Today I have a literary snapshot of a morning watching a sunrise in Mexico. Just a few hours' time, yet I will treasure it forever.
I caught a cab from my resort at 5:30 am. I'd invited my fellow yogis the night before, but no one really wanted to approach the morning in its early bloom, so I was on my own...and just as well. I arrived about 15 minutes later, and I made my way to the furthest-most point on Punta del Sur, reportedly the first place where the sun peaks over the horizon in all of Mexico.
I came ready for my commune with the sun: I had a water-bottle filled with a perfectly-concocted mimosa, and an open and willing heart and an eager eye. I spied a stone windbreak and made my way to set up for the morning's show. But surprise! It was already occupied by two young fellows whom I estimated instantly to be about the age of my own children. They had blankets spread for their comfort, and a bluetooth speaker, over which they were playing music of my culture and generation, despite the fact that they were twenty-something young men from Jerusalem (as I discovered later).
That sunrise was utterly incredible. Knowing that I was among the first in Mexico to witness the birth of a new day was, in itself, breathtaking and spiritual. Sharing it almost wordlessly with two young men from another part of the world with vastly different views and lifestyles made it even more powerful. Despite age and gender differences, cultural and linguistic barriers, we shared a moment I shall never forget.
I'd arrived on Punta del Sur with high expectations. The dawn was beautiful, and I was in high spirits, basking in my love for travel and new experiences and looking forward to welcoming a new day. I'd arranged for a cab the night before, and as that capable fellow dropped me off at Punta del Sur the following morning, I bid him return at 7:30. In the meantime, the morning was mine, and it turned out to be pure magic.
It cost me three dollars U.S. to enter the furthest most point of Punta del Sur, which was a beautiful bluff overlooking the easternmost view of the sunrise over Mexico's portion of the Yucatan Peninsula. I came equipped with a 2-litre water bottle equipped with the perfect dry mimosa featuring fresh-squeezed orange-juice, and an eagerness to live fully. I made my way to the aforementioned windbreak, where the beautiful boys had already stationed themselves. They welcomed my heartily, and then the three of us proceeded to share the next hour nearly wordlessly, but with a strangely deep connection which I attribute wholly to our mutual desire to live fully. I quietly shared my mimosas with them and they passed me an occasional hit of ganga, all as we witnessed the sun's ascent. The icing on my cake was the fact that these boys were playing music from my generation-- two decades before they were a glimmer in their parents' eyes-- and it was the hippie stuff I'd chosen way back when! In particular was their choice of Pink Floyd: perfect!
So...I saw the sun rise in Mexico before the majority of the rest of the country. I found a relatively flat rock to settle my bum on, and I sipped champagne, toked a little ganga, and grooved to some of the best psychedelic music on the planet with two beautiful boys while I welcomed a new day. Not too shabby, eh?
It was an incredibly spiritual moment for me, and the sacrifice of sleep was well worth it. Beautiful morning, beautiful boys, beautiful sunrise, soul-searching music, and bonus gifts... amazing. one of the top moments of my life.
Thank you, universe. Thank you, Mexico. Thank you, boys...
(I have a time-lapse video but alas, I can't post it because of its file size. Trust me...it was magic.)
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