Vale la pena / Worth It

Posted on February 25, 2019 by sceneafaire under Mexico 2019, Uncategorized

It is—it’s worth it, the loss and the gain experience renders. Um, quite the deficient sentence that is, subjectivity inferred, as worth careens inside each of us, regenerating meaning day to day, moment to moment, every second even. What I mean is these experiences are meaningful enough to us that we keep investing time and money and energy to make these trips happen. These doings, these goings, are components of our family ethos. I could do without the ants though, you know? Just this second, I felt a tender dread swell under my eyes, recalling my human brokenness and assenting to the inquest of shame, if only for a moment. See, I cannot actually attain my hopes for myself, for my children, for my marriage, for my friendships, for my God—not without great and perpetual loss. I’m not talking goals: hope. A bit dreary for someone sitting in the blinding sun, dodging winter floods, yes? No, it’s just the sun and the ocean and the why of being here allow me to sit with these emotions for shorter and longer moments and to then stand up again and make my kid a tortilla roll, pour myself a glass of mezcal even, squeezing in half a lime—salt, if I want.

Releasing hours-old baby sea turtles had me spinning thoughts about living every moment while dying every second. Most days it seems I live by hours, dying faster than I can count heartbeats or brush off sand from Sylvan’s face. I’m glad we did it and I’m glad the seagulls were there and I’m glad we watched as some of the little ones were snatched from the sand or out of the water, carried off in beaks made to do such things. I’m sad human impact on this world is what it is yesterday, today, and I weep for tomorrow because it seems insurmountable, this gross tourbillon of ours. At the same time, in the same town, one man breaks open the soft dented shell of a turtle egg, a fast bite, while another man plants one mangrove tree at a time, hoping the crocodiles and snakes will allow him this work. Both are intentional, both cultural, and only one is worth it. These things rise with such clarity, having to do with the hearts and compulsions of others. And then there’s me and my insides, demanding tenderness and grace and new mercies every turn of my head, every harsh tone aimed at my children, every iniquity. Más para mí, I continue in my callowness—until I get where I’ve gotten more than many times, and I tell the truth about myself, to myself, to a seamless God, and to those holding pieces of my spirit. I beg mercy for me just as much as for those baby sea turtles and, yeah, those seagulls too.

Days here are like this: Around 2:30 a.m. about 15 roosters start crowing (or something somewhat similar), 27 dogs begin yelping and barking, and every dang bird sings their own song. So by 6:00, when Sylvan wakes all the way up and starts asking for some food item we can’t possible find here, I’m up too. I suppose I haven’t mentioned the change in our, um, schedule. Well, about a week back Raines decided he was done with his Spanish class through the surf school. It was less of a previously discussed decision and more of a run-out-of-the-school-and-down-the-sidewalk sort of decision. Surfing was all he needed, he said, and he already knew everything his teacher was telling him, so I was going to buy him a surf board—period. Oh. Okay. Obviously I did all these things immediately to appease the eight-year-old psyche who wants Nutella-only tortilla rolls on the regular. And somebody please remind me when we get back that I owe him an iPhone or one thousand dollars—it might slip my damn mind, tired and all. Anyway (I’m not dissociating, just refocusing), the third day after he made his escape, he decided to talk with his teacher, and though I haven’t a clue what was said, they both came out smiling and she kissed me on the cheek while saying something about how precious children are. Oy…uh, and just when I wanted to put him in a box and then put that box in another box, and so on. After asking around for two more days, I finally found Marta, and we love her! She listens and cares and smiles always and wears beautiful dresses her mother makes her out of African fabrics and lives in a third-floor open-air apartment I’m sure I’ve seen in a dream somewhere and actually knows how to teach. If I get there five minutes early, Raines asks for his five minutes. Then after Spanish with Marta, I scoop him up and drive him to meet his surf instructor, David Rutherford, who is pretty much perfect for Raines. And as I’ve never heard David say “Brah” before, I’m not going to blame him for having to listen to that shit all afternoon, every time he addresses his four-year-old selkie-child brother. Eventually I’ll get some surfing photos up. Apparently he’s really doing well. And now, how to say “You’reamazingsitdownbehumble,” and only with my eyes?

So what if you can’t actually see their faces. Obviously, they’re surfers.

