LAX is quiet than I had ever seen it. It's nice, peaceful. The long hallways feel endless but this time I don't mind it so much. I don't rush like I normally do. There's nothing to rush for, it seems.
I don't get lost on my way to immigration control, it's like my feet are leading me to the next destination, they know where to go. They had been here before. While I? I am still somewhere up in the sky in between countries, floating in airplane mode, between time zones, enjoying being in between worlds. The immigration officer asks me to take off my hat and mask, well - my TWO masks, as she pushes a button to snap a picture. A picture that would soon be added to the worst collection of headshots the world has ever seen. Mug shots are better than these pictures, probably. Definitely. STAMP! I get a stamp in my passport and continue on my way. No questions about my whereabouts in the last fourteen days, no questioning me if I have any symptoms. No one checks my temperature. The US couldn't care less if one would have Covid and enter the states. It's almost as if she - the USA - is self aware after all. One last socially distanced stressful ride at the airport shuttle, and we are off to an Uber. Our driver is wearing gloves along with his mask. That's pretty cool. I am thinking how different this is from Sayulita. No one would even THINK of wearing gloves. The mask is a stretch there as it is. The streets of Venice are empty as our Uber driver, John, drives us through. We both notice the stark difference between the sleepy somber yet peaceful reality in Los Angeles during this era, and the vivacious lively vibe in Sayulita's city center. We arrive. It's cozy. The cats greet us 'Hello' almost immediately. We move on to work almost immediately, but taking in sighs of relief to be where we are now, the last stop on our journey away from home - HOME.
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Hope turns to see if the Burner is still on the cabin, he IS. He TAPS on his brain as if to remind her he is merely a figment of her imagination.
HOPE: Let's keep going. There's nothing here anyways. The two turn back to the road and continue their walking/skating. HOPE: I've been sort of a... a bitch to you. I'm sorry. MICKEY: What? No, you haven't. HOPE: Yes I totally have. MICKEY: No... HOPE: YES I have and you don't deserve that. It's not fair that I am taking my shit on you. Being angry and stuff. I mean you've been really nice to me, and sweet. Except when you mansplained to me about your alcohol addiction. But even then, obviously it's a sore subject and I didn't have to be so pushy about it. I'm really sorry. I'm not a bad person. Maybe I am. I don't know. But I don't want to be. Honest to God. MICKEY: Hmmm. HOPE: What hmmm? MICKEY: Okay. HOPE: "Okay?" What is it... you don't accept my apology? MICKEY: Oh I accept it. Sure I accept it. I'll accept any apology from anyone even when it's absolutely not necessary. Thing is... I don't believe you. I want to believe you. I do. But you said 'honest to God.' HOPE: Oh, come on. It's a... figure of speech. MICKEY: For people that believe in God. Yes. HOPE: Well maybe I do. Maybe I don't. I don't know. Why does it matter? (beat) MICKEY: You don't know much about addiction, do you? I mean no disrespect. HOPE: I know some. Not like you. MICKEY: Okay. Well... the third step in the twelve step program is faith. It's an important step in recovery. Because to make the necessary actions to change, we must first BELIEVE that we can change. And a belief, any belief, isn't seen or proved, it's only felt. Through the process of faith. Like, we don't know if we'll make it to the gas station before we die of dehydration, but we believe we will. That's what keeps us going. HOPE: You really are a son of a preacher-man. MICKEY: Guilty as charged. HOPE: I bet he'd like that. That was... moving. I am almost convinced. MICKEY: Almost? HOPE: Leaving room for doubt. It's there to protect us also, no? I mean, otherwise we'd still be back there, with our blind faith, hoping someone will come to our rescue. MICKEY: God shows us the way, but we must walk through it. HOPE: How convenient. For God, I mean. MICKEY: Are you flirting with me? Or with God? I'm genuinely not sure. HOPE: Me neither. To be continued... Every city has its rhythm. Its pace. Its musical beat.
