Goodbye Mexico! I will miss you!

"Yenni! I´ve been looking for you all morning."

"Johnny, hey I lost my camera last night," I said looking like I had lost my puppy.

"I know. My brother told me.  That sucks.  Was it when we were at beach last night? When we built the fire?"

"I think so..all I remember is taking a picture of you by the fire and throwing the camera back into my bag, but I scoured the beach for it all morning.  I even asked all the hotels by there to see if someone might have seen it and so far nothing."

"Well, I will make sure to keep an eye out for it and let the others know as well.  Hopefully it will turn up and we can mail it to you!" He says smiling.

"That would be beautiful." I say cheering up a bit.

"I have something to show you."  Johnny hands me a banana that I hungrily accept.  He guides me out of the reception area of the hostel.  "I want you to see what me and some friends have been working on."

We walk down the sandy road and pass the peaceful dogs who have dug into the sand on the shady part of the street to keep cool.  We pass the colorful shops and the drivers in their golf carts.  I look over at Johnny and think to myself: God, am I really leaving paradise?   I tune into the sound of the ocean and think about how much I will miss this place; the relaxed vibe everyone has, watching the fisherman bring in their bounty every morning, drinking fresh carrot juice and never looking at clocks.  I look at Johnny again.  I will miss my new friends.

Johnny leads me to a vacant terrain half all dirt and half all wild vegetation.  Some women are filling wheel barrels with the weeds and vegetation and some teenagers are working the soil separating the plants with old hardened coconut shells as decor.

"We started a community garden," he said proudly.

I was wondering why he hadn´t let me throw away our banana peels and insisted on carrying them.  He held them up before dropping them into a pile, "compost." He announced smiling.

"We are trying to educate everyone about it.  So the kids can learn to plant fruit, vegetables and to recycle."

A tall woman brisks past me. "What types of seeds are those? We have to make sure they are not Monsanto seeds.  We are boycotting, remember that documentary I showed you?"  She says to one of the girls who was digging into the soil.

"So you´re in charge of this place?" I asked, approaching her with a smile. 

"Actually, I am just learning.  My expertise are animals.  I run the animal sanctuary next door - have you seen it?"

She leads me through the fence.  "I started the garden for the community and it is absolutely dependent on their partcicipation and involvement.  Without them, it will fail."  I stopped to pet the raccoon through the fence.  It grabbed my ring and held onto my thumb.  "They like silver," she said.

It was getting late and I couldn´t afford to miss the last boat off the island.  I thanked her and said goodbye returning to Johnny.  "We´ll keep in touch," I promised.

"Of course we will and I will keep an eye out for your camera," he replied.  I kissed him goodbye and hugged him hard. 

I walked back to my hostel excited for the development of the island.  I thought about what I would contribute if I were to come back again someday.

I boarded the boat, missing my camera and part of my heart.  I headed back to solid ground.

Who Falls in Love with her Masseuse in Paradise?

I do! I do! 

My dearest lovelies,
I have been trying so hard to stay away from boys this whole trip.  You have no idea what a challenge it has been, however it has been rewarding.  I have been writing and dedicating much time to myself.  I have also been pampering myself..like getting massages for instance.

I was eating at a place that Angel (I will write more about him on another occasion) took me to on the beach.  It was there that I saw him.  A beautiful man with long dark curly hair and dark skin all dressed in white comes and joins us.  "This is Johnny," says Angel.  Jenny and Johnny...already I love it.  Umm...speak, Jen. Stop staring, good Lord, you are embarassing yourself!

"So what do you do here on the island?" I ask.
"I´m the masseuse.  My cabaña is right over there."

I am totally getting a massage later.

"That´s awesome, I just got out of my yoga class right now.  It was Ashtanga..I hadn´t realized how sore my back was from carrying my backpack and purse with me everywhere for the past few weeks."

"Well, you should stop by if you´d like."

Done.  Totally done.

I went at sunset after tanning the whole day on the beach, hanging out with Angel.  We started talking after the massage and he says, "I feel such a connection with you, ever since I met you earlier.  Do you want to go grab dinner?"

YES!  I totally would love to! Oh my God!

Okay, so not only was my last blog about wanting to live here and finding a super sweet apartment here for cheap so that I could be an inspired writer and do yoga and eat fresh fruit and fish every single day, but now there is a hot boy who does yoga on the beach each morning and massage therapy that feels a connection with me!?!?  I am so screwed.

Ugh...Chicago...what do  you offer me?  I am so torn.  I would have to get on that boat tomorrow at 1p.m. to catch my flight Monday morning.  I am not quite sure how that is going to happen...

Off to see Johnny for dinner. 

My Route



Cuba...so close...yet so far away...



Paradise vs. Home

I am in paradise.

There are no cars here.  The roads are made of sand and the closest thing to cars you see are little golf carts.  All the dogs run around here free yet they look very taken care of with collars and at healthy weights.  People care for their animals here.  Everyone is so friendly and relaxed.

