Today, our daughter, Tara (number two) is moving from Buenos Aires, Argentina to Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates.  She’s been teaching English to a range of students in Buenos Aires.  She absolutely loves teaching, but costs are rising and she is ready for a new adventure and better prospects for a good salary.

In her new job, Tara will be teaching kindergarten at a girls’ school.  Her apartment (provided for her by the school) is actually in the same building, so her cross-city commutes will disappear completely.  Her working hours will be 7:30 to 12:30, meaning no more late night classes to fit in private students who work long hours.   Her pay will be about five times as much as she was making in BA (which was considered good for a teacher), she gets extensive paid vacation and a ticket “home” once a year.  Needless to say, she’s pretty thrilled.

And we’re super excited for her as well.  She deserves this.  She’s a hard worker and she’s great at diving into new places.  I’m sure she’ll thrive.

But the interesting thing for Tom and me is that it feels as though something has shifted for our family. Until today, we had four of the six of us in South America, with Talya and Tara living across the street from each other in Buenos Aires and Tom and I living in the farmhouse in Uruguay.  We’re only about three hours away by bus/ferry, meaning we could see each other every month or two.  Taeko is in New York City and Teal is working the northern Mediterranean route for Norwegian Cruise Lines through January, so it felt as though the BA/Uruguay segment of the family was the anchor.

Now, our little clan’s domain has shifted eastward in a big way.  Taeko will be visiting us in late September, and she has a great invitation to spend Christmas with a good friend in Ireland.  She is hoping to join Tara in Abu Dhabi for New Year’s. Teal will be on the ship through the holidays, and though we hope she’ll make the trip down to BA/Uruguay to see Talya and Tom and me during her six weeks off, she might be tempted to head to Abu Dhabi or meet Tara somewhere for a visit.  We’re happy whenever our kids get together–we truly feel that the time they spend with each other is an investment in their future, so we always encourage their visits with each other rather than trips “home” to visit their parents.

It’s clear that our gatherings will become even more challenging over the next couple of years, but that’s perfectly fine with Tom and me.   Do I think we’ll always be so scattered?  Nope.  As Tara told me during our online chat this morning, “I think that when one of us has a kid, that’s when we’ll all look at ways to live close to each other.”  I think that’s true, and I look forward to it.

Until then, I’ll say yet another farewell with nothing but joy and enthusiasm.  These are their prime see-the-world years, and I couldn’t be happier that the girls are doing just that.

This is a post about transparency.  As a helpful visual aid, I offer this photo of the roof of our new back porch.  The old one was black, making the porch really dark.  I wanted the light, especially since the porch runs along the kitchen wall and having it clear means much more sun in the kitchen.  (Feel free to remind me of this folly during the summer months, but for now, it’s fabulous.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about transparency in all its forms for a number of reasons.  One, the remodel is ALMOST done (no, really) and we’re shifting our focus to the garden and ways to use our old windows for a series of cold frames or perhaps a greenhouse.

But that’s not really what I’ve been thinking about.

See, actually, I’m in the middle of a long agent-shopping process.  Those who have been following me for some time know that I decided to end my contract with my previous literary agent at the end of December.  It was an amicable split, but I have to point out that most writers I know think I was insane to give up a perfectly good agent.  The thing is, if your agent isn’t into what you want to write, there’s really no point in trying to force a partnership.  I think it’s essential for both author and agent to have flaming enthusiasm.  If it’s not there for one of them, it’s time to move on.

Anyway, in January, I pitched a memoir to several agents, got a ton of interest, several agents offering to represent me.  I picked one.  We worked together on the proposal, which changed in very big ways, and she pitched it to three publishers, all of whom rejected it.  (One said it lacked energy/drama, two said it was too speculative–they wanted more of it done before they would commit to it.  Fair enough.)  My agent was on the fence, not especially confident about selling it in a crowded travel/memoir market, so I decided to put it on the back burner.

