Next Stop: Mexico
I’ve been to Mexico a few times — but I remember very little. As I’d really only been as a kid, the memories I do still have are fuzzy around the edges, like old photographs.
I remember buying tortillas in a metal garage in Akumal, straight from the tiny hands of the woman who made them. We devoured them — the condensation on the plastic bag they came in dripping down our hands. I remember bobbing up and down in the surf of a tiny cove at the most beautiful beach in the world (maybe not anymore) in Tulum — as a small child, the ocean was much more interesting than the ruins. I remember snorkeling in front of our hotel, as a barracuda slid up against my back and turned to bare its jagged teeth. I remember swimming through cenotes, slightly terrified of what might be beneath me in the dark blue water. I remember using my rudimentary Spanish to get us out of a mishap with the local police in Todos Santos — a shady surf shop rented us a bad board and it snapped in half. I remember walking down the block to the taquería to eat as many tacos al carbon as I could stand.
Mostly, I remember the haze of doing nothing — something I hated as a child. My parents lazed about in the sun, eager to do less than the previous day — and now, as an adult, I completely understand their prior motivations. We’ve both been really busy, and self-care hasn’t been high on the priority list — we’re ready to wander, eat, drink, sit.
We’re heading to Mexico for nine days — and to say I am excited is a clear understatement. Mexico City for two days, then to Puebla for a day, and then we're spending the last four days at a lime plantation-turned-luxury hotel in the middle of the forest in San Rafael, Veracruz — I cannot wait. Mark's never been to Mexico before, and I'm excited to make new less-fuzzy memories with him.
Nos vemos, friends.