Dear Joanie,
I left Birmingham at 4 o’clock Sunday morning, March the 12th. Coco took me to the airport, and I got on a plane, first to Houston, and then to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. But that was not the end of my trip. When I landed in Puerto Vallarta, a car took me to the Puerto Magico, where I waited for a little boat to take me to Xinalani, which is where I’ve been for almost a week and where, now, I’m getting ready to return to Boulder.
This is the view from my room:
I have had almost a full week of dancing NIA and practicing yoga, and reuniting with friends, some of whom I haven’t see since the COVID-19 shutdown.
My days have gone like this: I wake up at 7am, and head down to the restaurant, where I get coffee and head right back to my room. That trip alone involves 8 flights of stairs, a “flight” consisting of about 16 steps. No elevators here at Xinalani, where the landscape is either beach or jungle on the side of a cliff. I spend a lot of time going up and down stairs. I drink my morning coffee in bed, as I wake up to the sound of the surf, looking out on the view in the picture.
Then I put on my dancing/yoga tights, climb even higher on this cliff, to the “Jungle Studio,” for dance. That lasts about an hour and a half—just in time for breakfast at 10am. The jungle studio is open air for three walls. The restaurant is also open air. It gets hot here, but we feel the ocean breezes all day long.
Right now, I’m watching a little boat approach the shore to let off passengers. Just as I did, those passengers will need to take off their shoes and roll up their jeans and slip over the side of the boat to wade ashore. Strong young men pull the boat closer to shore, but it’s wading nonetheless. Those same strong young men collect the luggage, hoisting it over their shoulders, and guide the guests through the sand, up about three flights of stairs, to check in.
But back to my day. I get some yogurt, fruit, and granola; toast some bread; and get the good, strong coffee and sit down with the other dancers, about 25 of us, mostly from the states, but some also from abroad. They are an amazing group of women, all great lovers of dance, many of whom are teachers. I am by far the oldest in the group (at age 83), but there is a woman here in her 70s. Then, the rest are in their 60s and below.
On days like today, lunch is at 2:30. We meet again at 5:30 for dance or yoga, and then dinner, which tonight will be on the beach, is at 7:30pm. Fridays are special at Xinalani, with dinner on the beach, featuring the best of Mexican food, including tortillas made on the spot. Tonight there will also be salsa dancing in the bar. I’ll probably skip that.
Tomorrow, I wade back to the boat, that will take me and others back to Puerto Vallarta, where most of us will head home. All the time I’ve been gone, Shelby has been boarded at Cottonwood Kennels and Your Great-Aunt Julie has been staying with Dougie. I hear everyday that they are “fine.” But now I’m getting really homesick to see them.
You belong to a family of beach people, Joanie, and at your young age, you’ve spent time on beaches as well. Since I was a little girl, I have spent much, much time on the Gulf Of Mexico, and, as an adult, I’ve been to beaches in California, Oregon, Washington, Florida, all along the East Coast, as well as in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Italy. And France. Also Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and, lastly, Viet Nam. The ocean and the beach calm our souls, I think I may write a separate chapter on beaches, Joanie.
But for now, it’s almost 2:30, and that means lunch. So I’m going four flights of stairs down to get a fresh green salad with, I hope, mangos.
Love,
GG Katie
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