Something interesting happened during that process.  I decided I didn’t want to write a memoir–at least, not the version most likely to sell.  More importantly, I decided that I didn’t even really want to write nonfiction.  (Keep in mind that everything I say is with regard to the present moment–I am not saying I NEVER want to write nonfiction.)  So, if I didn’t want to write nonfiction, but I wanted to write, that meant I had to write fiction.

Hmm.  I had never written fiction.

But I gave it a shot.  Why not?   And I had fun.  I wrote a contemporary women’s novel in about two months.  My new agent did not represent fiction, so I had to once again go on the hunt for a new agent, sending out queries.  I did that in May.  Three wanted to read the entire manuscript and did so–one hated it but was actually quite nice about my writing, two liked it but were not confident they could sell it in this crowded women’s fiction market.

Not one to rest on my laurels, I had already started another novel.  This time, I thought I’d play around with YA (Young Adult).  It happens to be the fastest-growing area of publishing.  I didn’t know anything about it, really, but I had an idea for a story, so I just started in.

I should mention that while I wrote the YA novel, I was a) staying in six different places during six weeks because b) our house was being remodeled and was impossible to live in and then c) okay to live in but still very noisy/dusty/disruptive with workers pounding or drilling or sawing all the live long day.  These are not ideal conditions for writing a book of any kind.

The funny thing is that I DID write it, and I loved every single minute of it.  It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, and that is saying something, since pretty much all I do is have fun.

In August, I ONCE AGAIN did the email pitches to agents, some of which dealt with YA only, and on Friday, I sent the full manuscript (87,000 words) to three agents who requested it.  Today, (Sunday) I sent it to another who did so.

Now, I wait.

I have no idea what will happen this time around.  I hope I get an agent.  I hope I get a book deal.  I really, really want to write a series of these YA novels.  But I get that the publishing market is shifting by the minute, that things are unpredictable, and that there’s no counting on anything.

I also realize that it takes a jaw-dropping amount of chutzpah to write a novel in ten weeks and expect ANYONE to even CONSIDER it.  It’s cocky as hell, really. But honestly, I think this one is pretty good.  I am not the judge of that, ultimately, but we’ll see what others say.  One thing I’ve learned is that if you want to get published, you must 1) write 2) pitch and 3) repeat.  You cannot be shy.  You cannot be reluctant.  You absolutely cannot give up when you get rejected fifty or seventy times.  You have to write and get better at it, and it sure helps if you happen to do it with a big grin on your face.

Another thing I’ve learned:  agents tend to be really nice people.  They love books, they love authors, and they really do care about the writing and their clients.  Still, it’s all about fit.  I’ve been very impressed by the kindness shown to me by agents, and truly appreciate the time they have taken to respond, to read my work, and to give me their honest opinion.  I feel confident that I will find the right agent for me eventually, and to be honest, I have really enjoyed this whole process.  I don’t even mind getting rejections–but I do prefer the personal ones (even when someone hates what I have written).

I’ll be spending the next days/weeks waiting to hear the verdict.  I also have a nonfiction proposal in the wings that I will pitch if the YA thing doesn’t really come together.  In the meantime, I’m going to go outside (spring is coming!) and play in the soon-to-be garden.

No matter what happens, I’m thrilled that I have had the chance to write so much in the last eight months.  For any aspiring writers out there who wonder how someone can crank out two novels and a third of a memoir in that time (admittedly not the highest quality, but a good 2o0,000 words nonetheless), I hereby reveal my personal secret to productivity:

A crappy internet connection.  No phone.  No television.   That’s my recipe for writing.

Wish me luck.

When we moved into this house in January, each room had a bare light bulb and no electrical outlets other than one in the kitchen for the refrigerator and one in the far corner of the living room.  We’ve had to do a little updating.

But we kept this.  It’s the dining room light fixture made by Javier, the previous owner.  He used old fence posts.  It has funky round loops that are quite handy for hanging drying underwear and socks when it happens to be raining outside.

