¡La Paz, México!

After three weeks in La Paz, I feel relieved to say we chose the right place to spend our summer. There is only so much you can do to prepare for two months with a toddler in a foreign city you’ve never visited before; the rest hopefully falls in to place. Fortunately for us, it has. The long travel day from Denver went smoothly. Cora slept nearly the entire bus ride from the Cabo San Lucas airport as we drove up Baja California Sur’s winding coastline toward La Paz. Thanks to a nearby storm, we arrived to a weekend of overcast skies that suppressed the desert heat just enough to smooth our transition from Colorado’s crisp temps. We spent well under 20 dollars on our first meal of fish ceviche and cold cerveza, a welcome surprise in any beach town. And, our top floor Airbnb apartment was immaculately clean with the kind of pumping cold A/C that puts my southern-girl heart at ease. We have since settled in to our second location, a little two-story casita close to cute cafes and shops, where we will spend the next six weeks.

It’s been over two years since Charlie and I really stretched our travel legs. Our three-month exploration of the Dominican Republic when Cora was barely a year old feels like such a long time ago. So much life has happened. After a six month hiatus from the working world, I started an intense, work from home job I enjoy but demands focus. Adapting to a fast-paced role after spending 17 years in a career I could do in my sleep has required new and painful brain cell growth, but it’s been worth it to feel engaged again. Working online allowed us to finally move to our favorite rocky mountain town, Salida, where I serendipitously ended up on the board of the most adorable, little non-profit preschool which Cora now attends. I also pursued some long-held interests and started weekly piano lessons and formal training in intuitive eating. Adjusting to a new job, new town, making new friends in my 40s and feeling all of the vulnerability that comes with it, on top of facing the demands of a rapidly developing toddler while striving to maintain a healthy relationship, some level of physical fitness and acceptable mental health has really been all-consuming. My mind has not been on travel, nor the Spanish classes scheduled by my disciplined partner, twice a week, without fail. While I’ve been finding my footing, he’s been patiently waiting and preparing as much as possible for this adventure. Planning is Charlie’s speciality, and I give him all the credit for the near seamless transition of our international move.

Our biggest feat by far has been enrolling Cora in a preschool so we can continue working. Months ago, Charlie started sending emails to various places to see if one would respond. Jardin de Niños, the pre-k of a Catholic private school founded in 1943 at its current location, not only wrote back but had availability and scheduled our interview (including a low-key psych assessment) on the Monday after we arrived at 8am sharp. I had all kinds of nerves. Not only was my stomach in knots about leaving our only child in a brand new, completely Spanish-speaking school 1700 miles from home, we’re not even Catholic. We’re also not married, and I was worried that a tradition-based, religious institution would have opinions about that. I joked to Charlie that we might have to run to the court house. And while I knew we should also be measuring their fitness for Cora and our family, the truth was we had no other option, and it met two of my top criteria: maximum security and close to our Airbnb. It’s actually across the street, not something we had planned and her teachers might think we’re creepers, but I do not mind this at all.

To my relief, there were no religious or marital status questions, though we had rehearsed our answers. The director was kind but no-nonsense. The school psychologist was also serious and gave Cora subtle orders to stand still while the grown-ups talked. Cora obliged but the flash of indignation in her eyes made me feel proud. Cora played on the clean, well-kept playground. We visited her classroom, met her friendly teacher and classmates; five well-groomed boys who politely told us their names as they sat neatly at their desks. There was one other girl in the class not in attendance that day. By the end of our tour, the vibe had relaxed and I could see that Cora would be fine, though she would have to wear a uniform and pin her hair back. I felt myself bristle at the hair requirement. I indicated I would try but gave no promises, knowing full well that my headstrong, hair clip hating three year old barely let me brush her hair on good days, much less pull it back. That’s why we had chopped it off before the trip, and I adore her messy short curls. I took a deep breath and told myself it would only be six weeks; the school closes in mid-July. Perhaps a more disciplined approach wasn’t all bad. It would be a new experience for all of us, which I suppose is why we’re here.

The next day when we picked her up, she was sitting in the teacher’s lap on the playground, hair combed and pinned tightly against her sweaty head, looking docile and exhausted. Being the only little blonde-haired, rosy-cheeked girl made her somewhat popular it seemed. I watched her from the locked gate as older girls took turns gently touching her face and hands like a little doll. Cora’s glazed eyes wandered over to me but didn’t seem to recognize me at first, and I had a moment of panic that this was all too much. Once she realized we were there to get her, her expression shifted to urgency, but she calmly took her teacher’s hand and slowly walked toward us, surrounded by her escorts.

All in all it’s been a success and she has gone to school and returned happily each day since, which is the most important indicator to me. I can tell the rigidity is making her act out more at home which I don’t love but try to understand. When it’s time for pick-up, the preschoolers have to walk in single file to the entrance where the parents wait outside. The first few times Cora saw me, she tried to run to me and was gently ushered back in line. Now when she sees me, she stays in line with a somber expression until she’s almost to the gate. Then she cracks a mischievous smile at me as if to say, I’ll play along. It’s our little secret. Her teacher does her hair every single day and I marvel at her craftsmanship with big white bows and numerous brightly colored rubber bands that require painstaking removal. I have a feeling her teacher enjoys dolling her up, and I must admit I’m jealous that Cora lets her. I do wonder what the other parents and teachers think but I’m trying not to care. Cora is safe, she’s having fun and we are able to get our work done.

I look forward to evenings most, when we walk the four blocks down to the Malecon, a broad pedestrian board walk lined by palm trees running along the coast. The days are sweltering and only getting hotter, so the entire city lays in wait for sunset. As soon as the sun dips, people fill the sidewalks, restaurants open and the city comes alive. No matter the night of the week, the Malecon is bustling with families eating ice cream, riding bikes and taking photos against the pink sunset backdrop. We usually head to Cora’s favorite playground to get her evening zoomies out before heading home.

On the weekends we have been exploring the nearby beaches. There are several up the coast, the farthest being about a 45 minute bus ride from the town center. On Saturday mornings, we walk down to the bus station and board the Playa Bus for 70 pesos ($3.65). It’s important to go early to snag one of the few thatch roof umbrellas. We’ve been to three different beaches so far and all have been beautiful. La Paz sits in the Gulf of California where the shallow water is completely calm with soft ripples and not a wave in sight. It is perfect for kids with tons of seashells, schools of fish and pelicans flying overhead. Our favorite so far has been Playa Balandra, a white-sand paradise with rocky cliffs and crystal clear water you can wade out into, seemingly forever. It’s heavily protected by environmental groups and people are only allowed to visit in shifts; ours ended at noon. I have a feeling we’ll be going back.

In summary, Baja life is treating us well. I am beyond proud of my little girl who is making this huge change look easy, and I’m excited to keep exploring this charming place. Stay tuned for more on the Baja food scene and our upcoming road trip!