Last Day of “Freedom,” MY FIRST DAY AT WORK AT THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT, & the Last Chapter of My Magnificent Trip to Mexico (Merida, Cancun, Bungee Jumping, Isla Mujeres & Montreal)

Shalom,

 

So today is my last day as an untethered young buck. Tomorrow I start my job as Junior Program Officer, affiliated with the Joint/Union Management Task Force on Diversity & Inclusion in the Public Service, in the Treasury Board Secretariat of the Canadian Federal Government! Now how prestigious (and intimidating) does that sound? I’m so excited about it! And a bit nervous! And not really sure what to expect! But definitely ready to begin! Wouhou!

How am I spending my last taste of freedom? I woke up early, as I’m trying to reset / regularize my sleep schedule, and sipped iced coffee while reading about The Challenge (the finale of its spinoff Champs vs Pros aired on Tuesday night, and the new season premieres in less than a month). Then went for a short bike ride, got the newspaper, and ate a late breakfast out on the balcony while completing the crossword and reading some articles. Now I’m working on this blog post, going to yoga at 5, and I have my weekly Pandemic Legacy game later tonight. Then likely an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race Season 6 (just witnessed the iconique Laganja breakdown, and okurrrr mawma, it was everything, just too f***ing much, SUCH a disaster) and an early bedtime – because tomorrow, I’m at the office at 9am! Whuuttt! Insanity.

And considering how I’ll be out of town all day Saturday & Sunday – I’m helping Tsarina Tsybina move to Toronto by renting a car, picking up ridesharers, driving to Montreal, loading the minivan, heading to T-Dot, listening to the S-Town podcast, sleeping overnight, attending the Pride Parade, then driving back to Ottawa Sunday evening – I need to finish up blogging ‘bout Mexico. I know I sound like a broken record by now, so I’m just gonna get it out of the way, so we can move onto other topics. Plus, after tomorrow, I feel I’ll have much more to discuss – and also much less energy to do so. I know starting working again is going to be exhausting and have a sharp learning curve. I’m prepared for it, but I’m not necessarily looking forward to the adjustment period. Plus I want to continue hitting the gym, so hopefully I’ll have the wherewithal to do that. But it’s that famous paradox, isn’t it? Working out actually gives you more energy, despite everything you expend in the process. I suppose it’s about putting your stamina to the test, depleting it, so you have more in general. I’m not totally sure. But I hope that the past six weeks have conditioned me to be able to last longer and be more energetic.

So let’s get to it, shall we?

 

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Day 11: Merida & Cancun

 

Woke up early, enjoyed the quality hostel breakfast, packed my stuff up, and put it “closed with a key” (cerrado con llave) in the locker. Then hurried down to the main plaza, where there was a free walking tour, which are a great way to explore a city. You can wander around yourself, certainly – and that is what I predominately do – but then there’s so much nuance and history and interesting factoids that you miss when you don’t have somebody there to explain / introduce it to you. I was meeting Fritzi there, and we even waited up for her, but she never showed. That’s one frustration of traveling abroad. You get so accustomed to being able to communicate with others at a moment’s notice when you’re back home – due to WiFi or data on your mobile – so when you’re without that, it goes back to the old-fashioned ways of doing things, pre-cell phones. I kinda like it, though. It’s a return to simpler times. If they show up, great – and if not, well, you can’t get upset about it. These things happen. And it turns out that there were actually two walking tours departing at the same time nearby each other – so she went to the other one, where she was also wondering where I was. Shame, since I wanted to hang out with her again, but what can ya do?

The walking tour was very informative. We learned about the big Cathedral, toured the church, wandered through a free museum in a government building, and checked out the brilliant architecture of other edifices in the city. Lots of wealth families lived in Merida once upon a time, due to the production of sisal, a plant fibre that is woven into rope. The industry boomed and richesse came with it – along with opulent homes and colonial architectural details and luxe living spaces. As well as enormous haciendas outside the city, that I unfortunately missed out on (you can’t do it all). Nowadays, many of these have been converted into upper-crust hotels and palatial estates for the bougie travelers to enjoy. Me, I prefer that hostel and couchsurfing life. All the better to meet people and truly experience an area!

We also walked down this road in which all the shops had these fish tanks / terraria with these cockroach-looking bugs in them for sale. The kicker is that they were all bejeweled, with gold chains and sparkly gems and the like. They’re called makech, and the apparently immobilize themselves when they’re touched. So the idea is, you hang them on y our top like a brooch, and it just dangles there without crawling anywhere. And when you put them back in their cage, they resume movement. It’s living art, a bit macabre, interesting, eye-catching. Like the blinged-out roaches on America’s Next Top Model. I wouldn’t personally do it, but I do think it’s cool.

And the legend behind it is that there was this affluent father (maybe a king?) with a daughter (possibly a princess) that he gave anything she ever desired. After his conquests, he would always bring back a gift for his darling daughter. Except one time, she wanted one of the slaves (or maybe a prisoner) that her father won due to his victory – but he wasn’t having any of it. She disobeyed him, went behind his back, and had a torrid love affair with this slave – only to be caught by the king. To punish her, he turned her lover into a beetle, and the markech adornments were born! Quite the unique souvenir, they would be. But unfortunately, the shopkeepers even charged for you to take a picture of them, so I have none. Google-image search that ish if you’re so inclined.

Our lovely tour guide also told us the history of those white twin-chairs you see everywhere. Similar to the previous old-fashioned story, a father created these chairs so that his daughter could sit and talk with her lover, but they had a barrier between them so it wouldn’t go too far. And of course, the father could sit and watch them converse. How creepy and overbearing is that? #SmashthePatriarchy! Nonetheless, the seats are pretty cool and unique. Another standout image from Merida.

We ended the expedition at this great museum / artists’ residence in a converted old abode. Merida is a very popular city these days with young adults. It seems a bit hipster to me, actually. Very artsy and new-fashioned and up-and-coming. Like Bed Stuy. With artisanal ice cream shops owned by Polish immigrants to trendy art galleries to expensive espresso to La Negrita Cantina. It’s good stuff. Keidan really recommends it. Me, I didn’t love it, but I’m still glad I visited.

After that, I tipped the guide (since it’s not actually free, and she deserved it anyhow) then had to dash. I had bought my bus ticket the day prior for 1pm, and so happy I did, because every seat was taken, and all of the other passengers had kids and snacks and blankets with them. They’re resident pros, on the long bus ride from Merida to Cancun. Like 4-5 hours. Thank Dios there was air-conditioning.

Oooohh! Two funny stories. I bought the ticket from a travel agent off the main square, but due to my annoying frugality instincts, I missed out on a much cheaper one early in the morning, because I didn’t trust her word and walked to the bus station to check it out myself. And by the time I got back, there were no vacancies left. Of course. Don’t get me wrong, I like how I’m money-savvy and don’t go throwing it away – because then I can afford things I really care about (like travel) and not just be profligate with impulsive purchases or eating out – but it does annoy me sometimes. Just another characteristic of mine I’m working on.

Anyway, the funny story is that after I made the transaction, this woman asked me about my nail polish (which was orangey-red at the time). She spoke no English, so what was already a dicey conversation became more difficult. I told her I like the colour, and me gusta romper las expectaciones del género (I like to break gender expectations), and why not? She probably asked if I’m gay too, so I told her, “Soy bi,” pronounced like “bee.” Maybe I said “Estoy bi” ? I don’t exactly remember. Hispanoblantes – help me out here. Do you use ser or estar when discussing sexual orientation? Because sexuality is fluid sometimes, but for most people most times, it is a staid and consistent identity. So which is preferred?

Regardless. That’s me. Being a tiny bit gender non-conforming & educating about queer issues wherever I am! Can’t stop / won’t stop.

The other amusing anecdote is more cringey than funny. After the walking tour, I’m on the hunt for a cold coffee, so I can actually accomplish stuff on the long bus ride. Plus, it helps with the heat, and you know how I love my iced americanos. So I pass this place which has a sign promoting their special – a croissant and a coffee for, I dunno, 40 pesos? A good price – comparable to the other places, but with a lil pastry thrown in. I needed a snack too, so it was perfect. I go in, and inquire if I can get it to go, and order an iced espresso with un poquitito de leche and a croissant to this woman. And then this man comes over, and he asks for my order too, so I repeat it. He describes the croissants with more detail, so I order one with cheese and pesto. Uhmm, yes please!

It takes much longer than expected, and I’m fretting because I don’t want to miss my bus, and then he comes out with this big box – the croissant sandwich and fries and the coffee to go. And a bill, for much more than the sign said. And that’s where the chagrin/humour comes in. Apparently he told me the special was just a regular croissant (which is what I wanted, cool) but offered the other, fancier, pricier sandwiches, and since my Spanish is imperfecto, I didn’t follow that it wasn’t included in the deal. Even the coffee was more expensive! Because apparently he gave me a double, when I didn’t ask for it. Ugh. Like the guy who tried to rip me off / overcharge me for the cold brew in Tulum when all I wanted was espresso over ice.

So this guy doesn’t speak English and won’t back down. I tell him to get his manager – who also is only monolingual – and for the entire ordeal, I’m really stressing out about all the time it’s taking. I even considered just leaving everything there, giving a couple coins for the little bit of coffee I drank, and peacing the F out, because my departure was looming and I still had to collect my stuff from the hostel and then hustle to the bus station. I wasn’t trying to get chased by the policia, though, so I opted not to sip & dash. The manager sided with me and just charged me for the coffee (which was still more than their sign said, but whatever, I’m not going to squabble about a buck or two), so I paid up, kinda enjoyed how she let me do that when the other employee was so upset (why so pressed, bro?), and get the heck outta dodge.

