Riding on the coattails of my San Miguel visit, I’m diving into another deeply magical and unbelievably special place I visited during my time spent frolicking through central Mexico, the colorful city of Guanajuato. I wince at the thought of how embarrassingly long it’s taken to even attempt writing these, but the truth is for so long I just hadn’t been ready to processes things. It’s been nearly three years since I set the world ablaze and fled New York to decompress in peace away from all the noise, and still not a week goes by where I’m not dozing off into those brisk and quiet summer evenings – pretending that if I close my eyes for long enough, I’ll be back there with my camera and my boy. Living a completely different life.

Without further ado, I’m thrilled to detail the quiet weekend we spent exploring the maze-like mining wonder, capital city of Guanajuato in Guanajuato Mexico.

Born from the boom of a silver vein that once ran deep into the mountains, this historic city sets itself apart with uniquely stacked buildings full of color and endless alleys that weave throughout the entire range. What’s more, Guanajuato has become such a popular destination for travelers from all over the country, its entire infrastructure is set up to accommodate year-round tourism complete with rentable multi-day tour guides and city-wide performances in key landmarks taking place around the clock. Interestingly enough, Osmar and I had both visited with our families a couple of years prior, but agreed it might be a good idea to give the city another try and experience it without needing to lug a dozen family members up and down the winding streets. And boy am I glad we did.

We drove into the city early on a Friday morning, arriving no later than fifteen past noon. From the distance, you can start to see tiny colorful buildings as they sprinkle themselves into the mountains, with a fast gradient increase growing larger the closer you get. Turning the corner on a sharp mountainside curve, we were suddenly zooming through a dark elongated tunnel that seemed to stretch out for miles up ahead –we’d entered the heart of the mountain. Moments later, the world returned to light and the sun flooded our eyes to reveal rows upon rows of tiny stacked vibrant structures that confirmed our arrival. A breath-taking sight to behold.

Right in the nick of time, our host wrote to confirm the reservation access codes, choosing only then to inform us we’d find the unit atop a local cafe right near the city center. In order to access the room, you’d enter the cafe like a customer and make your way up the stairs at the far end next to the checkout counter. It was like pulling up to a movie set. Though the city can be reached by various means of transportation, I 100% recommend storing your vehicle in a parking garage if you’re driving in like we did. Strangely but efficiently, there are only two major parking structures for visitors wishing to stay near the city center (especially safe overnight parking), and if you miss your exit on the main road like we did, you’ll have to loop the entire perimeter to get back in… It’s odd, I know, but makes complete sense given the roads are so incredibly narrow, and were designed for a much lighter vehicle flow. A large portion of the city’s traffic is, in fact, diverted to an intricate underground tunnel system that was once used as a major flooding alternative and there’s practically no cell service once you dip underground, so if you don’t want to be like us and wind around helplessly until you finally find the right exit, I’d recommend planning ahead.

We eventually made it back to the main visitor parking garage, paid for the nights ahead, dumped our vehicle, and reset our emotions for the unofficially official start of our weekend stay. Finally.

Shortly after parking, we emerged from the garage, luggage and backpacks in hand, ready to take on the maze. The city was finally at our feet. And the way Guanajuato humbled me a mere matter of seconds after stepping foot on its streets, hit so fast it nearly made my head spin. Right off the bat, I really don’t think there’s such a thing as stoplights in this city given motorized vehicles are mostly discouraged, and instead people move primarily by foot. But when you do encounter a road, you’re left to fend for your ankles as incoming traffic makes little to no effort to slow down, and you pretty much have to frogger your way from one edge of the road to the other. So of course imagine my glamorous self flailing across the road with my tiny little away bag tumbling loudly on the uneven roads.

Roadside spectacles aside, the city does welcome you on in with open arms. I kept having to pull over and park my belongings on the floor just to snap a couple photos of the breathtaking architecture and colors in sight. We could’ve easily come back after dropping our things off at the AirBnb, but I was way too eager to start documenting the whole lot of it. A literal child in a candy store’s worth of colors taking shape up and down the roads.

