the dirty laundry show

After a three-year travel hiatus during and post-COVID (aside from a smattering of US road trips), we’ve ventured out to explore Mexico for the month of March. I can’t believe how terrifying it felt to dive back into international adventures. I’m honestly a little ashamed to admit how many hours we spent poring over Reddit and Internet blog sites or inquiring of friends as to whether or not we should do this. Not just because air travel felt unfamiliar, after all this time, but because Mexico itself carries a lot recent lore about Americans disappearing or dying. I say lore because, while some of the stories are reported as true on the news, they are true mostly of border towns or big cities. Tulum, we have found, is another situation entirely. And you can’t sum up a country based on its worst parts (though we all seem very prone to do so). It’s like saying the entire US is dangerous because people are murdered in Baltimore. Just don’t go to Baltimore.

In any case, with one foot behind the other, we boarded the planes, crossed the border, and arrived in Tulum by way of Cancun. And I’m so glad we didn’t listen to the myriad folks who warned us against this. Not necessarily because they’re wrong about Mexico, but because travel maybe isn’t in their blood the way it is in ours. They don’t assess the risks in the same way I might. The trip just isn’t worth it. For me, it’s life or death. I didn’t realize that until we got here and I felt parts of myself begin to come alive again. That sounds so dramatic and “Eat, Pray, Love,” but it’s true. I love a good road trip, but international travel holds a different magic. It puts you in situations so literally foreign that the dumber parts of your brain are forced to shut up. The parts that obsess over fears and worries that don’t exist, socially or otherwise. The chattering part that gets carried away with utter nonsense – particularly in the doldrums of a long Montana winter – convincing you of realities that don’t exist.

When we arrived, of course, I was in full panic mode. Every sight and sound was new. It was night, and everything feels scarier at night. We had already experienced a brush at the Cancun airport with what I’m 95% sure was the transportation industry cartel and were bilked out of $250 within the first 30 minutes of our stay. Then, we drove the 1.5 hours to Tulum in chaotic Mexican traffic, with periodic sightings of militia men carrying AR’s at the side of the road. We were exhausted, so my body wasn’t feeling great. I had zero mental strength to battle the thoughts that my worst fears would happen: one of us would drink contaminated water and wind up in a Mexican hospital. We’d end up kidnapped and murdered- a warning story that would give people good reason to say “I told you so.”

That was night one. This is day 14. During the two-week interlude, an essential internal shift occurred. I’ve gotten used to trading out our giant jugs of water at the local food store for $2 a pop. I’ve adjusted to soaking all of our dishes and produce in Bactericide to kill all the yucks. I’ve even made it through the two instances in which we did come close to digestive peril: once when Junie ate an unwashed piece of celery, and once when we all swam in a cenote polluted with bat poop (hello, e-coli). Thank God for charcoal pills. We survived. We’re more aware of our surroundings now. And, most importantly, we’ve got some good stories to tell – our own and those we’ve heard from fellow travelers. Why else do we travel?

We’ve kept up our school along the way, thanks to apps like IXL, BrainPop Jr, and Duolingo. It’s been really cool to practice our Spanish (what very little we know). And the kids are keeping daily journals to continue practice writing. It’s been amazing to see their progress (especially Junie’s). Joey’s been tearing through the books he brought, so now we’re trying to convince him to read ours (which are quite a bit larger). We’ll see if he goes for it. Nick and I have been talking a lot about our plans for next year – homeschool or not. We do this every year. I’m sure it gets exhausting for our friends to hear about. The decision feels so weighty. What if we completely ruin these kids by trying to teach them ourselves… or putting them in the hands of another teacher? What seems like the “right” decision changes frequently, based on the day, the season, the weather outside, what we had for lunch…

I would personally love to homeschool next year and travel more. This will require Nick’s equal partnership in the task (or, rather, my allowing him to be an equal partner; something I tend to make difficult by strong-arming control over everything and then agonizing over why he isn’t more involved). It will also require a certain amount of income earned by a freelance, flexible schedule job. I’ve got that currently, but the work isn’t quite as reliable as I’d like. These are all aspects worth praying hard over and seeing what develops. I realize that my wanting something doesn’t make it the right course of action, however I also wonder at the purpose of these desires in my heart- whether they are planted with the intention of being fulfilled or at least striven toward.

That’s a thought for another day and time; something to hold a bit of space for while I enjoy the people and experiences of today. On that note, I’ll be recording our Mexico experiences here instead of on social media. I awoke last week to an email informing me I’ve been unceremoniously kicked off of Facebook (because someone hacked my account and then posted things which violated its community standards). When I looked into options for recourse, I happened upon a blog post by a woman in the same situation who was ultimately unable to get any of her content back – it was just gone. Years’ worth of family photos and life experiences. Poof. Her response was to reopen an entirely new Facebook account and start over. I find myself feeling oddly free without it. And after trusting decades of my life to a company that clearly couldn’t care less (aside from the user data I provide), I sure as hell am not going to repeat my mistake.

Luckily, I’ve still got this blog, where I’ve recorded hundreds of stories from when the kids were little until recently. I’ve always held a special place in my heart for my earliest (decidedly unpaid) work putting together The Dirty Laundry Show and secretly harbored a curiosity as to whether it would ever see a re-boot. It seems the time has come. My game plan is to record our memories here, then upload small pieces of them to social media. Maybe. I’m pretty pissed at the whole system right this moment. But sometimes, it feels like ya gotta play the game – at least a little bit – in order to succeed in today’s world.

This is where I’ll hang out while I ponder.

For those of you willing to entertain my nonsense, welcome. To those who put up with my previous musings, welcome back.