Me...I am all decked out with seashell bracelets adorning each ankle and a golden tan.  My neck line has a new inhabitant in form of a gorgeous seashell necklace with coral stones.  I wear a huge sunhat and wander everywhere barefoot.  I eat fresh fruit and seafood everyday and as such my hair has a healthy shine from all the fish oil.  My black hair is getting longer and I feel it caressing my bare back often.  I haven´t even looked at makeup for days.   I feel so healthy, more healthy than I´ve felt in a long time.

I would be lying to you if I didn´t tell you that I went to check out an apartment here this morning.  For $166 USD a month I could live here comfortably just three blocks from the most beautiful beach.

My mind is racing with ideas as to how to stay like I could give tarot card readings on the beach to tourists and my buddy who is house-sitting for me in Chicago can sublease my fully furnished apartment and I could do my taxes online and see if I can get some work as a freelance writer.  I could make friends with the fisherman here and charm them into feeding me if I do the cooking.  I could give shoulder massages on the beach or maybe start some other type of business here.

Immediately my future is flashing before my eyes.  Do I really want to go back to Chicago? It is cold there and the people don´t graciously greet you good morning as you walk down the street, instead they avoid your gaze, perfectly intent on their direction.  Chicago where the days come and go so quickly that you forget the seasons.  When its winter you wonder why you live there and then when it is summer you remember why you do but forget the horrid winter.  You just cant win.

I can see my life here.  They have a yoga class at 9a.m. every morning, Kundalini, my favorite style.  I can see myself eating fresh fruit all day and writing all night inspired by the ocean and waves.  I can feel myself in this life.

I think better about my purpose, and as much as I wish it was, it isn´t tucked away on a tiny island.  It is among my people.  I know I have a lot of work to do.

So here.  Now.  Heading to the beach.  Chicago, I don´t miss you yet but I´ll see you soon.

The Fall and Rise of Spain

"Are you from Argentina, you speak Spanish so well but I can`t place your accent," says a dark Spaniard to me.

I smile, "No, Chicago but I´ve been speaking all my life."

We start chatting on the beach casually.  The sun is setting over the ocean and he says that this is paradise.  How can I possibly disagree?

"Mexico is so beautiful, Spain gave up such a beautiful country and handed it to the Mexicans and look at what a disaster they have managed to make of it."

Jen´s Brain: Oh, no he did not just say that to me...
Jen´s Mouth: As I recall, Spain didn´t exactly hand it over.  There were wars fought and Mexico won.  Also, they stole the land from its original inhabitants so the possession of Mexico by Spain, in my opinion was a mere occupation.
Him: Well, the Maya and Aztec were constantly fighting as well.  The way I see it you are either the conquistador or conquested.  So do you have a boyfriend?
Jen´s Brain: FUCK!  Of course, I should have known that this was why he pulled me away to chat.  Ugh, I am so naive sometimes...I never know.  I can never tell...
Jen´s Mouth: No.
Him: Oh, such a pretty girl like you, not having a boyfriend.  Why is that?
Jen´s Brain: Shit, do I have to justify this question?  Pretty maybe but I´m thinking a more appropriate word might be lucky at the moment.
Him: I don´t have a girlfriend.
Jen´s Brain: Can I go now?  I thought we were discussing conquests...well I guess this is kinda the same thing.
Him: So, Yenni, how do you like your men?  What is your type?
Jen´s Brain: Not you.
Jen´s Mouth: I don´t know...I guess the most important thing is that they know themselves.
Him: Yes, that is good.  I like women who know themselves too.
Jen´s Brain: Okay...exit line, Jen, exit line!!
Jen´s Mouth: You know I am just so exhausted.  I need to go to bed.  It has been a really long day.
Him: (looking disappointed) Oh, it´s still quite early.  You should hang out more.  What are you up to tomorrow.  Maybe we can go to the beach together or something.
Jen´s Brain:  Nope.
Jen´s Mouth: (smile) Goodnight.

Since this exchange the gentleman in question has been following me around the hostel, trying to talk to me and I have been trying to look incredibly busy, as incredibly busy as one can look on an island and at a hostel with hammocks at every corner.  I´ve been avoiding him like the plague the Spaniards brought to these lands.  The time has come for me to get off this island. 

The Spaniards have however, redeemed themselves in the form of an adorable, intelligent young woman named Eli.  She is a writer, artist and traveler and we spent a whole night talking about life, spirituality, travelling and global social issues.  We exchanged pictures of artwork and per her lovely recommendation I am leaving Isla Mujeres and going to Isla Holbox, a much less visited and touristed island.  It is a fisherman`s port and sounds like some lovely quiet for this writer to get some work done.

As a sidenote my father would not forgive me if I didn´t mention my own Spanish blood, of which I am composed of half.  A quarter from Galecia and a quarter from Islas Canarias.

I am Mexican; I am also American. I am both.