We pulled up to the coffee shop listed on the map, and just like the host had instructed, found the staircase at the back of the establishment next to the register. Up and around the winding concrete stairs that came so close to the ceiling you had to duck to miss hitting your head on the last top steps, a baby blue hallway opened up with a row of half-opened metal windows lining up the left wall and about a dozen panel wooden doors facing each respectively on the right. A bright checkered floor reminded me of our kitchen back in New York, and a tall set of doors at the far end of the hallway proved to finally be our room… perfect perfect perfect.

Through the creakiest doors I’ve heard in a while, a newly renovated sun-soaked space greeted us to reveal the most charming unit, complete with two queen-sized beds, a small desk and kitchenette, as well as some large floor-to-ceiling windows that opened out to the main plaza immediately downstairs. Quaint, and charming, and not at all ostentatious, this small corner studio would house the lot of we two for the next couple of nights, and I for once had zero complaints. We couldn’t have been there for more than twenty minutes before I was itching to get out again. And you already know the next stop on my list was food.

Listed atop every food blog and travel board I’d researched ahead of our trip were these infamous Enchiladas Mineras that everyone vouched you absolutely couldn’t miss. A variation on the traditional country-wide staple enchilada recipe that substitutes carrots in place of cheese, this local favorite earned its name for being incredibly popular among silver miners who returned to the surface when it was time for a lunch break. Cheap, easy, fast, and incredibly flavor-packed, these were absolutely our first stop.

I’ve written about the dream-like state that often finds me in the middle of my trips, where for some unspecified period of time things somehow just don’t completely fall apart at every corner, and instead figure themselves out on their own. This was that point on the trip, –and for once, I think it actually lingered. The restaurant we’d been seeking was set up in such a way that the first floor was entirely designated for kitchen space, leaving the second completely open for seating and mountain views. And without even needing to request it, we were seated on a window balcony–the only one in the establishment if you’d believe.

A double order of their signature Enchiladas Mineras confirmed that the rave reviews had been completely spot on. I don’t really know what it is about how they cook the carrots, but it was a completely different flavor profile, and one that I often still find myself wishing I could replicate back home in New York. We ate, snapped some photos of the view, and made our way down the town for a leisurely evening stroll.

Among the many things you might love about Guanajuato, one will definitely be how incredibly walkable the whole stretch of it is. Rows upon rows of stacked buildings and colorful houses create tiny little alleyways that weave through the entire city, making it completely accessible by foot, but also infusing it with an unmatched air of whimsy that makes you feel like you’re journeying through some foreign fairytale in a colorful far off land. We headed north following our exit, walking almost directly into the heart of the city. As is typical for most historic and preserved cities you might visit in Mexico, a main square and plaza denotes the center-most point of the entire estate complete with businesses, eateries, and sometimes even live music to enjoy. It’s undoubtedly one of those familiar atmospheres that makes you smile by simply hanging around.

We walked some more, popping in and out of businesses as they each dialed our attention, before finally making our way over to one of the city’s top destinations, the overlook mountain view and market. As I mentioned before, the entire town sits on the lowest part of the mountainside, so anything that isn’t directly in the town center is almost inevitably posted up for a view. The lookout sits atop a sharp mountainside flat sitting immediately next to the city, and boasts a historic religious statue locals believe watches over the entire district from above. Also noted earlier, tourism is top of mind in Guanajuato, so making your way up to the lookout is a complete breeze. The tourism board operates a rail car system that runs a two-way rail route for visitors to easily make their way up and down the mountain. Tickets are purchased in fifteen-minute increments to avoid crowding, and before you know it you’re making your way up on a picturesque ascent.

Once up there, a wide array of shops, vendors, and assorted food carts fill the uphill area leaving only the edge of the concrete balcony free for visitors to mingle about. Helpless to the scent of grilled eats, I made my way over to a woman selling roasted elotes, striking up light conversation before collecting our goodies and finding a bench to enjoy with the view. It was a damn good elote and the backdrop left little words to be said.

Views seen and treats vanquished, we decided to head back down before the sun fully ducked out – I don’t usually make it a point to spend too much time exploring new places in the nighttime, and given we had a packed itinerary set for the following day, it made sense to duck out and rest.

