The ambivalent part-time expat (that's me)

 Vallodolid, Yucatan, MX

A few years ago, I had this fantasy that if I could just move to Mexico for six months I would become 1)nearly fluent in Spanish and 2)a more relaxed person who could  3)salsa dance up a storm.

OK, goals two and three are still in progress. But I am happy to report that I am nearly fluent in Spanish. That's because, since 2016, I have spent about a year and a half all-told hanging out down here.

And that, as most of you know, is because I fell in love with a Mexican. Which is really by far the best way to learn Spanish. And though my relationship with him appears to be flourishing, my relationship with Mexico is more tortured. 

Laguna Bacalar, Quintana Roo, MX

I love it on the one hand, because it is absolutely beautiful. The country bursts with natural and cultural treasures. Mountains, lakes, hot springs, charming towns, white-sand beaches, vibrant indigenous culture, gorgeous folk art, a fascinating history that's represented in many well-preserved ruins and archaeological sites.

Then there's the food. Mangos, avocados, tacos al pastor, sopa tarasco, habanero salsa, cemitas, tamales, pan dulce, pan de queso, tlacloyos, chiles en nogada...I could go on listing my favorites. Just know that every region in Mexico has its own twist on these foods, its own specialties, and every region in Mexico thinks it has the best food in all of Mexico. 

Lago de Patzcuaro, Michoacán, MX

And they are probably all right. 

I have been so lucky to travel all over this country. But what I've realized, now that I have spent time living here off and on, is that I much prefer traveling in Mexico to living here. 

Because I am a spoiled American at heart. I know there are many expats who love being here, who have no desire to return to the U.S. - because of its politics, because it's so expensive, because the pace is so hectic, because of many things. 

I don't think I'm one of them though. My heart  belongs to the USA. To Seattle and the northwest. I am a spoiled American at heart and there many things I miss.

Here are just a few of them:

Pachuca, Hidalgo MX

Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. Soy creamer. Peet's Coffee. Thai food. National parks with well-marked trailheads. Composting and recycling. Showers with water pressure and reliable hot water. Knowing that if I have a heart attack in my house, an ambulance will be there promptly to try to save me. People who speak my language. My dog. My car. Artsenal doughnuts.

And yet...
I've been here for four months this time around, and while I want to go home, I also don't want to go home.

Here I can actually afford my life. When I go back to Seattle, this time with my boyfriend in tow (who has miraculously acquired a visa to stay for a while),  I will need to get a better-paying job to pay the rent. Or else I will need to go to a cheaper city where the rents aren't so high, of which there are many, but my heart belongs in Seattle...

Tepoztlan, Morelos MX

Or maybe my heart belongs in Mexico. I don't know. All I know is that being a part-time expat is confusing. It's like I don't exactly know where my home is anymore.

And that's OK for now. After all, as a Gemini, ambivalence is my constant state of being anyway.

Plus, look at all the  cool stuff I've gotten to see in the last four months!

(And if you think this post is really just an excuse to show off some of my recent photos of Mexico, you'd be right). 

Mountains and wildflowers in Hidalgo state

Colorful staircase in Pachuca

This weekend, we  took a little getaway to the state of Hidalgo, which borders the state of Puebla (which is where I am currently hanging out, avoiding Trump's America and the hordes of fans that stalk me at home, demanding a sequel to BreakupBabe).

You don't hear about Hidalgo much. Which is probably a good thing - it's not in the news for drugs and violence. It's also definitely not on the gringo tourist trail, and perhaps not much on the Mexican tourist trail, except for  people who live nearby.

But I was looking for a place to go over Thanksgiving break that wasn't far and that would serve up some nature - something that's sorely lacking here in the traffic-choked city of Puebla. More than anything when I'm here, I miss the green spaces of Seattle, the lakes, the Puget Sound, the snowy peaks (sob).

And so, on Thanksgiving Day, we bound a bus for the city of Pachuca. The capital of Hidalgo state, it's not too famous for much of anything except soccer and "pastes" (aka Cornish pasties), both brought by Cornish miners who went there to work the silver mines in the 1900s.