At this point in my glass of wine, the crocodiles (we’re going back!) will need to wait for the next post. I feel many strange and wonderful things when approaching marine biology, even just from the shore or the captivity of a boat. I know I could sit and stare at an alligator or crocodile doing pretty close to nothing for hours, and like it. I know this because I’ve done it, and even without any specific data collecting going on. It’s weird and it’s marvelous to love in holy fear. More soon.

Michael Tain & Raines hanging out at Oasis
His game, his rules. Wanna guess who always wins?

least-fav helmet of my life
ours for a few

fireman? Arborist? Surfer?
sunscreening craze

Marta!
Post-surfing Raines
Funeral for a crab

Sylvan’s first surfing lesson

Sylvan said he will go surfing again when he’s eight

Gallo de Mar Hostel, La Punta, Puerto Escondido

Also back at home…our favorite Triceratops was feeling depressed.

precious plastic things

Home & Jeep!
me, most days

Meanwhile, back home in Tennessee: Eeeeek!

FaceTiming Dad from the beach

This beach is 60% metal (La Ventanilla, Mazunte)

Our guide, Elián, took this photo for me so the crocodile would eat him first and then have to go five feet farther to eat me.

San Agustinillo

El río

Riding off into the sunset with some very annoyed horses.

Final Days in Mexico

Posted on February 23, 2014 by sceneafaire under Mexico 2014

I spent this past week with spotty wifi, my family, Mexican highways, Mayan ruins, and the Caribbean coast. I made the call not to hunch myself over in the corners of rooms or hang over balconies to get a signal (at least not every day), so I’m posting now instead of then. Plus, I was napping more with Papá here, ya know. Aaron arrived last Sunday and I started breathing deeper breaths again. That first night with him after a lifetime-like month, I slept like an undisturbed cat. Raines Wilder also exchanged our slothy moments together for battles with Papá. “We can protect Mama now, you and me, Papa. We are SO strong, but not Mama. She’s not very strong because of the baaaby.” Poor, weak Mama, uh-huh. I’m definitely over trying to cover up the sentiment of walking up three stairs and wanting to lay down on the fourth, so I glare only a little bit at these remarks.

Skipping back a few days, I’ll mention my favorite times in the city. The taxista (Angel: he asked for us to use the English spelling and pronunciation so okay) who took us to R’s school every day was extremely helpful and kind. He even brought one of his sons along one day to hang out with us. He knew I wanted to check out more of the local markets instead of checking out pet stores at the mall or something. So he took me to a tianguis (outdoor market on wheels/in tents, held on a certain day of the week in a certain part of town) on a Thursday, and then to another one on Friday. I was so happy that I ate a taco de lengua (pig tongue) AND tried uno de oreja (ear)… first one good, second one, um, you should try for yourself and tell me whatcha think ;-). I found some beautiful playeras and little necessities along the way. At the second tianguis I had the most amazing quesadilla and only thought about heart burn and acid reflux from my pregnantness for a second or two. I bought a bag of caimitos for 10 pesos and ate one of these brilliantly sweet and colorful fruits in the street. These days were so good. Even Raines Wilder had his best times at school, and was a little too happy to tell me about one of his little friends having a potty accident, but not him nooo no.

We spent Monday in Mérida, showing Papá our favorite sculptures and paintings, ice skating, and saying hellos and goodbyes to Silvio and Norma. Oh, and then I let Aaron repack all our stuff, including the priceless goods we’d acquired during our stay—hee. Tuesday we breakfasted in the sweet little café outside our apartment, got in our fancy rental car, and headed to Chichén Itza and the Caribbean beyond. I drove (now only needed for the logistical side of things and such) and Raines and Papá worked on new skills in the back seat. I focused on slowing down for the topes (giant speedbumps) that showed up before, during, and after going through populated areas. It went okay, as I only air launched us a handful of times (sometimes they were just there, all of sudden, out of seriously nowhere ummm).

