Many emotions have been keeping me company this week as I venture out with the first footsteps of my new journey. Earlier in the week, as I engaged in final preparations for this new adventure, fear and doubt continued to lurk in the shadows, stalking my every move, slyly waiting for their next opportunity to sit down for a chat.
When I began my Cozumel adventures in June, overwhelming excitement and energy surged through every cell of my body. Nothing could have stopped me from launching forward on this path of self-discovery. I was alive with the energy of the universe as I stepped into the great unknown.
Tuesday, as I began forcing myself to make final preparations for this new adventure, the exact opposite proved to be the case. Low energy was dragging me down as I tediously plowed through last minute laundry, sorting through my belongings, and performing necessary backup and maintenance tasks on my computer.
The simple act of packing my backpack, attempting to make decisions about what would fit and what would need to stay behind, was both emotionally difficult and physically draining.
In June, getting my “necessary possessions” to fit into three suitcases (two of them quite large) proved to be quite a difficult task. Now, here I was, trimming down yet again, forcing myself to let go of most of those items, trying to come up with a minimal selection of clothing, toiletries, books, bicycle tools, camera, IPOD, and computer equipment—all of which needed to comfortably fit in my brand new backpack.
It was not until late Wednesday morning that my preparations were complete, or at least I thought they were. Throughout Wednesday afternoon, little Jedi voices continued to filter through my consciousness, urging me to trim down even more. Reluctantly, I removed a light jacket, three more blouses, and two more pair of capris. A sense of peace settled over me, letting me know that I was headed in the right direction.
Early Wednesday afternoon, in an effort to squash the tired complacency that was again attempting to take up residence in my soul, I made a bold move.
“Begin your journey tomorrow.” My calm and quiet Jedi voices urged me forward. “It is time to jump into this next adventure with your whole being … time to force yourself out of your comfort zone … time to quit delaying.”
Thirty minutes later, I left the local Cozumel bus station ticket office with a new prized possession. In my wallet was a ticket for Thursday morning at 11:30 a.m.—a small piece of paper that would grant me passage from Playa Del Carmen to the beautiful little Yucatan city of Valladolid (pronounced Vaya-doe-leed).
“Why Valladolid” was a question I simply could not answer—other than to say that for several weeks an internal tug had pulled me in that direction.
Amazingly enough, about ten days ago, as I informed Eduardo that Valladolid felt like my first stop, he replied with, “Brenda, I think there is going to be a Native Olmec ceremony near Valladolid in a couple of weeks. I will let you know as soon as I hear anything specific.
Immediately, I knew that I would be a part of that upcoming ceremony—even though I had no specifics whatsoever regarding dates and places. I simply trusted that the path would open up in time.
After purchasing my bus ticket, a nagging little feeling insisted, “Brenda, you need to research and reserve your first seven nights at a hostel in Valladolid.”
A quick round of online scanning showed one hostel in Valladolid. The description sounded ideal, and my feelings told me “this is the place.” I quickly attempted to make an online reservation, but the web site repeatedly informed me that there were no available rooms on Thursday or Friday nights (even though I learned later that there had indeed been space).
“Now what?” I thought as I began to panic. My heart skipped a few beats as I envisioned myself showing up in a completely unknown city with absolutely no place to sleep. A lengthy internet search came up empty—only revealing a few expensive tourist-class hotels in the area.
A thought flashed through my mind “I could simply stay in Cozumel until Saturday morning. All will be well if I just rest two more days.”
But my heart would have none of that.
“You need to start your journey tomorrow, period!” My heart responded with clear conviction. “You must not delay. Now is the time to get moving, to leave your comfort zone. Waiting two more days will simply not work.”
After much internal debate, I located and reserved a small hostel in Playa Del Carmen. As originally planned, I would leave home Thursday morning on the 9:00 a.m. ferry, stay two nights in Playa Del Carmen, and then purchase a new bus ticket to Valladolid for Saturday morning.
