letters to nobody #7: hangover

darling nobody,

the days that follow are some of the most depressing days i’ve had. all my wisdom, my epiphanies disappear into dust, when i realize what a rut i’m stuck in, a cycle of unhappiness.

daily life is a sham, i text my friend.

with a sigh, i accept that travelling is all i ever want to do, the only thing that seems to matter now- but of course, there’s other things to do, responsibilities to fulfil- and miles to go before i sleep.

it’s sort of like a hangover, coming back to reality- it’s painful and hard-hitting. i am mopey and tired and everything feels like a chore. every alternate day becomes ‘the worst day ever’ and my friend, aine, i imagine, gets used to my depressed text messages in a while.

her words comfort me more than anyone else’s. i’ve known aine for two years now, and it was always tragic- how far we are. she lives in america, while i live in india: the time zones mess things up, we’d hardly ever be awake at the same time. in just a week in mexico, though, i got used to being in the same time zone as aine, and somehow, being physically closer seems to have made us even better friends than we were for the last two years. one day, we’re going to travel around europe together, but today is not that day.

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the one thought that pushes me through the week is the thought of swimming again. the thought of cenotes and the cold, delicious water.

there is also a terrifying thought that lingers in the back of my mind: what if, after waiting for the weekend so eagerly, it turns out to be a disappointment? even the mere thought of it is more than i can bear: it seems like i am only alive for the weekend, for the travelling i do.

the mexican day of independence is on the coming weekend, so i will not be visiting my weekend host family. two weeks stretch out in front of me, and it feels like no less than two years.

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in the middle of the dull two weeks, there is, of course, the celebration on the fifteenth of september, the mexican day of independence. the excitement builds up as we’re given the details of everything that’s going to happen: the exchange students are going to the mayor’s party at palacio municipal as vip guests. hundreds of people gather outside the building to watch the fireworks display at midnight, but we are going to have dinner in the building and watch the fireworks from the best seats in the balcony. we’re all going to wear traditional mexican dresses, and receiving my dress only adds to my excitement.  it’s from the state of oaxaca- black, with red roses all over it. it’s stunning, accompanied by gold necklaces and earrings, and a ring that’s the colour of the Mexican flag.

the night of fifteenth takes its time to arrive, but it finally does- the dark sky is pretty, the moon a crescent-shape. i spend an hour or so getting ready, lorde’s melodrama playing in the background- but then, lorde’s melodrama is always playing in the background.

as silly as it sounds, i do feel a bit like a princess with flowers in my hair and a long, gorgeous dress. i can almost see a pumpkin carriage arriving to pick me up. it feels grand, in a childish way, to say i’m going to the mayor’s party. every time i say it, i’m back in the seventeenth century, going to a ball in my glass slippers.

all the exchange students are decked up, looking gorgeous in their colourful dresses. every state has a completely different dress, and they’re all equally beautiful. my personal favourite, though, is the dress from puebla, all colours and layers.

the crowd is endless. people are gathered around palacio municipal in hundreds. young couples, old men and women, fathers holding their children up on their shoulders. they’re all facing a stage, where dances are being performed by professionals. and they’re all happy to be here. despite the heat, the sweat, the crowd: it’s their love for their country that wins. it is the most awake I’ve ever felt: amongst the crowd of people, noises, candy floss vendors and toy sellers walking around.

we walk past them though, right into the building, where we spent some time watching the dressed up dancers practice and show off their moves, and watch the band practice. then, we are whisked away, to go to the dinner upstairs.

dinner is grand. there is only one vegetarian option, and i can’t get enough of it. i am told what it is called, and i forget the next instant, only remembering how delicious it is. there are multiple drinks to choose from, including, of course, the traditional horchata and jamaica. there are churros for dessert, and i fill my plate with them, unashamed. mexican food is, without doubt, one of the best parts of mexico- even if i can’t eat most of it because i’m a vegetarian.

there is also a variety of mexican candy lining up the table, and the other exchange students and i fill our tiny pockets with whatever we like.

we spend a long time mingling with the guests, introducing ourselves and smiling. the people are welcoming, they’re sweet and all want pictures with us- eight girls from different countries dressed in long, colourful dresses, the only ones wearing traditional mexican dresses.

when dinner is over, we are called outside to the balcony, to watch the fireworks display, which is beginning in some time.

