Nuestra Señora del Viaje Inverso
Years ago I would wander around this particular neighborhood in Mexico City with friends and marvel at how magnificent the architecture was. Equally impressive was how many of these structures were left to decline for decades to the point that they were no longer functional. Some were occupied by the elderly who had aged along with their accommodations. Others were used as low value storage facilities, vehicle parking, or budget workshops. Locals would explain that the city simply stopped maintaining the sewers in spots so the neighborhood would sometimes smell bad. It was one of those chicken-and-egg situations. Low property values induced less attention from the government. Less government attention induced lower property values. But clearly poor people didn’t build such gorgeous places. At one time these were premium addresses.
But this decline was also an opportunity. Spectacular properties (give or take decades of wear and tear) were readily available at deep discounts for the risk oblivious. That often includes me and my demographic cohort. We all have our tribe. Some cluster within the surveilled walls of the beige suburban gated community - huddled around the covenants, codes, and restrictions for warmth. “The Villas™ at Retention Pond© Phase VI.” In sharp contrast, this semi abandoned urban landscape is the natural habitat of my people.
We stopped by to visit a friend and were greeted from above as our host lowered a key down on a string. I love a low tech workaround. That was the perfect entré to a charming home and art studio that sprawled across two floors. One could - and my friend often does - have dozens of guests over without filling the space.
The high ceilings, French doors, and architectural flourishes date back a couple of centuries. The faded glory was counterbalanced by makeshift plumbing arrangements. I got flashbacks to my youth in Los Angeles, New York, and London. My friends and I lived in low rent formerly grand old buildings, the husks of industrial warehouses, and defunct dental clinics for pennies on the dollar. That world is long gone, but a version of it is alive and well in Mexico City - with much better weather and a favorable currency exchange rate.
The risk for my friend now is that this neighborhood is working its way back up the value chain towards revitalized luxury properties with rising rents. Everything has a beginning, a middle, and an end. You can pivot and benefit from the change, or you can get squeezed. Personally, I’d rather be a hammer than a nail. I’ve advised my friend to get with the program and take action to secure his future. It’s a tricky business for someone who has spent years leveraging a modest income in a benign landscape. But it won’t last forever - and we aren’t young anymore.
Across town in a completely different neighborhood we arrived at the home of other expat friends. They had just moved in to a new flat two days earlier and were still organizing the furniture and hanging pictures. There was frustration over the WiFi installation process which vexed all concerned. My better half lent a hand and it was eventually sorted.
This was a comfortable well laid out space with gentle cross breezes and pleasant views. There were two big bedrooms, two full baths, a third room for guests or lounging, a terrace, and so on. Right outside were all the restaurants, cafes, shops, and parks within a two minute walk. This, of course, came at a somewhat higher price point than the artist’s studio, but still not at all bad compared to anything equivalent back in The States.
These friends have an enviable economic situation. They’re receiving steady income from rental properties back home. They have savings. They have salaries from ongoing employment in semi-retirement. And they’re of an age that collecting pensions is an option. A lot could go wrong and they could still manage just fine.
I’ve known them since the mid 1990s and followed their trajectory with great interest. They began in San Diego, moved to Los Angeles, then Santa Barbara, San Francisco, Oakland, Portland, Seattle… I joked they were destined to end up in Alaska given their northern march. Each time they moved they would buy an inexpensive property that needed work in a questionable neighborhood. And each time they would improve the place and sell at a profit after a few years. A single family home led to a duplex. A duplex led to a couple of single family homes. Then a triplex and so on. Along the way there were larger national economic booms and busts, but they were both smart and lucky.
They are my patron saints. Not quite the Virgin Mary. More like a cross between Saint Sebastian and the Hindu Lakshmi. Their boomerang south to Mexico City gave me the encouragement to start the immigration process and plan my own possible future with the ultimate reverse commute.