Actually ran into the two older Canadian guys at the bus station, too, serendipitously – Robin and his travel companion – then got a lil snack of empanadas from an adorable old lady on the side of the road, and another coffee, then boarded that bus. Watched Scream Queens and listened to a podcast and eventually got back to where I started: Cancun.

Checked into the same hostel, was happy to see my amigos who work there again (Daniel, Martin, that Canuck guy with the tattoos and his wife), dropped my bag off, and found dinner. Went to La Res Sabrosa, by recommendation of Daniel (and corroborated by TripAdvisor), and enjoyed a phenomenal alambre – which, as Wiki says, is “grilled beef topped with chopped bacon, bell peppers, onions, cheese, salsa and avocado.” Kinda like the orden I got on my first day in Mexico – a make-your-own taco platter. Delicious.

Then I picked up some canned cocktails from the 7/11 across Avenida Tulum, hopped on the R2, and went to the Zona Hotelera. I first went to Playa Tortugas, where the bungee jumping place is, and managed to get there in time to actually see somebody jump and inquire about the process, rates, experience, etc. They told me I could do it right then, but after the dinner I just had, I didn’t think it was the best idea. Plus, I wanted to do it during the daytime, so I could enjoy the panoramic view from atop the tower. And to be honest, I was cowed. So I reserved my spot for the following day. Oh, and they even offered me a discount before I opened my mouth to ask about it. Immediately knocked ten off the price, for only $50 US. Now that’s a deal!

For the rest of the night, I wandered around the Zona, sat on the beach, sipped my drinks, read my book, watched some of the debauchery at the biggest clubs there (Coco Bongo, La Vaqueria, Mandala), and eventually meandered back to the hostel, where I chatted with the other guests and sat on the outdoor patio and ate everything up. What a life.

 

Day 12: Cancun & Bungee Jumping & Isla Mujeres

I woke up especially excited for the day. I enjoyed the breakfast, sun-screened, psyched myself up, grabbed an iced coffee, caught the shuttle, and headed straight for Playa Tortugas again – before I lost my nerve. Marched right to the Adventure Bay kiosk, signed the waiver, paid the fee, and took a couple minutes to gather my thoughts. But after I came all this way and announced it on Facebook and Snapchat and made my mind up, there’s no way I was backing down.

So I climb up the steep wooden stairs, get 80 feet above the water, and really enjoy the view. It’s gorgeous. White sand beaches, turquoise waters, the sun is shining, I have spectators watching from the beach below. I convince the instructor the take some pictures of me with my own phone – probably against the rules, but whatever – then get the photographer to carry it down safely for me. Get strapped into the ankle harness, and it’s surprisingly weighty – but that’s reassuring. You’re not dealing with peanuts safety features, here. And believe you me, I did my research into the company before signing up. I’m not a total idiot.

Then I pose for more pictures with the official photographer, squinting in the sun, and then walk the plank. The instructor is there the whole time, so I’m not completely scared out of my wits. He already told me all about how the process would go, what I had to do, the proper poses, etc. So I was prepared, and not scared. My heart might have been beating pretty fast, but I felt remarkably cool-headed. I get to the precipice of the wooden platform, toes gripping the very edge, and gaze out upon everything. It was such a remarkable sight, absolutely gorgeous. Paradise, heaven on earth, everything.

I wave at the people watching 80 feet below, spread my arms as I’m supposed to, and that’s when my heart jumps to my throat. I get an immediate surge of total terror, my instincts telling me that this is super stupid – but I’m positive it’s safe, and I watched other people do it, and I know that if I overthink it, I’ll get in my head and be too pusillanimous to do it. So I push the fear out of my mind and fall forward with zero hesitation. Legitimately – I wasted no time. And was impressed with myself for doing that, when I’ve suffered acrophobia for most of my life.

And, literally in the blink of an eye, the initial fall is over. I remember at the last second to go into the dive position, I splash down in the Caribbean Sea, then rebound back up, bungeed afloat, and bounce around a couple times. It’s hard to gauge where in space I am, since all the brilliant colours are blurring together, there’s salt water in my eyes, and I’m moving fast. I catch glimpses of the boats in the marina, the wooden tower, the beach, the sky and horizon and ocean, and before you know it – I’m reaching out to grab the ring they held out, catch it, and am slowly towed back to terra firma.

When I’m on my back on the pier, I immediately use the bottom of my “Living Young, Wild, and Free” frat tank top (SUCH a bro) to wipe my eyes of the seawater that got in them – and apparently everybody thought I was crying and taking care of my tears. Nope, that is not what happened. I loved every second of the bungee jump, and was disappointed that it was over and done with so soon! I definitely want to experience it again, but next time from higher up. This one was only 70-80’ of a plummet, which seems like suicide when you’re standing on the brink – but it all passes by in such a hurry. So I can’t wait to do it again.

I was the first daredevil of the day, too – so that was quite the way to shake up my morning!

And then, after riding the afterglow for a while, marveling that I had the courage to do that – when I was all alone and had nobody there to cheer or encourage me – I bought my ticket to Isla Mujeres, boarded the ferry, and sailed the ocean blue. They even had live music on the boat, which was pretty cool – this guy playing the guitar and singing covers in Spanish. Neato mosquito.

For those of y’all who don’t know, Isla Mujeres is a very popular tourist destination in Mexico. Common for those that get to the country via cruise ship. It’s famous for its snorkeling and scuba diving around a coral reef of it. But it also features this underwater museum called Musa – in which sculptures were created and then sunken to the ocean floor, for people to see through goggles and with air tanks. Awesome stuff, especially with how the various flora + fauna cover these statues and kind of “reclaim” them. It was established in order to compete with the reef, since all the tourism it receives takes a toll on the health of the coral and plants. Such a shame for that to happen, so I love this initiative they thought of. Where else can you go see art underwater? Probably somewhere, I’m sure, but it’s not too common.

However, I didn’t do any of this. It was my last day in Mexico, so I didn’t want to take out tonnes of pesos to afford all these expeditions and risk having leftover currency. My big #yolo expense was the bungee jumping, something I’ve been wanting to try for years, and the tattoo, which I’ll discuss later. So instead, I wandered around the town section of Isla Mujeres, which reminded me of Hilo, Hawaii. A nice beach town, baked by the sun, with lots of kitschy shops and restaurants with outdoor patios and people lazily walking around.

I hit up Playa Norte, which was highly recommended by the travel sites, and plunkered myself down in the shade of a palm. Read my book, enjoyed the sights, breathed in the fresh air and luxuriated in the sea breeze. Eventually I stashed my stuff in a bush and went in search of this mini-reef I overheard some Americans discussing on the ferry over. Splashed along in the water with my goggles and Speedo, swam underneath this bridge that connected the glitzy hotel Mia Reef to the rest of the island, and found an aquamarine wonderland. There were rocks out where the waves reach the lagoon, kinda like a natural breakwater, and all around them were all these adorable fish. I floated near them, loved their flashy colours, and even spotted some turtles, swordfish, and a flippin’ barracuda! Fortunately I escaped with all my limbs and bodily integrity.

Then returned to my stuff, which luckily was all still there (in addition to my fingers and toes), laid down on the beach to dry off, then went in search of food. Stopped in a store to ask a local for recommendations, but they place he advised was nowhere to be found. So I strolled down the pedestrian roads, checking out all the menus, and wow, was everything overpriced. Which goes hand-in-hand with how touristy the area is. To be expected. I ended up at the place that looked the most authentic. It was small, literally ran out of the kitchen of somebody’s residence, the menu was nothing fancy, and there were (what appeared to be actual) Mexicans eating there too. Always a good sign when the locals patronize the same restaurant!

I had guacamole and a quesadilla, and it was all delicious. They had a serve-yourself salsa and salad bar, as well, so I capitalized upon that too. I wish I knew the name of the establishment, to recommend to you all, but I can’t even find it on Google Street View. Ah well.

Then back to the ferry station, but I apparently misread my ticket and had to kill another 45 minutes. No problem, though! More exploring, got an iced espresso, and sat watching the boats go in and out of the marina / reading “Truly Madly Guilty.”

Then boarded the board, was treated to more live music on the ~sunset cruise~ back to the mainland, and I even managed to get back when Adventure Bay / the bungee jumping place was still open! So I went straight for the photographer’s stand and tried my best to haggle them down. The prices they charge for their photos is nigh criminal. $35 for like 30 photos? Yeah, it’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.

The lowest he would go was $25 for the photos and the video for it, when I only wanted to give a twenty. So I played hardball, and was just like, “Well, fine, no deal. It’s either you take this $20 and give it to me, or I walk away, you delete the photos and make no money. They’re worth nothing to you. Might as well make some more cash before you close for the night.” And no, that was not all in Spanish, because I don’t think I’m that skilled at my second language (just yet). But it worked! And now I’m the proud owner of some hi-res pictures AND the video of me defying death! Yay!

Satisfied, I returned to the hostel, showered off, researched tattoo parlours, then struck out on the hunt. The place that was best reviewed was unfortunately closed when I finally managed to find it – after serendipitously running into my Canadian pal Robin (from Merida) AND wandering through a city fair / block party – so I stopped in this trendy-looking menswear store that sold expensive Speedos, asking for another recommendation. It happened to be just around the corner, so I headed straight to Placer y Dolor (Pleasure and Pain). Met with the artist and tried my best to explain the idea in Spanish, which was not as easy as it sounds, despite how simple the design was going to be. He quotes me a price, but again, I’m playing aloof – and it works out again! He immediately drops it down to about $40 US, if I do it tonight.

So I tell him, great, I need to take some cash out though. And I wanted to walk around and mull it over for a bit, before submitting to being poked with a needle many times over in an LDC with somebody who I couldn’t communicate with that well. But, you know what, I read the reviews, it had numerous positive testimonies, and whatever, no biggie. So I did it! And I have no regrets! It was quick, cheap, not excruciating, and still looks good! Yay!

