In my life before kids, I might have traveled to a seaside resort in Mexico to relax, troll for shells, and enjoy a sense of calm. There would be a lot of sitting around staring at scenery, reading, and languishing over meals completed without disruptions. Nobody would jump up from the table and dash off into the darkness to chase something, whine for ice cream, or spill lemonade all over themselves five minutes after we sat down.
When I tell people I’m an avid traveler, I say so with both pride and shame. Pride: because world travelers tend to be among the most environmentally conscious, culturally sensitive, socially progressive people you’ll ever meet. Shame: because, as a traveler, I cause more damage to the environment, and more disruption in the lives others, than people who stay home.
Alongside the highway that roars past Bucerias, Mexico, on the opposite side of that highway from the susurrating surf of the Bahia de Banderas, I slowly slide my fork through the crust of the most delicious tropical taste my tongue has ever savored: mango pie. Continue reading