My life has been powerfully and irrevocably changed by a shift in geography. A small change, really, only 9 degrees of latitude, but a significant 9 degrees. I do and accept things that I never could have imagined before. I call it "The Mexico Effect". We have been here for 6 months now, and I figured it might be nice to share some of the ways – both inconsequential and monumental – my life has been transformed.

I have a social life. Or, I guess, more importantly, I make time for a social life. Chuck and I have had a "you and me against the world" kind attitude toward life for so long, that it has been difficult. It's still tempting to stay at home and work, but we have made so many wonderful friends, we look forward to spending a relaxed evening or sunny afternoon with them.

I shop at a lot of little stores. And I do it daily. I used to save up all my shopping as long as possible, two weeks if I could manage it, then hit Walmart. No longer. Now I shop daily. In the morning, we walk down to the little grocery at the bottom of the hill. The family that owns the market welcomes us with a warm "buenas dias", and we get fresh eggs, produce, refried beans, chorizo, juice, hot tamales – whatever we need to make it through the typical day. Their prices are cheaper and their produce is better than the big stores like Walmart and Sorianna.

If I need produce beyond the typical tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, limes, potatoes and jalapeños, I go to my favorite fruiteria and see the two widows who own the place. They have everything you could possibly want: star fruit, kiwis, peaches, red bell peppers, pineapple, plums, and a bunch of stuff I can't identify.

On the way home from the little grocery, I always stop at the tortilleria for fresh, hot tortillas. Or, I also sometimes get masa, tortilla dough, to drop into soup like dumplings. And, thankfully, I have finally figured out how to pay properly. The woman who counts out and packages your tortillas does it with her bare hands. She won't touch money. It caused some awkward moments the first few times, but now I know. I hold out my hand with the coins in it, so she can see I am paying the correct amount, and then drop the money into the bucket on the counter. I always have the correct coins. I am not yet ready to tackle the question of how to get change.

For water we go visit the smiling, toothless, old man who always tells me my Spanish is improving. For shrimp, I always visit my favorite shrimp lady. She always has high-quality, fresh shrimp and gives me a great price.

There is a little store for everything: plumbing, electrical, bread, pastry, dishes, there are even stores that have every kind of screw known to man. It took some getting used to, but I really like shopping this way.

I walk more, drive less. Chuck and I used to go through at least a tank of gas in each car every week. Now we are down to one car and go though a half tank of gas every three weeks. It just seems like so much trouble to get the car out of the garage. It's easier, and more enjoyable, to walk. Of course, I used to have to quit shopping when the trunk was full. Now I have to quit when my hands are full.

I eat better food. Both better quality and better for me. We haven't had any fast food hamburgers or microwave meals packed with chemicals and preservatives since we moved here. We eat a lot of fresh fish and shrimp and plenty of locally grown produce. We do still stop for a quick taco or roasted pork sandwich, but it's wonderfully fresh and chemical free.

I have a maid and a gardener. And it's wonderful. I am a wretched housekeeper, and it really is wonderful to have someone come by once a week and clean the bathrooms, do all the floors, scrub the kitchen, and put away all the stuff.

I am more tolerant of noise. There is no way around it. Mazatlan is loud. The city is always full of the sounds of bustling life. There are the normal sounds of people and traffic. But there are so many added sounds. We have fireworks all the time. And there are almost as many parades as fireworks. No parade is complete without a police siren. There are barking dogs and crowing roosters. Children play in the neighborhood streets. We hear live bands from the bars below us on Olas Altas. Neighborhood parties last until sunrise. Music has only one volume – all the way up. People laugh and dance and sing unabashedly. Extraneous noise used to drive me nuts. But the sounds here are usually the good natured soundtrack to people embracing life and enjoying themselves, and I am not bothered. Besides, I can always turn my own stereo to full volume and drown them out.

I know my neighbors. Back in Fort Worth, I knew the names of very few of my neighbors, let alone their schedules. Here, I know my neighbors, and their extended families, and can predict their movements in a typical day. Monica, up the street, walks her son to school every morning, does her shopping, then walks him back home. She always has friends over every Saturday night. Enrique, down the street, walks the dog early, then goes to work. He comes home late. They always have Domino's pizza delivered on Sundays. Paola, behind us, starts the barbecue for lunch at 11:30. She is delighted we removed the tree that was blocking her view. We know our neighbors so much better here, and we don't even speak the same language.

I buy food in boxes. I know, it sounds weird. A lot of prepackaged food comes in boxes: tomato sauce, refried beans, juice, salsa, milk...yes, milk. And cream. In a box on the shelf. They call it ultra pasteurized and it's really good. Once you get over the weirdness of it, you realize it makes sense. A lot of homes don't have refrigerators. Boxes create less waste than jars and other packaging. They are lighter, so they reduce shipping weight, and bring prices down. You don't have to worry about breakage during shipping, or while you are carrying them home. They save energy by not requiring a cold case in the store. Yes, you can still buy regular, fresh milk. But I don't.

I've acclimatized. And it happened very quickly. I was afraid of living without air conditioning, especially in a tropical climate. But the Summer wasn't that bad. The recent cold spell has been a problem for me. I find daily highs in the 60's to be cold enough that it is physically painful. I am looking forward to highs in the 90's and 80% humidity. Go figure.

People just stop by, and I am okay with it. Stopping by used to be one of my biggest pet peeves. I have denied people entrance to my house because they didn't call first. But things are different here. A lot of people don't have telephones. For some of my friends, it is much cheaper to come over if they want to talk to me than it is to call my cell phone. Sometimes my friends are just out for a stroll, find themselves near my house, and stop to say hello. It's okay. There is nothing I am doing that is more important than a friend (I sometimes have to remind myself of that). I just make sure to always have ready snacks.

I lack privacy. This was the hardest thing to get used to. Our houses are close together and we live with the windows open. I can hear my neighbor making breakfast. I know when she is fighting with her boyfriend. I used to be afraid to talk much above a whisper. Mazatlan has about the same size population as Fort Worth, but encompasses drastically less land area. You can't have people that close together without losing privacy. But, unbelievably, I have gotten used to it. I have also come to realize that the locals have developed a defense mechanism. They turn a blind eye. If you come upon a young couple in an isolated spot (meaning there are no people within 20 feet) having a cuddle, you ignore it. It doesn't exist. Its weird, but it works. The close proximity is also what creates the intense sense of community that we have found here and hold so dear.