I got the outlines of two equilateral triangles pointing to each other on the outside of my left wrist, where my watch goes (and can cover it if I need to). So it resembles a basic, geometric hourglass – but the upside-down triangle stands for queer pride as well, and the right-side up one represents delta, for change. And incidentally, the two of them together also mean fire and water, or balance / duality / etc – but that was just an extra +1, not the reason I went for that design. And now it’s tattoo #7! To tie up with my body piercings! (3 in each ear and 1 nipple)

Finally, with my ultimate night in Meh-hee-ko, I got some more cheap-ass tacos al pastor along Avenida Tulum, at the place the Kiwi Couple recommended way back when, then sat on the patio with the hostel workers / guests, and soaked in the lovely balmy night air one more time.

 

Day 13 & 14 & 15: Cancun + Montreal + Ottawa

Wake up, last hostel breakfast, grabbed my stuff, got a final iced americano, schlepped to the ADO station, got to hang out in the air-conditioned premium lounge reading about Drag Race, listen to the Brain Candy Podcast en route the airport, then only have about a half hour to wait at the gate (since it took me an unexpected while to check in at the counters, Dios knows why, I had only a carry-on). Have my layover in Philly, take my time walking through all the terminals looking for lunch, finally settle on an iced coffee and bagel from Au Bon Pain, the cashier says she thinks my conch piercing is cute and I’m adorable, aw thanks girl, then jetset to Montreal.

It takes forever going through customs, but eventually I make it through, hop on the shuttle to downtown, meet beautiful KyKy at Ganadara, grab the key, and finally relax when I get to his place. He surprises me a half hour later, as I’m sitting in just my underwear on the couch, resting before I got the energy up to shower – but he brought food from the restaurant! Awwww what a darling! ❤

Crash soon after, despite my intentions to go for a walk and experiencing the city that still feels like the most like home to me. Sleep like a log, wander round the city, indulge in another decadent but delicious poutine from Dirty Dogs, do some sightseeing, meet up with Ky & Mike MF Chan at Brutopia for a 5a7, love the raspberry beer, bus to the Mile End and hang out with Bren “G-Frog” Prouse for a lil while, play some Sm4sh, then metro to Atwater Forum to meet Ouliana to finally see Get Out (since Ottawa is severely lacking cinemas in its central core). We stroll back along Ste-Catherine afterward, get a quick bite from Burger King (I clearly was #cleaneating during these couple days), and plan how we’ll move her to Toronto during June. Well, guess what, that’s happening tomorrow! Believe it, squirrelfriend!

With my last day, more aimless walking around, get a banh mi with Melody (who out of nowhere gives me free nail polish – WOW thanks so much, the white paint is exactly what I wanted!) at the perennial Vua, grab coffee with Torchic, then get my rideshare back to lovely ol’ Ottawa. And the rest is history: the post-travel blues and unemployed doldrums and not loving my life situation, especially after how spectacular Mexico was.

 

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And that’s that! The remainder of my travel blogging about Mexico. Who knows when the next exotic trip abroad will be? Not until November at the earliest, since that is when my casual contract with the Treasury Board ends.

Bi the gay, I had my first day on the job today – which I’ll discuss in more detail later – but a quick summary:

Everyone was very friendly, all the documents I was given to read (a huge amount) interest me, I have a nice private office/cubicle, it’s not hellishly open-concept, I met my colleagues and my boss’s boss, received uplifting and flattering advice from my supervisor, got the security badge to enter the buildings and my own laptop and email and login info etc and feel so legit about the whole thing. And ironically, the dream I had right before waking up at 7:30 this morning included my previous boss assaulting me and me feeling powerless to change it, but still giving an impassioned and affecting speech about it to the crowd gathered there. Hm, how telling is that, huh?

I now work Monday-Friday from 8:30-4:30, and it’s not micro-managey, and I don’t feel defeated or even that daunted by anything. I’m absurdly excited about it. Can’t wait to truly sink my teeth into this Diversity & Inclusion Task Force work! Yay!

 

Ciao for now. I’m off to gym, shower, and then head to Ernie’s for the RPDR Season 9 Finale with frands! Sickening!

 

Love y’all,

 

– Jefe

EXCITING JOB NEWS (I’m Finally Starting !!), Hard Introspection, Powerlifting, Outreach, & Other Details about My Lovely Life

Hello!

 

It’s 7:30 on a humid Saturday evening, and I have plans at 9. This is probably a really bad time to start a blog entry, but that’s k, ‘cause “the longest journey starts with a single step.” (How’s that for an overwrought opening?)

I slept in once again today and took my time waking up while reading about the new season of The Challenge XXX Dirty Thirty. Veronica’s return! Tori Deal is finally debuting! And filming just wrapped a couple days ago, but the premiere is gonna be July 18^th! What!

Literally, finding out about that quick turnaround and impending premiere was the sole piece of good news I got last weekend. I had an uncomfortable phone call with a friend, which inspired lots of introspection and self-reflection and second-guessing myself afterward. Which isn’t great for me, since my self-esteem has already been lower than normal, on account of my being unemployed and uninvolved and “Wasting My Young Years” (by London Grammar) for the past 2.5+ months. I already struggle with being sure of myself, and although I come across as supremely confident and even uber-cocky sometimes, it’s an act. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? And that’s what I do in some social situations, especially in large groups when I don’t know anybody.

It was a malignant conversation, though. It came from a place of concern, like tough love / hard truths. And I appreciate it, and also that my dear friend had the cojones to bring it up to me. Because it was not a fun phone call, by any means. But still important to have, and it has helped me see some of the error(s) in my ways and desire to try harder / do better. No pain, no gain right? You gotta struggle to get that success. And that’s where I am right now.

Reading the entirety of Mark Manson’s “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck” in a 24-hour period this past week also aided me in coming to terms with this rough talk I had with a close pal. Pain – be it physical or psychological – is helpful and necessary because it tells you that something is amiss or in need of amelioration. And if my amig@ didn’t bring up what they did, then I would continue comporting myself in a less-than-spectacular fashion. So I’m grateful for it, even if it hurt in the short term.

Funnily enough, in the week following this strained convo, it became clear that not one but two (other) people that I respect and like and get along with were upset by a snarky comment I made in a group setting. Of course, I meant no harm or malice by it, but the result was the same – I was too cavalier and they didn’t like what I said. So I felt bad, was contrite, and apologized to them. Several missteps along my path, certainly – but the important part is that I take it seriously, don’t let the criticism destroy me, understand it for what it is (somebody who cares about me bringing up a behaviour people have found troublesome, out of concern for my success in future relationships), make some changes, and keep on truckin’. So that’s me. Flawed, certainly, but working on it. Nobody’s perfect, and I’m still young and have some growing up to do / stuff to learn.

Anyhow.

Another annoyance for me this past week/end was how the security clearance was continuing to take a while. I know things in government take time, and it’s all part of the bureaucratic beauty of it, and it’ll be worth the wait ultimately – but dang it, I’m growing impatient! I want to start working and am eager to learn about what all is going on with the Diversity & Inclusion Task Force and am so ready to begin! I finally got the record check back from the UK, last Wednesday, and I immediately rushed over to the TBS building to hand it off to Dyllan, the administrative assistant who has been helping me with the paperwork throughout this process. The document ended up taking nine days, when their site said it would take two working days (minus the days of receipt and dispatch) if you paid the extra $70… Which I did. Aggravating.

And that wasn’t the last step in the process either, as I expected / was hoping. I had to wait until Monday for more progress, which manifested as an invitation to a security clearance interview on Thursday afternoon, to obtain clarification about some “discovered information” that arose during the rest of the process. I asked my friends who are in the know about this, to get their input / advice, and none of them understood why I had to go through with that, since I’m only going for the most basic level of security clearance. So I fretted about this all week, but also knew that worrying wouldn’t help anything, and what happens, happens. I went into the interview with my head held high and hoping for the best. Again: fake it ‘til you make it.

Turns out all my apprehension was for naught. The questions they asked me were the ones you’d expect in such a tête-à-tête – if I’ve ever been arrested, where I’ve traveled in the past five years, my citizenships, why I decided to move to Scotland, my work history, etc. It was pretty gayforward, and the woman said she would write up a report to be submitted to her supervisor for their approval, and I’d likely hear back by Wednesday. Cool. More time to wait / be patient / worry that this job ain’t a slam dunk after all (because if this doesn’t work out, then what will I do?!?!) – but the bright side is that it is a step forward. Another hurdle jumped and getting closer to the finish line. So, I’ll take it!

Then the next day, I was just doin’ my thang, listening to new music (Todrick Hall, Halsey, Alaska Thunderf*ck 5000) while power-lifting at the gym (I hit 310lbs on the leg press while doing 3 sets of 10 reps, and moved up to 175lbs on the back squat, 3 sets of 6 reps), and, lo and behold…

I got an email!

From Dyllan!

The day after the interview, and not this coming Thursday, like I expected!

And he told me that MY SECURITY CLEARANCE HAS BEEN VALIDATED!

And I start work next Friday !

And will find out more details / get my letter of offer on Monday or Tuesday! (And would begin earlier, but my boss is away for the most of the week)

 

So, like Etta James says, “At last!”

It really looks like I’ll finally get back on that employment horse by the end of the week, and I’m really looking forward to it. I know I’m going to miss my slow, idle days – waking up late, doing crosswords on the balcony, taking leisurely bike rides, watching TV until 3am, the works – but I’m very excited about working again. It’ll feel good to earn some money, accomplish something every day, learn new things, become a better, more capable person, and feel like I’m making something of my life. It’s definitely going to be a sharp learning curve and a rough adjustment period – getting re-accustomed to devoting so many consecutive hours towards work tingz and waking up early and preparing lunches for the week and dressing professionally – but I can’t live a lazy, unattached existence forever. So, bring it on. I’m ready. Switch-up!

