Lessons Learned from Starting a “Commune” with 15 Friends in a Small Oaxacan Beach Town — Part 2 of 2

4 things I would do differently, and 4 things I would repeat, after over 4 years of grinding for the dream

If you missed Part 1 of this blog, start there!

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Even Rue girl made the design, which was created by Victoria, one of our founding community members.

Current day

As described in the backstory of Part 1, we got incredibly lucky with this property. It was the type of thing where I knew from day one that the “worst case scenario” of trying to pull this off is to sell for a profit down the road.

People could always sell individually, or maybe we would decide as a group to sell if things got too difficult. Either way, the assumption was that we would only ever lose time and energy, not money.

Right now, we’re going through the process of 4 of the original partners selling their lots because life has taken them further from Mexico, or because they have new projects, houses, or businesses that need funding.

We’re in the middle of our first major transitional period as a community. It’s a bit sad and a bit exciting.

This transitional period is what triggered me to write about my experience with El Campo 167. It’s caused me to reflect a lot on what I’ve learned, what I would do differently, and here in Part 2—what I would do again.

Four wins, or four things I would do again, the second time around

1. Jump at prime opportunities, trust your intuition, and then make a stupid slide deck

Knowing from the jump that we made the best possible land purchase imaginable made the pain of some of the early struggles and stresses (i.e., drunk gardeners, see Part 1) easier to swallow.

It made it easier to forge ahead, to push the project into a place where pride sat heavier on the scale than frustration.

From the beginning, our assumption about the worst-case scenario was that each lot owner would send around $500-600 in annual dues, potentially never visit or even think about the project, and the value of their lot would go up more than $600 that same year.

You can check out, and basically know that you’re investment is going up in value.

Here’s a shot I took through an airplane window that shows La Punta (The Point) and La Barra. All of the real estate in this photo, and either way you drive along the coast, is going up. Our property is about 30 minutes east down the coast from this area.

That assumption has turned out to be correct, as the four folks selling this year are all leaving with around a 20% profit on their overall investment (i.e., 5 years' worth of dues, plus their original investment, and then add 20%… that’s what they’re getting back.)

Actual rough numbers to be shared in the Insider info section of my Substack for my few paid subscribers.

This is only possible because the land was purchased at an incredible price, and because it’s right in the middle of the Oaxacan coast between Puerto Escondido and Mazunte, which is a stretch that we knew would increase in value.

With the new highway, bigger airport, and rapid growth around Puerto Escondido, the value has gone up even more than we optimistically guessed that it would.

One of the slides from the original deck, slightly altered to share the project with the new community members interested in buying these 4 available lots.

I could say “we got lucky,” but Maria and I knew from the start what we had with this piece of land. We were able to communicate that idea to some of our closest friends, using a very goofy slide deck we made with a lot of love. Once we had that group together and this incredible deal on a gorgeous piece of land, we were set up for success.

The land is a huge part of that, but also the people—the people make the project.

Zeke and Alinee’s wedding was the last major event that brought a lot of us together.

2. Do it with people you love and trust

The five years that I worked as the Director of Community for Remote Year will always be one of the best chapters of my life. I was getting paid to travel and build community — two things I love deeply. On top of being a dream job, Remote Year was a dream team.

I was fortunate to be hired in 2015 as one of the first 10 employees, and I met some of the best people in the world during that next stretch of my life. The company disbanded back in the Pandemic, was bought and brought back to life by Selina for a bit, but then after Selina went bankrupt, Remote Year was bought and scrapped for parts. It no longer exists. #quetriste

However, that early pre-pandemic team that built the company is still super close. We live all over the map, but see each other as often as possible. Our WhatsApp chat is lit (fire emoji).

Recently, a lot of us were together at Zeke and Alinee’s wedding outside of Oaxaca City. Zeke was also an early Remote Year hire and is one of the founding partners of El Campo 167.

Here are a few more average iPhone photos of an incredible wedding.

Having a group of friends that you can count on, that you love, that you want to work hard for, is one of the most important things to get right if you want to pursue a project like this with a million unknowns.

The one thing you can be certain of is that there will be challenges, and navigating challenges with a team of people you love and respect ensures that the outcome will be fine, no matter what happens.

Often, the outcome is amazing, like when my brother brought an insane toilet seat to Oaxaca from the US because I mentioned once that I wanted a cheesy one with shells and nautical trinkets melted inside of it like you’d find at an old lady’s beach house.

It’s not this exact one, but it’s a lot like this. My brother only brought a carry-on for that trip, and the TSA agent had a few questions about why a toilet seat was occupying nearly half his bag.

While working at Remote Year, Trish was my boss (shown above, with a drink on her head). During Remote Year, she was VP of Experience and the boss of several of the folks who eventually started El Campo 167. The “let's start a commune” joke originated with her, so of course, she’s a founding member.

As someone who reported to Trish, I distinctly remember this feeling of not wanting to let her down. It wasn’t because I was scared to let her down; rather, it was because I really wanted to make her proud. She was an incredible boss.

That’s the exact same feeling I have now, working on behalf of our entire community. I want to make my friends proud, and I’m glad I make $15 an hour for the effort, but it’s not the reason I spend my Saturday afternoon fixing the well cover or cleaning the bodega.

