Comfort in Discomfort

Many times in my life I’ve come down to Mexico to enjoy an opulent, lavish long weekend of rest and relaxation. Usually in the past, I would stay at extremely expensive (what I would consider bougie) resorts in tourist Mecca’s like Cabo, Cancun, Playa Del Carmen, Puerto Vallarta or Tulum. The places I’m used to staying are the kind of resort where you aren’t even able to sneeze without three staff members immediately handing you a tissue. Over-the-top, luxurious, swanky resorts. A different bikini and matching cover up, matching hat and heels every day kind of vibe.

Currently I am writing this blog from an Airbnb condo I rented for just under 3 weeks in Mazatlan, Mexico. Let me start by saying, this Mexico is not one I’ve experienced ever before. I’m in rustic Mexico…. Authentic Mexico. Troubled Mexico….

Currently Sinaloa Mexico (the “county” where Mazatlan is located) is on Level 4 Do Not Travel list for US Homeland Security. In my defense I didn’t look at that until after I’d booked nonrefundable airfare and accomodations AND I’m used to Mexico being listed as dangerous outside of tourist areas. So while they they say Do Not Travel, there’s an exception asterisk stating that coming specifically to Mazatlan is okay as long as there’s no activity outside of the tourist zone. Upon further research it seems the reason for the Level 4 rating is primarily related to crime and homicide outside of Mazatlan that is related to cartel activity. Big cartel boss guy who got captured this summer apparently lived in Sinaloa and there’s still some unrest associated. Lots of abandoned properties that serve as breeding ground to unsavory activity.

Who knows how long this construction has been haulted for. Seems like a lonnnng time.
In the distance the tall building is mine. Next to it the the other building is abandoned. And next to that is rubble from a crumbling building or perhaps construction that started and then rotted. Note the barbed wire. Lots of that here.

Well this may be the reason why I am the only gringa here. Haven’t seen a single white person besides myself in 4 days that I’ve been here now. And the city looks like it hasn’t had any tourism in a long while. Most of the buildings are dilapidated, falling apart, halted construction, abandoned. In many ways it feels like a zombie apocalypse wasteland. It’s sad because this area is full of BEAUTIFUL buildings that I can tell were once bustling with tourism and beauty. But now they are all rotting.

There’s zero comfort in walking off the tourist boardwalk areas for me. And I have an early dinner and retreat to my condo before dark. People stare at me here like I’m wearing a meat suit. It’s extremely uncomfortable…. But as long as I stick to the boardwalk and don’t stay out after dark, I feel perfectly safe. “SAFE” but uncomfortable. My condo is in a very beautiful and secure building. The most sought after residential building in Mazatlan, actually! And it’s right on the boardwalk so easy for me to pop out and be to my safe area for moving around the city.

I knew prior to coming here that this was going to be a different experience than what I’m used to. I subconsciously think I did this on purpose. This trip is clearly training wheels for my new life.

That’s the takeaway here folks. THE LESSON. Why am I still here? Why haven’t I left for a swanky resort? Why stay someplace I’m uncomfortable? Because! The skill I’m supposed to be developing and practicing right now in my life is… being comfortable when I’m uncomfortable.

I have 6+ months of Southeast Asia travel ahead of me with plans to visit Thailand, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Sri Lanka and India. I can most certainly count on feeling uncomfortable throughout this journey. Even though I know I’ll be safe (safe is different from comfortable) I know that it’s going to be challenging. Challenging in the moments where I feel like everyone is staring at me. In the moments where I can’t find a restaurant that feels comfortable for me to dine alone in. Challenging when I can’t read a menu. Or communicate. Or find my way. Challenging when I’m lost. Tired. Hungry. Trying to do laundry. All the small things that we take for granted in the traditional life of “American girl” become so challenging and uncomfortable to do when in another country. When alone in the world.

After all. I am alone. A lone. And so, here in Mexico. I practice. Being uncomfortable. 💖

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