Winter is a Terrible Adventure - February 7 2011

Last winter my family went to Mexico right in the middle of winter. All six of us hopped into a van and fled the wicked grasp of February. For four days we lazed about like sea slugs on abandoned beaches, got stung by xenophobic jellies, gathered seashells for measuring cups, and ate the fruits of the sea. At one point I pondered the amount of little creatures inhabiting my stomach and wondered whether the uneasiness (disease) I was feeling was social disorder or simply overpopulation (but that’s beside the point). We all speak Spanish dismally, but it was good fortune that the only motel that would take us in the night we arrived at our destination was run by a Mexican who married a Frenchwoman, and harbored a passion for Italy and thus, Italian. My mother speaks fluent French and was happy to exercise her gifted tongue. I was recently returned from my trip to Italy and the effects of my immersion were still not totally worn off, I still yelled “BASTA” in my Italian voice whenever I was allowed the good fortune to get annoyed. BASTA BASTA BASTA! The gentleman who ran the motel also spoke quite adequate English, so we got along very fashionably.

We stayed in a small place called Baia de Kino, which we found delightfully deserted and foreign enough. The landscape consisted mostly of sand, palms, and desolately empty beach houses. My family enjoyed each other very much during our stay at Kino Bay. We walked and played, attempted snorkeling with antique equipment, created shell designs in the sand, sun tanned (worshipped), and as I mentioned before,  ate large amounts of seafood. To supplement the seafood we ate fresh tortillas, gorgeous fruits, plump vegetables and odd little candies from the convenience store. But alas, all good (wonderful) things must come to an end, and before we knew it we were crammed again, though this time much tanner, happier, and less Vitamin D deficient, into our ruby red caravan. We drove to my grandmothers house in northern Arizona, it was a horribly long drive, followed by another ten hour trip the next day. Overall, the trip was wonderful, like walking out your door on February 20th into a gorgeous 75 degree morsel of perfection.

I am writing this now almost a year later, forgive me if you sense some longing. Colorado winters are lengthy and cold. The air is dry, the nights bitter, the days short. But this too is an adventure. Going places is fun and exciting and valuable. Movement and change can be almost irresistible, but sometimes staying where you are and fighting through everyday challenges can be the biggest adventure of all. Staying up studying, navigating icy sidewalks, giving directions, getting lost, letting go, giving up, giving advice, staying warm, writing, reading, crying, speaking, and drying out. These adventures are real, terrible, and challenging. But when summer comes again in her glory, her short sleeved, hair down, barefoot glory. The survivors of cold and gray will revel with joy unbridled.