Huge, impressive, hot—Chichén Itza. Ruins always intrigue me, and this site in its grandiosity, layout, and history, is definitely sparkly for me. I’m wandering around looking for dates and info while the menfolk are looking annoyed at all the pesky ropes, blocking entrance to the temples. Raines Wilder decided the Mayans lived on the top of the pyramids (he didn’t like my version as much) and that he’d like to live there too. Both Aaron and Raines Wilder decided it’d be way cooler if you could actually go inside these things. Yeah, yeah, but not everyone is as cool and strong as you guys, and tourists ruin things, etc. I’m sure I sounded like Blah blah, Papá and Raines are so strong. So we just kept dodging into tiny streams of shade. The boy wasn’t as interested in the stories of heads rolling down temple steps as he was concerned about whether los españoles came and died here, or if maybe they built some of this stuff too (no, the less-cool cities, I said; they built those). Overall, cool spot and we didn’t end up throwing our kid into the sacred cenote as a sacrifice. Even though his blood is probably pretty pure. So back into the car and onward.

We got to Tulum (the city) some longer minutes later that day, and sketched out hotel options. I’m grateful and okay to admit that we did not opt for a tent or shack on the beach. Uh, basically I think we took our honeymoon, or maybe someone else’s even, in this place. We stayed at Playa Azul with sand at our toetips and the princess bed of my 10-year-old dreams. There was even a bowl outside our door to wash the sand from our feet. Upon noticing this, Raines Wilder stepped in, peed, and smiled back at us. I woke up to a pristine sunrise the next morning and then decided to stare at my husband and child until they woke up. After breakfast we drove the easy five-minute road to the ruins of Tulum. This place may end up being my favorite ruins I’ve visited… ever (Tikal is super hard to beat, though, with monkeys throwing things at you, crocodile ponds, and the freaking trees!). Tulum isn’t a giant site, but it’s absolutely incredible. The city was built on a cliff, overlooking the Caribbean ocean. Apparently the Mayans stuck around this place for nearly 100 years after the Spanish invited themselves over—impressive (on the Mayan side, I mean). Iguanas are everywhere here, bobbing their heads around and staring at you. After we talked more about the lame ropes saying no to us everywhere, we got to go swim at the bottom of the cliff. Incredible. Amazing. And a girl was even throwing up in a bag next to me at one point (maybe she got pregnant with all the romance of this place). But truly, this place is beautiful. After visiting the ruins, we got to go back to the beach and had an awesome day before driving back to the airport the following morning. We stopped by Grand Cenote on our way back across the peninsula and got to watch turtles and divers. I wish we could’ve visited more of these places (crazy sinkholes all over the Yucatán, believed by the Mayans to be sacred wells and portholes to the gods, plus coming with freaky legends, etc.). Next time, I suppose.

I know this post is long and full of so many words, so it’s totally fine if you don’t make it down to this paragraph. But we flew all the way home on Friday, leaving the Yucatán basically the same as it was and trekking back with one whole kid who speaks less Spanglish and more Spanish than he did a few weeks ago. And my stomach is way bigger. And Aaron now has cowlicks in his beard. And our house is still the best home. And our animals are so happy and cuddly. I am so grateful for our ability to travel and share these experiences. I also find great peace and pleasure in stepping through our door onto these wood floors. It didn’t make it worse that we came home to sunny, warm days here in Nashville. So next year we’ll have to figure out what to do with 2 loving urchin children. Maybe we can take an Abuelita or a Tío Roddy or a Canción and Miela along with us. And now I’m gonna go drink another cup of coffee and see if my kid has any pants on yet.

Missing Aaron

Sometimes 5:30 p.m. means this

Last day at school, with his Maestra Paty!

Wonderful mornings at our neighborhood café

Tianguis

Taco de lengua

Caimito

Angel, eating the amazing quesadilla

ay, I love him

I understand if you have conflicting feelings about this one. Just know that he decided that he’d be on the Mayan side, not with the conquistadores.

Baby in a (breathable) bag. Why haven’t we played this before…?

Modeling things I make is not his favorite thing

Waiting for Papá to walk through the door at the airport

Papá is here and it is so good

Raines Wilder would like to buy this rope and take it home

Transformer birds and arte

Ice skating dreams fulfilled. In Mexico, of course.

Chichén yo!

Familia. Standing in front of thousands of pillars. Whoa

Templo de los guerreros [Temple of the Warriors]

About to walk through the wall into Tulum. And yeah, check that kid’s outfit.

Giant iguana by Aaron, guarding his cave home

Awesome cliff view

I mean, whaaaaaaa!?!?!

All 4 of us, staring into the super-bright sun

Cliffside beach–swimming at the ruins!

La la land

Tulum

The boy and his Papá walked outside to the beach, so I stayed here and took a nap.