The 90 days of my casual contract will take me until late October / early November, so I suppose my big trip Down Under before my 26^th birthday will have to change a bit. Alas. No big deal, though, because I am very happy and grateful that this opportunity is finally going to happen. It’s been about three months since I finished at the CCGSD, and all that freedom has been too much of a good thing. Plus, a government gig is the golden ticket here in Ottawa. Not sure if I’ve said that so far, but it really is what many people clamour for. It offers job security, dependability, benefits, a good salary, and work that you know makes a difference. And while mine might just be a temporary position for now, I’ve heard from numerous people that if your superiors like you, then they will find a way to keep you / bring you on for a longer-term post. That’s what I plan to do, to leave a good impression and do an exemplary job and make myself valuable so I can continue fighting the good fight. And even if that doesn’t happen, despite my best efforts – then I’m already internal to government, and thus more able to land other contracts with greater ease.

All that means that it finally seems that Ottawa is my permanent home now. And with a reliable job commencing very soon, I can stop living in this state of arrested development. That is, jumping from place to place without signing a lease, not accruing furniture, functioning with the little stuff I have here in the city (and not all that’s back in Nova Scotia), etc, etc. The place I’m in now is only a sublet for the summer, so come September, I’ll be moving again. So that gives me time to feel out this new gig and decide how much I want to set aside for rent. And then maybe I can move into an unfurnished place, take my stuff + furniture from the Nova Scotia house, sign a year-long lease, and live my best life. Hang the Dali prints on the walls, get my board game collection into the city, and make a home for myself. And I might even opt to live solo, which to me seems like a move into adulthood. We’ll see, though. The prospect is exciting to me. Now I can finally gaze into the future, do some daydreaming, wonder what life will be like in the coming months and years.

 

—

 

So there’s that. Obviously a great piece of news to receive, and it started my weekend off with a bang. Then I went to Tim Jolly’s place to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race and play some games, and that was fun as always. The previous Friday, I watched it with Colin & Riyadh at their friend’s place, and also enjoyed that. I then headed to Frayme’s Housewarming Party, where we played Werewolves! My favourite! And yesterday, I checked out the Club Day for the Ottawa Wolves, which is our local inclusive rugby team, which various friends of mine play for (Miguel, Vanessa, Jackson, Owen, Matt, Chris, Tyler, Nich). It was my first time seeing rugby played, and it was actually fun to watch. Like more hardcore football with fewer rules. Good stuff. Seems like a great release and workout, and it definitely piqued my interest and a desire to try it out. But then I remember how Nich broke his collarbone and Matt torqued his leg and Vanessa has a bad concussion and Daniel Prinn fractured his arm, and I look at the huge dudes that are on the team, and I decide that it probably isn’t the sport for me.

However! I do want to get more athletically involved, and keep up with this new fitness kick I’m on (with weightlifting, yoga, and cycling) – so maybe I’ll go out for the Gay Ottawa Volleyball league, or challenge some people to squash, or look more into that community Quidditch team, or hit up one of Ottawa’s three (!!) rock-climbing gyms. Summer gives me more energy, and I want to capitalize upon that while I still have the wherewithal.

And then last night, I met up with David MacMillan at the AIDS Committee, who trained me to be part of SPOT (Safer Partying Outreach Team) and taught me all about HIV 101 and the ACO’s values and history and harm-reduction techniques. Then the two of us went and performed outreach for safer consumption & sexual health at Sashay, which is billed as the “Largest LGBT Party” in Ottawa. It was at Barrymoore’s, this huge converted theatre, and tickets go for $25 a pop. There were go-go dancers and drag queens and coloured spotlights and bumpin’ house music. Seemed like a pretty commonplace club night to me, so I was surprised entry was so pricy – but I suppose living in Montreal for six years spoiled me, because it’s some of the best Ottawa has to offer. Such a shame.

Regardless, I still had a fun time. I ran into a lot of people I knew, including some I haven’t seen in forever – so it was great to catch up with them. I got to check out the Queer Mafia event too, which was right next door at Babylon, so I saw the inside of another venue as well. And strolled through Glowfair, a block party on Bank Street that they had this past Friday & Saturday. And hung out with David M, got to know him more, learned a thing or two, and enjoyed biking through the humid night air. If I didn’t do all that, what else would I have gotten up to on a Saturday night? Watching old seasons of RPDR? That’s exactly right (I recently started season six and am loving it), but that’s also hella boring. Better to get out, hit the town, check out the scene, and do something new that I can add to my resume. And it turned out to be quite the good time, actually!

 

What else have I been up to? Regularly hanging out and chatting with my roommate, Gilmour (as Bailey is still in Sudbury). Hosting trivia each Monday, and still loving that. Board games, naturally. Pandemic Legacy mostly each week with the Lads (Colum, Dean, Luke), and other games other times. I recently met/befriended Matt & Chris, and we played Dominion with the Adventures expansion – one I’ve been wanting to try but didn’t have the chance to. So I really loved that (and won pretty handily, too, no T no shade). Also tried out some of the variations from the Catan Traders & Barbarians expansion last week, with Miguel, Owen, & Nick. Yoga on Thursdays, with Robert, Francois, Denis, Joa, & David/Imad/Coady (the volunteers). I met Julia’s boyfriend Ben recently too, and we really hit it off well. And played some memorable games of Sm4sh – you know how I relish that. Seeing other friends for coffees and catch-ups. Working out. And I suppose, enjoying the lovely weather and spending time outside and keeping myself busy so I don’t get too melancholy. I biked to Hog’s Back Falls one day (as the featured photo shows) and through Gatineau just yesterday (as pictured on my Insta). I’m really liking Ottawa much more, now that everything is in bloom and people are out and about and it’s no longer frigid. So that’s something to be grateful about.

 

—

 

Aaaaannnddd, I’m gonna wrap it up here. I still want to finish chronicling my trip to Mexico, but that’s nearly finished. Have to discuss my last morning in Merida, Isla Mujeres, bungee-jumping, and two evenings in Cancun. It won’t take long – but I’ll get to it another time.

 

One final thing. I have not heard more back about the reality TV show, but I still legitimately believe that I would be an amazing character for such a program. Unique, outspoken, strong opinions, big personality, fun/goofy/silly, extroverted, singular, a fan of having a great time, ambitious, intelligent, a bit vulnerable/insecure, magnetic. Multifaceted.

So maybe it’ll still work out – crazier things have happened – but as of now, I’m super pleased to have an exciting job starting soon. And in the grand scheme of things, that’s much more important, better for my future, a smarter choice. So, I’ll take it!

 

‘Til next time, y’all. Hope you enjoyed this less intensive update.

Take care now ❤

 

– Jefe

Job Update, My Summer Sublet, Tulum, Coba Ruins, Valladolid, Cenote-Swimming, Cliff-Jumping, Travel Buddies, & Modeling Underwear for Charity

Good afternoon,

 

It is roughly 3:30 on the last day of May, and I am sitting on the large balcony of my new apartment, enjoying the sun and a nice breeze.

As for the job, I’m still waiting for paperwork to come through before anything moves (further) forward. Because I spent more than six consecutive months outside of Canada in the past five years – while pursuing my MSc in Glasgow – I had to order a records check from the UK as part of the security clearance process. On my own dime. Totally fair, I know – but it costs $160 Canadian for the expedited process and required a bunch of documents I didn’t readily have, including all my addresses for the past ten years. All just for a piece of paper that attests that no, I did not get arrested or charged with anything while living in Scotland. Whatever, you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette.

So I submitted my application for that last Thursday night, and since I paid $70 more, it’s supposed to take two working days (“not including the days of receipt or dispatch”). I opted for that because my position should start sooner rather than later; it’s a bit time-sensitive since it’s a Task Force with a lot of work to be done, not many people, and a deadline come September. That’s also what the hiring manager recommended and squares with what Michael said too, and so I obliged. I expected it to be finished Monday or Tuesday, but my new roomie checked the mailbox yesterday – and nothing yet. So hopefully something arrives today, because if not, I’m going to be really aggravated that I sprang for the “Premium Service” and it takes longer than advertised. So we’ll see, fingers crossed.

Once that is in, though – I feel like everything else will fall into place. I got fingerprinted last Thursday and also peeped some correspondence between various people within the department, all discussing and planning how to bring me on board. It was reassuring to read, definitely, that people I haven’t even met are striving to get me started in this position. They even had a tentative job title for me, “Junior Program Officer.” Again, nothing is yet guaranteed. I haven’t signed any contracts or even received a letter of offer. So it is all very exciting, certainly – but I am not getting my hopes up. That’s my kryptonite, if I haven’t said it already. Getting excited about something / having high expectations that almost nothing can reach, and then inevitably being disappointed / let down. It happens so often, so I have learned to “Lower your expectations!” (like the Amy Poehler gif) and be more realistic (pessimistic).

So there’s that. Oh, one last thing. From this e-correspondence I also gleaned that my (tentative) dates of working would be June 5^th to October 12^th. That’s the 90 days you’re eligible to work under a casual contract. And it would be perfect. Starting next Monday – so I actually have stuff going on, a way to feel accomplished, and will be advancing towards my goals – and it would be ending exactly a week before my 26^th birthday.

Which means, by that point, I would have earned all this money and would have no further commitment. So my plan is: work hard, do a great job, save up, and then take a big trip somewhere. To celebrate my birthday, reward myself after my first governmental gig, indulge that wanderlust, and hit country #30 while I’m still 25! And I even want to cross the last habitable continent off my list, so some exploration of Oceania and Southeast Asia is what I’m leaning towards most.

