Quintana Roo

Writing has become difficult for me, creating in general has become arduous and I am waiting patiently for a shift. A quick glance of the head in a direction that has escaped my awareness for the weeks that have flown by so meek and dry. I've always known that I would travel well, that one day I would acquire enough courage to set myself free from the iron western web and ride the currents of the wind down paths known to no one I encountered in the city. My upbringing was not ordinary, and because it was not ordinary I have known more homes than I can count on my two hands. Maybe my blood has been cursed, or maybe blessed, destined to run through the veins of a nomad. A few months ago I began to lose touch with a serendipitous flow that had become my sole mode of being. My dysthymia returned, dull and obstructing. I thought that if I answered the incessant call to leave the life that had become habitual in the three years that I have been living in Vancouver that it would return to me again. So that's what I did, gave up the Pacific North Western winter, a home that had become a sanctuary filled with belongings that spoke the story of my life, in exchange for an 80 liter emerald green backpack and a one way ticket to Central America. Here I am now, sitting under a wooden bungalow near Tulum, Brandon playing a compact electric guitar as a fellow traveller accompanies with a harmonica behind me, Devon writing a love letter to Grady from across the table, Matous on a journey into town under the scorching heat and little Aidan sleeping atop the yellow table, his face covered with a wide brimmed leather hat from the sun. We have spent these first days in a bungalow hostel in Cancun centro, tasting our first delicious taste of small town Mexican life, eating cheap, authentic empanadas, watching the chilled, passionate flow of it's people from the terrace, sneaking into a five star resort so that I could feel the Caribbean Sea on my skin for the very first time. Then we rode down to Playa del Carmen, then to Tulum where we walked into the Reserva de la Biosfera Sian-Ka'an as the sun set and settled between a circular collection of palms on the secluded shoreline, sleeping under the stars without a tent as scorpions and iguanas roamed around us. We spent a few days there, the boys picked coconuts and broke them open on tree stubs, we cooked beans and rice on the fire and watched a full, orange, gargantuan moon rise over the ocean. We then hitched a ride back into town, to rest, refuel and recharge, and we're about to packup and head back to the playa, to see what awaits us. 

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