The view couldn’t be beat, the food was good, fish there for the catching, and I got the alone time I desperately needed. This trip to Mexico served its purpose. I’m ready now.
I returned to the United States Sunday, after nearly two weeks solo at an Airbnb in Todos Santos, Baja Sur. The goal was to slow the hell down, have time to think, develop a routine, even cook a bit at “home.” Check, check, check, and check.
Rather astonishingly, I’d never been solo for two weeks before, or if I have I can’t remember the time. Even a similar soul-searching trip to Block Island, Rhode Island, in the 1990s was, if memory serves, only a week.
The second week of this trip was, well, weird, and it told me what I needed to know about the notion of actually living here for an extended time. It also told me a little more about myself.
Sometimes being uncomfortable matters.
Without dwelling on it too much, living in a tropical place (Todos Santos is literally on the Tropic of Cancer) means smothering humidity always, bugs galore, heat and a pace of life far slower than I’m accustomed to.
While I’d likely adjust eventually, two weeks where you can’t drink the water, toss toilet paper in the toilet, where the roads will destroy your car (I had to have a bumper reattached on my rental), and where air conditioning is a luxury, was more than enough. I found myself getting cranky more than once.
The food was good, not great. Todos Santos isn’t Oaxaca. It’s not even La Paz. La Paz is a Mexican city in Baja, where local delights can be found, if you look. I knew Todos Santos wouldn’t be as food rich, but I was a little surprised at how limited the menus were — and trust me, I ate like it was my job. (Because, it kind of is.) Gringos are maybe the reason, but it could just be local habit.
Turns out the reason I’ve never spent two weeks all by myself is because I don’t like it. Duh, right? Had I liked it, I would have done it at some point in my last 50 years. But still, this was the test I needed.
As introverted as I often feel, I need social connection, too. Even in small doses. I did get that a few times on this trip, most notably at a special dinner a colleague of mine, Chef Hector Palacios, held in the town of San Pedro, about an hour north of Todos Santos.
He sat me next to a family from La Paz, who, if they spoke English at all, didn’t. So Spanish it was, and it was all I could do to hold up my end of the conversation for the better part of three hours. But I did, I am happy to say. While I can’t converse in Spanish the way I can in English, I can, finally, do more than basic interactions.
The following day I wandered into a ceramics shop, Todos Artesanos, and the owner Alfredo started off in English — I was wearing shorts and, well, I am pretty ruddy, being of Scots descent and all.
He asked me if I had been in a few days’ before. I quipped, in Spanish, that all gringos look alike. He laughed and said basically yeah. As I shopped, we talked in Spanish for about 20 minutes about the ceramics (I bought a few nice pieces), and he gave me some good recommendations for local foods.
Gracias por hablar español conmigo, I wished him good-bye. El placer es mio, compa, he replied.
Another time, a waiter asked me what part of Colombia I grew up in, and seemed surprised when I told him I was from Nueva Jersey. So yeah, my Spanish is getting a little better. Paso a paso.
Those interactions, in Spanish, acted as buoys in a sea of solo. I knew I’d get into my own head a lot on this trip, and I did.
I have a noisy mind. I’ve never been diagnosed with ADHD, but I’ve taken enough tests for various “syndromes,” for lack of a better term, to know that I am, well, neurospicy. I’ve known this, in my inner heart, for many years. I am just a little different.
And that’s OK, because this weird focus I can get on things has, in many ways, made me who I am. I can drill down on a subject relentlessly, read extensively on a topic, then do it. Many times I’ve read a few dozen recipes for some dish (often in the original language), made it, then travel to the country where it’s from, and realize I more or less nailed it. I can remember images in books I read years ago that have relevant information in them. It’s a sensory thing: images, smells, tastes, the feel of something.
But when I am not drilling down, my consciousness is in a constant state of “Squirrel!” Look at that big fuckin’ rock! (That line is an old family joke. My sisters will get it.) Is that a white-winged dove I hear? What sort of grasshopper did I nearly step on? What should I cook tonight? Damn, sugar ants are fast! I really need to figure out my life…
I’m getting there. I know I need to buy a house pronto. I know I need to start setting new roots. I know I need to get back to doing what I am good at: Writing, cooking and developing new techniques and recipes for everyone.
I actually did that, a little, in Todos Santos. I caught some dorado (mahi mahi) and skipjack tuna, and actually did a recipe for Hunter Angler Gardener Cook using the dorado. (Stay tuned for that over on HAGC.)
I found myself sliding back and forth between vacation mode, work mode, and contemplation mode. Noisy mind, right? But being solo for so long allowed me to process all of those modes piece by piece. I’d get a head of steam on thinking Big Thoughts, then realize I hadn’t left my Airbnb for 12 hours. So I’d go out and explore.
I walked the whole town of Todos Santos. Twice. Visited the beaches. San Pedro. Pescadero. El Triunfo. One day I just drove.
Slowly, I came to the same conclusion a good friend of mine related to me the other day: “I’ve been taking time for peace when I can. Still got a mountain to climb in front of me, but I’ve accepted the chaos. I’m not mad at it anymore.”
No, not mad at all. Now that I’m home, bring it. I’m ready.
Glad you “survived” your time away and time alone. For me, they are essential. 👍
“Neuro spicy” - I love it. Being much the same, I can totally relate to living in one’s head, sometimes too much. Congratulations on your ability to converse. I had Spanish in school from kindergarten on, but still can’t conjugate a verb to save my life - I grew up 5 miles from the border. I’m glad that your trip was beneficial. Soul searching is a blessing, even though it’s hard.