Last night I made some friends.  This Aussie girl named Tash.  Tash is 29 years old.  She lives a rather transient lifestyle.  She will go from place to place and stop in spots where she could make money working in the hospitality industry in whatever country she happens to be in, saves up quite a bit and then moves on and travels for months at a time again.  Last country she worked in was Canada and on her itinerary next is Oaxaca, Mexico; Bali, Indonesia (for a family reunion); then back home to Australia.

Matt is from Israel and I swear he has the most beautiful eyes you´ve ever seen.  He used to be a dancer and you could tell when you do yoga with him.  He´s from Israel and just got done with his mandatory military service there and is travelling a bit before going to medical school.  He is a darling and very sweet.

There are others...Amanda, the Londoner with a slight Cockney accent is hilarious.  Then there´s the cute, calm and reserved German boy whose name I don´t remember.  There´s Simon from Sweden who has red hair.  It´s almost like the U.N. in here.  Just listening to the lodge in the morning I hear a myriad of accents and languages: French, German, Israeli, Italian...  There are many people here from Spain, Argentina, Venezuela as well.

The crowd is primarily younger in their 20s and 30s but there are quite a few older couples here too.  Its so diverse and tolerant execept for one thing...

The lodge is circular and all around there are flags from different countries: India, Cuba, Jamaica, Canada, Mexico...all countries in North America are represented except for one.

"Whoa why are all the seagulls flying over here?" asks Tash as we lay out on the beach.
"Probably some stupid American is feeding them." Replies Isha.
"Hey, guys, um...I´m an American..." I say laughing hysterically.
"Oh shit, sorry!" They reply.

It´s no biggie.  I get their sentiment.  I understand. Furthermore I´m on an island right outside of Cancun.  Cancun...the land where Americans come and drink until sunrise leaving their vomit on the streets for the Mexican people to clean it up.  Cancun, the land where Americans stay in one hotel the whole time and never leave.  Cancun...the land where Americans would rather swim in the pool than the ocean.  Cancun, the land where Americans come to wave around their dollars without even learning to say "thank you" or "please" in Spanish.

"You don´t seem American.  They generally stick out here like a sore thumb." Says Amanda.  "I am here and therefore I am Mexican when I am on this land.  I´m also half Cuban but have not been there yet." I reply. 

It´s funny, I don´t know who I have more in common with or whose company I prefer here: the women sitting outside of their artensenia shops or these new traveling friends I have made.  I don´t reply to the Mexican men on the street who speak to me in English pretending I don´t understand.  I am in Mexico, speak to me in Spanish...I am not one of them, I think to myself.

Yet, I am very American.  I am a patriot. My eyes gleam with pride when I start to describe Chicago, my home, my city. I love and respect our President and would be honored to serve him, if only in these moments, as a better ambassador and representative of our nation abroad.

Quick blog fact: This post is the blog´s 100th post. I read somewhere in the blogosphere that a blog isn´t considered serious until it at least has 100 posts. Here´s to being a serious blogger.

The only way I can describe this place is INSANE and AWESOME!

Day One in Isla Mujeres and I have already called to change my flight from a week to when I was originally set to come back home, taken laundry to get done, had a yoga class, went grocery shopping for myself, hung out at the beach and it is barely 7p.m.  Oh yeah, and my sleep last night was minimal at best on a cold bus for six hours.  I barely arrived to the island as the sun was rising.

So this place is the real backpacking deal.  For what is equilvalent to $10.00 USD a night you get breakfast, a bed, free salsa lessons, yoga and whatever else is on the itinerary for the evening.  Tonight, Monday, there are two parties going on.  There are bike rentals, scuba diving, snorkeling etc.

Given, the bed you get isn't necessarily ideal but it is clean.  I am sharing it with five other bunkmates (it feels so weird to say that).  Today as I was settling in, one of my bunkmates asked me my plans for travel and where I had been.  I asked him what was next on his itinerary and he replied that this was his current destination.  I thought that was the most awesome answer. 

This is my current destination and it is insane.  My yoga teacher showed up late and apologized for being partially drunk for class today.  The layout of this place is insane.  It's a labyrinth of  dorms, gardens, outdoor patios for drum circles, beach volleyball, drinking, hanging out, hammocks, yoga and massages.  I will have so many stories. 

Quick closing fact: Isla Mujeres is the first place in the republic of Mexico to receive the Sun's rays every morning.

Photos from the journey

My first breakfast in Merida, Huevos Montuñados

Zocalo in Merida

My poetry students in Maxcanú, Yucatan

He was laughing so hard as his grandmother tickled him on the bus.  I couldn´t resist getting this shot.  He has a gorgeous smile.

This is the life.  Santa Elena, Yucatan

Uxmal, Yucatan

Sr. Armando Mellenes and his bici-taxi.  He and I spoke for an hour as I waited for the bus on the side of the road.  His daughter is a grandmother at 30 years old and he works on the corn fields in Yucatan.  He was very curious about Chicago and we spoke at length about education in Mexico.

Campeche City, Campeche

My travel partner, Gibran.

At a tiny seaside stop.  Best fish you`ve ever tried.

Water lily and lily pad Gibran gave to me.  I think it was a gift for finally making peace with the ocean that day.

