I have been thinking a lot recently. No, actually! I’ve been thinking a great deal about the past five months, about the buildup to our journeys in Mexico this winter, the changes I have been through, as well as where we go from here. These are thoughts of encapsulation, at least for right now, because we will still be in Mérida for a month and things are always changing. This will be a longer piece than those I have written before; there is a lot to cover, and it takes more time than a few months and more than a couple thousand words to truly capture a person in transition. That said, please enjoy this summary.
As I went through the camera roll on my phone the other day and stared at the pretty pictures, it struck me how distinct each of our Mexican stops has been this winter. Every aspect has varied: our homes themselves, the cities, the vibe, the landscape, the food, and most strikingly, our state of mind and life during each stage. I am referring to myself here–Cindy would have to write her own blog post to describe her change. As we reach the halfway point of this third and final stage for this winter, I distinctly recognize three epochs, and huge change, I mean massive. Isn’t that why we set out on this journey in the first place?
Prelude: McMinnville
I feel like I have written a lot about this period of my life, maybe to the point that it feels redundant, but perhaps not. As lovely as the Oregon wine country is, and as fun as it is to walk down Third Street, this year marked the time for my relationship with this pretty little community to end. We do plan to be back in the area from October to May, but once you sell your house and head to Mexico, your attachment is gone and the romance is over. You might go back for a fling, but you’ve broken up, effectively. When I have gone back twice this winter have felt like I was walking in the past, a bit like Frodo returning to the Shire after his adventures, looking around and not feeling it, knowing that one day soon he would leave for good. Yeah, it was like that. I can’t imagine what this summer will bring. How will I feel then?
Selling the house, as you can imagine, was chaotic. The sale transaction had a couple of hiccups but nothing out of the ordinary; the real chaos came in clearing the place out and sifting through memories in the process. Some people–and an occasional voice in my head–demanded answers as to what we planned to do. Selling the house–your security blanket–is so unorthodox! What are going to do?! No, fucker, what are you going to DO?! What is your plan? I don’t get it–fuck! It is certainly annoying when someone else asks this, particularly when they seem more stressed out about it than you are, but how about when you ask yourself? Híjole.
So, how did I feel during this buildup? Nostalgic and stressed. Excited for the journey to come, but stressed. The days were full of things to do–lots of things to do. I knew when I hit Mazatlán I would need to sleep for days.
That said, we had a beautiful fall, and several sunny days in October to enjoy as this stage of life came to an end.
Mazatlán
When we hit Mazatlán, where we would stay from late October until mid-December, I was indeed tired, as in exhausted. Once we bought some groceries and got settled, I slept for hours on end each day. I felt drained, exasperated, and fried, and also thrilled to leave the U.S. behind. This city is a riotous port that knows how to party; it is rambunctious, raucous, and fun. Also, the nearby beaches are gorgeous and the seafood is amazing–I think the shrimp beats Gulf shrimp from Louisiana!
At this point in time, as you may recall, I was still working for DreamTrips as a host (I hadn’t named the company in recent posts, but now I do–if you know me, you know anyway, so there you go.) The day after our arrival in Mazatlán, I received three trip assignments on the Mayan Riviera, which I accepted, largely because I needed the money and the house hadn’t yet sold. If I hadn’t needed the cash, I wouldn’t have taken the work, and despite the fact that this had been an amazing gig for two-and-a-half years, I found myself fed-up and ready to move on: from August to October, the contractors, myself included, did not get paid. Some of my colleagues quit and went elsewhere, and I was just as exasperated and ready to jump ship. At one point in October, as we were packing to leave, I was literally within 48 hours of tendering my resignation when all of a sudden all my back pay came through. From an emotional standpoint, of course, the damage was done. It is always done before you accept it as reality.
The trips were chaotic, much more so than all the others, which wound up numbering 78 in total. Never had I experienced such voracious complainers. Pretty clearly this was the Universe trying to tell me something, but in my drive for cash money I refused to listen. I stayed with it. Back in Mazatlán, I still did my best to try to process life and what was going on with regard to our new big adventure. I found myself looking back on everything, and on the monumental nature of my decision to sell my house and go travel. When the nagging voice would return demanding I come forth with my master plan for what I was to DO, I found myself wondering why I had ditched such a comfy financial security blanket. On the good days, which happily began to grow more numerous, I realized that a house–and a city–are like a relationship: if you’re financially secure but wounding yourself, doesn’t it make more sense to end the bleeding? Yes, why yes it does! Take that, you nagging voice! That’s right, go fuck yourself!
The time in Mazatlán, from an emotional standpoint, was chaotic. It was all to be expected; we hadn’t been gone that long, and everything related to McMinnville was still very close. The house sale didn’t close until three days before Christmas, so the past was always looming, always shouting, “Hey fuckface, it’s not too late to salvage your American property-owning pride and be a productive cog like the rest of us. Keep up with your countrymen for Christ’s sake! Come on, you lazy bastard, tell me what are you going to DO?!”
Playa Del Carmen
After twelve days visiting family during the Christmas holiday, Cindy and I picked up Mateo and Zaiya and headed back to Mexico, to Playa Del Carmen this time. We wanted the kids’ first experience in Mexico to be on the Caribbean, where the water is warm year-round, and they could spend the Winter Break swimming. This was a smashing success, and no doubt a memorable time for them. We all enjoyed each other’s company. In early January, I got on the plane with them and flew back to the U.S. They re-entered school and I fled, heading back to the Riviera Maya. In western Oregon, it was raining and brutally cold–dark, gray, and dismal.
