Feb 23, 2026 Monologue

Mexico, a retrospective

A look at a country I like a lot, but no longer love. And "it's not you, it's me" I want to tell it, if countries had ears to hear it. Because it really is me and who I am today. But, who knows, another 10 years might do wonders.

Once every two years. That's how often we venture "a little further from home." Which means anything outside of Europe, so far. If getting somewhere is expensive in either time, money, or both, we try to make the spending worth it. We like to stay as long as cash and calendar allow for it. Typically, for us, that's about a month-ish. We can go longer, perhaps we see more things then, but we have no need for it, see no reason for it, have no urge for it. A month. In a land that "doesn't look the same as where we're from" is what we like.

Two years ago, in 2024, this was Thailand. Oh wonderful, hot, humid, sticky though weirdly refreshing, but mostly mesmerizing Thailand. How much we've missed you. How much we missed traveling to places as far from home as you. A pandemic second, but a simple life supported by too much work and too little income first, kept us from roaming our beautiful planet for far too long. A privilege I previously might've taken for granted a little too much, still. Now a luxury I am grateful to being able to afford. With open ears and watchful eyes I allow my senses to be tickled and my brain to form connections in ways I was unable to whilst younger.

It's 2026 and we're less excited about the world now. It always was a difficult place to love and appreciate, you had to really look for it, but the places you can look in have diminished rather quickly. Corners once familiar now feel distant and unsettling. As if the teddy bear in the corner of your bedroom turned out to be a hidden camera after all, even though you asked and they explicitly told you it wasn't. Distrust is the result. It's difficult to find some grounding these days. Though perhaps you're flailing in the wind because you failed to close the window. It's time to close that window.

We're on our way to Mexico. Also a place we both visited before. Also while still under the impression that "going there just to see what's up" was enough spiritual depth to allow for connecting with a place. Or maybe not even connecting with it, perhaps just seeing it. Actually seeing it, is what the goal should be. Who knows, it might teach you a thing or two about yourself, about the world, how you fit in it (if at all.)

For our Thailand trip I wondered "What is our goal on this trip? Are we looking for adventure, or do we want to unplug? Perhaps a combination?" And I concluded "it's always a combination." I still don't disagree now. Mexico was definitely a combination again. Though the aim wasn't as much to go on an adventure as it was to just go away for a bit. Heck, there were times when I wasn't even that excited about going back to Mexico. I just wanted to not be home for a bit, mostly. Grew so tired of it and the life I had there. Anything to break free from the patterns, the responsibilities, the people.

With physical distance also comes mental distance. Mental clarity, I should say. It both literally and figuratively provides perspective. I like that this is an option for us humans. Although I dislike it requires flying halfway across the globe to achieve it. A timezone or two between you and your troubles is what separates you properly. Even though it looks escapist, and probably is, to some extent, it really works. It truly does.

I read those words about Thailand and I cry a little (quietly, and only inside, okay) each time I reach the ending still. It might not be true for other people but for me, this is one of the most potent pieces of writing I've ever done. The feeling of that trip captured so well, in so few words. A perfect registration. The Mexico trip will not get such a treatment. Not because the country doesn't deserve it. You can tell from my photography how rich in culture and vibrant the country is. At least I hope you can. But why I can't bring ode to it, as I did with Thailand, is for my lack of positive vibrations. I went there broken and I returned recovered. But not necessarily healed.

My vibe is better. If you can't tell then at least I can. I did embrace the shadows, slow down, let loose, was patient. And still I am. My baseline is more solid again. Better in tune with my own wishes and desires. Less subject to energy-stealing than I was in my fragmented, overworked, close-to-burned-out, always on edge, quite literally in survival-mode, state. The perspective helped me see the essence of myself, and I protect that now.

So Mexico did its job. It revealed itself to us in ways I didn't dare dream of in advance. In Mexico City I struggled with my lens-choice while getting adjusted to the new rhythm there. The country felt familiar but not the same. A good sign, for what would turn out to be a good trip.

I would write about Oaxaca, both the city and our adventures there, as well as its stunning 'Costa' and what is has to offer after we decided last minute to not follow intellect but intuition instead. I would improve my Spanish skills until they were almost good enough for me to speak with local toddlers. I would revisit Puerto Escondido, a place I scrapped from our initial itinerary because I didn't care for it too much, and would appreciate 'La Punta' for its electrifying energy. Mérida would be neglected again, but Chichén Itzá finally got a chance for redemption (I somehow skipped it on the last journey.) Playa del Carmen was a hell hole again, but we managed to make it work. And Isla Mujeres I neglected to write about so far.

And perhaps I never will, properly. A memory once sweet of it has been soured by this last visit. Beautiful? Of course. One of the best beaches out there. Crowded? More than we expected. Exciting? Not really. Thankfully our accommodation, as well as local watering hole proved to be fine bases to spend our last few days of this trip. "What do you think of the island and would you ever go back here?" someone asked me. "I don't dislike it and no, I will probably never go back," I answered.

All my images are in my online archive, per usual. All the black and white ones worth speaking of are below. An illogical choice, black and white, for a country so rich with color. And interesting precisely for it. A reduction to shapes, light and subjects. A look at the fabrics of the country as experience by us in our 27-day voyage, unpolluted by the beauty of its paint.