For the umpteenth time, I walked Avenida Tulum back to the hotel, after spending five excruciating minutes hesitating between a flan or a natilla at the convenience store, whatever the latter is. I chose natilla. Can’t go wrong with something you don’t know.
On my way back, I slowed down passing a bar playing live music. The band was four or five black guys with trumpets and saxophones. The music was extremely loud and catchy.
There were more people outside, on the street, drinking and smoking, than dancing, but a couple was having the time of their life. She was maybe five-foot tall, 170 pounds. Her heels were too high, her black leggings too tight and her red shirt barely covered her breasts. He was about her height, dressed in black from head to toes and he wore these pointy boots Mexican men seem to love.
And they were dancing, totally oblivious to the crowd watching them. I had never seen a woman so sexy, so confident. Her body moved perfectly to the music. She was expressing herself so beautifully that I wanted to cry.
I admire anyone who can dance—I can’t. And I admire anyone who is enjoying the moment with passion.
This is life.
In Valladolid, where we spent the night after Chichen Itza, we stumbled upon a huge mass being held outside the Convent de San Bernardino de Siena. The crowd was chanting, dancing, chatting and… yes, eating! There was a bunch of street food stalls selling pop corn, marquisetas (local crêpes) and other dulces and people were having the time of their life worshiping and socializing.
Mark loved it too. He was dancing to… yep, the Eucharistic liturgy.
This is life.
I feel alive here.
Sure, it’s nice to live in a country where people queue properly, are polite and considerate of others, where laws are being enforced and where security is paramount. It’s nice that people are careful not to bother each other, to respect personal space, personal opinions, personal property. Where there is no smoking, no drinking, no partying outside, no loitering, where the streets are clean and the people dressed appropriately for a 9-to-5 job. Where people care about their health, want to achieve measurable goals, save money, are responsible and care about their future.
But it’s not fun.
I feel anesthetized in Canada. And it’s not just the cold.
I like chaos, I like the unpredictable and I like spontaneity. I like socializing and having loud arguments and yes, I enjoy swimming naked if I feel like it, having a smoke with my coffee, letting my son run wild in the street and screw whatever trendy education principle. I’m a hedonist at heart. My French side, probably.
Life is more fun when it’s not perfect.
Screw what I should do. I need to reconnect with what I love instead of trying to fit in.
Life is a blank canvas. I will try to create something good instead of colouring within the lines.
Do I sound like a rebel teen? Meh. Who cares.
We are making our way back to the coast and flying to Canada soon. I need time to think.