Our five‑week Mexico adventure

When people hear “five‑week sabbatical in Mexico,” they picture hammocks, margaritas, and a gentle, zen‑like detox from real life.

We did some of that.

But mostly, we ricocheted around the country like slightly over‑caffeinated travel agents who got their own dates mixed up.

Here’s how it actually went down.

Stop 1: Mexico City

We landed in CDMX, stepped out of the airport, and immediately got introduced to Mexico the way all great stories begin: with a two‑hour cab ride through traffic that clearly doesn’t believe in things like “lanes” or “physics.”

We paired up with some close friends in an Airbnb we all shared in La Condesa. There was a wine shop dangerously close by, so we naturally decided that was our new office.

We did the Frida Kahlo museum because you can’t go to Coyoacán and not pay your respects to the ultimate blue‑house badass. At one point I ended up sick, hanging out with Aubrey instead of the city – not quite the mezcal‑soaked experience I’d envisioned, but very on‑brand for international travel.

Stop 2: Puerto Escondido

Next up: Puerto Escondido.

One morning we swam with dolphins, which instantly ruined all future swims because now a regular swim in the ocean without dolphins feels pretty anticlimactic. I also paddled out at Zicatela, a beach break that absolutely does not care about your feelings, your ego, or your aging knees.

Detour: Mexico City, again

Because one round of chaos wasn’t enough, we popped back to Mexico City for a few days.

This time we climbed aboard one of those tourist buses – you know, the kind where you sit on the top deck, get sunburned, and see all the sights you’ll later pretend you “stumbled upon” while wandering like a local.

Stop 3: Puerto Vallarta

From there we flew to Puerto Vallarta and checked into a resort.

Yes, a real resort. Yes, the kind with wristbands. Yes, I absolutely leaned into the whole “I have nowhere to be and nothing to do” energy.

It was a nice reset: pools instead of taxis, chips and salsa instead of life decisions.

Stop 4: Sayulita

Then we moved on to Sayulita, where time slows down and everyone looks like they either just came from surfing or is about to.

Eventually the kids joined us, which meant we instantly leveled up from “chill couple on sabbatical” to “roaming family circus.” There was more surfing, of course. There were corn rows, because apparently vacation hair must be documented.

At some point there was a booze cruise – the less said about that, the better – and one evening we did a turtle release, which was pure magic. Tiny turtles sprinting (ok, wobbling) toward the ocean at sunset is the kind of thing that makes you briefly believe everything might actually be okay.

Stop 5: Zihuatanejo

Right after Christmas we headed to Zihuatanejo, which sounds like a made‑up beach town from a movie and honestly kind of lives up to it.

Our crew expanded again around New Year’s when James, Alejandro, and Tory showed up. The combination of good friends, warm nights, and questionable countdown decisions made for a very solid “Fuck Off 2020, please never come back” moment.

Stop 6: Troncones

We moved up the coast to Troncones, a sleepy little beach town where your biggest daily choice is: hammock now or hammock later?

By this point, the idea of going “back to normal” was starting to feel less like a default and more like a choice we didn’t actually have to make.

The return home

Eventually, we finally flew back home.

We arrived in Oregon with sand still in our shoes, salt in our hair, and the growing suspicion that life might be better if we stopped treating trips like an escape and started treating them like… life.

That five‑week run through Mexico didn’t just fill up a sabbatical. It cracked something open, planted a seed, and quietly whispered: you know you could actually keep going, right?