Water

Water has the craziest impact upon me. (And no, I am not still harping on about my near-death experience.) The last week I have been travelling with my German warrior princess Sinah. We have been blessed to have had the opportunity to visit a couple of outrageously aesthetically pleasing places! The first being Tulum and the second, Laguna Bacalar.

Tulum is all white sand, turquoise water and absolutely ZERO activity. After god knows how long of strenous partying, the two of us had serious downtime chillaxing by reading novels in hammocks for five days. Two nights were spent in cabanas set deep in the white sand and two in hammocks under the stars. Both sound more romantic and dreamy than they actually are. In actual fact, each morning both myself and Sinah would wake up with our faces caked in sand. It was so windy! And the cabanas were too hot and sweaty and the hammocks too cold and windy! My last night in Tulum in particular was a very difficult night´s sleep... Tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, cursing the wind, sand blowing in my ears, a multitude of bugs buzzing all around me. It all came to a crux when I heard my head wail ¨I wanna be back home!¨ Right about then was the moment I told myself to positively STFU and took 30seconds to contextualise myself and the fact I was sleeping in a breezy hammock, between two palms, on a white beach on the Caribbean coast, in Mexico, to the sound of the waves crashing, underneath the infinity of stars in the sky. I quickly silenced my whiny thoughts and fell in to a deep, pleasant sleep...

We also went to visit the ruins of Tulum (more ruins!!!) which are impressive but mostly (to me) for their unbelievable location, right up high on a hill with spectacular views of the diamond-sapphire ocean! These Mayans were the clever/lucky bastards.

And after Tulum Sinah and I headed to Chetumal to get to Laguna Bacalar, easily the most stunning lake I have ever witnessed. Freshwater the same colour as the Carribean ocean and with a white sand floor, the lake is calming, serene and peaceful. We met some Mexicans who took us for a ride to visit a particular side of the lagoon where there are no people (and DEFINITELY no tourists) and we paid 25pesos each for a Kayak between two. Sinah and I paddled away over the expanse of the lake... and then found a paradise within a paradise in the form of the lagoon´s on cenote. A kind of sinkpool where we can see the rock formations clearly in the water and swam with fishes. My words do the experience no justice but today was one of my lasting memories of Mexico I can foresee already.

Laguna Bacalar

Feeling utterly content, instead of heading to Belize straight away I have decided to go back to the Palenque jungles. I am not ready to leave this marvel of a country that is Mexico!

Water calms me.

Love x

A Dream

I had a dream that I was on an island in the Caribbean ocean where the sand is white like powdered cocaine, the water is crystalline turquoise and shallow for miles and I´m with the best company I could possibly be in. This lasted maybe 6 days and then I woke up on a bus leaving the island and realised that it was actually all true. The island is called Isla Mujeres (Women Island), the location is just off the Caribbean coast of Mexico by Cancun and the company were my friends Julio, Sinah and Tyler (and a bunch of other awesome people I met.)

Sweaty, bustling Merida failed to impress much save for the pleasant free entertainment one evening in the Santa Lucia plaza there where they were having a Celebration of Maya. Here, Julio and myself were able to walk around the local, pristine University and check out the photography exhibition. After which we sat amongst the local people of Merida as a Mexican woman with a powerful voice sang traditional songs, backed up with her own band to the pleased crowd made up of both the old and young. It was really great and I wondered how often Mexican cities have this kind of free family entertainment on a weekday evening in comparison to cities of the UK.

So after only a couple of nights there we made our way to Cancun via a day trip to Chichen Itza, one of the most impressive of Maya ruin sites. This, having been my (fifth?) site of ancient ruins was still able to leave me in a state of awe - so long as I ignored the hundred tour groups littering my view. Julio and myself took great delight in observing the many iguanas and monitor lizards that had free reign over the pyramids and tried hard to imagine an ancient civilisation clambering up the high, solid structures and playing games in their ball court. It was a really fun day and I realised that maybe such wonders can be better when experiencing them with a friend. (Whereas usually I insist upon such adventures being a solely personal experience.)

We then landed in Cancun, a place which made my stomach physically sick. An absurdly long stretch of ostentatious resort upon resort lining the beach, each trying to outdo the other. American dollars being poured in to this part of the Yucatan, only to go straight back to the International hotel chains. After seeing how the rest of Mexico lives in my last 3 months, I felt utterly uncomfortable as did Julio. And I enjoyed declaring rather loudly how disgusted I was by the disparity of rich and poor in the country, fuelled by apathetic Westerners to the other patrons of my tour bus who were being consecutively dropped off at their respective Hiltons, Meridians and JW Marriots.

Isla Mujeres

Julio and I found a humble hostel to stay in in the centre of town and spent the evening drinking Don Simon above the rooftop terrace with a complete view of Cancun. Upon witnessing the myriad of McDonalds´golden arches arrogantly rising above the city, we resolved to leave Cancun the very next morning for Isla Mujeres where I knew my two good friends, Sinah and Tyler (the wonderful people I had met and who had subsequently looked after me after my accident) from Puerto Escondido.

Reunion with Sinah & Tyler!

So the next day (Saturday 24th April), Julio and I took something of a party boat across the Caribbean sea to Isla Mujeres. This was easily one of the most exciting boat journies of my life! Turquoise waters seen only in postcards and brochures, dolphins swimming with the boat, live music, windswept hair and above all, wonderful company. Landing in Isla, we were both taken aback by the simple beauty of the island.

And here we spent the next 6 days... Swimming in our own part of the ocean, walking along the beach, EATING GREAT FOOD, partying with Sinah (who had got a job in a bar there for the past month) and Tyler and also another couple whom we met from the states, Harlen and Aimee. Two absolute kindred spirits on vacation and with warm hearts and open minds. We all gelled together so smoothly and had a really great time together. Julio and I spent every day together and I feel blessed by his beautiful albeit short friendship. From Austin in Texas, he would not stop HARPING ON about how Austin is a sample of heaven. He also eats phenomenal amounts and is extremely passionate about his food; mealtimes with him were truly an artform. I had so much fun dancing with, eating with, swimming with, swearing at and teasing him, even if I never see him again I will (somehow?!) consider him a friend for life. Saying goodbye to Isla and Julio was very difficult and even now I am in Tulum, arguably Mexico´s best beach, I am still feeling quite tender for both. Isla Mujeres was one of my favourite dreams.

But now here Sinah and I are in Tulum! The same kind of beach as Isla but windier so more waves but also emptier! And sleeping in a cabana set deep in the sand. It is very beautiful and surreal and we are having a lovely, girly time together... Look forward to more days of fun with my German princess.

