There is something so exhilarating about solo travel. My senses are heightened and there is no hiding behind friend, child or partner.
I went to the lovely town of Patzcuaro about two and a half hours southwest of San Miguel de Allende. It is an old indigenous-colonial town in the state of Michoacan a mile or so from Lake Patzcuaro. The lake is in a basin surrounded by old volcanos. It is beautiful.
The town itself is a bit like this: imagine the architecture of an Austrian village with the vibrant street life of a third world culture, and somehow a flavor of the wild west.
Sunday the streets around the Plaza Grande are closed to cars so that kids and families can ride bikes, laugh, stroll. Such a high quality of life. Like many others, I got an ice cream (I chose the diablito flavor: salty, sweet and spicy tamarind & chiles ice) and sat in the park soaking up the sounds & sights.
The day before, on the crowded ferry to an island in the middle of the lake, three scrappy (but talented!) musicians played for the 45 minute ride. People were making requests, singing along, laughing, clapping. The musicians wore cowboy hats, had gold capped teeth, faded jeans and embroidered belts. Wedged between people, I inhaled deeply the incredibly intoxicating scent of humanity. I was the only guera (pronounced huera, and meaning “blonde” woman, or gringo).
I figured out where to eat, what to see, how to ride the vans that are a hybrid of buses and taxis. Travelling solo is such a high for me. I am at turns excited, scared, hopeful, anxious, curious, open, nervous, willing. Everything is new, and I’m called to be awake and aware. I often feel a tremendous sense of awe and wonder at this amazing planet and the people who inhabit her. God/Source/The Great Mystery is everywhere.