Barry Robbins and Jane Walker wake up every morning in a paradise 1,300 metres above sea level. In the hills of Panama, surrounded by coffee plants, orange trees and dense rainforest, the former British Columbians have spent the past decade tending to the needs of their plantation – and to those of visitors to this picturesque setting who pay $130 a night to stay at their high-end Coffee Estate Inn.
For 10 years, this life was but a dream. Most people let that common get-away-from-it-all dream stew much longer than that and never act on it. They might feel a tug while on a tropical all-inclusive holiday, but the reality of the displacement, hard work and cultural challenges causes the dream to fade faster than the margarita memories. For Walker and Robbins, the dream refused to wane.
They’d debate it on their weekend escapes to Cortes Island, B.C., and dreamily envision it while on longer vacations in Costa Rica. “What if we ditched the rat race, the 12-hour days and the six-day work weeks, and never went home?” Robbins remembers asking Walker.
In 1994, the recipe for change was at hand. Robbins, 46, suspected he was about to be downsized out of his job as a research officer for the Greater Vancouver Regional District. Coincidentally, 45-year-old Walker was then working as a consultant in personnel efficiencies, suggesting to organizations very much like her husband’s that they should be cutting employees like him loose.
The couple decided relocating to Cortes Island would be a good change of pace. To ease the transition, they sold their heritage home on 5th Street in New Westminster and rented a small condo in Westminster Quay. “We just wanted to take a year and refuel,” Walker recalls fondly. They had little holding them to Vancouver (no kids, no jobs, no homeowners’ responsibilities) and departed for Central America with packs on their backs and no particular travel plans.
When Robbins and Walker were passing through Belize, the owner of an inn suggested to the couple there was a real need for inn-sitters, as inn-keepers were rarely able to take a vacation. In Costa Rica, Walker and Robbins followed her advice and placed an ad in a local paper, promptly landing themselves a six-week stint managing a small vacation property. It was a short stay, but it satisfied their curiosity about running a business and, as Walker recalls, “It was a confirmation that running an inn is mostly about managing expectations and delivering what you say you can deliver – and more.”
The couple discovered they had what it took: “We are ser¬vice oriented, organized, well trained in business and we have good marketing and social skills. We cook well and Barry can read the manual on anything and fix it,” says Walker.
After meeting two British travellers who regaled them with enticing stories of a recent visit to Panama, Robbins and Walker determined to make it the next destination on their Central American tour. The country lived up to its glowing recommendation: the beaches stretched out into the Caribbean, and the crown-like mountains looked down over lush jungles where flocks of coloured birds chattered. The people were welcoming and warm and were eager to forge a new national identity just five years after the fall of General Manuel Noriega. A year after setting out on their journey, Walker and Robbins found themselves in the mountainous Boquete region and knew they were home. They had no business plan, no market testing, no proof of success, just an old-fashioned gut feeling that this was where they would build a new life and business.
They shelved the Cortes Island plan and, in the hills above the village of Jaramillo Arriba, rented a small cabin from a family of landowners. On inspecting the hillside property, they found mature coffee plants, healthy orange trees and a small forest. For $250,000, they bought the land and built the home and three guest bungalows now known as the Coffee Estate Inn. The locals called them the crazy Canadians building on the side of a mountain, but they worked quickly and opened their doors in 1996.
The venture generated revenue fairly quickly. Word spread that their high-end accommodations provided a cool respite some 1,300 metres above sea level. In the beginning, the clientele was made up mostly of locals on spur-of-the-moment trips from David, the closest city, and Panama City (a six-hour drive away), enjoying newly unobstructed access to the region. As the inn began receiving positive write-ups in South American travel guides and on tourist websites, its clientele evolved. Today, about 90 per cent of the inn’s guests are foreigners who book well in advance.
Walker and Robbins reinvest most of their profits into their meticulously manicured gardens and have started a few side businesses. Over the decade, they have moved from selling their coffee beans as ripe fruit to having it milled and stored locally until they are ready to roast it in a small machine in their kitchen. They now sell 1,800 kilograms of premium java annually. Their most recent venture is a coffee liqueur called Barubica – “baru” after the volcano that shades their farm, and “arabica” for the variety of coffee – which was formerly limited to a post-dinner treat for guests. In this, their inaugural year, they expect to produce 400 to 500 bottles of the concoction, created from a recipe closely held by Robbins. A decade after arriving in Panama, these B.C. transplants are as deeply rooted on this hillside as they once were on the slopes of New Westminster. And the weather is nicer.
Walker and Robbins are not alone in their quest to drop the nine-to-five and follow the dream to run a resort in paradise.
