I found this post that I had written about an early morning solo exploration I had taken when I was on a girl’s surf trip in Sayulita, Mexico. I was in search of a yoga class that was being held in a local couple’s home. She was from Cuba and he from Mexico and they were holding their yoga classes on the roof of their palapa. The price of the class was by donation only so that the locals could afford to attend:
BEGIN: Early one Sunday morning in Sayulita, Mexico I walked out my door in search of a local yoga class. As I left the tourist part of town and walked through the narrow streets of the back neighborhood, I absorbed the sounds of roosters crowing, dishes clanking and beautiful music, foreign to my ears, pouring out of the open windows where colorful pieces of cloth flowed in the warm, tropical breeze. I inhaled the breakfast smells of bacon and eggs frying, knowing that the food came from their backyard and that the pig was most likely butchered amongst the Bougainvillea and jasmine.
I restrained myself from knocking on any door to ask, in my broken Spanish, if I could perhaps just sit quietly and watch the family enjoy their day of peace and holiness.
I never did knock and I missed the class but isn’t travel all about the journey and not the destination? END
That is what traveling is for most of us. The exposure to other people and cultures and the excitement and adventure of digging deep, reaching the heart of the town, meeting the locals, finding new lands or streets or food or crafts.
So why didn’t I dig deep while in New York City at the BlogHer conference? Why did I fly all the way there to meet other bloggers and make connections and then forget my mission as soon as the music began? Why did I escape to the Wii dance stage every chance I got to bust a move to their Just Dance 2 program?
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Jillian http://isdisnormal.com
