Finding Myself in Mexico: Part VI

    Finding myself at another crossroads, and I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not that this isn’t a reference to the 2002 smash hit Britney film. Rather, I’ve finished another week-long stay at the new place I set myself up with in the Bacocho/Rinconada neighborhood. It was the quiet, secluded spot I was looking for, even though the partying aspect of this trip went into full swing as I made the transition. I should have known better that it would take a little bit of time for me to fall in with a group of people who I would win over with my shining, drunken personality. Oh the wonders of liquor and drugs! But alas, my week long binge has come to a painful crash as my 32 year old body grinds through it’s aging gears, finding the mezcal to be an inadequate lubricant. Perhaps the time is overdue for the yoga and surfing portion of this retreat to start. Before that happens though, I am jumping at the invitation to join one of my new friends on a bit of a southerly journey. Making friends with people who have friends in the right places is always a stroke of luck! 

    Before we make that voyage to Zipolite and the gay beaches of Mexico, lets travel back in time to the past couple of days (which have felt like weeks). I have come to the conclusion that the motto of Puerto Escondido - “Why not” - is apptly fit for the overall mood. Whenever you run into a person you know, a new person who lives here, or someone just arriving, the air of endless possabilities swirl amongst you and opportunities run rampant. Each day offers a few guarantees: You will gather on the beach at sunset; someone will have the inside scoop for the night’s party; you will make a new friend. Other than that, we are flying by the seat of our pants. I find some stability in those who work during the week and have to go into hiding a few hours a day to gather their productivity, less a new stranger pulls them into their orbit of fun. Those people full of concentration give me refuge to slink away to the dark of my room or the canopied coffee houses to lose myself in the calm. But once the plans start to come into motion, the response is inevitably: “Why not”. 

    In that regard, I have made choices to join in party favors that I have said no to for an entire decade; I have danced on sandy beaches to rave music that did absolutely nothing for my artistic sensibilities; I’ve allowed strange men to wrap their legs around me and hang off the back of my moped as we scraped along the pockmarked roads; more than one bottle of liquor has been poured down my throat, over my chin, and soaked into my shirt; I have accepted peer pressure to be the driving force of my days decisions, something I haven’t done since my formative years as a 20 something in NYC. And all because… “why not”? 

    A strange sense of guilt seems to come over me when I list this few things I’ve felt like sharing while venturing in this quiet, but plentiful party city. I don’t know why. Is it because in doing all these things I have let go of the responsibilities I felt were necessary in building my life back together after divorce? Because I have not worked out in 3 weeks and see my body reverting back to its bumpy challah bread shape? Or perhaps because I look into my bank account and watch as the number slowly diminishes, and each day at an alarmingly increased rate? Yes. All of these things. But as those who have been here for one year, four months, or even 6 days say: “Why not”. I have come this far in life - pinching pennies, making sacrifices for a life that seemed the right one to live, bleeding myself emotionally dry in the fight to always make the right choice - so why shouldn’t I just let go and try out the other ways to life? I always worried the grass was greener on the other side, but as it turns out, the grass is actually sand, and I couldn’t be more happy. 

    So as I continue this emotionally perturbed and optimistically selfish journey, I am getting more comfortable in letting go and just being; something we all need to try once in a while. And on the next page of this classic romp through a quarter-life crisis, I hope to be enlightened by the adventures that await as I jump on a bus with a complete stranger and make my way deeper into a country full of surprises that all take place in a language I barely speak. Until then!

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