 2022 (see my reviews here) and am constantly grateful for those who tell their stories.


Shannon, Anne, Laurie, Nancy & me

To celebrate my new decade, four amazing women joined me in Cabo for a week at a wellness retreat center. I know each one from a different part of my life; together we created a colorful mosaic of friendship. I ended our time together floating on a cloud of love.


Walking on Cerritos Beach with Deva, our neighbor's dog.


I think my sixties are going to be cool. Is it a cliche that I started playing Pickleball and went to my first Zumba class? I'm not sure if I'll continue on with either one regularly. No rules, remember? I'll decide each day, sometimes each moment, how I want to spend my living time.


Me with Mom, 60 years ago


The actual day of my birthday in November we spent with my sister and some friends at her new, gorgeous house in Todos Santos. The food (especially my sister's homemade carrot cake) and company were great, as was the music jam: three guitars and my uke.


Hawaii housesit view from the lanai.


We left Mexico after two months to housesit in Hawaii. So we will be ringing in the new year in aloha spirit. But after this we are headed back to Baja to settle in for a while. 

Happy New Year to all. Here's a Tibetan Buddhist Blessing that I send to everyone:


May you be filled with loving kindness. 

May you be well. 

May you be peaceful and at ease. 

May you be happy. 

Saturday, November 19, 2022

Panama Highs & Lows

NOTE: SADLY, FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON, BLOGGER DELETED ALL THE PICTURES ON THIS POST.

Villa Palma Boutique Hotel

No other trip in our time as nomads has taken us to such highs and lows as Panama. 

We began the journey in Panama City, staying in a darling hotel in Casco Viejo, the old quarter built in 1673 after the original city was burnt to the ground. The Governor had it set on fire when he got word pirates were coming to attack and loot it. That's one way to spite your enemies.

Casco Viejo

We visited the remains of the original city, now a World Heritage Site, with Carlos, our guide. He was the first of many amazing people we'd meet in Panama, a highlight of our time there. 

Carlos & me

Originally from Venezuela, Carlos is a single dad to two teens boys. I was amazed by his resourcefulness. During the pandemic his tour guide business tanked so he started cooking and selling food to neighbors. He did some legal consulting work, and he recently became a day stock trader. He pulls together all of this employment to support his family and so that his kids can go to a private school and play club-level soccer.

Screw Tower

His knowledge of the city was mind-boggling. When we drove around, he pointed out the wacky design of one high rise called Screw Tower, which he joked houses lawyers. We also saw the financial district, toured the high-end Jewish area that housed descendants of many who escaped the horrors of Europe, and crossed the Bridge of the Americas for lunch on the peninsula. Later, at the Panama Canal, we watched the technological marvel of a ship coming through the locks.  

the canal

Carlos pointed to a statue depicting Panamanian students who pulled down an American flag and put up a Panamanian flag in protest of the occupation. One was shot and killed, and that sparked deeper sentiment to oust the U.S. military. It took another forty years, but the U.S. finally ceded its massive landholds that had excluded Panamanians, including high-end properties and even the first McDonald's that allowed only U.S. citizens.

Lots of murals everywhere

I asked Carlos how the U.S. could have done better, and he said investing in the Panamanian economy and integrating into its society over their 80 years in the country. I hadn't realized that part of the U.S. military agreement to exit included dismantling the Panamanian military. So everyone we saw in a uniform was some version of police, not military...even those guarding the President who lived down the street from our hotel. In return, the U.S. agreed to have Panama's back in any conflict. Let's hope that is lived up to if, god forbid, it is ever needed. 

Panama City skyline from Casco Viejo


I love meeting world citizens and learning about their lives...and soon had another opportunity. At a restaurant eating breakfast, we chatted with the only other guests, two women with an adorable toddler. 

The mother is a 32-year-old German who has lived most of her life in the U.S. In her early twenties she worked as a cocktail waitress to save up money to travel the world for four months before entering medical school. Now she was a traveling M.D. who went all over the world to practice. Two years earlier, she got medically inseminated and became pregnant on her first try. 

The other young woman was her au pair from South Africa. She does MMA (mixed martial arts), bakes wedding cakes, models part time, draws animation, has exquisite tats, and has volunteered as a teacher for street kids. She loves traveling so this was the perfect job for her.



about to land at Bocas del Toro


Soon it was time to head to our first housesit, so we boarded a small plane that took us on the one-hour flight to Bocas del Toro, an island archipelago on the Caribbean. While we waited for our luggage at the tiny airport, a local guy played the guitar and sang "Don't Worry, Be Happy" and other island-inspired songs.

