¿Tienes un Coco Frio?: Becoming My Own Woman

by Kaya Kwon (Canada)

I didn't expect to find Mexico

Perhaps it is too early to tell, or maybe it will all fade away with the tan, but I feel like a different person. After spending a few weeks in Puerto Escondido, and doing a lot of floating in the sea, I certainly look four shades darker. A few American tourists even mistook me for a local. Apparently, indigenous peoples in Mexico are originally of Mongolian descent. It may be that I am genetically closer to them than the Spanish conquistadors. Before turning 30, I wanted to try surfing. After articulating that new year’s resolution, I booked my place at a surfing and Spanish school in Puerto Escondido -- a small, picturesque town on the Pacific coast of Southern Mexico, which is attracting a lot of foreign investment for its potential to become the next Tulum. It turns out that I do not have much talent in surfing. In fact, I am terrible at it. Instead, Puerto Escondido has helped me to discover rather unexpected sides of myself. I was very nervous to surf. I trained myself for a couple months – running, weightlifting and yoga. After having gone through a major knee surgery though, I am firm that no experience is worth sustaining an injury. I was paired with Pablo, a young, local instructor. I had thought that he must be older than me: once, while lying on the surfboard waiting for a wave, I thought that he would make a very good father. And please, I was not attracted (I found someone else). Pablo is probably a great person – an insomniac who used to surf professionally in his youth. It may have been the language barrier, or his crazy teaching schedule. Unfortunately, I was always doing something wrong (e.g., paddling in front of others); and it would have been nice if he had told me what was expected of me in the surfing jungle. My fourth day of surfing was particularly bad. I did not catch a single wave (see, on previous days, I had caught at least a couple – perhaps I am not that terrible). In addition, I tripped over the board while trying to wash the sand off. Oh, and because I had taken off the rash guard to tan, my top also fell down. It was dramatic, awkward and extremely comical: oh you silly, silly girl. That day, I cried during my Spanish lesson. Romy, the teacher, hugged me – told me to keep my chin up, look mean and stand up for myself (even if it involves swearing). She validated what I was feeling: being a good male surfer can earn you rock star status; and gossip is the name of the game in town. My name in Hawaiian has the same meaning as her daughter’s – the sea. I started wondering: does becoming a mother help one to be able to emphasize and extend kindness to others yet stand her ground? I have always wanted to be “childfree”; but if becoming a mother unlocks certain compassion and strength, perhaps it is a life experience that I should be open to... Before leaving Puerto Escondido, I went to say goodbye to Romy, with flowers and chocolate. I showed her the picture that I took with Juan the day before, the owner of the famous Smoked Fish Taco. While taking a picture together, a few people asked if I were his granddaughter. My Spanish is not good enough to understand what he told them. But to me, he is my grandfather. Growing up in Canada, life has been busy and at times tough, and I did not get to go back to South Korea often to visit my grandparents -- but now, I have a grandfather that I can visit. One last thing. There was this dark, devilishly handsome man who felt bad that he did not have a refrigerated coconut to sell – and promised me that he would have one when I return next year. How it felt like love at first sight when he gave me his WhatsApp number! When I contacted him back home, he could not remember me. Well, intuition misleads sometimes.