How Was Your Trip (Part 2)
Mexico with the Jew-Fro-Bro
Breathe. Traveling back to the states and onward to Mexico is an exercise in om shanti om. If there’s ever a time to practice being present, long journeys are key. Essentially I drove from Bovec, Slovenia to Milan, flew to Dublin, connected to Seattle, and onward to San Francisco. Then spend three days repacking for the tropics before flying to Puerto Vallarta and driving to San Pancho. And so began chapter two of my new nomadic life.
Breathe. Upon arrival in Mexico, as expected, it was like gradually downshifting in a manual transmission, from 5th down to 1st gear. At first, a little resistance but pretty quickly I was ambling along at a snail’s pace. The intention was to beat the rush of tourist season and spend some time in this lovely little seaside hamlet called San Francisco (San Pancho for clarity). I wanted to improve my surfing, improve my guitar skills, improve my yoga, my meditation, my cooking, my ability to just drop in and let the world come to me. I managed to swing a month home exchange in a spectacular 3-bedroom villa with a palapa just a couple of blocks from the beach. I invited my people to come join and had a full roster of stunning souls ready to parade through town.
One, in particular (let’s call him the Jew-Fro-Bro), took his recent empty nest, change in career as a sign to go all in and join me for the entire month. I was incredibly excited about having one of my dearest lifelong friends along for the journey. I was also nervous about sharing my space so completely. While I definitely wanted to find that balance of companionship and me time (mentioned in the previous post), the idea of a full-time roommate was daunting. I haven’t lived with anyone except Judah since my divorce in 2010 and have a particular set of OCDs that would present me with a challenge and an opportunity. How would we keep the place to my level of clean? Won’t we want to kill each other after a few weeks? What the hell would we talk about after a few days?
More on this in a moment. First, I want to go back to the video content and why I suddenly stopped posting. In Italy I was purposefully training myself for the longer form videos I planned to shoot. I was going to do a deep dive into my favorite dishes in Rome, showing the origins, local traditions, best restaurant preparations and even offer some tips on how to make them at home. When I was waylaid by the buggiest of bugs, I had to abandon my intention. The short form videos I had been shooting in training became the zenith of my content. And, tbh, I never intended, nor believed in trying to become a TikTok influencer. If this was all there was, I’d rather not. Moreover, I just landed in a place that was screaming for me to be fully present and spending my days filming and editing shorts just seemed empty. So, I stopped. And I didn’t regret it for a moment. There is definitely something inside of me that wants to still share, but I haven’t figured out what that looks like.
Breathe. Daily life in San Pancho quickly took shape. I would hit my favorite cafe in the morning and visit with my adopted best canine friend, Horchata. Yoga usually followed at some point in the day. Some days I would surf. Some days we would take a trip to a secluded beach and rub ourselves with clay. Almost every day I body surfed in the pounding shore break near our house. We’d watch the sunset religiously, as the entire town spilled on to the beach. At night we’d wander the streets listening to local musicians play outside one of the many restaurants and bars. I would happily cook elaborate meals and the JFB would happily clean after. We played music ourselves, watched Warriors games and sank into a routine that felt so unbelievably right.
It’s hard to describe San Pancho. In a way, I don’t want to, for fear of spoiling the surprise. The easiest way that I can paint the picture is to say that it’s a town that really speaks to me. There is an incredible diversity of people who find themselves there. You have the long-time retirees that found their paradise while Sayulita was booming and growing. Old surfers, artists, creative sorts that kept SP a sleepy outpost for many years. I discovered it while seeking respite from the ever-expanding Sayulita in the early 2000s. I always felt something. The local population are the epitome of chill Mexican entrepreneurs. The shops and restaurants are colorful, charming, hyper-local, and every soul you encounter brings smiles and warmth that leaves a mark.
Next there is the surf culture. Seemingly everyone surfs a little, but these are the daily rippers who make a life of surfing, fucking tourists, dancing in the streets, and adding a layer of casual cool across town. They’re always barefoot, always with a board under arm, always nodding in acknowledgement, and seem to fill in every crevasse on the back streets of town. Adjacent to the surfers are the international Bohemians. Not dissimilar in many ways, these are the yogis, sound healers, massage therapists, cacao ceremony, kirtan singing, temazcal sweating, drum circle, flowy, sunny souls that float around the town and the beach creating a vortex of energy that lifts San Pancho up onto the astral plane. Many of these folks are true nomads, flitting about the planet in search of nirvana.
And then there’s the gringo travelers / tourists. We are the rich Americans that come to San Pancho to try to find our slice of that Bohemia or surf life, buying homes, and over-paying for rentals, eating in the trendy restaurants and buying all of the local crafts. And we’re genuinely welcomed, as a driver of the economy and, if we’re lucky, adding to the community while we’re in town. There are clearly lines between the cliques, but the thing about San Pancho is that they can get blurry at times and everyone feels like they get to have their own slice of paradise. I’ve rarely heard a bad word spoken about the place in 20 years.
Spending time in the off season opened things up even more. I was often one of a few, if not the only, student at the Yoga studio. Last year it was packed in March. But before Thanksgiving, everyone is getting ready for the season, there’s an occasional squall, and people are happy to be emerging - shops reopening, restaurants and bars finishing renovations. Over the course of the month we saw a massive change from empty streets to bustling throngs. Which makes me concerned that, as San Pancho continues to get discovered, it could get spoiled. I don’t have the right to fear this, or judge in any way. And for now, it’s still perfect to me. The month went by in a flash (and I’m headed back in a couple of weeks for my birthday).
As our friends came and settled in, it felt like there was always a flow and never a doubt that I was supposed to be there. In contrast to Italy, where I felt like I was unproductive, I didn’t feel like I needed to produce. Everyone was on the same program. Just be. I could have stayed for many months on end and never felt like I needed to be anywhere else. In fact, when I had to go home for Thanksgiving, I was contemplating coming back for the holidays. But, I had planned to revisit Thailand and wasn’t able to make changes. So another great takeaway from my new nomad life – the expectations can go in both directions. Where Italy wasn’t all that I expected, Mexico was more than I expected. In both cases, a bit of detachment serves in moving onward.
You may be wondering how it all turned out with the Jew-Fro-Bro. Surprisingly, another learning about myself manifested. I can live with someone and manage our differences. I can set boundaries and take space when needed. I can have a good time sharing the experience with a lifelong compadre. We did make music. We did eat amazing meals. We did laugh and play like we did when we were kids. And we never ran out of things to talk about. Which reminds me of my mother and her cousin. We call them the yentas because when they are together they can talk and talk and talk for hours on end. In fact, they talk EVERY day on the phone and have a limitless well of conversation. And it felt that way with my Bro. So much so it sometimes felt like we should be hosting a podcast. I haven’t laughed that much and so hard in a long time. And we nearly talk every day now.
And so I left Mexico and turned my sites on Thailand. In part 3, we’ll get into my return to paradise.