Escapeartist.com a website for those wanting to restart their lives overseas, claims to have more than 350,000 North American subscribers to its newsletter. The classified section provides concrete numbers for dreamers: a B & B in Chihuahua, Mexico, is listed for US$80,000, while a vineyard in Australia is going for close to US$1.8 million. The Caribbean seems to be a popular location, with more than a dozen listings of inns or hotels for sale. Compared to Vancouver’s real-estate market – a resort on 30 hectares of rainforest in Costa Rica costs less than a fixer-upper in Vancouver’s West Side – these overseas properties look very tempting.
As attractive as the prospect of escaping to a new land might seem, for every success story, there are also some tough lessons learned along the way. One example: Robbins’s and Walker’s early enthusiasm meant that they overpaid for their idyllic piece of paradise. They refer to it as the “gringo price,” or the asking price given to any North American, which, at the time, was about twice as much as a local resident would have paid. To them, however, it was still a good deal and one of the easier pills to swallow as they set up business in Panama.
For former Victoria residents Sandra Neumann and her husband Andrew Vlassie, starting a restaurant in Bucerias, Mexico, hasn’t been any easier. The couple were regular visitors from Victoria to Bucerias, just north of Puerto Vallarta, for years. Vlassie’s parents had vacationed there since the 1980s, and he and Neumann often discussed the possibility of relocating to this small fishing village. Their resumés were filled with various positions in the tourism and food-services industries. Like many tourist-driven businesses, the espresso cart they ran in Victoria was only functional during the summer, which left them a perfect opportunity to start a seasonal business in Mexico.
It was 2001, and tourists were just starting to crave an Internet fix as much as their caffeine. The couple saw their chance and opened a Web café in Bucerias. Unfortunately, several other entrepreneurs had the same idea at the same time but chose locations closer to the tourist centre, a natural gathering spot for visitors.
[pagebreak]
With minimal computer expertise, Vlassie and Neumann found themselves spending their meagre profits from the café on keeping their equipment running and maintaining the unreliable Internet connection. Every time an issue arose with the computers, they had to call someone in; their profits subsequently walked out the door with the neighbourhood techie. Meanwhile, their pastries and refreshments sold very well. After three years, they wisely dropped the Internet service and expanded their food services. The pastries quickly led to light meals, which evolved into a full lunch and dinner menu. Today the fare at the restaurant, which they named Sandrina’s, is a blend of Mediterranean specialties inspired by Andrew’s Greek heritage. The dining room is open from 3:00 to 10:30 p.m., and patrons can linger by the large-screen satellite TV or lounge in the alfresco courtyard, where they might find a Spanish guitarist or an impromptu crafts market featuring local artists.
As the restaurant grows in reputation, Vlassie and Neumann are finally seeing repeat customers among their North American clientele, in addition to first-timers who arrive on the recommendation of friends.
Many entrepreneurs whom Neumann has seen come and go “mistakenly think it must be easier to operate a restaurant here in Mexico,” she says. But she knows that’s not the case, and she has learned her local business lessons in surprising ways. She offers prospective employees a very good hourly wage, for example – comparable to what she would pay in Canada. But to her amazement, job applicants were not interested. She quickly discovered that villagers prefer to be employed full-time, even if it means less money per hour, because there is pride and security in having a regular job.
Before she left Canada, Neumann struggled through the mountain of paperwork required by the Mexican government to open a business. She describes it as “a very long and trying ordeal.” Struggling with the language was one barrier, but she is now fluent in Spanish. “I’m quite sure if we had known the difficulties we would encounter, we probably would not have gone forward with our idea to open a business here,” she notes. Things can take longer than you expected; as Neumann explains, “Mañana is sometimes mañana, mañana.”
Back in Panama, Walker and Robbins also struggled to deal with the local bureaucracy. As it happened, they submitted their paperwork for a new tourism enterprise to the Panamanian government at the same time as another expat couple with a resort off the Caribbean coast in the tourist hotspot of Bocas del Toro.
Walker and Robbins walked the forms from ministry to ministry, personally ensuring that each page was signed correctly. The other couple hired a local lawyer and sat back. The other couple’s resort never got off the ground.
Cultural disconnects can dramatically affect business. As Walker explains, “Panamanians frequently are unwilling to tell you what they think you don’t want to hear. We were misled in understanding the true cost of construction. Building costs were understated by 50 per cent.”
