Mexico has long been a magnet for American and Canadian retirees seeking a warmer climate and lower cost of living. In fact, by 2022 an estimated 1.6 million U.S. citizens were residing in Mexico – about half of them retirees. Drawn by affordable healthcare, cheaper housing, and a rich cultural lifestyle, Baby Boomers and even younger remote workers have been flocking south of the border in record numbers. But this influx of foreign residents has sparked a heated debate on the ground in Mexico: Are these foreigners contributing to gentrification and the displacement of locals?
Over the past few years, locals in destinations from Mexico City to Puerto Vallarta to San Miguel de Allende have raised alarms about soaring rents, priced-out neighborhoods, and fading traditions. Protests have erupted in Mexico’s capital, and resentment simmers in smaller communities. The biggest sticking point for many Mexicans is that some of the expats enjoy the country’s advantages without integrating – often not even learning basic Spanish after years of living there. This deep dive will explore all angles of the issue – real estate impacts, displacement, cultural loss, and what experts say – to understand whether foreign retirees (and other expats) are part of the gentrification problem in Mexico.
The Appeal of Mexico for Foreign Retirees
For many North Americans, Mexico checks all the boxes as a retirement haven. Living costs are significantly lower than in the United States or Canada, allowing pensions and savings to stretch further. For example, average housing costs in Mexico are around 21% lower than in the U.S. on a comparable basis, and healthcare can be 60% cheaper. Mexico also offers a pleasant climate (no more shoveling snow for the “snowbirds” who winter there), vibrant local culture, and proximity to home. It consistently ranks as the top foreign destination for U.S. retirees, even above popular spots in Europe or elsewhere.
Foreign residents are a visible presence in many Mexican towns and cities. Some communities have well-established expat enclaves dating back decades. For instance, Lake Chapala and San Miguel de Allende have attracted American retirees since the mid-20th century. Beach towns like Puerto Vallarta and Los Cabos exploded in popularity more recently, becoming “expat havens” with large English-speaking communities. In San Miguel de Allende, around 10% of the city’s 175,000 residents are international expats by some estimates – a testament to its draw as a “gringo” hotspot.
Affordability is the prime motivator. As one report noted, many Americans retire to Mexico seeking a quality of life they can no longer afford at home, especially given rising costs of housing and healthcare in the U.S. With U.S. Social Security checks still payable abroad and remote work becoming more common, moving to Mexico has become easier. Even younger digital nomads (not yet retirees) have joined the trend, relocating to enjoy Mexico’s lifestyle while working remotely in dollars or euros. During the pandemic, this movement accelerated – 2020 saw more Americans move to Mexico than to any other country, as remote work and flexible living became viable.
Foreign retirees often bring economic benefits: they buy or rent homes, spend money in local businesses, and sometimes invest in the community. However, their greater spending power – a retiree living on a modest U.S. pension may still earn multiples of the local median income – has side effects. Increasingly, Mexicans are asking whether this influx of relatively wealthy outsiders is driving up real estate prices and transforming neighborhoods in ways that exclude locals. The term “gentrification” has entered the lexicon of Mexico’s public debate, no longer just an issue for New York or San Francisco, but for Mexico City, Oaxaca, and beach towns alike.
Rising Housing Costs and Protests Over Gentrification
There is no doubt that housing prices in Mexico’s desirable areas have surged in recent years. Across Mexico, home prices jumped 247% between 2005 and 2021. In popular city neighborhoods and resort towns, rents have soared beyond what many local families can pay. While many factors contribute to this trend (economic growth, tourism, investors, etc.), locals increasingly point to foreign residents and tourists as a significant factor – especially those earning in stronger currencies (USD or CAD) who can afford to pay more for rent, housing, and services.
In July 2025, these tensions boiled over in Mexico City. Thousands of chilangos (Mexico City natives) poured into the streets to protest gentrification and rising living costs. Marchers voiced anger that long-time residents were being priced out of their traditional neighborhoods by a wave of outsiders. One Mexico City tenant advocacy group even hosted a walking tour of “places we have lost to gentrification, touristification and forced displacement,” pointing out former family homes now turned into chic cafes or short-term rentals for foreigners.