Peace n that

xxxx

The coolest place in the world

...is without a doubt El Panchan, Palenque. So for the past 6 days I have been living in the jungle in Palenque, Chiapas. It is absolutely insanely COOL. Here I went to see the Agua Azul waterfalls. Agua Azul is one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Imgaine incredibly high, cascading waterfalls with turquoise see-through water and caramel, smooth rocks which the water is at once gliding and hurtling over. I had to keep pinching myself to believe it was real. It is like something only witnessed in an animated disney film. Butterflies in the jungle and birds swooping in and out of the water. It doesn´t look real. It was another Avatar moment. I visited twice to swim in the purifying, fresh waters. It`s awesome power terrified me as I was reminded of my frenemy the Pacific Ocean, however at the same time it was intimately calming and meditative.

Misol-Ha waterfall

I also went to see the Ancient Maya pyramids and temples, ruins also set rather surreally in the middle of the dense Palenque jungle. Large, impressive and exhausting to climb it was mind-blowing to wonder how an ancient civilisation lived there, let alone built it with no modern construction technologies of our own. Having seen several Maya ruin sites now, the most exciting thing about these ones in particular was the setting. Wild, lush, colourful, overpowering jungle. At once scary and beautiful.

Down the road from the Palenque ruins is an area called El Panchan, described by Lonely Planet as a "Legendary travellers` hangout" but it is so much more than this. Swarmed with hippie travellers and residents, the place is magical. I was staying in a wooden cabana deep in the jungle and awoke each morning faced with exotic, wild and gigantic jungle plants with huge, cartoon-like leaves that made me miniature. And at night, we would all be kept up by the extraordinary huffing and puffing of the jungle´s attention-seeking howler monkeys who would sit very close to our cabanas and ensure us a very disturbed sleep. In fact, the entire jungle pulsates with a raw spiritual energy and I couldn`t help but look at everything in close detail. Caterpillars, hibiscus flowers, tightly twisted tree trunks, an immaculately formed cocoon, marching ants carrying leaves to build their nest, shiny berries, dangerous thorns, large but unthreatening tarantulas. Each day, my eclectic group of friends that I met there and I trekked around the jungle on slow, attentative adventures and discovered and frolicked in waterfalls. I was always hesitant to climb them, panicked by the strength of water but with patience and very deliberate movements I was able to conquer and climb near the top where fresh, clean water would pour over the top of the edge and purify and cleanse me. And wherever you walk in El Panchan, people would be jamming, playing their live music together with friends and strangers and just chilling and enjoying the good life amidst their beautiful surroundings every day.

Each night in El Panchan, we would sit in one of the open-air restaurants there - usually Don Mucho´s - and listen to awesome live music. The bands played an eclectic mix, sometimes from Argentina, sometimes son Cuba and sometimes jungle music which involved the lead musician carefully selecting from one of about fifteen different small wind instruments and making various animal sounds. Here my friends and I would sit and listen to the original music and drink red wine as locals and travellers danced salsa together seamlessly. And everyone I met in El Panchan was so interesting! I met a beautiful, delicate flower from Finland by the name of Karolina. She is a gorgeous, petite, dreaded and very talented artesan who has spent the last seven years travelling, 3 and a half of those in Central America, getting by on limited money but selling her handicrafts. Karolina is intensely charming and sweet and has a certain vibe that drawns in the people she meets and makes us want to protect her. She is also four months pregnant, which at first suprised and probably disconcerted me somewhat but when I saw the incredibly conditions she was bringing her unborn child in to I had no question in my mind that travelling was the right thing for her and her `Elfa`. Everyday her fairy was surrounded by original live music, organic nature and animal sounds and fresh, clean water as she ensured she swam in a waterfall each day. I wish them the best.

A wonderful adventurer named Mercedes from Texas was the first girl I met in El Panchan actually and not only did she go out of her way to make me feel comfortable, she encouraged and supported me during my waterfall climbing ordeal to ensure I got over my trauma. Unbelievably sweet for someone I don`t even know. I also spent time with a delightful Finish/Portugese newly married couple, Vera and Rico, who were very sweet, funny and down-to-earth and had met in London. Being in their company was extremely pleasant and you could feel their love. Strangely I bumped in to a French friend too, Romain who I had met in Puerto Escondido and who had been there in Mazunte when I had my accident. That was amazing and he strongly expressed his relief to see me well and healthy and walking again. Funnily enough I met many other people who had heard about or eye-witnessed themselves my accident and they would swarm me with marvel and a million questions to try understand my experience. I met a fascinating and beautiful girl/jungle creature, originally from Switzerland but who had been living in Mexico for 2 years names Jess. To talk to, I thought she was nearly thirty. An old soul, she talked to me about my accident in a spiritually mature way and I was fixated. She also crawled and ran and smoothed her way through the jungle like it was second nature. A real-life Mowgli. I couldn´t believe it when she revealed to me she was only twenty-one but she admitted she feels like she has always felt she has lived on this planet for centuries. My closest friend in El Panchan was Julio, a Mexican-Venezuelan from Texas who has been doing various voluntary work in Guatemala but is now on a roots-discovering trip in Mexico, he has an acute appreciation for live latin music and would beam ear to ear all night every night (save for when his head was on the table as a result of too much tequila consumption) and we left El Panchan together to discover the Carribean coast.

I could not have had a more enjoyable time in El Panchan and I already think about going back one day. There was a newly started intentional community there called Maya Buda and one day, Karolina, Julio and myself dropped by to see what it was all about and we all got on so well with the residents that we visited a nearby waterfall together. I could easily see myself living there for a little while. It was very hard for us to leave but now here Julio and myself are, making a quick city break in sweaty, hustling Merida on our way to the Caribbean coast. It feels very inner city typical Mexico here but today we are visiting nearby natural cenotes, sink holes that are formed under caves.

Leaving you in love and peace,
Anetta xxx

Mexico´s rootz

San Juan Chamula market day

SO yesterday I went to visit two Indigenous villages outside San Cristobal; San Juan Chamula and Zinacantan. It was one of my most interesting days in Mexico yet. As I arrived in San Juan Chamula the first thing I noticed were the vans of Coca-Cola parked near the entrance. Very indigenous, I thought suspiciously. And then walking around, I saw lots of Indigenous people (Indigenas they are respectfully called here) sitting around all drinking Coca-Cola or some other big brand fizzy drink. I later discovered that these people drink the carbonated sodas so as to BURP better so they can burp out any evil spirits and purify themselves! They apparently used to use a local-made fizzy drink made from maize (a cornerstone of their lives, they even believe people are made from it) but with the introduction of Coca-cola which was cheaper, easier and tastier, they switched. I felt somewhat disturbed by this but it was later explained to me that the people of Chamula´s existence as an autonomous community is dependent on the fact that they are able to coopt modernity in to their traditional ways of life, without sacrificing their beliefs. This is why they allow tourists in to their self-governed municipality, to make money from them.

