When Ron Eisenberg\u2019s Great News Cookware Store and Cooking School closed in 2015 after 38 years, the then-75-year-old pharmacist-turned-retailer went through what he calls \u201ca grieving process.\u201d Amazon and online competition had forced him to close the Pacific Beach institution where customers became friends, and cooking became community.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cI was bored,\u201d says Eisenberg, now 85, with characteristic directness as I talk on Zoom with him and his wife, Devora Safran. \u201cI discussed all this with Devora, who pointed out to me that I was a social fellow and liked to drive. It was obvious. I became an Uber driver.\u201d<\/p>\n
For the next few years, he drove a \u201cgently used\u201d Prius. He kept water, mints, towelettes for customers \u2014 the same customer-centric, service-oriented approach that he had used successfully at Great News.<\/p>\n
Finally, during COVID, and now 79, he parked the car for good. Now it was time for Safran to suggest her retirement ideas. For six or seven years, she\u2019d been researching international living, forwarding Eisenberg articles about health care in Panama and the cost of living in Mexico. \u201cHe stonewalled me,\u201d Safran laughs. \u201cHe wouldn\u2019t even read them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then the couple attended an International Living conference in Las Vegas. After filling a spiral notebook front to back with information about various countries, they narrowed their focus. \u201cAt the end,\u201d Eisenberg said, \u201cThe only place I would really consider is Mexico, so we\u2019re close to the U.S. and can come back for health care.\u201d<\/p>\n
Fast forward to early 2024. Safran, who had spent 25 years as a cabinetry and interior designer, was laid off as post-COVID business slowed. She was 65. Eisenberg was 84.\u00a0 They looked at each other and thought: If not now, when?<\/p>\n
In 60 days, they packed up their Point Loma house and rented it out, and moved to Ajijic (pronounced ah-hee-HEEK), a village of about 11,400 on the shores of Lake Chapala, Mexico\u2019s largest lake. The town sits at 5,000 feet, less than an hour from Guadalajara\u2019s airport, with what they describe as \u201cspring-like weather year-round.\u201d<\/p>\n
Their research process reads like a master class in retirement planning. They attended multiple conferences, visited San Miguel de Allende and Puerto Vallarta, and visited Ajijic twice \u2014 once in winter, once during the rainy summer season \u2014 before committing. When they finally decided, they spent 10 days looking at 35 properties before signing a lease.<\/p>\n
What they found was a 100-year-old mini-hacienda fully furnished in the center of town with two large bedrooms, two bathrooms, two kitchens (one with a built-in barbecue), a swimming pool, and a bathtub \u2014 both hard to find in Ajijic. The rent? About $1,800 a month. Yes, you read that correctly. In San Diego dollars, that\u2019s about what you\u2019d pay for a one-bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood.<\/p>\n
The medical care proved equally astonishing. Eisenberg, who has had some health issues since moving, discovered doctors who make house calls, spend an hour with patients, and charge about $35 per visit. Safran, a breast cancer survivor who couldn\u2019t get a mammogram appointment in San Diego for nine months, walked into a clinic in Ajijic, self-referred, and got a 360-degree mammogram for under $100. Results came back in 24 hours.<\/p>\n
Perhaps most surprising is how Mexicans approach the final chapter of life. In Ajijic\u2019s expat community, death is discussed openly. Day of the Dead celebrations honor loved ones with personal altars and community gatherings. Classes and workshops teach people how to prepare physically, emotionally, financially and spiritually for death. Trained \u201cdoulas\u201d help with end-of-life rituals, and the state allows physician-aided death.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s no hospice here because families take care of their elders,\u201d Safran explains. \u201cFor us, it seems kinder, gentler, and perhaps a more natural circle of life.\u201d<\/p>\n
Their daily routine now resembles \u201csummer camp every day.\u201d Safran takes ceramics and oil painting classes, attends water aerobics, plays bridge, and goes to art workshops.\u00a0 Eisenberg joined a men\u2019s breakfast group. They entertain friends, attend concerts and plays.<\/p>\n
The challenges? Limited Spanish (though Safran gets by on what she remembers from a college summer in Mexico), and the political uncertainty about how U.S. policy might affect expats abroad. The cobblestone streets require careful navigation, especially for Eisenberg, who walks with a cane due to a metal plate in his foot.<\/p>\n
Now when Eisenberg visits San Diego, he finds himself more stressed each time. They\u2019ve extended their original one-year \u201cgap year\u201d experiment by another 18 months. Their Point Loma house remains rented. The storage unit holds memories of their former life.<\/p>\n
\u201cLiving the dream,\u201d Safran said. At $1,800 a month in paradise, with doctors who care and neighbors who smile, who could argue?<\/p>\n