some reflections in mazunte
Edit: You can read my follow up to this post aquí.
Today marks the last day of my week and a half solo trip in Mexico. I’m in Mazunte, after previous stops in Oaxaca City and Puerto Escondido, and I’m just feeling a bit… sad. I can’t quite place the reason.
Some of it I can attribute to homesickness, that’s for sure. It takes me longer than some (but much, much less than some marathon travelers I meet along the road), but I do miss my regular life, even though some parts are pretty shitty. I miss my girlfriend, my cat, my guitar, my recording equipment, my skateboard, video games. I don’t miss my stupid corporate job and the amount of time I have to spend looking at screens. But I miss the life that job enables.
But there's something else behind this sadness. I think it is a sense of meaninglessness of solo travel. At times it feels incredibly meaningful. You get to immerse yourself in unfamiliar cultures, try new foods, put yourself out of your comfort zone, meet people from a diverse set of backgrounds, enjoy Montezuma's revenge revenge (last year), and be robbed by the police (this year). But then after that you’ve dropped everything you've learned and it’s a new town, a new hostel, new travelers. There’s just something so fleeting about the friends you make. The connections you make, even when totally sincere and intimate, are fleeting, impermanent, quickly replaceable.
And I think this doesn’t quite hit me until the 3rd or 4th city. It’s just exhausting to meet new people, no matter how friendly, and talk about my life and remake connections over and over. And then suddenly they’re gone… again… and again…
For a long time I’ve had a dream of quitting my job and doing a big 3 or 4 month trip. But I’m beginning to question if I’m built for it. I miss the things that make my life at home meaningful. And I’m exhausted by the genuine connections I make disappearing over and over.