Hello from La Paz! Our lovely home away from home that we’re about to leave again for northern climes, where we will have to do more annoying, stressful, responsible things than play on the beach all the time.
Like sell my house in Seattle, the one in which my marriage failed and my dreams of parenthood died. Then look for another one in Bellingham. This will involve lots of spending of money, signing of papers, moving of furniture, and questioning of all life choices that have led me to this chaos, including the question “Why did I ever leave Mexico?”
On the other hand, I’m incredibly lucky to have these options. My existential crises are borne of a life of extreme privilege. Which I want to acknowledge in this war-torn moment when so many innocent people are being displaced and driven from their homes.
So take that, pending existential crisis, you spoiled brat.
Here in La Paz, we’ve had a lovely time. We’ve reconnected with old friends and made new ones, human and canine.
We’ve gone in hot springs and cold pools. Kayaked in peaceful lagoons filled with herons. Seen whales breaching and diving. Ridden mules, camped at ranchos, snorkeled with sea lions, and eaten the best handmade tortillas of our lives.
Best of all, we’ve had lots of visitors. It’s been a special treat showing them around and learning from their discoveries too.
Of course, there have been the usual misadventures. Trailheads we couldn’t find, flat tires, mediocre margaritas.
There’ve also been some dog-parenting lows on the beaches of Baja. Such as Millie ingesting unspeakably disgusting things and scalding herself in thermal pools at the edge of the shore. ¡Ay caramba!
Still, she’s more of a water dog than ever now. If she doesn’t exactly love to swim like a lab, she will wade in of her own accord. Her favorite beach activity, though, is having people kick sand in her face so she can “catch” it.
Not to put a damper on all this sunshine n’ fun pug stuff peeps, but I have to pause here and make a dark confession. I got myself into an unhealthy relationship here in Baja.
With this habanero salsa.
You have to admit, it’s incredibly good looking. Any spice lover in their right mind would want put this gorgeous stuff all over everything. Nay, SWIM in it.
I won’t go into the details of our tempestuous affair. Let’s just say that we both put a lot of effort into our doomed relationship. Neither of us wanted to admit it wasn’t working, but it was obvious. Every time I tasted it, it burned me. Then I swore I would never go back, but of course I did.
And I tried to “fix” it multiple times by watering it down with something else (sweet potato, carrot, vinegar, honey, lime juice!), and it was STILL too spicy, and then I was hurt, and the salsa felt emasculated.
It’s so agonizing to admit that relationship is failing. Sometimes it’s just easier to let yourself be burned over and over. Especially when the spark is there. And when you both want it to work so badly, but you just can’t make each other happy.
When you finally do let go, you cry and cry, and then you wonder if you’ll be alone forever, but the truth is another salsa will probably (maybe?) come along sooner than you think.
Still, you will never forget it.
For now, adios.
xo,
Rebecca
You need to talk with Josh. He too has complicated relationships with salsa.
Bellingham eh?? Love it there!