I'm all packed and ready to leave the AirBnB I've been in here in the historic part of San Jose del Cabo. I took a crowded bus to the airport last night and rented a car for one day so I'll put my luggage in the trunk and do some last-minute sightseeing before heading over to my 3:45 flight.
There's a quirky nostalgic pining that happens on departures. Can't I live in a world of novelty forever? No. No, of course not. In time, this peripatetic life becomes laborious rather than exciting. (If you don't believe me, you haven't been reading those MariesWorldTour entries I've posted in the past.) But I feel that pining right now. Why must I return to Burbank?
My weekdays there are identical to here. I go to meetings on my laptop. But in the evenings here, I've made an effort to try a different restaurant every night. I haven't given a single thought to the impact of a steady diet of complex molé sauces and tortillas, or to the costs on each menu. I've walked every morning and every night, peering into shadows and making a reflexive list in my head of every neighborhood taco stand and food truck. (In case you think the walking offsets the eating, it doesn't really work like that, but walking IS good for you.)
I walk around sometimes in Burbank, but I've seen those corners so many times. I zone out and don't even look anymore. And I let the daily emergencies of my job get the better of me there, delaying my evening walks until suddenly it's too late to go out. I'll make an effort the next few weeks in Burbank before I migrate east for what might well be my last opportunity to WFH in this strange and wonderful and horrible way we've all been living the last 14 months.
Time for me to check out and go searching for adventure along the coast near San Jose del Cabo. Tomorrow, I can search for novelty on the shelves of Vons, or in Bob Hope Park.