Finding Peace in La Paz
We just got back from a lovely meal with fellow Montanans who live here in La Paz. (I know: our recent posts make it like Montanans are rapidly colonizing Baja California). Josh Schroeder and his wife, Nieves, welcomed us into their home., and made us prawns, pasta and plenty of wine. We ate with his sister, mom and grandpa, who are down visiting. They commiserated over our losses, and shared some of their own more poignant and meaningful loss of a loved one. We laughed, broke some glasses, and heard stories of Josh and Rob catching exorbitant numbers of giant trout in Alaska.
Many folks have commented on how positive we’ve been after the rocky start to our voyage, including Josh, and his mom, Joyce. It made me realize a couple of things:
1) I haven’t shared the fact that Rob and I had many rough spots the past week. One of us gets cranky or frustrated or sad or pissed off at the situation at least once a day.
2) What brings us back from the low spots are people like the Schroeders, as well as of our other friends, near and far.
It does suck to get robbed, not because of the stuff that disappears, but because it’s an insult. It makes us feel dumb, naive, played, helpless. In fact, my morning today was one of my lowest spots yet, as I oscillated between clicking “buy now” on many of the items we just lost versus wanting to burn half the remaining 25 pounds of stuff I still have (it’s true: I packed too many clothes). I felt like La Paz and I will just never get along, as if we’re star-crossed lovers that can’t find a groove.
During the low points, I really miss my sister, and the girlfriends who know me inside and out. I wonder how, exactly, I think I can live without them for months on end. But then, hours later, I’ve found that total strangers feel almost as close as the family I ached for earlier. I’ve found that La Paz is peaceful at night, with bright stars overhead and a cool breeze that laughs away my feelings of fated doom and gloom.
If I haven’t portrayed the frustrations and pain, it’s because the low points are often overshadowed by the view from the high points. The voids fill. The troughs crest. All waves recede…and roll right on back in again.