When I returned to the Yucatán, I knew that another transition was about to take place. I could feel another ending. This one would have to do with work; I just knew.
A strange process began in mid-December, but one I had experienced before. After six weeks of work and regular communication with the office while we lived in Mazatlán, I began to find my emails getting ignored. Unfortunately, this was a thing; never have I had so many emails unanswered and unrecognized so often and so frequently in a work environment. Not ever. If the office staff wasn’t comfortable answering a question from their contractors, they simply wouldn’t respond. My questions had to do with the schedule, and their lack of response told me all I had to know. For whatever reason, the ride was about to come to an end.
I felt this shortly after Christmas, but I went through our week in Playa Del Carmen with the kids without saying anything. We enjoyed the sunshine and the warm seas. When I returned in January after taking the kids back to Oregon for school, I still found my emails ignored, so I demanded a meeting in real time. If this was to be the end, let them say it. It’s the adult thing to do, right?
Well, the call went down and it was indeed the end of the ride. It seemed to me the office staff responsible for delivering the news were not at all comfortable doing it, which I get; I have only had one middle-management gig in my life and I think I sucked at it. Hiring and firing is a pain in the ass. Their reasons weren’t very convincing to me; it all had the feel of upper-level management cleaning house and issuing directives to subordinates to purge the rolls. Happens.
This left me in a bizarre situation, but not in a bad way. If firing can indeed be called timely and good, then this was both–timely and good. Good because I had nearly bailed two months earlier and the romance was long-dead. Things could not have gone on much longer without a flameout, breakup, threatened lawsuit for breach of contract (nonpayment), etc., etc. This ending was also timely; if you’re going to suddenly find yourself with no income, wouldn’t you rather be someplace inexpensive, with all your rents and lodging paid ahead for months, someplace where you can actually afford to buy groceries and go out to dinner every once in a while, someplace your money goes a long way? No? Seriously? What if I throw in a tropical climate, sunshine, and the Caribbean? How about then?
Yeah, timely. I had time–weeks in fact–to relax, process, and ponder my next moves. Our backyard had a pool and our rooftop had a nice view.
Our days in Playa Del Carmen were hot, sometimes rainy, sometimes bursting with sun. I appreciated, above all else, having the freedom and space to really do some deep searching. Should I go back into tour directing and the travel industry? Should I ditch that and go with something else? Should I open another beer? Choices.
To take you through all of my thought process during this time would be to tie you up and flog you endlessly. It would be torture, so let me just say this: one hot day when I was wading in the rooftop kiddie pool I had a very simple idea, one so basic I felt I had to adopt it and run. Why don’t I invite people to go through the Workbook of A Course in Miracles with me as I blog each day about the experience? This is what that lady did when she went through Julia Child’s French cookbook and blogged about it, and she wound up getting a movie deal. This idea for me had been a long time in the making. The business end will come; for now consider it my stepping up and stepping out into a broader and more significant role as a guide. This is a different kind of tour. For more details, or if you’re interested in a spiritual journey that will re-make and re-energize your world, visit Change Without Limits . I’d be happy to have you.
The time in Playa Del Carmen, then, was another time of transition, one of dumping the old and inviting the new, or if you prefer the old and obviously tired stepping aside so the new could take its place, not unlike losing a tooth when you’re a child. Where Mazatlán had thrived on chaos, Playa Del Carmen started off with chaos and ended in inspiration. In between, the Caribbean and the heat brought a deep relief, the kind that penetrates your bones.
Oh Yeah, And Then We Left Playa Del Carmen and Went on This Vacation Cruise, Thing, Adventure
See more pics here: Photos from the South Pacific
Mérida
We decided to spend some time in Mérida as our last stage in this winter’s adventure, which as you can see has ushered in of a new phase of life. I really didn’t think anything less was going to happen. This journey has been momentous at the beginning and throughout the middle. Will it ever end? Nah.
Let me just utter one word about Mérida: mellow. Mellow, chill, and cool. For a large city (the largest I have ever lived in) the vibe is one of a smaller town; it lacks the chaos. I needed this vibe to begin Change Without Limits and transition into a completely different role in life. It has been appointed for me, no doubt, and it helps to find myself in a quiet home at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac with time to spend writing. It only costs 8 Pesos to take a colectivo (a vanpool) to downtown. The downtown is deeply historical, stately, and stunning.
The surrounding area is beautiful, too, with nearly empty Gulf Coast beaches and impressive Mayan ruins at sites like Uxmal and Chichén Itzá. The food is spicy and amazing, and in truth I have found myself attracted to Mérida since my high school Spanish teacher showed us an old-fashioned film in class one day. She said, “Ahora todos van a tener ganas de conocer Mérida.” She was right: at least one person wanted to visit the city and get to know it better.
What is next? We may end up living here one day and buying property. It certainly seems we have found our next hub. We do still want to visit the coast of Oaxaca but at this point it will take a stunning experience to dislodge Mérida from its status as our next seat of operations. Beyond the city itself, I feel a deep connection to the entire Mayab, the Mayan cultural region that covers five Mexican states and four Central American countries. This next phase of life is ON. Cooool.
In conclusion, I want to thank you all for your support and for following along with me in this process. I would also like to point out that, for future reference, excuses to linger in the cold are nonexistent–Mérida boasts an international airport that is easily reached from American cities like Dallas, Houston, or Miami. We’ll see you soon!