I’m not bundled into a Jeep heading off on an adventure to the Sian Ka’an nature reserve like I’d planned today. I just canceled the hire car reservation, as the rain is too heavy to drive anywhere.
I’ve been waiting to make the trip to the remote fishing village of Punta Allen and the protected nature reserve surrounding it for some time now (its a 3 hr drive down an unsealed, potholed road south of Tulum), saving the trip for when Tyrhone’s little sister visited. She’s been here for two weeks now and we’ve skydived, snorkeled in cenotes, visited ancient ruins, stayed in a luxury resort and gone horse riding on the beach. This trip was going to be our last big adventure together before she flies back to London on Sunday.
But nature had other plans for us today.
The storm rolled in two nights ago, drenching Playa del Carmen with fat drops of rain and covering us in a blanket of grey cloud that stretched out over the Caribbean to the dark horizon. The usually blue water was churned to a silvery grey, choppy and uninviting.
I feel for the holiday makers who are here for a few days or maybe a week, venturing away from their busy lives to lie on the beach and get a tan, investing their ‘hard earned money’ in a ‘well earned break’, only to be greeted by ominously grey skies and flooded sidewalks.
I guess it’s the off season for a reason.
And while I am a little disappointed that we are not currently braving Tyrhone’s four-wheel-driving skills, negotiating the dirt road to the small fishing village of Punta Allen and the lobster dinner that awaits (okay, maybe more than a little!), I find myself in a state of acceptance, realising that it just wasn’t meant to be today.
Of course, I feel for Taunee, Tyrhone’s sister, who is convinced that she brought the London weather with her, but I’m grateful for the almost two weeks of (searingly hot) sunny days she got to experience before the rains tracked her down.
I’m reminded about not being in control, and of not being in a state of ‘trying’ but of letting go instead. Of having good intentions but realising I’m not responsible for anything other than my own mind state. That is the only thing I have some power to change; my thinking and my perception, not other people and theirs.
Nature always reminds me of my own insignificance, of being a tiny grain of sand in the vast desert, and I find it comforting to be aware of my own smallness.
Today the rain falls outside my window, pooling in the garden and threatening to flood our ground floor apartment, making ‘going’ anywhere or ‘doing’ anything rather difficult.
So instead, I’ll write about it, enjoying the sound of the rain as it spills off the roof and into the lush, waterlogged garden, reminding myself how lucky I am that I have nowhere in particular to be but here.
Artwork by Tyrhone