Holbox.

by Fernanda Montelongo Loayza (Mexico)

I didn't expect to find Mexico

Imagine you don't have an idea about... Nothing it all. Imagine that. You, in the middle of pointless. Dull. I'm just wanted to do something. So I decide to come to this tiny island in Mexico. Wich, apparently, seems like Holbox it's not from Mexico territory. It does not Mexican people here. Well, Holboxeños live here, but, 3000 tourists arrived every day? A second home for the tourists. Europe tourists. It depends on the season. December to February, Canadian people hiding from the horrible cold. Then, French people. German people, from the Netherlands. Only sand streets, every one it's biking, taking the sun, Argentinos selling things, having problems with migration. It feels like it's always vacations. I work, but I have the beach a few steps, so it doesn't matter. The time passes quietly. Bad. Fantastic. People come here for similar reasons, I mean, no one knows exactly the true purpose, but they stay, live here, have a life. How? Yes. I've lived here for months and I wondering how? Same people and at the same time different people. Same places. Different sunsets, sunrise. Then I discovered, this island, which, it's not an island, it's a sandbank and the water came out from the ocean every full moon. The sand roads are full of water. The mangroves around the houses, crocodiles out from their hidden. It's like a movie. Amazing. Hate-love relationship between the island and me. And yes, on I miss the city, miss my family, I wish I could go to see a movie in a big Mall, take a frappuccino, do shopping, cut my hair. I don't have anything like that here. Nothing. Amazing, right? Sad, is it? I hate this island. I live on this island.