The homeowner, Carmen, gave us the biggest heart-hug I've even gotten from someone I'd met only by text. We followed her through the dusty streets of Colon, the central of nine main islands that make up Bocas del Toro. Most of the islands are car-free. I liked the feeling that I was plopped down into a completely new world, where people speaking a melodic Patois sold fried chicken and empanadas and meandered around on bikes and by foot. 

You can see the house we stayed in nearly hidden in the palms.

Carmen, who is Dutch, led us to a dock, where we boarded a boat for the 15-minute ride to Bastimentos Island, our home for the next month, caring for two loveable dogs, Stormy and Thunder.

Stormy on the dock

Carmen and Marcel's place is a BnB with several rooms and their own open-air home with a big kitchen where Carmen whipped up delicious food. Her culinary skills were the highlight of the five-star TripAdvisor reviews I'd read. Usually we secure sits through a website, but in this case I'd posted about us on a Facebook page featuring Bocas del Toro housesits...and a few days later a Carmen had contacted me.

exploring Colon


Renting power-assist bikes made for a fun day.


We'd been excited about the idea of living on an island--and indeed, the place had warm turquoise waters, palms trees, the works. However, challenges immediately became apparent. That night we found it hard to sleep in the humid heat with no A/C or a circulating fan, unsupportable in this off-grid place run on solar. While I worried about my ability to adapt, I tried to focus on the adventure of it all. Sitting in their home overlooking the dock and watching a spectacular sunset, my inner kid got a little giddy at the notion of living in the Swiss Family Robinson treehouse with a dock where we could jump in the kayak and go snorkeling at nearby reefs.

Unreal colors

I admired Carmen and Marcel's ability to relax into island life as lived by the locals. They were around our age but totally adapted to things that were a steep learning curve for us, such as walking the dogs on narrow, steep and often slippery pathways; handling all the house systems and their backups; and making meals from limited available foods. We also soon learn we'd have to try to sleep with late-night night party music blasting from the other side of the island. 

Swiss Family Robinson-esque

In our few days together, the hosts generously fed us, showed us all the important details (such as propping up a flag at the end of the dock to signal a water taxi to come get us) and took us out to dinner one night on Colon with ten of their good friends. There we met the owners of the Floating Bar, and another couple who picked us up every Monday in their boat to take us there for live music.

Laura, the Floating Bar owner, jumping into the Caribbean Sea.

What a cool scene, to be dancing with a crew of Panamanians, expats and travelers then, hot and sweaty, jumping into the sea. I also attended a few morning yoga sessions at the Floating Bar.

Floating Bar band


Because Bocas del Toro was a happening tourist spot, there were many kinds of restaurants on Colon, including a delicious Chinese place run by Chinese immigrants, as were the grocery stores. Hearing them speak Mandarin flooded me with memories of our time in Nanning, and I greeted the cashiers with a smiling nihao. 

We also found several places that served delectable whole fried fish. However, prices weren't what I'd call low...and getting to these places required paying a water taxi $5 per person each way.

Through our online groups, we discovered another nomadic couple from the U.S. housesitting the next island over. We ended up spending some wonderful days with Sarah and Jimmy, going out on boats to explore Red Frog Beach and the remote Zapatilla Islands, the definition of paradise with pure white sand and swimmable turquoise waters.

On one of our adventures.


On the way to Zapatilla, a glimpse of which is in the distance.

Sloth! 


We loved the Bocas boating life, the people we met, our time in the water, the creatures we saw. We agreed we would return if we had a place where we could retreat from the elements. The off-grid rain forest island life was sublime yet physically demanding and could be mitigated with a sealed, cool room to retreat and rest.

For our next sit we headed to Playa Morrillo, on the Pacific side of the country, taking a four-hour bus ride from Panama City to Santiago and were picked up by Gisela, the Swiss homeowner--and once again I was struck by how cool it is to meet a virtual stranger whose life we'd be living.


kale and lettuce, freshly picked


She took us grocery shopping in the city, encouraging us to stock up because we'd be spending six weeks at their home in Punta Duarte, nearly two hours away on mostly bumpy dirt roads, and food acquisition would be limited with two small grocery stores and a produce stand. There were a few restaurants, mostly small local places called fondas, which served meat or fish, rice, beans and plantains. We also met a guy who cut greens directly out of his garden to sell. What a character. He toured us around his property and chatted for so long that a trip to get veggies took nearly two hours.

