I packed up my tent in the rain, writing down the e-mail addresses of new friends, and slid down the muddy trail to the road. A man with broad hands flipped my pack onto the roof of his his truck and cinched it down with some orange nylon cord. I stuffed myself into the back with 15 other unshowered passengers, slick from the rain.
At the airport in Villa Hermosa I argued in my pathetic Spanish with a security guard who would not let me pass through with two empty (and apparently very threatening) stainless steel water bottles. I brought them back to baggage check where I learned that checking an extra bag cost 60 US dollars-- nothing like a little frustration to kick my Spanish skills into high gear.
My plane to Oaxaca was delayed five hours- it was New Years Eve and I had planned to spend it with my soul-sister Rebecca, who was flying in from SF for 10 days of eating our way through the country. I met some guys from Denmark on the plane and we agreed to share a taxi to the center of the city. We had to walk a quarter mile in the dark to find this cab driver they had arranged to meet-up with to avoid paying the airport cab tax. I took a photo of the license plate before I got in the car.
Five years ago, Rebecca and I we came up with this magical idea--The Devine Goddess Journey, which, in essence, is the delicious unravelling of our authentic wants, the delightful discovery of our ability to manifest, and the sorting through our bullshit to the core of what's really going on inside. No need to actually go anywhere for this journey, it's an internal party of sorts.
So while we explored Oaxaca, tanned our butts on a nudie beach, and learned to make mole with a little granny, the real excitement of this part of my adventure was in the honest moments with a best friend.
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