Sayulita is no different. One would think that being a small beach town tucked behind a jungle an hour north of Puerto Vallarta, and is humid and ridiculously hot and tropical year around - would be a chill sleepy relaxed beach town. But no - this is a PARTY town. People walk here almost as fast as New Yorkers do. Granted - they may be walking barefoot and sporting an amount of sweat a swimmer can do laps in, but their pace still is anything but 'chill.' The town's center, aka the 'Plaza' is no more than five or six short blocks but is bustling with lively shops, restaurants, busy bars, food stands and amount of locals and tourists that looks more like 2019 than the global-pandemic-year of 2020... I came here to escape the stress of the United States as the political elections are coming up. Thought I'd be virtually working from home, doing the same thing I'd be doing in LA more or less, but with the occasional walks to the beach and a taste of Mexican take-out or outdoor dining, but instead - I've been constantly looking for a way out of this town, anxiously feeling the stress of the crowds, the absence of masks, and the general sense of drunken wildness and pandemic-denial in this place. I realize now that what I've been looking for here - is peace and quiet. And it's been rather challenging to find in the wild party town of Sayulita, Mexico. Ironically - peace and quiet is what I've found back home over the last seven months. Sure - the news of the political disastrous climate, the economic collapse, and the deadly virus news are horrific and stressful to bare, but all I need to do is unplug for a bit, meditate, go INWARD, and get all the peace and quiet I need to recharge. Back home, through meditation and my daily rituals - peace and quiet is rather easily found. It is always unexpected the gifts one get through travel...especially with a spontaneous travel to another country during a global pandemic. This journey to AWAY that I was yearning for so much - actually showed me the value of HOME. I am a light drinker, a 'cheap date.'
Despite my red hair - I got no speck of Irish bone in me. When I have a drink or two, I lose my words quickly and my brain regresses to pretty much being non-existent. So it is a pleasant surprise when my words jumble up into a life lesson of sorts. And that's what happened today...: I don't recall the exact context, and I won't bore you with the pointless details of it, but I meant to say something along the lines of - 'It's night and day.' Or - 'it's life or death.' Or...it's 'light or dark.' But what came out was: It's LIGHT AND DAY. Who knows what my drunken self meant at that moment. But what I see now looking back at it - is that we like to live in binary terms: in a mindset of 'this or that', 'black and white', 'night and day', 'life or death...' This year I have been learning about the vast ocean in between the two ends. That's where life mostly is, anyways. And how refreshing it is to break away from that binary mindset, even for a mere moment, in a silly drunken moment that seem to have forgotten any notion of 'night' or 'dark' altogether. The night will arrive, and yes, it will be dark. but for now, I'll enjoy the day. I'll enjoy the LIGHT. Cheers! There is a shift that happens in the middle.
The countdown changed from the start of the trip - when I was all taking in, and chewing and biting on future possibilites, to now when I am settled in and secretly counting the days back. Not because I want to return. Though in some ways - I do want to return to the peace and quiet I've gotten from my daily routines. But because I've hit the middle of my time here. In fact - there are less days for me to be here, than the days I've had behind. I know a thing or two about the middle: One - I am a middle daughter. Two - If I could have it my way - I'd only eat the middle inside of a sandwich. Always. But I have never noticed the change happening within me when I am in the middle of a trip. I am simultaneously closing a chapter, and clocking in for a new day of work. Summarizing what was left behind, while leaving room to fantasize about the future. The middle of a trip is a balancing act, and give it to a middle daughter Libra - to wonder about it long enough to write about it. How do you face fears?
