La Barrita, Guerrero //
This morning feels measurably different than any other morning on the coast. Rather than waking up to the solid blue sky that we’ve been accompanied by from sun up to sun down for nearly two weeks, there is a solid layer of clouds hanging above. Everything from our truck to the trees is dripping with condensation. However, it’s not overcast for long before the sun breaks through and the clouds dissipate entirely from the sky.
Our nice little morning routine gets underway with reading, writing, stretching, catching up on email, and preparing breakfast. I make a mental note to enjoy it because soon enough we will be back on the road. When we will come across another place as inviting as this is anybody’s guess.
Every day that we’ve been here, we have a bite-sized conversation with Mark D. in passing while he tends to the grounds. With every interaction, we learn something new about the campground or the surrounding area, and it’s become clear why people choose to spend their entire winter here. The price is just right, the amenities abound, and everyone is friendly.
When we find out that the produce delivery man is next door, Mark, Heather, Adam, and I grab our pesos and head out to procure some groceries. In the bed of a pickup truck are rows of milk crates stacked three high full of various fruits and veggies. I stand at the back of the truck and name off what I would like. Aguacates (avocados), zanahorias (carrots), limones (limes), tomates, and platanos (bananas). I grin with excitement as a man selects and bags my requests. Few things make me as happy as fresh fruits and vegetables.
Come late afternoon, the four of us walk down the beach to try out one of the various seafood restaurants that occupy the shoreline. They seamlessly blend from one to the next. The color of the plastic chairs at each table is the only differentiating factor between restaurants. We end up at Las Palmas, the place with the blue chairs and matching hammocks. The fact that each restaurant has dozens of hammocks hanging up between the tables speaks to how Mexicans treat dining out. It’s a leisurely affair that is never rushed. More often than not, multiple generations are seen at a table together, and parties of six or eight are far more common than parties of two. Most restaurants are family-run, and at this particular spot, it appears as though grandpa is in charge of the entertainment. While he plays DJ and sings, people dance in the sand. The tranquil nature of dining in Mexico is driven home by the server who takes a break from her shift to join the dance party.
After our early dinner, we walk back home amidst dozens of people of all ages enjoying the beach. As us outsiders pass by, I wonder how common it is for a Mexican son or daughter to leave the nest and pursue their own path in life the way Mark and I have, as many Americans do. I have a lot of admiration for the family-oriented nature of the Mexican culture. With that admiration, I also notice how my wings have always been so much stronger than my roots.
And so it makes perfect sense that after a week getting to know a place, Mark and I are both ready to put the truck in drive and see where the road takes us next.
…
The quiet street that leads to the campground. 
We were directed to give all our organic waste to these guys. When they see us coming, they know they’re about to get fed. 
The sign translates to: “Maybe life is about being thankful, helping, learning, accepting, and loving.”
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What a great day! I love all the blue touches, especially the hammocks, at the restaurant! The produce truck sounds amazing. I wish there was one in my town!
You would love the produce truck!
I love this line .. I also notice how my wings have always been so much stronger than my roots.
So perfect for us travelers. ❤️
A blessing and a curse, I know you know exactly how it feels.