When I was a kid in rural New Hampshire, I thought Mexico was a place where bandits and cowboys lived. On the TV shows I watched (where all my most important information came from), Mexicans seemed easy going unless somebody bothered them by eating corn out of their fields or shooting at their dog. Or stealing their daughters. Then all bets were off as to who was going to go down but somebody was. I loved Mexicans even more than I loved cowboys.
And that hasn’t changed.
In a few weeks I get to go to Isla Holbox again to do our second writing retreat there. I’ve traveled in Mexico more than I’ve traveled in any other country and it still touches me much like it did when I was a kid. I love the landscape – it looks so old and weathered and full of stories. I love the food, simple and spicy and full of surprises. I love how it feels in my belly.
I love the sky and the air and the water and the dirt. I feel them as though they are part of me, as though I am part of them. I want to write more when I’m there and, at the same time, I want to be quiet and walk around.
But maybe most I love the Mexicans. Easy going and generous unless you hurt something that is dear to them. Then, watch out.
So join us if you’re of a mind to.
I promise you’ll be hooked on Mexico.
Sign up here: https://www.wideopenwriting.com/holbox. We have space open the second week, Sunday, March 17-Friday, March 22.