However – you (should) know how I am about decision-making. I hesitate to book those tickets because I have no idea what life will look like come mid-October. And from what I have heard / according to what my gut says, the field of Diversity & Inclusion is going to be “exploding” in importance this year. And I don’t want to have a 3 or 4-week international trip planned and paid for, if that would make me miss out on exciting and lucrative opportunities. One shouldn’t be unavailable for such a long time when they are just starting their careers, especially if the industry is going to be booming during their absence. SO I don’t know. But it would be really nice to do some more traveling, since Mexico was so phenomenal. Same with the Netherlands, Italy, Spain, and Portugal. Bremen, Germany was wonderful and I enjoyed Oslo too, but they weren’t stand-out recent destinations – the former because I didn’t have enough time in Deutschland and the latter because it was a bit too pricey for me, and I had less than 24 hours to explore. Anyway.

So, if I am starting my job this coming Monday, I will have much more going on in my headspace and life, and I do expect that reading, blogging, and journaling will fall by the wayside once again. So I want to finish writing up about my Yucatan adventure before that happens.

But before I continue that, I’ll tell y’all a bit about my new living sitch.

As I’ve mentioned before, I grew sick of my old apartment, on Nepean St. So I found this great place to sublet for the summer, on Sweetland Avenue, in the heart of Sandy Hill – which is the student area of the city, right near UOttawa. And this street is apparently a protected historical/heritage district, so there’s no big apartment buildings along it – but rather nice homes from the early 1900s, including the one I’m currently inhabiting.

My new roommates – Gilmour & Bailey – and I get along great, and I actually speak with them on a daily basis. The fact that there are common areas to spend time in probably facilitates that, but also, we are much closer together in age and have more in common than my previous flatmate. We might even be having a party this weekend! Which I’m absurdly excited about, because I am the one that always has / hosts social events.  In Glasgow it was Werewolves games and scary movie nights and dinner parties and actual shindigs, and in Montreal it was pre’s and more horror flicks with drinking rules and more game nights. But since I got to Ottawa. NO-THING (minus a couple people over for Smash Bros), because, what were we gonna do, hang out in my bedroom and keep the noise down? No thanks. But now that there’s a living room and big kitchen and great balcony – I want to capitalize upon that. And maybe I’ll become the central cog in a social circle again, because I realized recently that my typical role is suspiciously lacking these days. I’m excited about it.

I spend a lot of time out on the deck, reading and doing crosswords and enjoying the nice weather Ottawa’s been having recently. And I don’t have to worry about making too much noise later at night, and I can cook whenever I want to, and the freezer actually freezes things, and the Internet isn’t erratic AF. I’m very happy here. Not looking forward to moving away from here – but fortunately I don’t have to worry about that for a while yet.

 

—

 

Okay, back to Mexico. Where was I?

 

The Rest of Day 6: Tulum

I wandered more around Tulum after my delightful meal at Tropi-Q. Stopped in a place called Art+Coffee for – you guessed it – an iced americano. The guy tried to give me cold brew and upsell/overcharge me for it, but NAH BRAH, that’s not what I asked for.

I enjoyed that, perused the Internet, and strolled back to the hostel. Got into my swim stuff, dropped by a corner store for some brews, then hopped on a collectivo towards the beach! Walked along the side of the road away from all the resorts before finally arriving at Playa del Paraíso. Stripped off my shirt and shoes and ambled all the way up the beach, to catch a glimpse of the famous Tulum Ruins. It looked like you could swim to the little beach the archeological site offers, but it was nearly dusk, I had my Sol beers, and I didn’t feel like getting incarcerated by the guards for attempted trespassing. So instead, I snapped some selfies, got a kind stranger to take some other photos of me for my gratuitous shirtless Instagram posts, and settled onto the sand, leaning against a fallen tree. Cracked open the foamers, booted up my Kindle, and read more of Ellen Hopkins’ “The You I’ve Never Known” while absolutely adoring my existence at the time. I was so jubilant! The temperature was perfect, there was nearly nobody else to share the shore with (minus a few people, including two women I saw kissing – which also made me smile, because yay, queer kin!), and I was a bit tipsy off the two cans I brought with me. The beer wasn’t even that good – it had lime and salt (flavour?) added to it. I could’ve done without the extra sodium.

But anyway, that didn’t detract from anything. I was supremely happy, the book was enrapturing, and I was LIVING. FOR. IT. Eventually I couldn’t keep my elation contained any longer, so I stowed the e-reader away, dashed into the waves, and went gamboling about the surf. It was momentous. Stripped-down, simple joy.

Sunset was swiftly approaching, so I couldn’t spend too long at the shore, since it would take a while to return to the town section of Tulum. Too soon, I packed up my tingz and started walking back along the coast, then along the road, to the main drag between the beach and central parts of Tulum. Lost my shirt in the process, somehow, and had no hope of catching a collectivo – they were not as common as in Cancun, unfortunately (and unsurprisingly).

It was a long stroll back, that I didn’t particularly feel like doing – so, whatever, YOLO. I stuck my arm out, thumb out, trying to hitch a ride. If it happened, it happened, and if not – well, I had music and podcasts to keep me company on the 40-minute walk back to the Chill Inn Hostel, and a no-quitting attitude.

But it did work out, and only after a minute or two! I was very pleasantly surprised! A nice French couple – from Nice, of course, hence my adjectival use – picked me up, worried that it wasn’t safe to walk along this particular stretch of the road at night. We chatted trilingually for the short trip, in franglaispañol, and it even happened to be a symbiotic lil relationship we had. I was able to help them locate their hostel, Hostal Sheck, since it was one of the ones I was considering for my accommodations, and I just happened to pass it during my earlier wanderings. So, how about that? What goes around comes around. And it felt good to pay them back for their kindness 🙂

Finally, I returned to my own inn, showered off the sand and sea, and googled a good place for dinner. That ended up being La Malquerida, where I had a small table outdoors, right off the pedestrian street – which was perfect for the live music and acrobatics that later started to happen! I had a traditional Mayan dish of fresh-caught fish baked with tomatoes and peppers, served with rice, tortillas, and a salad. Sadly, I forget the name of the meal (that’s what happens when you’re recording all these memories a month and a half later), but I do recommend it. Check my album on Facebook for a photo of it!

 

Day 7: Coba & Tulum

Tulum is well-known for the Mayan ruins it has nearby, which are absurdly picturesque and popular with tourists. If you’ve ever seen an ad for the Mayan Riviera, there’s a very good chance it had a photo showcasing the Tulum Ruins, since it is such a mystical, magical sight. (Indeed, I just google-image-searched that phrase, and I was vindicated)

However, despite all that pulchritude, I decided not to go. The sun is no joke on the Yucatan Peninsula, and the trees (and thus shade) are few and far between at this archeological site. That, plus how crowded it would’ve been, due to its renown, plus its higher price of admission, led me to opt for the Coba Ruins instead. They’re only an hour away by bus, less well-known, and consequently cheaper and less overcrowded by turistas.

Moreover, the best feature about them over those in Tulum is how they are situated in the jungle (so, more opportunities to cool down and less risk of sunstroke), and you can climb the actual pyramid!! You used to be able to do that at Chichen Itza, but they shut that down several years ago. For sure it was hastening the erosion of these World Wonders, and it can definitely be hazardous. The pyramid I mounted had steep stairs, worn down by history and humans, and it was a bit of a perilous ascent. They had a thick rope to assist with going up and down, but even so, I kind of crab-walked when I was descending, on all fours. Wasn’t trynna to take a tumble and screw up the rest of my “trip.” (There’s another pun for ya)

It was quite the unique experience to be on top of such an ancient structure, and I definitely recommend checking it out. The views were wonderful, of course – green all around – and being so high gave you access to a great breeze, to help dry off the sweat that climbing up invited.

The rest of the site was pretty cool, too. Was kinda like Tomb Raider, with all these ruined pyramids / Mayan ball courts / other buildings emerging out of the jungle, covered in vines and with an “undiscovered” feel to them. They also had various “stelae,” which – to my understanding – are large carved stone tablets that recorded legends, or stories, or histories, or something? In any case, they were interesting to see as well.

There isn’t too much I can say about the ruins, as I didn’t have a guide to teach me about them – neither the book nor human version of that. So I enjoyed wandering around it, and that’s that.

Like the collectivos in Tulum, there weren’t many buses commuting to and from Coba either. I tried hitch-hiking again, since I had such luck with it the previous night, but no dice this time. The cost for a cab ride was prohibitive, and #DumpUber, so I bought a bus ticket then went about killing time. There are apparently some magnificent cenotes near the Coba Ruins, but unfortunately I did not have the time to go check them out. Sad! If y’all are going to be in the area and plan on hitting up Coba, you should definitely consider renting a car – maybe with some friends you meet at the hostel. That would greatly facilitate this lil day trip, and then you could spend all the time you wanted at those beautiful sinkholes.

However, I did not try this tactic. So instead, I strolled around, looking for a bite to eat. Settled down at another outdoor table and ordered an iced coffee and “stuffed avocado.” It came with tuna salad, peas, corn, and lettuce. I took a pic but it was not a photogenic meal. But still affordable, yummy, and healthy. Then wandered back to the bus stop, read more of my book, and awaited the damn ADO in the hot, hot heat. Like those in Spain, these buses played random shows/movies with the volume turned up disconcertingly high, and they were in Spanish, of course. On the way in, it was Sleeping Beauty – so I had “Once Upon a Dream” stuck in my head all day – and on the way back it was some sad, darkly-hued film about a woman’s child literally disappearing/dissolving, and then she walks up to this wild lion, that is in this random marina for some reason, because she is so distraught. Like, what ???? Quite odd, that was. So I took a lil siesta instead.

Finally got back to Tulum, booked my bus ticket to Valladolid for the next day, and returned to the hostel to decompress a bit. Chatted with the friends I made – Kirsten and Fritzi – and started planning where to go for dinner.

