Sometimes things seem incredibly difficult to decide. To book. To plan. To make happen. Frozen with indecision, unable to decide what future-Maia will feel and want. I might ruminate on a simple choice for days, tortured over potential consequences.
Other times I hear an offer and act before I even truly process what it means. These decisions are usually the best for me. The ones that don’t torture. The ones that flow.
For example, Shikai, who I met in Sayulita, asking if I wanted to come to Electric Daisy Carnival with him in Mexico City at the end of February and me saying yes.
Of course I do.
What else would I possibly prefer doing?
We sit on the beach, six of us, after dancing ourselves into sweaty messes at a Cumbia show. The stars are gorgeous above, and we talk and laugh loudly, one of many groups spread out in the night.
A man approaches with a puppy on a leash, another dog following, and asks for a lighter. The puppy goes straight to the center of the circle and multiple hands reach out to pet it, cooing.
“Aww, perro!” Someone says happily.
“Si,” the man replies grumpily, “perros para gringos.”
His dogs start to play rowdily in the middle of our small circle, flinging sand everywhere and knocking one of the girls over.
“Are you a fucking gringo?” he grumbles at Arnaud as he takes his lighter.
“Ehh… yep,” he replies with an uncertain chuckle, feeling the energy shift.
There are small shouts of protest as the dogs run into more people, knocking over bottles and stepping on phones.
“Fucking gringos,” he continues muttering.
“Yo,” I say, “get your dogs out of here, that’s enough.”
One of the girls in our group looks truly upset, and another is getting up to leave. He just keeps muttering angrily at us, cigarette dangling, beer in hand, watching the dogs wreak havoc.
“That’s enough,” I repeat, grabbing the leash of the puppy and pulling it (gently) out of our circle. “Take your dogs and get out of here.” I thrust the leash towards him. Arnaud, still sitting, grabs my leg and tugs me back as I get closer to the man.
“No,” Arnaud says quietly, “let’s go.”
“No, fuck this.”
The guy takes the leash and wanders away, bitching about us “fucking gringos”. Most of our group disperses rapidly, put off by the negative energy we’re so shielded from in Mazunte.
Such a short interaction. And not a terrible one, by any means. But still, if my goal in this blog is to accurately represent traveling, these things should be included.
For some reason, I am experiencing my second difficult morning in Mazunte. Trouble in paradise is not the theme I desire, and I’m doing my best to quell the negative thoughts and irritation.
The cafe I want to go to is closed. I go to the one Maya is at. We sit at different tables, she on a phone call with a friend. I pull out my computer, planning to write and edit. I can’t connect to the wifi. I put it away. My breakfast comes and the first bite throws me off, the texture making me feel ill. This cafe is not cheap. So much for splurging on something nice. I give it to Maya, glad it won’t go to waste. At least the coffee is good. I see Thomas and Hayley come in and sit in the lower section of the cafe and I’m flooded with guilt at the memory of snapping at Thomas the night before when I found him smoking a cigarette in the door of our tent. I was still riled up from the angry dog man at the beach, and unfortunately, let that anger fly at an undeserving Thomas. My stomach is unhappy today, as it so often is in Mexico. I sip my coffee, watching the ocean do it’s thing. As I finish and pack my things, Thomas and Hayley spot me, Hayley waving me over. I sigh and approach cautiously, studying Thomas’ face for any lingering tension from the night before. I don’t see any. When Hayley goes to the restroom I apologize to him for snapping. I feel so tired all of the sudden. He says it’s forgotten. “Today is a new day.” He asks if I want him to cook us breakfast and we leave the cafe. I am incredibly grateful to have patient, kind people in my life.
Maya catches us as we head down the street, and the three of us dance in the kitchen to Buena Vista Social Club, cooking eggs and potatoes, and cracking jokes about how incredibly busy and tiring our days of laying on the beach and sitting in cafes are.
After breakfast the three of us head to the beach with Hayley and Maria. Maya points to a guy, wandering alone. “Isn’t that Chris’ friend?” She asks.
“Is it?” I can’t recall, we meet so many people. He looks like a lost, confused pirate. His white, billowing, long-sleeve button-down is full of holes, and gives the impression it may fall straight off his body at any moment. He’s clearly searching for something. He wanders a few steps, then stares lost into the horizon or down at the beach. It’s a humorous and curious sight, definitely.
When he looks towards us, I wave to him invitingly and Maya does the same. He looks even more confused. He approaches us, examining our faces, trying to decide why or if he knows us.
“Have you seen a pouch of tobacco?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“I’ve lost it somewhere, and I don’t know where.”
“If you knew where, it wouldn’t be lost.”
“Weren’t you with the French guy last night?” He asks me. “I think I met you at the bar.”
“Yeah, I was.”