I was not this happy when awoken by the Howler Monkeys a few hours after this was taken.

Gibran and I swam in this lagoon at midnight and we tried to get to the island (visible barely in this picture) in the middle of the night but turned back after getting 3/4s of the way because the wind was blowing the current strongly and pulling us in an undesirable direction.  We ended up swimming back to the dock as fast as we could.  Awesome midnight adventure.  The lagoon looks so much more innocent and calm in the morning light.

One of the many wonders of the jungle.

Peace. More freckles and maybe a little sunburn.

Last night.

Howler Monkeys, Camping in the Jungle and Learning to Drive in Mexico

I woke up to the sound of howler monkeys in the middle of the night.  If you´ve never heard them you could confuse them with roaring jaguars or something even more frightful.

"Gibran, despiertate...escucha," I said to the dark of the tent.  I was in the middle of the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve.  In other words, I was camping in a tent in the middle of the jungle.

The air smells like jungle sweat in the most delicious way.  It´s a humid mixture of moisture and this nut-like scent.  The birds chirp loudly and there is a constant insect buzz.  There is not a moment that you look straight ahead into the jungle and you don´t see something moving.  Insects abound and all species of birds as well, from vultures to sparrows to super noisy ones that I don´t recognize.  The squirrels here are a deep red and there are other small mammals rustling through the leaves at all hours.

I guess this is the part where I back up a bit and explain who Gibran is and what he and I are doing in the middle of the jungle sleeping in a tent.

Gibran and I met in Oaxaca City last April.  I was alone walking through the Zocalo and saw him drawing.  We started talking and for the whole week I was there, he and I were inseparable.  He was studying art there.  I forgot he had school and he did too, I think.

He heard I was coming to Mexico again and so we agreed to meet in Campeche City.  He arrived after a 15 hour bus ride.  I proceeded to somehow convince him that we should leave Campeche City, rent a car and then head to Calakmul.  He had no idea what he was in for.

First of all, most cars here are stick shift.  I only know how to drive automatic (although I doubt that will be the case for long) so Gibran has had to drive the whole way, letting me practice on some open roads.

Second of all, we are camping in the middle of the jungle getting woken up by the horrid sounds of howler monkeys (all my idea, by the way).

My whole reason for wanting to go to Calakmul is because it isn´t just a natural preserve.  Deep inside the jungle there exists one of the most amazing Mayan ruins.  Calakmul is rumored to be one of the largest ancient Mayan cities with an estimated 60,000 habitants at its peak.  It has the tallest Mayan pyramid and more stellae than any other ancient Mayan site. Atop of this pyramid you can see its rival Tikal in the distance (with binoculars).  In addition it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

More adventures to come in the coming days when I have a moment to get to a computer but until then remember that:  La vida es un placer.  Life is a pleasure. Besitos!

I Miss No One.

I saw this couple arguing at the mall
one of those fights that no one wins
the kind that saps up all your energy
then leaves it there in that moment trapped
with no release
like a clenched fist
that you forgot you could unhinge

I thought about her
expecting apologies
I thought about him
frustrated to the brim

Maybe it doesn´t work
Maybe it never did
Oh the messes we get ourselves in

We learn to be like spiders
weaving our lives so tightly knit
then we forget we are spiders
and act as though flies in other nets
in other lives
then we can´t seem to understand
how we got bit

I stare into the horizon
one of those where you can´t
tell where the sky ends and the ocean begins

The full moon, she gazes
first at the water
then at me
and seems to gleam approvingly

I stare into the most beautiful Mexican sky
you ever did see
My toes caress the soft sand
leaving little etches; footprints of where I´ve been
as though a spider´s thread
to not forget her home
oh..the places I´ve roamed

I miss no one.
There is no familiar little ache
in my heart
No phantom organ syndrome
from being apart
No version of Wish You Were Here
ringing in my head
ringing in my ears

There´s just me and me alone
then there´s me keeping me company
Grateful to the moon, stars, sand
and this place...
The Ocean for her calm grace
To my heart
that pumps solid and strong alone
To my spider,
the one who´s learned
lessons of weaving in and out
effortlessly
and always leaving a trace of silk
back home.

The Mayan Legend of Sac Nik Té

This is a legend I learned about on my visit to the ruins of Uxmal.  I resonated with the Mayan princess, Sac Nik Té and have taken small liberties with the legend as it was told to me.  I hope you enjoy it.

I stared at the House of Turtles under a full moon.  Uxmal - the sacred land of abundance.  We are a university city.  The teachers wear turtle shells on their chests as a testament to their longetivity.  One must be at least 50 years old to teach here.

I am Sac Nik Té, White May Flower.

I am to be married here in three days to a prince from Mayapan to strengthen the alliance with Uxmal, but I am love with the prince from Chichen Itzá.

My prince is a brave warrior of the Toltec-Maya city of sacrifice - Chichen Itzá.  I spend my nights sleepless praying to the moon goddess, Ixchel to give me the strength and will to forget my dear prince from Chichen and to marry the prince from Mayapan, a testament to my people and my love to them.  A righteous sacrifice for them.