We did stuff ourselves with pastes,  but what we enjoyed most in Pachuca was "Las Palmitas." It's a once-sketchy neighborhood perched on a hillside that - thanks to a community effort - was turned into one big eye-poppingly colorful mural. (The Guardian published an article about it a few years ago).

We were the only ones around

You'd expect such a pretty place to be full of tourists, but we were the only ones wandering around taking pictures. (In fact, we were practically the only ones wandering around at all).

And one resident, when she saw me take a picture, got very grumpy and started ranting about how I shouldn't take pictures because I didn't live there, and the neighborhood belonged to the people who did.

This has never happened to me before in Mexico, but then again, I guess I'm usually in more touristy places. You'd expect this place to be more touristy. If Las Palmitas was, say, in a neighborhood in San Francisco, CA, it would be  packed with tourists drinking $8 lattes, $15 glasses of wine, and buying t-shirts.

Mural in Comuna 13, Medellin

In fact, it reminded me of a similar - but much more vibrant -  neighborhood I visited last year in Medellin called "Comuna 13". Comuna 13 also used to be a violence-ridden place until the Colombian government cleaned it up (ahem, using some violent methods of their own). Now it's a safe, bustling neighborhood bursting with murals, souvenir shops, and people taking pictures.

 In any case, there were no lattes or souvenir shops to be found, just empty, colorful streets - a little on the haunting side in their loneliness.

Into the mountains to Mineral del Chico

After a night in Pachuca, we hopped on one of the passenger vans that ferries people up into the mountains. After a sinuous 40-minute drive, we arrived in the picturesque mining town of Mineral del Chico. It's one of Mexico's mostly recently-designated pueblos magicos - or "magic towns."

What makes this one "magic?" Well, it's got a beautiful old church, of course. It's also set in the middle of a national park, which means that many of the vistas from the town included striking rock formations and acres of forest.

And luckily, we found the perfect hike to do amidst this wilderness. I say "luckily" because it's not always a given that you'll find such things as "maps" in a national park in Mexico. In fact, there were no maps to be found in Mineral del Chico, but there was a bright red information booth, and even though it opened late (eye roll), there was a friendly person in there who dispensed advice.

This guy enjoyed the view too

We hiked up and up, first to a mirador called La Pena del Cuervo, which offered a 360-view of the surrounding scenery and the valley below. Then, encouraged by a friendly Hidalgo couple we met there,  we hiked up further to an abandoned lookout, which we had to ourselves and which was surrounded by wildflowers.

I was so excited to see wildlflowers! I thought I'd seen the last of them in August, when I hiked at Mount Rainier. But no, here they were in late November, and suddenly, for the half an hour that I wandered around on this little peak, surrounded bursts of white, yellow, and red flowers, I felt at home for the first time since I came to Mexico over a month ago. 

That alone made the trip worth it.

Not that the trip was difficult. It just had minor annoyances, like trips tend to do. But they were so minor they are not even worth going into (much as I'd like to bitch about the couple that was constantly having sex above us in our otherwise peaceful lodging in Mineral del Chico. I mean, people, once a week is enough for most couples. Do you really need to be having sex several times a DAY?).

So, instead, I won't gripe. I'll leave you with this image. Mountains. Flowers. Sunshine. Blue sky. Much as I miss for Seattle and long for it when I'm gone, you're certainly not gonna find a scene like this there in late November. Viva Mexico! 

Just another day in Mexico

Mexico is such a land of contrasts.

It has a vibrant culture, systemic corruption, a joyous spirit, abject poverty.

The feelings that it stirs up in me are a jumble of contrasts too. Love, hate, annoyance, longing, disgust, sadness, admiration.

I love it because it's beautiful and welcoming and epic, and because Ian is here. I hate it at times because...well, I'm a spoiled American and things don't always go the way I want.

Let's take Monday, for example. I was in Mexico City to see some friends who were visiting from the States. Our big plan for the day was to dine at Pujol, the #13 rated restaurant on the oh-so-trendy list of the world's top 50 restaurants.