View from patio off living room.

The house was a stunner. It had a huge kitchen and living room with plate glass windows that overlooked the yard and pool--and, thank god, fans and AC. In fact, our hosts insisted we run the AC in the main house and the three casitas for several hours most days to keep the mold away. 

Most days we hiked to the beach with the dogs and trudged back up steep and slippery terrain, stripping off our clothes and diving in the pool. Cheers to no visible neighbors! The gardener who came every week didn't touch the pool or mow, so pool and lawn maintenance were left up to Dave. Similar to the Bocas couple, this couple was about our age and hearty as hell. In spite of the AC, living there and taking care of our tasks was like pounding out hours at the gym every day.


Loved this daily beach walk with the dogs.


Dave and I talked about how every time we do a housesit there's an adjustment to the pets, neighborhood, house, location--which can be fun and stimulating, but also demanding. Both of our housesits in Panama turned out to require significant adjustments and more work and discomfort than we'd been prepared for due to their off-grid natures in humid environments. Living off-grid in Central America is peaceful yet it's not for wimps. 

In the thick atmosphere and howler monkeys eerily baying in the trees, it felt like being on another planet. At times I'd be walking alone through the jungle then emerge at a secluded beach and feel like I was the only person left in the world.

One of the many creature sightings.

Twice a week Dave got up at 6:30 a.m. to pick up the house cleaner and then return her a few hours later, a 45-minute ride down rutted roads each way. The homeowners left the money for her pay and gas, and we appreciated having a clean home. Also, she was a lovely woman, and I liked speaking Spanish to her because she'd correct me when I said things wrong. 


howler monkey


But the first day Dave got in the car to pick her up, it wouldn't start. The truth about living in the rain forest: the climate breaks things. Fortunately, we were able to borrow a car from Roger, the neighbor who, with his pack of dogs, was often the only other one at the beach. While we were grateful to have a vehicle, this was his beater car, an SUV with mold-eaten interior. It was like sitting inside rotting walnut.

jungle walk

Once we were driving with Beto, the gardener, in a downpour and the windshield wipers stopped, blinding us to the road. Beto told us to stop at a road crew construction site where he spoke rapidly in Spanish to a guy who dismounted from a tractor. It took him five minutes to fix our wipers, and he wouldn't take the money we offered. Later when we passed another road crew, I asked Beto if those guys were also his friends. He laughed and said, yes, they all were!

Parrots hung out near the house.

And then guess what happened? We caught Covid. Ironic that we'd contract it in one of the most isolated places we'd ever been. Must have happened at the tiny grocery store with dusty shelves. While we miserably nestled in bed, the dogs had to walk themselves (owner-approved) and returned looking like mud mummies. Had I mentioned it was the rainy season?

With Roger, may he rest in peace.

Fortunately, a week later we were back to our chores, sweaty walks, and heavenly pool swims. But then the unthinkable happened. We went to return Roger's car, only to discover he'd died the day before after having had back surgery in Panama City. Stunned, we thought about how life can change dramatically in one breath. 

I thought about all the people we'd met in Panama, and all across the globe on our journeys. Even though he left this plane, Roger would always be part of our web of connection.



***

Have a look at the video interview we did with Travel Live Learn:

House sitting in retirement – 9 years of freedom! - YouTube


*** 
PS: Books make great holiday gifts!

Call it Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit & Travel (award-winning memoir)

For the May Queen (coming of age in the dorms in 1980, with lots of sex, drugs & rock n roll)

Complementary Colors (what happens when a straight woman falls in love with a lesbian)

Revolutionary Kiss, co-authored with Mary Janelle Melvin under the name Mary Kate Summers (love story set during the French Revolution)





Friday, September 23, 2022

Housesitting near Lake Chapala, Mexico

Dave and Chloe on the San Antonio malecon


Our home base is in Baja Sur, but there's so much of the huge country of Mexico that we haven't seen. So when an opportunity came up to do a six-week housesit near Lake Chapala, the largest lake in Mexico which is surrounded by mountains, we jumped on it. 


Along the San Antonio malecon
the most pastoral of the three.

The Chapala community is primarily made up of three towns on the north shore of the lake: Ajijic, San Antonio Tlyacapan (where we were), and Chapala--each with a town center and a malecon or esplanade along the lakeside. 