The signs and slogans at these protests made the locals’ feelings clear. Some were explicit – if impolite – in targeting the new arrivals. “New to the city? Working remotely? You’re a f—ing plague and the locals f—ing hate you. Leave,” read posters plastered in one neighborhood. On Twitter, an American’s breezy suggestion to “remote work in Mexico City – it is truly magical” drew hundreds of furious replies from Mexicans: “Please don’t. This city is becoming more and more expensive every day in part because of people like you, and you don’t even realize or care”. The resentment stems from real economic pain: in Mexico City, the average local salary is only about $450 USD a month, yet affluent foreigners have been renting apartments for $1,500 or $2,000, effectively outbidding locals in the housing market.
Many protesters directed their ire at “digital nomads” and remote workers who arrived during the pandemic. According to one report, “many of the signs at the march rejected the arrival of ‘digital nomads’ from the global north, particularly gringos, who often pay less taxes than locals and do not even integrate into the community. For foreigners earning dollars or euros, it is so easy to come to Mexico and rent properties locals can no longer afford.” In other words, Americans and Europeans taking advantage of Mexico’s cheap rents and flexible visa rules were seen as pricing locals out of their own neighborhoods, all while sticking to their own bubble (often not learning Spanish or engaging with local culture).
To be sure, not all the rhetoric has been friendly. Some extreme slogans – “Mexico for Mexicans” or “Spanish spoken here” – have raised concerns about xenophobia. Activists and analysts have been careful to point out that gentrification is a complex phenomenon tied to inequality. As Colombian-Mexican commentator Catalina Ruiz-Navarro notes, “not all migrations gentrify; gentrification is marked by inequalities of power… that generate first-class migrants (‘gringos’ and Europeans, or ‘expats’) and second-class migrants (racialized migrants from poorer countries)”. In Mexico, Americans and other rich-world expats are often treated as a privileged class of migrant. In contrast, say, an indigenous laborer from Guatemala in Mexico would not spark gentrification – they don’t have the wealth to displace anyone. The anger, then, is less about nationality per se and more about the economic clout that certain foreigners wield in local markets.
Mexican officials have begun to respond. Mexico City’s government is cracking down on high rents and uncontrolled Airbnb growth. After the July 2025 demonstrations, Mayor Clara Brugada unveiled a plan to regulate rent across the city and protect tenants. The proposal includes capping rent increases, creating a “reasonable rent” index tied to local incomes, and building more affordable housing units. Just as importantly, the city plans to tighten rules on short-term rentals like Airbnb to “prevent the displacement of people and communities”. As Brugada put it, “The increase in rents… especially in certain areas, have been excessively high, so the time has come to develop public policies that help us ease tensions in those areas.”
Other cities and regions are watching closely. The discontent in Mexico echoes similar backlashes in places like Barcelona, Lisbon, and New Orleans – where locals have also protested foreign buyers, tourists, or remote workers driving up housing costs. Mexico’s situation is unique, though, given the country’s proximity to the U.S. and the sheer scale of the American retiree population living there. Experts emphasize that foreigners are one part of the gentrification puzzle, but not the sole cause. Chronic housing shortages and lack of regulation play a huge role. In Mexico City, 6 in 10 residents live in overcrowded homes due to insufficient housing supply. Federico Sobrino, head of an international real estate federation in Mexico, argues that “the underlying problem is not Airbnb or foreigners, but rather the lack of new housing in the capital”. In his view, encouraging more housing construction (and speeding up permits) would relieve pressure and benefit everyone. Still, for many Mexicans, foreign retirees and remote workers have become the visible face of gentrification, and their impact is playing out dramatically in several communities.
Let’s examine three case studies – Mexico City, Puerto Vallarta, and San Miguel de Allende – to see how this dynamic unfolds and why locals feel foreigners are part of the problem.
Mexico City: Remote Workers and Rent Hikes in the Capital
Mexico City’s trendy inner neighborhoods, like Condesa and Roma, have attracted an influx of foreign remote workers and retirees. Residents have protested soaring rents and even plastered signs urging the “digital nomads” to go home. (Image: San Miguel de Allende shown – a stand-in for gentrified Mexican city vibes)
Mexico City has never lacked outsiders – it’s a global metropolis where people from all over Mexico and the world converge. But the recent wave of foreign remote workers and long-stay tourists is unlike past migrations. Neighborhoods such as Roma, Condesa, Polanco, and Escandón have seen an uptick in Americans, Canadians, and Europeans renting apartments (often via Airbnb) for months at a time. These areas, known for leafy streets and cafés, are increasingly compared to Brooklyn or Berlin – a comparison that irks many locals. “It reminds me of a cleaner, friendlier Brooklyn,” one American transplant blithely told a reporter, as if a Mexican megacity of 22 million is just a New York borough in disguise.