Because I had to work  til lunchtime, my plan was to go to the café-bookstore right near the restaurant and work from there until it was time to eat. Although I had never been to this particular café, it has several locations in Mexico City, and I always like to work from there when I'm in town because of the great food, welcoming vibe, and stable Internet.

I managed the Metro ok. This in itself was a bit of a triumph because the metro in Mexico City used to make me claustrophobic and panicky. Now I can handle it with mostly no problem AND actually get places I need to go (which is no small feat for someone as directionally challenged as me).

Then came the first annoying part of the day. For this, I have no one to blame but myself. I popped out of the metro in the swanky neighborhood of Polanco and started following Google maps to the bookstore/café. I saw a panaderia and popped in for a concha, my favorite pan dulce. 

Conchas, mmm

Unfortunately, the concha was both terrible AND overpriced. But that wasn't the annoying part.  (At least with an overpriced pastry in Mexico, you're talking $1.50 instead of $7).

The annoying part was that 1)I left my jacket in the bakery 2)realized it almost right away  3)but then couldn't find the bakery again even though - I SWEAR - it was right around the corner. Mexico City is not always the easiest place to navigate!

I knew I would find it eventually but the problem was I had to start work ASAP.  After searching fruitlessly for the panaderia for 10-15 minutes, I was threatening to make myself late. OK, fine. I would find my jacket later. Hopefully no one would have stolen my jacket by then (because that concha really wasn't worth it!) 

Then I got a little lost trying to find the bookstore. When I rushed in, it was about 11:01. I was one minute late for work. I logged on, worked for two whole minutes, and then - BAM - there was no Internet. 

"Oh, the Internet isn't working right now," the server said to me casually when she brought me my coffee. 

*&$!*! %$ 

The Internet continued to not work and not work. For the whole two hours I was supposed to be working, I got online for maybe 10 minutes total, thus losing a a bunch of money because I could not bill for that time. This I blame squarely on Mexico. 

Thank you Mexico and your terrible Internet. 

So that was the morning. But then there was lunch. 

And lunch was a miracle of deliciousness and beauty. None of the hustle-bustle and heat of Mexico City or the country's problems was to be found in Pujol.

Blissful dining in Pujol

No, Pujol represents only the best of Mexico: fresh Mexican ingredients welded into amazing lovely-to-behold creations. Attentive service. An architectural design that makes you feel both energized and relaxed.

Then, after three hours, it was over. I was dumped back out onto the street with the hoi polloi. I proceeded to have an experience that was almost the exact opposite of my decadent, leisurely interlude in Pujol.

I went to the doctor.

I had a female problem. And, it became obvious during lunch when I visited the bathroom five times, that I needed to get it looked at urgently. And so I did what a lot of Mexicans do when they need to see someone quickly and cheaply, and they don't have health insurance: I went to a farmacia.

When you go to a pharmacy, you pay $0 to $3 to see the doctor, and then you inevitably go into the actual pharmacy and spend a lot of money on whatever they prescribed to you. And they always prescribe something because the doctors who work there are subsidized by the pharmacies.

Anyway, at this particular pharmacy, the waiting room was broiling hot and packed with people. To make matters worse, due to my female problem, I had to pee like a mo' fo but there were no public bathrooms available.

So I waited. And waited. And sweated. And waited. Finally I got into see the doctor, who turned out to be a lovely, friendly overworked young woman stuffed into a stinky, windowless and dirty office.  Even though I liked this doctor very much and was relieved she was a woman, I did not like wondering what the pinkish-reddish stains on the walls and floors were.

Was it BLOOD?

I tried not to think about it as she examined me. As she wrote up my prescriptions, I wished for her a better job - something less hectic, more peaceful, where she at least at time to clean up the bloodstains (or juice stains), look out a window, or let a breath of fresh air in the office before the next patient.

Then I ran back to my AirBB, trying not to pee in my pants. Meanwhile, I passed by Parque Mexico, one of the loveliest and most peaceful urban parks anywhere (and even though I wasn't in the best frame of mind to enjoy it, there was still part of me appreciating it just like I always did).