Head on and jump right in? Tip toe slowly and gently...? Deny they're there altogether? Friday morning. Sun is shining bright, humidity is as high as it has been here on the Mexican playa, and off we go into a small speed boat, venturing into the deep blue. We go with more people than we were told in this tiny boat - so fear number 1 is ignited: Covid. The risks I've taking by taking a plane, by taking off my mask in the crowded street here at times, by entering stores where the staff doesn't wear masks... were joined by a new friend: a capacity bigger than expected on this tiny boat. After a few long moments of hesitation, we get up on the boat, turning back to see the playa disappearing as we speed away. Enter fear number 2: Speed boat. This little machinery is no walk in the park. Now I see why the tour company sales rep mentioned we should have a LIGHT breakfast. I hold my hand on the railing for most of the ride, and my fearless mer-man suggests I should 'let go.' Sounds so simple, right? I let go for moments...well, seconds... but when the boat rocks back and forth on the fiery sea - I hold on to dear life. I look at my left, trail the coast with my eyes, as if to not let go of the ground. When I look to my right, fear number 3 pops its head in: deep ocean. What's lurking there? Will it get me? Will we all come out of this fully formed? My mind goes quick with catastrophic thinking. I wonder if I have watched 'Jaws' one too many times. Oh darn you Spielberg! Great filmmakers leave their mark on ya it seems... Lo and behold, the boat slows down. We arrive at Marieta islands and I come face to face with fear number 4: Snorkeling in the deep ocean. To my surprise the corals are far and between, and the fish are few and gentle, so I am almost impressed with my ease at this new endeavor. (Not so new - I've deep sea dived a handful of times and snorkeled, but every time feels new and equally as stressful for the fearful mouse that I am.) I follow my mer-man towards a rocky area, and a sudden wave appears in my goggles. I cannot see clearly anymore and for a moment - I think... this is it! No return from this moment. The wave will take me to the rocks and bash my skull in! It's not a pretty thought, but luckily I snap out of it and come to my senses. The ocean is clear and calm again and up I go in the boat again. Sigh of relief and even a smile of adventure. And off we go to another stop, a beautiful playa to chill out in and take pictures in. Our last stop is at the 'Lovers Beach'. This is the highlight of this journey. A round caved beach you must swim under the caves to get to. This is what I thought I'd be afraid of, but after facing the last four fears... I breeze through the 750 feet of swimming against the currant to this wondrous beach where I can admire the surroundings and admire my journey. I lived to tell. I survived facing my fears today. I didn't see any sharks or sting rays (whew thank GOD) and only came out with a couple of minor bruises. And the Lovers Beach was indeed beautiful. On the boat ride back I drink a couple of beers and suddenly the speed boat doesn't bother me so much, and the few other people that were a 'covid-hazard' before - seem harmless and actually even cool. Oh how deep the rabbit hole of fears go... We get back to land, tip our tour guide, and head to wash the salt water off of our hair and slightly sun-burned skin. It was a journey today. One of facing fears, and one of venturing into sea. For me - they are two of the same. What fears will I face tomorrow? I wonder. What fears will YOU? TURTLES are a positive omen bringing 10,000 years of happiness. Or at least that's what the internet says, and we all know how filled with truths the internet is...right?
But in all seriousness, wether they are a good omen or not, we can all agree turtles are pretty adorable and harmless animals. Especially sea turtles... amIright? So you may be as excited as I am about the wonder of seeing baby sea turtles make their first steps into the raging sea. Today I did exactly that: Every night in Sayulita, at about seven in the evening, the newborn sea turtles - the ones ready to make the leap into the sea, are getting a proper send-off with adoring crowds of locals and tourists, all taking photos and videos and smiling and cheering on the tiny turtles as they head on their way to the water. It really was a wonder. Just like with the presence of a human newborn, an animal newborn takes off our guard and wipes a huge smile on our faces. I observed myself as I veered from a crappy irritated mood into being absolutely in love with the little creatures. I was glued to their little bodies making their ways HOME. No one had to tell them where it is. No one had to guide the way. They just knew: 'The ocean is our home.' Us human complicate things so much. We use slogans like 'home is where the heart is', but we don't really relate to our hearts in the same unquestionable way in which the baby sea turtles headed to sea. Do you put your hand on your heart, to feel it every day? Do you know exactly where it is? Does it feel like it's truly your home? Do you keep it well maintained and cared for - as one would hope to keep their home tiny, neat and loved? When I work out - especially after doing some intense workout - I place my left hand on my heart and feel its beat. I breathe deeply and notice that slowly the beat starts slowing down, spacing out. The vibration in my hand is so strong that I sometimes I want to move my hand away. But I stay with it, studying, noticing, learning. Making the slogan a truth I can live by. A home I can live in. A home in my heart. If I don't really know my own heart, how could I expect someone else to? The answer is: I can't. But what I CAN do is get as acquainted with my heart and its rhythm as well I possibly can. So one day I don't even have to use a slogan or another, I'll just KNOW: Home is where my heart is., and that's where I am going. Going deeper into my heart, just as sea turtles head to sea. No hesitation, no turn around, no where else but THERE, no other time but NOW. Follow the big beating heart. Beaches.