This ambivalence keeps me roaming the governors palace in search of solace.  I haunt the courtyards at night pacing as my heart battles my mind and my mind only exists as the swallows above flying circles amidst a night sky.  I stare at the Great Temple, dedicated to Chaac, and think about how his power lives inside my eyes that swell with his grace - the same way the clouds swell before he sends down water.

"Shh..." I whisper to my busy mind and unsettled heart and fast asleep I fall.

The wedding day has arrived.  There's fresh rabbit meat for all to eat and bulché for them to drink until they are full.  Evening has come and the public is joyous and drunk at the union of I, Sac Nik Té and the prince from Mayapan.  I hear warrior cries in the distance.  It is my dear prince from Chichen and seventy-five of his feircest warriors.  Our city is no match for them now that we are fed so well and drunk.  I am taken into his arms as the city cries and wails.  I go willingly and do not struggle against my prince´s hard chest.  My heart sings.  My mind remains heavy, tortured and burdened by the cries of my people. 

As I run into the night with my love at my side I cry for my people.  This is the beginning of bloodshed.  Mayapan and Uxmal will retaliate against Chichen Itzá.  Peace will not exist,  Many will die.  We do not return to neither Chichen or Uxmal but remain lost forever in our love and in peace in the jungles of the peninsula.

My heart will never live in peace.  I have forsaken my people.  Kukulcan, Chaac, Ixchmal!!  What horrors have I done?!  What heavy a price is paid for love.

At times, I stare across at my brave prince thinking it was all worth it to lie at his side, but I am no goddess for whom lives should be sacrificed.  I am merely Sac Nik Té, White May Flower and have only wanted peace for my people but now there shall exist none.  My people are at war as is my heart and mind.  I shall remain in these jungles in exile for the rest of my life.

Day 7: The Jungle

I am staying in some bungalows in the middle of the jungle along the Ruta Puuc.  I came in yesterday in the afternoon and fell asleep in the hammock outside and awoke to about twenty mosquito bites and darkness through the trees while the sounds of exotic birds and insects that I didn´t recognize buzzed around me.

Angry at myself for wasting time sleeping during daylight and for not bringing any bug spray or a flashlight I decided not to waste a day and go into the town even though it was far.  I walked a kilometer or more into the small town.  The night road was a little unsettling with the unfamiliar noises and the unfamiliar trees looming over me.  Luckily it´s almost a full moon.  That was enough to provide sufficient light to town.  I had no idea where I was going really because I´m not the type of girl who is into looking at maps and what not so I relied on my ears, which I thought were leading me to the center of town but low and behold they led me to a high school marching band.  Ridiculous as I felt, in a tiny non-tourist town watching twelve students play drums with nothing else around I asked for directions.

I got to the church and met another couple looking completely out of place.  They were from Belgium.  The man´s spanish was decent but I helped him get the next day´s bus schedule anyway.  He asked me if I was travelling alone.  I told him yes.  He then asked: isn´t it a bit....lonely?

I hadn´t really thought about it that way...

I pretty much have to hitchhike everywhere...cept I have to slip people some pesos for the ride.  There isn´t very good public transportation and thank God I speak the language.  I don´t quite know if I´d manage here without it.

Uxmal today.  Campeche tomorrow.  More pictures soon.

Tales from the Ocean, Part II

Part I

I tried to go into the ocean yesterday.  I´d go in halfway, water coming up to my waist and then the waves would crash over me hard and I´d remember the Ocean´s power, her sheer strength.  Fearfully, I´d back out again into the safety of the sandbank.

Friends would say I am an adventurous person.  There are few things I fear, but I guess there is something to be said for almost dying and then going straight to the one who almost drowned you, asking for a soft embrace.  The waves crash over me again and I am remembering my body twisting and flipping violently in ways I never thought possible while I, thinking that this was the end, fought for my life against the strength of Her just to see the blue of the sky once more.

I thought I was going to die in that moment.  I know now that I was blessed by her.  She taught me a powerful lesson that day.  She spared my life. 

As though saying:

Don´t you dare ever underestimate my power or even for a second think that you, mere human, are stronger than me.

Go forth my child.  I spared your life.  Now spare mine.

After that trip last April the news of BP´s oil spilll hit.  For months we mere consumers watched, completely helpless, as oil spilled out into the Golf of Mexico.  We watched the helpless seabirds die covered in oil and pray that an end to this would come soon.

She´d haunt me in my dreams: Your move, Jen...

I kept thinking about hurricanes and tsunamis...something´s gotta give.  She will retaliate.  We should not underestimate her.

Now, I sit in front of her, watching waves crash over, seabirds fishing, the white foam of the ocean gently caressing the sandbank before retreating.

I am so scared.  All at once a breeze blows and the shore becomes a series of white water.

El Cuyo, Mexico

I am here.

Not the calm waters I met five years ago...