“I must begin my journey now” I told myself. This will give me two nights of experience in a hostel, plus it will get me out of the house, out of my zone of complacency.”
I had no idea what I would do in Playa Del Carmen for two days, but my heart told me that the decision was a right one. In spite of continuing butterflies in my stomach, my soul was in perfect peace.
Amazing Synchronicities
By 8:25 a.m., I locked the padlock on JayDee’s gate one last time while saying goodbye to the cozy little home that had served me so lovingly for the past eleven nights. Gratitude filled my heart as I remembered how JayDee had responded to her inspiration to offer me the use of her home. The timing of it all could not have been more perfect.
With my heavy and bulky backpack on my back and my smaller daypack strapped to my chest, I slowly swung my right leg over the seat of my bicycle, being ever so careful to maintain my balance. My little baby sable tree was poking it’s trunk and green leaves out of a pocket in my daypack, right in front of my face, begging me to be extra cautious. I leisurely pedaled toward the waterfront; the additional weight on my bicycle was both unfamiliar and quite awkward
Twelve blocks and ten minutes later, with a ferry ticket in hand, I parked my bicycle in the passenger waiting area. Soon, my bicycle and backpack were safely secured in the baggage area of the ferry.
As I sat comfortably, looking out my window while other passengers boarded the ferry, I was totally unprepared for what happened next.
A very familiar face suddenly came into view. As he climbed the ramp and entered the cabin door, not more than fifteen feet away, I called out.
“Eduardo …. EdUArdo … EDUARDO.”
Not wanting to make a scene on the ferry, I called out as loudly as I dared, but still Eduardo did not hear me. As he took a seat on the other side of the ferry, I nearly jumped out of my seat to follow him. Soon we exchanged a huge hug as he scooted over to free up room for me to sit.
Two years ago, while at a spiritual ceremony in the Guadalajara area, Eduardo had met a couple from Spain. Eduardo had felt a strong connection with Carlos and Tina, but had not seen them since that time. Just a month ago, Carlos and Tina followed very strong spiritual guidance as they uprooted their lives and moved from Spain to Playa Del Carmen. Eager to reconnect with his old friends, Eduardo just “happened” to select the same Thursday morning 9:00 a.m. ferry for his first trip to Playa Del Carmen in over six months. Neither of us had even the slightest clue that the other would be on the ferry.
As Eduardo left home that morning, he was running late. Being eager to catch the ferry, he ran as fast as he could to arrive in time. During his rush, Eduardo had tripped over an uneven sidewalk, fallen down, and broken his reading glasses. But he still made it anyway, just in time—physically unharmed—but mentally preoccupied.
The forty minute ferry ride passed all too quickly—seeming to last only minutes. Eduardo excitedly told me how that particular Thursday on the Mayan Calendar was called “Caminante al Cielo” (literally translated as walker in the sky, or skywalker). He explained that this is the best day of all on which to begin a new journey. I smiled at the amazing “coincidence,” knowing that coincidence had nothing to do with it.
Soon Eduardo and I were standing on the pier at Playa Del Carmen. He was not meeting his friends until noon, so he helped me walk my stuff over to the hostel which was just two blocks away. I hurriedly checked-in, threw my backpack onto my bed, and securely locked up my bicycle in front.
Within mere minutes, Eduardo and I were again visiting nonstop as we walked along the quaint touristy waterfront streets of Playa Del Carmen. Stopping briefly at the bus station, I utilized Eduardo’s skills as a native speaker to exchange my Thursday Valladolid bus ticket for a new one on Saturday morning.
“I haven’t seen Michiko for a long time, and I would love to visit with her while I am here today.” Eduardo interjected. “But I have never been to her home, and I forgot to bring her phone number with me.
“No problem,” I responded, “I will give you her phone number and I will even show you where she lives if you would like.”