Then I hopped in another collectivo en route to La Eufemía, a hipster hangout highly recommended by the hostel workers. And, wouldn’t you know it, as I hop out of the minibus, I hear somebody call my name! What! How small is this world! It was Serina & Chelsea, the two Saskatchewan-ers I met back in Playa del Carmen! I knew they were in Tulum as well, but for our paths to cross like that… Wow. They had just been at the same place, too, which made me feel good about my choice.

It’s this small taquería right on the beach, with mattresses to lie on, lounge chairs, a couple hammocks, bumpin’ music, and good food and drink. I went for a quick dip to rinse/cool off, only to find out that there was seaweed everywhere. This wasn’t an issue the previous night, at Playa del Paraíso, but maybe the establishment/tourism board has to remove it themselves? And since La Eufemía was such a hippie place, they wouldn’t do such a thing, disrupting nature like that. That’s the conclusion I came to, anyway. So I’m not sure if going for a short swim actually made me any cleaner, but it did feel good to not be overheated anymore.

It was Happy Hour when I was there, too! So I had two mango margaritas (with a spicy/salty rim) and a bunch of tacos. It all was quite enjoyable, but it might’ve been the most expensive meal I had on my trip, at more than 200 pesos. But whatever, do I care? How often do I get to sit, eat authentic tacos with fresh seafood, sip on a strong cocktail, and enjoy such a priceless view? The answer is: not often enough! So I was happy to pay it. Then I stretched out on one of their beach chairs, read my book, people-watched, and witnessed day transition to night. Superb.

When I finally left the place, I once again had a miraculous / lucky return to Tulum town. I somehow managed to catch the last collectivo for the night, with only a minute to spare from when I walked out of La Eufemía to when I hopped on. I don’t know what it was about those couple days, but the stars were definitely aligned in my favour. (Or maybe it was cosmic recompensation for being so lost for my first couple hours in Tulum, who knows?)

Then: back to Chill Inn, shower off, lotion up (I was still sunburnt and peeling), and wander around more. I visited Serina & Chelsea at their hostel, the Weary Traveler. Which was definitely a hoppin’ place, and maybe I should’ve stayed there instead. Ah well, hindsight is 20/20, and it’s not like the Chill Inn was horrendous. But theirs had a free cocktail hour, live music, many more people, a pool, hammocks, etc, etc… So if you’re going, look into that.

We hung out a while, I grew jealous of their digs, then Serina & I went walking around a bit. She bought some instant noodles – fideos, a word it took me a while to remember – and then we parted, sadly. Haven’t seen her since 😦 Miss ya, girl!

I then went to a hole-in-the-wall I read about, that had dirt-cheap food. It was either four tacos al pastor or guacamole for 80 pesos, so I went for the latter, since I had had plenty of the former theretofore. It was delicious, certainly. Just wish I would’ve had enough coin to go for both! I sat at the plastic table on the sidewalk, wrote in my journal, then had two random men next to me start speaking to me in Russian. Um, excuse me? Do I look like a Muscovite? Not exactly. Funny nonetheless. They asked for my recommendations for what to do in town, and were telling me about this amazing thing they heard about. I got excited – because maybe I could rise early the next day to check it out?! – but it turned out to just be the cenotes in the area. Disappointing.

I moved onto a street cart after that, with the 70 pesos I had left on me, and asked the lady working it what I could get for that. She made me a yummy torta con pollo – like a grilled chicken sandwich, with two mini sachets of red and green salsa to accompany it – and I went back to my hostel, enjoyed my snack, and watched Scream Queens. A great way to end the night.

 

Day 8: Tulum & Valladolid

I woke up, chatted with some hostel-mates over the delightful free breakfast they served (a cute yogurt + fruit + granola, and the previous morning’s was a delicious savoury crepe with cheese and mushrooms), packed my things, and made off for greener pastures.

I went to Café Ki’bok, which was another establishment recommended on TripAdvisor. Had an amazing iced americano and used their outstanding WiFi to torrent the new episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race and The Challenge. It was, no joke, six times faster than what I had at Garry’s place. And this was in a small coffee shop in a little town in Mexico, so….. (frog emoji) (tea emoji)

Then I returned to the taquería that helped me out so much on my first day and devoured like 8 yummy tacos. They were all cheaper than 20 pesos each, with some interesting fillings like potato&chorizo, eggs&chaya (like a Mexican kale), and the usuals like chicharrón and salchicha. It’s called El Canaston, and you need to patronize it when you’re in Tulum. Cheap, delicious, environmentally-friendly, and run by darling people.

Then to the bus station, then on board, finished my book, listened to Sam Smith, and eventually got to Valladolid. Struggled through the sweltering heat with all my stuff and found my hostel, Tunich Naj. It wasn’t my first choice: everybody recommended Hostal La Candelería, which is where Kirsten & Fritzi were staying, but it was all booked up when I went to reserve a room. Oh well. I only spent one night there.

Valladolid is inland, so there’s no sea breeze to help keep things cool. Same with Merida. So this part of my trip was especially moist. Fortunately, there is a phenomenal cenote right in the middle of the city, which happened to be a short five-block walk from my hostel! So I unpacked, changed into my trusty Speedo, and made a beeline straight there, after getting sweaty in the process of lugging my backpack around.

It’s called Cenote Zací, and it was my favourite one of the trip. Also the biggest, the most spectacular, the least crowded, and the cheapest – an absolute steal at 30 pesos. So you need to make that happen, if you’re in town. And, continuing the trend of it being a small world or my luck coming through in these couple days – as I’m walking down to the sinkhole, I run into Kirsten & Fritzi! I suppose Valladolid is a smaller town without all that much to do, but still, it’s quite something that I had these serendipitous meet-ups during my trip. That’s the magic of travel.

And I’m even happier they were there, because their presence (and Kirsten’s accompanying me) gave me the nerve to jump off a cliff into the water! Cenotes are hella deep, so there’s no risk of hitting the bottom – but still, it was quite the distance to fall before smacking the surface. Maybe 25 feet? And naturally, it looks a lot higher when you’re actually up there, about to “take the plunge,” than from afar. Both K and I did it, and Fritzi was nice enough to take photos and record it, and oh WOW was it thrilling. It was a bit painful, hitting the water from such a height – and my arms were reddened from the impact – but wow, there’s nothing like that adrenaline rush. I ended up jumping off three different times, and it was a hell of a time. The girls were telling me others leapt into the water from even higher – from atop this tree on the outside of the cavern – but NOPE, forget that. It would involve climbing the tree, jumping out instead of just down, and avoiding the rope at the bottom. Who am I, Brendan Prouse? No thanks, I’ll pass. “Challenge by choice,” right Emily?

I really enjoyed swimming around and cooling off. It was a stupendous place to spend a sweltering afternoon, being in awe of these natural wonders, and watching the light shift over the cave’s walls. I encouraged others to cliff-jump too, and clapped when they surfaced after. Some of these were a group of Italian girls, one of whom later asked me about my nipple piercing, if it hurt, as she was gonna get hers done soon. I’m always glad to be a source of information, and it’s a surprisingly common question I get – but this usually comes from people I know, and not total strangers. Pretty funny, though. I guess I look approachable enough?

When the cenote closed for the day, I went back to my hostel, showered, changed, and struck out for dinner. The receptionist told me about this place, La Selva (the forest), which corresponded with TripAdvisor’s recommendations. When I walked in, though, there was nobody else there – which is never a good sign when you’re looking for a restaurant. I wasn’t cowed, though (and was also famished), and it turned out well after all. I ordered essentially one of everything from their menu, since the prices were that good (20-30 pesos). I got a cheese empanada, a meat one, a salbut, chalupa, sope, tostada, and one other thing, and oh wow, it was delicious. I used a bit too much habanero sauce on these, so I was perspiring from the heat, but everything was yummy. Lots of deep-fried goodness.

Then wandered ‘round the city, picked up some canned cocktails from a neighbourhood grocer, sat in the main plaza (Parque Francisco Canton) and started a new book – this time Liane Moriarty’s “Truly Madly Guilty” – while sipping on a margarita and gazing at the city’s cathedral, all illuminated. Then walked to the Convento de San Bernadino, an old nunnery, which had a light show projected onto it, detailing the history of Mayan civilization, Spanish colonialism, and how Valladolid came to be the place it is today. Nothing like free entertainment, especially on such a balmy night!

Finally, returned to the hostel and watched the new ep of The Challenge: Invasion outdoors, while drinking a cuba libra. Then packed it in for the night, turned in early, because the next day, I was up at 7:30, to get to Chichen Itza before it became too crowded and hot with the midday sun.

And that is what I will write about next! Because I’m over 4550 words and have been hungry for hours and it’s already after 10pm and I want to get off the computer and watch the new episode of The Challenge – but this time it’s Champs vs. Pros!

 

—

 

Finally: I went to various other CrossFit classes with “Woodsy” at KRX Fitness, to make the most of the two-week trial they gave me. Really liked it (and was surprised at that), and I did see progress in myself, especially with my stamina… But it costs $125 per month and has limited hours. I prefer to go at my own pace, anyway, so I just signed up for another two-week trial yesterday, with Anytime Fitness. Back to regular weightlifting (back squat, deadlift, chest press, bicep curl, leg press, tricep press-down) with all the time I need for rest between sets.

But I’m glad I got to try it out, as I’d been curious about CrossFit for years (thanks to The Challenge, honestly). And it was fun meeting the other people who patronize that gym, particularly Carolyn, the trainer. She’s a sweetheart and I miss her 😦

 

One last thing: thanks to Ernie, I found out about an underwear fashion show tomorrow, sponsored by Stroked Ego and taking place at Lookout, to fundraise for the Ten Oaks Project. Sounds like something I wanted to check out anyway, but like with trivia – why spend my own money to do something when, instead, I could get paid for doing it myself? I messaged the organizer, and voila, fortune favours the bold, I’ll be modeling some underwear on the runway tomorrow! Alongside all these ūberfit GOV players, sure, so maybe I won’t be looking the best – but whatever, it’s a different aesthetic I have going for me, no más. Is #Dadbod still in?

