A lot of people said they’d leave the US if Donald Trump got reelected. I actually did it. And here’s my story — and some advice if you’re actually thinking about it.
First, a little background. I started the process three years ago and finally left our home near Bloomington, Ind., in September. Yes, before Trump defeated Vice President Kamala Harris. But it was a factor in our decision, a Plan B in case he got elected. We were not alone, apparently. The expat facilitation firm Expatsi saw its daily click rate go from its normal 2,000 or so a day to 142,000 on the day after the election.
But the big question for me and my wife, of course, was where to go.
There are lots of options for those who are tired of the US political climate — the Caribbean, Latin America, Europe, Asia, and even New Zealand. Our new home will be in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. We chose Cabo for a few reasons.
For one thing, it is spectacularly beautiful. Miles and miles of empty beaches, breathtaking desertscapes, and Georgia O’Keefe purple mountains. Also, it’s convenient (although not close) to our grandkids on the West Coast. Finally, it’s a place friends and family can and will visit. Having had homes in N.Y., L.A., Sydney, and rural Indiana, we know firsthand that there are some places people want to visit and some that require some selling. An added bonus for Los Cabos is safety: Cabo has about the same crime rate as Dallas.
But Mexico isn’t perfect politically. It too has issues with corruption, cronyism, and populism. In fact, there is no place that checks all the boxes in terms of climate, proximity, cost of living, safety, medical care, and politics. If you’re a conservative, you’re not going to like Mexico’s newly elected President Claudia Sheinbaum, who’s well to the left of AOC. If you’re liberal, you’ll find right-wing populism is a global trend. For example, every European country has its own version of MAGA: Poland, France, Italy, Portugal, and even the Netherlands and Scandinavian countries.
Lots of options? Author Sam Hill in in Cabo San Lucas. (Photo courtesy of Sam Hill)
Moving overseas is not easy. And it’s not cheap: It cost roughly $30,000 for us because we either had to bring furniture and household goods with us or buy new. We’ve tried both options on other moves and found it works out about the same.
For us, it was a two-step process. First, we “redomiciled”: that is, we changed our home base in the US.
A home base can literally be a home or it could be a mailing address at one of the many companies that provide those services for expats and RV-ers. However you do it, it’s necessary to have some sort of footprint. There are still a handful of institutions that insist on using physical mail. We chose Houston because it’s got great healthcare — my wife and I are over 65 — and is an easy flight from Cabo. And Texas has no income tax, while Bloomington, Ind., where we last lived, is over 5%.
The hardest thing is the paperwork.
There’s a ton of it, and it all hits you at once — visas, doctors, licenses, change of address, banks, phone numbers, insurance, utilities, you name it. In our case, it hit twice: Indiana to Texas, and Texas to Mexico. Both were bad.
In online forums, people talk about how quick and easy it is to establish yourself in Texas, but that wasn’t our experience. It took three trips to the DMV because we’d not yet received the title to our new Texas car — and the bill of sale and application for title weren’t enough. Perhaps times have changed. Because of Homeland Security, for one, there are a lot of checks and rechecks in the system these days. Example: it’s no longer simple to get a safety deposit box because banks are concerned about people using them to stash things like illegal drugs. Now it requires several forms of ID and an interview — if you can find a bank that still has them.
And while Mexican bureaucrats are more pleasant than those at the DMV, they’re still bureaucrats. Getting our residency cards, sort of like a green card, took months and three in-person interviews.
The US paperwork was in English and used familiar terms. The Mexican paperwork was mostly in Spanish. My Spanish is good enough for the local fruitería, but it’s not good enough for legal transactions. For the final step of the residency process, we ended up using an immigration lawyer.
Life is good: a stretch of beach in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico (Getty) ·Ruth Peterkin via Getty Images
About language. You’ll hear that everyone in Cabo speaks English. That’s baloney, unless by “everyone” you mean waiters in restaurants at resorts. Even if people can speak some English, they don’t always want to. For many, speaking English is work. If you don’t speak at least a little Spanish, you won’t be able to participate in the local culture, which is a big reason to live outside your home country.