So, really, it was just another typical day in Mexico for me.

OK, so maybe going to one of the world's best restaurants isn't exactly typical. But the way the day encompassed both beautiful and ugly, hectic and calm, warm and difficult -- all these contrasts, for me, are Mexico in a nutshell.

(Oh, and by the way, I did find my jacket again.)

How Breakup Babe become Married Babe became Breakup Babe (again)

Photo by Sara Tro

Hear ye, hear ye, I have achieved my life’s dream of being middle-aged and divorced!

But what does this mean, exactly? Especially for someone who was once Breakup Babe, wearer of slinky clothes, owner of a karaoke machine, writer of a salacious blog-turned-novel, failed but enthusiastic pursuer of innumerable commitment-shy men?

• Does she go back to being Breakup Babe (only a slightly more wrinkly, beaten-down version), chasing men across continents?
• Does finally publish another book, the sequel to BreakupBabe: A Novel that all three of you have been waiting for?
• Or does she curl up and die from loneliness and boredom just like Breakup Babe was always threatening to do?

How Breakup Babe  became Married Babe

For BB, being alone equaled loneliness, and loneliness led to lots of other unpleasant emotions that she tried to blot out with compulsive dating and blogging about dating. What she learned that was you don’t make good choices in relationships when you’re terrified of being alone.

Photo by Sara Tro

(She also learned that when you’re in the throes of loneliness, you do write entertaining prose).

One day, however, BB finally met someone who was not commitment-shy. They fell in love, got married, adopted some pugs, had lots of adventures, and applied to adopt a kid.

Things were looking up for Married Babe (formerly BreakupBabe), who not only had a husband now, and a possible future kid, but a whole new set of relatives to love.

Why, she might never have to be lonely again!

True happiness comes from inside (duh)

MB knew (at least, in theory) that no one else can make you happy. That true happiness comes from INSIDE. From doing things that make you feel good and help others.

For her, this meant writing fiction, climbing mountains, traveling to exotic locales, and reading stories to kindergarteners. Plus lots of other stuff. All of which she did in abundance.

So she wondered, after a couple years of marriage, why she didn’t feel happier. Because, not only did she have a life partner now, she was doing all these things she loved.

So what was missing?

Two can be as lonely as one

Eventually she realized it was because she was lonely in her marriage.  First a little, then a lot.

(NOTE: THAT SENTENCE IS A HIGHLY ABRIDGED AND SANITZED VERSION OF A VERY COMPLEX SITUATION THAT I'M ONLY JUST FIGURING OUT HOW TO WRITE ABOUT. APOLOGIES FOR LEAVING OUT ALL THE JUICIEST DETAILS.)

Early on, the loneliness would come and go. Because, even with the lonely times, there were still so many good times. There were the pugs and the garden. Playing guitars in the living room and cuddling in front of Netflix. Sunday night dinners with the mother-in-law who was like a second mom.

And last but not least, the application to adopt and the dream of being parents that was in process.

But then the lonely times got longer and the good times got shorter. The fights got worse. Attempts at counseling fell apart.

Yet they kept on keeping on, like you do when you can't envision another future.

Until finally the application to adopt got rejected.

The Great Mexican Escape

Another turning point quickly followed. In April, 2016, MB went away for a few months to study Spanish in Mexico.

She thought she might feel even lonelier there. And she did, at first, but then slowly she felt better and better.

There was a strange feeling growing inside her and at first she wasn’t sure what it was. Finally she realized: it was happiness.

She was happier being away from her husband than being with him.  It took three months of feeling light and unburdened in Mexico to make her really face this fact. To make her realize just how weighed down she'd been by the struggle to keep her marriage alive.

Because she loved her husband, there was no doubt about it. Loneliness, doubts, and all.

But after all the space and sunlight (and fighting with her husband from afar), she realized just couldn't struggle for her marriage anymore.

The end and the beginning

So she stopped struggling. Went back to Seattle and asked for a divorce.

Then she quickly turned around and went right back to Mexico, which welcomed her with open arms. And there she lived through the most bittersweet six months of her life until the divorce became final on May 22, 2017.

