It's bloody wild sometimes, waking up to see the ocean through an open doorway arched in red brick.  The metal spirals of a balcony reach for an understanding with veins of plants and morning light begins to warm my face.  There is sand in the bed and someone is rustling with simple kitchenware and I get the feeling that coffee is nearby.

A few days ago, a week maybe, my country was hit with monumental news that a very unexpected president would be our new leader.  I was at first outraged but later felt comfort in the loneliness of nature.  We took to the hills, the mountains really, and saw the place where clouds become as prevalent as street cats, equally sneaking around corners escaping the corners of our eyes.  The sky is magic and it feels so close in Oaxaca.  A sketchy roadblock and a quick decision to follow a detour lead us on a wild ride which ended well and in the company of a friendly storekeeper who admits he never gets to talk to foreigners.  This is where it feels great, to communicate and represent your country, at least it should be if our new president didn't come up in conversation.. shit.. be real, be true and keep your head up when speaking to people.  "We don't talk about politics in my home", I'm greeted after being noticeably uncomfortable.  

The people of Mexico have been so warm to us.  God, I really love it here.  Is this still a secret? That our neighbors to the south have residence in our same community?  You are the ambassador and you are the example of your culture that represents myriads of perspectives each playing a small role in a greater entity.  Yet, I love it here and i am up to the challenge.  

Today I watched the fires of the sky drown into the silver waves below.