An ice cream shop with a colorful exterior would mark our last official stop of the day, each of us grabbing two scoops of some flavor that currently escapes me (though knowing myself, it was either coffee or vanilla) for what must’ve been something around under three dollars total for both. A tiny set of scattered tables provided limited indoor seating, so instead we opted for the small bench that sat immediately outside the shop entrance, and gleefully pretended to neither notice that it was (clearly) placed for decorative purposes, nor to mind the rare opportunity we’d been given to comfortably people-watch. This must’ve been the first time I noticed the large groups of people who had started to roam around in –what thanks to some quick googling I can correctly identify as– what is historically described as a mid century lute suit. Think Lord Farquaad in black velvet and holding an antique instrument of sorts. I’d seen a couple of them walking the streets earlier that day (you can spot them in the pictures) but figured they just belonged to some kind of immersive live theatre experience. Except now there was dozens of them.  

Our doubts quickly extinguished after a member of their suited entourage spotted our curious gazes and walked over to ask if we’d care to join their upcoming moonlight alley crawl. Some quick queries later, we learned that –like so many other things the tourism board puts together to promote visitor foot-traffic– the city has become famous for its late night alley tours or callejoneadas (a colloquial term rooted in the word callejón) where these fittingly-dressed guides take you around historic and lore-insfused alleys, with fully produced musical performances, re-enactments, and even audience participation in store. This is probably something I’d love to do return and do, but seeing as I didn’t have any immediate context to confirm the validity of the invite, nor was I completely sure about how queer-friendly this arguably smaller town was (we’d only been there for a couple hours after all) we decided to skip and head home.  

Strangely but absolutely not unnoticed, one of my favorite aspects of this trip was our AirBnb’s proximity to good brunch spots. Not only was it nice to run out at 8am to grab a light breakfast and good cup of coffee before the wave of tourists had a chance to flood the lines, the proximity to a comfortable and private toilet post-coffee was life changing. We were but a mere five minute walk back to the Airbnb, so running home post-breakfast to properly get ready and comfortably use the restroom was pretty much the MO from day one. And lord christ almighty jesus did it make a difference. I’m really not the biggest on potty humor, but fully believe it’s worth noting given it absolutely changed how I’ve planned future trips. It goes without saying that our diets shift almost instantly when on a trip, and at least for me, it’s been a huge source of uncertainty in the past. The last thing you want to be is worried about how you’ll find a formidable bathroom instead of focusing on all the new sights a travel destination has to offer.

Needless to say, we brunched right down the street that morning before heading back to shower, fully get ready for the day, and heading back out again around the time the town really started to buzz itself to life. Following our early breakfast, the first place on my list was a street market I’d been eyeing from afar earlier that morning as we ate. What originally seemed like a single street vendor posted up in an open clearing, quickly turned into a buzzing market full of quaint local artifacts and handcrafted goods. Allowing myself to sink into the hum of other fellow wandering shoppers, I mindlessly perused from shop to shop stopping only near the end where my two favorite souvenirs finally emerged from the crowd: dainty rings and leather goods. I spoke to both shop owners before finally deciding that –despite how badly I was a craving a new messenger bag for all things travel– perhaps splurging on a non-essential treat wasn’t the best idea during peak unemployment. I moved along until finally running out of market to explore and promptly began my return to Osmar who remained just where I’d last left him –trapped trying on every last frame at some millennial over-aestheticized summer eyewear sunglasses brand.  

Realizing we’d been gifted with much cooler weather than expected, I shifted what should’ve been an end-of-day stroll across town to a post-breakfast early noon walk. There’s a handful of key spots that kept popping up during my pre-travel prep searches that essentially form one gigantic loop around the city center, so a brisk morning stroll with perfect weather felt like just the right occasion to start knocking them out. First on the list, the alley of the kiss.

Unable to court as they didn’t belong to the same social class, the legend goes on to describe the alley of the kiss as the one place in the city where the two could meet in secret and under the cloak of night to share a kiss from two adjoining balconies. A long line of tourists forms right outside the alley, as visitors patiently await their turn to make their way up to each balcony and share a special kiss of their own. Very cute but quite the wait… so off we went. I was far from interested in discovering how they might react if two guys suddenly popped out of each balcony side.