Ajijic malecon


Ajijic is a charming pueblo, heavy with expats, covered in murals and dotted with boutiques, galleries, open-air cafes and specialty restaurants. San Antonio Tylacapan is much smaller, with a pastoral malecon and a downtown so tiny it's easy to miss. Chapala is where Mexican families tend to come from Guadalajara a weekend or longer holiday. Its malecon is lively in the afternoons and evenings, with vendors and big, touristy seafood restaurants playing live music.


One wall in Ajijic...


...and another.


A two-lane road winds through, connecting these communities. One main road means traffic, especially since the area has experienced a growth boom. Fortunately, there's also a bike path. 


vegan tamales & cacao drinks in Ajijic


non-vegan tacos


Green drink for me, fresh OJ for Dave in Chapala.


The growth is due mainly to retired expats, primarily from the U.S. and Canada, coming to a place where prices for real estate and health care are much more affordable. The good weather (it's usually in the 70s) is a draw as well. Food, however, seemed to us to not be as low cost, unless you bought street tacos and shopped at fruterias. That may be because a lot of the restaurants and grocery stores are geared to the expats and Mexican tourists. This means, too, there are many places to eat delicious meals.


Vegan burgers in Ajijic


We flew into Guadalajara, and the hosts picked us up and drove us an hour south to their home, a lovely place with a pool and a view. We didn't make much use of the pool, however, because it never got hot enough to be appealing--and eventually because of all of the rain, the gardener was having a hard time keeping it clean. 


The lake is picturesque but unfortunately too polluted to swim in.

We were there during rainy season, a time of year many said is their favorite because there are fewer people around and less dust. Several times storms woke us in the middle of the night. Once, for at least an hour, the rain dumped like someone had overturned the lake in the sky, during which time there was no space between thunder and lightning. The booming exploded and flashes lit up the bedroom in a continuous, epic melee.


Happily there was a green space where we could walk
Chloe off-leash not far from the house 

All this rain meant we got to see waterfalls in action when we went hiking in the mountains. Nice trails are easily accessible from Ajijic. We also walked with Chloe, the sweet dog in our care, every day. The walks weren't easy, though, since we had to get acclimated to the 5,000-foot elevation and also because the streets out the door were sharply hilly and unevenly cobbled. Those charming but challenging cobbles are a feature everywhere in the area. 


our digs

back yard


Before they left, the homeowners introduced us to their neighbors who were heading out in a few weeks and who, in turn, introduced us to their housesitters, Cathie and Brian, a couple from the U.S. who were traveling throughout Mexico with their dog.


Sunset from Cathie & Brian's pad


I received a message from a friend in Baja who told me that her housesitters scheduled to arrive in a couple of months, Dodo and Sven from Germany, were currently in Ajijic. So we six housesitters met up a couple of times and shared stories about our wanderlust. 


roaming housesitters unite!


We'd heard that about an hour away furniture is manufactured in the town of Ocotlon. The beachy budget furniture in our casita, which we bought more than eight years ago and has endured dozens of renters, was in sad shape. Baja, being nearly an island, can be a hard place to find such things at decent prices. So one day we headed out to do something we rarely do: shop for non-edible things. 


We stumbled across a Pride celebration in Chapala!


Octotlon was a dreary, gray grid of dilapidated buildings. We spent hours walking through furniture stores that varied from warehouses to elaborate displays. Fortunately we didn't want traditional "rustico"-style Mexican furniture, because we didn't see a single piece. Everything was modern, and a lot of it looked alike. Dizzy, hot and hungry, we straggled into the tenth store and struck gold. In one fell swoop we bought a couch, love seat, coffee table and dining room set. We think it's going to be delivered in November when we get back to Baja, but I'm hoping something wasn't lost in translation...


Cathedral de Guadalajara in Centro


Chicos playing in the fountain in Guadalajara

Another day we took the bus to Guadalajara to meet up with our friend Leah, who now lives there. There was no bus schedule (get used to it, it's Mexico) so we stood in the drizzle at the place we thought it was supposed to arrive, and eventually it did. It was great to see Leah, and in our short time together she toured us around the city she loves. We started in Centro, gaping at the grand colonial buildings and murals. And then we took the bus to the outskirts, through neighborhoods lined with towering trees. We had lunch on the sidewalk of a seafood place that looked unremarkable but the food was incredible.