The numbers tell part of the story: A one-bedroom apartment in a trendy Mexico City zone might rent for $1,500–$2,000 USD, a bargain by Los Angeles or Toronto standards but astronomically high relative to local incomes. Longtime residents who’ve rented for decades can’t afford the sudden jumps. Mayor Brugada noted that in some areas, rents “doubled from one year to the next, reaching increases of 100% without objective justification”, forcing out families who had lived there their entire lives.
Local resentment has been palpable. Beyond the street protests and Twitter debates, everyday encounters capture the cultural friction. One anecdote from a café in Condesa went viral: a well-dressed Mexican man was handed an English-only menu, sighed, and asked “A menu in Spanish, please.” Such moments fuel the feeling that parts of Mexico City are being ceded to an English-speaking bubble, where locals feel like foreigners in their own city. As a 30-year-old chilanga, Isabel T., observed, “We’ve seen changes in rent, restaurant, and café prices, and we associate this with the many foreigners – especially Americans… My annoyance isn’t directed at the foreigners per se, but at the situation affecting my wallet.” Her sentiment reflects a common view: people aren’t against outsiders on a personal level, but they resent the economic strain tied to their presence.
The “digital nomad” controversy also carries an ironic inversion of roles. Mexicans note the double standard: Mexican immigrants can’t so easily move to the U.S. to find affordable living, yet Americans face few barriers coming to Mexico. This asymmetry – Americans being welcomed in Mexico while anti-immigrant sentiment rises in the U.S. – isn’t lost on observers. It contributes to a sense of historical déjà vu; as one Mexico City cultural critic put it, the influx “stinks of modern colonialism”, a loaded phrase suggesting foreigners are reaping the comforts of Mexico without regard for locals, much like colonizers of old.
Mexico City’s authorities are attempting to balance being an open, global city with protecting residents’ quality of life. Alongside rent controls and affordable housing plans, there’s talk of tourist taxes or visas for long-term visitors, to make foreigners “pay their share” as one local teen suggested. It’s a delicate issue: the capital benefits from international talent and tourism, but not at the cost of displacing its own people. The next few years will test whether policy can mediate this tension. If not, the refrain “Our homes now house digital nomads” will continue to be a rallying cry for frustrated chilangos.
Puerto Vallarta: Coastal Paradise, Soaring Prices
On Mexico’s Pacific coast, Puerto Vallarta has long been an expat and tourist favorite. With golden beaches and a laid-back vibe, PV (as it’s known) attracts thousands of American and Canadian retirees, as well as short-term vacationers. The city’s economy thrives on tourism and foreign residents – but in recent years, locals have watched in dismay as rents skyrocketed and locals were pushed out of the town center.
According to a local report, Puerto Vallarta has seen rents jump by 40% to 60% in just the past three years. This is an astonishing rise that far outpaces any growth in local salaries. A major factor is the unregulated real estate boom catering to foreigners. As one analysis put it, “The unbridled rise in tourism and lack of regulation in the real estate market have led to an alarming increase in rental prices, displacing many local residents to the outskirts and mountains, while the areas near the coast fill up with foreigners who have access to exclusive services.” In plain terms, wealthy outsiders (or investors catering to them) have bought up prime properties near the beaches and the historic downtown Malecón boardwalk, converting them into pricey condos or Airbnb rentals. Formerly residential neighborhoods have turned into virtually all-tourist zones.
The impact on locals has been dramatic. Families who lived for generations in central Vallarta neighborhoods like the Zona Romántica or 5 de Diciembre have been forced to move out. One by one, traditional homes were sold off and renovated into vacation rentals. Long-term tenants saw their leases not renewed. With nowhere affordable in town, many locals packed up and relocated to distant hillside areas or outlying towns. “What were once family homes are now apartments rented to tourists at exorbitant prices, leaving locals out of the market,” the Vallarta Today news site noted grimly.