So if you want a fun night AND to contribute to an amazing cause, come out to Lookout tomorrow! Doors open at 8 and it’s only $10! Come support the kids and keep me company / distract me from the fact that I do not have an eight-pack like the other models !!

 

‘Til next time darlings. And keep your fingers crossed that this UK record check comes in pronto!

 

All the best,

 

– Jefe

Some T about My Governmental Job Opp, A New Home (for the Summer), CrossFit, & More Mexico/Travel Ramblings!

Oh! Wow! I didn’t see you there! Funny meeting you in a place like this.

 

Anyhow.

 

So I have amazing news. I am quite sure that I have landed a job in government, working in Diversity & Inclusion, on a casual contract basis. Which means I have 90 working days at my disposal, and once I deplete those, I can’t work in the same department until the start of the next governmental year.

Which might not seem ideal, but people do that throughout their entire careers, without ever having periods of unemployment. They just go from casual contract to casual contract to cazh-con to CC, and then the year begins again, and you can return to the original department!

And once you are already in government, it becomes much easier to get other jobs within it. So this opportunity is a foot in the door, along with many other benefits. The work is something I care passionately about – how to encourage diversity, enhance inclusion, and dismantle obstacles to both in the workplace – and also an area I will excel in. I bring expertise to the table, particularly related to the LGBTQ+ angle that is so emergent these days. My future department wants to be proactive in their policies, to be on the vanguard of the movement to increase Diversity & Inclusion, and I will aid in that.

The job will also involve a good amount of research, collecting data, analyzing it, synthesizing it all into a coherent report, and publicizing the findings. More strengths of mine, thanks to the three papers I did that involved performing my own empirical research, with my master’s thesis as the obvious example. My experience with online content creation – through social media and blogging for the Lambda Foundation, Camp Wynchemna, and as part of the AUCC Students for Development grant I received to be an intern at Nexos Voluntarios – will also prove useful in this position.

The 90 days will start sooner rather than later, since the Task Force I will be a part of must create that report by September – and from what I understand, at least one person (but maybe two) of the already-small group is on leave. So it’s a bit time-sensitive, it seems, so I’m hoping to hear back from the woman next week and maybe even hit the ground running by Wednesday. I got a phone call the day after the meeting, in which she asked for my full legal name and date of birth – which I take as a sign that they are starting the security clearance process for me. Which they wouldn’t do if they weren’t serious about this / moving forward with my hiring. So I’m super excited about this!

And this casual contract will take me until the end of the summer, and with any luck, I’ll have found another position by then. I’m optimistic, and very excited about the whole opportunity. It came at a great time, too, since last week I was literally pounding the pavement, handing off resumes to all these restaurants to be a server, just so I had something to do / a reason to get out of the house.

Also, I told my roommate a week and a half ago that I’m moving out, so I’ve been apartment-hunting. Even still, I was hesitant to commit to a full summer sublet, just because who knows where I would be come mid-august? What if the reality TV show came through? What if nothing else in Ottawa manifested, and I decided to work on the high ropes course again? What if I decided to forget the whole thing, fly the coop, and travel the world? I didn’t want to be locked down to an apartment here in O-Town, or say I would take something for the full summer and then have to back out (and thereby let somebody down). So I had decided to move into Julia Conzon’s new roommate’s empty room until mid-July, and then figure it out then.

But now that I (likely) have something until the fall, I can find a place longer-term. And so I did. I’m moving this Sunday or Monday into this really great apartment on Sweetland Ave, in Sandy Hill. I already met the two people I’ll be cohabitating with – Gilmour and Bailey – and even the lil cat Luna. The place is very nice, especially for the price I’m paying. Top floor of a beautifully-designed past-century house, with a large balcony, air conditioning, and even a dishwasher! Plus, you know, some amenities that are commonplace but that I have missed while residing in the current, Nepean St location. Those being a living room / common area and reliable Internet. The place is furnished as well, and G & B seem sweet, fun, and with more in common with me than my current roomie. So I’m excited about it! Yay! (Will just potentially have to buy a TV monitor so I can keep enjoying my BBCan5 & RPDR & trashy MTV shows!)

Speaking of, the finale of The Challenge: Invasion (of the Champions) just aired on Tuesday, and I happened to place FIRST in my league of the official MTV Fantasy Competition! So, from what I understand, I won myself a trip to the VMAs, maybe for two, which are happening in California in late August. Now, I got first place in my own public league, but I am not the person with the most points over everybody who entered. So… I guess we’ll see what happens? I haven’t received an email yet, but it hasn’t been that long since the finale showed. In any case, earning first place is thrilling in itself.

And one more piece of exciting news – I am checking out KRX Fitness, a Cross-Fit gym with a free two-week trial, in an hour with the singular Nick Woodward! I’m a bit cowed by the prospect of potentially puking from (over)exertion, but looking forward to it nonetheless. I gotta push past my comfort zone and “Challenge” myself, right?

SO before I dive right into the working world again, and probably get overwhelmed at the beginning (since I fully expect it to be a lot of work and very challenging, but I’m looking forward to that, so I can grow and learn and become a better worker and person), I should finish up writing up Mexico. So, shall we?

—

Day 5: Akumal

 

My fifth day started in Playa del Carmen, where I met my hostel buddies up on the rooftop for the breakfast. They were all going to Akumal Beach, famous for being the place where you can swim alongside sea turtles. I looked it up on TripAdvisor, and somebody had recently left a review saying that there was a suspension on snorkeling with the tortugas. But these new travel friends had heard from others that it was still on, and it was a cheap collectivo ride away, and apparently a beautiful beach – so even if I didn’t spy any sea turtles, it would still be a good day. What else would I have done, anyway? I had woken up, planning to go to XPLOR, an adventure theme park with ziplining, rafting down an underground river, a buffet lunch. It was something like $90 US, but for a full day of thrilling activities PLUS all the food I could eat, that price is justifiable. Trying to kick my oft-tight-fisted instincts anyway. Alas, you could not buy tickets online for the day of (no idea why), and I wasn’t going to just appear at the park and hope they had space left – and also pay the full price (~$125) without any discounts. So I switched my plans up last-minute.

So Serina & Meg go first, since they were ready, rarin’ to go, and I didn’t want to hold them up. I told them I’d meet them there, like I did with the Kiwi Couple, and if it were meant to be, then I would find them. And if not, well, I have no trouble spending a day at the beach alone.

I take my sweet time getting ready, meander to the collectivo station, grab an iced coffee on the way, stop in a cute lil café for some food to go, end up chatting with the cashier – who was yet another Canadian – then hop in a minibus headed south. I strike up a conversation with my seatmate, another Canadian, and pick his brain about what’s to do around there. I considered doing XPLOR the next day, and just storing my stuff in a locker while en route to the next town, but through talking with this guy, it became clear to me that – contrary to what I had originally thought – I actually was running out of time. And this was not even halfway through my trip! And was originally worrying that I wouldn’t have enough to fill up my days!

This convenient chit-chat decided various things for me. There was not enough time for me to go to Belize (which would’ve been my thirtieth country), which wasn’t advised anyway. I didn’t even have enough days to justify riding all the way down to Bacalar for a day and a night, even if that was recommended to me, for its idyllic charm and picturesque five-hued blue lagoon. So I made my mind up. It would be Tulum-Coba-Valladolid-Chichen Itza-Merida-Cancun-Isla Mujeres. And that’s exactly what I did, and I don’t regret any of it.

Anyhow, I eventually get to Akumal – it was further than expected – and wander along the white sand beach, looking out for a spot to sit in the shade of a palm tree and also keeping my eyes open for the two girlies. And I manage to find both. Meg & Serina were sitting in the blazing sun, and I wasn’t trying to get even more toasted, so I go and claim a nice lil plot for us further up the beach. I eat my sandwich, smile at the shoreline, read my book, and then shoot the breeze with those two when they meander over. Then I go splashing around the waves solo, goggles on, hunting for some turtle friends. I never locate any of them, sadly (even though Meg did), but I do swim /drift over some coral and other fishies. The water felt amazing, of course, and I fully appreciated how I was in legitimate paradise once again. Couldn’t get enough of it.

[And then while walking back to the girls, some random woman who passes me says, “Wow! That’s a tiny swimsuit!” Like, really? Did I ask you? Is it really that small? No and no, so sashay away. Still good for some laughs tho.]

When the three of us tire of the beach / grow a little hungry, we go searching for a place for a bite, ultimately settling on this low-key cantina with a comida corrida (like a menu of the day, a cheap multi-course meal). I had fish tacos with beans and rice. I figured, since we were so close to the beach, it would be supa fresh. And maybe it was, I can’t remember. The food wasn’t remarkable, but it was certainly affordable.

And then we return to Playa and stroll down La Quinta. I wanted to go back to the Mamitas Beach Club / homosection and swim some more, but the ladies didn’t, so we split. And went and frolicked in the ocean some, and it was all so blissful. I’m missing it now, that feeling of complete liberation from cares & concerns. And the temperature was like bathwater. Amazing.

The night went similar to the two previous. Free Happy Hour on the roof, Meg & I timing ourselves chugging these drinks, giggling and laughing and chatting with everyone, and then our random contingent going on a ragtag adventure. We stopped for delicious & super cheap quesadillas, then meandered to another hostel that both V and I had heard was having a party tonight. We manage to find it (it was all the way across town), climb the stairs, and waltz right in. You know that secret, pretend you belong there, act like you own the place, and people won’t stop you? So I tried that… But unsuccessfully. The party was packed, so if I just moved a bit faster, I could’ve escaped paying the cover. And don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t aware that you had to give money to get in, so I just entered like I usually do at parties. But the doorman came up and seemed a bit angry with me. Like, sorry dude, you didn’t post the price anywhere.

