Erin's Journals

Just a thought… We all make mistakes. The key is learning from those mistakes and not repeating them. [Debbie Macomber]

As I spend another week here in Nuevo Vallarta, Mexico, my rental house gets quieter than it’s been since I arrived nearly four weeks ago: big sister Cindy returns home to Ajijic (near Lake Chapala and Guadalajara), and it’s just me and my two girls.

I’m not going to post sunsets and scenery; that’s for other social media (on Threads @erindawndavis or Bluesky @erindavis) where people can scroll by rather than silently seethe, or worse, tell me to get stuffed!

Years of hearing from upset CHFI listeners, who were not on the trip with winners and their hosts (us) when we did our shows from warmer climes during bitter winters, taught me that you have to share the more universal experiences without rubbing people’s noses in what you’re doing that they are not. Or encourage them to try to win a trip the next time around. I learned that lesson and hope I have put it to use here.

But there’s one story I haven’t told you, because I wasn’t allowed to at the time. Settle in and think nice warm Jamaica thoughts. Here we go.

It was January 2003. Bob Magee and I were doing morning shows and sharing a week with winners at a Beaches resort and it was late one night. I had had my share of wine and cocktails with dinner and I decided it would be nice to have a night time swim in the ocean, something I used to enjoy doing at our lake, as well. I love to swim in the dark. (Cue Jaws theme.)

But one of the myriad differences between, say, tiny Minden Lake and an ocean is what we don’t see in it. And here’s where things get painful.

I swam as far out as I dared that night, and to catch my breath, I paddled over to a long dock that jutted out into the moonlit waters. Placing my elbows on the deck, I kicked my legs and brought them up under me, inadvertently brushing against one of the pilings that held it up.

Then I felt it. A mad, painful stinging in one of my legs. I shrieked and brushed frantically at my leg, ankle and foot, only to add that same pain now to the inner arm that had swept along the injured places. Regaining what was left of my sanity, I turned and swam back to the beach where Rob and Bob were waiting for me, wondering what the heck had happened.

When I stumbled out of the water in shock and pain, both men could see blood streaming down my leg and my arm. They carefully led me to the lobby of the hotel where there was better light, and sure enough, there were black puncture holes and needle-like spikes sticking out of my foot, my arm and parts of my leg.

I was crying, ridiculously saying, “I didn’t do anything!” but indeed, dear reader, I had: I’d brushed up against one or more sea urchins and they had their way with me. (And no, peeing on them does not help at all, no matter what the sitcoms may have told us!)

There wasn’t much could be done to help me that night; I limped to the resort doctor’s little hut the next day and was treated, but I don’t remember how or with what (I mean, it was over two decades ago and I was traumatized and probably hung over). There were injections and, at that point, I felt like a pin cushion anyway.

Why couldn’t I talk about it on the air? Because it was an experience that would make our resort look less than perfect, even though it was a story that would have been quite interesting to listeners. But I got it; we didn’t want to make it seem as if the waters at the resort were anything but welcoming. I brought that injury upon myself by breaking all kinds of common sense rules and I’m sure you can list them without me having to.

To wrap up: when I got home I went to a tropical disease centre at one of the Toronto hospitals (yes, we have them!) and was told it would be more painful to remove what spikes were left than to let them dissolve, which they did. I don’t even have any black spots left as reminders, a constellation of carelessness on my skin.

I learned a couple of good lessons there. This is probably the first time I’ve told the story of the Great Sea Urchin Encounter, and a much lovelier memory of that trip is of Jann Arden singing live on the show as I cried watching a cruise ship cross the horizon. It was a perfect moment and the one that I choose to take from that trip. Unlike the super-short hair cut here that I kinda hated.

But I got a small dose of revenge: next time we went for sushi, I made sure to order the sea urchin. I didn’t enjoy it all that much, but it had to be done.

Have a lovely week and thanks for coming on this trip (or the memories thereof) with me. Talk to you this Thursday with Lisa and Episode 156 of Gracefully and Frankly, where you hear stories like this ALL the time, for better, for worse, for laughs and for real.