Both San Juan Chamula and Zinacantan are made up of the Indigenous Tzotzil people, who descend directly from the ancient Maya people. The Chamulan people in particularly were very interesting to me. Their way of life is exemplary in many ways. The community is run as a big family organism with all the work shared amongst the people who work as a cooperative. Family comes first. And next is their religion. They can easily be considered Catholics as they have what appears to be crucifixs adorning the town, they pray in a church and they have Christian saints. However whilst they may call themselves Catholics, their concept of Christianity is somewhat skewed. Their crucifix with its rounded ends represent past, present and future. And whilst Christianity and modern day religions are focused on the past, What God Did, What Jesus Said etc, Mayan religion and indeed the religion of these Indigenous is focused on the present and future. Agriculture and family. They have several gods, not just one. And instead of preaching, the religious leaders simply make offerings for the future of the towns. Conceptually these people´s religion is very different from Catholicism. They could not see the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit as the Holy Trinity or God. If they saw a group of trees and you told them it was a forest they would not understand, they would call it trees. Because there is no forest without the trees. When the Spaniards invaded and attempted to convert these Mayan people, to me, all it seems that they were able to do was infiltrate the language of the Mayan religion so it coopts Biblical names. They pray to the Sun, not to Jesus and yet they call the sun Jesus! They believe the dead ALL go to the underworld and yet the Catholics took Underworld to mean Hell (as distinct from Heaven) and so they call the Mayan underworld ´Hell´ and now it seems the Mayans have the same Christian concepts of death. And they pray in the church because it is simply a communal area where they can worship. The Material life is not important to the Mayans, how things look or what things are called. These are superficial labels and appearances. They understand that life is deeper than this and it is what you think and know and do.

Making tortillas

The church in San Juan Chamula was incredible. Instead of pews, they had pine needles carpeting the floor to provide padding for the kneeling people. The Chamulan people were there praying on their knees in their familial groups, lighting hundreds of candles (their offering to the Gods), chanting in their archaic Tzotzil prayer language and drinking Coke/ Fanta/ Sprite and burping out their sins. Truly surreal! The church too, is a harsh mix of Catholic relics and saints combined with vivid colourful Mexican decor and a potent smell of burning incense. I also saw a couple of men wearing the traditional thick, furry, black wool poncho (distinct only of the San Juan Chamulan people) tidying up the mess of left over coke bottle caps and candle wax. I assumed they were the church´s cleaners however was soon corrected and told they are the highest religious leaders in the town, chosen for their family, religious and work commitments and value. I was very surprised by this and could not imagine a Christian, Jewish or Muslim religious leader cleaning up after his worshipping people.

The San Juan Chamulan people are also astute in their business and (to a lesser degree their political) acumen. As I wondered out of the church I was approached by two different women attempting to sell me handicrafts, a norm here in Chiapàs state. After I purchased a few cheap bracelets from one she then asked for another 5 pesos for a tortilla. The second woman asked me for the same price if I wished to take a photo of her daughter. They know how susceptible us embarrassing Westerners are to an opportunity to take a photo of some of the ¨culture¨ we are experiencing. And covering the roof of the local Community political building were egg shells and other bits of rubbish. Apparently San Juan Chamula had had an election on Sunday and 40,000 of the 50,000 inhabitants had turned out at the incredibly large market square to elect their latest leader. This is done by parading the candidates on the balcony of the building and letting the people applaud for their choice. However when they are not so keen on a particular candidate they throw things, eggs being the item of choice apparently.

Finally, I wanted to take a million photos of the strange, colourful people and their customs as I encountered yesterday in San Juan Chamula but also in Zinacantan where the men traditionally wear hot pink tunics, not unlike those seen adorning the tacky/wealthy in London´s clubs in the West End. However they believe that if you take photos of them, you are stealing some of their spirit. Which, I have to say there is potentially much truth in. After all the best memories are remembered. And for too many tourists, photos are simply proof and validation of their trips. And why should someone be allowed to feel more of a cultured individual by taking a photo of someone else who IS a more cultured individual? Besides that, it is incredibly disrespectful to treat these people as spectacles...

My couchsurfer host, Julio Olvera

So that was my day, much food for mine thought. Exploring Malaysia´s Orang Asli next on my agenda? Potentially. Today I had my last Spanish classes as tomorrow I am off to Palenque for more Maya ruins but more incredible than any I´ve seen before as these are deep set in the ferociously lush Mexican jungle! But for now I shall leave you with the Three principles (LIES) of Mexicans (men, that is):

1. I will pay you back tomorrow, I promise!
2. This is the last drink!
3. I only want to put the ¨end¨ in, that´s all!

These were taught to me by the gallant gentlemen Julio and Marco of San Cristobal. Chido!

xxx

Back to Mexico in San Cristobal de las Casas

View over San Cristobal de las Casas

My entire travelling trip thus far, peeps I be meeting always harp on about San Cristobal. For the past five days I´ve been discovering why. A charming cobbled-streeted town with many European influences and yet the largest number of indigenous Mexicans in any city, set in the middle of the mountains of Chiapas, San Cristobal is gorgeous. Once again I have stayed in a place longer than expected as I have chosen to take a couple of Spanish classes here to brush up on my slowly expanding vocabulary and to even begin to get some grip on my grammar.

San Cristobal streets in the evening

After nearly a month along the Oaxacan coast, I had become something of a well, tramp. It took me a day to adjust to civilisation again. I walked around my hostel barefoot, unwashed, very brown and wearing little. It soon became clear that San Cristobal is a far too proper place for this behaviour of the wild. Litered with great cafes, restaurants and bars... Teeming with foreign residents (mainly French and Italian) but this European bourgeoisie is mixed in with fiercely independent Indigenous communities, all with strong identities. Walking around this city is so easy, with artesan markets and handsome churches everywhere. And wherever you walk part of the experience is being approached by Indigenous women selling handicrafts for shockingly cheap prices. Alongside this are adorable children with sad eyes selling chewing gum and various other artefacts. I struggle to handle this. My Mexican friend, Julio, a wonderful San Cristobal resident and my personal tour guide and companion here tells me not to buy from the children as it encourages their parents´ exploitation of them.

We go often to a bar here called Revolucion! that seems to have a different incredible live band playing every night. Usually Cuban or reggae influenced. I love it and want to import more of this music in to London! It is a Zapatista sympathisers bar and it is not uncommon for San Cristobal. The Zapatista influence can be seen everywhere. A slight smell of tension in the air and in the mainly patronised by Indigenous Mexicans cantina we visited for our hangover lunch on Sunday, grafittied in the bathrooms was written ´Fuck of Mestizos´, a sentiment that Julio tells me is not unheard of in Chiapas.

