We used to go to Mexico, my boyfriend and I. Only a few months after we started “hanging out”, he suggested we take a trip to Mainland Mex to really get to know each other. He took me to a hollow thumpy beachbreak with a solid left point a few hours’ drive South and I fell in love, both with the surf and with him. The next three years, every time he had saved up enough vacation time and I had a break in my travel schedule, we would escape to the land of banditos and sandy grinding tubes.
He had been visiting that particular beachbreak for nearly ten years, always staying at the same hotel. It is a family owned place and he knew every family member by name. When the adult children wanted to visit the US, he and his friends picked them up from the airport, gave them a place to stay, and showed them around town. He’d spent birthdays, Christmas, and New Years with them. Of course, he had developed a similar affection for the waves.
Then, one trip we decided to try something different. Nicaragua.
(The story from that first trip can be found in the blog post below.)
But the story that follows is that after one more trip to our favorite place in Mexico, we decided to give Nicaragua another try. By now it has been over 3 years and we haven’t been back to Mexico.