Living in Mexico. EVERYTHING you need to know (and then some)
it was hard to come back from heaven
September 11, 2019
It was hard this time. Coming back that is. I planned another 6-day camping trip for the dogs and I which can be a bit tricky this time of year due to the rains, but with the help of a reliable weather forecaster, we picked a week and went.
It was heaven. And no, we didn’t get rained on. But that’s not why it was heaven.
We’ve been back more than a week and I still think about it. About how ideal it was and how it proved to be more beneficial than I’d hoped. Normally I go camping because I like camping. I’m Canadian and have camped since I was pint-sized. It’s just how I grew up. Outhouses, fishing, hiking boots, log chopping, fire cooking and tent sleeping.
Flannel pajamas, wool socks, long underwear and lumberjack shirts had always been a part of my summer weekend wardrobe. That is, until I moved to Mexico. I lost all those things and in a way, a part of a life I once recognized. It had an impact.
Everything about moving here had an impact. But that too, is not why we went camping. This time, I was especially people-stressed. I’m sure someone, somewhere has coined a proper term for this. Beats the hell out of me what it would be, but to me, it’s people-stressed.
The older I get the more I appreciate a calm, quiet life. I love living in my over-sized tree-house of a home. I love the burbs and the quiet that comes when night falls and my neighbors slink back into their abodes with nothing but television light flickers silently echoing from house to house.
I’ve had people come, take one look at our private community and dislike it. One lady said it had too many trees. A male acquaintance couldn’t be “that far from the town center”, someplace I just can’t get far enough from. This is one of the main reasons I like camping.
To get far away from noise, from people, screaming kids, yelling parents, bored barking dogs and the general stresses that come with living among others. This time though, the people-stress peaked at least two weeks before we left. The trip was a mental necessity.
One of the many nice things about Mexico is the lack of reservation requirements. For most day-to-day things, one simply shows up and waits in the naturally-formed line.
This includes camping. It’s a pack-your-jeep-and-head-out experience, which is exactly what we did. We arrived, set up and immediately hit the dirt road that took us to the isolated beach areas. This is where I found heaven.
We walked, and walked and walked. For kilometers. To the end of the road. To the tip of a point before turning around and settling ourselves under a broken shelter to hide from the afternoon sun. It was heaven there too.
We were miles away from people. Not one soul did we pass. We were away from noise, stress, barking, yelling, overly chatty neighbors. The only sounds heard were that of beach shrubs in the breeze and small lapping waves. We sat for hours in our heavenly one-person, two-dog world and watched…nothing. We just sat. Not a word spoken. None were necessary. I could tell they too, were appreciating the silence as much as I was.
There is something so incredibly freeing about being that comfortable with yourself (and your dogs) that you find peace within your own company. From living here in Mexico, I’ve learned that peace, that a level of heaven, lays in one’s own solitude.