Some are ragged and rocky, filled with sticky sand and slimy seaweed. Some are clear and clean of any rocks, of any wildlife, white sand glistening in the sun. Some are tropical and the jungle dips its toes right at the water, as if kissing it 'hello'. Today I visited two beaches. Two very different beaches in feel, in sound, in story: One was the town's main beach - a lively small beach filled with people, small boats, fishermen, paddle-boarders, surfers, kids bathing with joy, warm water, palm trees, beach umbrellas, lounge chairs and anything else you'd expect in a lively beach town vibe. A great little beach, but nothing I haven't seen before in similar climates, in similar towns. The other - up a hill from the main beach, tucked behind trees and behind an old out-of-a-story kind of a cemetery, is a sort-of cove with rocks on both sides, but a clear beach in the middle. It is called 'the beach of the dead.' And it is far away from dead. One of the first visitors I noticed was a bee-like flying bug. I say bee-LIKE because it resembled it's shape and buzz, but its color was dark green. Next I saw a shiny black colored crab crawling on the rocks on the side of this somewhat hidden beach. This beach was quiet, maybe two dozen beach goers and a handful of dogs. One dog in particular caught my eye. It was a lab I believe, or a golden retriver - I often get these two awesome breeds confused. It was so happy when it leaped into the water doing its 'dog swim'. It would come out and rub his face in the sand a few times, getting as messy as possible as if it needed a reason to go back in and wash itself up. It was overjoyed in the water, jumping, drooling, having the time of its life. If that is a beach of the dead - why should we be afraid of anything death related? Maybe that's the point. The Mexican culture know a thing or two about death. As all cultures do... but the way they celebrate the dead here is so pronounced, so epic, so.... ALIVE. I was wondering all that as I was laying on my beach towel, staring at the changing skies that were shifting from blue-gray to being filled with red. BLOOD red. Is that way it is called the beach of the dead? Or is it because it is guarded by the dead? The cemetery at its entrance greets every visitor with its presence. As if saying 'You too will be buried in the ground one day. Or turned into ashes. Enjoy your life until then. Don't live your life as if you're dead already. Live it fully. Live it well. Be overjoyed.' The dog got the message. It sure did. Us humans? We still have some catching up to do... When one visits a place they have been in before, she begins scanning each place in her mind. 'Here is where we had that amazing taco.' We walked down that narrow street and got lost in it, remember?' 'That rooftop has a chill garden vibe.' It is a scan of one's memory. Sealing the experiences of the past - to clear room for the experiences of the present.
We boarded a plane off LAX and made our non-stop three hour way to Sayulita. We double masked our faces - was actually surprisingly comfortable but a longer flight would surely be a drag - and we put our stress away by watching 'Knives Out' on the plane. Before we knew it, we landed in Mexico and were about to begin the journey into traveling to another country during a global pandemic. As the plane was making its way down to land, I looked at the landscape and the small miniature homes from a bird's eye view, and was reminded of the importance of PERSPECTIVE. How crucial it is sometimes to step outside of one's self in order to see better. As I made my way through customs, through rental car companies, through the town and the beach at sunset - I noticed right away: There is a lot less fear over this virus here than in the US. Is it because there are less cases? Is it because there is less political drama? Is it because the tropical jungle and the warm waters puts people at ease...? I wondered as I started examining my own senses of fear and stress, and allowed some sense of relaxation to creep in. And just then... the night came. And with it, my hopes and dreams for my upcoming week: Relax. Rejoice. Relief. Revisit. To be continued... No, I'm not going on a cruise ship.
Or a yacht. Or a boat. Or a speed-boat. Or a paddle-board. Or a jet-ski. Or a surf-board. Or a.... I ran out of words. But what I AM doing - is going on a trip. Why not quarantine in nature!? Inspired by palm trees and coconuts and tropical weather!? Why the hell not. This year is stressed out and stressing everyone out. And if I learned anything this year it's: *TIME goes fast. *DO what the fuck you want. (just don't hurt anyone 'kay?) *SELF-CARE is the actual form of self-love everybody loves to talk about and yet not many ACTUALLY practice... *TRUST your gut. (and do what you need to do to strengthen it! That includes rigorous ab work for me) *INVEST in your DREAMS, in your HEALTH, in your RELATIONSHIPS, and in CRYPTO. ;) So all aboard to my next adventure! Stay tuned... |
AuthorIn April 2020, while experiencing her first ever global pandemic, Tamar Pelzig pledged to write something every day, even if it's only a word, so she welcomed to the world a daily blog to keep her creative writing wheels rolling. Categories
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Header Art: Daniel Landerman |