August 26, 2024, Mexico. I’d heard talk of how beautiful Lake Chapala is. This was my first visit, and I marveled as I drove from Mascota, watching the changing landscape. I had planned to stay with an American friend who’d moved over ten years ago. The town of Ajijic had been overrun by American retirees, though there were also a fair number of Mexican artists. I had hoped to stay for a week, and did my best to stay out of her hair. She was very stressed, in part due to an imminent move and new home purchase. Her desire to move was precipitated by a feeling of alienation from her neighbors. It had started when her neighbor heavily trimmed a flowering bush that grew along a shared fence. Angry at the loss of privacy, my friend had erected some sort of netting to compensate for the lost plant. The whole thing seemed to evolve into a kind of Cold War.

I was awaiting a new debit card and had provided her address for the new card. My cousin had recommended destroying my original debit card so no one could rob me. I’d retained the one without the chip. Unfortunately, for the past few days I couldn’t get money from ATM machines with the chipless card. I’d been desperate as a result, and had to ask a supermarket to give me a cash advance using my credit card.

Over the course of the week, I explored the town, walking everywhere and loving the artistry of the place. It reminded me a bit of Carmel. I checked out the gringo market, a weekly event featuring a narrow street jam packed with booths. There I met a fascinating healer sitting to the side. I asked him what he did, and he proceeded to give me a bag of special stones to address the health issues he identified me having. He would not accept money. I was moved by the encounter, which seemed out of place among the expat Americans selling protein powder and other health food favorites. He was quiet and easily overlooked. Those are the people I am most drawn to.

I did a lot of walking along the waterfront, as well as up to waterfalls on the trail to El Tepalo, the steep mountains behind the town. One day I walked 4 miles along the lakeside road on an exploratory trek. On one of my walks in town, I discovered Efren Gallery, which housed Muestra de Arte Popular en Ajijic, a permanent exhibition of Mexican folk art from all over Mexico collected by a local couple over the last 25 years. Spread out over 8 rooms, the collection included everything from paper mache figurines to complex dioramas made of a myriad of materials. The exhibit of folk art was the most impressive I’ve seen anywhere in Mexico.

Ajijic is full of cafes serving delicious espresso drinks and baked goods. Seems to be true of most towns that attract expats. Every morning I would sample a delicacy from a different place. There was a lovely bakery on the main road out of town that made cheesecake. It was delectable.

My friend and I also did a few things together. She showed me a lunch place she liked up on the hill near the house she was planning to buy, and we went to an expat book group that met at a lovely restaurant on the main drag. I felt like an imposition, and hoped the card would come early so I could leave my friend alone. As much as I enjoyed staying in such beautiful surroundings, I could tell that she wasn’t happy with my presence. No matter what I did, it seemed a problem. At one point she told me that she had hoped we’d have more time together. I interpreted her tension as a message to disappear. The joys of miscommunication.

It didn’t help that I inadvertently left my bedroom window open one afternoon. As Murphy’s law would have it, shortly after I left for a walk, there was a fierce storm. When I got back, my friend was quite upset, and I felt terrible. I mopped the water off her Mexican tiled floor, grateful that the bed was far enough from the window so as not to get soaked.

On the sixth day, my card arrived. I’d hoped to stay one more day, but my friend said no. I thanked her for her kindness in letting me stay and wished her well with her move. As I headed out of town, I spied a bakery and decided to pick something up. On my way to the entrance, a man sitting outside began conversing in a very friendly manner, as if he knew me. It turns out he thought I was someone else. I mentioned that I’d been visiting a friend had had hoped to stay one more evening. He said he and his friend were housesitting at a place up the hill and just like that, invited me to stay. I was moved by his kindness, and gratefully accepted. I followed them to the house, which had an amazing view overlooking the lake, and his friend showed me his piano and the terrace where he liked to compose music. I felt so taken care of. My new friends even prepared dinner for us all. I got to stay in a beautiful suite, and had the sleep of a lifetime. I’d been walking on eggshells with my friend, and felt relieved to be able to relax knowing that I wasn’t an imposition. At least not with my new acquaintances.