Back at Chapala, we geared up to leave, doing a big house cleaning and getting our last massage. Did I mention the masseuse came every week at about $20 USD per person? She was a true healer and also a single mom who told me she used to work for a company who took half her earnings. She took a risk and went out on her own--and is now doing very well. I share this because I love hearing people's stories and, better yet, we spoke mostly in Spanish.


I'd gotten pretty attached to Chloe, so it wasn't easy to leave her. I was also verklempt when we said goodbye to Cathie and Brian, but with nomads you never know when you'll collide again in another place. With Dodo and Sven it was "hasta luego" because we will see them when we get to Baja!

But first, we were headed to Panama. Next up: Adventures in Panama City, Bocas del Toro, and Playa Morrillo!

*****************************

PS: Want to stockpile some good fall reads? All my books are price reduced right now...and they are also available as audiobooks:

Call it Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit & Travel (award-winning memoir)

For the May Queen (coming of age in the dorms in 1980, with lots of sex, drugs & rock n roll)

Complementary Colors (what happens when a straight woman falls in love with a lesbian)

Revolutionary Kiss, co-authored with Mary Janelle Melvin under the name Mary Kate Summers (love story set during the French Revolution)



Wednesday, September 21, 2022

Return to Baja

It was 2014 the first time we drove from San Diego all the way down Baja to our casita at Cerritos Beach. We've done it many times since, and I've written about it here, here, here, and here.



Santa Rosalia


You'd think with our experience we'd have it down. But this time we couldn't figure out where to get our visas-upon-entry at the Mexicali border. Everything looked different, and indeed it was. We'd zipped by the new building where we were supposed to stop and had to turn around, cross back over the border, and re-enter the country--a painfully slow trek because we couldn't figure out how to get in the fast last using our new SENTRI pass. [Insert tongue-out, googly-eyed emoji here.]


Tacos with Susan and Gilly, whom last saw here.

Fortunately the rest of the trip down was beautiful and seamless. Usually we pass right through the small town of Santa Rosalia, but at the last minute we discovered our friends Susan and Gilly were there! For years we'd talked about meeting up in Santa Rosalia, since they own property there, but the stars didn't align until now. 

Until they toured us around, I hadn't realized what a charming town it is. The architecture is French style because the French operated copper mines here until the 1950s.


Gilly & Susan on their property.

We also saw their seaside property next to the small college where Gilly is involved in building a marine biology research center. He's a squid researcher and she's a John Steinbeck scholar, the perfect Cannery Row match.

A few days later, pulling into our neighborhood near Cerritos Beach after nearly two years away gave me the tingles. Ahhh...that desert air mingling with the sea. But we were only spending three nights there--and not even in our casita so as to not disturb the longterm renter. Instead, we stayed in a palapa (thatched roof) studio with outdoor kitchen, organized our stuff in our bodega (big garge) and headed out to find food.


With Art at Good Vibes

Lucky us, our friend Art had recently opened a Caribbean-food restaurant called Good Vibes within walking distance, where we feasted on super delish dishes. They have jerk chicken but also offer jerk cauliflower, which was divine.


Squeezed in a beach walk

We had time to meet up with friends and family in Todos Santos and got over to my sister Ann's property, where she and Gary are building a new house. It will be magically completed by the time we return.

With nephews Beau & Brock, Ann & Gary, and Paul

It was strange after only three days to board a plane. Part of me yearned to stay, to burrow into our house and community, while the other part was excited about what was up next: housesitting in the area of Lake Chapala. Stay tuned for that!

PS: Want to stockpile some good fall reads? All my books are price reduced right now...and they are also available as audiobooks:

Call it Wonder: An Odyssey of Love, Sex, Spirit & Travel (award-winning memoir)

For the May Queen (coming of age in the dorms in 1980, with lots of sex, drugs & rock n roll)

Complementary Colors (what happens when a straight woman falls in love with a lesbian)

Revolutionary Kiss, co-authored with Mary Janelle Melvin under the name Mary Kate Summers (love story set during the French Revolution)

Wednesday, August 31, 2022

From Trauma Came Giving

Beau (photo by Dave Rhine)


My 30-year-old nephew had a surfing accident in Mexico, breaking his back.* He is a phenomenal surfer, and I'd watching him on the waves since he was a little kid. An electrician by trade, his dream of going to Indonesia to work as a surfing guide was dashed by the pandemic. He then spent time budget traveling and surfing in Central America and refurbishing a surf shack in Baja Sur, about an hour north of Cabo San Lucas. As a fellow wanderer who lives part of the year in Mexico and spends the rest traveling, I feel a special affinity to him beyond the familial.

