words & art by shé

Tag: expat in Mexico

  • El Mirador

    The viewpoint. It can be different. Fact: The Bod does not like high heat and humidity. Fact: It’s been 90°F at night in the boatyard. Fact: Dry-docked Habibi retains the day’s temperature despite two fans and an air purifier. Fact: A different perspective from the industrial/red light district in which I’ve resided for eleven months…

  • Frightening & Magical

    “There’s something frightening, and magical, about being on the ocean, moving between the heavens and the earth, knowing that you can encounter anything on your journey.” —Lynne Cox, Grayson: a Memoir Anxiety attacked recently, and I finally figured out (it’s hard to think when she’s screaming) that it’s been a year since I left Topolobampo,…

  • Swim Friend

    “Everything in the universe is within you. Ask all from yourself.” —Rumi It was a whale. Beneath me and to the right, similar to where the dolphin had been tracking me in April. I was on my fifth length, speaking a healing mantra as I swam out into the Gulf of California. A small whale,…

  • Unleashed

    The Little Yellow Dog Gang cares not a wit for leash laws. No collars, no microchips, no fixed address, but heaps of street smarts. Yes, I’ve named them:—Valiente, the leader, male, yellow fur, floppy ears, joyful, the smallest—Beatrice, the biggest, barrel-shaped, dark brown, female, ready to rumble—Emma, shy, fine-boned, black, bat ears, female, youngest All…

  • Adopted

    “Love purifies. Suffering never purified anybody; suffering merely intensifies the self-directed drives within us. Any act of love, however—no matter how small—lessens anxiety’s grip, gives us a taste of tomorrow, and eases the yoke of our fears. Love, unlike virtue, is not its own reward. The reward of love is peace of mind, and peace…

  • Benevolence

    Three years in México and the language still gets away from me. To be fair, I’ve had huge misunderstandings with people in English; Spanish simply adds spice. Yesterday, slogging back from provisioning, towing the wagon, the gatekeeper at the athletic field asked, “¿Se vende?” The fatigued interpreter in my brain translated this to “What did…

  • Epiphany

    Tuesday night, about 8 o’clock, one of the so-called security guards knocked on Habibi’s hull. He’s a big beefy guy whom I greet as I greet everyone: friendly, but not social. I was already in bed, lights out, and did not answer. I’m in an isolated part of the boatyard and my neighbors were gone.…

  • Surfing Sexism

    “It took me a year, and I’m a man,” said the ovary-deprived human. He’s surprised that I am refinishing Habibi’s hull alone. “Maybe it took you a year because you’re a man,” I don’t say because I am polite. Turns out I’ve just bought a flexible sander from a member of the penis gallery, and I am…

  • Lagniappe

    The storm blew me past the busy port of Guaymas, where I’d intended to anchor and check out boatyards, and then San Carlos, several miles north. Next thing I knew I was passing an island in the dark, in high chop and higher winds—30 knots with stronger gusts. The navigational system shows tankers in the…

  • On the Move

    Sometimes you want to do something that scares the feces right out of you. All the meditation in the world cannot help Anxiety, who has taken up residence on your left shoulder and is screaming in your ear. You can barely remember what Calm felt like, and yet you really want to do this thing…