The displacement is not just a matter of inconvenience – it has caused real hardship. Entire communities have been uprooted. Many local workers now endure long, costly commutes from peripheral areas where housing is cheaper (and often substandard). “Families who once lived within walking distance of work, school, and hospitals now have to invest time and money in transportation,” often from neighborhoods with poor roads, limited water, and unreliable electricity. Some have moved to rural zones where basic services are lacking, creating a new kind of urban exile. As a result, locals feel a sense of loss and exclusion. “The displacement… has generated a feeling of exclusion and frustration among local inhabitants, who feel they are being displaced from their own home”. Imagine watching your childhood neighbors gradually vanish, your favorite local shops replaced by boutiques and foreigner-oriented cafes, and realizing that you can no longer afford to live in the town you call home. That’s what many Vallartenses are experiencing.
Culturally, Puerto Vallarta also risks losing its essence. The city built its charm on a mix of Mexican tradition and natural beauty, but if current trends continue, it could morph into a generic resort town. Local officials worry that Vallarta could “lose its identity as an authentic place where Mexican traditions and Vallartan hospitality are fundamental”. Already, one hears more English than Spanish in some central streets during high season. Longtime residents note that some traditional festivals or community events have scaled down as the demographic changes. And yet, there’s an economic Catch-22: tourism and foreign investment are pillars of Vallarta’s prosperity. The city’s growth and jobs rely heavily on those very forces that are driving gentrification.
So, are foreigners to blame in Vallarta? In part, yes – but policy decisions are crucial. The problem has been “fueled largely by the lack of clear regulation around tourism and the rental market,” analysts note. Unlike cities such as Barcelona or San Francisco that imposed strict limits on short-term rentals, Puerto Vallarta had (until recently) few rules curbing Airbnb or speculative buying. This opened the floodgates for outside investors to profit, while locals were left without protections. Some Vallarta locals candidly admit mixed feelings: they understand that “we usually blame y’all (foreigners) for upscaling the cost of living but we are happy to sell” (as one local wryly posted online reddit.com). In other words, local property owners who sold out for a windfall contributed to the gentrification, even as their neighbors then had to move away. It’s a complex cycle of development and displacement.
The city is now playing catch-up to address the issues. Public pressure is mounting for affordable housing initiatives and limits on vacation rentals. Proposed solutions include tax incentives for developers to build housing for local families, and caps on the number of Airbnb units to reduce competition for long-term rentals. Whether these will be implemented – and effective – remains to be seen. For now, Puerto Vallarta exemplifies how a “paradise” for foreign retirees can become a housing nightmare for locals, if growth is allowed to run unchecked.
San Miguel de Allende: When a Charming Town Becomes an Expat Enclave
If one place encapsulates the double-edged sword of foreign influx, it is San Miguel de Allende. This colonial gem in the central highlands (Guanajuato state) has been heralded in travel magazines as one of the “best cities in the world” for its beauty and atmosphere. Over the past few decades, it has become home to thousands of American and Canadian retirees, earning nicknames like “Gringolandia” or “Mexico Lite” from critics. San Miguel’s expat community is not new – artists and veterans started moving here as early as the 1940s and ‘50s – but its growth has accelerated, and so have local tensions.
A local San Miguel native, María Ruiz, recently described her hometown as a “golden cage”: splendid but increasingly inaccessible to its own people. On one hand, she acknowledges, “having foreigners live in San Miguel has enriched the community enormously.” But on the other, “continuing to live in the city is almost impossible [for locals]… living in San Miguel is like living in a golden cage.” Why? Exorbitant housing prices top the list of negatives. “Housing prices have skyrocketed… It’s normal to see house listings priced in the millions of dollars,” Ruiz notes. For context, a million-dollar home in San Miguel is utterly out of reach for someone earning a typical Mexican salary. “It’s unthinkable that, with my Mexican income, I could afford a house in the city I grew up in,” she writes. The painful part is that many of those houses “once belonged to the grandparents of someone I know”. In earlier generations, local families owned those beautiful colonial homes in the center. Over time, many sold them (often to foreign buyers), and now their grandchildren literally can’t afford to live two blocks from where their ancestors lived. Downtown San Miguel is now dominated by foreign residents, while natives have been increasingly displaced to cheaper outskirts.
The loss of cultural traditions is another poignant issue. San Miguel is a city proud of its cultural heritage – its festivals, religious celebrations, and local customs. But as wealthy outsiders bought up downtown properties, a subtle erosion occurred. Ruiz gives the example of the “Friday of Sorrows” tradition, where each year before Easter local families set up altars and offer refreshments to neighbors and visitors. “Every year, I have watched as fewer and fewer houses set up their altars downtown,” she says sadly. Why fewer altars? Because “San Miguel natives no longer live downtown. The people who live there now are foreigners who do not participate in these traditions.” In short, when the locals left, they took their traditions with them to whichever new neighborhoods they moved to, and the historic center lost some of its soul.