I came to this beach in particular because five years ago I came here.  These were the most tranquil waters I´d ever seen.  I would swim here in the middle of the night.  I´d run my hands under water and could see every single ripple.  Of course I came here in the month of July then and I guess the ocean is different in January.

These are not the waters I was ever so politely introduced to five years ago, nor is there a beautiful boy with green eyes and the most gorgeous body you ever did see from Veracruz courting me on this beach as there was then, but I had a boyfriend.  I always had a boyfriend.  Gorgeous boy is married and living in Veracruz now.

Be here now.  My initial theme for this journey.  What a lesson that is: coming back here and finding that the paradise of my mind is cloudy and the waves too great to swim in.  You can´t go back to recreate moments from your past.  There is only here and now.

That being said, my time in Merida is up and I´m changing plans and heading somewhere I´d never been before.  Time to fly, but also be present while flying. :)

As for making peace with the Ocean...that story is to be continued...

Merida: Day 2

Okay so I know I said on rule number 4 on A Girl´s Backpacking Guide that one shouldn´t drink when they are backpacking.  I also know I may have posted several pictures on Facebook last night of Banderas (these delightful shots that are the colors of the Mexican flag which include lime juice, tomato juice and TEQUILA), HOWEVER if you are with family you haven´t seen in five years, it´s TOTALLY OKAY because you´re not wandering around ALONE which was the speculation under which I wrote that guide.

Aside from the drinks, I am in awe of the architecture here.  I am wishing I were a better photographer.  I am obsessed with the large wooden doors that are massively tall and make every building feel like it´s a convent.  Even better when they are slightly delapidated. 

I am in love with wandering the streets of this city, but I am longing to be closer to the elements so I´m heading to this tiny little fisherman´s town for the weekend.  It´s very quaint and the whole town naps outside of their houses on their hammocks in the afternoon.  All they eat there is fish!  It´s a virgin beach still with little tourism and my cousin and I are going to have an amazing little weekend eating fresh seafood and swimming in the ocean while working on our tans. 

Everyone stares at me here and I´m convinced it´s because of my Casper-like complexion.  They almost seemed relieved when I explain that I´m from Chicago and we only see the sun for three months a year.  It´s like they found out I don´t have some crazy disease that makes me look like a vampire or something.

Merida: Day One

I have no idea what time it is and I have no idea why that bothers me so much, but it does.  I spent the whole morning walking trying to orient myself in this old city.  I got lost four times already and have been here for less than two full days. 

It´s rainy, wet and humid here.  I´m glad I didn´t stay in Cancun yesterday.  After flight delays in Chicago (thank you snow) I got to Cancun around 3p.m.  I was supposed to have landed at noon...I decided to go ahead with my original plan and go to Merida directly.  After customs and baggage claim and a bus to downtown Cancun I barely made the 5p.m. bus to Merida.  I checked into a cute hotel with a gorgeous garden and pool.  It´s simple, quaint and absolutely charming. 

I think I decided on my theme for this trip:  it´s called BE HERE NOW.  This morning I went to the Zocalo (main town square) and had some famous Yucatan coffee while reading the paper.  The headline was about an increase in prostitution in this state due to the number of women with children abandoned by their husbands.  I wonder where the men go.  To the U.S.?

I was in Oaxaca this past April eating dinner with my friend when a young woman approached us handing us condoms, no less, asking for a donation to help educate the public on the prevention of HIV and AIDS.  I asked her if HIV was very prevalent in Mexico thinking that its conservative religious culture might at least help in the prevention of the spread of this pandemic.  She responded that HIV was more prevalent now because the men would leave ¨al norte¨ (up north...to the U.S.) and come back home to their wives with the disease and pass it on to them.

I remember reading an article in Chicago about this very thing except many men mentioned in the article were bisexual or homosexual and living ¨on the downlow¨ because of the potential social stigma implied by their preference.  They had unprotected sex with other men and then passed on the disease to their wives.

Anyway, back to here.  The town is quiet today.  It´s a cloudy Wednesday and I am drinking coffee watching the high school kids in their white collared shirts hustle off to school while old men in large hats hang out across the street with their shoe shining kit.  I was sitting here at this same cafe four and half years ago.  I can´t help but feel that this city feels different.  I don´t know if it´s me or Merida.  Things seemed much more lively then.

Mexico has been hit hard - tourism - it´s biggest industry is fighting to keep the cities clean and safe but as the economy worsens and government is consumed by fighting against the drug cartels, tourism is getting hit harder.  The bad press isn´t helping, nor is the excessive violence plaguing the country.

Still I´m happy to be here.  I am happy to wander the streets and trip over cobblestone and smile at the old men and women saying ¨buenos dias.¨  Everything tastes better here right down to the Diet Coke or in this case, Coca Cola Light.  I am in awe of the colonial architecture this city is famous for.  I stood in front of a small church for twenty minutes straight today (it seemed that long but I have no sense of time here) completely still, consumed with the detail.