Next on our list, the University of Guanajuato. The towering historic structure pairs intricate stone details with an outstretched and majestic staircase to create a look that feels like something straight out of a fairytale. Small clusters of students scattered themselves across the stairs for what I could only guess were breaks between classes, and street vendors made their way over from one to the next, announcing their perfect mid-lunch hour goodies and flavorful snacks. I wasn’t too sure if the building interior was open for visitors, but seeing as we had a handful of items still left on our list –not to mention covid restrictions were in peak cycle– we headed on out. Tucked away neatly one block directly behind the mesmerizing university building, a second structure of unbelievable proportions emerges: a Church housing the local chapter of the San Felipe Neri Oratory in Guanajuato –an extremely nuanced portion of Roman Catholic history I’m only remotely familiar with because it belongs to the same chapter that modeled my childhood years suffering through the nightmare that is Catholic school. Go figure falls short.

Traumatic childhood memories powering through mindless indoctrination aside, I never fail to seek out local churches given their undeniable mark on history and equally unmatched architectural wonders. This structure set itself apart with its bellowing limestone arches and intricate concrete designs. I never fully uncovered just what kind of particular stone the church had been built with, but distinctly remember feeling a notable drop in temperature the moment we stepped inside. With no type of air conditioning tech in sight, and massive open doors greeting us right at the entrance, I can only guess that the church’s cool stone was the responsible culprit for keeping the atmosphere feeling so refreshingly light.

We knocked out a couple more spots on the map –hidden fountains, secret plazas, and a handful of notable alleys– before finally committing to the farthest destination on our route, the mummy museum. Quite possibly the next most famous aspect of visiting Guanajuato, the mummy museum was something I’d been hearing about since before I was even old enough to know what a human mummy actually was. And god almighty how I wish I hadn’t….

Though I’m sure there’s more than a decent explanation for how this magical city came to also distinguish itself as a home to some of the country’s most famous mummies, the truth is it just wasn’t for me. The museum itself teeters an interesting line between respectful and downright halloween store-like, with some exhibits featuring tasteful displays of historic artifacts and… well people, while others push it a little to far with the strobe light arrangements and phony sound effects. One thing’s for sure, the mummy displays are not for the faint of heart. Something about the preserved expressions in what are essentially centuries-old corpses made for a nauseated experience that I eventually ended up terminating abruptly. Must’ve sped through at least the last ten rooms, and I don’t regret it one bit. Left and done, that was that.

Having emerged to some much needed sunlight and fresh air, I called over an Uber and found a nearby bench to wait by with Osmar. Here’s a moment I’ll take to point out the importance of self awareness throughout travel, specifically international hops where you might be at a bigger disadvantage when it comes to reading your surroundings. Though we’d initially walked from the city center for what was about a thirty-ish minute stroll up and down the winding streets, I’d definitely say this was one walk I would’ve skipped had I known what it entailed. Was it terrifyingly dangerous with vandals and thieves popping up at every corner? No. But it was emptier than any of the other areas, and definitely felt like the kind of place you might get pickpocketed with no one around to help. Needless to say, a car ride ensued a much nicer return to town square.

Despite having just witnessed at least a dozen displays of stomach-turning history, our next immediate stop was –believe it or not– food… and boy was I hungry. I’ve heard about the formaldehyde effect that makes people crave meat, and though I’m almost entirely certain that the mummies were nothing but dried up flesh and salt, something about escaping them seemed to work up just about the perfect appetite. Second atop some of the city’s most recommended eateries, was a local joint that sat near the city center edge known for its incredibly crisp and tangy fish tacos. Believe you me, the irony of escaping one pungent stench only to run right back into another was not lost on me then, nor is now. Yet cravings analytics aside, I can fully confirm our four massive tacos with a side of ceviche and fresh lemonade were nothing short of citrusy seafood perfection. A must-try if you happen to survive the mummy displays.