As for what's next, your guess is as good as mine. But as the sign at left says, "When nothing is certain, everything is possible."

Which about sums it up for now.

Seattle trip report: snuggly pugs, pouring rain, and angry exes

I wanted to see the rain.

I saw the rain. Lots of it. It made me cold and wet.

I wanted to see my dogs. I saw them. They kept me warm and dry.

I wanted to see my friends. I saw them, and that lifted me up too. 

I didn't want to see my (soon-to-be-ex) husband, but I had to see him to get my dogs.

I was expecting him to be friendly, because that's how he'd seemed - mostly - over these last couple months.

However, I should have known better. Because a hallmark of his behavior is volatility. And finally I've learned something important about him that I should have learned long ago. The one thing that's actually predictable about him is his unpredictability.

There was a moment, back before I left for Mexico, when I thought, "OK, we can be friends. This is going to be fine." Because my (soon-to-be-ex-) husband is, or was, my best friend. And it was very hard to let go of that. And so I held on to it, thinking, when he seemed fine with everything, "Great, we're always going to have each other's backs."

From http://www.yuzmshanghai.org/rain-room/

But since then, there have been various about-faces on his part, where he goes from friendly to furious and then back again. And I finally realized NO, we're not going to be friends. At least not now.

But no. The two occasions that I had to see him, he vibrated palpably with anger. I would even go so far as to use the tired cliche that he was seething with it. And while we're on a roll with the clichés, let's say that he didn't make much eye contact with me, but when he did, his eyes shot daggers at me.

Our interactions were short, but they left their mark. Because those daggers draw blood. It hurts to see someone who once looked at you with love (and a huge, gorgeous smile) look at you as if they hated you more than anyone on Earth.

He didn't always look at me with love, of course. My (soon-to-be-ex) husband was volatile at the best of times during our marriage and it only got worse as time went on.

But still, he always loved me. I never doubted that. Even as our marriage went through increasingly hard-to-recover from death spirals, I knew he loved me. I loved him too. And I clung to that.

Sunny, happy Puebla street scene

Just like I clung to our friendship, and the ten years that bound us together. And my love for my mother-in-law and our shared love for my dogs, and the fact that my niece and nephew loved my (soon-to-be-ex) husband more than anyone else in the family.

Until I didn't cling to it anymore.

Which is a story in itself that I'm still trying to figure out how to write.

Meanwhile, back in Puebla, the sun shines and people are nice to me. I've started to dry out and the anger feels a little more distant. But it definitely left its mark.

Even in Mexico, there are Mondays

Tasha is tired of Mondays

Yesterday was such a Monday.

My pants were too tight, my hair was bad, and my (flexible) (well-paid) work (that lets me live anywhere in the damn world that I want to) was destroying my soul.

#Firstworldproblems


Yes, I know, what a whiner I am. Here in a country with desperate poverty and a corrupt government, all I can do is complain about how tight my pants are because I've indulged a little bit too much in queso fresco and tacos al pastor.

Mmm, tacos al pastor. Actually, better yet, TORTAS AL PASTOR.

But  I digress.  In general, life in Puebla for a privileged gringa such as myself is idyllic.

I rent a little apartment with a Mexican family where I get 1)cheap rent 2)delicious homecooked meals 3)a clean room every day 4)Spanish practice and 5)canine companionship (shout out to my homies Tasha, Dolly, and Coco!)

It's also sunny. All. The. (Effing). Time.

OK, I love sun, don't get me wrong. Especially after 25 years of the endless winters in Seattle. But I'm starting to recall my love for rain too, and a bit of cloud cover in which to hide.

I'm also realizing how much I crave the presence of  water. In Seattle, you're never far from it. Throw a rock and you find a lake or a bay or a channel. At my ex-mother-in-law's house, I could literally launch myself into Lake Washington from here backyard (which I did often and enthusiastically).

Ah, Isla Mujeres.

Here in Puebla, we're landlocked.

