uptempodemonplumsauce: "It's a black fly in your Chardonnay..."

Cracking up at this empty ass
pool in this empty ass spa.

...sang Alanis because she’s a prophet and could see my morning and The Most Annoying Couple in Existence, the flies in my pool. This comparison worked better when I was singing the song to myself as I tried to meditate them away.

9/13

Spaaaah Day!

My last day in Mexico deserves to be a spa day. La Gruta is a spa with thermal pools, a Temazcal, regular spa things and a restaurant. Based on Yelp reviews I decide I want to be there when it opens. At 7a. One would think that I would know better than to be anywhere in Mexico when it’s supposed to open, but I’m one stubborn optimistic idealist. Also, I’m willing to risk waiting for them to open if it means I get some peace and quiet before all the tourists show up after their leisurely breakfasts.

The taxi gets me there at 720a. They’re open! I’m shocked. It’s still really dark outside because it’s cloudy and we’re closer to the equator. I take a staff member up on his offer to show me around.

As he shows me around I realize he’s the only other staff member working besides the money lady. This place is open in name only. The locker person won’t arrive for another 45 minutes. I could swim and just leave my stuff out but, no, of course I can’t do that. I wait.

Worth the wait

When I finally get into the pools 45 minutes later, there’s about 8 people already who clearly don’t care if all their shit gets stolen. I step into the water and forget everything because aaaaahhhhhhhhh...

The warm water feels incredible. It’s perfect melting temperature. I go straight for the grotto.

The grotto is connected to the large, beautiful pool I’m in by a long stone underwater corridor that’s hip to chest deep on me. The pictures on the website made this cave-like entry look much bigger, but I really dig the cinematic aspect of the dark and lights, the moisture, the exposed rock. I walk the tunnel enchanted. Then perturbed. I hear voices...?

The biggest, best agua de guayaba ever

There is a couple having a close-to-yelling argument in THE ENTRYWAY of the grotto. It's 8am! I have to skirt past the woman to enter because she’s too pissed to move.

That’s not relaxing. Here’s a public service announcement: if you’ve paid money to step into a spa, shut the fuck up. Don’t chat above a whisper. If you’re having an argument, LEAVE. This goes for any spa in the whole world. (I’m also looking you, packs-of-girls who go to Olympic Day Spa and chat like they’re at Sunday Funday Brunch... Shut. Up.)

I try to steer clear. They argue in the grotto and then in the bigger pretty pool for at least an hour. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

A pool that had been empty when I arrived has been steadily filling with water cascading out from a pipe roughly six feet above the it. I, along with two other smart ladies, escape to this pool as soon as it’s over wading level. The torrent of water drowns out most of the couple’s volume and feels exquisite on my shoulders. WIN.

Santuario de Atotonilco

I float, I sun, I try to buy my way into their Temazcal (What’s a girl gotta do to get into a sweat lodge? Come at high season apparently.) but it’s a Saturday thing. I’m too high strung to fully enjoy the experience, but I really do try to relax.

After breakfast (quesadillas and beans and the best agua de guayaba I’ve ever tasted) I hear a child’s voice and know that is my cue to leave. Spas + children = Hard Pass.

Thank God Schnauzer Parents Lynn & Don told me how close the Santuario de Atotonilco was. I walk an easy fifteen minutes to the church people describe as the Sistine Chapel of Mexico.

I call this Mary's room

I’m glad I went because it’s impressive, but I’m not very connected to the moment. To be honest, I think I’ve got a touch of Little D(epression). I’m not feeling much unless it’s anxiety or exhaustion. Obviously, I’m well enough to feel annoyed, though. It makes sightseeing go quickly, anyway.

Later I treat myself to a dinner of ceviche(!) and my favorite ginger margarita(!!) at El Manantial and a Los Rabeats set at the rooftop Luna bar at sunset. It’s stunning as always, and the music is great, but once my margarita buzz wears off, I can’t wait to get home.

I know getting home to LA won’t solve all my problems, but at least I can establish a healthy routine so I can better take care of myself. I’m looking forward to putting all my energy into my well being in my lovely home with my own bed and my fierce kittens. I’m excited to get back to being healthy B instead of prickly, disconnected, unhealthy B.

Talking to my dad for his birthday (Happy Birthday Daddy!) he asked me if I thought the trip had been worth it. My answer: Yes, of course. For two reasons:

#goals, this baby girl was rad and knows her music.
Also LOS RABEATS!

The woo-woo reason is because I had FOUR separate deja vu moments here. These are scenes and moments I remembered from dreams I had in the past. I get deja vu once or twice a year if I’m lucky. To have four deja vus, two today(!), is super cool. I take it to mean I’m on the right track.

My actual reason is I couldn’t and would’t live my life any other way, even if it touches off my anxiety and depression.

My bouts with anxiety & depression show me that I’m taking myself for granted in some way. They force me to face Stuff, which helps me shift perspective from the exterior to the guts. Then I can get the help I need. This is only me. I don’t know how it works for anyone else.

So yeah, it’s always worth it. Every step.

And as I finish this post waiting for my flight to LA at a Pappas Cantina in the Houston Airport over an million dollar root beer float, its strange that it’s this simple, but I feel really happy right now.