“I think he has my tobacco.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
The pirate wanders off, still looking somewhat confused.
He returns 15 minutes later. No tobacco. He says he’ll get more later, and asks to join us. We learn his name is Robin and he’s from Germany. This is where our perfect quad is born. On Playa Mazunte. Thomas, Robin, Maya, and I. We spend nearly every minute of the day together until departure times arrive.
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| Thomas, Robin, and Maya on Playa Mazunte |
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| Robin the pirate! |
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| Robin finally got some tobacco! |
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We’ve heard rumor of another ecstatic dance tonight. A free one on Playa Mermejita, preceded by an opening ceremony and breath work, and followed by a drum jam. We time it to arrive as the ecstatic dance portion starts, and though we find many, many people in a group on the beach, there’s no dance music happening.
Pablo, the DJ from the first ecstatic dance we went to, sees us approaching and rises to greet us. Kisses on both cheeks. He tells me the ecstatic dance has been canceled. That the police have come and told everyone it couldn’t happen because it’s too big of a gathering. I look out over the crowd of people dancing to drums and various instruments, motion vaguely, and laugh. “Okay, but they haven’t stopped anything? We’re still here.”
He nods and shrugs, “I know.”
“Well, no matter, we can still dance!”
The sun has been set for quite some time. People are still playing music and doing acro. Dancing. Maya and I lay on a blanket, watching the stars, and murmuring to each other. We can’t find the big dipper.
Thomas appears above us, smiles, and lays down, sprawled across the both of us.
“Thomas, where’s the big dipper?”
Robin appears shortly and we hold out our hands towards him. He joins our puddle.
“Jimmy told me that in Quebec, they call it the big bear and the little bear,” Maya tells us.
“In Spanish it’s the big car and the little car.”
“In German it’s the big cart and the little cart.”
“I wonder how many different names it has.”
In the coming days, we start asking everyone we meet from different cultures what they call this constellation.
Though the day has been lovely, and I’m thrilled to have added a new friend who flows so seamlessly into our group, I’m forced to cut the evening short for myself due to a stabbing pain in my stomach. I assure everyone that it happens regularly and I just need to lay down, wish them lots of fun tonight, and promise to rejoin them in the morning.
But by the time I make it back to the tent, it becomes more apparent that this isn’t just my typical belly ache.
I lay down, stomach cramping, and settle into fitful dreams of asking for a bucket to puke into. I try desperately not to move, as it activates powerful waves of nausea. I hear myself moaning in pain constantly, and I try to stop when I realize Maya has returned home at some point and is next to me in the bed, but the pain and the nausea are too much. I’m freezing all of the sudden. Shivering uncontrollably, curled in the tightest ball I can physically manage. I know I need to puke, but the door of the tent seems so far and I’m scared if I stand I won’t make it all the way out, or I won’t be able to open the zipper in time, and then what? Puke all over our floor? I don’t think so.
I continue rolling around in discomfort.
Eventually though, it’s my bladder that betrays me. I crawl to the edge of the tent, needing to pee. Manage to locate and open the zipper, much to my relief, and tumble out of the tent.
Gee, this is going swimmingly.
There’s no convenient place for me to be sick, so I sit in one of the chairs on our “porch”, fully aware that if I get on the ground to do it, I won’t be able to get back up and Maya will find me here in the morning. No, that doesn’t work for me.
I sit in the chair. One finger is all it takes. Everything empties onto the ground. I’m hot. I’m delirious. Disoriented. I’m sweating. I can’t get my sweater off. The layers I’ve added in my freezing state. More exits my body. I crawl back to bed. Collapse in a heap. Pray that was the worst of it.
You know what’s even less pleasant than being sick while traveling? Being sick while traveling and sleeping in a tent which gets hit with full sun by 6:30 in the morning. I need rest. But there’s no way that’s going to happen in our sauna of a house.
Maya wakes and looks at me cheerfully. Our daily greeting has been “good morning and good luck” for the past few weeks. Something that makes us giggle. Something that sets the day off right. Maya’s eyes find mine, and instead of greeting her, I say, “Be careful.”
“Of what??” She asks, suddenly alert.
“I puked in our yard last night. Be careful where you step.”
A new wave of nausea hits me, but the heat makes it impossible to escape. I grab my phone and my water bottle and leave the tent, ever so slowly, picking my way across the lot, towards the hostel common area.
I find Maria brushing her teeth at the sink. She grins at me, spits, and turns to greet me. “Good morning!” She exclaims, “how are y-”, she registers my face and her smile drops. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not well,” I say hoarsely, “but the tent is so hot.”
She touches my forehead. “Maia, you’re on fire.”
“I hate to ask, but would it be okay if I lay in your bed for a bit?”
“Of course! Hayley is in my bed right now, just go curl up with her.”