Language and integration are flash points here. Many expats in San Miguel reside for years without learning Spanish, since the town has so many English speakers and services catering to them. From a local’s perspective, this can come across as arrogant or dismissive. “Friends, the least you can do if you are in this country is to learn some basic Spanish to communicate with your neighbor or market vendors,” implores María Ruiz. She notes that too often she’s seen foreigners get “upset and frustrated” when locals don’t speak English, instead of realizing it’s on the foreigner to learn Spanish. This sentiment is widely echoed. In San Miguel’s cafes or at the library, you’ll overhear long-term expats admitting they “really should” work on their Spanish, yet they get by without it. Locals see that as a sign that foreigners want the advantages of the city without fully respecting the culture.
Indeed, a column in the Los Angeles Times once skewered this attitude: “Natives have loudly complained that these new Americans are pricing them out of their homes and not bothering to learn local mores and traditions.” Being an “ugly American expat” isn’t just about loud or rude behavior; it can also be the absence of effort to engage with local culture. In San Miguel, for example, there are instances of expats forming their own social clubs, attending events in English, and rarely interacting with Mexican residents aside from those serving them in restaurants or stores. This divide creates a kind of parallel society within the town.
However, San Miguel’s story is not purely one of gloom and conflict. It also highlights how foreign residents can contribute positively – something often overlooked in heated debates. The same local writer, María Ruiz, outlines a number of benefits that the expat community has brought to San Miguel:
- Economic boosts to local families: Many locals have profited by renting or selling properties to foreigners. Ruiz’s own family, for instance, rented a house to American tenants for over 20 years, and that steady income put her and her siblings through university. There are hundreds of Sanmiguelense families who have similarly benefited by providing housing, services, or products to expats. Landlords earn rental income; shopkeepers and contractors have a reliable clientele. While housing prices are high, those locals who do own property have seen their assets appreciate greatly.
- Creation of cultural events and festivals: Foreigners have helped launch new traditions in town. One famous example is the international film festival (GIFF), started by an American resident, which has become an annual highlight. Other expats (and Mexicans from outside) have established a jazz & blues festival, chamber music festival, food festivals, and more. These events enliven the city’s cultural scene and provide entertainment and education for locals and visitors alike. In a way, the mingling of cultures has birthed new traditions to complement the old ones.
- Artistic revitalization: San Miguel has long been an art colony, attracting creative souls. Expats have contributed to that legacy by patronizing the arts and even becoming artists themselves. The city is dotted with galleries, studios, and art centers, some founded by foreign artists or in collaboration with them. This has turned San Miguel into an art Mecca, inspiring even local youth to take up painting or sculpture. The cosmopolitan mix means you might find works by an English painter or an American sculptor alongside pieces by renowned Mexican muralists – a cultural richness that might not exist otherwise.
- Philanthropy and social programs: Retirees often have time and resources, and many choose to give back. San Miguel’s expat population has a strong philanthropic streak. They have founded or funded numerous charities – for example, Patronato Pro Niños, which provides medical and dental care to low-income children, and a special education school for kids with disabilities. A team of U.S. doctors regularly flies in to perform free surgeries for children with orthopedic issues. The public library in San Miguel was started by a foreign resident 70 years ago and still runs on a volunteer model with many expats contributing. These initiatives have materially improved lives in the community, beyond what government programs could do.
- Investment in local businesses and media: Some foreigners have invested in the local economy in ways that create jobs for Mexicans. The newspaper publishing this perspective (Mexico News Daily) is one example – it was founded by foreigners in San Miguel, creating local employment and promoting Mexico’s image. Others have opened restaurants, boutiques, or tour companies that provide employment and pay taxes. In short, not every expat is just sipping margaritas by the pool; many actively engage in community building.
This dual nature of the expat impact is why the question “Are foreigners part of the problem?” in San Miguel (and by extension, Mexico) doesn’t have a simple yes/no answer. They are part of the gentrification problem – undeniably so, as evidenced by skyrocketing prices and cultural displacement. But they’re also part of the community’s fabric, at times contributing solutions and enrichment. As María Ruiz concludes her op-ed, “San Miguel de Allende is what it is thanks to its people… foreigners from the U.S., Canada, Spain, England, China and Germany. We all make this small place the best city in the world. Everyone is welcome — you just have to open your eyes and connect with the city that hosts you."