Just a thought… Watch out for blessing blockers: fear, anger, doubt, worry, regret, jealousy, negative people. [Karen Salmansohn]

It’s dawned on you by now that this is the first day of the last month of 2025. If you’re like me, you have no idea where the other 11 months have flown, but you’re taking time to look back on the year that was. There’s plenty of room for retrospection in the 30 days ahead – from words and people of the year to remembering those we lost, and so on; I’d like to focus today on embracing change.

My sister Cindy is here for a few weeks and brought with her a couple of tarot and oracle card decks. From the readings and spreads I have had the last few days, there’s plenty of change in my year ahead. Loss – or letting go – is a big theme, as is the Garden and the Gate: key around her neck, a girl sits where it’s safe and comfortable, but beyond the gate are riches and the possibility of better things. Contract card came up a few times in different readings. But the big one was that girl.

A Google search yielded this, a summary of analyses from a variety of sources:

The “Garden and the Gate” oracle card suggests that while you may be in a place of comfort, like a beautiful garden, a locked gate might represent a fear of the unknown that is preventing you from exploring new opportunities and your true path. The card’s message is to enjoy your current blessings while having the awareness to use the “key” (your will and awareness) to open the gate and embrace a wider world. 

That is me. This month marks nine years since we pulled up stakes and headed west to beautiful Vancouver Island, leaving one home we thought was forever for another for which we had those same plans. Well, as we said good-bye to our first BC moorings, we became ready to embrace the land beyond the gate: community, friendship, activity and the feeling of belonging that we instantly felt in tiny Sidney-by-the-Sea. A place where if, to paraphrase the Cheerstheme song, not everyone knows your name, they sure want to know what your dogs are called – and that is, to me, even better!

It may surprise you to learn that next month, even as I am still here in Mexico, Rob and I will close a deal on a tiny house on a nearby island. I was introduced to Pender a year ago when my Gracefully and Frankly pod partner and friend Lisa Brandt set up a meeting there with a friend of hers, the singer/rocker Sarah Smith. I fell in love with the island and its hospitality immediately, a feeling that was echoed even without our friend’s accompaniment. It simply felt like we belonged.

During Rob’s and my road trip to Alberta in September we stayed in a few cabins and said to each other how nice it would be to have a tiny place to call our own. Not another house; just a one- or two-bedroom with a fireplace and privacy where we could escape and cocoon. And we started to peruse listings on nearby BC islands.

The one that found us is a nearly new place with one loft bedroom, a wood burning stove and heated floors and everything we could possibly need. Nestled in the woods (we drove past the driveway looking for it, and that was with an agent!) there were four deer just outside the living room window and two more lying down on a ridge above. Nature laid out the welcome mat, and we, my friend, have stepped across it to make the tiny 790 square foot place our own.

The smaller Gulf Islands are a ferry ride from Vancouver Island and this one is but a 45 minute sail. Add to that the ten minute drive from our condo to the terminal and the lineup to wait for boarding, and you still have less commute time to even our closest Ontario cottage.

Rob asks, only half joking, “But why would you want to come home?” once I’m there with the dogs, my coffee maker, WiFi, fire and the MINI.

But the answers will come in their own time. It’s a place of quiet, of tranquil independence and a connection not only with self but with nature. The ocean’s shore is a bit farther away than it is from our condo, but that’s not why we chose this place, which already has a name, and into which Rob will move our things while I lie around here in the Nuevo Vallarta sun.

Our Ontario forever home, the one we built with love in Jackson’s Point, where Lauren’s wedding party had their makeup done and where we all shared in our last family Christmas together in 2014, had a nickname: Hedgie. Sitting on Hedge Road as it did, and sharing the moniker of our dog’s favourite toy, a hedgehog, it was perfect.

This place is a teeny version of that home. It’s a tight fit in many ways, like the underwear up the bum that shares its name, which echoes our heart home on Lake Simcoe.

