In the End: In the Very, Very End

In the end, in the very, very end I’d sailed two oceans and one sea—the Atlantic, Pacific and the Caribbean.   I went, as the anthem says, “from sea to shining sea.”

In the end, in the very, very end I found that it’s true that you can’t go home again. I’d expected a flurry of nostalgia when I returned to Playa del Carmen, but I’d changed, and the city had changed so much and had gotten so large that it was hardly recognizable. It made me sad, in a way.  The Playa I remembered was but a shelf of its former self. I’m not sure I’ll race back.

In the end, in the very, very end I recognize, once again, how much in love I am with Mexico City—especially between November and May.  The days are warm and the nights are cold and the sun shines hot and bright.  Azaleas and poinsettias are in full bloom and Christmas seems to be around every corner. Seasonal street stalls sell everything necessary for a full-blown Mexican Christmas.

In the end, in the very, very end, it was incredibly hard to leave 72 degree days and settle in to a short, dark, overcast December days in the north.

In the end, in the very, very end I was more than pleased with my new knee.  I held up to the rigors of five weeks away and three weeks on the ground in Mexico.  Despite a bit of stiffness, it’s essentially pain free.  This trip was a good choice.  Anything else would have been too aggressive.

In the end, in the very, very end it was a wonderful five week break from the cold and dreariness of late Fall. 

In the end, in the very, very end, it was Great!