(Though I did get a splendid dose of agua in Isla Mujeres in December, which seems like eons ago now).

So it's a good thing I'm headed to Seattle in a few days. Besides seeing my friends and my dogs (oh, the pugz, how I miss them!) I will get to quench my thirst for clouds and water and rain.

Unless, of course, there's a freak stretch of sunny weather.

Good hair days in Oaxaca

Has anyone ever made a decision about where to live based on how good their hair looked in a given location?

If I could reasonably do this, then I would move to Oaxaca city.

Art from one of Oaxaca's many galleries

Not only is it full of stunning art, delicious food, strong drinks (including the best strawberry margarita I've ever had), colorful cafes,  and many other attractions, my hair looked fabulous there.

I mean, if I do say so myself.

Because of my Good Hair, I was exuding so much confidence (and possibly cleavage) that young waiter even asked for my phone number! Unfortunately I made the poor guy repeat himself several times because no one has ever asked me for my phone number in Spanish before.

And though I didn't actually I give it to him, I wanted to tell him how flattered I was and how he'd made my day, but my Spanish wasn't quite up to the task. Because I was flattered and it DID make my day. (I mean when was the last time a random stranger asked for my phone number?)

The minute I returned to Puebla, my hair started to droop again. Even though there are many things to love about my adopted Mexican city, good hair, alas is not one of them.

Monarch butterflies in Michoacán

A couple weeks ago, I went to see the monarch butterflies in the mountains of Michoacán, Mexico.

Ever since I was a little kid, I've had a thing for butterflies. That's because my favorite memories involve chasing them across the wildflower-choked meadows of the Sierra mountains in northern California when my family backpacked there every summer.

The monarchs here can be elusive. If you arrive before the sun is high in the sky, they might still be sleeping in the trees, clustered together with thousands of their butterfly friends for warmth. Or if it's a cold day, they might never really leave the trees.

But if it's a warm and sunny day like the one we were lucky enough to have, then you're treated to the sight of them swooping through the air like little orange fairies with the bright blue sky above.

I've always related to butterflies (I have three of them tattooed on my back, in fact), but even more so now that I've migrated to Mexico temporarily too.

We stayed at a little hotel called JM's Butterfly B&B, which I really liked (except that all the other guests were Americans, and I don't know when I got so snobby about other Americans, but I realized while I was there that they talk really loudly, and that they also never stop talking).

From this scenic and tranquil spot, you hoof it up on horseback or foot to about 10,000 feet, where - if you're lucky - the butterflies will be busily flitting about. And your mouth falls open at the first sight of them, and maybe you cry, and you wander about in a daze for the next couple hours, taking pictures, listening to the delicate whisper of their wings, and feeling really grateful.

Then you come back for tequila shots at sunrise, and eat wine-laden dinners with the other friendly but LOUD Americans  and later go to sleep with ALL your clothes on the pretty but unheated rooms.

Meanwhile, the butterflies go back to sleep together in the trees, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of them, fighting off the nighttime chill until the sun prompts them to open their wings again.

A look back at 2015

I’m always amazed to look back every year and see how much I’ve done. It's a good feeling to remind myself of everything, and to feel grateful for all the adventures, big and small. With that, here's a look back at the highlights of 2015...

January – I started off the year by diving into the icy waters of Puget Sound during the Polar Bear Plunge at Golden Gardens. I discovered it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be! I'm not in this picture (which was shamelessly stolen from the Seattle PI) but this is what it looked like. The temperature was probably about 40 degrees.

February – I was recovering from knee surgery, so this was a slow month. I did a lot of physical therapy. Snooze. Dave and I took one terrible trip to Fort Worden. The less said about that one the better. But Fort Worden is a beautiful place. Somehow I have no pictures from February. So I'll post a random cute pug picture of Sugar and Big Bud (who we adopted in July).

March – This was this first year I successfully grew my own garden. I started planting stuff in March, which was a good way to get outdoors since I wasn’t allowed to ski, bike, or hike. My cherry tomatoes were especially successful! (Thanks to global warming).