Happily stuffed, we made our way back to town square just in time to catch golden hour –my favorite time of the day. Aside from shooting early morning when the light is soft and the world is just starting to wake up, sunset and pre-sunset light are my absolute favorites to capture while abroad. Something about the way the sun paints everything golden, makes for some of the warmest most gilded scenes around, and it never fails to make me smile when we happen to catch it while out and about. As can be more than expected, planning my itineraries around sunlight for the sake of photography alone is almost always entirely unrealistic given I seldom travel with just photographers, and the changes would inevitably make for a very different kind of trip. Instead, I try to make a point of catching it at least once during my trips, and it always makes for an extra rare set that I get to cherish a tiny bit more than the rest.

Needless to say, we bounced around town square, scoping as many light leaks as possible, snagging every last bit of sun before it finally tucked itself in for the night.

It stormed hard that night. Harder than I’d ever seen rain come down in years.

A heavy wind pushed against the set of French doors that let out into our dual balconies, and our front door rattled with belligerent force. The ominous creaking of both felt like something out of a horror movie, and I kept having to get up and make sure that neither had swung open. Someone had forgotten to shut the hallway windows, no doubt –I reassured myself. Eventually, I gave into my nerves and decided to perch up between the balcony doors in the odd chance that the old hinges decided to give out… at least until the winds calmed down.

A good half hour or so passed and my oh so charming prince decided he’d be passing out… His timing impeccable as ever. From the large paneled window, I watched fast-moving tourists scurrying home from the main town square, completely drenched from head to toe. It wasn’t much longer before the streets were clear of people, with nothing but a few swaying streetlights to keep the world somewhat aglow. The sky completely torn to shreds now.

The world went white, then immediately voided itself to pitch black darkness –the power had just gone out.
One moment I’d been looking out the window, and the next I couldn’t see my own hands in front of me. I went cold for a second.From the corner of my eye, a faint glow emerged next to a sleeping Osmar, announcing that his phone was no longer charging –thank god, I winced. Slowly, I crept my way back to where he lay sound asleep, spreading my toes carefully across the cold concrete, weary of jamming them into some astray item that might’ve been left on the floor.

Another strobe of light filled the room, my shadow plastered on the walls like some wicked silhouette.

This was probably the first time in years I’d thought about just how much thunderstorms actually freak me out... Though the thought of snuggling up by an open window with the soothing sounds of a passing storm and a book in hand warm me just as much as the next guy, something about the immediate forced disconnect mixed with the inescapably imposed darkness really shook me. Especially given you’re never really sure if you’ll be out of power for a couple minutes or a couple hours, much less thinking you’re in a tiny historic town whose power lines were probably as old as the mines… it was all just very unnerving.

One rainy night playlist later, the sky wasn’t the only one pouring itself out.

Having zoomed straight out of my toxic work environment and right back into portfolio/personal passion project prep, I realized it’d been a minute since Osmar and I had found a proper moment to catch up with each other. Between the obsessive trip planning, job market scoping, portfolio adjusting, and even “proper” runaway decompressing, I’d lost track of the person who had also uprooted his life to come join me on this wild adventure across the globe.

It was nice, the safety net of it all. Though I’ll admit I have’t found myself to be much of a cryer in recent years, something about the quiet tears I could shed under the cloak of one very distressed environment felt strangely comforting. To be completely frank, I’ve always struggled with the self-serving nature of tears, as I find they almost inherently elicit some kind of reaction from those around us. I realize of course, that this far from the absolute case for everyone that allows themselves to cry about something that brings them to such emotion, but at least for me– have found it almost impossible to do so if I catch even the slightest whiff that I might be benefitting from having witnesses around.

But I was spared from such an audience here, so tears and words could flow.

It remains one of those nights where I can’t quite remember the split between the last word I uttered and the moment I finally welcomed some sleep.

Storm at last subsided, the next morning greeted us with warm rays of sunshine stretching fast across the the wooden flooring before finally perching themselves over my face. Warm, I returned to my window-side post from the night before and surprisedly discovered an unbothered world downstairs. Aside from the rain-soaked cobble, the weather’s rambunctious footprint had almost entirely vanished, the town and its citizens carrying on with seemingly little to no care. Though today was technically check-out day and we’d be leaving the AirBnb early morning, there were still a handful of spots I wanted to visit before finally bidding the city goodbye.

