And just like that, I’m back in the hostel swing.
People in and out, going on adventures, playing beach volleyball, trips to surf, going on hikes.
Already the battle in my head begins between forgoing experiences in order to sit down and write, or forgoing writing in order to experience things to write about. Oof. A great battle.
 |
| beach volleyball day |
 |
| hostel pool party |
I stand in the kitchen, waiting for water to boil, and chatting with the people who work here. La Redonda. I’ve booked three nights rather than committing to the whole five I have free before my friends arrive next week.
 |
| boards for rent at La Redonda |
I sit, first morning at my new hostel, eating my eggs and salad for breakfast, no clue what my plans are for the day. The three guys next to me, two brothers and their friend, are talking about walking to San Pancho (official name - San Francisco), which is the next town over. It’s meant to be smaller and less touristy. A more chill vibe.
“What are you doing there?” I ask them.
“Well, I broke my arm a few years ago swimming on the beach, and the doctor that helped me works in San Pacho. He was really nice to us, and now whenever we come to visit, we bring him gifts.”
“So you’re walking all the way to San Pancho to go to the hospital?”
“Yup.”
Screw it, I don’t have any plans for the day.
“You guys mind a tag along?”
“Not at all, come with us!”
We set out along the beach under the burning sun, the grand adventure to the nice doctor.
It’s much quieter here. Less people pushing products on you as you sunbathe. Less people all together. I like the vibe of the town. I’ve heard a few people say it’s too quiet and they’re not fans, but honestly, I could use with some small town beach vibes.
One of the boys claims he knows a restaurant on the beach with the best mango smoothies, so we take a seat, chairs sinking into sand.
“Hey, by the way…” I start, after we’ve ordered. “I know we’ve just walked all the way to another town together, but... what are your names?”
“Oh good!” One exclaims, “I asked my brother on the walk what your name was, and he didn’t know either. Glad it wasn’t just us.”
We laugh, exchange names, and essentially spend the next two days together in a little pod. Sometimes it just works like that. In life, and especially on the road. We don’t need names…just good vibes.
“I’ve been seeing fire circles and wanting to do that,” I respond.
“Great, let’s have a fire tomorrow.”
We agree to gather in the hostel common area by 3pm and head out to collect supplies for the fire by 3:30. My phone buzzes, startling me from my almost-sleep.
“Where are you?” It says.
3:15. Shit.
After partying Friday night, walking to San Pacho Saturday day time, and partying again Saturday night, my body was really looking forward to the nap that was coming on.
Too bad, plans to be followed through on.
“10 minutes,” I respond, throwing on my swimsuit and splashing water on my face.
Five of us venture towards Playa Carricitos as the sun begins it’s afternoon descent. Getting there is a 30 minute walk, mostly through the jungle, and I think these treks are sometimes my favorite part. Simply walking and talking. Getting to know each other and the lives we’ve led, so different from the lives of our peers, yet we’ve all converged here, in this moment.
Same, same, but different.
Carricitos is beautiful. At low tide we climb out onto some boulders and sit in silence, watching the waves crash against the rocks, sometimes small and soft, sometimes violent and loud, spraying us. When a particularly good one hits, we all cheer instinctually, but otherwise, we enjoy the moment separately, with one another.
Alone in our minds, together in our hearts.
 |
| watching the crabs battle |
We build a fire as the sun approaches the horizon, and just as we’ve got it lit, five more friends arrive from the hostel. We stand together, the waves gently touching our toes, and wait for the exact moment the sun disappears from view. One of the boys, Maciek, has told us of an Australian tradition that was explained to him, in which the whole village would watch the sun set together every night and cheer when it disappeared. He says the place he stayed in Morocco took on this tradition while he was there.
A beautiful concept, I think.
We stand, counting it down, like some sort of New Years Eve celebration.
3…
2…
1…
We erupt in cheers. Whooping and clapping.
Goodnight, Sun. Thanks for another beautiful day.
Won’t you come again tomorrow?
We roast sausages. We brink beer. We share stories of our countries. The moon rises, full force shining, above our heads, between the palm trees. I wander into the rising tide. The powerful ocean, closing in on the sand. Reclaiming her territory. Dark feminine rising. I can feel the power radiating. I stop walking when the water hits mid-calf. I stand so long, breathing in her beauty and power, soaking in the moon shine, that the water hits my knees. My hips. My waist. Quickly swelling with the full moon. Each retraction burying my feet deeper in the sand. I take a few steps back, out of healthy respect.
