Mexico 2025 # Cabo, In Search of Home (Patreon)

So we went to Cabo.

Cabo is located at the very tip of the Baja California peninsula. Ocean on one side, and… basically ocean on the other. I’m still not entirely sure what counts as what, but there is water everywhere.

And the biggest surprise - it’s a desert.

For some reason I was convinced Mexico meant jungles, humidity, parrots, dramatic greenery. Instead - cacti, sand, dry air and a sun that feels like you accidentally landed on Mars.

We were welcomed by a woman Gary used to work with. She manages big villas in one of the areas and hosted us in one of them. And when I say big, I mean enormous. Some houses here have 10 to 12 bedrooms. Twelve. I genuinely don’t know what people do with that many bedrooms. Host conferences? Raise children in bulk?

Cabo turned out to be much nicer climate-wise than I expected. And within the first days we saw whales - they come here to spend the winter and give birth. Standing on the shore watching a massive whale rise out of the water is the kind of moment that makes you forget you have any problems at all.

At the same time, we were dealing with documents. And somehow - miraculously - we managed not only to extend the visa, but to get temporary residency. When we received the cards, we finally exhaled. For the first time in a long while, there was ground under our feet)

Then we started looking for our home.

The area is gated, guarded, mostly tourists and Americans. It was important for Gary to feel that I would be safe here when he travels to Texas. Which makes sense. But most houses here are either gigantic or oddly cold. Spacious, expensive, but without soul. Or with interiors that make you wonder if the designer was feeling experimental… or unwell. I didn’t want a palace. I wanted a place where I could walk barefoot and make tea in the morning.

After endless viewings, Gary’s sleepless nights, negotiations and second thoughts — we found a small house. Three bedrooms. Not new. Not perfect. Not freshly renovated. But warm. Human. And something inside me softened when I stepped in.

We moved in)

But if I’m honest - that entire period of waiting for documents, moving around, not knowing what would happen next - was very hard for me.

On the outside, everything looked beautiful. Ocean. Whales. Sun. Friends visiting. Inside - constant tension. I started developing fears. The world suddenly felt unsafe. Scorpions felt threatening. The ocean felt dangerous. Everything seemed like a potential risk.

The nights were the strangest. In the desert, winter nights are windy. When I went to bed, I could hear the waves crashing against the shore. And the sound felt so loud to me that my brain made other associations. It sounded like explosions. Like I was back in Ukraine. Even though I knew I wasn’t.

Now it’s been a year. Same winter. Same winds. And I don’t hear the waves at all.

Back then, my nervous system was in survival mode. I reacted to every sound, every uncertainty, every shift. My body simply couldn’t process the speed of change.

The photos from that time look joyful. And many moments truly were. But my inner state was fragile.

Today I can look back at that period calmly. And maybe the biggest sign of healing is that the ocean now just sounds like the ocean