Osmar’s playlist filled the background and I got to work, fully conscious of my tendency to make us both late. Running fast through my morning skincare, I folded clothes between serums, and organized camera gear as the sunscreen set in. We were moving at a good rhythm today.

I ran my fourth or fifth lap around the room to ensure nothing had been forgotten, before grabbing the patient boy waiting quietly outside the door, and pinging our host that the room had officially been promptly locked and the keys returned downstairs.

A tad more familiar with the vehicle patterns as they zoom up and down the roads, I wheeled my carry-on a handful of blocks back to the giant underground parking garage where our car awaited intact. One misfortunate reminder that the structure lacked an elevator systems to carry our bags up to the fourth level later, we crammed as much luggage as the reasonably sized trunk could fit, and ran out before more time could go by. Done and done.

Seeing as we’d no longer be needing to eat close to the Airbnb, I dug up a restaurant that sat on the other side of town and had popped up a ton for not only its extensive sandwich selection, but also its unique seating setup which served most customers atop a second story bridge that runs one alley right over another. I’m not entirely sure how the unique design ultimately came about, but it certainly made for an inventive dining experience. We made our way over, walking a familiar route through town square, and I snapped away eagerly with much excitement to be catching the streets in a dreamy morning light. I’m not usually up and prepped in such early morning hours, so it was a nice to be forced right into it.

As could’ve been expected, the waitlist nearly tripled if we wanted to be seated over the bridge, so instead we opted for indoor seating, agreeing that just getting to see what the fuss was all about was plenty satisfaction. Inside, the restaurant’s interior featured pieces from local artists that displayed prices and contact details for anyone looking to take one home. The sandwiches were mid, but we didn’t complain much. We’d be catching much tastier eats at the market, and at this point we were just looking for an excuse to pretend we’d eaten something before diving into our market-favorite snacks.

Early hours having passed, the city was awake upon our exit. The market was a short ten minute walk from the restaurant but easily took at least twenty, as we weaved through the now again tourist-filled streets and dipped into shops as they grabbed our attention. Soon we arrived outside the renowned city market. With construction dating back to the early 1900’s this massive industrial structure was originally designed as a train station but was never completed due to the revolution and shift in the country’s priorities shortly after in 1910. Now it houses one of the country’s largest markets, full of vendors, eateries, and even entertainers buzzing about. From outside, food vendors shout out to visitors inviting them to stop by their shop on the second and third floors, often identifying them by what they’re wearing, accessories, hairstyles, and even the colors of their clothes. Fun times all around. Once indoors, we weaved through the maze-like corridors that formed between the shop booths, chatting up anyone who welcomed banter, and trying our best to avoid large purchases we’d later struggle to fit in the car. The latter was especially difficult given the endless artisanal pieces, my eyes glued to the hand made pottery, and don’t even get me started on the craftsmanship kitchenware.

I don’t often linger on the angle of travel as it pertains to queer individuals because I work hard to keep it from stealing my peace, but this was one corner and memory where I can’t say I was entirely successful. For context at large, Osmar and I had become pretty adept at restricting any public affection during our travels, as an almost reflex-like behavior that kicked in anytime we were in an open or unfamiliar place. It should go without saying that –despite the progress many western countries like Mexico have made when it comes to queer acceptance– traditionalism and machismo are very much still alive regardless of what we’d like to believe. Needless to say, this was less of a conversation, and more of an unspoken agreement. We were no more than friends who were visiting for the day. Yet safe as that fiction may have sustained us while at play, there were still other moments where I feared the world around me could just… tell. Not that we were together, or maybe not even that I was gay, but just enough that I was different and not in a welcoming way. One wrong look or an uncomfortable lingering glare, and I could feel myself shelling up and looking fast for some reason to scamper.

