A Walk in the Jungle

San Pancho, population 2000 or so depending on the season, doesn’t really offer a lot of options when it comes to exercise: no gym, no Pilates, no Jazzercise, no spinning, no step. Even the beach is no good for swimming much of the time, thanks to an undertow. What we do have is a rutted unpaved road, full of steep ups and downs , that cuts through the jungle for miles. So Gail, Nancy, and I use it most mornings for an hour and a half walk that is a serious workout.

Ex-joggers, we know what a brisk pace feels like, and we spur each other on, barely noticing the spectacular scenery---chacalaca birds swooping through the trees above, surf pounding the sandy coves below, coconut palms leaning over the road along our route. The walk is good, and the talk is even better. We have a lot to talk about, sixty-somethings with multiple marriages, kids, and careers under our belts.

“What were the odds,” we often say to each other, “that we’d find kindred spirits in a tiny town in Mexico?”

Actually, the odds were pretty good, because of something else we have observed here. When you don’t have a lot of choices, you appreciate more the ones you have been given. So when a local baker makes whole wheat bread, a mom-and-pop grocery installs an ATM, or a cell phone tower appears on a nearby hill, you’re thrilled. Just as a former exercise class dropout like me savors a walk in the jungle with two friends I hold dear.

___________________________________________________________________

Mexican expression:
“Es más para allá que para acá.” S/he’s over the hill.