“You’re an angel.”
I shuffle into the dark dorm room, most beds are still occupied with sleeping young people, and I locate Hayley, wrapped in a yellow blanket. I crawl in beside her as quietly as possible and curl into a ball.
Mm…cool, dark relief.
After some time, I hear shuffling nearby, and feel someone standing above me.
“Maia?” A voice asks. I roll over groggily and find Thomas above me. “What are you doing in here?”
“I’m not well… tent is hot…”
Hayley stirs, “Oh, it’s Maia. I was wondering why Maria got back in bed. You okay?”
Thomas touches my forehead. “You’re on fire.”
“That’s what Maria said, but I’m cold.”
He crawls onto the bed beside me, and the three of us lay there, cuddling and speaking in whispers. Their company feels nice. Silly, whispered jokes. Friends help everything. Maya and Maria come in and lean against the bed near us, and we spend a good while laughing and joking and I almost forget I feel like shit.
Eventually everyone else’s day must start, but before it does, they cycle through the dorm, a parade of angels, to make sure I’m comfortable.
Maya brings me fresh orange juice, and later crackers.
Thomas makes me mint tea.
Hayley brings me a banana and a coconut, as well as providing various herbal tinctures.
Maria checks on me throughout the day.
Kati offers me some of her juice.
Everyone is so kind.
I nap through the day, waking only when an angel appears with fresh offerings. I soak in how blessed I am to have these strangers caring for me so well. These friends. These loved ones. This universal family. Thank you.
Mazunte is the place to be apparently. Hostels and private rooms are so booked, it’s impossible to find accommodation. Sometimes for days or weeks in advance. People come by our hostel every day, packs on their backs, asking hopefully if there is room with us. We got lucky, getting moved into our circus tent.
Due to the incredibly short supply of dorm beds, we’ve invited roommates into our tent. May as well make it a true festival.
Thomas blows up his air mattress on our floor as we all continue cackling about our “busy, busy” days here in Mazunte.
Welcome to the party tent.
“I can’t believe we’re separating so soon,” I say to Maya. “A month has passed so quickly.”
“Yeah…but it won’t be for long. You should come to my houseparty in March!”
“In California?”
“Yeah! March 5th. We’re throwing one last party before we move out of Chico.”
“Hmm… it’s possible.”
“Everyone should come!” She extends to the rest of our group. “It would be so amazing to have you all in California with me!”
“International house party? Let’s do it.”
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| Maya and I's morning journal routine |
“So what tattoo should I get to remember you and this place?” Thomas asks. “Maybe the dragonfly from your gauge?”
“That’d be cool!” I pull my earring out and we hold it to different parts of our bodies.
“Yeah, maybe…”
A group of us hide from the blazing, mid-afternoon sun. Playing ukulele, snacking, enjoying each other's company, being lazy…
“We should definitely get the big dipper!” Maya pipes up, remembering our night together, searching for it as we lay on the beach.
“Oh my god, yes!”
“That’s perfect!”
“Wait, guys, are we all going to get the big dipper together?”
“Obviously.”
Our little family chatters excitedly. A young family. Barely three days old. A perfect family. Together for many lifetimes.
We mention our plan to a friend called Light.
The next day he points to a woman in the street, “she does stick and poke tattoos.”
We tell her our plan. She loves it. We go to her camp the next day, a grungy mix of dirt floors, concrete buildings, naked, sleeping children, and dirty dogs. We lay on the ground on colorful sleeping bags. Drink beer. Eat ice cream. Pet each other's heads. She shares some of her life with us as she marks our shared love into our flesh.
This grubby, grungy, beautiful experience could not be any more different than my tattoo in Sayulita, or anymore perfect. Each piece of art representing exactly the experience they were born from.
There is no pain with the tattoo. She has such a gentle touch. She speaks of it as a healing experience. It is.
I look at this family with dreamy eyes just as they look at me. We will be connected always.
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| "It's a vibe" |
I’m not ready to leave. But it is becoming more apparent, little by little, that our time here is diminishing. Winding down. Slipping away. Thomas’ departure last night has made it real.
I want to lay on the beach in a cuddle puddle of my new little family. Instead I sit at my computer, scheduling the rest of my time in Mexico.
Every day I pick up my phone and see the dates, rising in value, my heart breaks a little more. No way it’s already the 8th, the 9th, the 10th… how does it happen so fast?
I book Maya and I beds in a dorm in Mexico City for the 15th. Can’t believe I’ll be hugging her goodbye so soon. I book myself more rooms…a dorm for a night, an airbnb to recover from my dental surgery, then a different airbnb for Electric Daisy Carnival. I need to look at car rentals in Sacremento and flights to the US, but my brain has dealt with all the logistic thoughts it can have for one morning. I think I’ll head out in search of a second coffee, instead.
