When Ron Eisenberg’s Great News kitchenware store and cooking school closed in 2015 after 38 years, the 75-year-old pharmacist-turned-retailer went through what he calls “a grieving process.” Amazon and online competition forced him to shut down the Pacific Beach institution where customers became friends and cooking became community.
“I was bored,” says Eisenberg, now 85, with his characteristic candor as I speak with him and his wife, Devora Safran, over Zoom. “I talked all this through with Devora, who pointed out that I was a social person and that I liked to drive. It was a no-brainer. I became an Uber driver.”
For the next few years, he drove a “well-maintained” Prius. He kept water, mints, and wipes for customers—the same customer-centric, service-oriented approach he had successfully implemented at Great News.
Finally, during the COVID-19 pandemic, and now at 79, she parked her car for good. Now it was time for Safran to pitch her retirement ideas. For six or seven years, she had been researching international living, forwarding Eisenberg articles about healthcare in Panama and the cost of living in Mexico. “He evaded me,” Safran says, laughing. “He didn’t even read them.”
Then, the couple attended an International Living conference in Las Vegas. After filling a spiral notebook from cover to cover with information on various countries, they narrowed their focus. “In the end,” Eisenberg said, “the only place I would really consider is Mexico, to be close to the United States and be able to go back for healthcare.”
In early 2024, Safran, who had worked for 25 years as an interior designer and cabinetmaker, was laid off due to the business downturn following the COVID-19 pandemic. She was 65. Eisenberg, 84. They looked at each other and thought: If not now, when?
In 60 days, they packed up their home in Point Loma, rented it out, and moved to Ajijic (pronounced aji-ji-ji), a town of about 11,400 people on the shores of Lake Chapala, Mexico’s largest lake. The town sits at an altitude of 5,524 meters, less than an hour from the Guadalajara airport, with what they describe as “year-round spring-like weather.”
Their research process was like a masterclass in retirement planning. They attended numerous conferences, visited San Miguel de Allende and Puerto Vallarta, and visited Ajijic twice (once in winter and once during the summer rainy season) before making their decision. When they finally settled, they spent 10 days viewing 35 properties before signing the lease.
What they found was a century-old mini-hacienda, fully furnished in the center of town, with two spacious bedrooms, two bathrooms, two kitchens (one with a built-in barbecue), a pool, and a bathtub—both hard to find in Ajijic. The rent? About $1,800 a month. Yes, you read that right. In San Diego dollars, that’s roughly what they’d pay for a one-bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood.
The healthcare turned out to be 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 consultation. Safran, a breast cancer survivor who couldn’t get a mammogram appointment in San Diego for nine months, went to a clinic in Ajijic, self-referred, and got a 360-degree mammogram for under $100. The results came back in 24 hours.
Perhaps the most striking thing is how Mexicans approach the final chapter of life. In the expat community of Ajijic, death is openly discussed. 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 doulas assist with end-of-life rituals, and the state permits physician-assisted dying.
“There’s no hospice care here because families take care of their elders,” Safran explains. “For us, it feels gentler, more tender, and perhaps a more natural life cycle.”
Their daily routine now resembles “summer camp every day.” Safran takes pottery and oil painting classes, attends water aerobics, plays bridge, and participates in art workshops. Eisenberg has joined a men’s breakfast group. They entertain friends, attend concerts, and see plays.
The challenges? Limited Spanish (though Safran manages with what he remembers from a college summer in Mexico) and 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 because of a metal plate in his foot.
Now, when Eisenberg visits San Diego, he feels increasingly stressed. They’ve extended his original gap year experiment for another 18 months. His house in Point Loma is still rented. The storage room holds mementos of his former life.
“Living the dream,” Safran said. For $1,800 a month in paradise, with caring doctors and smiling neighbors, who could argue?
Source: sandiegouniontribune