In another instance, Robbins booked a bungalow for two guests (the resort is marketed as a private, tranquil environment for couples) who turned up with a group of party-loving friends and family members. They insisted on playing their music at all hours of the night, oblivious to the disturbance they were causing for other guests. Walker has come to accept this as a typical Panamanian trait, something she calls the “me-only” perspective, and has adjusted the inn’s regulations accordingly. Many of their policies have been sparked by observing visitor behaviour.
Panamanians, it turns out, are highly social. After erecting a “Private Property” sign to dissuade unexpected visitors, then stringing a chain across the entrance, Walker and Robbins eventually installed an electric gate operated by a pass card given to registered guests only. Non-registered guests must now report to the front office and leave the grounds by 10 p.m.
It took Vlassie and Neumann a few years to prove to the Mexican locals that they were worthy of their patronage. So many foreign entrepreneurs had swarmed into town with an air of superiority, demanding that business be conducted in English, that the locals had grown leery of any gringo venture. But the Victoria couple stuck with it, proving their intent to integrate into Mexican culture.
Their hope within the next five years is to have the business sustain itself year-round, not just for five months at a stretch. They say their real success has been managing Sandrina’s during the winter months and living in Victoria the other half of the year. They enjoy the best of the weather and maintain their Canadian residency with all of its benefits, enjoying a perfect balance.
Walker and Robbins have spent time delving beneath the image Panama presents to tourists to discover the country’s true culture. They have accepted the way things are in Panama. Unlike many newcomers, they no longer complain that it’s not like home. Not that they have much to complain about; the Coffee Estate Inn has four full-time employees and accommodates 300-plus guests each year. The three cabins are booked as far as six months in advance. Altogether, their resort and coffee-related businesses bring in approximately $90,000 a year, which, after deducting the four staff salaries, overhead, their own living expenses and income, leaves the inn with an approximate 10-per-cent profit margin. The profit is earmarked for their expansion plans. They are currently building another guest bungalow and an addition to the main house for Walker’s mother who will be moving in with them this summer. Panama has become Robbins’s and Walker’s home, and, although they still work 12-hour days, you couldn’t coax them back to the rat race for all the cheese in the world.
Bruce Foerster, 49, has found that he can now budget as little as two weeks out of every two months to oversee his piece of paradise. He has never meant his property, the 48-room Jaguar Reef Lodge in southern Belize, to be his home. Initially he spent most of his time in Belize, but now it is for him what it is for guests: a great place to visit. He’s able to do most of the work from his home in Victoria. He’s proven that running a business in paradise doesn’t have to be a full lifestyle commitment, but, as he discovered, it does require sacrifice.
In the early 1990s, Foerster was a securities salesperson with an investment firm in Vancouver. He had all the trappings of success and decided a little piece of beach would be a nice addition. He travelled to the Caribbean to find the perfect place to build a vacation home but, after some island-hopping, found himself less than impressed by the options. He made his way to Belize, primarily because of its world-class diving and reasonable real-estate prices.
Standing on the sandy beach, sandwiched between sparkling Caribbean waters blanketing a rich barrier reef and a lush rainforest, he grew giddy with anticipation. One parcel of land on the beach was priced at $32,000. Foerster ended up buying 22 lots. “I originally intended it to be a small Palapas-style resort of the two- or three-star category,” he explains. Then a developer approached him about a larger property in the same area, one that came with plans for a guest lodge. Foerster sold his initial lots and his client list back home, along with most of what he owned, to invest $1 million in building Jaguar Reef as per the developer’s plans.
[pagebreak]
There are advantages and disadvantages to its remote location, about a 40-minute drive south of Dangriga near the Guatemalan border, and Foerster quickly learned that giving visitors things to do would keep them there longer. He began offering trips to nearby historic sites, including Mayan ruins and a traditional Garifuna village at Sittee River. He worked with local guides to provide a variety of eco-adventures including snorkel¬ling and diving on the barrier reef, caving, rainforest hiking and sea kayaking. As guests began arriving and staying longer, the demand grew.
He realized that he needed to expand. He explains the gradual growth: “We started with 14 rooms in 1994 and today have 42 rooms.” They have also added two swimming pools, a spa and a helicopter pad. But to get to this point, he had to set aside any notion of a timeline, accepting that things would happen when they happened. He theorizes that the “Belizean people do not place much value on ‘tomorrow.’ They will do what is necessary to get through the day with no thought whatsoever for a tomorrow which perhaps may never come.”
He’s become accustomed to the work ethic and the inevitable delays and insatiably pushes the growth of the resort forward. He has continued to acquire more land and plans to build an environmentally friendly nine-hole executive golf course. The all-inclusive adventure resort can accommodate 120 guests at a time and averages 80-per-cent capacity. A vacation here, including meals and activities, ranges from $1,600 to $1,875 a week per person, depending on the season and the choice of accommodation (cabana on the beach or a room in the lodge).