Even though I knew that an infusion of cash could help him out, I was hesitant to start a GoFundMe because of the snide things I’ve heard people say about “grifters” and the stridency of online comment feeds. Who knew what people might say about my nephew’s life? Would they blame him for engaging in a dangerous sport? Would they deride his need for cash given that he lived an alternative, modest lifestyle? But I’d seen GoFundMe’s work well for others, and I’d contributed in the past. Besides, this would be for a young man I loved who was in need, so I posted the request, steeling myself to delete comments that might not be supportive or might offer unwanted advice. Within 24 hours, a number of donations rolled in, as did only heartfelt comments of love and support.

But most striking was this: I realized that many of those who contributed had suffered their own traumas. One of the first donations came from a woman I’d never met. When I asked my husband if he knew her he said, “Yes, from high school. Her own son died by suicide.” My heart thumped in my throat.


nephew and auntie, 30 years ago

And then I realized another donor had also lost a son. I scoured the list: a friend whose parents had died tragically, another who was mourning her husband’s death, a cousin whose young husband suffered for years with kidney disease and finally received a transplant (and was boosted with online contributions), another cousin who was treated for breast cancer—and a woman I’d never met in person but who had reached out to me online years ago after reading my memoir that treats my experience with a brain tumor. She’d shared with me, a stranger, her own youthful medical challenges, and ever since I’d felt a kinship with her.

There were others whose backgrounds I did not know, either because I’d never met them or they’d never shared intimate details about their lives. I thought of the Zen parable of the woman who begged Buddha to bring back to life her dead child. He said he could do so if she brought him a mustard seed from a person who had never had never had a death in the family. Filled with hope, she went house to house…only to discover no one had been untouched by tragedy. She made peace with her pain, knowing that suffering wasn’t personal but was the human condition.

My nephew told me he was surprised by and grateful for all the online kindness directed his way. When I shared with him my thought—that giving and compassion often come from one’s own struggles—he was deeply moved. Since then, we’ve been more in contact than ever, this experience bringing us even closer together. I hope all the love and support is helping him to remain in good spirits as he waits in a back brace for professional advice about the next medical steps he needs to take. And I’m glad to have been reminded of the Internet’s power for good, especially in such divisive times. The next time I see a trainwreck of nasty comments online, I’ll try to remember that not one of those people could hand me a mustard seed.


*UPDATE: I wrote this a few months ago. Fortunately, Beau didn't need surgery and is out of his brace and back on the waves!


Friday, June 10, 2022

Housesitting in California: Saving a Zillion Bucks

San Diego is good for kissing


It's been eight years since we discovered housesitting--and by the end of this year we will have done a total of 42, if my numbers are right. 

I'm no accountant, and sometimes I feel like an amateur compared to the travelers I follow online who keep spreadsheets detailing every sit, every pet they care for, every cent they saved or spent each month. It's fun to watch them in action, but I'm a different breed, one who had to get a tutor to pass statistics.

If I were to say how much we've saved housesitting while we travel, I'd say a zillion dollars. You know, a lot. It has made budget travel possible.


Abbey & Spark in Carmel Valley

I'm writing a book about our traveling, housesitting life--one filled with stories, not numerical data. I apologize in advance to those who crave pie charts. You're more likely to read in my book about our experiences eating pie. Peach is my favorite.


Wine tasting with Laurie in Ashland, Oregon


Because of housesitting, we were able to spend nearly three months in California, enjoying all this beautiful state has to offer along with cherished time with family and friends. We were grateful for the sun, as our time in Washington had turned us into ghosts.


With Anne & Ben in Portland


After driving from Seattle through Portland (to visit Anne and Ben) and Ashland, Oregon (to see Laurie), we arrived at our sit in Carmel Valley. We spent a few hours with the homeowners for orientation before they took off for the airport. 


Asilomar State Beach 

Our charges were two labradoodles, an adorable and spirited mother and daughter. We had fun walking them to the nearby open space where they could romp off leash. We also indulged in all the wonderful beach hiking at Asilomar, Carmel Meadows and Garrapata State Park.

It so happened that our friend Cathy, who now lives in England, was visiting California and was able to spend a few days with us. On perhaps half our housesits, we've had friends come stay; we always ask the homeowners in advance, urging them to feel free to say no if they're uncomfortable. But they've always said yes, often enthusiastically so.