Sumidero Canyon

Today I visited the Sumidero Canyon, recently classified one of the wonders of the world. It was lovely, a long boat ride along the huge green river alongside vicious crocodiles and amongst the awesome Canyon walls. Really breathtaking and a wonder for sure. Tomorrow I am discovering more about the local indigenous villages. A real interest for me, particularly since I visited the local centre for Indigenous studies, Na Bolom - a museum-research centre.

Much running abouts with my video camera this week!

Laterzzzz innit
xxxxx

I effing love Mexico

My bed

And I have known this all along but Zipolite just hammered this home for me! After making peace with Mazunte I continued on with my travels and went to the next Oaxacan beach, Zipolite. Zipolite is quite sceney and known for its hippies, raves and nudity. I always thought I was a fairly liberal person but seeing numerous wangs of varied description dangling all over a beach, for me, is quite undesirable. Shocked by the sight at first, I felt a little bit sick. However after some time you become quite immune to the goolies littering the beach and particularly because the majority of naked bodies strolling about belonged to the 50+, I began to think GOOD ON THEM! Indeed on my last day, I joined the masses albeit on a secluded part of the beach, free from other people and I must declare that it felt so... natural. Perhaps we should all be naked all the time?

My bathroom

My last day in Zipolite, despite experiencing a gigantic cockroach scurrying over my feet in the shower (a complaint to which the hostel owner responded affectionately ¨aaah a cucuracha! hahahahaha!¨ as if I should have felt delighted), was one of my favourite days in Mexico yet. That evening I chilled on the beach with a 29yr old Mexican artesan and a 19yr old Mexican truck driver. We sat near to a beachside bar that was playing Cuban music and both Mexicans instinctively rose and began dancing so naturally and rhythmically to the music as though they were made to dance. The artesan, Victor, then pulled me up to dance with him and naturally, I failed to emulate the simple yet perfect rhythm of his dancing feet. I was so clumsy and awkward it was excrutiating! And I always thought I was an excellent dancer...

My view

But this is something that I have noted time and time again! People do not exaggerate in the slightest when they talk of Latin blood and how the salsa rhythm is intrinsically a part of what it means to be Mexican. I am overwhelmingly jealous about this and always have to resort to my knees-up-slow-walking-dubstep dance or indeed one of my more ridiculous routines. My favourite part about this is the wild abandon with which Mexicans dance! There is no awkwardness, feelings of shame, pretentiousness, self-consciousness etc. It is simply a case of, this music is great - I´m going to move to it! I couldn´t imagine being with a British artesan and truck driver and having the same experience.

Mexican drummers

Similarly, I love how in touch with spirituality and the universe Mexicans seem to me. Well at least the majority of those whom I have encountered. In the same evening, my company were both discussing the constellations of the stars and the infinity of the universe from both their own and ancient Mayan perspectives. My night was iced with walking along the beach and kicking at the sand to reveal glowing plankton (I think this is what it is called in English? My friends called it ´planton´ in spanish) in the sand. There were so many! Just glittering all over the beach. I felt like I was walking in the starry sky...

I love Mexico
xxxxxxxxxxxxx

New me

Closure at Punta Cometa

Kylie!

After my doctor's appointment on Thursday evening confirming that everything was ok, my feet were not infected, I was healing and recovering well and I could walk on the beach, dance, swim and have fun again, I celebrated with a reggae beach festival party on Friday night. And then Saturday I packed my things, said a FINAL FINAL goodbye to Puerto Escondido and Hostal A La Casa and caught a bus back to Mazunte. All this time I knew that I had to make peace with the place.

So yesterday Kyle - my favourite, geeky chic, funny and brilliant Australian - and I arrived and spent some time walking along the beach. It was strange and a bit scary for me. But I could tell that it was good. We ate an indulgent dinner and as both of us were tired and mighty hungover we crashed out in our hammocks, which were our beds for the night. And what a night's sleep! Our hostel, La Isla, is Mazunte's party hostel so there were people fiesta-ing alongside our hammocks and electro music blaring until 6am. THIS combined with belligirent mosquitos intent on biting me despite the repellent I had doused my body in, combined with the fact I struggle to find my comfort position in hammocks anyway, combined with the most bizarre dreams including one of me being a mother and losing my baby in the sand (WTF?!!!) made for a strange as fuck night. Nevertheless, this morning I awoke at 6am, ironically when they turned OFF the music, and slathered on more mosquito poison and slept til 11am. I now know that I enjoy the IDEA of sleeping in a hammock on a beach more so than actually doing it.

Awake, I spent a lot of time on Mazunte beach just watching. The sea, the shore, the sand, the crabs, the people. Also, FYI - I noticed SIX EFFING LIFEBOATS ON THE SHORE TODAY!!!!!!!!!!! SIX! WHATTHAFUCK?! Where were these boats when I needed them?! And I only wanted ONE! I guess it is because of Semana Santa - the Mexican Easter - and the influx of Mexicans from the cities that they are forced to up the safety factor. But still.

And then I finally managed to pluck up the courage to go back to Punta Cometa. The place of my accident. I walked there alone, it was important. It was a long walk, longer than I remembered. More beautiful though. I got emotional whilst walking to the cliff but told myself I wasn't allowed to cry until I was there. And then finally I got there (the safe, non-risky, non-rocky cliff side) part where people often gather. Noone was around so I was able to speak to the sea in peace. I sat and looked down at the sea where nearly two weeks prior I had fallen. Here I spent nearly three hours. I prayed. To who? I am not sure. To God, to nature, to the sea, to the vultures flying low and circling my head, to the sun's reflection. I thanked everything for that day, for challenging me. For saving me. For blessing me with life. For blessing me with that experience. For my family, my friends, the people I had met travelling, the things I had seen, places I had been, for my life, for my lust for life, for my adventures.

My friend in Mazunte

I stood and outstretched my arms, with the breeze cooling me and the sun warming me and the horizon circling me I felt like I was hugging the world. I breathed in the sea air and confronted my trauma. I laughed and cried and probably looked scarily insane. I put my mind back to March 22nd and relived it in as much detail as possible. It was still scary. I could still see everything vividly. Sense everything in sharp realness and yet surreal out-of-body experience. I could re-feel the adrenaline pumping through my body and my eyes popping out of my skull like they felt like they did that day. I felt strong, reenergised, lucky, grateful and best of all... ALIVE. Closure and confrontation is a beautiful privilege. I am now ready for the next phase of my adventures.

Anetta

The Aftermath

When the boat took me ashore, I was helped out and my head was all over the place. Adrenaline was pumping through my body and everything seemed at once so sharp and yet a blur. I couldn´t understand anything. Every Mexican on the beach was crowded around me and I just stood there, barely able to, bleeding and confused. I could hardly talk. They asked me what I wanted to do. I didn´t know. I wanted to be looked after. I wanted to cry. I wanted to lie down. My body ached and hurt so much I didn´t know what to do. I tried to sit but was in so much pain. And yet I felt like laughing. I thought I was dead. And now here I was, just SO ALIVE that I could feel the shooting pains all over my body. I breathed so deeply.

