The Mexican adventure of February now feels like a very long time ago. But there were stories, oh so many stories to tell from that week in a small town on the Ocean on the West Coast of Mexico. My aim is tell a smattering of them, bit by bit over the next several days and weeks before moving on to my next adventure in the land of fire and ice: Iceland.

Mexico. Day 1.

It was a bumpy ride. And of all the things to think or worry about as you fly down the highway of a developing country on a rickity bus without a seat belt and with the doors half open, my boobs were the only thing on my mind. The ladies were in So. Much. Pain. Sensitive and jolting up and down with every minor bump or pothole. I never would have thought to wear a sports bra for travel, but I may as well have been on a trampoline the way this bus bounced down the Mexican highway towards the small surf town of Sayulita, where boyfriend and I would spend our next 6 days.

So with one hand holding my breasts in place and the other holding the hand of boyfriend, down the road we went. And it was glorious. The smell of the Mexican air, the exotic scenery outside the bus; sometimes taco stands on dirt patches on the side of the road, sometimes jungle and at one point a Walmart. All the while we were buzzing with the anticipation of a week in paradise and a week together. The inside of the bus too was full of plenty of characters, themselves a pleasant distraction from the hour long journey. A Mexican cowboy singing along to his music box, the women who got on and off at each stop selling fruits and sweets to the passengers, the gringos mixing with the natives and the old woman well past her prime bikini years rockin' hot pants and looking for a beach. We had made it. We'd gotten through all the planning and anticipation and the New York winter and we were here,finally, in Mexico. What a silly and wonderful way to begin our adventure, riding in a bus on a Mexican highway.