A Girl’s Backpacking Guide

Okay, I leave tomorrow.  I’m less anxious, more active today, although still very sick.  I figure this cold should be gone in a couple of days so I’m not postponing my leave date.

As I’m packing, I thought it’d be wise to share some backpacking secrets especially for the young women that plan to take backpacking trips at some point.

1. Get a knife.  I have a gorgeous Swiss Army knife that I take with me on all of my trips.  Not only is it useful for protection but I use it all the time.  I use it to cut the fresh mangoes I buy at local markets.  I use it to cut the thread on the hem of my skirt that’s come undone.  I sleep with it under my pillow at hostels where I’m sharing rooms sometimes (hey you never know).  Anyway, it just comes in handy, plus you feel empowered to protect yourself and walk around with less fear, which in itself, helps prevent any sticky situations allowing you more confidence. 
2. Walk around like you know where you’re going, no matter how much you might stick out in the crowds.  Be confident.  Don’t be afraid to smile at strangers and enjoy the sights but don’t walk around like a deer in headlights.  That “lost” look attracts not only people coming to sell you things but also people that might want to take advantage of you.
3. Pack a solid first aid kit.  Include bandages, hydro cortisone cream, disinfecting cream etc.  Anything you would need to take care of yourself after cuts or rashes caused by allergic reactions.
4. Don’t drink alcohol.  I know it seems counter-intuitive considering you are on vacation and want to have a good time but this isn’t your neighborhood pub where everyone knows you and you can stumble on home safe and sound afterwards.  This is another country.  Be responsible.  If you must drink stick to beer and keep an eye on it at all times.  I suggest not drinking.  You’re in a new country…why dull your senses? 
5. Be open to new experiences.  So you've never seen women breast feed in public – don’t gawk.  See it for what it is and move on.  So you hate the way the men look at you in this country.  Don’t over analyze it, accept it and move on.  Talk to strangers.  Make new friends.  Practice the language.  Learn to say hello and thank you and please and nice to meet you. 
6. You are not here to change the world.  You’re here to witness it and stand in awe of it.  Maybe you have more formal education than those in the country that you are visiting.  Maybe you think you can teach them about feminism and change aspects of their culture with your “enlightened” perspective.  Newsflash: there’s a reason you are visiting this country and it’s not to change the very culture you’re attracted to viewing firsthand.   Leave it at home.  Sit and observe without judgment and walk with humility.  You may find that your experience with a new culture teaches you more than you expected. 
7. When in Rome, do as the Romans.  If it is uncommon for women to visit taverns alone in this country, then don’t.  It doesn't matter that it's entirely appropriate back at home.  If it is inappropriate for you to shake hands as a greeting then kiss everyone hello. One time I was in a rural part of Mexico quite homesick and I went to a bar to have a beer and write in my journal.  I was dirty, wearing awful clothing I’d been travelling in for weeks and every man stared at me and kept harassing me.  There were no women in the bar.  The men kept trying to talk to me and I was not having it.  I later found out that going into a bar as a woman alone in this part of town meant that you were a prostitute looking for clients.  Oops! 

Have fun.  Meet new people.  Explore history and culture.   Smile a lot.  Watch your back.  Carry a knife.  Be safe.

Choose your own adventure series: Mexico.

In this case, it's choose my adventure really...

I’m nervous about my upcoming trip – nervous because I leave in two days and I’m terribly sick with a cold.  Worse than that, despite having the time to do so, I still haven’t managed to plan out my trip or route.  I have an idea of the activities I’d like to do but haven’t planned those out either.

Who gets anxious about her vacation? Moreover, who gets anxious about a trip she is taking by herself strictly for herself?  I do!! I do!!

I was telling a friend about this and she suggested I pick a theme for the trip and focus on the theme throughout my activities.

Perhaps one could be investigating Mayan spiritual practices, both past and present.  Maybe I could go out there, fancy myself a journalist and then write about what I find.  I could visit temazcales, ask to speak to the village’s medicine men and write a perspective on the ways of the Mayan healing.

Or maybe I dedicate the journey to sensual pleasures (non-sexual ones, pervs).  I could do a journey of the senses taking in the delicious scenery, the beautiful food, the sensation of hot sand beneath my feet or the cooling of an ocean breeze blowing softly past my salty arms. 

Another interesting theme might be the people.  I could try and meet as many people as possible and write their stories of hope, despair, life lessons and joys.  Through their voices on my journey I might find one that uniquely resembles my own…

So what do you, dear reader, think I should do? 

A spiritual journey through the investigation of ancient indigenous customs?  Indulgence of the senses through bodily pleasures in one of the world’s most beautiful of places? Or a character study of culture in Mexico’s Yucatan peninsula?

Please post your comments or suggestions below.  Here is a map of where I will be.  I have fifteen days there.  I leave in two.

Quintana Roo and Yucatan state are on the agenda.  I am not leaving Mexico and only heading to Campache is there if time.

A Kinda, Sorta Relationship

I’ve been talking to a lot of my friends lately about relationships and men (a usual topic of conversation for a 20-something females). 