I was hoisted on to the back of a motorcycle by some of the men who had come in the boat. My feet felt like they were shattered with broken glass but they were not bleeding, I couldn´t understand why. And then just as we were about to ride off, I saw Olivier running towards me. I hugged him like he was my lifeline and cried and cried. He was crying and telling me he was so proud of me. I had known him only a matter of days and yet as he was the only ´familiar´ to me in that context, he felt SO familiar. And also because he had been there throughout the entire ordeal. He climbed on the quadbike too and we rode to a nearby house. I couldn´t walk and so he carried me in to the courtyard of the house where loads of people crowded around my bleeding, limp body as I sat in the middle on a chair. That´s when Sinah and Marley arrived. I felt so intensely warm when they did. They were both also so pumped with adrenaline and in disbelief that I was sitting there alive. Sinah was shaking and crying and very distressed. A man began taking care of my wounds. With a hose over my head, he washed all the blood off me and then began treating and bandaging my wounds. I have no idea who he was. I couldn´t think straight and kept making jokes and laughing so hard. I laughed so hard and cried. Especially when someone began taking photos of me. For the local media, he said. Someone then took my email address and asked me if I could return for an interview. I couldn´t think and could only chainsmoke.

When I was ready to leave, Olivier carried me back on to the quadbike and we were given a ride back to our hostel. This is where I complained about my feet and Marley and Olivier took a look. The situation was dire. There were hundreds of small but sharp and deep and excrutiatingly painful spines from sea urchins and bits of coral lodged in to my feet. Olivier and Marley set about removing them with a penknife and needle (sterilised with a lighter) and a torchlight as it was pitchblack dark night now. Having my feet carved up, I was screaming and crying and laughing. Thankfully I had Sinah by my side to squeeze my hand and laugh and scream and cry with me. It was so surreal. People were handing me shots of Mezcal. Everyone was asking me questions, YOU´RE THE GIRL THAT DROWNED?! WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! etc. Everyone wanted to know how my mind was thinking on the ocean. I struggled to speak, adrenaline still clouding my thoughts and throbbing all over my body. I was in too much pain so eventually the boys decided to give it a rest for the evening and to continue again in the morning in the light and with clearer heads.

Olivier carried me on to the beach and there the four of us sat, confused and talking. We talked all night. Sinah was extremely troubled and upset by what had happened. She was shaking and crying and disturbed and broken. However I could only see the experience as a positive thing. I was fucking alive! I had been saved! I felt so effing lucky and so spiritual and so in love with the earth, with life, with nature, with Mexico, with my friends in Mazunte, with my friends and family at home and all over the world, with myself. I felt like I had been born again. I was in pain and yet I could not feel it. All I could feel was the breath rushing through me, the electricity at my fingertips, the love. The experience was my rebirth. It was traumatic and fucked up but I had come out alive, healthy (mas o menos), and with more thirst for life than ever before. I felt intensely happy and wanted to share my thoughts with my friends. Marley and Olivier responded well and we discussed the entire experience at length. It had been fucking scary and intense for them too and they wanted to share their horror for the situation and also their relief. We had a beautiful night of sharing.

The next morning, Sinah expressed that she could not stay there. Mazunte now haunted her because of the experience and she wanted to go back to Puerto Escondido where she felt safe and could mentally recover. I said I would stay with Marley and Olivier and they promised to look after me. And they did, as best they could. That whole Tuesday they stayed by my side, carried me if I needed to go to the bathroom, fed me, attempted to remove more of the thorny bastards cutting my feet. At the small rustic hostel we were staying at, La Isla, people swarmed around me all days wanting to hear my story. I was offered nineteen hundred different suggestions of remedies for my pain, including: painkillers, hash, putting my feet in babyoil-filled socks, putting my feet in saltwater, putting my feet in a bucket of water with a special plant that should refresh them, homeopathic pills, holding a rosequartz for calming strength, opium, mezcal, antiseptic creams, tiger balm, herbal teas... By the end of the day I hadn´t moved from the same two white plastic chairs and I passed out that evening, exhausted from everything and drugged up like hell. I could not take the pains and aches all over my body, my wounds were so deep and pink and raw and looked like they could easily get infected and my feet were broken, I couldn´t walk. I was getting frustrated with depending so heavily on Marley and Olivier and my pride was taking a beating. Particularly as there seemed no end to my pain. Not here, with no medical treatment. But how could I get myself on a bus to elsewhere? I felt down and numb. Enrique, the hostel manager, offered to drive me to the nearest and only health centre in Mazunte the next morning as it closes at midday. I felt happier, tomorrow I would be treated and in a couple more days I would be on my feet again.

Claire, Sinah & Sara

The next morning my body ached even more and I struggled to hoist myself out of bed. However I felt ok because I was going to go to a health centre. Enrique drove myself and Olivier there but when we arrived it was closed with no signs as to any reason why. Enrique asked a neighbour who simply replied that it might be open tomorrow instead. This is rural Mexico. This is Mazunte.

We drove back to the hostel and I felt utterly deflated. I didn´t know how much longer I could do this. Relying on Marley and Olivier just seemed so UNFAIR to them. I wasn´t getting any better. I didn´t know when I might be able to repair. I was depressed and began to cry - real, sad, unstoppable tears. I felt lost, isolated and alone. I felt broken and beyond repair. I was still so exhausted. How could I heal psychologically when I could not even heal physically?

I climbed in to a hammock and fell asleep.

Nurse Katrina

I later opened my eyes and saw five, beautiful, shining, caring and FAMILIAR faces standing over me. Sara, Claire, Tyler, Katriina and Sinah. Confused, I blinked several times. What are you guys doing here?! ¨WE´VE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME!¨ When Sinah had left Mazunte the morning before, she returned to our friends in Puerto Escondido. There she arrived a crying, hysterical mess and told them about my accident and what had happened and how she couldn´t handle it and was too upset and broken and didn´t know what to do. Then they all resolved to come to Mazunte to ¨rescue¨ me and bring me back to Puerto where they could look after me and help me get the medical attention I needed. I was so overwhelmed and emotional. When you travel alone and things fuck up you feel more alone than ever. You feel stupid for having CHOSEN to travel alone. You realise your own limitations and how sometimes you really do need people. You want your friends and family at home to take care of you. But you only have yourself. So when people who you haven´t known for very long go WELL out of their way to come and save you and look after you, it is the most beautiful feeling. My faith in the strength of human kindness has deeply intensified.

Angels!

