Extraño Mexico (I miss Mexico)

This guy seems to be looking for warmer shores. Or perhaps just a tasty fish. As for me, I miss Mexico so much I feel it in my bones, on my skin, in my feet. I want to pack a bag and get on the plane tonight.

My friends in Puerto Vallarta tell me this is the rainiest rainy season in 50 years, with multiple torrential downpours per day, washed out roads and bridges, flooding. I can only imagine the jungle there now: conflagration of green!

I'll wait til things dry out a bit. And until I finish my current journey (Book Numero Uno).

But if I shut my eyes, I taste the avocados. Smell lime. I see the sun dropping into the ocean. I hear banda music blaring from a pickup truck late at night. My feet in flip-flops familiar with the cobblestone streets. The people who somehow look at me and know me, immediately.

Miss Mexico as much as a lover. More than.

OHHHHHHHH.

Ultimo dia en Mexico

Last day in Mexico. Everything took on a new sheen, down to the 3am techno music wake up call and dusty streets.

My mind said how can you leave Mexico? My heart answered you don't leave Mexico. It stays in you forever, no matter where you go.

My Mexican friends only said cuando regresas? When are you coming back? For them it was a given that I was only leaving for a little while.

I started this blog to chronicle the journey from Maine to Mexico. Today I realized that somewhere along the way, I'd already placed a period after Maine. Winter in Maine. Period.

And yet, God had placed a comma. Maine, the place where I'll go through the editing process.

I feel quite comfortable with the continuation of From Icy to Spicy because while I will be departing Vallarta, I've become one spicy woman.

So stay tuned.

Dark

Amongst all the cosmic bliss, there are dark days. Days where I have stood, clothing drenched with sweat, at the bottom of 10 flights of stairs up to my apartment and thought, when's the next plane out? Days where loneliness aches. Days worry rears its head. Days an evil voice hisses what do you think you're doing here?

Or nights where you wake up, your chest clenched and heart racing. I'd had a round of tropical respiratory voodoo and self-treated with antibiotics recommended by the pharmacist. Turns out they were the wrong ones, at the wrong dose. Sometimes traditional medicine - something I don't put much stock in - does help.

That night, I felt so dizzy and out of it, I thought I might be severely dehydrated. I called the only person I knew to call - Jose, the building manager - and asked him where I should go. He said he would come and take me to the doctor. As this was happening, my gringo neighbors came back from a late night of partying. They asked me what was wrong and when I told them, replied, "Well, there's a hospital right up the street. Try drinking water." Their door clanged shut.

Note to self: when you encounter a neighbor who is sick and disoriented, help the person!

The dark moment showed me what I've already seen here: that Mexicans embrace you as family, if you're willing to hold out your arms to them.