Raines Wilder helped two girls with dig these

Tulum

Bright and shiny sand. Raines Wilder, Aaron, and Kai (a beach friend). Yeah, and then there’s me and the boy, all bleached out in the sun

He lost his shovel to the sea. But then he found 5 pesos in the sand, so this frown didn’t last too long

Sunrise in Tulum. From our balcony

Crazyland

Gran Cenote

oooooh

The boy is pretty awesome with a Polaroid camera

Last night in Mexico

Mérida airport, about to head home!

Nashville!

So good to be back!

Pop Tarts, el Tigre Macho, and Considering Colonialism

Posted on February 11, 2014 by sceneafaire under Mexico 2014, Uncategorized

I think someone should know that I bought a box of cherry pop tarts and some chocolate twinkie-like things. I’m hiding them from Raines Wilder (he can have hummus and cheese if he wants a snack). I already ate one of the smushy brownie cakes and it gave me a nice high that I’m still enjoying as I type. No guilt involved, mind you, but it just seems like it’d be more fun to share these boxed goods with another person (and Aaron doesn’t get here until Sunday night). Oh yeah, did I mention that he’s coming on SUNDAY!? I am becoming more and more convinced that I’ve been sent through the transmogrifier at least twice now, which seems to explain this newer sensation of missing home and husband until it hurts all the way to my partially expanding lungs (7 months pregnant yo). Not that I didn’t miss him before (so much, Baby, always), but before Aaron and our good life (and wading through our muck, ahem) I wanted to go all the way around the world and to the sky and didn’t mind not knowing a single detail or if I’d even be coming back. One of my longest-running fancies had to do with me ending up somewhere and forgetting how to speak English. Anyway, I cannot wait to wrap my arms around my love when he gets here. And given that I’m such a mushpot these days, I’m sure I’ll end up being this sobbing pregnant lady with hoodlum-ragamuffin child in tow.

We went to the zoo again on Sunday and had an amazing time. Zoo highlights: When R said “hola” to the giant White Tiger, the cat backed up, turned around, and sprayed his machismo directly at us. I swooped my kid to the side and we barely escaped his “misting.” Guácala [gross]. And then this one crocodile stared at R for forever, imagining just exactly what he would taste like. And other good things.

By the way, we are SO happy this week. We moved into our new apartment here in North Mérida, where we each have our own room and bathroom (what!). Raines Wilder has designated one bed for Papá, one bed for me, and one of the giant closets for him. Okay. We are so grateful to Norma and Silvio (and pup-pup Lucas) for opening their home to us our first few weeks here. We were safe and had our own balcony from which to blow bubbles. So I got our stuffed moved across town to our new digs, and then found out that my most beautiful niece Aegis was born yesterday morning! Kathryn was able to have her at home and in water. I am ecstatically proud of her and cannot wait to meet her. Good, good day! Also, Raines entertained himself for about 2 hours by organizing and reorganizing all of the precious “toys” he’s accumulated since we got here. And I propped myself up on three pillows.

I need to tell you about my kid and the Mayans. Our first day in Mérida we went downtown with Norma and Silvio and walked through a museum. After passing through some interesting exhibits (our two favorite sculptures are the transformer bird made out of discarded motor parts and the bull’s head, made from discarded metal pieces), we went into a smaller room showing some works of Fernando Castro Pacheco. Raines Wilder was immediately drawn to the biggest mural on the wall, Las Tres Etapas Históricas del Pueblo Yucateco. The mural depicts three principal phases through which Mayans suffered after the Spanish arrived on the Yucatán. Each of the three images poetically conveys the truculence endured by the indigenous peoples on this peninsula during the Spanish conquest. Thousands upon thousands of Mayans were subjugated by steel-wielding, horse-mounted, disease-carrying proxies of colonialism. Oh, let me stop myself there or my face will start to hurt. Raines wants to know, to really understand why they are shooting arrows at this man; why their villages are on fire; why this man was killed by the pointy cactus. We sat in front of this painting and talked about what was happening a bit. We’ve since watched many videos and read many stories about the history of the Mayans. And I may have added a few of my own interpretations and opinions about these happenings. In fact, last night as he was melting from a symptom of childhood, he repeatedly told me that all he wanted was the story of the Mayans and Papá. We’ve been back to visit this mural again, and it ended up being the only thing we did in the city that day. The Mayans were warriors, too, by the way; Raines Wilder will tell you they weren’t the only ones to die. My small one sat in front of the painting for nearly half an hour. Maybe longer. He was thinking about how it made him feel and how he’d like a spear like that one in the painting. He wouldn’t shoot the Mayans, he said, but probably the conquistadores. Let’s see how his brain and heart mapping works out over these next few years. Ajit, I’ll need your help here too.

