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A beautiful and inexpensive place in North America where oceanfront and lakeside lots can be had for as little as $10,000 (or a charming 3-bedroom home on several acres can be yours for under $50,000). Sound like a dream? It’s not. This slice of Heaven does exist. Nestled in the North Atlantic on Canada’s east coast, Nova Scotia is a little-known paradise steeped in Scottish, Irish and English history. For the potential expatriate or retiree, Nova Scotia has a lot to offer…cheap real estate, a low cost of living, unspoiled natural environment, friendly people and lifestyle opportunities to suit virtually every taste. Coastal property prices are among the lowest in North America and with the local government rolling out the red carpet to newcomers, it has the potential to become North America’s next great retirement haven.

Nova Scotia has long been a favorite escape for savvy Canadians and Europeans, yet few Americans live or retire in this secretive outpost. Why? Well, perhaps it’s because Nova Scotia isn’t a destination you stumble across by accident. Almost completely surrounded by water, it lies hidden between the Atlantic Ocean, the Bay of Fundy, the Northumberland Strait, and the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

Canada’s second-smallest province (21,425 square miles), Nova Scotia is about half the size of Pennsylvania with a population of just under 1 million people. Its craggy 4,600-mile coastline is dotted with quaint fishing villages, lighthouses and working seaports. Over 3,800 islands lie off its shores (some are for sale); the largest being Cape Breton, which is nearly a quarter size of mainland Nova Scotia. Most of Nova Scotia’s population is concentrated along the coast. The largest city is the capital, Halifax, in which about 40% of the province’s population lives (much of the interior is heavily forested and sparsely populated). The area’s most famous part-time residents are Jack Nicholson, Demi Moore, Paul Simon, Billy Joel, Roger Moore, and Alan Arkin, all of whom have summer homes here.

Live the Good Life…stress free
Nova Scotia is one of those places that can seduce you through its sheer natural beauty. The seemingly endless stretches of picturesque coastline, a lush green countryside, the beautiful colors of autumn, and the friendliness of its people, make it one of the most livable places in North America. Nova Scotia has a bit of something for everyone: old-world European architecture, everything is close to the water, New England-style charm, great restaurants and leisure opportunities, and slow-paced towns that haven’t changed much since the 19th Century, where fishing and enjoying the outdoors is a way of life.

The climate is another plus. Summer temperatures range from the mid 60s to the low 80s, with the winters being much milder (with less snow) that you’d expect to see north of the border. Like the United States, Canada has a fully democratic system that respects individual rights and freedoms. In fact, Canada has some of the strictest personal and financial privacy laws in the world.

Compared with many places in the United States, Nova Scotia enjoys a low crime rate, with incidents of violent being remarkably low. Americans don’t need a visa to spend up to 180 days as a tourist in Canada and non-citizens may buy property without restrictions.

Live the good life on less than $25,000 a year.
Besides the fact that there’s no such thing as a rat race in Nova Scotia, you can legally enjoy perks that are forbidden at home (such as being able to smoke genuine Cuban cigars). Its biggest asset is its cost of living. You’ll pay $12 a month for cable TV and $28 a month for home telephone service (or use a public payphone for just 20

Tags: canada, Cape Breton Island, expatriate, Halifax, international living, Nova Scotia, travelcanada, Cape Breton Island, expatriate, Halifax, international living, Nova Scotia, travel

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When I was in college, in the prehistoric days, I was a veteran bus traveler. I am not talking about the city buses but the kind you would take from city “A” to city “B” three states apart.

You know the kind of which I speak. I am talking about the long-distance ones that smelled not unlike you were stepping into an ashtray on wheels. There was always the peculiar smell of cigarettes, beer, and that nursing home smell that you encountered when you went to visit your 900-year-old aunt.

The seats in those nastiness-on-wheels buses were positively nightmarish. I still dream about them. I think I suffer from (among many things) a post-traumatic bus-seat stress disorder. Those seats were little butt seats. I mean you had to have the butt of a 10-year-old dwarf child to sit comfortably in them! And, if you were lucky, there would be some duct tape covering the hole where someone smuggled drugs or where there was a spring ready to impale one of your butt cheeks.

The floors! My God, the floors! There was always something sticky covering the floors and they were a necrotic-tissue color–black. I am positive they contributed to the assortment of smells that wafted into your nostrils on entering the bus.
The bathrooms in those buses were virtually impossible to use. If you managed to drop your britches to use the toilet and sit down, you were assured of a skull fracture from being propelled off the thing as though someone suddenly jerked the toilet up and forward when the bus driver (probably drunk) accelerated.
Once, I had to take a bus from Clarksville, Arkansas, to York, Pennsylvania, for Christmas break. The trip, boring and tiring as it was, wasn’t that bad and we were making good time. I was going to have to spend three days, count them, three days traveling in a bus.

Well, somewhere in Tennessee, I think, the bus driver decided to stop somewhere in the middle of the night for a bite to eat. It was, as I said, in the middle of the night and while we all slept he took a little extra time to do God only knows what.
His little rest stop put us late getting into somewhere (I forget) which caused me to miss my connection. In addition, it was snowing, delaying the next bus I could have taken.
I had to spend two days in a bus station, with no hotel money, waiting for the worst snowstorm in the history of mankind to clear up so the appropriate bus could get there.

I called my parents and made them swear they would fly me back to Arkansas after Christmas should I survive this ordeal.
That was the last time I ever rode a bus in America.

Now come with me to Mexico: My wife and I went to Puerto Vallarta for Christmas, 2004. We took the ENT bus line. This thing was, and I swear to you, like the first-class section of the most expensive airline only magnified to the power of 1000.
As you got on, they served a lunch and drink. There was a galley for your tea or coffee pleasure. There were two bathrooms in that bus. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? The seats were big-butt seats, like on a first-class airline, and were actually comfortable to sleep in. There were private headphones for music or for watching the movie. You heard rightthe bus had video screens for a movie!

Get this: They insolated the bus walls because you could hear nothing from outside the bus.

Can you begin to fathom how a so-called third world country can offer this most astounding bus traveling experience while the United Statesdeveloped country?still offers (so I am told) basically the same torture that I suffered in the 70’s?

Doug Bower is a freelance writer and book author. His most recent writing credits include The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The Houston Chronicle, and The Philadelphia Inquirer, and Transitions Abroad. He lives with his wife in Guanajuato, Mexico.

His new book Mexican Living: Blogging it from a Third World Country can be seen at http://www.lulu.com/content/126241

Tags: blog, expatriate, expatriation, Guanajuato, mexican living, mexico, move to mexico, san miguel de allendeblog, expatriate, expatriation, Guanajuato, mexican living, mexico, move to mexico, san miguel de allende

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