I cried tears of joy and relief when we decided to come here. The mere sight on the Pacific Ocean can make me emotional. There's something about the vastness of the water in front of you that's both humbling and liberating. Just the fact that you're seeing past all of South America from here and the first land mass being Antarctica brings... perspective.

San Agustinillo and Mazunte are chill AF. Life's easy here. The beaches are developed enough to make them easy to enjoy, but remain low key and still feel local. They are little tourist hubs, sure, but they pale in comparison to bigger towns close by like Huatulco (based on some online research) and Puerto Escondido (based on a decade-old experience).

Specifically Mazunte did a hard pivot from mass- to eco-tourism a few years ago and started attracting a crowd that fits it in the process as well. The village sports a lot of artisanal shops that sell handmade clothing, ethereal oils and cremes, and energy-cleansing rocks (or whatever). The vibe can be a little vague if you are a super practical person but, even though not fully aligned with my personal preferences, I like the laidback energy that comes with it. Everything feels effortless and informal.

If Mazunte is Puerto Escondido's baby sister, than San Agustinillo is Mazunte's baby brother. We sleep in a full-service 4-star hotel (we deserve it), the beach mixes mid-tier restaurants and bars with half-finished building projects, and between all that there's still fishermen and women working on their crafts as if it's the late 1990s. The edges are a little rough but the result is a town that feels authentic still. I love it.

It's with these local fishermen where you organize a little tour onto the ocean to go whale-, dolphin- and turtle-spotting. It seems to be a good place to do something like that, because the low volume of tourism here makes it all very sustainable and the fishermen operate with a lot of respect and admiration for the ocean themselves. We paid about 4000 pesos, without haggling, for a private tour with the two of us and a captain to take his, I assume actual fishing boat, onto the water and were able to spot all three of these animals quite easily.

We kept our distance where we could, "mas o menos setenta metros distancia" the captain told us, but neither turtle nor whale seemed to much care for our presence. The dolphins on their end were ecstatic to swim with the ship and performed trick after trick like a bunch of show offs. We're typically super weary of tourist activities involving animals but all signs point to this being a good place to have your interactions if you care for them. If I ever want a nice and easy getaway in the future where traveling around isn't a priority anymore, this will be a place to consider.

I've been emotional a couple of times whilst here, too. Perhaps it's only now that I'm starting to feel like I can relax a little. The physical distance from home is easy to achieve, and it helps with breaking free from all the stresses and worries connected to it, but breaking free emotionally has been a challenge. I think I'm slowly getting there though.

One of my most important realizations is that I seem to have cultivated a life I need breaks from. Though most of it happens inside my head, I'm sure, I've always aimed to have a life I continuously enjoy. Not the mess I found myself in for the past few years.

I don't want to blame external factors without personal accountability but I've always seen myself as mentally flexible and having enough endurance to take on most battles life throws at you. For a little too long, I've had to fight a little too many. It wore me down and hollowed me out to a point where all the stretch I've previously had was completely gone. Like a worn out bungee cord that unceremoniously slams you into the rocks below, each time you take a leap. Broken bones heal but they need time. And healing one bone goes faster when you're not continuously breaking more and more while you do so.

Then again, it's maybe wise to not leap yourself from cliffs when you know the cord is faulty and your body is aching so much already. It's almost self-induced at that point and it's difficult to sympathize with foolishness. That's about where the analogy stops. I'm only writing this to synthesize my way through it. And perhaps to one day look back and go "what a moron that guy was, but I feel for him too. If only he could know that salvation was around the corner all along."