New in La Paz: Embracing the Beginner’s Mindset

When I first started spending time here, it was easy to think the city ended at the malecón and the marina. I’d walk the waterfront, grab tacos near the pier, and figure that was the whole story. But trip by trip, the edges expanded. I started seeing the neighborhoods climbing into the hills, the glow of roadside stands at dusk, the warmth and honest enjoyment of life in people who know every curve of the bay. This wasn’t going to be a place I could just visit anymore, and I began to plan my move.

Me X Octopus circa 2020

After a few restarts in the warm, sunny edges of the world, I’ve learned that the key isn’t confidence, it’s curiosity. That’s gotten easier since I adopted a Beginner’s Mindset - a way of starting over that keeps every new place, and every mistake, a lesson worth keeping.

Settling into a city that runs at a different rhythm asks for humility. You listen more. You watch before you decide. You try to understand the story already unfolding around you before you start writing yourself into it.

Think of your move like learning a new recipe. If you’re like me, you’ll follow it precisely the first time or two, then start adding and swapping ingredients once you understand how it works. Right now, as a newbie, I’m still learning the recipe, the pace, and the story, and I’ve been here a while. It’s not daunting; it’s exciting.

That’s what I mean by a Beginner’s Mindset. It’s not pretending to know less; it’s choosing to learn more. Every day here teaches me something, whether I meant to learn it or not. And don’t feel bad if you’ve never heard of this. My partner, Noelle, gave me a name for it. I’d been bungling along doing it for a while without knowing it was a real concept. And now you know too. Beginner’s Mindset: Activated!

Respect and Curiosity

Relocating to a new home in Baja means learning its rhythms and finding the cadence of how things get done so you can move with it, not against it.

I come from hospitality and the restaurant business, where fast, to-the-point communication is the norm. So when I got here, I carried that pace with me. One morning, my contractor and now friend, Edmundo, stopped me mid-sentence. Smile on his face, hands on my arms, he said, “Hey, buenos días, ¿cómo estás, cómo amaneciste?” He slowed me down before I could launch into a complaint about the door knobs his team had just installed. I was embarrassed, humbled, and honestly grateful for the reminder that relationships come before business here. Beginner’s Mindset: Choosing to learn more.

You don’t have to apologize for moving here, but you do need to participate with respect. That might look like shopping local, being patient when things move slower, or asking questions instead of assuming.

In my livings here and there, I’ve also come to find that presumptions carry weight. If you walk into an interaction expecting tension, you’ll usually feel it. But start with openness, assume the best, and the world tends to meet you halfway. That kind of attitude breaks down walls and brings small rewards you’d never stumble on if you showed up guarded.

Swimming with Whales on another trip in the early O´s

Migration Into Baja: A Shared Story

I’m hardly alone in this move. Plenty of Mexicans from other states have been heading to Baja California Sur in recent years. The population here grew about twenty-five percent between 2010 and 2020, climbing to roughly 800,000 residents. Many newcomers come from Guerrero, Veracruz, and Chiapas, drawn by jobs, safety, and quality of life.

Foreigners like me and you have been part of that story too. Official data shows a few thousand newcomers from the U.S. and Canada establishing residency here over the same decade, along with smaller but steady numbers from across Europe. It’s not a flood, although it can sometimes feel like it, especially at Pickleball, but its still more of a quiet tide, and it mirrors a broader pattern across Mexico, where more than 1.2 million foreign-born residents were living with residency by 2020. The pull is familiar: sunlight, safety, and a better lifestyle that is irresistible.

It helps to remember that many here are arriving from somewhere, each of us chasing something similar, for some that might be a better job or place to raise a family, for you and I, a life with more space, a slower pace, a chance to reset our goals.

Why Here, Why Now

It wasn’t just the doves and chittering small green parrots on quiet mornings, or the sunset ball throws into the orange sky that convinced me to stay. It was the balance. A city small enough to feel personal, yet big enough to keep you curious.

La Paz is the kind of place where you can swim before breakfast, grab a cup from one of the many small-batch cafés and roasters that take coffee seriously, and still chase opportunity if you’re willing to work for it.

My favorite stop is Paradiso Bakery, tucked right in town. The coffee’s smooth, the almond croissants are ridiculous, and the morning crowd feels like a mix of locals, artists, and people quietly figuring out their next chapter. You can order a perfect cortado and find a table among the bustle, unfold the map of your day, open a book. You and I sit down to have a conversation and plot out your next move. Sit out on the sidewalk with my dog Moby, and yours maybe, and you’ll meet a dozen passersby and their dogs, smiling and talking breeds. If you didn’t know, Mexicans love their pets (and yours!).

By mid-morning, the city hums with purpose. Fishing boats head out, government offices fill, and sidewalk cafés and deliveries dip in and out of shops alongside real estate, construction, and a growing creative class. A lively city where people still say good afternoon (buenos tardes) when passing one another on the sidewalk.

The Long Afternoon: Or, Have You Noticed That Paceños Say “Buenos Tardes!” Basically Until Bedtime?

Remember when I talked about recipes and Beginner’s Mindset? When I first got here, I was racing around trying to get things accomplished. It was the hottest couple months of the year, and things seemed stagnate and I got frustrated. Where was everyone? Exasperated, thirsty, I pulled over for lunch. Toro Guero, a palapa not far from the center of town, was brimming over with locals, to capacity on a random Wednesday. A seemingly impossible number of grizzled mariachis climbed from an older Lincoln Continental with a stand-up bass lashed to the roof and filed in to play.

I sat down, relaxed, and learned the recipe.

Now I know to take a siesta. I find Noelle and Moby (who both happen to work from home), we make lunch, have a social-media nap in the hammock, send emails, and write things like this in the shade of my patio breezeway, still wet from a dip in the pool. Connect. Disconnect. Because I know my boss might read this, I promise that I usually meet with colleagues to discuss real estate, houses we’re interested in, and almost never the best place to find music this weekend. And never, never a couple of beers.

Maybe we make dinner plans with friends. Last night it was sushi with friends I met at coffee, Canadians who have a place in El Centenario. They’ve invited us to the club to play pickleball later this week.

Maybe I run to Chedraui, the store that makes Target look anemic, to pick up things for dinner at home, mixing in the tamales I got from the woman who posts up in the evenings with drums full of Michelin-star fever-dream delights I heard about from a local friend (while discussing houses) and the herbs and fresh cilantro I’ve got growing in pots on my porch.

Noelle and I have found more time to be together here. Yesterday we hiked up over the city to watch the sunset. Twice this week we’ve walked along the malecón with the rest of the city. Evening exercise and time spent with the people you love is one of La Paz’s most sneaky gifts.

Noelle at that golden hour of day

That’s the real recipe: respect, patience, and a little courage to keep tasting as you go.

Come Visit and Find Your Own Recipe

In the end, this place has worked its way into me. Mornings begin with the smell of good coffee and evenings fade into salt air and laughter. It rewards anyone willing to show up with a Beginner’s Mindset. Come to things curious, patient, open to a little trial and error.

So, if you ever find yourself wondering what life could look like on this side of the Sea of Cortez, hit me up or better yet, come visit. We’ll start the day with coffee at Paradiso, talk about what you’re dreaming of, and maybe sketch out your own version of the recipe. La Paz will do the rest.