He's rather fine.
I spent Saturday evening watching La Punta's glorious sunset.
(which is also kind of nice)
And then Jo and I made the two minute trek from The Sanctuary to Casa Kei.
Where we found Pepe lighting a fire and preparing all the ingredients for tlayuda and chicken. The pozole lady (ANOTHER LADY!) had brought over a pot full of spicy hominy and the Scottish volunteer had already mashed up a gorgeous bowl of guac.
Which I tested for her. Liberally. Several times.
We were invited to "salut" with shots of tequila chased with lime and salt (or lime, coffee and sugar). As I'm accustomed to drinking at elevation, I found myself utterly agog -- totally f*cking bewildered -- when I was able to down four shots and still not feel much at all.
I'd be plastered in Colorado. But here? Wow. I'm not even tipsy enough to make Jo do acro yoga with me.
My aussie friend and I stumbled (she was a bit more stumbly than me...) back to the Sanctuary and climbed into our respective beds, filled to bursting with delicious Mexican food and warm all over from laughing so hard (Jo gets all sorts of scandalous when she's tipsy on tequila. And she may very well be on par with the most hilarious people of all time ever).
WHY IS SHE LEAVING ME?
And yesterday...
Yesterday may very well have been on par with life's most perfect yesterdays of all time ever.
(from the perspective of this particular life)
In the top twenty, at the very least.
It was one of those days that flowed in perfect seamlessness, one splendid, vivid moment into the next.
Yesterday was like a symphony.
A symphony of good coffee, beautiful people, idyllic beaches, enchiladas, chocolate, acro yoga and spur of the moment solstice ceremonies.
All I'm missing is cheese.
Yesterday was my first day off. As a friend I met in Colorado at an acro yoga immersion happened to be in the neighboring town of Mazunte, I decided to coerce Minerva (it wasn't all that hard) to join me for a day of Bill and acrobatics.
I woke up tingling with excitement. I'm a morning person, and tingling with excitement is generally my morning MO, but I was extra tingly yesterday morning.
I get to FLY today! I haven't flown since I left Colorado. Not on feet, anyway. And Bill is eight million times better than any airplane. Even though Turkish airlines give you free Turkish delight... Yes. Bill is eight million times better than Turkish delight.
Being the coffee lady that I am (and as tremendously fond of Casa Kei as I am), I dropped by Pepe's friendly jungle establishment for a cup of coffee to enhance my morning tingles. Then Minerva and I ambled to the end of the main road and flagged down a bus bound for Mazunte. We arrived at an OXXO outside of the city about an hour later and caught a cab into the city itself.
"This is where all the hippies live," Minerva informed me as we passed vegetarian/vegan cafes and restaurants, signs for shamanic healing and yoga trainings and all sorts of shops selling excessively baggy pants (the best kind of pants).
We met my friend at one of the moderately hippie cafes (there was still meat on the menu and only 70% of the baristas boasted dreads.
Why is randomly meeting someone you know from somewhere else such an exciting experience?
You get to see them in another world. I only know the Bill I met in Boulder. We were partnered up once during the immersion and he was patient and playful enough to base me in the park a time or two. We had drinks and talked about travel... but interactions were fairly limited.
Now I get to see Bill in Mexico. Both of us are out of our element (but being out of my element is quickly turning into my element). What kind of person will I see here? In such a different place under such different circumstances? What kind of person will HE see?
We ate breakfast at the moderately hippie cafe and then walked up and over a hill and to a beautiful beach on the other side.
It seems as if beautiful beaches are up and over every hill.
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| Minerva. |
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| Who needs coconut water in a can? AH. Mexico is spoiling me. I'll never be able to drink canned coconut water again. Just like France spoiled me for cheese and Italy ruined me for cured meats. |
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| A collectivo. Mexico's taxi/bus system. |
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| Minerva and Bill |
It boggles my mind that these beaches are so empty. I'm sort of a newbie when it comes to ocean beaches, but I've seen my fair share of Mediterranean real estate -- from Barcelona, Spain to Kotor, Montenegro.
One thing all that real estate had in common?
Throngs of roasting people.
But here?
Where is everyone?
The coastline of Oaxaca may be relatively deserted, but it offers most everything I like.
Such as chocolate.
Very, very delicious chocolate.
And ceviche.
(even though I abstained from raw fish and chose to demolish a prodigious plate of enchiladas con salsa verde. I'm saving the ceviche for when Troy comes to visit)
Even though prodigious plates of enchiladas and acro yoga do not normally go hand in hand, Bill was awesome enough (I get the feeling that Bill makes a habit of being awesome) to base Minerva and me for a couple of hours.
I'm still smiling.
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| Watching someone do something they never imagined themselves doing is one of the best parts of acro. Minerva laughed and squealed and exclaimed nearly enough to rival me. Which is an awful lot of happy. |
As Minerva and Bill had shared a normal plate of ceviche (as opposed to singlehandedly devouring a prodigious plate of enchiladas), they stopped for a snack and an agua fresca.
I cupped my enchilada belly and moaned quietly to myself.
Never. Again. Oof. Enchiladas... I feel like you ought to be in my belly right now... I mean, it certainly LOOKS like you're in my belly right now... but it seems as if you've somehow developed the ability of being in two places at the same time. You magic, Mexican enchiladas, you. You're definitely in my stomach. But you've definitely relocated to my lungs, too.
Then we continued to Mazunte's "punta".
Which is one of westerly Mexico's most easterly puntas.
And it's the punta wherein, in times long gone, indigenous people sacrificed virgins on the shortest day of the year.
And probably other days.
"What, it's the shortest day? Bring out your virgins!"
"What, it's the longest day? Bring out your virgins!"
"What, it hasn't rained in eight weeks? Bring out your virgins!"
But now locals and tourists alike have decided it best to conserve their virgins and just burn incense and dance about with shaky things and feathers.
Minerva danced with a borrowed shaky thing.
I was still feeling enchiladas in my lungs, so I took pictures and plopped down next to un perro on the prickly grass.
Minerva and I caught the bus back into La Punta and ate some tiny tortillas at a restaurant up the way and to the left. Then Jo and I wandered back to Pepe's for some chocolate and conversation before I finally admitted that it was time for the most perfect day of all time ever to become the most perfect yesterday of all time ever.
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