Zoom with a View

When Covid hit, to allay the isolation, Cathy and I, along with Sally and Kelly, starting Zooming twice a month. When we met for lunch in Carmel, it was the first time we'd been together in more than two years. It was wonderful, and I must say, I prefer Zooming in person.

Our next sit was a darling Santa Cruz vintage home, built over 100 years ago by a doctor who used to see patients in what is now the bedroom. Upon arrival, we went out to dinner the hosts, and spent the night in their backyard cottage. We cared for their sweet, older dog named Mazy who was happy with one stroll around the block a day. (Bizarrely, when I lived in Santa Cruz years ago, I had a dog named Mazie.) 


Reading with Mazy


Being there afforded us all the wonderful Santa Cruz things: beaches, redwoods, friends, and on April 20 a 420 party with our friend Stacey, a totally Santa Cruz experience. Even though I don't like weed, I had a great time meeting new people and learning a card came called Kabul.


Piper and Pepper

From Santa Cruz, we drove to San Diego, for the first of three housesits in So Cal. The house had a killer kitchen and two hilarious French bulldogs who snored like truckers. After a sleepless night, I had to move their beds to another room and texted the hosts to let them know; they were cool with it. 

Before we take a sit, I always ask where the animals sleep (because "on the bed" isn't an option for me). When I learned they were small dogs who had crates in the bedroom, I mistakenly thought that would be fine. Lesson learned.


We love Shannon & Tony

Soon, though, we heard from the hosts, who'd gone to Europe for a cruise, that they tested positive for Covid and were booted from the boat. After a five-day quarantine, they wanted to come home a week early, and we said not to worry, that we could go stay with our friends in nearby Solana Beach.

(We had this happen once before, where homeowners needed to return a week early. They kindly paid for an Airbnb for us. We could have stayed in their guest room, but that was a much better solution all around.)

We'd already planned on going to the home of our Solana Beach friends, Tony and Shannon, to care for their sweet doggie Auggie while they traveled to Guatemala--so we got bonus time with them before they left.


Mark at Cabrillo National Monument State Park

This housesit turned into an event. Our friend Mark came for a few days, and we were so happy to host him because we've stayed at his house in San Jose five billion times (I counted). Dave picked him up from the airport and they went immediately to hike at the stunning Cabrillo National Monument.


Frankie, Trey & Johnnie know how to chill.

The next day, more guests descended: Paul and Christi, their three teen boys, and their dog, Luna. On our drive down, we'd spent a few days with them north of L.A. so now we were getting bonus time together. We hiked, jammed (Paul on mandolin, me on uke), and had a sweet day at Del Mar beach. 

(Side note: We would never ask homeowners on a regular sit to let us invite this many guests, but in this group was also close friends with Tony and Shannon.)

Luna and Christi at Del Mar Beach

Our final sit in the area took us inland to Escondido, to a comfortable home with a view of the hills. There are lots of trails through green space right out the door, great for walking the two dogs.


Fiesta del Sol

Being in this area also meant we were finally able to see my sister Crystal and her guy Kristian in their beautiful downtown penthouse, along with our niece Jenna, who was home for the summer after her frosh year at Indiana University. I was in the delivery room when she was born, so there's nothing like seeing her so grown up to remind me of time's winged chariot

We walked along the downtown waterfront, danced our patooties off at a music and food festival called Fiesta del Sol, and spent a day in Coronado--a beachside resort town that I'd always wanted to visit. As a native Californian, it took me only 59 years to finally get there, and it's gorgeous. We ate lunch at the Hotel Del, overlooking the water.


The Hotel del Coronado

Once we've established ourselves in a home, the unfamiliar quickly morphs into a sense of ease. However, it's not all fun and games. There's cleaning, shopping, taking out the trash, scooping the dog poop--and since we've been here we've had medical appointments and work done on our car. I've edited a client's manuscript and worked most days on my book. In the evenings, we cook and watch Jeopardy.

All of these things contribute to the feeling of a stranger's house becoming ours--and then before we know it, it's time to pack up and leave. The bed, the writing table, the neighborhood, the pets--everything that was "ours" is about to exit our lives. Right now we are three days away from leaving, residing in that in-between space between home-dweller and nomad. And where are we heading? To do three more housesits in two different countries--pictures and stories to come.

PS: For more about our housesitting lives, check out this piece on The Traveling House Sitters.