Multi-purpose.  Gotta love that.

I’ve never been a very high-maintenance woman in terms of personal care items or clothing.  But at 50, I do hear the siren song of those magic anti-aging potions, and I pause to check out Jane Fonda’s or Sharon Stone’s wrinkles (or lack thereof) and consider how the product they’re pushing might take ten years off my face.

But here in the country, I’m trying to keep things really, really simple.  You know how some women have drawers full of make-up and lotions?  I used to be one of those women.  Hey, I have dry skin!  And I’m allergic to things!  So at one point, I ended up with a lot of tried and failed (or rash-inducing) products that I couldn’t see throwing out.  Of course, eventually, I gave them all away, which was liberating.  But things have a way of creeping up on you.  It turns out that Buenos Aires is the top city in the world in terms of the number of personal care products purchased per capita.  Number one!  That’s a lot of wrinkle cream.  And while I lived there, I ended up accumulating some of those magic potions myself.

Here on the farm in Uruguay, I wanted to keep things simple.  And here’s what helped most:

1)  We do not have any mirrors in the house except a small, usually steamed-up hand-held version (there’s a big one coming for our bathroom but is not installed yet).  So, I’m out of the habit of seeing myself in the mirror.  That’s kinda wonderful.

2) I purposely did not put any drawers in the bathroom, and I don’t like clutter, so my beauty regimen is pared down to what will fit very easily into one little basket. (see above)

Now, I could go without make-up, of course.  (Am I allowed to be a little vain here?  I look better with make-up.)

And some of the products change–in summer, I wear a lighter lotion that has SPF 35 rather than the heavier stuff I wear in winter.

Though I have lipstick, I almost never wear it.  In fact, come to think of it, I haven’t worn it once since we arrived in January.  Hmm–should give that away.

We arrived here with a backpack each.  Tom and I each have one biggish drawer for our clothes, and whatever is off-season (right now, that’s some t-shirts and light dresses for me) stays in our backpack til the season changes.  Here’s my drawer. (There are no closets.)

So, it’s an ongoing thing to figure out what you need, and the fun part is taking it to new levels of less.  I hope I get my beauty basket down to lotion-only at some point in my life (certainly I’ll be less vain when I’m 60 or 70?)  For now, this is what works for me.

Without my fancy creams, I’ve noticed that I have more lip lines.  I’ve never smoked in my life, but I do a lot of kissing.  If I grow into an old woman with deep kissing lines, I’d say that’s a pretty good mark of a life well lived.

So far, we don’t have anything on our walls in our farmhouse except this:  a metal cow that was nailed to a tree outside.  The previous owners must have left it–I loved it immediately.  It’s on our kitchen wall.

There are all kinds of cool things to play with to decorate the yard, and they’re all stashed in three big hollows in this tree.  There have to be about fifty items in there–horse shoes, hand tools, and a bunch of things we can’t figure out but that look interesting.  I’m storing them inside the tree until we get to the gardening/outdoor part.  Here, you can see an original round window frame (house was built in 1917 and this is a style that was commonly used but must have been removed at some point), plus some sort of round blade and a funky thingamajig that looks sort of like a bee hive.  Garden art!  Thank you, previous owners.

I get a lot of email from people all over the world who are curious about how much it costs to live in Uruguay.  Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m happy to share our monthly living costs, just to give you an idea of what’s possible.

Please note that we have no mortgage or rent to pay:  we already purchased our 90-year-old four-bedroom house (1,200 square feet) on five acres for $36,000 and we put another $20,000 or so into improvements, such as a new roof, new windows, new floors, updated kitchen and bath, etc.  Nothing fancy—just investing in the long-term comfort and efficiency of the house.  We spent about $3,800 on our car and so far, we’ve spent about $400 to furnish the house and expect to pay another $500 or so for an additional bed/nightstands for one of the upstairs bedrooms, a couple of chairs for the other one, and an outdoor picnic table and chairs.  (We found a local carpenter who does beautiful work that is very reasonably priced.)

