halloween | Lynch 2.0

After spending a few days in New Orleans, Meggerz and I took a flight down to Nuevo Vallarta to spend a week with a friend of mine, Danielle, who is going through a divorce and was in dire need of a vacation. We spent a couple days at her parents beach condo, and then decided to take a day trip to the nearby surfer town, Sayulita.

We all immediately fell in love. It was a stark contrast to the very nice, but fairly boring resort area we were staying at before where there wasn’t a whole lot to do but lay on the beach. Sayulita was colorful: full of bohemian shops with hand made clothes and jewelry, beautiful young surfers, $25 massages, friendly people and amazing food.

We laid on the sand and took surfing lessons during the day, had an amazing dinner right on the beach in the evening, then headed over to the plaza which had come alive with music, taco stands and skeleton face children running around and performing in Day Of the Dead festivities. It was sensory overload. It soon became apparent a day wouldn’t be enough.

After receiving a tip from a local bartender, we checked into a rather fancy hostel and made immediate friends with the staff, who happened to all be young travelers themselves with the vision of creating a top quality hostel for backpackers by backpackers. It was perfect, we all got along seamlessly. I don’t believe in fate, but you can’t deny the euphoric feeling you get when everything seems to fall serendipitously into place.

On halloween we had dinner at an authentic mexican restaurant and watched all the little trick or treaters run around the streets with plastic grocery bags collecting candy (in this area kids go trick or treating at businesses instead of door to door.) Afterwards we all partied on the hostel’s rooftop lounge drinking tequila and painting each others faces, then headed over to near by beach party that occurs every Friday at Cameron and danced to latin music until 3am.

The size of this town was one of the things I loved most about it, everything you need is right in walking distance; friends, food, music, & the beach. I met a lot of people but never bothered to get anyone’s contact info because I would inevetably run into them just walking around the area. Life was effortlessly pleasurable. Everyday someone would plant the seen of “you’re not going to leave” in my head and with each passing day the desire grew larger.

Eventually the inventible happened and someone asked me what I did for a living. It’s always a bit of a thrill when people get to know me for a bit before asking. Getting caught up in the pleasure of being in an new country is an easy way to lose priority in that question. But soon after one person inquired, news of my vocation spread fast and eventually I was indulging questions and entertaining the staff and friends with stories about peddling my bodily fluids and berating men on the internet. It was fun. The hostel owner had a new found admiration for me and entertained the idea of making one of the private rooms into a dungeon for me to work out of so I’d never leave. As predicted, when my departure date grew closer, I wasn’t ready. I had just spent the best 13 pesos of my life on the most delectable carnitas taco when I knew I had absolutely had to stay and pushed back my flight another week.

The rest of the week I indulged in life’s satisfying simplicities. New interesting travelers came and went in the hostel who were full of rich, interesting things to talk about. More than ever I felt I had really caught the travel bug. I wanted to stay yet go everywhere all at the same time.

Sadly, it all had to come to an end at some point (as much as everyone tried to convince me it didn’t.) On my last day some friends and I went on a boat tour to the different islands. There was snorkeling, kayaking, & paddle boarding, but mostly everyone just swam and drank like fish. We made new friends on the boat who accompanied us afterwards to yet another beach party at Cameron. A Summer storm had just hit the area and I spent my last night dancing on the beach in the rain then stripping off my clothes and diving into the warm ocean water in my underwear.

Miraculously my hangovers were minimal at best, but coming back was still hard. The icy PNW weather didn’t make it any easier. Sayulita has been on my mind since I got home and Im already entertaining thoughts of coming back in March. But I can’t let my focus stray too far. In two weeks, I head to Thailand.

—–

Check out over 50+ exclusive images from this trip by joining my members site:

http://www.cearalynch.com

Monday I returned from two weeks of traveling. I flew to New Orleans, Mexico, and then made a short stop in Seattle before coming home. Rather than write some monstrous blog entry about it all, I’m going to divide it into three parts. First, let’s talk NOLA:

I flew into New Orleans and got picked up by Mistress T and Meggerz who had already been in the area for a couple days. From the airport we decided to dash straight to the infamous House Of Shock before they closed for the night. Supposedly this would be the last year they’d be doing this haunted house. It was rather impressive; a massive maze of creepy rooms and people dressed as monsters and zombies jumping out at you.

New Orleans is a fun place to be near halloween since the city is already known for voodoo and ghosts. We decided to stick with that theme by taking a tour around the alleged haunted houses around the city. I don’t believe in ghosts and had a little too much to drink that night so I had a hard time paying attention. I mostly nodded along to her stories of gruesome murders and suicides, wondering if they were factual and feeling sorry for the fact that she had to deal with a group of people less discreet about their inebriation than I was.

The next day we took a boat tour in the swamp. Our tour guide was like someone’s southern uncle, chock full of corny jokes and endless facts about a few topics. We saw swampy things like turtles, birds and my least favorite animal in the world: crocodiles.

I have a special kind of disdain for crocodiles. So much so that I was very much looking forward to eating one. At one point we managed to find a hot dog spot that served crocodile sausage, which tasted suspiciously like a normal hot dog, but I’m going to go ahead and choose to believe some deprave, cold blooded reptile died for my gluttony anyway.

The tours were fun, but my favorite part was just walking around the French Quarter and soaking it all in. Listening to live music, browsing the shops and stuffing my face with the worst/best kinds of food.

At one point while walking around the Frenchmen area, we met Cameryn Moore: a play write and phone sex operator who was selling short, personalized erotica right on the street. For $20 she would ask you a series of personal questions about your sexual proclivities/interests and in less than 30 min you’d have your own typed up story customized to hit your erotic triggers. I must say, this woman has a gift. All three of us bought a story and none of us were disappointed. The best part was listening in as she read allowed Meggerz and T’s story (the interview process was private.) T’s story in particular confirmed that she truly is the most perverted woman I know (which should be of little surprise to anyone.)