It’s because I love these people and I want to do right by them.

This guy and my dogs are always there with me in El Puertecito, but they offer little in terms of physical labor. A year ago, I found this sculpture along the river in El Puertecito, and I love it.

3. Someone will likely need to be the point of the spear, so know who that person is and make sure they’re up to the task

After finding the land, after calling and messaging some of our favorite people to buy into this vision, after making the goofy slide deck, after sharing the bank info and collecting enough money, after paying and signing the act of possession, we were so excited.

I was so excited that I remember thinking that some of the community members might relocate closer to the place. No one said that, I’m just an optimist by nature.

I was certain everyone would visit a few times a year. I was also sure we would have at least one annual meet-up where the majority of the partners would come to spend time together at the place… that would be the time where we would catch fish and cook on the stove (see part 1).

That would be where the inside jokes, traditions, and collective history of the space came from. That would be the weekend when a hilarious conversation around the campfire would lead to a brilliant name for the project.

July 2022, when Jason came down to help with the first big gardening effort. We put in two mature palms and three other main garden areas. I thought weekends like this with different project partners would be frequent, but… life get’s in the way I suppose.

None of those things happened.

I made an effort for 3 straight years to manufacture a “high season” for our patch of paradise. I sent out a Google form to try and see what month people had the most availability.

I wasn’t able to manifest it.

We’ve certainly had people visit, especially Jason (see above, holding a coconut we got from one of our very own palm trees… what a feeling!), who comes down from Mexico City a few times a year.

I don’t want it to sound like I’ve been alone at it for the entire 5 years, but I’ve certainly been way more alone with the project (and my dogs) than I originally imagined.

After Zeke’s wedding, we had a really fun crew of 7 people stay the night out in El Puertecito.

Thank you for your sacrafice.

We caught a lobster with a spear gun, opened it with a machete, and cooked it on the open fire. We made some great inside jokes that night. Jokes you wouldn’t get because you weren’t there.

The lobster’s name was Alfredito. He was delicious.

I just imagined some version of that lobster scene would happen a few times a year, but… no.

I’ve come to terms with the reality and rhythms of El Campo 167, and I’ll relish those special gatherings whenever they do happen.

Ultimately, even the name itself wasn’t born from some hilarious inside joke; it was born of necessity. It wasn’t fun to call it “the project” or “El Puertecito,” so after a few years, we took the mile marker and slapped El Campo in front of it. El Campo 167… it sounds official. It’s at least something to paint on a sign.

More than anything, I’ve had to come to peace with being the point of the spear, and the reality that being the point of any spear can be a bit lonely at times. The majority of trips I make to El Campo 167, I’m alone with Rue and Torta.

I enjoy the solitude and nature. I enjoy working hard for this group of people I love. I really do appreciate the “Good job, Trav” messages. It just took me around 2 years to accept what a less optimistic person might have known from day 1…

More shots from Alfreditos big night out!

*A project like this needs to have someone to lead the charge—that job is often lonely, and that job is yours! You’re the one who called your friends and made the slide deck after all…*

The phrase “point of the spear” came from a conversation I had with my mate, Nico, one night. Nico started New Ruins, an amazing project about an hour West of Puerto Escondido.

He said, “Someone needs to be the point of the spear,” as we were commiserating about our various challenges. It helped me to just accept the responsibility, and to be grateful I had people helping to hold the spear.

I really like the visual nature of the expression. As I push hard to continually improve things, I want to look back and feel 11 other sets of sturdy hands also pushing forward.

PUSHHH!!! Photo by Nejc Soklič on Unsplash

That push can take different forms, like coming down to help with work projects, carrying toilet seats through customs, supporting the project by sending your annual dues on time, or even sending a sincere “Good job!” message when you see sweat being spilled for the cause!

Note: Now that we’re adding four new community members to the project, fresh blood that either lives in Puerto Escondido or spends apart of the year here, I imagine that going forward I’ll have more help on the ground. I likely wouldn’t have dared to start this with a different group of people, but now that some are leaving it feels obvious to invite great humans who are closer to the land to consider joining our little fracionimento (sub-division). If I write an update in a year, I’m guessing things will feel a bit different. Basically, if you’re starting a project like this from the beginning and can have more locally-based members, I think that’s a huge plus.

4. Hands-on and cheaper, or hands off and more expensive?

As the point of the spear, as well as the holder of the group pot, I feel a deep responsibility to use the group's money wisely.

When our machine room flooded and the pool pump broke, I felt awful having to relay that information to the group (try to make sure your pool’s machine room won’t flood in a heavy storm). When we calculate expenses and then do some basic math before asking the group to send over their yearly dues, I hate that part of my role.

I don’t like asking for money, but it’s a necessary part of a project like this.

Whenever we do ask for money, I always want it to be less than it probably should be, and need Maria’s voice of reason to say “Trav, let’s just call it $600 each, instead of $500, which will likely run out in October… It’s better if the money spills into next year instead of running out two months early.”

I like to do things for the project to keep expenses lower.

I collect and scavenge useful things for the property.