Patrick, Marley, Sara & Kyle

So I took a bus back to Puerto with them, Marley came too but Olivier decided to stay in Mazunte. When we got back to Puerto, my friends showered me with love, care and affection. They listened to my story and cried. Then they helped me. Over the course of the next few days they each did their bit. Daniella, the hostel owner drove me to the hospital and Sinah sat with me as the doctor there operated on my feet with only local anaesthetic, which apparently my body rejected. I felt everything. I was told I would have to stay in Puerto for another week and rest and recuperate on antibiotics. No alcohol, no going to the beach, no dancing, no stressing my feet, no fun. Thankfully, the Hostel a la casa already felt like my second home and I loved everyone there so I couldn´t have been sentenced to a better place! Each day, Sinah the strong-minded and big-hearted German would cook dinner for all of us and make sure that I fed. Sweet and gentle Katriina from California bathed me with a sponge, carefully avoiding my wounds but ensuring that I kept my dignity. Hilarious and cute Sara from Chicago washed my hair for me. Claire, the funny and honest Brit who has been badly ill herself with a kidney infection, talked to me about my pain and dependency on others and told me to not let my pride get in the way and that sometimes I really can be a bitch if I dom´t feel like smiling. And Tyler the heartbeat of A La Casa, the Canadian who runs the show, would fetch me saltwater baths for my feet. And each day, someone would sit with me at all times when everyone else would be on the beach to keep me company.

Olivier

It has been a beautiful week and I am so lucky to have met such caring and wonderful and fun individuals. I feel truly touched by their friendship. It has been a week since I returned to Puerto and I am healing. I can walk on my feet now. My wounds have scabbed over and will soon be (sexy) scars with one helluva story. I have my doctor´s apppointment tomorrow whereby I am hoping that I will be told that it is all good, I am healed and can move on with my travels. As much as I love Puerto Escondido, I have been here far too long! The Oaxacan coast has broken, healed and changed me. And I love it!

Peace out,
Anetta x

MARCH 22nd 2010 in MAZUNTE, MEXICO

Mazunte beach, Oaxaca

If you speak to anyone who has been to Mazunte this past week, they might tell you about a girl who nearly drowned or even about a girl who did drown in the sea. That was me. On Tuesday 22nd March 2010, I was walking along some rocks on a cliff edge with three friends. The waves of the sea beneath me were ferocious but they were way, way beneath me. And just as I was thinking that the view was possibly the most incredible sight I had ever seen in my life, a rogue wave came out of nowhere at least 10meters higher than the others, slammed against the cliffside and picked me up from the rocks and took me down. I was dragged along the rocks, coral and sea urchins before plunging in to sea where it took over an hour and a half for a lifeboat to rescue me. I nearly died. But because I didn´t, I came alive. I really want to share this story with you.

I arrived on Monday 21st March in Mazunte with a bunch of super awesome people who I had met in Puerto Escondido and had been chilling with for over a week. Since I got to Mexico I had been excited about Mazunte. All the best travellers I had met along the way had raved about Mazunte, how beautiful the beach is, how clear the sea is and the generally good vibes of the place. And Mazunte did not disappoint. It is stunning and it pulsates with a spiritual energy. Our first evening, for example, we walked to Punta Cometa to watch the sun set where a bunch of people - travellers and locals - were making a party of drumming and African dancing to celebrate the Equinox. It was so great and I felt very happy and excited to be there.

And Tuesday 22nd March was no different. I awoke feeling very happy. Yesterday I rewatched some footage that I shot that morning of the beach and of myself describing how intensely happy I felt, how emotional and overwhelmed I was to be in Mazunte and how I felt like I wanted to be there forever. I fell in love with the beach there instantly. So later, after sending a routine email to my family telling them I am good and I loved them, I went for a walk with four of my friends, Marley, Olivier, Sinah and Galen, to Punta Cometa again where the view is sensational. Here the boys clambered over the rocks whereas Sinah and I just sat on the cliff itself watching the sea. Both of us were so humbled by the enormity of the beauty before us. After some time Galen left, he had to leave Mazunte to go back to D.F. so we all said our goodbyes and Marley left too but only to bring back some water for us. So Sinah, Olivier and myself began exploring the rocks.

Me and Sinah on Punta Cometa

It was an incredible walk, the world was really sparkling. And then I sat on the side of a rock looking down at the far-below sea, the waves smashing against the side of the cliff beneath me. I was safe. The waves were very far down and the highest wave I had seen was still crashing against the cliff at a distance. I looked around and thought that this sight was possibly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. And then I heard Sinah call ¨Marley!¨ as Marley came in to view above us carrying the water. I looked up and repeated his name. Just then I saw the coming wave, a rogue freak wave, rise up and up and up and up tsunami-like as it crashed, well above my head on the cliffside. Screaming, I tried to hold on the rocks but the force of the wave kept dragging me away from the rocks and pulling me down and down in to the sea. Here I plunged in deep and scratched my body on coral and sea urchins below the rocks and forced my way up and out of the water to get some air.

As I gasped for air, I looked up and saw Marley, Sinah and Olivier´s panicked and desperate faces screaming at me, far above me and out of reach. It was more intense than a scene from a movie. I didn´t know what to do or where to go. When I swam nearer to the rocks the waves slammed me against them but if I swam away from the cliffside, I would be further out at sea and more isolated. The nearest beach was really far. I saw Marley running to get help. We were about 20mins walk away from anything/ anyone. Olivier and Sinah kept shouting things at me ¨Don´t swim too much, conserve your energy!¨, ¨Just float on your back¨, ¨Just stay above water, keep breathing!¨ I was desperate. I had no idea. They had no idea. I was weak. I was injured. I was bleeding. I was exhausted. My body ached all over. I was lost. I just had to keep staying afloat.

For the next hour to hour and a half, I was there on the ferocious sea attempting to stay afloat. Waiting. When I tried to swim in one direction, the waves would take me either towards rocky cliff edge or pull me out further to sea. When I tried floating on my back the waves were too high they would crash over my face and I would swallow water, which I knew was not at all good for survival. My body was so weak, all I could do was tread water and wait for help. Wait for the boat to come and rescue me. Surely it would come soon. No?

Sinah, pointing out the high waves pre-fall

I could see Sinah and Olivier on the cliff side, they kept talking to me, shouting things at me. They kept promising me there was a boat coming, that Marley had gone to find help and I just needed to stay there for a bit longer and I would be rescued. But I could see the fear in their eyes when they talked to me. I could hear the hesitation in their voices. They didn´t know if there would be a boat coming, Mazunte beach only has a volunteer lifeguard system and that was 20mins away. They later told me that they thought that they would have to witness me drowning in front of them. I could see more and more people accumulate on the Punta, to watch the sun set. More people were getting hysterical, shouting things at me, shouting encouragement. Noone wants to see a girl die. Some of them I could see their sillhouettes as they walked up the cliff edge, then spotted me in the sea, their hands would lift in despair at either side of their heads and then they would run back down the hill to try to get help from Mazunte, I assumed.

