Postcard from Mazunte to Myself in Six Months’ Time

Dear self in six months’ time,

Wasn’t that a fun day in Mazunte? Wasn’t that a great end to a great Easter vacation (apart from the eight hours each way on a bus)?

You’ve been in New York for a few months now. It must be getting really cold, and your shitty student sharehouse is probably not very sympathetic. The romance of the city is probably wearing off and you probably hate all the things you used to love, like interesting flannel shirts. You’ve probably stopped pretending that you’re not going to eat ramen every night. I hope you’ve at least found some decent Korean stuff.

Are you enjoying your grand return to uni? Is it turning out to be all you’d hoped? I know asking questions in postcards is pointless, but I can’t help it. I do a lot of wondering.

I want you to remember this moment. As it gets colder and you find out just how much stuff you can’t afford to do in New York, remember this moment in Mazunte at the end of Easter vacation. Remember the beach and its rough waves. Remember the sun. Remember the cheap beer, the food vendors, and the books that kicked your mind about. All the things you’d spent two glorious years discovering.

Remember the girl. More than anything remember the girl. You wouldn’t have gone to Mazunte if it wasn’t for her. As if you could possibly forget her anyway.

I hope you are well, self in six months’ time. I hope NY is being good to you, although I doubt it is being as good as Mexico was. Lay off the ramen every once in a while. I know you’re a poor student, but that shit will kill you. And buy yourself a coat; stop trying to layer up; you look like a hobo.

See you soon,

Phil