As we discussed Michiko’s address, Eduardo’s eyes lit up.
“That sounds like it is right in the same area where Carlos and Tina live.” Eduardo exclaimed with astonishment.
An hour later, after a delightful short walk and long visit on the beach, Eduardo and I found ourselves standing right in front of Michiko’s home. As we called through the fence to say hello, we were quickly escorted into her living room for an animated and loving impromptu visit.
“Carlos and Tina are my neighbors.” Michiko exclaimed. “I just met them briefly last week. Even though I barely know them, I felt a strong internal connection with both of them.”
Before we knew it, Eduardo’s scheduled noon visit with Carlos and Tina turned into a group visit with Michiko and I being included in the fun. I too felt a strong bond with them as I listened to the amazing stories of their spiritual journeys.
Through a series of spiritual experiences beginning with a Mexican Shaman that was visiting Spain in 1992, Carlos and Tina had been guided to attend ceremonies at Teotihuacan (the amazing pyramids near Mexico City) on October 11, 1992—the eve of the five-hundred year anniversary of Christopher Columbus’s visit to the Americas. Amazingly enough, Michiko had been at Teotihuacan the next day on October 12, as tens of thousands of Native Americans from all over North and South America had gathered in celebrations of dance and ceremony.
The inspiring stories went on for hours, but I will just make two main points here.
The first point is that Carlos and Tina are in close contact with the main organizer of the Olmec ceremonial events near Valladolid next week. While they themselves will not be at the event, Carlos gave me the organizer’s email address. By Friday I had all of the information I need—dates, itineraries, and locations. By Saturday evening, I even had reservations for a place to stay. The five-day event will take place at the Mayan Ruins of Ek’Balam, just a thirty minute taxi ride north of Valladolid. The timing of all this is working out to be amazing. Rest assured that I will write about the entire experience as it unfolds.
The second amazing point is that unbeknownst to Eduardo and Michiko, Carlos and Tina have both been studying “A Course In Miracles” since 1992. What a synchronous small world this is.
Feeling exhausted, I excused myself from the friendly gathering shortly after 6:00 p.m.. For over seven hours, I had been listening nonstop to conversations almost entirely in Spanish. My weary brain circuits needed a break from intensely focusing on struggling to hear and understand every spoken word, every sound. Amazingly, while I often still feel like a deer staring at headlights, I am gradually improving in my language abilities. Each conversation builds more and more confidence.
Hostile Hostel
My first night in a hostel was definitely an interesting experience. The universe could not have guided me to a more rustic, noisy, rundown place. To put it a positive light, this was the perfect opportunity to gain experience so that I will have the ability to choose and appreciate nicer hostels in the future.
I had not even paid attention when I hurriedly parked my stuff in the room earlier on Thursday morning. That evening, as I settled into my private quarters, I first noticed that I had a large steady stream of ants using my room as a busy two-lane highway. They entered under one door, proudly carrying all types of leaves and other prized possessions. After traversing the length of the wall, they silently exited through a hole in the other side.
Next I discovered to my surprise that my door would not latch or lock from the inside, and it had a large gap at the top through which adventurous mosquitoes were hunting new prey (me). But not to worry—management had left me a nice conch shell to use as a makeshift doorstop to hold the outside door “mostly” closed while I slept.
I didn’t even mind too much that one of the two shared toilets in the coed bathroom had a broken handle and would not flush—or that there was no toilet paper at all throughout that first night. I soon discovered that unused napkins can be really useful.
With the help of my trusty earplugs I nicely dealt with the fact that the girl who manages the hostel had invited her boyfriend and a bunch of other friends over to drink, play music, and talk loudly in the nearby outdoor common area until the wee hours of the morning.
The overall experience taught me a great deal about myself—mainly in the area of expectations and attachments. At first glance, every seeming flaw that I noticed in the hostel seemed unmanageable, just simply wrong, needing immediate correction. But then I realized that these were all thoughts in my head.