But it often all seemed in vain. There was no boat. For the hour or so I was on the sea, there was NO BOAT. There were no boats in Mazunte beach, nothing could help me. In the sea, I was exhausted. My body was exhausted after five minutes of being in the ocean, but my mind kept me alive. The reason I wish to share this experience is because despite it having been the scariest fucking thing I have ever been through, I feel intensely lucky and can only see it as overall as having been a positive experience. My mind was able to think in ways it has never explored before. For a whole hour, I had my very own existential crisis. In many ways, I died in that hour. My mind thought a million different thoughts, saw the world and my situation from a hundred bizarre angles and I was constantly fighting myself, the sea, the world in general, survival and death. It was utterly phenomenal and I am going to try explain the best way I can.

When I was on the sea, I straddled LIFE and DEATH. My mind battled with itself and with my body to the extreme. Luckily, fighting LIFE´s corner were several factors. First and foremost were thoughts of my family. My Mum, my Dad, Daniel and Maria. My core pillars of strength in this world, the reason I can never feel alone. The reason I am one of the luckiest people alive. I fucking love my family so much that I was crying my heart out on the sea whenever I thought about them. I cannot leave them and I could not let them mourn over me. Not like this, not so suddenly. I did not want to stop being a part of my family. So I fought for them. I struggled against the waves crashing on me, for them. I also thought about all my favourite people I had met in my life. At school growing up, in Malaysia, in university, in London, whilst travelling over the world. All these fantastic human beings that I feel blessed to call my friends. These strong, interesting, interested, beautiful beautiful people. Many of whom I have thought about so much whilst away on this trip and remembered why I fell in love with them as friends in the first place. People I am so lucky to know. I did not want to leave them. I wanted to stay with them and explore more of the world with them and how it works and ourselves. Not ready to say goodbye.

Marley my hero, carefree before my fall

The next thing that kept me going were my friends shouting at me and talking to me and encouraging me and seeing the speed at which Marley mobilised himself and ran to get help. THEY KEPT ME ALIVE. These friends who I had only met in the last week or so kept me the FUCK ALIVE. They gave so much of a shit and I could hear it in their voices and see it in their eyes when they looked at me when I was in the water. They shouted that they loved me, that they couldn´t lose me, they kept encouraging me to keep up my energy and that it would be worth it. They made me believe so intensely that my life was worth struggling to save. It was heartbreaking. And in the same way that they didn´t want to see their new friend die before them, I did not want them to have to see that. Several times my mind would dive inside the heads of one of my friends. I´d try and think like Olivier was thinking, he kept shouting at me to relax and sometimes even to enjoy the experience. A strange suggestion you might think but possibly one of the best for me. What else could I do?! I had to stay afloat until (and IF) a boat comes along. The more I stressed and panicked the harder it was to stay above the water. When I relaxed and breathed properly, I was calm and found it easier. I imagined being in Olivier´s head and telling him to keep talking to me and not to give up on me. Keep giving me a reason to struggle. Then I´d dip into sweet Sinah´s head and feel very upset as I could see how utterly distressed she was. I wanted to tell her to be calm and not get too upset just yet, I am still here. And then my favourite would be to imagine getting inside Marley´s head. Keep running, Marley. Get me that boat. I believe in you and trust you and know you can do it. It was quite odd that later, Marley said he felt like he could hear my thoughts on the sea too and was trying to communicate with me to hold on and be strong.

Sometimes I would get in the heads of the strangers that had accumulated. That wasn´t fun. To see a strange girl drown before them. I didn´t want these people to have to see it. Painful for them to watch but still, to them, I am nothing. Sinah, Marley and Olivier were the only close people to me there but I had only known them a week. On the sea, I felt like I had known them my whole life. They were the most familiar thing to me in the whole situation. I was so detached from everything and everyone else. That would easily make me a statistic. Just a horror story. Be careful if you´re near Punta Cometa, a girl drowned there last week. I did NOT want to be that girl. I am more than that. Another one of my saving graces - my PRIDE. I did not want to be the pathetic girl that drowned in front of this audience. No. I was stronger. My friends were shouting how proud they are of me for how long I was going and I wanted to make them prouder. I was going to be the survival story that people would talk about for weeks. Hand in hand with my pride, was my ego. I am too fucking great to die right now. This is exactly what I thought. I enjoy life far too much, I am a happy person, I am a good person and I get a hell of a lot of a life so this CANNOT be it.

PLUS, the world is too fucking beautiful. I am amazed and in awe and impressed by nearly everywhere I go. Certainly on this trip so far. I did not feel ready to leave this planet and all its wonder. I looked at the sea, the rocks, the sun, my friends and my nothing-body in the middle of it all and yet I was seeing everything as one. I spoke to the sea animals, to the birds, to the sea, to the rocks, to my friends minds, to my family and friends the world over. I reached out to everything. I have always felt concerned with LIVING IN THE MOMENT and not being distracted but I can honestly say that I dont think I have ever lived more in the moment than for that time I was floating, struggling to stay alive in the middle of the sea. It felt like a spiritual awakening was taking place in my mind, body and soul over the course of that hour and it would be an awful waste if I could not put that in to practise and explore it further. I was experiencing a change in my own consciousness and it was liberating and wonderful and incredible and I could not let that go.

The waves would come near the cliffside

I have just had to stop, walk outside the internet cafe and have a cigarette. I feel very faint exploring this again. I cannot quite explain to the full extent how my mind was thinking. This is very emotional for me. Before the accident, I was talking to Olivier about how I believe that words are often a waste as experience and emotions and thoughts are infinite whereas words are limited. They are generic labels for feelings and thoughts that we THINK we share. The best thing we can experience with other people is silence as instead of talking and disturbing communication, we can tune in to each others energies and understand each other better in that way. Anything someone tries to describe is therefore reduced to familiarities that other people can then try to empathise with. I don´t think that unless you have had a similar experience that it is really possible for me to explain the places my mind reached when I was on the sea. If you are reading this and we are still good enough friends to meet then maybe I can try communicate it in person to you rather than through written text. But whatever, I still think it is important that I try to share my experience as best I can now. If you are reading this, even if we are not that good friends, we must have touched each other´s lives in SOME way to have made enough of an impression to have warranted a ¨facebook friend request¨ haha so I still want to share this with you. I believe now more than ever that nearly all interactions should be as meaningful as that interaction can possibly be. This is my meaningful interaction with you.