It shall be Wedgie. And it shall be on the other side of that metaphorical gate. (Not a real one; no way am I keeping the deer out.)

Thanks for coming by and sharing our journey just a bit. And have a gentle entry into this busiest of months.

Just a thought…Do you know what a foreign accent is? A sign of bravery. [Amy Chua]

Well, they’ve swept up after Toronto’s Santa Claus Parade and we are truly into the holiday season. For me it’s a matter of bracing for the emotional onslaught (which does get easier every year), but in a different house and country there are mercifully few reminders of what was…and we can do things our own quiet way, if at all, just Rob, me and the perros.

If you picked up through context what perros means (dogs), good for you! You’re on your way to learning more Spanish than hola (never say the “h”), gracias and dos cervezas por favor (two beers, please). I’m on day 159 of my DuoLingo Spanish, and while I wanted to take lessons with a human teacher years ago when I lived in Toronto and I’m kicking myself for not doing so, the second best time is now, right?

See here’s the problem: it’s one thing to learn on an app, but another experience entirely putting that limited vocabularly to use. I’ve been able to use a handy translator app on my phone when I have to go to the gate house to get a package from Alejandro or Delfino, neither of whom speak inglés. But with smiles and thanks, we always seem to be able to communicate. We are trying. (The first day we met Alejandro I was sure to tell him we are Canadians. Tapped my heart and said, “Amigos!”)

I asked a boy in the pool the other day if he was having fun – or “it’s fun, yes?” in Spanish, and he said, “mmm-hmm”. He didn’t laugh, so yay me.

We are figuring out settings on the TV or Mexican Amazon (yes, we have to use the oft-hated app here if we want certain things I can’t get at Walmart or the local shops). But oh, friend, let me tell you about the stupidest mistake I’ve made online in a long time. And yes, I’ve made a lot of them!

I told this story in last Thursday’s Episode 153 of www.gracefullyandfrankly.com and believe me, it’s funnier to hear than to read, so Lisa Brandt and I hope you’re a G&F listener. Here we go.

I’ve mentioned that for the past few years, I’ve been doing keto. Basically it’s a way of eating wipes out sugar, flour and most carbs, so I’m limited in what I choose. Do I dine outside the lines? Absolutely! No WAY I’m not having fresh pineapple or a warm corn tortilla in a restaurant. But at home, where we do most of our meals, I have my keto tortillas that we brought in from Costco in Canada.

Back to the purchase. I decided whilst still in Canada to order a few things to eat here in Nuevo Vallarta before we could shop. Among them was a loaf of keto bread to keep meals interesting. First I clicked on the “translate” option in the address bar at amazon.com.mx and read in English what I was getting. The numbers looked good, I perused the price and clicked to put it in my cart, along with a few other things I couldn’t pack. It wasn’t until they were delivered that Rob looked at his Amazon Prime account and he said, “Do you realize you paid $37 for those two loaves of bread?”

Well, if I’d have been eating a slice, I’d have spit it across the room. I realized that my mental peso/Canadian dollar conversion had gone awry. Of course the site said $487 (you divide by ten and then three-quarters of that works out roughly to our dollar). But somehow I missed it. Blame shopping late at night during the stressful time of moving out of our house (which closed last Wednesday by the way) and you have bread that’s almost hotel room service price. I froze one loaf and I will mete out the slices like I’m on a deserted island.

So yeah, call this journal Lost in Translation. We make mistakes, no one dies, and we learn. Meantime my education continues: we’ve been walking to locally owned restaurants and I’m trying to get a sense of direction for when my compass on legs (Rob) sets his sites to North and heads home Thursday.

So far, so good! I’ve got delivery (water) and pickup (garbage) times down, and the girls and I are anticipating my sister Cindy’s arrival tomorrow from her home four hours away. She’s driving on the new toll road and we’ll have her carro! (Bet you figured that one out too.) Thank goodness SHE will be behind the wheel and not I.

