Good day so far, today. We found this three-peso train machine-type thing a block from the house. I told Raines that if he can save his pesos we can come take a ride every morning. He said no problem, he has SO much money (um, give it to your mama, please). After receiving multiple sweet compliments about him being a beautiful little girl—just like a doll, ya know—we continued down the block and visited a little school. First of all, Tigger and Piglet are on the front banner for this place, so we’re both like yeah, we can dig this. We met with the director and she showed us around. This place seems perfect, educational and interactive. Raines Wilder starts next Tuesday at this place. I’m thinking by that point he’ll be needing a break from my lame battling styles and book-reading skills. He’ll want more. And I’ll get to catch up on some work projects, knit, and think about my sciatic nerve.
Yesterday we took a bus downtown and weaved through the streets of Mérida, watching our step along the way. The boy was intent on finding a black rope to buy, which became a public situation until we found some balloons. I love and hate these types of solutions. It was kinda weird how we could find every other color of rope, but no, not a black one. We waited an hour-ish for the bus home. Meanwhile there we are standing streetside in this old, marching city and I start to feel green. I mean green and dizzy, I guess. Sitting down wasn’t a good option, so I just tried to focus on specific cracks in the wall. All we needed was one R1 bus to come at us, none of this R2, R3 mess. And I’m sweating at least 25% more than normal, I’d say. If I had been alone, just me and little one inside, I would’ve cashed out and found a coffee shop or a glass of wine somewhere. So obviously traveling with a smaller one changes things up a bit, mainly affecting the crevices and every detail of a trip. This kid’s incredible though, powerful as he tells me on occasion, so we’ll be making our way through our days together here and I’m good with it.
Perhaps I’m being vague, so I’ll sketch it out a little here. I love traveling. I love the idea of travel. I love my son. I love the idea of traveling with my son. It’s not always (and sometimes not for days) dreamland, which isn’t the purpose of doing it anyway exactly. I get to know some of the best and most ridiculous sides of me in situations such as these. And now I get to take the boy along, to step out of our lovely life in Nashville for a bit and learn to give a shit in a new way. I mean a lot of things by this. I’m 27; he’s 3. He gets to think about colonialism and the Spanish conquest and recognize that it’s interesting and sad and there are so many bad guys involved. I get to revisit and reinvent my love for experiencing people and cultural history. So I don’t expect it to be by-the-beach easy or a dream vacation really. But I expect it to be worth it, hopefully worth it for everyone we meet along the way too, not just us. We shall see. So now I’m gonna go stare at my soaking wet shoes that are supposed to be drying in the sun. I’d bet you three pesos that they won’t be dry until February 21.
Bus ride home, all 3 of us
Just before our $2 umbrella went down
Scéne á faire 