That final line carries a key piece of advice: if foreigners do come, they should truly connect with and respect the place. That means learning the language, understanding the customs, and remembering you’re a guest in someone else’s hometown.
Language and Cultural Disconnect: A Two-Way Street
It’s worth zeroing in on the issue of language and cultural integration, since it’s so often cited by locals as a source of frustration. Across Mexico’s expat hotspots, one common refrain from locals is: “They’ve lived here for years and still don’t speak Spanish!” This image of the gringo who won’t learn the local language has become a symbol of the broader cultural gap.
From the Mexican perspective, when a foreigner doesn’t bother to learn even basic Spanish, it suggests a kind of isolation or superiority complex – as if expecting the world around them to accommodate their English. As mentioned, in San Miguel some expats can go about their day patronizing businesses where staff speak English, socializing mostly with other expats, and thus feel little urgency to learn Spanish. But to Mexicans, this can feel insulting. Respectful integration implies making an effort to communicate in the local tongue. The expat who only speaks English might also miss out on understanding local news, participating in town hall discussions, or fully appreciating cultural nuances.
On social media and forums, Mexicans (and expats who have learned Spanish) often vent about this. “A large majority of expats don't speak Spanish and expect the locals to accommodate them instead of learning the language and traditions,” wrote one American who spent time in San Miguel. This was seconded by locals who see it daily. It breeds resentment when an expat treats Mexico like a cheap backdrop for their retirement without engaging with its people. As one Mexico City commentator put it, many Americans profess to “love Mexico but not Mexicans.” They enjoy the food, weather, and cost of living, but have minimal interest in the community’s well-being or culture.
On the flip side, it’s also true that Mexicans are generally very hospitable and tolerant toward foreigners, even those who don’t speak Spanish. It’s not uncommon for locals to switch to English if they know it, to help a foreigner feel comfortable. In tourist areas especially, many Mexicans take pride in being good hosts. This can sometimes inadvertently enable expats to avoid learning Spanish (since they can get by without it). However, the goodwill has limits when locals feel their hospitality is taken for granted or when real economic harm is felt (like being priced out of housing).
Language is just one aspect of cultural disconnect. Others include differing social norms (say, how loud or quiet one is, attitudes toward punctuality, formality vs. informality, etc.), and understanding local values. For example, Mexican culture places strong emphasis on family and community. An expat who comes from a more individualistic society might not immediately grasp why certain local traditions or family gatherings are so important, but learning about them shows respect.
Ultimately, the message from locals isn’t that every foreign retiree must become fluent in Spanish or perfectly assimilated – that’s unrealistic for many older folks. It’s about making an effort and showing humility. As the Mexico News Daily columnist pleaded: “Friends, the least you can do if you are in this country is to learn some basic Spanish… I’m sure that by learning Spanish you will discover a new and interesting worldview.” The cultural exchange goes both ways: foreigners who integrate often report that their lives are deeply enriched by Mexican friends and traditions, far beyond the surface pleasures that drew them in initially.
Broader Perspectives: Policy, Inequality, and Finding Balance
Having examined the challenges, it’s important to recognize that foreign retirees and expats are part of a larger context. Gentrification in Mexico is fueled not only by foreign demand, but also by internal factors. Urban economist Viridiana Ríos points out that Mexico’s housing price boom (the 247% rise) occurred in a period of economic growth and scant regulation. In places like Mexico City, local developers and wealthy Mexican investors have also contributed to gentrification, redeveloping neighborhoods and marketing them to the affluent (Mexican or foreign). In fact, some of the first waves of gentrification in Mexico City’s Condesa/Roma in the 1990s and 2000s were driven by upper-class Mexicans and returning Mexican-Americans, before the recent foreign remote work craze. So the dynamic often is: an area gentrifies domestically, then gets an extra push of “super-gentrification” when international folks discover it.
