There is so much to say about Zihuatanejo that I won't say anything now. Later, Zach and I will upload some photos and perhaps we'll narrate our travels with these. We had a wonderful excursion though, and across our six flights, I became attached to Bill Bryson, the hilarious, oddly comforting travel writer and ex-patriot.
At about day three in Zihuatanejo, I decided that it was time to change this situation at the house. Since AmeriCorps doesn't pay me a thing until mid November, I am getting a second evening and weekend job which will begin as soon as any shop, pub, or coffee joint asks me on. Fortified by my new "tan" and the purple earrings from my inlaws, I will do some serious job hunting down Broadway street tomorrow morning. Zach also has a suitable prospect, about which I am not at liberty to disclose any details.
The journey home from Mexico was ambitious all by itself. We stopped in LA, were whisked off to IN'N'Out by Zach's brother Kurtis, where Z and I indulged ourselves with double cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes, the only part absent was the meat. Apparently I was starving because I thought our pasty buns and melted cheese tasty but Zach informed me otherwise. Then, after an all too brief period of catching up with Kurtis, we flew to Portland. In Portland, our hippie friend who went to school with Zach in Boston, picked us up and drove us to an all night crunchy coffee shop. After grilled cheese and grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and loads of gossip, the three of us explored downtown Portland on foot. I was mesmerized by the truly countless coffee shops, the abundant verdure, and one Episcopalian church. This church, called Trinity just like our favorite one in Boston, was spread out like a quad of a campus with two side wings extended like arms in a welcoming posture. Something about the layout of the church moved my mystically inclined self. Vanessa told us that the church hosts yoga and Buddhist spirituality classes. I'm not one that is moved by the open, fluid concept of a "spiritualness" that counteridentifies with organized religion and all things conventional. I think most of that is vacuous. But I stand in quiet wonder at mystics, I am compelled by Buddhist thought, and I believe meditation to be of great value, be it through yoga, taize, or prayer. Suffice it to say, the church impacted me, and I would love to walk there one early Thursday morning and say a solitary common prayer with a priest. I believe Portland is the US city for us.
Despite my love for Portland, it was a little less that wonderful spending the hours from 3:00 to 6:30 this morning on the airport floor. Fortunately, there were soft chairs and the security announcements only came on every 10 minutes. We even had about 20 minutes of quality cuddling- I'm sure to the disgust of the other airport night dwellers.
We finally arrived home late this morning to be greeting by my two most wonderful, most favorite dogs, Wesley and Seattle. If anything, I am grateful this day for friends and family who drive 20 miles to the airport to eat fast food with you, airport cuddles, churches that stay in your mind all day, and dogs that celebrate your return no matter how short your jaunt.