In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll be honest right up front. I dislike big resorts. Actually, I can’t stand them. Certainly, I can admit I do appreciate a flushing toilet or a shower a few times a week, but when I travel I want to actually experience the culture and meet the locals; and by that I don’t mean just exchanging pleasantries with those bringing me my latest poolside cocktail or cleaning my room. Jim’s parents actually prefer a more “cultured” lodging option as well, however years ago got sucked into the world of timeshares and hence… next thing I knew we were leaving the airport with them to experience Vidanta.
It’s the people you miss. The trade-off for a life lived out in the world is that you leave behind those you care about. That twinge of sadness at the idea of missing out on all those celebrations and camping trips and dinners out. Luckily for us, the arrivals started last week.
Time, that most fairydust of qualities, tends to fly or drag; all dependent, upon your inner happiness. I remember with startling vividness the endless, mind-numbing hours spent watching the clock from the inside of my cubicle. Willing those last hours and minutes to go faster. Just as I have tried to slow down time throughout my life; on vacations, amazing nights out, those great moments in time you never wanted to end. What I’ve learned in 120+ days on the road is that time, once the enemy, now a friend, still can fly by in an instant.
The 83 Pueblo Magico towns of Mexico may very well be enough of a reason for a visit to the country. We have previously visited several, including Alamos, El Fuerte, and Creel just last year. Recently we relished our time in Loreto and Todos Santos, finding ourselves completely intrigued and enchanted by stepping back into time to experience hand formed cobblestone streets and woodbeamed ceilings. Wanting to escape the city, it was time for a little magic.
We are, of course, always “home”. When you live in a tiny house on wheels, home is, literally, wherever you park it. However, among all of the amazing places we have visited around the world, Puerto Vallarta is our most often visited, and one place we really feel like we are coming home to.
Well, I’m going home, back to the place where I belong
And where your love has always been enough for me
I’m not running from, no, I think you got me all wrong
I don’t regret this life I chose for me
But these places and these faces are getting old
So I’m going home, well I’m going home
Yesterday someone commented on a blog post I did, telling me, in effect, that I was a whiner. I spammed his comment, not even bothering to engage in any sort of dialogue with such nonsense, but it was actually a perfect setup for this post, which I’ve had in mind for sometime. The fact of the matter is, life on the road is just that. LIFE. There are good days and bad days and cranky days and ecstatic days. As we have gone along we have shared so many stories of wonderful times and pictures of magical beaches and exciting adventures. While all we’ve shared is absolutely accurate, there is another side to overlanding…. the other reality.