The Mexican government’s stance has generally been welcoming to foreign retirees – perhaps too welcoming, critics say, without considering local impacts. Programs to attract retirees and remote workers bring in investment and tourism revenue. For instance, in 2022 Mexico’s then-Mayor (now presidential hopeful) Claudia Sheinbaum signed an agreement with Airbnb and UNESCO to promote Mexico City to digital nomads. It worked – digital nomads came in droves, spending money but also driving up rents. Now authorities are backtracking, realizing the unintended consequences on housing. This reflects a learning curve: how to reap the economic benefits of global mobility without hurting residents. It’s a challenge cities worldwide are grappling with.
So, are foreigners part of the problem? The evidence suggests that yes, foreign retirees and remote workers are contributing to gentrification and its associated problems in Mexico’s popular destinations. Their higher spending power, relative to locals, inherently puts upward pressure on prices for goods, services, and especially housing. When a retiree from California can afford to pay three times the rent a local schoolteacher can, landlords will naturally gravitate to the higher-paying tenant. Multiply that by thousands of expats and you have a significant market shift. In places like San Miguel, Puerto Vallarta, and certain Mexico City neighborhoods, foreigners have in effect created a parallel real estate market priced in dollars, one that’s inaccessible to most locals.
However, it would be overly simplistic to pin all the blame on foreign residents. Gentrification is a process driven by policy (or lack thereof), by global economic forces, and by local actors as well. As we’ve seen, many locals sell their properties willingly, taking advantage of the opportunity to make a profit (who can blame a homeowner for cashing in on a California buyer’s deep pockets?). Local governments often court foreign investment – until backlash occurs. And internal migration (affluent Mexicans moving to the same attractive towns) also plays a role.
In discussing solutions, experts emphasize regulation and inclusion over outright exclusion. Few if any locals actually propose barring foreigners from coming – Mexico is a friendly country and also bound by international norms (Mexicans certainly wouldn’t want their own migrants barred elsewhere). Instead, the focus is on policies to mitigate the impact: rent controls or stabilization in overheated markets, higher taxes or fees on absentee owners and short-term rentals, reinvestment of tourist revenues into affordable housing, and preservation of cultural heritage sites. Mexico City’s new plan is one example of attempting this balancing act. There’s also talk of requiring temporary residents (like those on remote work visas) to contribute to social security or local infrastructure funds, so that they aren’t just free riders on city services.
For foreign retirees and expats themselves – especially those reading this who either live in Mexico or plan to – the takeaways are clear. Being part of the solution means:
- Integrating respectfully: Learn Spanish (at least conversationally), participate in local events, be a good neighbor. This builds goodwill and mutual understanding.
- Supporting the local economy in fair ways: Frequent local businesses, pay fair wages to any staff you hire, and don’t flaunt wealth in a way that exacerbates class divides. If you rent, be mindful of local rental norms (for example, some expats team up to not overbid on rents, so they don’t set an inflated precedent).
- Advocating for inclusive policies: Some expat communities actually fundraise or lobby for affordable housing or donate to local causes that help those in need, recognizing the imbalance. This kind of engagement can offset some negative impacts.
- Understanding your footprint: Realize that your presence has effects beyond you. Even if you individually aren’t “rich,” by Mexican standards you might be relatively well-off. That doesn’t mean you should feel guilty for moving to Mexico, but you should be aware and empathetic to locals’ concerns. As one longtime expat observed, living large while your neighbors struggle is “terrible yet so apropos” of certain privileged migrants – strive not to be that stereotype.
In conclusion, foreigners are indeed part of Mexico’s gentrification problem, but they can also be part of the solution. The influx of retirees and remote workers is a reality that isn’t likely to completely reverse; if anything, more North Americans may seek refuge in Mexico as the cost of living bites up north. The key will be managing this trend so that it’s sustainable and mutually beneficial. Mexicans understandably want to preserve their communities, culture, and affordability, and not become strangers in their own land. Foreign residents, by acknowledging these concerns and integrating conscientiously, can help ease the tensions.
Mexico has a proud tradition of welcoming outsiders – “Mi casa es su casa” (my home is your home) as the saying goes. That hospitality is not a given; it’s earned through respect. Are foreigners part of the problem of gentrification? Yes – but they can also choose to be part of the solution, by being not just consumers of a lifestyle but true members of the community. The hope in places like San Miguel de Allende, Puerto Vallarta, and Mexico City is to find a balance where locals and foreigners alike can thrive. Achieving that won’t be easy, but with open eyes and open dialogue, it’s possible to keep Mexico both a welcoming place for newcomers and a home that Mexicans are not priced out of.