Expats live in an in-between world. Certainly not tourists, but not locals either. Yes, in theory, you can live in a shack on the beach like Andy Dufresne in “The Shawshank Redemption” and eat beans and tortillas for 10 bucks a day. But you probably won’t. You’ll live in a nice, safe neighborhood. You’ll eat out frequently. You’ll use services like gardening and cleaning.
The net result is that it’s cheaper than the US, but not dirt cheap.
Cellular service, car insurance, property taxes, domestic help, veterinarians, dentists, and internet are all much cheaper. Homes are cheaper than in California, but more expensive than in Indiana. Electricity, water, many of the brands you’re familiar with, most durable goods, and Amazon cost more. (Yes, Amazon will ship to you in Mexico. They add customs duty to the price.)
Here’s a real example. This week, we ate at a special occasion restaurant called Jazamango. For three people, with appetizers, drinks, and mains, it cost $180. That same meal in the US would cost at least $250. Now, that was a pretty high-end meal, but in general, that’s about the way it works — maybe 30% less gives you a lifestyle equivalent to the US.
It’s like a vacation, but not like a vacation.
My favorite example is laundry. Who does laundry on vacation? Nobody I know. Living somewhere means dealing with laundry, grocery shopping, utilities, watch repairs — all the daily minutiae of life. Each of those activities, however simple, takes a little more effort when you’re in an unfamiliar place. In the States, I’d automatically toss a box of Ritz crackers into the cart. Here it’s a decision. Splurge for the imported brand, which might be stale anyway, or go with the local brand, Crackets? Those little differences that are so charming and piquant during a three-week vacation can become irritating after three months. Every once in a while, those petty irritations build up — drip drip drip — until your emotional teacup is ready to spill over, and you want to shout, “Why can’t they put the fabric softener in the aisle where it’s SUPPOSED to be?”
The rules in Mexico are not the same as in Bloomington, Ind.: Sam Hill. (Photo courtesy of Sam Hill)
However, by far the biggest challenge is that being an expat is life without a net. Mexico has excellent doctors, and they’re much cheaper than US doctors. But Medicare only works in the US, and once you pass 70, the cost of private Mexican insurance is prohibitive. That means having to create workarounds, like timing doctor appointments with visits to the States and paying out of pocket for some medical services. There’s always the risk of a sudden hospitalization, which can cost five figures, or even more for an expensive medevac.
There’s another risk that isn’t often discussed: the legal framework. In the US, citizens have basic rights like free speech, property rights, an expectation of equal and fair treatment before the police and judiciary, access to government services, etc. Many of these rights do not exist in other countries (e.g., free speech in Mexico isn’t as broad as in the US, and don’t even think about a handgun).
And having rights is not the same as being able to exercise them.
Laws and regulations are made for the people who live there and vote. To the extent those laws protect visitors, it’s incidental. Not that this is unique to Mexico. Ask anyone caught up in the immigration mess at our Southern border about the right to a speedy trial. Or, for that matter, ask anyone who’s ever bought a vacation home in small-town America and tried to get a building permit through the local zoning board. Outsiders don’t get the same treatment as locals.
It’s human nature to assume the rules are the same as back home. They’re not. And you’re most likely to find that out at the worst possible time.
This is my third time as an expat. I like the challenge of negotiating my way through an unfamiliar culture. Yes, the politics are far from perfect, but it’s not as grating when they’re not your politics. The language barrier turns the background noise down. And the story the Cabo realtors sell you — sun, cost of living, culture, food, lovely people — is all true. But it’s also not the whole story.
Being an expat comes with challenges and risks, even in a place with 365 days of sunshine and cheap margaritas.
Sam Hill is a former business executive for Kraft, Booz Allen, DMB&B, and FTI Consulting. Besides all that, he’s managed to find the time to write, or co-write, three business books, including the national bestseller “Radical Marketing,” a couple of novels, and dozens of pieces for the likes of Fortune, Bloomberg, the FT, Newsweek, and the Harvard Business Review.
