A coffee machine Pepe has welcomed me to use whenever I feel the need.
Which is fairly often.
My body is feeling a bit taxed and I wake up tired every morning, but my eyes still creak open (like old garage doors) with as much enthusiasm as they can muster.
I get to watch a sunrise. And I get to teach yoga. And I get to walk over to the quesadilla place and meet with Pepe and maybe explore --
I'm loving getting to know my new environment. It's a community of specialties.
There's the tamale woman (whom I discovered today. And then nearly died of happiness).
There's the quesadilla woman (whose discovery also nearly resulted in my immediate, blissful demise).
There's that restaurant down the way and to the right that specializes in tlayuda.
There's a cafe down the way and to the left that serves organic coffee (almost as good as Pepe's) for 15 pesos. Plus one free refill. Plus cute kids running around. Plus good internet. Plus a screeching, obnoxious bird in a nearby tree who has appointed himself bearer of all avian gossip for the entire Oaxacan coastline.
I will be a regular. And I will eventually become fluent in avian screeching or quite thoroughly deaf.
Yesterday was magical. I'll be looking for words to describe yesterday for months, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to find them.
Minerva and I headed down to the beach to practice therapeutic flying as the sun rose over the palm trees to the east and the waves crashed against the sand to the west.
Minerva is the perfect flyer for me. She's light, tight, easy-going, has superb awareness of her body and is willing to play with me at 6:00 in the morning.
Which is something rather extraordinary, in and of itself.
What a perfect opportunity for me to work on my basing and teaching. Couldn't have asked for better.
After yoga class, smoothie and morning meeting, I spent an hour planning on an upcoming workshop and then met with Pepe for a quick trip into Puerto Escondido.
He introduced me to the Guatemalans staying at his hostel and served me a cup of coffee while I waited for him to tie up some loose strings around his hostel.
We caught a taxi into town, and I was only slightly surprised when two people (strangers) piled into a front seat that was definitely only built for one.
"We're in Mexico," Pepe commented as I laughed. "The only thing we're missing is the chicken."
As the only bit of Puerto Escondido I'd seen until yesterday had been the bus station, Pepe took me to
visit the local market after he'd finished his shopping.
He introduced me to his vegetable lady. As Pepe introduces many people who stay with him to his vegetable lady, she generally asks him, "Is this your wife?"
Pepe anticipated her question after he introduced me.
"She is another wife," he joked.
He introduced me to his chicken, meat, and fish vendors.
"When are you coming over for tlayuda's?" he asked as we left the market.
"Umm... if I don't volunteer for anything tomorrow night, we can make tlayuda then."
"Okay, let's get the ingredients now, then."
So we went to Pepe's tlayuda lady and he purchased what we needed for Mexican pizza.
"This is what I want. If I ever settle down, I want to have a cheese lady and a tlayuda lady and a vegetable lady... I want to know where everything comes from and to be friends with all the ladies."
I like that in my mind, they're all "ladies". I think I would be disappointed if I had to settle for a cheese dude or a vegetable man.
"Here, the woman who sells the chicken kills the chicken," Pepe said as we turned down the meet aisle.
 |
| I love it when people ask to have their photos taken. |
I waited with Pepe on his rooftop until the gong was due to ring for lunch at The Sanctuary.
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| I think I'd be happy to spend all day up here. Just watching. And listening. And maybe drinking coffee. |
And then continued on to the beach for an acro yoga jam.
The smiles.
The laughs.
The quizzical faces.
The surprised faces.
The gratitude.
The trust.
The confidence.
The communication.
The joy.
I could do this forever. Even though my body is sore just about everywhere from rushing into all this so quickly... acro is one of those activities that fills me with so much energy and passion that I can't be bothered with soreness or fatigue. Just like having my wisdom tooth pulled right before I got my tattoo put me into so much agony that I couldn't be bothered to feel the pain of the tattoo.
But in a more positive light. Obviously.
Noa and Pete and a guitar joined us on the beach right before sunset and we formed a circle and sang the sun down.
 |
| Yael. Love this girl. She gives me massages between basing different people and has offered to teach me to surf in exchange for all the yoga. That's something I find so beautiful about sharing a passion. Others receive it, love it, and offer you their passion in return. And there's nothing quite so inspiring as receiving something about which the giver can say, "This. This is where my life makes sense. This is how I'm happy." It's not just an invitation to learn a new skill. It's an invitation into their personal world of joy. |
How does it take that much out of me? Oof.
Some of the other volunteers had arranged an excursion to a nearby lagoon with glow in the dark plankton. My budget is not large (to say the least) and I was feeling weak all over. Adjusting to the new diet and schedule has not been easy (also, to say the least).
I'm sure that glow in the dark plankton are awesome and everything.... but man, it would be good to wait until next week. Or the next few days. Just until my body fully adjusts to all this work its doing and I'm able to have more energy in the evenings.
But the plankton are best seen without the light of the moon, the ride had been scheduled and excitement was already brewing in the rest of the volunteers.
Asking them to wait for a couple of weeks after getting this close would be like asking a kid to wait two weeks to eat the chocolate cake you just put right in front of him. Or me to wait, for that matter.
NOT okay.
So off we sped off to Laguna de Manialtepec, a mangrove lagoon located 18 km west of Puerto Escondido, for a night swim with bioluminescent plankton.
And it was one of the most magical things I've ever done.
And one of the experiences that will be with me forever.
I spent half an hour on wikipedia (and other reputable sites) researching how plankton manages to make itself glow, and discovered a plethora of gigantic words and confusing phrases.
Basically, the lagoon glitters right back up at the stars because this reaction occurs:
- dionflagellate luciferin + O2
oxidized dinoflagellate luciferin + H2O + hnu
I sat at the prow of the boat, wind rushing through my perpetually sandy hair and goose-pimpling my skin.
The night sky was bursting with stars. I threw my head back and tried to fall into them the way Michael showed me when we took the rowboat out into the Atlantic that one dark evening in Devon.
And lost ourselves entirely.
I lowered my gaze and experienced a moment of profound disorientation.
I'm still seeing the stars.
Luminescent fish jumped in and out of the glittering lagoon, splashing about as the boat's wake stirred up plankton from below.
Our guide turned off the engine and we drifted to a halt.
I jumped into the stars.
I then fulfilled my whimsical childhood fantasies of sending magic shooting through my fingers. With each movement, my body sent bits of light flying this way and that.
"It's like all those good luck things from James and the Giant Peach!"
How is this possible?
Minerva, Juan and Maria chatted away in Spanish, laughing and wriggling their fingers and toes.
I kept to myself.
Quietly.
Watching plankton slowly settle on my arms, legs, hands -- gazing in wonder and astonishment as my naked skin began to glow.
Fish swam between my legs, brushing against my ankles and thighs.
(I may or may not have screamed softly once or twice.)
Light bursting between my legs.
Exploding under me.
Enveloping me.
Clouds of glowing creatures mimicking the milky way.
The warm pockets of water suddenly turned cold. And then hot. And then cold again.
What a dynamic, living place.
When I climbed back into the boat, I dripped droplets of light.
When I grabbed my sweater in our dark dorm this morning, it sparkled with the few remaining pieces of plankton clinging to the fabric.
It's the next day.
And I'm still in a wonder induced daze.
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