Sufriendo en el Paraiso
First published to SFHouseMouse.com on 3/25/2015
When The Man and I finally emerged from our bungalow that first day in Tulum, we bellied up to the bar and met our favorite server, Javier. While chatting with us, Jav jokingly made the comment, “Sufriendo en el Paraiso”, regarding his work (and our play) in these tropical surroundings. His comment was in jest, but the truth of that statement was not far behind.
Erwan Davon and his wife Alicia make an annual trek to Tulum, Mexico as one of the offers in the Erwan Davon Teachings curriculum with an event called The Paradise Vacation Course. When we attended the course last year, our financial situation was not as comfortable as we would have liked due to saving up for our wedding pre-requisite, The Sensuality Expansion Program. Hence, we resigned ourselves to taking a year off from this tropical paradise, as our sacrifice would ultimately be bolstering what was already an amazing love and sex life. As fate would have it, however, Christmas came a little early for The Man in the form of a work bonus, and we were able to pay for all sorts of goodies previously denied.
Perhaps needless to say, for the 1/2 of a year in which we thought we would be left out of this amazing and transformative experience, I would stare longingly at Alicia’s palm tree cutout and fantasize about all of the wonderfulness we would be missing (also known as FOMO, or Fear Of Missing Out). Once we registered for the course, those dreams hit hyper-drive. And when The Man approached me about extending our trip, my melon nearly exploded with juicy possibilities of paradisiacal delights. I spent the next six months ramping up my workouts, cutting back on meals, buying fancy bikinis, and otherwise building up our future experience.
So here we are, in Amazing Mexico. The only items on our agenda are to work on our tans, have the best birthday celebration EVER for my Man’s Jesus year, and to finally see the mystical pyramids peppered along the Mexican Riviera. Everything was lining up perfectly. The Man’s 33rd birthday was the day before our course began; his Mother, Father, Sister, Brother-in-Law, and Niece landed safely that morning with plans of meeting up for some celebratory grub at the Sahara, and I had finally conquered the Super Bug of San Francisco (imagine Godzilla in viral form) the week prior to traveling. The stars had aligned. Everything was perfect. And when Javier made his comment we laughed and laughed.
The evening descended. The tide changed. With it, came that recently all-to-familiar feeling. I thought maybe it was the entire ocean I had swallowed while trying to grow my fins earlier in the day. Maybe a cocktail would help, or two, or three. In the words of a notably fancy fish: just keep swimming, just keep swimming…
By the time the sun rose on our second day I knew very well that that sinking feeling fathoms deep in my chest was neither jubilation nor jitters. It was the return of The Beast; Godzilla was back, with a vengeance.
In true Margaritaville fashion, we suffered honorably in Paradise (I mean, if you’ve got to be sick, you might as well be on some tropical beach somewhere ~ said Gaugin). The Man kept his date with family for his birthday dinner, and took plenty of pictures so his Lady in Quarantine would feel part of the program. We scrapped our plans to pick up energetic information bundles from the pyramids in order to lounge like lizards soaking up the healing rays of Ra. And though I wasn’t well enough on his actual birthday to wake him with expert fellatio, we both agreed he has a whole month of celebrating for me to feverishly make up for my closed throat.
Next stop: the Mega Mansion, and true Mexican hospitality. Bienvenido a la civilizacion! Doctors who make house calls, and what comes up in the wake of illness at a heart-opening transformational workshop.