Okay, here is a list of what we spend in an average month here (in US dollars):

Food: $200  (will be considerably less in summer once we have our garden)

Health insurance for two: $120  (covers everything except dental)

Entertainment: $100 (trips to Montevideo or Buenos Aires, meals out, etc.)

Electricity: $50 (more right now during construction, less in summer when we’re outside later)

Internet: $40

Gas: $40

Car insurance: $3

Water: free (we have a well)

Garbage: no service (we take a small bag into town once a week)

So, let’s call it about $600 a month.

Our youngest daughter is living in our studio apartment in Buenos Aires and pays the expenses, so there are no costs there.  We could rent it out for additional income, but have no plans to do so anytime soon.

We do some nice back-and-forth with the neighbors here in Uruguay:  one neighbor is using our four unused acres as pasture for his cow and three sheep, and he paid another neighbor to cut all the grass/weeds for us.  We bought some firewood from him that was leftover from the windstorm that knocked down a couple of his eucalyptus trees.  We could grow a cash crop here if we wanted to, but at this point, we have no plans to do so–we’ll max out the one acre around the house with fruit trees, vegetables, herbs and flowers before deciding what to do with the rest of the property.

Keep in mind that we don’t really DO anything. We write.  We putter around.  We get together with friends.  We chat online with our daughters daily and update our blogs.  Mostly, we just have fun being here, learning about our community and neighbors and enjoying the beauty of the place.

What about income? I make some money online through the sales of my mindfulness courses and parent mentoring, and this month, I have both a completed manuscript and a proposal for another non-fiction book that are being considered.  Though it’s tough to say what kind of income those could generate, a modest advance of $30,000 or $40,000 for one of them could support us quite luxuriously for more than a year.  Of course, we could start another business, but don’t feel the need to do that right now.

Is it ideal? Well, it is for us.  Not everyone would want this lifestyle, and to be honest, a year ago, I would have thought it ridiculous to even consider it!  But here we are, and every single day is a joy.  I have confidence that we can live like this very happily for a long time, but if we do get bored, we can always spend time in BA or do some traveling elsewhere.  I hope to have this place for many, many years, and I think it’s the perfect “retirement” plan, though I hope I never consider myself either employed or retired.

Again, not every person in Uruguay lives like us!  Some will live on far more, some on far less, and it’s important to note that we live in the country, not in the city.  But everyone has to make their own choices about what’s important, what’s necessary, and what’s kind of ridiculous.  For us, living simply is an ongoing adventure in discovering what matters most to us.  It’s amazing what you don’t miss—and astounding how much you can gain from paring things down.

Anyway, I hope this answers a few questions, but feel free to ask if you need some clarification.

What’s the place look like? Well, there are photos on this site, but here are a couple to give you the general idea.

I love the views of the neighboring fields, cows and rolling hills.  This is looking north–not our best view but still very peaceful.  The sliding glass door in the dining area goes out onto a brick patio/pergola, which will be covered with vines to make it shady in summer.  Those are our gutters and downspouts in the grass, waiting to be installed.  Things should be finished next week or so, and then all that’s left is some painting.

The last photo is the dining/kitchen area, which also happens to be our writing area as it’s close to the woodstove! There is more living room space behind me, and two bedrooms and a bathroom off to the right.

Remember the white boots I bought last summer after the fire ant incident?  They are my go-to footwear whenever I step outside to dump compost, hang laundry, visit the cows, or wander through the meadow.

Depending on his mood, Tom opts for his fake Crocs, his knee-high rubber boots, or his leather campo boots (in the photo below) just like the gauchos wear.  Here’s a photo taken in our kitchen by the back door.  Love the concrete wall of our cooking island.