Foerster has reached his goal of creating a year-round resort catering to a varied clientele that includes everyone from eco-adventurers to honeymooners, and says he intends to consider an exit strategy. For those who’ve ever dreamt of tropical entrepreneurialism, this may be a surprising concept: selling a successful business in paradise. Doesn’t the dream end with a slow retirement under a palm tree?
Andrew Vlassie and Sandra Neumann, the couple from Victoria, look forward to a long future in Mexico, although at this point they can’t say if they will ever do it full-time or if they will continue to be snowbirds, dividing their time between Victoria and Bucerias.
Walker and Robbins certainly intend to see out their days in Panama. In fact, Robbins’s mother will be joining them soon in her retirement. After 10 years of living in the country, they will be applying for their Panamanian citizenship this year. They expect that at some point they will run out of energy to run the Coffee Estate Inn, but not anytime soon.
And while they prepare for a retirement at their mountainside estate, Walker and Robbins are concerned about a new trend that has many people flocking to Panama in the last five years. “The quality of life for local Panamanians and long-term foreign residents has been severely compromised by an unmanaged influx of retirees, many with unrealistic expectations,” observes Walker. “As well, we now have land speculators and other assorted undesirables including pedophiles, rapists, extortionists and pre-Columbian art thieves. These people have no intention or desire to ever integrate into the local culture.”
Whether it’s Belize, Mexico or Panama, these expats concede that starting a business in paradise is not that different from starting one anywhere else; it will cost more and require more effort and time than expected, and along the way you’ll encounter people who may hurt you more than they help. And don’t expect daily life to resemble life back in B.C.
Our B.C. expats share some tips for others planning to follow their dreams. Before you buy, spend a few months living in your destination. Shop for groceries, drive the roads, do your laundry, go to the bank, hire a repairman, get to know the local services. If you still love the place despite all its inconveniences and frustrations, then make the move.
Sandra Neumann has found that work is work. “Just like in Canada, you have days where you just want to go home, watch TV and crash. The beach may as well not exist.” She’s seen expat entrepreneurs come and go, most of whom expected their new lives to be a working holiday. They don’t do their homework or think their plans through, and, as a result, they pull up stakes in no time.
Building and running a business in the tropics can take a serious personal toll. Foerster had a wife and baby when he started his venture at the age of 33. He recalls, “The marriage failed after a couple of years, primarily because I was away so often in Belize trying to build the resort.” He didn’t want to make that mistake a second time. He believes it has all come down to finding trustworthy management. At one point, he worried that he would have to take up residence at the resort, leaving his new wife and kids back in B.C. A disquieting thought, considering what happened to his previous marriage. Luckily, he did find a manager who put his mind at ease, and he is able to fly down every six weeks to oversee management of the project, doing the rest from home.
Walker and Robbins now feel like they have escaped the “fuzzy and cozy cocoon” that was life in Canada, even if they do miss the sushi on Granville Island and rarely get a day off. They’ve come to accept that being Panamanian means letting things slide, because expectations and complaining will get you nowhere.
Caveats aside, these B.C. entrepreneurs are all happy with the progress of their businesses: Foerster opening up the natural beauty of Belize to the world, Neumann and Vlassie bringing their Greek cuisine to the Mexican Riviera and Robbins and Walker sharing the Panamanian mountain experience with visitors from near and far. And they’ve all had a positive impact on the local economy.
Sandrina’s is one of the reasons visitors to the more popular destination of Puerto Vallarta actually leave and make the drive to the fishing village of Bucerias. Robbins and Walker were the first to introduce tourism to the area of Boquete (now a popular stop that gets a “must-see” rating in the Moon travel guide). They sell local handicrafts from the Ngobe-Bugle Aboriginal tribe at fair-trade prices right in the lobby of the Coffee Estate Inn. Jaguar Reef is the biggest employer in the two closest villages of Sittee River and Hopkins. Foerster donates a percentage of his profits to the Sea Shepherd Society, explaining that protecting the country’s barrier reefs “is in our interest, since we make the most income from our adventure tours.”
Other Canadians covet the lifestyles, but few will actually pursue the “live and work in paradise” idea dreamt up on a beach at sunset or over a few too many margaritas. Most will be cured by the comforts of home and the security of a regular paycheque. Those who can’t seem to shake it should consider the impact their plans will have on the local economy and ask if they are fully prepared to adopt a new lifestyle. Becoming a business owner in paradise requires more than just hanging your shingle in the sun.
