Meandering; meaning to follow a winding course, or to wander at random. I find looking back, that some of my best memories were of these meandering moments, with few plans and fewer reservations. I realized that there were points in time that I had no more than an idea of the city that I wanted to go to; with little to no idea of how to get there, or where I would be staying once I arrived. Sometimes this came back to bite me, but all the times that it didn’t turned out better than could have happened under regiment.
One such time landed me here, my first cenote visit with a group of hostel stayers, riding in the back of a Toyota pickup truck down a dirt road miles outside of Tulum. The crystal clear waters beamed reflections of light and color, and in the mid-day heat of summer in Mexico, couldn’t have proven any more refreshing.
Meandering a bit further, had me sipping something cold, feasting on shrimp and fish tacos, in a small ocean side kitchen restaurant. The neon wrapped umbrellas cast a warm light on the wind tossed sand of the beach, and the clouds rolled in right in time for sunset.
Children seem to have a knack for meandering. This rowdy bunch was playing on the sidewalks in Cancun, near the bus station. Maybe it’s their never ending imagination, or the ease at which happiness enters a young persons life, but there is something about a pair of sandals strapped to your elbows that seems to make sense.
The best part about meandering I’ve found is that it has the tendency to bring about a side to a journey that overflows with opportunity, one ripe with moments of freedom that are out there to be taken.