Have a good week and thanks so much for stopping by. I won’t mention weather or anything that’ll make you want to smack me, so keep coming back.

In the meantime I’ll be peppering Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories with more Christmas and holiday tales, so be sure and check in every night. A brand new (old, of course) Charles Dickens tale drops next week. Find Drift with an easy, free link at www.erindavis.com. And sweet dreams!

Just a thought… As you move outside of your comfort zone, what was once the unknown and frightening becomes your new normal. [Robin Sharma]

I won’t say that all of that worry was for nothing; it prepared us for any possibility, and maybe that’s why everything on our big travel day last Thursday from Victoria airport to Puerto Vallarta went so smoothly. Some of it was luck, but a lot was preparation. And even more had to do with patience.

Last week started out on a decidedly rocky note: the breeder through whom we got Dottie and Livi decided she wasn’t sure Dot would be home in time for her next breeding cycle, and Bev wants a second litter from Dottie next summer. So she messaged about a bunch of vaccines they would need (we had all but one which is particularly hard to get, as I found out by calling several local vets in a panic and not getting any positive responses).

Then she told us she wanted Dottie to stay back with her for the winter. SO I did the chat feature with WestJet (disconnecting by accident while flipping back to my online receipt emails) and eventually, while connected again, getting a message from Bev that, no, she thought Dot would be better with US for the winter. So after all of that: cancelling Dot’s seats down and back, we had to rebook them.

For that bit of sorcery I decided to swallow the $25 and call an actual person. By the end of the day we were wrung out like a dish rag and no closer to being packed for the trip that was coming on Thursday. But we had our girls together (if not our act) and on we went.

I’ll fast forward to Thursday and, in brief, tell you everything that could have gone wrong, but didn’t:

Taxi on time. Perfect. Except I left my big sun hat in the condo and had to run up to get it. Phew.

Got through check-in at WestJet with no hassles about dog or carrier size. Excellent.

Rob weighing the suitcases and coming in under a pound below the weight limit (the trip IS for for months) paid off. No overage fees.

Flight left on time and was without drama. Girls stayed quiet in their carriers under our the seats in front of us. New plane, so softer seats, even slept an hour with my head in my lap (yes, I was that exhausted).

Got off the plane quickly BUT as we were nearing the never-ending line for customs, I asked Rob, “Where’s my hat?” Yep, it was back in overhead on the plane. So, like a salmon fighting the current, he had to go back and get the damned thing. (It was a new hat and would’ve been crushed in the luggage.)

Dogs checked out fine in inspection and the gentleman couldn’t have been nicer. They even had fake grass and a hydrant which both dogs were relieved (pardon the pun) to use.

Customs were glacially slow with a few flights arriving simultaneously, but if we’d gotten 10 pesos for everyone who made a fuss over the girls, our trip would have been covered. They loved it.

Finally emerged through the sea of cab drivers looking for our business and connected with the owner of the home we’re renting for the winter. She gave us a drive to the house, we got the tour, and then after we’d unpacked, she returned and took us to dinner in a local restaurant. A true taste of Mexico and Rob treated himself to not one, but two local cervezas. He earned every ice cold drop.

So, here we are, a few days into our stay. We’ve walked around the neighbourhood to the little local grocery and food stores to get what we needed for a few days and tomorrow our host is taking us to Walmart for everything else to get us stocked up.

I DID forget to eat or take water on our walking excursion and had to steady myself by gripping a store shelf, then sit outside and sip water, when I thought I was going to faint. Part of it was being nervous about a completely different feeling, outside my comfort zone in every way. What an awful sensation, though! Won’t go without a water bottle again.

The little pool in the neighbourhood isn’t heated and doesn’t need to be (for my liking) and there’s plenty of shade. There’s a bit of house building going on in the neighbourhood but nothing that will bother us. We’re going with the flow and still getting our footing. My Spanish? Well that’s one for the next journal. Let’s say I need practice, but I’m getting by.

