Casa America is coming along nicely. My precious friend Pegge loaned me a beautiful hammock which now graces the terrace. I must learn to use it a bit more. I dream of the day when I realize I can just take a siesta in the hammock for more than 10 minutes.
I am having a surprisingly hard time adjusting to living here again. I haven’t found the sweet spot yet, though it’s coming closer, I can feel it. It will take time to slow down to the pace of village life. In Vallarta, pretty much all I did was work, hoof it all over town doing errands, swim laps in the pool and collapse in by myself in my apartment watching a bit too much TV.
I haven’t talked about it much, but I’ve worked very hard to establish myself as a writer and journalist here. Please don’t be impressed – I’m an absolute fledgling at this. But I have managed to make it here for two and a half years, all the way through to the commencement of my social security this month. Yippee! In theory, now I can work and worry less.
It’s so much harder to relax and enjoy life here than I thought it would be. I’m so goal oriented, regimented in my habits. I want to be in bed at night early with a book, no later than 9:30, and I usually get up at dawn. That was OK in Vallarta, but it doesn’t work very well in Yelapa, where the high season nightlife is in full swing. So far I’ve turned down parties, gatherings, dinners and jam sessions, poker games and art openings. There has been something to do every night since I got here. I did go out two nights, to a Yacht Club disco and an evening of music and dinner at Gloria’s Restaurant.
I feel guilty as heck for turning down all these invitations. I haven’t gotten to see much of these old friends in recent years. But I need to ease into it, the potentially overwhelming whirlpool of Yelapa social life.
In the meantime the view from my terrace is endlessly entertaining.