So yes, a good week so far and getting even better as we count down our days until Aaron gets here to love and help. Raines Wilder is in school again today and doing wonderfully with everyone there. His sugar intake is still astronomical and my energy levels are still sapped, but here we are in our third week in Mexico. I’m off to drink a cup of caffeine (and yes, I get asked if I’m sure I don’t want decaf every time I order a coffee). And no, I don’t want to drink pineapple juice on the beach all day either.

A lot to prove. Trying to crush a rock with his [rubber] Batman shoe. It’s okay, I said, you can try again later.

Instructing me on how I need to hold on while riding the bus.

Abrazos para Los Gorditos.

Considering colonialism

Blowing bubbles in the plaza, missing Colleen.

Mérida rooftops

Cueva

Norma’s mother, a few years ago.

Poor kid in his socks. He did this over and over and got so good at it.

Please come do this with me.

El Macho Macho Macho

Cocodrilo

SO happy to Skype with “Mom” and G-Pa! We love and miss you mucho.

29 semanas

About to move

Aegis MacIvor-Andersen, my beautiful niece

Wanting to clean our new, already super-clean apartment. Well, okay.

Se ha dicho que la revolución no necesita el arte, pero que el arte necesita la revolución. Eso no es cierto. La revolución sí necesita de un arte revolucionario.
–Diego Rivera

La Verdadera Realidad de la Realidad

Posted on February 7, 2014 by sceneafaire under Mexico 2014, Uncategorized

Perhaps my last post put some of you dear ones on edge, leaving you concerned and burdened with our long, bad day. But look, our days got better and we even went to see the new Lego movie tonight (popcorn, Icee, multiple bathroom trips and all). I absolutely could’ve skipped over this past week and left the fancy Mexican highlights in the open, but then that’s not life in general—and it’d be honesty covered in spit. Not once have I taken a trip and butterflied through it without a hard day or two or five. For me, the ruby is all in my reaction to my situation: How do I respond to, escape from, battle, ninja strike, etcetera whatever black rain cloud I’m staring at? And even if I go at it all wrong and slam my toe in a door, I’ll have future retrospection (whoa, weird but works) to learn from…but obviously better to get the shit right the first time, yeah? I will admit that this pregnancy has bent me a bit, and I’m much more tired all day and night than usual (if I can recall life before this train). But we’re here now so the boy can reinforce his Spanish skills all day every day, and also because who knows what kind of what Bebé Dos is gonna be and when/if we’ll ever be able to leave our house again. Basically, point of paragraph: honesty from me to you.

Raines Wilder has had a wonderful three days at his Mac Paty school (ahahahaa…sorry I just can’t not be happy about the name). He hasn’t opted to eat much of the Yucatecan food yet, but he did go for the cake and fruit loops (???) that were served at a birthday celebration today. Anyway. Oh yes, I finally found a local little café: Las Orquídeas Restaurante y Café. My eggs even came with jalapeños in them. And even though the server kept taking my napkin away, he always brought me a new one. So poor Starbucks will have to go back to dealing with their own again. Also, I wore this super motherly top today—one that Canción gave me (I love you and ache with the miles between us)—and felt pretty and pregnant. Surface topic. Whatever, it mattered today.

I have no clear idea of what we will do tomorrow (er, shower…?), but I think things get real here on the weekends. Maybe we’ll go try to find a black rope again, since he seems to be clinching onto this memory relentlessly. Either and all the ways, we’ve got good coming. I now have a pink Nokia phone that I could totally show off with when I get home, but it’s just practical. I mean, his school’s gotta have a way to contact me, right? So Salúd, damas y caballeros, y buenas noches hasta que llegue la luz del sol de nuevo.

A funny shape in the Starbux mirror

There are some tuff kit cats around here, and then there are some named Misha.

Picking the boy up from his escuelita is fantastic.