A lot of the furniture I built myself out of repurposed wood.

We found our refrigerator on sale through a Facebook group.

I constructed the pallet couches in the lounge.

I built the compost toilet shed in the back.

I built the well cover.

I built the new machine room cover.

My friend Ryan and I put up an enramada above the cement slab where the glamping tent used to live. (See photo above… thanks again, mate!)

A hodge podge of things that I built for the project to help save costs.

In this project, as with all projects, you’ll have dozens of decisions to make that are essentially “do it the hard way for less, or the easy way for more.”

The first giant example of this for our project was the initial build of the common kitchen, lounge, bodega, and bathroom. We decided to go with a local architect and builder named Rafa, who constructed in a simple yet beautiful way.

He would communicate with a foreman at the job site out in El Puertecito, in hopes that his crew would understand the blueprints and execute them well. He was in charge of the build, but wasn’t always there.

Often, his team did not understand the blueprints.

One day, when I went to visit to make sure the construction was going well, I found a random wall being built that separated the kitchen from the lounge. We wanted an open-floor-plan feeling to the space. We wanted to be able to get off the couch and walk directly to the sink.

I called Rafa and said, “They’re building a wall that shouldn’t be here.” He apologized and corrected the mistake.

We’re even on Google Maps now! You can see the pool and tent from SPACEEEEEE!

One day, I went out and found a 5x5 meter cement slab already poured where I was planning to build a wooden deck. I called Rafa, who apologized and told me that we wouldn’t have to pay for that cement because he knew it was a mistake.

We had discussed this wooden deck and my plans to build it myself many times. On the blue print it was just a square, and I guess the workers said, “FUCK IT, LETS POUR SOME CEMENT!”

Ultimately, Rafa and his guys did a great job building nice things at a low cost, but I felt like I had to be there to check in on it all constantly during those few months. We could have certainly paid someone more, who we would have had to oversee less. I’m glad we went the cheaper but more involved route.

From the first ever pool party, a few months before the tent was destroyed.

The same thing happened with our pool. After getting four different quotes, we decided to go with the cheapest. We found one option — working with my friend Osab — that was over $5,000 cheaper than the other quotes we received.

Had we gone with super professional pool builders and just raised more money from the group for that, it would have been easier. I’m glad we went with the more hands-on approach, which resulted in a gorgeous pool, a handful of sweaty afternoons out at the job site helping, and a lot of money saved among the partners.

The most common pool party that takes place.

Being willing to put in time and sweat equity will always lower the overall project costs, but if you’re doing a lot of work alone, it can also lead to burnout. Finding the balance between those two competing factors has taken me the better part of 5 years to figure out, but I think I’ve finally found the right rhythm.

Now, that cement platform where the tent was has a nice shady enramada above it (see photo above), and is a multi-purpose space that can be used for yoga or as a dance floor. It’s a better use of space.

I don’t really trust myself with this thing, so I’m glad Ryan knows what he’s doing.

Final Thoughts

Has it been hard? Yes.

Has it been stressful? Yes.

Has my truck broken down in El Puertecito? Yes, several times.

Have I gotten stung by a scorpion? Yes.

Have I had to chase a possum from the bathroom? Yes.

Would I do it all again? FUCK YES.

I’m incredibly proud of our shared project in El Puertecito, and I’m incredibly grateful to this group of founders and dear friends for seeing the potential and for taking our goofy slide deck seriously.

We’ve managed to do something that most close groups of friends talk about after a few mezcals, but never actually act on. I’m glad we’re the type of people who don’t see the world as a bunch of gears and cogs that we have to fit into, but rather, a place where we can dig our hands in like wet clay.

A place where the rules are suggestions. Where we squint suspiciously at the blueprint-for-adult-life that our parents handed us, while holding it upside down… no, no, no, I don’t agree with this, we think.

We decided to do something hard, something a bit scary. But I’m so damn glad we did.

Thanks for reading. I hope this helps inspire and inform you if you have a similar dream.

You’re all welcome to the next pool party at El Campo 167.

Because it’s tradition…

One of my favorite traditions in El Puertecito is making everyone answer this simple question…

Is this poster at our local tienda Jennifer Lopez or Angelina Jolie? I’ve polled over 50 people at this point and the answers are very mixed. Please let us know what you think in the comments.

Finally, just for chucks and gigs…

Finding the RY group shot from the wedding proved difficult, but in the process, Zeke sent me these ridiculous photos. I was having the best time, in the weirdest shoes… and then flipflops (because my shoes exploded on the dance floor)… and then I lost a big toenail.

Yeah, my toe nail had friggin’ chance that night, jajaja.

That toenail turned black, and a few weeks later, it fell off while I was working the land one afternoon in El Puertecito.

Wow, what a full circle way to wrap this up.

Gone, but not forgotten.

If you enjoyed this, you should probably read my 5-star travel memoir, Not That Anyone Asked.

Subscribe to my Substack, Sobre Puerto Escondido, for more about my life on the Oaxacan Coast.

Learn about my travel memoir, music (Big Stretch EP out now and streaming everywhere), podcast appearances, and more at my website, www.traviswking.com