the fireworks display is, undoubtedly, the best part of the night. it is preceded by music, that the entire crowd sings along to eagerly. the crowd screams and cheers excitedly the entire time, and it is enthralling. worked up and thrilled, the exchange students also join the crowd in cheering and shouting viva mexico. it’s an amazing feeling: to be one with these people, to be in love with mexico. there is a march in the balcony, one that has me stunned, unable to look away. this is followed, of course, by the tradition of the mayor ringing the bell, a proclamation that mexico is independent. the people shout happily, without reserve, full of pride for their country.

when the fireworks begin, everyone goes wild with joy, including me. they’re mostly red, white and green- the colours of the flag- lighting up the entire sky, showering down upon us. we all look up into the sky eagerly from the balcony, bouncing on the balls of our feet with happiness.

i realize, as i watch the fireworks, how much I adore mexico, the country that has begun to feel like my home. the warmth of mexico is rare, welcoming. it pulls you in, turning you into one of its own.

the party ends with the end of the fireworks display, and we all sigh at the thought of heading home. but eventually, we have to.

as we walk to the car that night, all together, an array of colours, we’re all overwhelmed with several feelings. love, solidarity, happiness, contentment.

we’re beginning to see what mexico is all about.

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the week after that isn’t as slow. it’s still hard, and i push through it with difficulty, sometimes finding myself unable to do anything but lie in bed.

eventually though, the next weekend arrives and i am off to puerto morelos once more.

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my saturday begins with shopping in cancun. my weekend family is opening a cafeteria and need some things. it’s not ideal, and i know it- but i also know that it’s going to get better. going to cancun is a pain because i prefer to be as far away from cities as i can nowadays, which is another reason why my weekend getaway matters to me so much.

once the shopping ends, though, things get better. we go to a small swimming pool on the roof of a house. it’s tiny, the water only comes up to my waist- but it’s also perfect, with a direct view of the blue sea. i stay in the water for an hour or so- i don’t even need to swim, i just need to stay in the water, feel it. the love i’ve developed for the water is almost overwhelming at this point: i’m happiest when i’m swimming, content and at peace. it’s pure bliss, and there’s nothing else i want to do.

i also realize, with some amusement, that swimming in a swimming pool holds nothing to swimming in a cenote, or in natural water bodies. to feel the little fish, the sunlight on your skin, the oneness with nature- it’s a completely different experience altogether and it’s magical.

my host mom tells me about how, when she was younger, puerto morelos was quieter, the beach bigger, and covered in coconut trees. there were barely any tourists and no sargazo at all. it all sounds rather dreamy, almost unreal- but i can imagine the tranquillity, and it makes me nostalgic for something i didn’t even get to experience.

we go to a beach after that.

my host mom takes me to a different beach- it’s quieter and emptier, she says- it’s in the hotel zone in puerto morelos.

as we drive to the other beach, i look out of the window for crocodiles: there are murky waters and jungles all the way, and i know that crocodiles live here.

i am terrified of crocodiles but also fascinated by them- just like i am with tigers. they strike me as mysterious and for some reason, the idea of being stranded in a forest and seeing a crocodile come out of the water thrills me. i think it has more to do with crocodiles being in their natural setting, powerful and smug as ever. i know i wouldn’t care as much if i was to see a crocodile in a zoo.

i look out the window the entire time, squinting hopefully as we pass through the trees quickly.

apparently, locals aren’t allowed to go to the hotel zone, so my host mom lies to the security, telling them we’re going to a building that has apartments up for rent.

the road gets bumpy after a while, with huge puddles. i tell my host mom about the roads in mumbai: how my father says that driving in mumbai is a free rollercoaster ride. it’s still funny to me- how the most random things remind me of home.

i see three teenagers riding bikes in the jungle, and i immediately know that i want to do it, too. i imagine it: riding a bicycle alone with no humans nearby, only nature. it’s the best thought i’ve had in a while.

the road gets better soon, but only because there are grand five-star hotels on both sides. just looking at the hotels makes me feel like i’m penniless. there is intimidating security everywhere, and i’m glad to leave the cold, unfriendly hotels behind.

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the beach is definitely empty, with only about four or five other people. there are dogs, though, and they look up when they hear me come. despite loving dogs, i’m a little scared at first- but i soon realize they mean no harm.

the view from the beach, to me, is more striking than the view of the beach. there are green trees, stretching far beyond where you can see them, and the sky is a pinkish blue. there is isolation, and if you haven’t figured it out yet, darling nobody, i love isolation. it is synonymous to peace.

the sea here forms small rocky pools, similar to the ones i have read about in enid blyton stories. there is also a tiny waterfall that disappears everytime the tide comes in. the water in the rocky pools is clear, and inviting. i don’t swim however: i know it’s too dangerous, especially with the sargazo. we stay there for a while- walking around, taking pictures- before we decide to leave.

it is time to go get esquite.