The final thought that fought for my life was my own strength of mind and how the BOAT WAS COMING and that all I had to do was HOLD ON because it DEFINITELY WOULD COME. This was my biggest battle possibly. I believed in my own strength of mind most of the time and so long as I thought the boat was coming and my friends or the other spectators were encouraging me in this vein, then all I had to do was hold on. And yes, I could fucking do that. All they needed me to do was stay calm, be patient and HOLD THE FUCK ON and I would be rescued. Easy.

...And then crash up high violently against the cliff

Or not so, as this was where Death toyed with and teased Life like a violent bully. As time went on, I became increasingly aware that there was NO BOAT. I would look around me and there was no safety net. There was nothing. Just more endless expanses of violent sea that had battered and isolated me so far. Nothing to cling to. No security blanket. I ONLY HAD MYSELF. The odd occassion when I would muster enough energy to scream at everyone watching ¨WHERE´S THE BOAT?!¨, sometimes there was no reply. This was because I was getting further and further away and their figures were becoming smaller and smaller which made me think that they could not hear me. Which worried and scared me. I was becoming less of a real person and more of just that-girl-drowning-in-the-sea. Or they stopped replying because they didn´t know. They wanted to stop giving me false hopes. They wanted to stop lying to me. They themselves were becoming desperate for my chance of survival. But this was the most difficult. When people stop shouting things at me, that´s when I felt like less of a person. Less of Anetta and more of an ex-Anetta. This was when I felt like people were beginning to say goodbye. That I was a lost case. They had made peace with my death and now I had to aswell. There was no boat. Mazunte had no boats. There was no way of me being saved. I had been on the sea for what felt like forever and maybe I should stop struggling. My body was exhausted. I kept swallowing water and choking. Water was in my eyes. I was bleeding. Mazunte is known for bull sharks. We had seen whales (?) when we were looking over the cliff at about the same spot I was now floating. I am probably not one of those survivor type people who can outlive these experiences. These could be my last minutes alive and I would have spent them struggling and sputtering and with false expectations and hopes. Maybe I should just enjoy my own beautiful death.

It sounds warped but your mind works in curious ways when you think you are dying. I looked around me and it was so beautiful. Mazunte. The sea all around me. So enormous and expansive. And only me, little me, in the middle. Being engulfed. Disturbing its pattern. It was so beautiful and maybe I should just let it swallow me. There are worse places and ways to die. The sea looked silver from the sun, the waves were so high and smooth and surreal. I could feel things occassionally swimming past my feet. The sun was so warm and comforting and I had never felt so happy in all my life as I did that morning. Maybe it was my time. Maybe God was being kind. It was the perfect place to die. Occassionally these thoughts would overtake everything else and I would just kind of lie on my back in exhaustion and my head would roll back and I would let myself be sucked in by the sea and imagine dying this romantic death.

Me, about 20mins before I fell in to the Pacific

But then I couldn´t. And whenever my mind rocked towards Death, Life would always kick me up the ass again and force me to think that the BOAT IS COMING. I think that about after a half hour of constant back-and-forth between my life/death, I found my perfect survival equilibrium. This sustained me for the next hour or so. It involved me deciding to delude myself that there IS A BOAT COMING to save me but instead of struggling and sputtering and fighting for survival, I was able to surf this calm, peaceful dimension of existence whereby as I had decided there is a boat coming all I had to do was hold on. But because where I was at that point in time was so fucking beautiful, I had to try and enjoy it. And if a boat never came then at least I fucking tried but fucking enjoyed it at the same time. I liberated my mind from earthly worries and let nature and the sea take care of me. I had no more energy but the sea just lifted me here and there and I just held on, not fighting the sea, only fighting my mind. When my mind was in this place, it was beautiful and was able to existentially analyse its own existence. Occasionally it would dip in to dark thoughts and then I would bring it back to the happy place. I had never felt so proud of myself.

And then I drifted a bit away from the spectators and it was just me and the sea for some time. And then I heard someone shouting. To my left. And then I saw someone in the water swimming towards me with a floating aid. With a speedboat following behind him. Everything changed in that instant. It was no longer just me v the world. I had someone on my side. I HAD A BOAT. When the floating aid was handed to me, I fainted on it. I was utterly exhausted. I could not breathe anymore. I could not swim anymore. I had no more mind power. I was so weak. I was hoisted on to the boat and driven for another 10mins on the sea until we reached shore. In those 10minutes I was so lightheaded. My blood was going everywhere in the boat. The voluntary lifeguard who had swam to me held me as I shook ferociously and then became deadly still in varying extremes of shock. I was confused. And yet I WAS FUCKING ALIVE. I couldn´t believe it. There were so many times out on the sea that I had given up on me and I know that the people around had too. And yet I was FUCKING ALIVE. I had never felt so FUCKING ALIVE. I tried to breathe deeply.

We reached the shore and lots of young confused Mexicans crowded my figure on the beach. I was confused. People asked me questions in Spanish. And English hippie offered me herbs for my wounds. Where do you want to go now? They ASKED ME. Would I not just be taken somewhere? I couldn´t think. I walked away from everyone and took a second to sit on a log on the beach and just BREATHE. Air without the chance of swallowing seawater. It felt beautiful. I could feel the adrenaline pumping out of my eyes. There is no hospital or doctors in Mazunte so my bleeding, ripped body was lain on the back of a motorcycle and driven to a nearby house where a man bandaged me. Sinah, Olivier and Marley had run to be with me. We were all crying and shaking and confused and relieved. I couldn´t help laugh and make jokes. It was so surreal. I was FUCKING ALIVE. My wounds were cleaned and bandaged. I chainsmoked. My friends hugged and cried with me. Then Olivier carried me back to our hostel La Isla. I couldn´t walk. And this was where we noticed the hundreds of excrutiatingly painful spines from coral and sea urchins that had lodged deep in both my feet.

I fell off the other side of this in to the ocean

My treatment thereafter the accident is another story which I will perhaps write tomorrow. Healing - physically and psychologically - from such an experience is a huge task and one that I am five days in to. Today was the first day I could walk (made it to the internet cafe!) although I still look like a zombie granny, balancing only on my tip toes as the heels of my feet are still raw. Marley does an excellent impression of my hobble. My friends here have been incredibly kind in helping me, I have been really overwhelmed.

If you have got this far, thank you for reading. I really wanted to share the mind struggle that I was able to experience with you as not only was it strange and unique but also because you probably played some part in my survival and I am grateful. I don´t know exactly how yet it has changed me but I know that it has. It separated the important from the unimportant. People and love are important. Pretentiousness and facades are not. The experience was easily the most important and incredible and insane and scary and strange and weird and yet beautiful experience of my life to date. The reason I say beautiful and I am able to see it in a positive light is because I feel like it woke up something inside of me. I am sure I will explore this more later. I am looking forward to healing physically because I think once that is out of the way I will find it easier to heal psychologically and explore the existential questions that I was presented.

I love you all,
Anetta xxx