Day 5

I tried to purposely keep today relaxed. My skin needed a break and so did I. Francisco had left to Chiapas last night, so I had no more young friends left at my hostel. This was ok, but the old people really spoke a lot, so I needed a break from listening to everyone's life story.

I decided to go do my mom a favour. She weaves, and this region of Mexico is famous for weaving. I had seen a massive loom in a shop last night during me and Francisco's walk. I decided to go back to it and ask if they knew a place that hosted workshops. My mom had mentioned that the workshops she had found online had been terribly expensive, so I figured a local scoop might help.

When I asked the lady about weaving lessons, she told me I needed to speak to Manuel. Manuel was working upstairs, so I was directed through what felt like a secrete passage to a massive studio above the shop. There were looms as big as the entire room there. Manuel was sewing something. He told me that he didn't know of any place that taught lessons officially, but that, if my mom was partly-experienced, she could come and sit next to him and his colleagues and watch them weave for free. 

My next stop was the collectivo place. I needed to book my overnight ticket to Oaxaca, and with the panic I had seen from Sandrina about things selling out due to Easter weekend, I felt like I needed to get on it. I wandered the town until I eventually stumbled upon the collectivo station. I have really had a hard time orienting myself in this town. 

I snagged the last seat for the 11:59pm departure, so it was a good thing I came. 

After wandering aimlessly for a little longer, I found a coffee shop with strong WiFi on the town square and ordered a strawberry smoothie. I spent the next 5 hours catching up on my journals and looking into accommodations for the rest of my trip. 

My fellow hostel dwellers had given me some interesting suggestions for my future countries, so I wanted to look into them. 

Sandrina was leaving tomorrow morning, so she had asked me if I wanted to grab a "bebida de despidida", which means a farewell drink. I had said sure, so I messaged her to ask when and where she wanted to meet. I went back to the hostel to meet her after her reply.

She was back at the hostel in a crisis. She had been on a boat tour today and had lost her wallet. She had told the entire hostel about her crisis. I told her to check her bag calmly again, but there was no calming her down. She just kept repeating that she wasn't going to be able to leave tomorrow. 

30 seconds later, she resolved to cancel her cards, but didn't know how. I was going to have to help her. By this point, Jim had gotten out of his own bed to come and try to defuse the situation. We told Sandrina that we would both help her cancel her cards in 15 minutes because it was likely that they were still with her and just simply misplaced. It was 30 seconds after that that she found her wallet in a different purse. She insisted the devil had put it there because she was sure she had left it in another bag. Problem solved.

Jim told her he was 62, and, at his age, he had accepted that things were never lost, but always misplaced. Thus, panic wasn't needed. He went on to reiterate his theory of the energies of the universe. If it was meant to be, it would be. If Sandrina had actually lost her wallet, then she was meant to stay put in Huatulco for a few days -- that was the universe's sign. Jim told us about the things he had lost on his journey and the things he had gained and how everything always worked out exactly as it was supposed to, even when it seemed like it was going awry. Per his statement, nothing was a hassle -- it was just a new adventure. 

Sandrina didn't agree with him and harshly dismissed him, but he laughed. She said she was going to the bathroom and that I should be ready to leave after she was done. In this brief time, Jim confided to me, with a signature giggle, that Sandrina was completely crazy, but he loved that about her. 

Sandrina and I made our way to the bar, where I ordered a Cuba Libre and she ordered two shots of mezcal for herself. Of course, there was a signature shrimp cocktail to go with it. 

The bar we went to, Maz Mezcal, was on the town square and opened up onto a cool terrace. From there, we saw Jim wandering the plaza, looking lost. I called at him and he came and sat down with us. 

Jim was looking for a barber. He found one that Google maps said was open until 10pm. Google Maps is never correct in Mexico, so obviously the place was closed. Jim managed to make an appointment with the guy for the following day. He hadn't gotten a shave or haircut since his left for his trip in December. He felt like he was looking older than he was.

Sandrina was telling a story about how most of her family had died before 60. Jim said his family faced the same fate. He was born to a welfare family, with a teen mom who didn't know how to be a mom. She had died from cancer at 55. His dad died from Huntington's Disease at 58. Huntington's, being a very inheritable disease, meant that, between Jim and his 2 sisters, one would surely get it. He didn't want to get tested for it because he didn't want to live in fear if he was at risk. Eventually, his older sister got it when she was 57 and died soon thereafter. His younger sister had also already died from a drug overdose. Jim had never married or had kids. Despite this familial tragedy, he just reiterated how lucky he felt to be alive and be living as well as he did. 

He went on to explain to Sandrina that, for him, this trip was his equivalent of visiting the psychiatrist. He was on his "nothing really matters tour of Mexico". He debated between calling it the "nothing matters tour" or the "nothing really matters tour" and opted for the latter because the former sounded too nihilistic. He said traveling kept him young, and I could see it. He was so lively for a 62 year old. He had gotten stung by a stingray and it hadn't phased him until it had gotten infected and he needed to run a course of antibiotics. He had lost his prescription sunglasses, but that was because he had manifested to the universe that he didn't like the way they fit his face. He now had a new pair that he liked so much more from Mexico City. He said his ultimate goal was to die young as old as he could.

We finished our drinks and Sandrina picked up the tab. Jim said he was hungry, so we walked a route that we hoped would have had street tamales. It didn't, so we went back to the hostel empty-handed.

There was a new girl in the bed next to me. She was from Mexico City and worked in Market Research. She looked about my age and very sweet. She had taken her Easter week to go to the beach and Huatulco was the place. We spoke for a bit since her English was really good and then went to bed.