Life Lesson 'a la Oaxaca'

Smaller is really better. Less is really more… aka SIMPLICITY.

Time here has been spent not only getting acquainted with this beautiful, historical city filled with Mexican Flava, but also with la Casa Marisol. Prior to Oaxaca, our relationship lay within the boundries of fun transportation ... with an occasional sleepover. I had duped myself into believing that real living consisted of a foundation, 4 walls (Casa Majahua being the exception… wall-less is the way to go for beach living if you can pull it off like my MAPS), and some kind of roof. The bigger, the better… space to stretch and lay out all my pretty, pretty stuff. Long term living in Casa Marisol?!? Que? Imposible!

Turns out… Joke was on me.

I was the laughing stock of the (trailer) 'trash’ when I pulled into OTP (Oaxaca Trailer Park) with boxes, tires, massage table, and gigantic ice chest piled in the middle of my van. The only way I could sleep inside was to pull everything out each night. Efficiency at it's best!!!! As I look around at the organized set ups theses people had, I knew I had it all wrong...

and Two weeks later….

I live in a real Casa Marisol, with an abundance of living space, fancy new plaid walls, a comfy, almost queen sized bed, custom mosquito screens and plenty of room to move about my humble abode without falling over a pile of boxes on my front doorstep! Un Milagro! …

And what have we learned… that, yes, smaller really is better and less really is more. I have everything I need right here and right now (which does not include an oil lamp from the 1800s) in my small 10x10 space (minus my luxury, space taking items that consist of Trader Joe‘s foods and books.. but even with all that, I have plenty of space thanks to my savvy ‘Noah’ and plagiarized tricks from The Ark) and I am happier than I have ever been living in all the spaces I have lived in over the years. No big trips to the supermarket, no splurging of fancy home décor (despite the abundance of amazing Mexican art in Oaxaca), no excess. Simple… and the beachfront view, ain’t nothing to complain about…. God Bless the VW Westfalia.

(pre Remodel... notice pile of "stuff")

"...and The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round..."

Closing the chapter in Troncones and on to the next adventure... Finished off wih a proper send of from the Troncones famlia...Surfing Saladita, Thanksgiving Tamales/Pozole, Sipping exquisite Tequila while munching on Pumpkin Pie orgasmo Present Moment, and late night dancing at la Casa de Mitch... not a bad way to say adios... making it even harder to pull myself away... detach, detach, detach... Whats the point of clinging in a forever changing world?

I can't ignore the call South... or the compass reminder sitting on my dashboard alter. It's time... but not without a few challenges in the mix... Bliss and ease can't be every single moment... Wouldn't know bliss, if I didn't know shit. The lesson is to remain in a place of heart and find love in even the shittiest of situations... Which doesn't come easy when my first reaction to hitting a wall is to want to curl into a little sad ball of depression and try to cry... I accept that place of sadness and realize it's ok to feel that emotion without attachment... detach, detach, detach... It's all part of the game right? Shit and Bliss are really one in the same... One couldn't exist without the other... The beauty of polarity...

Currently, the shit is coming from the Mexican government.. one of my least favorite groups to deal with... Everything is hazy and questionable in Mexican law... Despite my numerous efforts to find the LOVE government official to support me in my endeavors of adopting Marisol as an official Mexican, I just can't seem to locate "the one." Shouldn't it just be an automatic thing? Me Mexican = Marisol Mexican? Not according to "them." They say she is too old and will not welcome her as a permanent Mexican.. only a 6 month visitor... And the only way the wheels on the bus (can) go round and round is if we go all the way back to "Go" (aka Nogales, Arizona) and start over with a new 6 month permit! I keep telling "them" that Marisol is a Mexican. What kind of Gringa name is Marisol? Can "they" not hear the find Mexican Diesel hum coming from her engine? What about the black smoke shooting out of her back end? If thats not a Mexican bus, I don't know what is... But at this point, I can't seem to convince them otherwise. The rules are the rules.. depending on who you ask and when... but for now, the consensus is NO! I refuse to bow down and call it quits... the stubborn in me says never take NO for an answer... Solution: Run to the hills of Oaxaca and hide like a true Guerrilla. Illegals on the run from La Migra... What a chapter in our adventures South! Wish us luck, mis amigos...


To be continued...