The frozen yogurt here is sublime. I ordered a mediano combinado with cajeta (that Mexican caramel thing given to us by God to compensate for mosquitoes) and tiny chocolate chips.
The internet here is not possessed with a maniacal sense of humor.
Which is to say, it usually works.
The air conditioning here?
Best. Thing. Ever.
It's one thirty in the afternoon. The vast majority of the local population is either a) sweltering or b) swimming (soon to be sweltering).
I am in an air conditioned building eating frozen yogurt. For the REST OF THE AFTERNOON.
I refuse to go back outside until the temperature drops.
Girl's had enough of this humidity nonsense. For today, at least. I'll allowing myself an afternoon of being totally fed up.
Pinches humidity.
Pepe returned from Oaxaca City last night at around nine pm, bearing boxes of goodies purchased in this state's capital.
"It's like Christmas!" I squealed, seeing yoga mats sticking out of one of the cardboard boxes.
Pepe also bought a sort of wooden whisk. For frothing traditional Oaxacan hot chocolate. And a smaller version -- to be used in the smashing limes and mint and sugar for our every now and again (so many agains) mojitos.
A very productive trip.
Guests have been coming and going.
I'm deeply saddened to see some of them pack their bags and walk through Pepe's wooden gate.
Others?
Not so much.
(although this has certainly been the rarity. I get on with most of Pepe's guests like limes get on with cilantro)
Joy and Vajra have been guests at Casa Kei for over a week (they arrived hot on my juice fasting/cow shit burning heels), and seeing them walk through that wooden gate next week is going to break my hobo heart. I've already sworn to kidnap my boyfriend (surprise!) and take a road trip to visit them in California this spring.
'Cos Joy and Vajra are the kind of people I just want to have in my life forever.
Joy has the clearest blue eyes -- eyes which lock with mine whenever we speak.
I mean, I'm pretty okay at staring contests (thanks to all that Meisner in university), but Joy would hand me my chicatana backside on a silver platter if I ever challenged her.
This is one reason my blogging hasn't been so consistent lately.
a) heat makes my brain fuzzy. Fuzzy brain + blogging = nap. Complete with disgusting sweating and disgruntled snoring.
b) I've been spending far too much time Skyping my boy. Love that guy, but he's hella bad for my productivity.
c) When Joy or Vajra sit at the checkered table, I don't want my laptop to be out. I want to be looking into Joy's intense blue eyes. I want to give Vajra 100% of my attention as he casually drops a life-changing nugget of wisdom from his 30 odd years spent as a healer (like when the roosters crow and instead of saying cockadoodledoo, he shouts "GUACAMOLE!"). I want to be as present and engaged as they are.
Some people simply demand presence.
Stillness.
Focus.
Watching them sit in the outdoor plastic chairs at the checkered table, I feel how deeply comfortable these people are with and in themselves.
Being with a person who's comfortable with and in their own skin is a unique experience. Comfortable people express themselves in unconventional ways -- because they feel no need to conform to a norm. Comfortable people make jokes they think are funny -- not jokes they think you'll laugh at. Comfortable people engage in order to communicate -- not to impress.
I love comfortable people. I love how just sitting at this red and white checkered table with these comfortable people encourages me to reach a deeper place of comfort inside my own skin.
I hope I can touch someone like this one day.
The fighting roosters continue to crow across the road from Casa Kei. Vajra has tuned them out (sometimes they even play whimsical roles in his whimsical dreams). Pepe has tuned them out (although he still threatens them with immediate decapitation during the day. Every day. Multiple times every day).
I have not. Tuned them out.
The ants are building a colony inside the sugar jar. They will make so many diabetic ant babies.
The dogs continue to harass me as I walk up Calle Morellos at night.
I continue in my rapturous affair with the tlayuda. In fact, I've become so enamored of Mexican food, that I've eaten nothing but local cuisine since December 3rd. One of the guests shared a little bit of Asian food with me yesterday, and my tastebuds freaked the f*ck out.
"What is this? Oh man. PEANUT SAUCE? I don't.. know how... where's the chili? WHERE ARE THE TORTILLAS?"
I've been in Mexico for over a month.
Every day has included a tortilla. Or 7000.
The sun continues to blister down harshly.
I continue to feel deep satisfaction every time I pass The Sanctuary and remember that I'm not there.
I also experience deep satisfaction in my stark lack of guilt about leaving, err... slightly before my five month commitment had been fulfilled.
My yoga classes at Akumal hostel have given me a much needed outlet for my teaching passion. And a sense of purpose for my time spent in Puerto Escondido. I love wearing the treehouse pants at Casa Kei, but my last adventure through Europe really succeeded in convincing me that the sharing of yoga, massage and mindfulness meditations is my passion.
And I'm glad my passion has found a way into my life as a vagabond.
My yoga classes at Akumal hostel are small. I sometimes have three people. I sometimes have none. If no one shows, I simply roll the mat, return it to its home in the basket of the downstairs yoga room and walk the five minutes back to Casa Kei.
Or I journal/practice yoga to the sunrise.
Things could definitely be worse. They could be like when I was a part owner of that yoga studio in Grand Junction and taught the 6:00 am classes that only one lady showed up for. I was thrilled to death whenever she showed up (she was probably my favorite student ever. Yes. Teachers do have favorites. Deal with it), but whenever she didn't show... Well, I'd just woken up at four in the morning and biked about two miles in (sometimes) negative 10 degrees Fahrenheit for an empty class.
Rooftop yoga to an ocean sunrise in Mexico is certainly a step or seven thousand up.
Pepe drove me to a tiny beach during our coffee run to Puerto Escondido.
We picked up our kilo of coffee from Thomas and then Pepe dropped me off at Kühl.
Where I continue to sit.
Licking cajeta off my plastic spoon
Blessing all things air-conditioned
and checking out the french-kissing skeletons on the wall to my right.
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