Our time on Mexico’s Caribbean coast is coming to an end as they say all good things must. And it’s certainly been a good thing, one of the best I’ve ever experienced. I’m sad to leave, but excited about what’s next; torn between wanting to continue this very good thing as well as experience all the exciting adventures that lie ahead. It’s a blessed dilemma.
It’s a blessed life, and I’m so grateful for the love and the energy these last few months have bestowed upon me. Settling in one place for a while has allowed certain things to rise to the surface and I’ve grown a lot. I feel very different to when I arrived, more energised, more accepting, happier and more loving.
I love it here and I love the life we’ve settled into. It’s been a creative time, a time of progress personally and professionally. Tyrhone and my relationship has evolved again as we find deeper happiness within ourselves, following our own individual journeys within the one we are on together. My love for him is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given.
This too, shall pass, as it always does. Challenges arise, conflicts bubble up, fear and insecurity sets in. That too, shall pass as I learn the lessons I need to learn to prepare me for my onward journey. I feel like I’m a student of life at the moment (though I know I always have been). Every time I think I know something, I’m quickly reminded how much more I’m yet to learn.
It’s impossible to put into words all of the little experiences and moments of joy that have led me to fall in love with this place (but I’ll try!). Evening walks through the town square where some sort of fiesta or concert was taking place; finally entering the courtyard of the town’s municipal building to snap a photo or three of the magnificent azure mural that caught my eye and lifted my spirits every time I passed it.
Being the only gringa in a local supermarket, elbow to shoulder with stout Mexican mothers as we tested the avocados for ripeness (my elbow to their shoulders!); hearing a “hola” from behind me and turning to see the young caretaker of our building proudly grinning as he bounced his one-year-old-son on his hip.
Walking past the stucco white Church as mass was drawing to a close, the congregation spilling out onto the dimly lit street where food vendors waited in silent anticipation. Going into the church for a peak during the day and realising I much prefer it full of people and hymns at night.
The look of shock on our lovely landlord’s face when I plucked up the courage to greet him in Spanish, and the smile from my favourite laundry lady as she remembered my name.
New friends who have loaned me books, taken me to their favourite restaurants, and told me I must return. From the US, or Mexico, Switzerland or Canada, living here either full or part-time, I’ve loved the eclectic bunch of people I’ve encountered who have opened their hearts to me and let me be a part of their lives here.
I’m reminding myself to stay in the moment and to accept that change is upon us. Since things have gone so well so far, they will surely continue to. I’m grateful that I’m sad to leave, and am already excited about coming back some day. Thankfully, we both feel the same way.
There was a van parked in front of our building for most of the time we’ve been here. A tall, tanned guy lived in the vehicle which had the phrase ‘My Home is in My Head’ emblazoned across it. It recently disappeared along with its mysterious resident, though I’m sure wherever they went, they are still at home.
As an Australian and a South-African who met in London, moved to Perth then decided to travel the world; we may have just discovered what ‘home’ really feels like. I just hope we can take it with us.
Thanks for reading, and thank you to everyone who has liked the Sarah Somewhere Facebook page, where I’ll be posting more photos and updates from our travels.
Read my latest post on The Rickshaw Run Diaries: The (Un) Route! 7 weeks to go!