Decision Paralysis and Dancing in the Rain
Currently sitting at Miscelanea Cafe with Liz, a friend I made at my hostel. We’re getting some work done, and by “work,” I mean I’ve savored a fruit bowl, read a chapter of my fantasy book, and am now finally getting around to recapping my second day in Sayulita.
Whenever I travel, I wake up with so much joy for the day ahead. I felt that again this morning, but I was also curious how the day would unfold, knowing I had no set-in-stone plans. I’m your classic type-A-turned-type-B person, someone who used to make detailed spreadsheets for every trip, and now just books a plane ticket and a hostel, and lets the rest happen. I can’t tell you exactly where that shift came from, but I do know it’s helped me become more present in my travels and allowed life to happen to me, instead of trying to control every detail.
My morning consisted of simply existing on the rooftop of my hostel. I leapt into the swing chair and took in the 360-degree views of palm trees, lush mountain tops, and the rippling dark-blue ocean. A common theme throughout today was gratitude for where I was and what I was experiencing. It’s beautiful here, and I keep taking both regular and mental photos. I called my parents, sent Niranjani a voice memo debriefing my night out, and chatted with John, a fellow hosteler I met the night before during music trivia. John is hilarious. He unfortunately fell off his bunk bed when he stumbled back into the dorm in the middle of the night, leaving him with a god-awful bruise. He later posted a photo of the delicious tacos he had for lunch, so I’m assuming it was just a bump in the road on what turned out to be a great day.
I walked through town to a cafe for brunch and some work time. I fell deeply into the world of my book, taking only two chilaquiles breaks in between chapters. I’m currently reading Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel. It’s an incredible novel about Princess Kaikeyi and her internal-to-societal journey fighting for her, and other women’s, independence in a world built and controlled by men. Sounds like more than just fantasy, I must admit...
After a few hours, I went back to the hostel, changed into my bathing suit, and hit the beach for some much-needed photosynthesizing. The plan was to beach for an hour and then meet Abbey and some other girls from the hostel for a surf trip. I took a refreshing dip and laid under the sun for that hour, it completely recalibrated me. Around 3 p.m., Abbey texted that plans had changed and she’d be surfing later in the week. That was fine by me, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t stir up a little tension in the tiny bit of Type A still living in me. What would I do now to make the most of the rest of the day?
Now, backtrack to the night before, watching the sunset on the beach. I had set one very important solo-traveling guideline for myself, knowing exactly how I tend to react in situations like this: “You being here is enough. Don’t pressure yourself to always be ‘doing something.’” I remembered that in the moment and slipped out of decision paralysis and back into the joy I was already feeling. I took a fat nap on the beach, fading in and out to the sounds of waves crashing onto the shore. Then, I walked along the sand, taking mini swim breaks along the way. It was a slow, intentional, and relaxing afternoon, and knowing that I trusted my gut and went with the flow instead of spiraling into a worry-state of “am I doing enough?” felt like insane personal growth.
Later, I took a crazy-good everything shower and headed off on my sunset hike around 6 p.m. But first, I stopped for the best al pastor street tacos in the world, made friends with Simone and Alex from L.A., and then went on the hike. Google Maps told me it would be a quick and easy half-hour to the beach and another half-hour back. What it didn’t mention was the steepness of the hills or the lack of cell service deep in the jungle. That’s on me—I should have known better. So there I was, alone in the midst of beautiful but unfamiliar terrain. I kept wondering if I should turn back, maybe return with a buddy the next day. The smart decision probably would’ve been to turn around, but my curiosity about the hidden beach known for its sunsets wouldn’t let me. So I pressed on, placing all my faith in the trail signs and the small sliver of hope in humanity that I’d be safe, while alone.
Not that I recommend doing this—but damn, it was worth every stupid decision. As I reached the beach, I was met with a seashell-pink sky, dogs running in the sand, and people celebrating the end of the day. I called my people back home. My dad was (understandably) stressed that I’d done the hike alone. My friends were all at Fiddle Sticks and I couldn’t hear a word they said, but just seeing their faces was nourishment enough. I soaked in the five minutes I’d allotted myself before heading back, knowing I probably shouldn’t do the same trek in the dark.
The world is so beautiful—and that’s all I could think about on my way back to town. How wonderful is it to get lost in nature and let that overwhelm all the consuming thoughts that usually steal moments like this from you? The struggle with generalized anxiety is real, it’s something I’ve navigated my entire life, but it’s moments like this when I’m really proud of getting out of my head and into my body.
Back in town, I went to the beach I’d been at earlier and ran into my bunkmates, Liz and Val, at a beach bar. I bought a well-deserved beer and reflected on the day with them. They told me the story of how they met, and I got chills. They first met while studying abroad in Italy, and then, exactly a year later, Liz found herself backpacking through South America and met up with Val in Uruguay. Now they’re here, backpacking together, working remotely, and just living. I can’t wait for them to meet my bestie Prachi, who’s flying in right now!
Mid-conversation, the sky lit up with strobe-like lightning and thunder so loud it launched us off our lounge chairs. I chugged my beer and we started our walk back to the hostel. I was hoping the rain would hold off until we got past that ridiculous hill... but nope. It started pouring about two seconds into the walk. Honestly though? I was having the time of my life. We laughed and speed-walked through the rain, and when we got back, we did something that lit a freaking fire in my soul.
We danced in the rain.
We twirled. We spun. We sat in a hammock and pretended it wasn’t downpouring on us like it actually was. The nonchalance was hilarious, and when I say I’ve never felt so in tune with Mother Nature, I mean it. I felt so bonded with these women after that. To know there are people out there who enjoy this kind of thing, and that it took leaving home to find them, is just really beautiful. There are really cool people out there. You just have to say hello.
After three power outages and a cat finding shelter in my bunk in the middle of the night (which scared me shitless), I woke up to messages from my dad and my ex-boyfriend warning me about the hurricane hitting Mexico. I think Sayulita is far enough away to stay safe, but to know we danced in a hurricane is way too funny to me.
Oh, and also, Peacock doesn’t work outside of the U.S., so I can’t watch Love Island this week. That actually hurt when I found out. So no spoilers, please!
