I love this country. I love the chaotic efficiency that I’ve observed in everything from a marina checkins to hopping off a bus (they don’t quite stop to let you off). Speaking of busses, I love that they are all different. Today I saw one with a spoiler (after market on this model of Mercedes bus, I’m fairly certain) and a Hot Wheels® decal. Tonight’s bus was blaring tradtional mexican music alternating with hip hop.
I love that you can feed a family of 4, well, on 170 pesos (about $15US). Or do two weeks of laundry for the messiest family in N. America for about $30US. I love that everybody that I’ve tried to speak with has returned my curiosity tenfold and, in most cases, been overwhelmingly friendly. I will admit to buying off a cab driver with chocolate, but it was worth it when I saw his smile.
I love that there is a city block dedicated to a nativity scene, and it has live animals. I love the live music pouring out from the windows at the Theater as we walked home from dinner. I loved the musician’s friends outside, beaming with pride as they pointed their friends out to us.
I love the beauty in decay. The cycle of death and rebirth that is persistently evident.
And that’s just the city. Nature here is just as dramatic, just as foreign. The white sand beaches abut tall ochre mountains, covered in cactus and lizards and harried from above by condors. Tire of that and it’s off to the reef for some snorkling. Below the waves I discover violettes and indigos and golden yellows that I only dreamed of on animals. I lunge forward and spend a moment in the middle of a school of large fish, each one as long as my arm. Later, when I can swim not another span, I clamor back into the dingy and head back to our movable home. The kids greet me with smiles plastered on their faces because they just spent the morning playing with a couple of 20somethings while we were off on our underwater date.
I love Mexico and when we have traveled 30,000 some odd miles, I hope to come back here and do it all over again.