On Mexican time
I think, to God, we look like little ants scurrying to and fro – never really stopping to catch our breath and dream a little. Coming back from another country really stops you in your tracks. We came home from Mexico early on a Sunday morning, around 4 a.m., and by 7:30 the next day, I was at my desk at work.
I probably could've used a couple of extra days to unwind.
You do it by rote, the getting up and moving that propels you toward whatever is inside of your day. It's filled with running here and there, hurtling at warp speed to the next game, or the next appointment. We live a fast-paced life here that shows no sign of slowing down. It's the way we operate. Technology keeps moving at super-sonic speed, so why should we stop and deliberately step outside of the blur?
To keep our sanity. To enjoy what God has set before us. To breathe deeply of the lush summer air. To feel the wind on my face like a soft caress.
You've heard the saying, on Mexican time, right? Well, I'm still on it. And I can't seem to step back in to Eastern Standard Time.
A morning in Mexico, at least for us, started slowly. Yes, people are up and heading to work. Satchels on their backs, and long-sleeves on and ready for the burning sun that's been inhabiting that land. There is a tranquility, though, that you don't find here. A sense of ease and not being in a hurry. Coffee is made, eggs are fried, salsa is blended gently and eased over the eggs. The steam rises on the food and you just sit. Sit and savor each bite until somehow, you've talked away two hours and three plates of food.
I know we were on vacation – but they weren't.
There is no rushing you from the table so we can head off to our exercise class or get started on that huge load of laundry.
It might seem exasperating to some. This blithe disregard for each minute of the day. How dare they not cram everything into what little time the day affords? I say, how can we not?
The siesta, in and of itself, has been a much made fun of thing here in the USA. I understood, possibly for the first time, the merits of it this trip to Mexico. Around 2 p.m., when the sun seems to be shining so hotly, the windows and doors close on businesses and all falls silent. The Mexicans are on to something here. It was never a spoken thing, never a "Hey, let's take a nap right now," kind of thing. You just sort of gravitated toward the shade or a cool bed and fell asleep.
It's a reprieve from the sun and dust. A miraculous refresher that lets you continue your day. Blessed sleep, while the earth scorches, is nothing short of genius. We should incorporate this into our workday. I feel we would definitely become more productive.
Between 4 and 5 p.m., it's back in business. Ready to take on the rest of the day, the sun seems to slide into oblivion and cooler air takes its place. Your body, now refreshed, feels alive with the cool air and is ready to finish the day.
I know, in my heart, that George and I will eventually head south. Our kids are closing in on their last years of college and high school. We've felt that tug for years, to pack it in and travel that dusty, slow-paced road that is Mexico. He has put in our hearts what will sustain us and things we want to try.
I long for you all, though, to feel what it is to simply rest. To know that each day, you can go 100 feet down the street and pick up meat for dinner. To peruse and choose plump orbs of red tomatoes and lovely green chiles that when blended, make a satiating dinner. To sit, each night, and savor crusty bolillos or gently sugared sweet bread with coffee and know you don't have to rush anywhere.
I'm still on Mexican time – and I can't seem to get off of it.