Nomadic. Storyteller. Soul searcher. Experience hungry. Music carnivore. Dreamer of better things.
I could see the passenger boats cruising past me, seemingly every hour or two, before disappearing into the ocean blue.
“Amigo, they are going to Isla Mujeres, the island of women. Si, you should go!” The dock was only a mile down the road, so I stuff my pack back with essentials, and head down to the pier to catch the next boat.
The breeze cools the nap of my neck as I sit in the ocean side bar waiting to board. I see the allure of the beach life.
As the boat pushes back from the dock, the ocean water transforms into various shades of azure blue, hypnotizing me as we make our way to the Island. A local recommended renting a golf cart, as it is the easiest way to get around.
It’s paradise, pure and simple. I quickly maneuver the one way streets and get my bearings straight, then hit beach after beach. A drink here, a bite to eat there, you go at your own pace as time stands still here.
Local iguanas become my fixation, as the variety here is endless. I try to count the different types I see, but the incoming lullaby of soft waves breaks my concentration.