Yelapa, Mexico – Reflections

Hotel Lagunita, Yelapa

The gentle waves muffle the Mexican “rancho polka music” which has started again after a brief respite. The music plays all night on Christmas Eve and for me is a strange blend of irritating and slightly hypnotizing. Earplugs simply take the edge off. Earplugs plus pillows, with my head sandwiched, seem the most effective method of muffling, which I successfully utilized at 4:17 am.

I sip my coffee, wishing it were organic Chiapas blend but enjoying what we brought from home. The roosters interject an occasional crow, although their additions are less frequent since sunrise.

I hear a water taxi leaving, a dog barking. The tiny hummingbird hovers at the brilliant red flower spindle. I hear the slap slap of flip flops on the stone stairs. I would have said ‘thongs’ a few years back but my daughters have trained me otherwise.

The temperature rises and a black and yellow striped butterfly glides in front of the tiled patio. The musky wet smell of the jungle intermingles with wood smoke, sea water smells, manure, diesel, fragrant flowers and a waft of laundry detergent. The air is wet and each breath seems to bath individual bronchioli.

I saw a furry little mouse this morning, hiding behind the dish soap (bright orange “Salvo- mi Salva Detergente Liquido Concentrado para Platos”). I startled it and so fast I wasn’t sure I had actually seen it, the tiny thing squeezed under the brown and gold Osterizer blender we use to make fresh fruit smoothies (our favorite is a papaya, banana, coconut, yogurt blend). Or, maybe, what I saw was a gecko.

The mama grey whale and her calf are quiet this morning. Perhaps they too are exhausted after the marathon night of music.

The ‘gang of teenagers’, my phrase to describe the flock of wild canaries who swoop and chatter in the morning, following the sun along the trees, scream by. They are quite unruly.

I notice a new flower has opened, yellow with saffron orange streaks and a fragrance that is mildly spicy. A lime plops to the ground. A velvety brown bird comes for a visit, perching on the iron railing at eye level. I hear chacalacas in the distance. Their sound is identical to their name. I am waiting for the pair of military macaws to cross high overhead in their daily fly by. It is said that there is a tree up river where many macaws roost and if you get there by 5 am you can see them. I’m not up that early here.

My mosquito bite itches, even with a thick pink coating of calamine lotion, glop, glop. The smell of the lotion transports me to my childhood on the Prairies and hot, lazy summer days playing in the fields and flushing out gopher holes. I wonder if I will get Dengue fever and am mildly concerned. Would it be gopher karma?

The church bells rang early this morning, calling the community to mass. I counted 16 bells, with a pause and then another bell. I may have miscounted.

The ants are busy this morning, scavenging the crumbs from the banana bread we ate out on the patio yesterday. A bright orange butterfly floats by and another magical Yelapa Christmas Day begins.

peace, namaste & hippy love for generations,

Zoey

Our family in Yelapa (minus one)!