La Vida es Simple -- Puerto Escondido, Mexico

I'm starting this post from the checkered table of Casa Kei. It's the first of the year, so most of Pepe's guests are still abed (probably working through hangovers and cursing the roosters).

"Pinchos gallos..."

Pepe lights a fire to grill the rest of his marinated chicken wings. A wind chime tinkles softly and the breeze makes the piranha-esque cloth fish hanging from the second story of Pepe's treehouse circle round and round.

What a full year I've had. And how unexpected that I ended up in Mexico for the beginning of 2015. I was meant to be on my way to India at this point... yeah. The plan I designed in 2012 whilst working at Hand Up Homes for Youth had me finishing up my time in Nepal and moving south to search for warmth. Plans. Baha. 

Then Janet got married. 

And I ended up in Mexico. 

Goal for 2015? Allow plans to come and go. With a good sense of humor. And gratitude for a life that's so full of surprises. 

2014 was full of surprises.

Discovering how much I love thai massage and therapeutics.

Leading a yoga retreat on Vis Island for a month. And somehow rocking it.

Hitchhiking around the Balkans for five weeks. And not quite rocking it, but definitely surviving and learning how to relaja my raja.

Falling in love with a country. Slovenia. I will live in you for an extended period of time. This will happen. Prepare yourself. I will have all of your remarkably friendly inhabitants upside-down and talking about themselves in third-person.

And meeting another person with whom I can imagine a future. This hasn't happened to me in a long, long time. I'm the kind of lady who operates best with deadlines. I only allow myself romance if I have a plane ticket in my pocket. And if a partner mentions a future together, I emotionally start to withdraw. For fear of hurting them. For fear of hurting me.

Deadlines diminish my fear.

But then I met a person who destroyed my fear entirely.

And now, in 2015, I'm finally imagining a future that includes someone else.

Weird. So, so weird. What a beautiful, disorienting, worldview shifting surprise. 

But now? This moment in Mexico?

I'm jamming on the beach with Pepe's guests and with friends from The Sanctuary.

Seeing fear and confusion turn into astonished excitement is... oh man... the best. 

But even though seeing this transition is immensely satisfying...

... it's also incredible fatiguing.

"I'm becoming a simple old man," I confided in Pepe the other day. "I don't like to party. I like to go to bed early and to wake up early enough to watch the sunrise. Then girl likes to nap."

I did some real work yesterday.

Finally.

Pepe asked if I could glue some tiles to a pole outside of the hostel.

I enjoyed every moment of hammering and glueing and puzzling the pieces together.

This is the sort of thing I could be doing at The Sanctuary... but I wouldn't be enjoying it NEARLY as much there. Same activity... but what makes the enjoyment factor so different? 

Just then Pepe came out with a coconut.

"Que onda?"

("Que onda?" is the Spanish equivalent of "what's up?" I never know what to say to this question in English and that hasn't changed with the Spanish version. I am never doing, "nothing", or "nada", but I know that's what people expect to hear. So in English, I just turn it back on them and ask, "how are you?" In Spanish, I just pretend that I don't understand)

I stepped back to look at my work.

"Oh, I really like it!" Pepe exclaimed.

I smiled and wiped the sweat from my brow with my cement covered hands, thus transferring cement to forehead like the classy lady I am.

(wiping sweat from brows implies hard work where I come from. But it just implies being alive in Mexico)

"For your work," he handed me the coconut.

THAT is what makes the difference. A thank-you and a coconut. Not a "Oh, and would you finish sweeping the palapa after you're done here? And did you eat the nuts I was saving in the fridge?" 

God. 

I worked on the pole for a few hours, then strolled into town to purchase some peanut butter.

Peanuts... how I adore you. In all of your forms. 

I peeled and sliced a fresh papaya and mango (the best mango I've ever had. By far) and Pepe slashed some coconuts with his manly machete. Then he topped them up with rum.

I approved.

A lot.

And we walked down to the beach to watch the sunset.

I fail at drinking water from coconuts. I dribble the deliciousness all over myself and get very, very sad indeed. I think that Mexicans have evolved lips with greater puckering capabilities than the rest of us poor dribblers. I nearly made it to the bottom of my coco, but after soaking my left thigh in alcohol, I looked at my rum and coconut smelling sarong with remorse and handed my coconut over to Pepe. "I can't get anything else out of it. You try." 

The last sunset of 2014.

New goal for life. Be in a different country for the final sunset of each year. 

And never, NEVER be inside for the sunset. 

Mmm... be near water for the final sunset of each year. There's just something so refreshing... so rejuvenating... so simple about sitting and watching the sun's reflection rippling on the water. 

And share the sunset with someone who appreciates it as much as you do. 

We meandered back to Casa Kei (it was the first time Pepe "meandered" faster than me. And that was only because he was desperate to use the toilet) and after a bit of hullaballoo procuring charcoal, Pepe lit a fire and began barbecuing his marinated chicken wings.

This is the life. 

"La vida es simple," Pepe is fond of saying. "No need to complicate it."

Nope. No need at all. Chicken, ocean sunsets and coconut with rum. Good enough for this lady. 

Circle of goodness.

We sat around the checkered table and drank/dribbled coconut water and chewed on chicken thighs. I even tried a spicy sauce made out of enlarged ant butt.

Of course, I wasn't told the sauce was made of enlarged ant butt until I'd already finished raving about how delicious it was.

Who knew ant butts could be that delicious on marinated chicken wings? 

Pepe's guests went out dancing.

Pepe and I hugged each other goodnight and went to bed.

"We can go into Zicatela tomorrow to watch the sunrise and laugh at all the drunk people."

"That sounds perfect. I'll have the coffee ready at 5:45."

I crawled into my tent and passed out. Like the simple old man I am.

I crawled out of my tent at 5:30 to make a pot of coffee. Like the simple old man I am.

Then Pepe and I caught a collective into Zicatela. To laugh at drunk people.

Like the terrible people we are.

There was much laughter. Zicatela was full of passed out singles, dry humping couples (I couldn't bring myself to photograph their very public way of welcoming in the new year) and wobbly drunks hunched over their morning hamburgers

I think I prefer being a simple old man. 

Goal for 2015? 

Let life be simple. 

And try to live by this poem. As much as you can, anyway...

If I could live my life again.
Next time, I would try to make more mistakes.
I would not try to be so perfect, I would relax more.
I would be sillier than I have been.
I would take fewer things seriously.
I would be less fastidious.
Accept more risks, I would take more trips,
Contemplate more evenings,
Climb more mountains, and swim more rivers...
I would go to more places where I have not been,
Eat more ice cream and fewer beans.
I would have more real problems and less imaginary ones.
I was one of those people who lived
sensibly and meticulously every minute of their life.
Of course I have had moments of happiness.
But if I could go back in time, I would try to
have good moments only,
and not waste precious time.
I was someone never went
anywhere without a thermometer, a
hot water bag, an umbrella
and a parachute. If I could live again,
I would travel more frivolously.
If I could live again, I would begin
to walk barefoot at the beginning of the spring
and I would continue to do so until the end of autumn.
I would ride more merry-go-rounds,
I would contemplate more evenings and I would play
with more children.
If I could have another life ahead.
But I am 85 years old you see, and I know that I am dying.

~Nadine Stair