Six weeks into Mexico

I’m feeling rather protective of our private life these days, thus haven’t felt my usual blogging urge. Plus I’ve been enjoying the slow pace of Mexico that we’ve TOTALLY adjusted to and used the free time I get between boat-shopping, roadtripping and worldschooling to endulge in a 1,000 pages plus book that I’ve been loving every page of.

Hearing news from friends back home in Australia that rushed and time-poor lifestyle that inevitably seems to catch up with everyone in the Western world seems like a lifetime away. We’ve replaced it with long sunrise meditation sessions (that’s me before the rest of Mexico wakes up and turns the speakers up); lots of family time; oceans of discovery; new tribe connections and retrouvailles with old and dear freindships; and plenty of wild and free adventures. Obviously, exploring over 2,000km with three young kids isn’t always 100% rosy – but none of us would have it any other way.

There’s been so many speechless moments either way of the spectrum to warrant a whole blog post series. Tu summarise but a few… machismo moments where Pablo gets asked in front of me if he isn’t in charge (of me)?!#$^?; three highway choices between ‘comfort’, ‘safety’ and ‘speed’; a hotel with nothing but salt water coming out of ANY tap; kids playing side by side wild crocs – in Australia they’d be dead if you did that; us almost getting arrested in a roadblog over our gourd of mate, aka Argentinean green tea; and well the layer of rubbish EVERYWHERE you look. A shockingly sad reality of this world that we have created. There’s not a day when I don’t wanna shout ‘no more’ at this, and yet one seems so incredibly disempowered in front of the sheer quantities of plastic at stake.

To not leave this post with more deeply disturbing environmental disaster notes, I’ll just vent the hint of a surprise in saying that the next post might come from aboard our new boat if all goes to plan, though then again that rarely happens in Mexico where everything is fluid, nothing is black and wild, and radical self-responsibility, as opposed to Australia’s controlling father state, is the daily way to go.

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