My perceived judgment of things as being good or bad is was what caused various negative emotions to rise up. As soon as I convinced myself to “Love What Is”, I actually found humor and peace in what was happening, treating the whole experience as an adventure to talk about later.
In that state of smiling peace, I actually slept quite well—in spite of the noise.
Beach Nostalgia
Michiko called me Friday morning and asked if I wanted to go for a final walk along the beach. Our stroll took us to places to which I had never yet ventured, and our conversation did the same.
After a long walk northward along beautiful white sandy shores, with waves nipping at our bare feet, we found a large abandoned thatch-roofed umbrella lying invitingly on its side. In the cool shade of that welcome shelter, we sat looking out over the beautiful white sand and crystal blue waters. Across the channel, in the distant horizon, three cruise ships and many hotels were clearly visible.
“Don’t you feel nostalgic?” Michiko asked, as we sat staring at Cozumel in the distance.
“Yes, I really do.” I responded, as tears began to stream from behind my sunglasses.
Initially, I attempted to hide the tears, but soon gave up and just let them flow as the two of us chatted. I told Michiko of my fears, explaining that these were not fears of being harmed or of being unable to survive in the Yucatan.
“No,” I told her, “These are fears of losing my ego identity—fears that stem from doubting myself, doubting my abilities to remain committed to my spiritual growth. I have come so far, yet the journey ahead can at times seem so daunting.”
After a short pause while wiping a few tears away from my dripping cheeks, I continued.
“Sometimes I think it would be so easy to just fly home and resume my old safe and stable lifestyle. But I know I can never go back to that way of living. It is kind of like being stuck between two worlds, knowing that you can never go back to where you came from—knowing that you must continue forward on your journey—but being afraid of where you are going.”
After several hours of heartfelt visiting, Michiko and I said our goodbyes. My feelings of nostalgia followed me throughout the afternoon and evening. With each glimpse of Cozumel in the distance, my heart swelled with gratitude as I reminisced about my friends, my experiences, my memories—but at the same time, excitement was building. My heart was again renewing itself with spiritual energy as I contemplated my next steps. In less than sixteen hours I would find myself loading my bicycle and backpack into the luggage compartment of a large tourist-class bus—and I knew there would be no looking back.
Valladolid, Here I Come
Early Saturday morning, I walked my bicycle through the pedestrian-only area near the waterfront. Just a few minutes later, I dismounted my bicycle after a short eight block ride to the alternate bus station in Playa Del Carmen. My heavy backpack proved to be awkward but manageable as I wheeled my bicycle inside the waiting area of the bus station.
“No bicycle.” The luggage handler mumbled gruffly as I stood watching him load everyone’s luggage into the bottom of the bus.
My heart skipped a beat as I responded in my best Spanish, “But I asked several people, and they all told me that I could bring it with me.”
“Yes, you can bring it with you—but you will have to pay extra.” He replied back.
I already knew about the extra fee and eagerly handed over the extra hundred pesos that this stern man asked for. A feeling of grateful relief flooded through my body as I watched my bicycle slide through the wide open door into the almost-empty luggage compartment. One of my biggest concerns was now behind me.
The two and a half hour bus ride went very quickly. Our journey first took us south to Tulum, after which we turned in a northwest direction back toward Valladolid. I occupied my time by continuously studying the beautiful lush green jungle and occasional villages, inhaling as many details as possible.
The road was very narrow, often having no shoulders whatsoever. As we pulled up behind slower drivers, our bus driver repeatedly passed them with confidence, as if he were driving a small sports car. A few times, rapidly approaching oncoming drivers honked and flashed their lights—informing our driver that they did not especially care for his driving skills. For the most part, however, I actually felt quite safe.
