There never was a plan B
July 16, 2009
It has been quite some time since I took pen in hand, dear reader…but I promise to be more faithful henceforward.
One would think that after opening three businesses, I would have learned a thing or two, but inevitably, one would be wrong.
Once again, I have overspent, thrown all my energy and money into building the kind of place that I would like to go to…and as usual, failed to realize that the rest of the world is not on the same page as I am.
My original thought was to build a small hotel out here in the countryside…but I left my life in Chicago to have a better life–I mean, to have a life outside of work…and a hotel requires attention 24/7.
So then I thought, why not an oasis–a place where one could come for the day, relax on a chaise lounge by a turquoise pool, watch the clouds drift by overhead, eat fabulous Indian food, perhaps take a yoga class or a massage…and then, refreshed and invigorated, head into San Miguel and party or whatever the night away (while somebody else–not me–waits for you to come back at 3 a.m.)
Great concept, right? Easy to comprehend, yes? Appealing, yes?
Suggestions that have been made to me:
!. Open at 7 a.m. so that I can come out and get my exercise by swimming laps–and give me a reduced rate, because I have no intention of using any of your other amenities. (I would like to introduce this woman to the woman who approached me for a reduced rate on her coffee at my old restaurant in Chicago because she brought her own mug. I think they would have much in common.)
2. Hire a d.j. and allow smoking and serve real food like burgers so that people can really enjoy themselves.
Hindsight is always 20/20….I also would never have tried to import anything at all into Mexico…I would have done what other people do…smuggle it in! I have two shipments of fabulous things that I bought in India–one shipment sitting in Veracruz, one in Manzanillo, accruing fees and whether I will ever see either of them is a mystery unbeknownst to me, a mere mortal.
I think I can safely say that I have recovered from my initial “nostalgie de la boue” about Mexico (I’ve always wanted to use that phrase!)–I think I should write a short Kubler-Rossish piece on the five stages of infatuation with moving to a new country.
But as I told my beloved brother, people pay millions (unfortunately not to me) to live this kind of life–surrounded by open country, hummingbirds sipping nectar from the flowers, sheep and goats crossing the road in front of my car…and really, what would I be doing in Chicago now?
My moods swing between plans to raise chickens, and plans to drown myself in the fabulous (heated at great cost) pool.