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| Plenty to explore along this beautiful coast |
It’s interesting how the departure of one or two people and the addition of a few others can truly change the entire dynamic and vibe of a group.
The night Thomas leaves, I’m still feeling the effects of the food poisoning and head to bed early. Maya goes out to have a few drinks, and by the time she’s returned, she’s found us a whole new group to join.
I meet them the next morning at breakfast and we become attached at the hip. Mirran from Scotland, Miranda from England, and David from Spain (sometimes Sem, but he's also experiencing food poisoning). We sit at the breakfast cafe far past morning and decide breakfast should simply blend into beer. Maya leaves, and I decide to stick with this new group. They show me a tiny, hidden bar they’ve found, up an almost secret, dirt staircase, behind all the shops on the main street. It’s so quiet and peaceful and we spend the entire afternoon drinking Corona, hiding from the sun, and sharing information about our countries and lives.
Eventually Maya and Robin appear, bringing Kiva with them, who they’ve run into on the street.
“This must be the most hidden bar in all of Mazunte. We really struggled to find you!”
We separate briefly to process our day thoughts into night thoughts, and six of us meet back at our camp with beers, candles, and music, truly setting a vibe.
From the night they all met Maya, to the morning she and I depart, the six of us do everything together. Eat breakfast, go swimming, get beers, watch the sunset, go to parties, get dinner, go dancing, chill at camp.
Only three days from “hello” to “see you next time”.
It feels I’ve known them forever.
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| New crew! Sem, Mirran, Miranda, Robin, David, and I |
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| Seriously, the bakery kept us all alive |
I open it to see who it’s from, expecting someone I’ve met in the last month. Gabriel, it says. Gabriel… I’m somewhat surprised. I met Gabriel six years ago in San Cristobal de las Casas on the remission celebration trip I took with my mom. I have to laugh. Six years since we’ve seen each other and his message is so casual. Maybe I’ll bump into you.
That night we go to a party up the hill. Miranda, David, Robin, Sem, Maya and I. The music is fantastic. The venue is awesome. I’m dancing so hard I can hardly breath, sweat soaking through my jumper, and making my hair hang limply. I turn, looking for a spot to catch my breath for a moment, and run into Gabriel.
We don’t say anything. We just embrace. Keep dancing. Smile at each other.
Guess he was right. Guess we were meant to just bump into each other.
The world is vast. The world is tiny.
Eventually, the dreaded day arrives. Miranda comes in the morning to say goodbye. We go for coffee at la Baguette one more time. Odd as it seems, I’ll really miss the bakery. Our festival. Our meeting place of the last two weeks. We sip coffee and fill ourselves on seven peso bread.
Maya and I depart from Mazunte. It feels nearly impossible to leave all our new best friends. I can’t think about it too much or my heart might crack.
“We’ll go to Mexico City tonight and meet a new group of best friends,” Maya assures me.
“Please no,” I respond. “I can’t handle loving and leaving anyone new right now. We’ve already cycled through three beautiful groups. I need a minute to process their absence.”
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| One last cheesy roll before we depart |
Our travel day is long. A taxi to a bus, a bus to a taxi, a taxi to the airport, a plane to Mexico city, an Uber to the hostel. Whew. We have arrived. We slam coffee at 7pm and head out in search of food. We debate if we should celebrate Maya’s last night in Mexico, but we’re both exhausted. We climb into her bunk instead and turn on Howl’s Moving Castle.
The next day, we spend hours trying to get her a covid test so she can fly to California that night. The relief is palpable when the task is accomplished.
I wake at 5:30am with the rocking, and before I’ve registered what’s happening, I make ready to say “good morning and good luck” to Maya. To start the day off right.
I remember suddenly she’s not the one above me. Sadness washes through me.
I’ve done so many trips on my own. I adore traveling solo. But after a month with Maya, a few weeks with Jay, and various time with all the friends we made along the way, I feel a great absence now that our time together has ended.
I roll over in my bunk and try to sleep once more.
Mom asks if I’m nervous to be on my own with Maya gone. Nervous? No. Sad? Yes. It’s hard to see her go, but the truth is, I’ll only be on my own the amount I want to be. Hayley, one of our clan from Mazunte, arrives in Mexico City the same night Maya leaves, and books a bed in my hostel. David, our Spanish friend who we spent our last three days in Oaxaca attached at the hip with, will be here in the next few days, and Shikai, one of my first friends on this trip, the Canadian boy I met in Sayulita and have a matching “awevo” tattoo with, will arrive around the 21st to explore the city before EDC.
The world is vast.
The world is tiny.
We swirl around each other endlessly in this spiraling dance,
and those we’re meant to pass again,
we do.
Thank you for being my adventure crew.
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