As we neared Valladolid, a considerable portion of the narrow paved road was undergoing road construction, but apparently those delays must have been built into the schedule because the bus still arrived early in Valladolid. After nearly ten minutes of winding through extremely narrow city streets, we pulled up and stopped at a small modern bus station. As I handed my tickets to the baggage worker, I pointed out my backpack and my bicycle. Just seconds later, I was standing on the sidewalk in front of the bus station, clueless about which way to go next.
I had studied the directions on the hostel website, and knew that my hostel was only three blocks away, but my memory suddenly went blank. Armed with the address and a good set of instincts, I set out on my journey. Soon I realized that I had guessed wrong and I reversed my direction, heading east instead of west. At the next corner, I turned right, only to discover a block later that I had once again gone in the wrong direction. Finally, after six blocks of walking back and forth through crowded busy streets, I came to a beautiful little park. There on one edge was a large sign with the words “HOSTEL.”
I was home.
I am so impressed by this hostel. My room is extremely clean, freshly painted, and the bed is ‘oh-so-comfortable.’ This afternoon, while writing, I overheard the young owner telling another guest that he and his girlfriend just opened the hostel a few months ago. I can tell they love this place by the way they take care of both the facilities and their guests.
I had managed to reserve one of four private rooms. Mine is on the second floor, overlooking a beautifully landscaped garden area below. Two darling little Chihuahuas and two happy purring kitties wander around among the grounds. I share a rooftop toilet and shower with the couple in the room adjacent to mine. The facilities include two kitchens for use by guests—one indoor and one outdoor. I could not be happier.
After acquainting myself with the hostel facilities, I set out on foot to explore the center of the city, hoping to find some much-needed lunch. Soon, I was walking through an indoor food-court-like building just across the street from the main town square. In addition to a few jewelry stores, about ten small eating establishments offer a wide variety of inexpensive local cuisine. Not feeling especially adventurous, I ordered a plate of grilled chicken with rice and beans.
While eating my delicious food, a beautiful little four-foot-tall Mayan woman approached me, wearing traditional Yucatan clothing, sporting glowing eyes, wrinkly skin, and a lovely toothless grin. For more than five minutes she worked tirelessly to try to convince me to purchase one of her hand-embroidered handkerchiefs.
Not taking no for an answer, she persistently gave me her sales pitch, telling me about how she had no money for food, and that selling handkerchiefs was how she earned money to feed her family—begging me to please, please, please buy something.
Her appeal was so deeply genuine and her smile so captivating that I could no longer resist. Handing her my money, I told her I did not need a handkerchief, but I wanted to pay for one anyway. Her eyes radiated light back at me as she asked for my name. Immediately, she began calling me “Brendita”—adding the “ita” as a term of endearment. My new friend “Maria Esther” is such a beautiful woman. That simple little ten minute conversation warmed my heart so deeply, filling my soul with unforgettable love.
After lunch, I spent several hours on my bicycle, orienting myself to the southwestern area of town, riding past many streets and buildings that were built in the sixteenth century.
As a beautiful evening rolled around, I returned to my new temporary home away from home. Opening my quaint wooden shutters, letting the cool night air drift through my room, I was serenaded by the sound of nearby crickets, chirping away in the cool night breeze.
Today, as I spent the day writing, barely even leaving the grounds of the hostel, I spent over two hours visiting with a lovely 67 year old lady from North Carolina. Ellen is here for eleven days by herself, exploring the Yucatan, having an especially deep passion for bird watching. In many ways, I could see much of myself staring back from her beautiful eyes.
“I love staying in hostels,” Ellen began, “because people are friendly and take the time to talk to each other, sharing their journeys and experiences.”
As my fourth day of a new adventure draws rapidly to a close, excitement fills my veins as I contemplate where these new explorations might take me—thinking about the people I will meet and the places I will see—but that is all in the future.
Right now, I am so very happy to be right here, in this very place, in this very moment.
My new world does not seem quite so scary after all. Somehow, all of my silly fears have once again melted away into peaceful nothingness.
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved