Sometimes you just have to get away from work. I’ve been immersed in all things Mexico for months now. Launching Chip Morris and Carol Karasik’s splendid Maya Threads in Chiapas last spring; traveling with Eric Mindling as he photographed beautiful old women in remote villages of Oaxaca; wrangling his photos and his transfixing stories into a grand book that we’ll publish in the fall; skyping with Sheri Brautigam about her travel experiences to Mexican markets and fiestas, which she’s crafting into a wonderful little travel guide for textile junkies, also to be published this fall. Trying to wrap my tongue around place names like Tlaxiaco and Tlahuitoltepec and Tlacoatzintepec so I won’t make grievous typos.
Let it Be, More or Less
So what do you do when you have had it up to here with a place? You go there. Kind of like curing a hangover—using the hair of the dog that bit you, or pelos de la misma chancha. Dog or pig, same idea. You go and relax and sink into the place and let it be. At least that’s the plan. Husband Thomas and I will be spending a few days on the Pacific coast of Oaxaca with the intention of sprawling in thatched palapas on the beach, eating street tacos, imbibing margaritas, and staring at the ocean. Nothing more.
Except he’s taking his laptop in case he just might want to work on an optics programming project, and I’m taking manuscript pages because, why not? And I just learned that the area where they still make purple dye from sea snails is down the road a little way . . . .