So for now, I’ll sign off, mi amiga o amigo, and every week here I’ll share new adventures. For the funnier side, be sure to listen this Thursday as Lisa and I share her travels and mine at www.gracefullyandfrankly.com. Thank you for coming along.

And one pic for the road of two of my favourite furry beings settling in.

Just a thought… Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow. [Swedish proverb]

Vaccines: check.

Move out cleaning: check.

Packing list: some checks….

Well, this is a week fraught with worry for us, but nothing like food insecurity or illness. Not real worry. No – this is the kind of “you did this to yourselves!” anxiety, which gives you a fresh voice in your head to try to drown out!

This Thursday Rob and I will fly to Puerto Vallarta where we’ve rented a house in nearby Nuevo Vallarta. He stays two weeks, comes back down at Christmas and returns one more time to get me in March, and I’m packing for four months there.

I’ve never done this: tried to fill two large suitcases with clothes (not many) and our comforts of home. Does the house we’re renting have a coffee maker? Of course, but it’s not a Nespresso, so we’re taking our tiny one, alongside – don’t laugh – an air fryer. They’re in the suitcase, and so is my weighted blanket. Anything else I need I’ll buy there, once I figure out how to get to and from the shops without a car. My step counter is going to be very happy this winter!

As you may have heard on Gracefully and Frankly Episode 151 (and if you’re not listening, join us – you’re missing a fun half hour with me and my pal and radio vet Lisa Brandt, free every Thursday or whenever) we are taking Dottie and Livi with us to Mexico to keep me company for the winter.

We flew with them to Ottawa last spring on the same airline as a trial run; all went well as they curled up in their respective carriers under the seats ahead of us. This time, though, we have to stop off at a special office in the PVR airport and get them checked, present their papers and make sure they get the green light.

Here’s where the worry comes in: there’s no good reason they won’t be okayed, and we even went to our own YYJ airport to make sure the girls’ carriers suited WestJet’s extremely picky size allowances, but…what if something goes wrong? We had to pay $100 per dog, each way, to get them there and back (in otherwise unused space under the seat ahead of us); a trip to the vet last week to have their papers checked and get flea/tick/heartworm meds for the winter all came to the grand sum of $800. Yep. Not travelling for a long trip with the girls again, I’m afraid. And I know I won’t be going away for this long again.

Anyway, I’ll be sure to keep you posted here and on my Facebook page as we take off Thursday and land and get settled in our new winter abode. Life was a lot easier just making the three-day drive to California but, of course, any travel to or through the US is not going to happen. We even got a direct flight from Victoria (hurray!) to make sure. Hearing that plenty of US airports are cutting back flights makes us doubly sure we made the right decision.

As for other worries (like where to get a meal the first night without a car or groceries), we’ll deal with them when we settle in. My nicotine gum addiction (’cause it’s always something with me) is facing some serious challenges as any nicotine replacements are forbidden in Mexico. I’ll take what I can get away with and then figure it out. I wanted to quit it anyway…and Rob will be lucky he won’t be around when I do.

So that’s where we are. After a weekend spent cleaning the house that we’ve sold and closes while we’re away, the days ahead involve tying up loose ends: lawyer visit, hair, nails, dog groomer, etc.. I’m also getting more Drift with Erin Davis sleep stories recorded in my studio so I can edit while I’m away and have fresh ones for you in the months ahead.

I thought about writing Christmas cards that Rob can mail when he gets back to Canada before December arrives, but I’m afraid I’ll just have to miss them this year. Efforts to remain sane include cutting back where we can, and just going with the flow but not the Ho Ho Ho.

Take care of yourself. Of course, we’ll all be pausing at 11 am in our respective time zones tomorrow to remember our veterans. I’ll be thinking of my dad who died this summer, and his immense pride in serving our country. He never saw conflict, thank God, but he was always ready, often gone from home, and we are grateful for his contributions to Canada’s safety and sovereignty, as we are for all the sacrifices of our veterans, active military personnel and their families. Love to them all.

Sisters Cindy and Heather, Ottawa 1963