Papa, guess who picked the PINK balloons? Aaaand they never seem to go away, no matter how many I accidentally pop a day.

“El sol, está en mis ojos. ¿Puedes moverlo, Mami?”
“The sun, it’s in my eyes. Can you move it, Mommy?”

Shirt of the day, thanks to my sweet Cancioncita

Waiting on our taxi to take us to our MOOOOOVIE

Do we care about Legos yet? Well, that was fun anyway.

Beating the Hell out of Tuesday: Why Wednesday Wins

Posted on February 6, 2014 by sceneafaire under Mexico 2014, Uncategorized

Tuesday was supposed to be Raines Wilder’s first day at the Nemo-Piglet school. And it was supposed to be a frenetically fantastic day for me and my brain. That morning we got up, ate breakfast, had a tense discussion about brushing his hair, and skipped out the door to head to his class. I was hopeful and excited about getting this going for us. We had to skip the train ride that morning because he couldn’t seem to find anything sweet or remotely loving to say to me. And spiders have five legs, by the way, not eight. I’m so wrong all the time every second always. So hasta mañana, trencito. We were met at the school entrance by the director, who scrunched up her face and told me that, you see, there’s a bit of a chicken pox outbreak among the children. She didn’t actually say it was chicken pox at first, but referred to it as a skin virus. So I asked her if she could tell me exactly what it was, which involved her turning the computer on and trying to find what it is called. She had a nurse come downstairs to talk with me about it more extensively. And as this nurse is explaining to me that la varicela (chicken pox) wouldn’t be harmful to the boy, it could be very dangerous for my pregnancy. I really wonder what my facial expression was stuck on at this point. Also, in the middle of her explication I got one of my lovely sweats and had to hold onto the wall while she finished talking. They said it was totally up to me whether Raines stayed or not, and while he may very well get chicken pox at some point, I say no gracias to him having them here and now. Jesus please no. I had to lay down outside the school before walking us back to the house, where Norma pointed out that my face was empty looking and I should go lay down. This is where I remember our day starting to scrape around all the grime from the bottoms of our feet.

I let Raines Wilder watch a few episodes on his iPad while I slothed myself down onto the bed. After about an hour I said, okay kid, we gotta turn that thing off and go look for another school. 1.5 seconds later the boy lost his shit. I mean, torrentially so. There was screaming and growling and a few other forms of aggression. I was already at a heightened state of feeling stressed, and not having anywhere private to handle this rampaging creature whom I love pitched me into desperation. I couldn’t find a closet that I could fit into, so there I was, holding the glass balcony door closed while I sat on the other side of the wall crying. On the other side of the glass stood my son, who was banging on the door and demanding that I put the battery back in his iPad (I had turned it off). See, at home we’ve got protocol for this kind of mess. The longest his tirades usually last at home is 30 minutes or so. Apparently Mexico has given him super-tantrum skills. He went on crying and lamenting the loss of his iPad for about 2 hours. Yes, my nerves were bright red and yellow and green. And yeah, sometimes I lock myself in the bathroom at home until I can come out and love again. It’s safe. It’s what happens sometimes.

By the end of our day, I looked like this:

I’m not showing you the rest of my face because it was just too startling. Heh.

Things got better. Yesterday was many monies better and today is too. I don’t share any of this to remind myself of things I’d like to slush into a never-happened history. I write this down because it was our Tuesday. It happened, and I didn’t walk through it with Raines Wilder just as I would’ve hoped to. Not my kind of mothering, I’ll have to say. We totally miss Papa and our days are so different here, and my small one doesn’t yet grasp all the shifts and clefts that travel can design. Really, neither do I. I guess I just choose to be upset over things other than the iPad. The only thing I repeated all through the day to him was that I love him, and will not allow him to handle himself this way. I love him. I love him. I love him.

But school happened yesterday and is happening again today! Estancia Infantil Mac Paty seems to be a success! And we got him a bright green fútbol for our evenings at the park. So here I am, sitting at Starbucks (my options here are Starbucks and Italian Coffee Company, or one of the coffee stands in the mall We can talk about this weirdness later), channeling Raines Wilder’s tranquility at school with my blackberry pastry and latte. Check it.

In the Streets

Posted on January 30, 2014 by sceneafaire under Mexico 2014, Uncategorized

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

Trips and Loves

Tag Archives: Mexico