“What are you doing?” I hear Maciek call from behind me.
I turn and smile.
“Look how beautiful it is,” I respond quietly.
He wades in closer.
“I thought you are afraid of the ocean,” he says, inquiry in his voice.
“I am.”
“Why are you so far out? At night? I saw a girl in the water and couldn’t figure out who it was. When I realized it was you, I was very surprised. We should go back up.”
“It’s okay,” I respond. “It’s okay. Look how powerful she is. And beautiful.”
Sometimes I wonder who will dismiss me as a weird hippy and who will stop to appreciate with me.
Maciek pauses. He agrees. We stand in silence, appreciating. Allowing the ocean to creep up us bit by bit.
I have wiggled my way into another group, instantaneously part of it, to both my surprise and theirs.
“It’s so odd to think I spotted you guys on the beach, kind of recognized you, came to say hi, and four days later, here we are, planning our tattoos together.”
“Honestly, it blows my mind you just started hanging out with us. It feels like you’ve just always been here and part of the group.”
In La Redonda hostel there is a circle of chairs in the courtyard. The “regroup circle” we call it. Lost your group? Alone? Looking for an adventure buddy? Go sit in the regroup circle for 5 minutes… someone will find you. Invite you to tacos. To the beach. To get a drink. To be a friend. Half the people who sit there are no longer staying at Redonda, but we just keep coming back.
I walk to San Pancho a second time with a new group of people, simply to enjoy a smaller town, a calmer beach. I don’t stay long though, as Maya arrives tonight! I tell so many people about her coming that when she finally arrives, half the hostel knows who she is.
“Oh, you must be the other Maya!”
I’m so excited to reconnect with this beautiful traveler soul. The woman I haven’t seen since Ireland in 2018, where we whispered 4am goodbyes in our friends living room in Galway, and she disappeared into the night. What a long four years.
A long four years.
Yet no time at all.
We talk and laugh and dance and everything is as it was before.
 |
| Galway, Ireland 2018 |
 |
| Sayulita, Mexico 2022 |
The next day, my friend from Boulder arrives, Jay. And though I’ve seen him much more recently than the other people on this trip, it’s still crazy to my brain to place this Boulder, van-dwelling friend into a scene in a hostel in Southern Mexico. Let’s go!
Josh, Maya, Jay… I’ve never had so many friends on a trip. I’ve never traveled out of the country with friends before and am intrigued and excited to see how this will play out. A week in Sayulita with Maya and Jay in an airbnb, and then? Who knows. Whatever we want. Together or separate.
In our Sayulita group, we’ve somehow managed to acquire three Maia’s (Maya, Mya), two Jay’s, and two Pat’s. So now we’ve got Texas, Dots, Trouble, Mud Guppie, and Dusty Haze… we’ll keep adding.
What’s next? The question has begun to buzz between the three of us. Sayulita is beautiful, but there is something lacking. This is a place for partying. For tourists. For drinking. I didn’t need to leave the US to find a place like this. I know I could shift the focus on my own. Get an airbnb for a month. Live a real life. Stretch every morning and write all day. The trick is to tap in with local community and not spend all my time with other travelers, but it seems more difficult here than in other places I’ve traveled and I have to connect that to the large tourist population. I think the three of us all itch for something more authentic. Let’s get down to the nitty gritty. Let’s see how people actually live here. There’s a time and place for partying, but what’s next?
Not to mention, Sayulita seems to be taking offerings from me. Sacrifices. Little things, in quick succession. My ring, my lip piercing, my sarong, my bracelet. Things are literally falling off me or breaking at every turn. Maybe I’m not meant to spend too much time here. Maybe the price will keep rising. I don’t base decisions purely in superstition, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take it into account at least a little.
“Part of me wishes we didn’t have this airbnb, as nice as it is and as much as I’m enjoying it… I’d really like to sleep on the beach and have those sorts of adventures with you guys.”
“I’d like to do that, too, but I’m enjoying this very much while we have it, cause I know this is as nice as my trip is going to be. When we leave here…things are going to get a lot crustier.”
That’s true…
Let’s get crusty.
Comments
Post a Comment