Boars and More

It’s been a year and a half since I blogged. While I make no promises (threats?) to resurrect this tired trash heap and add to it on a regular basis, I feel compelled today, and I really truly would like to get back into the habit of it.

The Man-type and I have settled on Sedona as Our Special Place (OSP). Despite the drive, it’s a convenient enough getaway for a three or four night stay. We depart from our tree-lined community and cross seven hours’ worth of desert. The drive sun-bleaches away our routines and stress as we talk and listen to the Man’s ‘80s music or old reruns of Loveline.

 The Canyon Wren grounds,  photo from Tripadvisor

During our first two visits, we stayed in Forest Houses, a series of older cabins located on a gorgeous property north of Sedona in Oak Creek Canyon. Because it was unavailable, we ended up booking a little cabin at the nearby Canyon Wren, a small bed and breakfast that avails itself only to couples or solo travelers. Upon arriving at 7:00 the first night, I walked car-dazed toward the office to check in as the Man unpacked the car. I ambled forward quietly until I was stopped by snorting, chuffing boars.

Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeit.
  

OK, it was explained to me that the two giant pigs that ran in front of me were not pigs, really, but javelinas. The owners put out dog food each night to deter them from eating the plants.

But just look at the picture. You tell me if that’s a “peccary” or some sort of rabid porcine beast. Indeed, we were later told that they could kill a small child or an elderly person.

I spent the rest of the trip trying to get a photo of the buggers but could capture nothing more than a shadowy figure. The Man-type wouldn’t dare walk around the property after dusk, so I will torture him for years to come with this javelina wall hanging we picked up at a store called "World Famous Art" in a place called Gila Bend.

More on OSP soon.

A Return

Blergh. I've been opening the blogger.com page for three days now. I returned home from a little trip to Guatemala, Belize, and Mexico late Saturday, and I suppose I've just been processing ever since. I have a new found admiration for bloggers who post almost daily, regardless of what's happening in their lives. For me, it seems I must arrive upon some perfectly appropriate insight to share with my imagined audience :-)

It's taken a couple of Bikram classes to "reset" me. The trip... wow. How to sum up such an

experience? Sometimes, language is a way in, and sometimes it's a barrier laden with cliches. Parts of the trip, like waking up to the sound of the Caribbean from my cabana on the beach, were like this: Tulum, Mexico Mayan Ruins, Tikkal

It's not Zico! Parts of the trip, though, such as the relentlessly hot, air condition-free hotel rooms in Flores, Guatemala, rendered me brain-dead, baffled, like the moment when your eyes set upon "Alaskan" coconut water. Yeah, you yogis think you’ll be ready for the heat, but it’s one thing for sweat for 90 minutes, knowing that at some point, the buckets of liquid will stop oozing from your pores. When there’s no end in sight, though, it’s a completely different story.

I've got an endless list of the "good" things to talk about. The food. The crumbling churches in Antigua. The jungle surrounding Tikkal. Jumping into cool water after riding in a van for hours through Mexico. Did I mention the food? Camaron del ajo, conch steak, ceviche, ceviche, ceviche. And, randomly, the best nachos I've had in my life.  And there were challenges: riding in vans for hours. Watching soldiers pile out of their trucks to surround a nearby vehicle, enormous guns aimed at the driver. Having sweaty Apocalypse Now nights, sleeping in dead, humid air, because a local politician cut the power to our electricity (i.e., fans) so people couldn't watch a TV program portraying him in a bad light. And then there are the spells of pure joy and connection to experience, found usually in unexpected moments, like the tiny gecko that graced my hotel room in Mexico, as if to say adios. Eating dinner by candlelight because the power was off. Realizing on the 8th hour of a cramped van ride that this is it, this beautiful ride is what I came here for. The real experience defies expectations, right? Mi amigo de Playa del Carmen  _______________________________________________________________ *Sorry for the crappy formatting, y'all. I suck at blogger.

Settled: Good. Clingy: Bad.

This weekend, I undertake two journeys. First, I will delight in my childhood friend's wedding, humbling myself by going "all-out": hair and makeup, a navy evening dress, festivities and well-wishing. Then, my father and I fly to Guatemala, where we will travel through jungles, beaches, colonial cities, and whatever else the universe has in store.

A thought hangs  in the back of my mind, like a bat reluctant to let go and whip out of its cave and into the evening sky: I've been feeling so ... settled lately. And not in an "I'm settled because I scooped me up a good guy" kinda settled. But lately, stuff 'round these parts just feels right. I delight in a morning yoga class, followed by an hour spent reading a novel for fun, eating what I want, and sleeping when and as long as I want. Why would I want to leave?

 
Settled is great. Clingy, however... not so hot. When I get super-honest about what holds me back from complete friendliness to this experience, however, I notice a lot of the clingy stuff--my friends and family, my cats, my school, my yoga, my computer, my cereal, my Jon Stewart :-) I'm trying to remember that it will all be here when I get back and that the experience that awaits me--beaches, long bus rides, colonial cities, underwater adventures, Mayan ruins (even the recent drug cartel attack in Guatemala)-- is no worse, no better. Trying to remember that the clingy stuff is just fear. 

My Jon Stewart

For some reason, this quote from Pema Chodron is on "repeat" in my head this week: "I've seen it all, and I love it all."

Namaste, y'all!