ON MEXICAN TIME

It’s a strange thing to come back home after spending a month on vacation.  Actually, it’s a strange thing to spend a month on vacation; period.  A strange and wonderful thing, at that.  It was a month filled with special memories like showing our son his first sun shower in the jungle, and bathing him in a tupperware container on the pool deck.  Life, for 28 days, was simple and sweet.  No TV, no bundling ourselves to keep warm, just bare bodies, salt air and family.

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But memory is a tricky little bugger, isn’t it?  I’ve only been home for 5 days and the fact that I’m freezing my metaphorical balls off coupled with the unfortunate truth that I have escaped the confines of my modest Toronto row house a grand total of ONE FUCKING TIME since being home, is making my mind romanticize my month en Mehico at an impressive rate.  Usually it takes a fair amount of separation from the bullshit that comes along with visiting a place so close to the equator before hindsight bundles everything up into a nostalgia-inducing package, but not this time.  This time, the withdrawals have already kicked in… hard.FullSizeRender_4

For example, I’m already looking fondly upon the memories of the first few days of our trip.  Ah Mexico and it’s complete lack of regard for urgency and common sense, isn’t it endearing? Wasn’t it hilarious when they lost our pack-and-play on the flight on the way down?  And how comical it was when I arranged to pick up a loner crib from a friend only to accidentally let her insane beast of a dog escape from her house and have to chase it around her gated community so it wouldn’t get hit by a car?

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How easy it is to forget the massive inconveniences of living in the jungle with a 10 month old baby.  Parrots, for example, are incredibly beautiful, vibrant birds, but have you ever heard those things screech at each other? Good lord every time they flew over our house, it marked an abrupt end to nap time.  But who cares? They are parrots for Christ’s sake!  Being woken by exotic birds isn’t a curse, it’s a blessing!  How could we have found them so annoying?

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I blame the cold.  But then again, if it weren’t for the cold, my memories of the warmth wouldn’t be even half as sweet.  So I guess we have arrived home at just the right time.  We had become accustomed to our barefoot existence.  The vibrant colours of the sky and sea and fruits and trees had started to fall into the background – afterthoughts even.  But now back in the muted greys of winter in Toronto, the colours and smells and sounds of the jungle take on new meaning again.  The memories of blatant political corruption and scented toilet paper (seriously though, what the fuck is with the scented toilet paper?) fade away and leave us only with the memories of paradise and the life we lived so happily together for one month on Mexican time.

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