*A little bit late in posting-apologies*
I speak often of soul trips and the fact that often, I go away not knowing how much I need that tiny piece of peace for my soul. This weekend wasn’t like that. I knew I needed it as soon as the school doors shut on Friday, and selfishly taking this time for myself brought me right back.
Three day weekends happen often in Mexico- a beautiful side effect of living in such a wonderful country. This doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its usual stresses though. Being a teacher, I often find things are on top of me before I’ve realised it and that a little soul break does wonders for not only my mental health, but also my teaching. Without boring you all with the ridiculous amount I have going on, I will, instead, just share my musings over this particular trip.
Winding along dusty roads, surrounded by cacti and long ass fields, I got my sense of peace back. There’s a thing about being a teacher; there is a thing that you willingly give up. This ‘thing’, as I don’t know what to call it, is the little bit of you that finds peace at the end of the day. When you teach, you tend to lay in bed at night worrying about other people’s children and whether someone has a costume ready for the play and will that kid pass her exams and so on and so forth. Bus journeys are a great way to calm all of that; I stared out at the road, listened to music, read my book- just simply was.
Guanajuato is probably one of my favourite places I have been to so far. It’s a cornucopia of strange holes in the wall and twisting, turning streets with colourful houses. The first thing I do whenever I go anywhere is walk. I get deliberately lost. And I got so lost in Guanajuato. I stumbled upon performers and markets and side streets. I walked so far that I wasn’t exactly sure how to get back to my hostel and had to ask a Mexican family for directions in horribly broken Spanish.
There’s something freeing about being lost and unsure. When I teach, I always know where I am going, what I’m doing, what my kids are learning. Travel lets me escape that. I spent the evening in Guanajuato in an Italian restaurant with a gorgeous family that were staying in my hostel. I attempted to communicate in horrible Spanish and worse hand gestures; they laughed at me and encouraged me whilst trying to speak in equally as broken English. We sat on the steps of the lit church and watched the street performers. In the morning, I wandered round more markets, read my book in silence and people watched.
I guess I could tell you all the things I saw or all the ins and outs of my time wandering around this beautiful place for the weekend. But, that wouldn’t do it justice and isn’t necessarily the point of this post. You see, getting lost doesn’t always mean direction. Sometimes it’s in a broken conversation or a moment of solitude. I guess the point is that sometimes you have to get a little lost to find a little peace.