This is a photo taken by our new front door.  You can tell it’s new–there’s no longer a two-inch gap underneath it!  These are our going-into-town boots.  Note that they are also muddy.  You can only get so fancy out here.

The kitchen is Tom’s domain, and he fills all kinds of glass containers with the food we buy in bulk at our local store.  Beautiful, no?

A lot of people have been asking to see photos of our remodeled farmhouse.  I guess I’ve been reluctant to post them because it’s just not a very wow house, you know?  And I mean that in the best way possible.  We specifically did NOT WANT it to look even remotely upscale, so we kept things very simple.

To give you an idea, the kitchen redo was less than $1,000.

Concrete counters (they look old already).

Open shelves in the original concrete under-counter area.

The same tile backsplash with the addition of a narrow shelf for cups and glasses.

A new tile floor.

It’s very simple.  That’s what I love about it.

But for those who insist on seeing what it looks like, I’ll post a few photos this week.

We drink a lot of tea. And mate.  And even instant coffee.  (It’s winter.)  Everything is very handy and visible.  There are no closed cabinets–just open space/shelves under the concrete counter.

It’s been an eventful week.

Over a week ago now, the stray dog that had adopted us was killed instantly by a car on our road.  She was not very smart about cars or about other dogs, and was constantly running across the way to pick a fight with the neighbors’ dogs and then dash back across the road.  She was nearly hit several times, and so it was not a surprise when it finally happened.  Poor thing.

A few days later, a stray pig showed up.  He was huge and clearly disturbed by his circumstances but was very friendly.  The workers were quite entranced.  Anyway, the next day, Tom and I were out doing errands (and fixing a flat tire on a country road) and when we returned, the workers told us that a neighbor had come and chased the pig, finally lassoing him and bringing him home.

The workers have been building a brick wall that’s part of our carport, along with laying cement for the brick patio.  They mix everything by hand, so it’s slow going.  The front door was installed, and it’s beautiful, but now we have to wait to repair (in concrete) the wall around it, making it smooth enough to paint.  I’ve been painting our two downstairs bedrooms (had to be redone because of the window installation, which requires chiseling out the old and plastering in the new).

And on Saturday, Amadeo and Arlen (our carpenters) showed up and spent a full day installing shelves in our bathroom and kitchen and molding in various places to keep the cold air out.  This photo shows the truck they drove (an old Chevy) and their thermos of hot water for mate.  I was really impressed by their diligence and beautiful workmanship.  In fact, I’ve been really impressed by all of the workers.

Still, I am getting tired of wearing boots inside my house and having everything covered with dust.  That part will be over soon and we’ll be putting the place together.  Our youngest daughter arrives on Friday for several days, followed by her older sister, so we’re pretty motivated to get the living areas comfortable.  This week, we’ll finish painting downstairs, hang some curtains, get our furniture (custom made by a local man), and it’ll feel like home.

Did I think we’d still be in this process in mid-July back in late April when we started?  No.  But then, neither does anyone going through a remodel, and we did what most people do:  added extra steps along the way (bathroom, tile floors, back porch).  All things considered, it’s gone amazingly well, and it’s been a fascinating cultural experience.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that all workers in Latin America are slow, irresponsible, or out to rip you off. There are people like that everywhere, but in our case, we’ve had the most charming and can-do contractor imaginable and our architect is the most professional person I have met in my life–period.  She is really fun, has a great eye and a head for details, and she gets things DONE.  She anticipates everything, always suggests cheaper alternatives, and despite the fact that we have never once used English with her, she really understands what we want (sometimes better than we do).  Oh, and she’s meticulous about the money details:  we’re following the budget exactly–no surprises (other than the parts we added).  Honestly, it’s been easier than any remodeling projects we ever did in the States, and we were happy with those as well.

Of course, others will tell horror stories.  There are those. I guess we’ve been lucky. Our farmhouse is going to be fabulous (in a rustic way).