There has been this trend to have ambiguous relationships with men that defies social standards or definitions for many of my friends.  Example being that new Natalie Portman and Ashton Kutcher flick.

This is not an endorsement.  I haven't even seen this.

Are these relationships the ones that will define our 20-something generation?  Are we going to be telling our grandchildren, “well, your grandpa and I were never an item if you know what I mean – he was just around the neighborhood a lot…that is until your father came along..then we had to get more serious.”

Your future grandkid: “ what did he do in the neighborhood, grandma?”

You: “Bring grandma some more whiskey and I’ll tell you all about it…”

This is going nowhere good….

I have mixed feelings about the ambiguous relationships.  The hippie in me wants to think let’s all be free and just be who want to be without needing to define anything.  Then there comes this very traditional voice I recognize saying friends don’t cross certain lines. 

Like most things without structure and rules, it’s gotten complicated.  My friends gush over their wine discussing their ambivalence between being free or attached and how the happy medium they’ve stumbled into isn’t so happy.  It’s complex; it’s this dark terrain where there are no maps and guides to get them out safely.  Oh and let’s not even get started on the emotional turmoil.  It’s like constant purgatory.  There’s no way out unless it’s back to friendship or a committed relationship.  

But my friends don’t want to be committed to a partner right now, nor will they commit to being alone.  They want to be free, yet they want the comfort of knowing that someone will hold them.  They want to date other people, yet want to have a good old stand by guy they can call when they feel lonely.  They want to not belong to anyone and yet feel a sense of belonging to someone when it’s convenient.

This is creating this hybrid of a friend and lover where you agonize over text messages or tones in voices but can’t ask what they meant because that would mean you’re disclosing some sort of emotion towards the other person that shouldn’t be there.  Also, emotions and feelings?  Where did those stupid things come from and why are they here now?  They have no place in this sort of arrangement.  They are not supposed to exist here in purgatory. 

Is it just human nature to not want to be alone?  Is there a certain validation we women feel to have a man stand next to us?  Is being alone, truly alone, such a dreadful circumstance that we can’t fully commit to it? Or are we just non-committal by nature?

FAILED: How to ruin your vacation in two seconds flat...

In less than ten days I will be somewhere in the Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico.

I’ve been thinking about this trip for a while – months.  Recently I’ve been reading  Eat Pray Love to get myself motivated for what looks like it is shaping up to be another solo journey.  I haven’t taken a trip by myself since I was 22 and I backpacked the Mayan Route in Southern Mexico.  It was a beautiful, spiritually enriching, and often, a lonely journey, but one I needed to make.

So of course, while I’m planning to take this trip with activities like swimming in the most beautiful cenotes only native to this region and hiking up some majestic pyramids, what do I do last night?

I think I broke my toe.  In the spirit of having wild backpacking adventures I choose to wrap some gauze and electrical tape (it was either this or duct tape) around the offending toe and limp around my apartment all day like nothing is wrong.  Sure, I could go to the doctor, but why?  He’ll only tell me something that I don’t want to hear like not to walk on it or to take it easy or something. 

This reminds me of the time I almost died from this crazy wave in the ocean (read that story here) and the first question I asked the doctor who was about to stitch my face up was:  “So when can I go back in?”  The doctor, slightly surprised at my question (which I guess might happen when you’re a young female foreigner that needs stitches on HER FACE) broke my heart by saying a whole seven days.  Seven days?!?  I wasn't about to hang around a sleepy beach town where I can't go to its only attraction for seven days!

Conclusion: doctors are stupid and unnecessary.  Disclaimer: my scar healed quite beautifully and you can barely tell now…but that’s irrelevant.  We’re talking about my toe here…

Pain is nothing.  I will still snorkel, dive and hike around one of Mexico’s most beautiful states.  Did you know that the average temperature for Merida right now is 84 degrees?  Did you also know that I live in Chicago?

It should be better by the time I leave, right?

The most outrageous and challenging New Year's resolution.

I am going to date myself and fall in love with myself.  That's right.  I am going to love the hell out of every tiny little freckle on my face.  I am going to adore the callouses on my feet from too much time spent walking and wandering.  I am going to laugh joyfully at all of my supposed mistakes in the wake of them and accept without judgement.  I am going to be my own best friend, mother, child and lover.  

Here are some ideas as to how:

• Following my heart even when it’s difficult given societal pressure by colleagues, friends or family.
• Being courageous.
• Taking the higher road and often times, the harder path.
• Traveling alone and allowing myself moments of bliss surrounded by the world’s beauty because I’m worth it.
• Cooking myself gourmet meals, even if I’m setting the table for one.
• Dancing without regard for anyone else’s perceptions.
• Playing more music.
• Making more art.
• Reading more.
• Drinking more tea.
• Living in the moment.
• Not defining myself by anything for anyone.
• Owning my own acceptance.
• Dedicating myself to a regular yoga practice because I love my body.
• Giving back to others.
• Remembering that this world is absolutely beautiful and so am I.

Namaste.