THIS ASPEN GIRL
Here's an old post from Huckleberry Tea. Don't worry she be givin' us the new stuff soon.

Love at First Trip: Lessons Learned in Sayulita

Day 1, Lesson 1
No more tequila shots.
For me, too much tequila causes crying and other irrational behavior, even in Mexico, well especially in Mexico it seems. No bueno, no more.

Day 2, Lesson 2
The shrimp burrito at the Crusty Crab is not to be missed.
Loupe and Dalia whip up great guacamole, but their shrimp burrito is one of the best things that I have ever put in my mouth. I can not describe it, I can only assure you that it transcends any notions that you may have about burritos and it is worth the trip to Sayulita alone. Muy bueno. (I bet that you thought Lesson 2 would be about hangovers given the subject of Lesson 1, but technically that would not be a lesson, since I have already “learned” the hangover lesson many times over).

Day 3, Lesson 3
Sometimes, when you are falling out of love the best therapy is watching your friend fall into love, literally.
My friend Beanie is single and was looking for more than just a tan on our vacation. Nothing serious, just someone with whom she might share a few tequila shots, sunset walks on the beach, and moonlit smooches. Since I was on vacation with my ex (boy/ friend) and thus neither coupled nor on the prowl, I made the perfect wingman.
While walking on the beach, keeping our eyes open for cute beach fling prospects, we ran into Cute Pomeroy Guy, who I met when he sold me new skis after the ACL tear (I figured that buying new skis was like getting back on the horse). As I introduced him to Beanie she tripped on a rock and nearly fell head first into him. Short story shorter: She thought that he was cute, Sayulita is small, we were running into Pomeroy Cutie pretty frequently, and they were digging each other (he apparently was not put off by a little klutziness). As it turns out, what started as a sweet nothing in Mexico may turn into a sweet something in Aspen. I am an excellent wingman.

Day 4, Lesson 4
I am over the knee thing.
Enough is enough. The ACL experience has taken its toll, and while I am a better person for it, I am, officially, over it. It is just a ligament after all, one that people tear and repair all of the time. It will encumber my life no more, mind over matter. So I decided that I was going to do what I usually do when I am going through a life adjustment: Something that scares the hell out of me.
A few years ago I ended a long and serious relationship. Soon after, I found myself at the edge of an open airplane door of wearing a parachute. Turns out I love skydiving and now I have over twenty jumps. But for me, a far more terrifying notion than jumping out of a plane is attempting to surf. It is not so much the actual surfing part, but rather it is the falling and being tossed around in powerful moving water part, that gets me. I took a lesson in Maui last year (during a small “what the hell am I doing with my life?” quarter life crisis); my heart raced, I panicked, and each time that I fell I had to muster every ounce of composure to breathe, get back on the board and paddle back out.
The first time that I caught a wave I immediately understood how surfing could transform and consume people’s lives. I will never be a great surfer, not even a good one, but that isn’t the point. So against both my doctor’s orders and the suggestion of my physical therapist, I took my second surfing lesson. My heart raced and I panicked, but I did it, and I even caught a few waves. It felt good. I am, once again, one with my left knee.

Day 5, Lesson 5
Sometimes love is not enough.
As I mentioned, ex-boy/ friend was on this trip with me. For the most part we gave each other plenty of space. I was with the girls playing cupid, and he was with the boys, who did, in deed, go fishing.
But one interesting night found the two of us across town, sitting alone on a friend’s porch as the sun was about to rise. The walk home, through the village at dawn, cleared the air. It was tranquil and sweet and for the first time in a while, honest without being raw. It reminded me of why I love him. It even made me miss him a little.
But the week in Mexico answered any lingering questions that I had about the future of our romantic relationship. For me and my old mate, friends it is. Friends has always been what we do best.

Day 6, Lesson 6
Keep it simple.
Sayulita is a small village north of Puerto Vallarta. There are no big hotels, no ATM machines and not a single person walks around in a G-string bikini selling jello shots or three feet tall cocktails. The most common sounds are crashing waves, laughing children, barking dogs and the cock-a-doodle-doing of roosters. We had no cell phones, no TV’s, and no other mindless distractions. In other words, it was perfect. Plus, showering is optional. Paradise found.

Day 7, Lesson 7
You can find something without even knowing that you lost it.
Ten of us left Aspen, bound for Mexico, relieved that off-season had finally arrived. It was everyone’s first trip to the small Mexican surf town, and I had no idea what we might find in this place called Sayulita.
I love living in Aspen. From the moment that I moved to town I have been going full speed, trying to soak up everything that this valley has to offer. It has, so far, been a fun and wild ride filled with new friends, new experiences and a new mountain lifestyle that I love. I truly cannot imagine wanting to live anywhere else. I have, however, not spent much time being still and quiet in recent months.
In Sayulita, with no distractions and the fortune of being the earliest riser, I spent my mornings outside alone, peacefully looking at the ocean, reminded of how nice quiet sounds. As the sun rose I watched the color of the sky change, and I was, finally, completely still.
I became aware that I had, in many ways, lost sight of myself. And my less than ideal and uncharacteristic behavior in dealing with life’s recent tumult was an indication of just that. I was becoming someone that I don’t want to be. But in the quiet of Sayulita I started listening to myself again, and I got back to being me. I realized that I was not falling out of love; I was falling back in love, with myself.