Montañita, Ecuador
Nov 14-22, 2022
Days 15 - 23
I spent a week in Montañita and the days blurred together into one long seaside memory. The days were overcast with a few hours of hazy sun that shone strongly on the long beach strip on the southern Pacific coast of Ecuador. The sand was soft and fine, the waves a continuous ebb and flow. I stayed in La Punta, a neighborhood north of the town, wanting more quiet and meditation over the continuous party for which Montañita is known.
My first day in Montañita I did yoga in the morning, surfing in the afternoon, and a deep-tissue massage in the evening. As it sometimes goes, something came up this first day that kept me in my bed for the following days. In my room, I slept, journaled, and watched Netflix, venturing out only for small meals and tea. I slept for many hours soaking in the healing power of this restorative place. As my strength came back, I felt lonely in my solo room and decided to move next door to Casa del Sol hostel. I paid $15/night for my dorm bed, which was more than other places but worth it as I spent most nights alone in the upper loft room, doors and windows open, the ocean lulling me to sleep.
If you’re wondering if I get lonely traveling alone the answer if of course I do. I do feel sad and sometimes I miss home. But then I remember loneliness is not a symptom of alone-ness. I’ve been lonely at a table of friends and laying in bed with a partner. I once read that loneliness is a sign you’re in need of yourself. I’ve gotten into the habit of pointing things out to myself when walking down the street, having conversations with myself when I’m bored, sometimes in Spanish, for practice. I hold my own hand when I want physical touch. My journal and my Kindle provide great company. But the truth is when I want to talk or hang out with people, there is always, always someone just waiting for me to say hello. I’ve met many people and it’s easy to connect, especially since we can always start with where are you from, where have you gone, and where are you going. If I meet someone who I don’t particularly like it’s easy to move on. The only person I’m stuck with is myself. And as I’m continually growing and evolving, I get to meet myself anew every day.
Movement is my favorite remedy for sadness. With hiking, the path exists and you take a step forward or turn back. With the ocean, you exist and the waves come towards you, you either go over them, into them, or with them.
I feel strong on the water. Surfboard under me, paddling into the already broken white wash, one-two-three. There’s a push, I take a breath, I look up just above my board, I’ve caught the wave. Hands at my rib cage, exhale, push up. Left foot, right foot, stay low. I’m doing it. I feel infinite, powerful, magical. Standing. I fall now, maybe I’ve already fallen. Maybe I keep riding. No thoughts. Pure present moment, I’m smiling. The wave dies, my fins nearly touching the sand. I step off, look around, the other girl is waving, whoo hoo!
After movement, food is the next best remedy. Prices in Montañita fluctuate. Some days, I eat almuerzo for $3.50 which include juice, choice of soup, and a fish or meat plate. On others, I crave a big salad, tacos, or pad Thai (seriously so good) which were usually closer to $10. The included breakfast at the hostel was wholesome and delicious, always easily adjusted to be gluten-free. I shared many meals with my new friends Hazel, Nick, and Farah and was nourished by the company and conversation as much as the food itself.
As a group, we had long conversations about love and relationships, holding space for each other to share stories of where we’ve been, what we believe, and what we hope to manifest. As the youngest in the group, all of them in their 30s, they pushed back when I said, half jokingly, that I don’t believe in love anymore. I was too young to give up, they told me. As we spent more time together getting to know each other with astounding honesty and vulnerability for a group who just met, we came to understand that love is not something to believe or not believe in, but it’s all around us waiting for us to call it into our lives.
Don’t want it, but be open to it, but don’t look for it, but see it when it’s there, but don’t obsess over it… Nick and I would laugh at the contradicting advice we’ve received over the years. We unpacked my choice to be celibate on this trip. I drew a comparison to cold swimming. To jump into freezing water, we must train the breath, mind, and body to be able to do things that are not natural. This is similar to choosing celibacy, the process of training my mind to relate to men in non-compulsive ways. It’s natural, as in, human nature, to look for mating opportunities when we meet people. Our bodies produce hormones, pheromones, testosterone and what-nots, needing to find a mate to survive. We’re not supposed to jump into freezing water; we are supposed to mate. But what happens when we train our minds and bodies into doing the opposite. Spending time in freezing water is proven to release all sorts of good things for the mind and body. Choosing to take the energy once consumed by men and putting that energy into other things because I am deciding not to give men that energy is also proving to do well for my mind and body. Perhaps this is what it means to allow the universe to come to you… but that’s a story for another post.
My time in Montañita came to an end with lots of hugs before boarding a bus to Guayaquil to catch an evening flight. Next stop… Lima, Peru!
