Brat Summer In Sayulita
Good morning! It’s 10:08 a.m., and I’m either still drunk from last night or experiencing a new form of hangover… I’ll let you know very soon, but first let's recap last Thursday!
The past few days have been jam-packed, and I’ve gotten so lost in the present, it’s been magical. The biggest news? Prachi touched down Thursday evening! I’m finally reunited with her on this trip celebrating ten years of friendship. She’s my first and longest-standing friend, and knowing she’s seen me in all my forms, known all my crazy exes, and talked me out of many crashouts makes me feel both incredibly grateful, and genuinely concerned about what my life would look like without her.
Before she arrived, I had a lackluster experience at the beach that beautifully turned into a rock-climbing adventure. I started off at Playa Sayulita, the main beach by the town square. I set up my towel, cracked open a Pacifico, pulled out my book, and took a quick dip in the water. It was the day after dancing in the rain, and the current was strong. I made eye contact with a gigantic wave just as it crashed down and knocked me on my ass. You’d think I’d be concerned for my safety in that moment, caught in a rip current, but no, my first instinct was to look around to see if anyone saw my clumsy moment of vulnerability.
Sergio, the lifeguard, definitely saw. The first thing he said as he walked over, chuckling, was, “I saw you get caught in that rip current…” He then kindly recommended other nearby beaches with calmer waves. I headed to Playa Los Muertos, just 700 meters down the coast, a much better fit for my mermaid energy. And as if things weren’t bad enough, Liz WhatsApped me to say there had been a sewage spill at Playa Sayulita and to avoid swimming there at all costs. So there I was, standing still, slowly realizing… I had eaten shit in literal shit water.
Liz and Val joined me on the walk to Los Muertos. After passing through a cemetery and scaling rocks to climb over a fence (we misjudged the entrance), we finally arrived at the most beautiful beach, tucked away in a cove. Local families picnicked while their kids jumped through waves, and Mac, our bartender, gave us recommendations for the days ahead. Life was good. I was very happy.
Prachi was en route in her Uber, so we made our way back to the hostel. Val had the brilliant idea to scale the rocks from one side of the cove to the other, closer to town. So we climbed over rocks, ducked through branches, spotted the cutest and most awkward crabs and snails, took a dip in a natural whirlpool, only to realize we had miscalculated our shortcut. Our options were: go all the way back or cut through private property. So we did just that. We ran through what looked like a mini version of the Love Island villa as our shortcut into town. To say it was liberating would be a massive understatement. These girls match my adventure freak to a T.
Living is letting your curiosity guide you, and not taking it all so seriously. And that’s exactly what we were doing.
Fast forward to the evening, finally reunited with Prachi! We sipped margaritas and munched on guac by the pool. We met Lucy, who introduced us to Jade, both from Australia. Lucy was just starting a six-month backpacking journey, and Jade was two years into hers! We bonded over fish tacos, shared drinks, and then found ourselves at karaoke night, where the barter system worked in my unemployed favor: sing a song, get a tequila shot. Prachi and I really wished it were the other way around, but regardless, songs were sung and shots were taken.
Now, let me preface this: while we were on the rooftop singing and drinking, lightning lit up the sky in five second intervals and torrential rain poured down around us. Around 11:30 p.m., as the night began to wind down, someone invited us to a 2000s DJ set in town for Throwback Thursday. If you know Prachi and me, you know we eat that shit up. We had no choice but to go.
We convinced Lucy, Liz, and Val to join. Every time someone hesitated, I jumped in with, “When else will you be going out dancing in Sayulita in a literal hurricane?” Worked like a charm.
We ran through the rain to the bar, which was surprisingly packed. We took more shots and did what girls do best and had an incredible night dancing. I love girls' night out because there’s no reason to overthink anything. Even though I’d just met some of these girls a day or two ago, there’s a deep sense of safety in female friendships. We can start the night ranting about red flags over dinner and end it dancing freely, fully present in the community of each other.
Liz and Val called it a night earlier, but Prachi, Lucy, and I wanted to shake our asses for a little longer. That night reminded me heavily of Brat Summer. I was muggy, sweaty, rained-on, and felt absolutely disgusting, but in the sexiest way possible. Wet hair, open-toed sandals, sticky heat, everyone shows up like that here. No one cares how they or anyone else looks. It’s freeing not to let the fear of being perceived ruin your night, so different from the vibe back home in NYC. I can’t wait to take this carefree mindset back with me.
By the time we decided to leave, the roads had started flooding. Please picture three drunk girls crossing something resembling a level-three rapid, climbing over a dumpster, and Prachi losing her sandals in the process. We made it up the damned hill to the hostel. Prachi bought new shoes the next day.
I will never get over going out in the hurricane.
I love Sayulita!