Not long after arriving, I spotted a quiet hallway sandwiched between the backs of shops that all faced out in the opposite direction. A makeshift back alley, if you will. Quickly shifting my camera’s settings, I handed it to Osmar and asked if he could snap a brief picture that capture the place from behind. Yet for one reason or another, he could’t remember just how to… shoot… Two months of joint travels, and he’d somehow forgotten how to work the damn thing. In the meantime, I stood silently, making prolonged eye contact with some shop owners who had started peeking about. I was starting to get uncomfortable.

What’s the hold up?, I asked with frustration, his face looking bewildered as he struggled to figure it out
Ready…? I prodded once more. The attention starting to boil beneath my skin. He remained inaudible, fidgeting back and forth with the buttons in a relaxed way that made me just want to scream.
‍
And scream I did.

Give it, I yanked the device from his hands, looking swiftly through the optical viewfinder, before correcting the settings. I almost threw it back at him, in my nervous rage.
‍What the hell? He asked, his palpable temper building as well.
‍You can’t do a simple thing, and I’m standing here waiting like an idiot, I barked, half of the context still trapped in my head.
‍Seriously? Give me a second, I’m just getting the thang of it. he snapped, You can’t treat me like I’m some dumbass for not knowing…

Frustrated, I exhaled in disapproval and let my eyes roll to the back of my head.

Seriously? He asked again, fully upset now as well. He shoved the camera back into my chest and picked up his bags before storming straight out of the market. I was livid.

How could he be upset if I was the one getting signaled and watched?! I probably would’ve been more upset had I not realized how exponentially more exposed I’d suddenly become now that I was alone.
I dove into the maze closing in behind him.

Panic building, I zoomed between the mounting aisles trying hard not to stumble over vendors who now seemed to have multiplied into hundreds. I came to a screeching halt on the main hall that cut straight down the market center, nauseous to see the world spinning around me.

I did this. I do this. I should’ve been better about communicating. My mind raced.

I turned once more, frantic.

And there he was. Calmly leaning against the corner of a food counter that seemed to be pushing through the busiest time of day. An uninterested Osmar scrolling mindlessly on his phone, (hopefully) waiting for me to finally come and meet him.

Listo? I asked walking up to him. Careful to conceal the flood of panic that was running through my face. Sampling the one-worded phrase I’d learned from my mother as means of signaling non-verbal resolution felt familiar, not to mention practical. I was ready to call it a truce.

We walked back to the car in silence.  

I guess I’m kicking myself a little for lacking the foresight to fully dissect why things had escalated so quickly, and much less being able to tell him about them as they happened in real time. But the truth is it’d be at least a dozen more week’s worth of therapy before I could start to understand the stress exerted by safety as it relates to the attention we garner living as queer individuals in an otherwise imperfect world.Yet careful not to muddy-up just how lovely this weekend and trip were at large, I think it’s important to note that these struggles exist. Especially for someone who works so hard to document the joy of my favorite travel memories, it feels noteworthy to score that things are often far from however perfect pictures might make them seem.

I let the walk back reset my emotions before asking if we should stop at a nearby Starbucks to pick something up for the drive back home. My treat.

A smiling Osmar agreed, and we let ourselves slide back into normal. I was grateful for the reset.

All said and done, we headed home with little more than sugar-filled bellies to mull over and a golden sunset to enjoy.  

With memories rich in hue and color, it should come as no surprise that the city of Guanajuato joins the list of my all-time absolute favorite destinations during my Mexico hiatus back in 2021. Warm, welcoming, and ever so indulgently walkable, this cobble-filled wonder of a city is always one I recommend for anyone looking to explore more of this gorgeous country. Far beyond reasons overstated, what become of the time and space I took while abroad was infinitely crucial to my development on a deeply personal level. It was places like these that truly swept me off my feet, and reminded me of the reasons I decided to take off in the first place –not to mention I can’t even begin to describe how incredible reconnecting with my Mexican roots and culture felt at the time. It’s so incredibly easy to get caught up in this swirling timeline that corporate life can sometimes put on us, but I remain infinitely grateful for time I spent breaking free of it for a couple of months. I’m not entirely sure I won’t be doing it again ;)

More to come always,