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esquite is a mexican dish made up of white corn, cheese and other condiments. i have eaten it once before and i love it. i dislike the yellow corn in india, and much prefer the white corn to it. mexico has a whole rainbow of corn: blue, white, yellow, red. white corn tastes more like rice than corn, and there’s nothing better, apparently, than white corn and cheese.

the shops for esquite, however, all seemed to be closed that day, and i mask my disappointment, and say that it’s okay. my host mom buys me churros instead, and says that we will come back in a while to see if the shops have opened. 

it starts raining by the time we get home. the rain only increases with time, falling upon the roof heavily as we sit in the house, hearing the thunder roar and watching the lightening strike. when the rain slows down for a bit, my host mom stands up, saying let’s go get esquite.

but the rain is relentless. it’s heavy again by the time the car starts. we can barely see what’s in front of us, and for a few minutes, i am terrified for my life. the weather is stormy, the whistling of the wind everywhere. i remember the news about a possible hurricane coming to cancun, and am certain, for a few seconds, that this is it. but it’s not.

the shop that sells esquite is under a bridge and we park the car and race to it. the man who makes esquite is kind, with the warmest smile. he chats with my host mom as he makes the esquite- i can see the steam rising from the stove, and just the thought of eating something so hot in the freezing cold makes me feel tons better.

needless to say, the esquite that night tastes way better than usual.

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my host mom owns a cenote.

the water isn’t clear, she warns me, because it’s deeper with plants in it- but i’m okay with it, of course. all i want to do is swim.

there is ziplining before swimming, though. i’ve never done ziplining before, and i am terrified of heights- but before i came to mexico, i had vowed to do anything and everything, regardless of whether it scares me.

ziplining is sort of petrifying.

it is less scary when you’re actually in the middle of it, flying- but to begin and to let go is the scariest part.

we cross a bridge in the air first, with separate wooden planks and in that moment, i am certain that i am going to lose footing and fall to a very painful death. surprisingly though, i survive, with a relieved shout of i’m alive!

this is followed by climbing up, and waiting on a wonky wooden platform built around a tree. this, i find scarier than ziplining itself- just looking down to the ground makes me want to leave and run right back to india. it takes me about five minutes and a lot of convincing to actually let go of the rope and fly.

that is, without doubt, the most terrifying part of it.

your brain controls your body, and it would never let you sit down on nothing and push yourself back into the empty air. it’s your heart you have to trust, but that’s not what i did- i convinced my brain that it was perfectly safe after sending a few people into the air before me. i don’t think my brain believed me- but it doesn’t matter because it worked. my body instinctively curled up and my stomach dropped, but it was worth it. it was fun, even.

like i said, it’s not that hard once you’re in the middle of it. we had to zipline six times, and by the third time, i got used to it- not even scared to let go. that was when my brain really believed i was safe.

i wouldn’t say ziplining was my favourite thing to do. it didn’t feel like flying or freedom to me, and after a point, the tight harnesses were painful. but i’m glad i tried it, nevertheless: it wasn’t unpleasant.

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we finally go to the cenote and it’s huge. the water is inviting and it takes me all of five minutes to find myself in the middle of it, lying on my back and soaking in the sun. i stay there for ages, of course, doing laps around the cenote and taking breaks to lie on my back. there are people who dive from high rocks, and as much as i love being in the water, i’m not brave enough to jump into it. atleast not yet. i know one day i will.

every time i swim, it feels like a completely different experience altogether- even if the exact same thoughts run through my head. the one thought that i always have in the water, without fail is: i’m never going to get enough of this.

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we leave the cenote early, to go to a pool party of sorts. the swimming pool belongs to the brother of my host mom, and his house is in the middle of a jungle. every sunday, family and friends meet up there to relax. this is where the food i’ve bought comes into the picture.

there are crisp tortillas that i love, quaker cookies and a drink that i absolutely adore: del valle mango.

it is important to mention that in this swimming pool in the middle of a jungle, i have a spirirtual experience when i discover for the first time a dip that i don’t just bear- it’s a garlic dip with chilli, and it changes my life.

we stay in this swimming pool for hours- there are a lot of children, and one specific girl seems to love rowing the boat in the big swimming pool. i want to try, of course, and she teaches me patiently, blabbering in spanish, not caring that i don’t seem to understand her. i realize soon, that rowing boats is not for me, and she looks at me with a sad shake of the head.

i want to hug her.

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darling nobody,

i think, maybe, i really will find myself here.

but i have a feeling that it’s the water i should be looking into.