Mexico. Part 3. The naughty bit...

This is intended to be on the verge of scandalous. 

Here we are, round two in Mexico. Same spot, same sand, same crash pad. It's supposed to be eerie, and it is. Picture Zipolite beach: 2km of perfect blend between those who dare to bare and those who are wrapped tighter than a burrito. And at the end of this sandy heaven – Playa del Amor.

Now, you might think, at first sight, that Playa del Amor is exclusively for the LGBTQ crew, but if you squint hard enough, you'll spot some straight couples lost in the beachscape.

So, there I was, trying to chill under the shade of a massive rock on this scorching day. Truth be told, I wasn't on top of my game emotionally or physically. Yes, it was that time of the month, hence the burrito bikini. Let me tell you, that piece of fabric was more uncomfortable than a cactus pillow. It took ages to dry and on top of that, when I was laying on the sand, close enough for a wave to gently brush my body when I was elegantly performing no.1, I would get up with all of the Sahara sand in it. 

A million gloomy thoughts per minute, most of them crash-landed in negativity. I get those a lot lately, and I know their source. But airing it out is difficult. Long story short, I felt like a shipwreck. Joy was a no-show.

Across from me, lounging on a towel, was what seemed to be a woman. Long hair, tiny waist, fit as a fiddle. From certain angles, you could even catch a glimpse of her breasts. She rises, and surprise: she is a he. Or the other way round; they go for a swim, they return, plug in their headphones, and start to dance on their own. They kept at it, surrounded by a sea of people living their best lives. Joy, freedom, peace... all there. And I? I was in "Eastern European" shock.

I'm watching this human of pure energy, envying their zest for life. Meanwhile, I'm stuck in my sandy, grumpy bikini, afraid to strip down because of a tampon thread, the same one that shouted that I was the real deal – a prime, fertile woman. When did inhibition become my jam? Why was I wandering in the desert of self-doubt? Playa del Amor was screaming beauty, tolerance, and peace. It was time to rejoin that club... And I did. 

Bikini off.