I flew accross the ocean to Mexico… and spent the whole two weeks in the small fishermen town, 25.6 km away from the airport.
But that’s me – a Slow Cooker Traveller.
Oh of course, I still always expect, plan and prepare for a Drive-Through and Go-Gurt sort of travelling. I deliberately pack my backpack for numerous stops and goes, research the top things to see and do, design the itenerary across the country, and even take the Lonely Planet travel guide with me….
All of this, just to finally end up staying in one random, tiny, off-track place until I need to leave the country.
I can’t help it – I need tiiiiimeeee to soak up the juices of the place and people . And , for me, nothing brings out the flavor more than staying still.
It’s true – I didn’t see the Mayan pyramids… but it’s because I stuck around that I got to take part in the authenic soul healing ceremony with real Mayan shamans.
Instead of chasing the dolphins, I chose to chase the local witch in the jungle and study the magic of healing.
I also skipped the tour to the famous cenotes – and as a result stumbled accross the authentic dark and sweaty temazcal ceremony that has been used for healing and purification since the ancient times.
And for every hundred “where are you from” exchange with the passer-by’er, I only got to hear one story. But a real one.
About a high school sweethearts, who have been living in their van, on the road, for years, listening to the same Adele’s CD, that is stuck, plays on the loop and drives them nuts.
About a four year old girl who almost chocked to death and a stranger who jumped to help without a clue what to do. Terrifyed that she has died in his arms, he has never prayed this hard in his life.
Or the one about a Mayan Shaman who can turn your sickness into a crystal, and was chosen to heal people and evict demons, but would much rather do something that would give him weekends off and pay the bills 🙂
Slow-cooker-like travelling meant I got to say “Buenos días!” to the same fishermen every morning when I went to see the sunrise.
It meant that the local tourist vendors stop trying to sell me stuff.
It meant that I can bike to the local market to get me some fresh fruit and veggies, and wink to the Taco Wagon owner declaring his love for every passing lady, and discover the hidden nude beaches…
It meant slow travelling. slow breathing. slow being.
Like the acient Mexican witch proverb states: