My friend gifts me a story of a woman's loss and disappointment, who escapes to the simple serenity of Southern Mexico. Her descriptions of living in an open palapa, of loving the people, the food, the hikes, are intriguing.
Within two days of finishing the book, while waiting for the dentist, thinking about the destination, my dentist walks into the room and excitedly blurts out, "Pat, I have a place you gotta see."
"Yelapa."
Twice in a week.
The same week we'd been batting around summer vacation destinations.
I wasn't feeling Europe, Asia, Canada or long bucket-listed San Juan islands, Washington state. Yelapa felt just right.
Mexico it is.
South of Yelapa is only accessible by boat. Our palapa is waiting. Basically we will be living in a hut on a deserted beach for a week.
Sun, isolation, beach, no internet. The only close restaurant is a 1/2 hour walk away. We will have picked up groceries before landing, and Tony will pack lots of snacks I'll refuse to eat. Unless starving--which is a possibility.
Books, conversation, paddle boarding, kayaking, exploration, and hikes. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Practicing French while surrounded by Spanish.
The latter two weeks we'll be living in the town of Yelapa. Restaurants, iffy-internet service, peddlers on the beach, fresh mangoes.
Sounds like Mexico. We wait for it; it won't wait for us. We adapt to it; it won't adapt to us.
Bon voyage.
Within two days of finishing the book, while waiting for the dentist, thinking about the destination, my dentist walks into the room and excitedly blurts out, "Pat, I have a place you gotta see."
"Yelapa."
Twice in a week.
The same week we'd been batting around summer vacation destinations.
I wasn't feeling Europe, Asia, Canada or long bucket-listed San Juan islands, Washington state. Yelapa felt just right.
Mexico it is.
South of Yelapa is only accessible by boat. Our palapa is waiting. Basically we will be living in a hut on a deserted beach for a week.
Sun, isolation, beach, no internet. The only close restaurant is a 1/2 hour walk away. We will have picked up groceries before landing, and Tony will pack lots of snacks I'll refuse to eat. Unless starving--which is a possibility.
Books, conversation, paddle boarding, kayaking, exploration, and hikes. Swimming, swimming, swimming. Practicing French while surrounded by Spanish.
The latter two weeks we'll be living in the town of Yelapa. Restaurants, iffy-internet service, peddlers on the beach, fresh mangoes.
Sounds like Mexico. We wait for it; it won't wait for us. We adapt to it; it won't adapt to us.
Bon voyage.
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