Whatever, in Chacala

I have been reading about Columbia, and Cartegena. First in the special “South America” edition of “Departures” magazine, and then in an old edition of the Lonely Planet “Central America” book.

I was attracted by several things. Apparently no visa is required. Columbia has both a Caribbean and a Pacific coast, and Cartegena seems to be a neutral zone, the Casablanca of Columbia. And it’s old. With many ruins and buildings from the Spanish “occupation”.

I will keep reading about it. There’s probably something horrible there besides civil unrest and drug stuff and poverty. Like giant snakes or something. Or a paralyzing malaria. And unfortunately, you can’t take the bus there. And apparently there’s no ferries.

Anyway. Whatever. Every three or four months I seem to get the travel urge, but I hardly ever follow up on it. But I am interested in living somewhere with a documented history. Chacala has some history, but it’s not very clear was it is.

Three things about the Chacala area particularly interest me. I have read little tidbits on these topics in local publications. One is the claim that is was the first harbor for moving stuff to and from Guadalajara to the Pacific Ocean. And another is that during “pre-history” in “Chacala” a volcano erupted, leaving the area without residents for a long period of time. What period of time, I don’t know. I also read that in some early history Zacualpan, Las Varas, Alta Vista, and Chacala were considered to be areas where the local people were interested in s spirituality. And the areas to the south, like La Penita and Lo de Marco, etc were the area for war-mongers. Don’t know what that means, but I am curious to keep researching as best I can.

Sometimes I wonder if I was drawn to this area for more than the obvious reasons: gorgeous beaches, wonderful vegetation, lots of food grows here, and nice people, and great weather in the winter. And okay weather in the summer.

The first time I came here (a week or so after hurricane Kenna, in early November 2002), I knew within two second that this was the place for me. Even with all the damage and mess from the hurricane, it just seemed like Chacala was what I had been searching for. And it still feels that way.

The last three evenings I have been especially filled with appreciation for my life here. I have been listening to Adolfo Diaz play the sax, and his wife, Gayin sing my favorite songs each night. Sitting on the hillside at the edge of the “jungle”, with the moon shining down thru the trees, and the waves crashing, I keep being amazed at what a wonderful life I have been given.

I love the saxophone. The cello is my other favorite. Both instruments seem to just come into my heart. I love the sounds they make. And Adolfo makes lovely sounds that go on and on. It takes my breathe away some times. And Gayin is so amazing. She sort of dances when she sings, like a wild woman. She is amazing to hear and watch.

Anyway. This morning I am feeling full of gratitude for this lovely life.