April – I camped with my sister, niece, and nephew at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park in Northern California. I’d forgotten how beautiful this part of the California coast is.

May – Going to Steamboat Rock State Park has become an annual tradition for me and Dave. This year I couldn’t hike up Steamboat Rock because of my knee, but I kept well occupied with biking, kayaking, and easier hikes...
.
.

June –At the end of June, I headed to Oaxaca, Mexico for a language study at Instituto Cultural de Oaxaca and a homestay with a local family. I loved it! My only regret is not staying longer.

July – For the first week of July, Dave and I toured around Mexico City and visited Huatulco on the Oaxaca coast. We had our own plunge pool at the hotel, which felt like the height of luxury.

August – I did a solo camping trip on the Olympic Peninsula, during a rare stretch of perfect weather. Highlights included watching the surfers at Shi Shi Beach and hiking to Point of the Arches.

September – Fall colors were superb on this beautiful hike to Damfino Lakes and Excelsior Peak near Mt. Baker. Also, Dave and I went to see the Foo Fighters at the Gorge, and got in some (very hot) mountain biking at Ancient Lakes before the show.

October – Dave wore his scary pug costume and Sugar wore  her butterfly costume. Big Bud refused to wear one.

November – I taught a new class for the Seattle Public library this year, called “Get ready for NaNoWrimo.” It was a blast! Dave and I also went to Whidbey Island with the pugs, and hiked at Ebey's Landing and Deception Pass.

December – Skiied for the first time since my knee surgery at  beautiful Echo Ridge in Lake Chelan. Yay knee! All that boring physical therapy was worth it. What a great way to end the year.

I heart Mexico!

I just returned from a fabulous trip to Mexico. So instead of working on my novel like I should be, I will instead post a few photos of my journey with occasional side trips to the mirror to admire my tan.

I spent the first week of my trip studying Spanish at Instituto Cultural de Oaxaca in Oaxaca City. I loved it! The school is in a charming colonial-style campus, the teacher was great, and I even made friends with some of my fellow students.

Fun with new friends in Oaxaca

I also stayed with a Mexican family, which really added to the whole experience. My family was quite hospitable and served delicious food. If my room was just a tiny bit on the stuffy and noisy side, it didn't matter. The house felt welcoming and homey to me. My Spanish definitely improved there too, since they didn't speak a lick of English.



My Mexican hosts

Next I met up with Dave in Mexico City, where we stayed at a B&B called The Red Treehouse. After only a few hours there I understood why this place is so popular. The rooms are beautiful, the staff goes out of there way to make you feel at home, and there are free happy hours and delicious breakfasts every morning. Plus it's in one of Mexico City's hippest and most walkable neighborhoods, La Condesa.



Courtyard at the Red Treehouse

Among the highlights of our time in DF (Distrito Federale, as Mexico City is also known), we went out to the famous pyramids at Teotitihicaun and the Museo de Arte Moderno. Plus TACOS.

At the Teotihuacan pyramids

We spent our final few days back in the state of Oaxaca, in a coastal resort area called Huatulco.



Huatulco

It was HOT HOT HOT. But I splurged on an ocean view room with a plunge pool, and boy was that worth it. Also, our hotel, the Camino Real had one of the, biggest, most awesome swimming pools I've ever seen.




The warm weather also  meant warm water and the ocean was divine for swimming. I'd forgotten how warm the ocean can be in Mexico; you can slip into it almost like a bath (but a bath with colorful fish!)




Plunge pools are fun!

And I loved eating meals al fresco with the waves lapping the shore nearby. Our last day we did a private snorkeling tour with Pilo Vazquez (highly recommended) who took us out in his boat The Black Pearl. Along the way, we saw sea turtles mating, various pristine bays and beaches, and blowholes. My favorite snorkeling spot was Playa San Augustin, where we saw an eagle ray.



With Captain Pilo

Then I arrived home promptly to get laid off at the beginning of the new fiscal year!

Whoa.

Welcome home, muchacha!

At least now I can work on my tan. And my novel. My garden. My Spanish. My guitar practice.

And,  oh yes, finding my next job too. (Sigh).