Regardless, it was TWO HUNDRED PESOS to get in. Which doesn’t really translate to much in Canadian money (like $15), and it came with a large (triple) tequila drink… But still, I was salty about it. Only the dudes had to pay, the six of us (3 girls & 3 guys) talked about splitting the difference so all of us only gave 100, but when I went to collect from my friends, the deal was off. Easy to get annoyed by that when you’re drinking, but really, what’s the point? I’m fortunate enough in my life that I really don’t give a damn about losing $7. And my frugality can often be a weakness. So it’s literally whatever.

The party on top of this hostel wasn’t really great, either. Too-loud trancey music (which I’m not into and which prevented talking) and not enough room to really walk around or dance – but still hot bartenders and cool fire-dancers. So Meg & I ditched it after not too long, and the rest of the night was my favourite. We went back to the gay club, which was even emptier and sadder than the previous night, so we did a little tour, snapped some photos in the dance cages they had in there, laughed about the whole thing. Then popped in this super random club right next door that still looked like it was setting up for the night and definitely not open – all their lights were on and people were putting out chairs – but Meg and I just pranced around the dance floor. Literally. Skipping and jumping and doing sloppy pirouettes and somersaults and handstands and acting like we were in the tumbling section of a gymnastics comp. It was SO much fun, so stupid and silly and harmless and enjoyable. The BEST.

It was clear we weren’t really welcome, and the employees/owners didn’t know what to do with two gringos borrachitos just making fools of themselves (they didn’t say anything to us at all, but I feel like I asked “Está abierto?” when we entered) – so we left after not too long, and went in search of some eats.

Wandered down La Quinta, which isn’t really known for its cheap food. We stopped at a pizza/empanada place – I had a shrimp slice – and Meg was hilariously trying to bargain the guy down for an empanada or two. In both English and (basic) Spanish, her Australian accent and all, and she was trying so hard. But he wouldn’t budge! I tell you, it was a sight to behold. And she bought one anyway, and grumbled that it wasn’t even worth the money. EL OH EL.

But we made up for this by going to the old favourite, El Fogón. She got some quesadillas, I ordered yummy nachos, and we had a great time. Even though I spilled some salsa on my pants, washed it off at the sink, and it looked like I peed myself. But I didn’t care at all. It was a fabulous night, my favourite during the entire trip, and Meg solidified herself as somebody I can definitely kiki with / get ridiculous and be silly and have the most fun. Miss you so much, girl!

The friends I made in Playa del Carmen & the wonderful place I stayed in made it the stand-out of the whole twelve days. I had good hostel experiences elsewhere, for sure, but PDC was legendary.

And that brings me to….

 

Day 6: Tulum

I wake up, get breakfast, say adios to my lovely nuevos amigos, then go to the ChouChou Café, an adorable and beautiful coffee shop down the street from the hostel on the way to the collectivo station. Perfect. I sit on the porch, have a delicious shakerito (espresso + ice + un poquitito, no más, of milk), and enjoy the ambiance… Then head to grab a minibus to my next stop, sweating profusely because I’m carrying all my stuff and it is bloody hot out. All part of the charm, though.

I probably chat up my seatmate on the ride down, I’m not sure. I did that various times, because the best suggestions come from the locals. And I get to Tulum and have the most trouble finding my hostel. It was actually dreadful, maybe the lowest part of the trip. I had an address and a pin dropped on Google Maps, and I walked up and down the damn street searching for it numerous times. Of course, this being relatively rural Mexico, there weren’t many numbers on the houses to assist me with locating it. And I even stopped in various nicer-looking restaurants and asked them if they knew where it was, and they had never even heard of it! One guy even used his own phone to Google it, with no progress made, and then TWICE called the number they had given me, but nobody picked up. Like, what?! Am I being punk’d? What is the deal? And it was sweltering out and the area it was supposed to be in wasn’t the nicest and I lost a little bit of hope, to be honest. I didn’t want to wander all the way to another hostel, in hopes that they had a bunk available (since the one that was recommended to me was all full-up), when I still felt I was going to actually find the “Chill Inn Hostel.” And I didn’t want to be charged for the original one, if I wasn’t staying there, or go through the rigmarole of reversing that charge.

So FINALLY I manage to hunt down the place. They did have their number posted, but it was hard to see – and since NONE of the surrounding buildings did, I wasn’t really looking for that. They had ABSOLUTELY NO SIGN outside to signify that, “Yes, international travellers – without working cell phones or knowledge of this area and maybe even no command of the local language – this is the hostel you’re staying at! Super easy to find!” SO DUMB.

I was livid when I entered. And when I expressed this, and told the worker (en español) that there was no sign and how are people supposed to locate it if you’re not doing anything to facilitate that, by putting something at least a bit recognizable outside, all she said was, “We don’t need one. If you know where it is you can find it.” Like, yes, obviously if you know where to look for it you can locate it… But people who have never been to the hostel or even to Tulum will have no idea! And she was absolutely nonplussed about the whole thing. Aaarrgghhh, maddening!

I vented a bit more to two young, blonde girls that were in the hostel too, Fritzi (German) and Kirsten (Dutch). And that wasn’t the greatest first impression, let me tell you. Sweaty and frazzled and – by how relaxed everybody else was – seemingly overreacting. Fortunately that didn’t really appall them too much, as we ended up hanging out later at the hostel, and in Valladolid, and even at Chichen Itza.

I went into my room, cooled off a bit – both literally and figuratively – then went out for some lunch. Maybe I was a bit hangry as well. Probably. Returned to the taqueria with the gentleman who rang the hostel and really tried to help me out, because I wanted to show him my gratitude. Unfortunately, they were out of tacos for that day, so I ended up patronizing that establishment on my last afternoon in Tulum.

Instead, I ate at Tropi-Q, which had an amazing comida corrida for ~120 pesos. If I remember correctly, it was cucumbers with cayenne pepper, then some fresh bread, with papaya agua fresca, then spaghetti with spinach and olive oil, and finally pork with black beans and a Mexican-style ratatouille. Chopped/sautéed vegetables with sour cream and some cheese. Everything was delicious, it was so cheap, and I sat out on the patio and people-watched.

I had a conversation with my neighbour, as well, who was an American woman in her 30s or 40s who just upped and moved to Tulum for two months, to get away from the hustle+bustle of US life. She was studying Spanish and enjoying the beach and just taking it easy. Very Eat, Pray, Love of her, and I value that. Tulum has that effect on people, I gathered. Everyone seemed to absolutely adore the town, and it’s somewhat of a surfers’ paradise. Amy Demone spent eight full days there, just working during the day then heading to coastline at night, and doing yoga on the sand. Tulum is, like, the hot new thing in Mexico. Very trendy and upcoming and hipster. I certainly liked it, don’t get me wrong – but maybe it’s a bit overrated? I don’t know. I didn’t spend the most time there, so maybe I didn’t relax to the extent I should’ve or really took the time to absorb all the town had to offer. I don’t know.

What I didn’t love about Tulum is that it has two parts: the town (which is a bit dingy + dusty, to be honest) and the beach, which is much nicer, greener, and paradisiacal. Which means, of course, that it is more touristy and expensive, with the classier restaurants and beach resorts. And in order to go from one to the other, you either had to rent a bike or take a collectivo – the former which I didn’t spring for, since I never spent a full day there, and the latter which were not as regular as in Cancun.

Still, Tulum was awesome, and definitely worth the visit – because it’s the new thing to do, if nothing else. I’ll finish up writing about it later, as this is at ~3800 words currently & I have exciting plans to grab a drink right now!

 

So there you have it: some T about the job sitch, my new home (printing out + signing the sublease today), and more travel ramblings.

Hope y’all enjoyed. And I welcome your feedback! Do you want more funny stories and misadventures? Or more musings and philosophical insights? Or straight-to-the-point, what-did-I-do-in-Mexico details? Or a mixture of all of them. Let me know.

‘Til next time my darlings,

Love+light,

 

– Jefe

Work Woes, Career Hope(s), & A Spontaneous Trip to Mexico

Hola hola hola!

 

So as most of you probably know, due to my gratuitous and douchey and wonderful Instagram posts, I am currently in Mexico! Traveling around for twelve days. Olé! (And if you don’t follow me on IG, then you’re missing some fire. It’s instagram.com/tommytopaz if you’re curious)

And right now, I’m on a night bus from Valladolid to Merida, which is my penultimate town. After two nights in the “American Capital of Culture,” I’m taking yet another long bus ride back to Cancun, sleeping two nights (and doing several amazing things – more on that later), then hopping on my plane back to Canada. And I am not looking forward to it, to tell you the truth. These past couple weeks have been magical, and I’ve enjoyed myself so much. I’ve been wanting to visit Mexico for years now, and I finally made it! It’s so great to get away from icy old Ottawa and the stress it brings me.

Of course, though – as they say – one of the best (or better, I guess) things about traveling is coming home. In that, you can’t miss something if you never leave, and you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone. Meaning the comforts of home, the convenience, the familiarity, the stasis. So there are things I’m excited about returning to – like my own bed and weekly board game nights and… That might be it. I haven’t been gone very long, of course, so I’m not missing things too much. Naturally, it’d be nice to see or hang out with some of my friends from back in O-Town (Colum, Amy, Dean, Elena, Luke, Tim, Kai, Eleanore, Eliot), but to be frank, I’d rather be in some exotic country and gaining new experiences than doing the same-old, same-old. Nothing against those people, but I crave adventure and excitement. And I’ll be back soon enough, so fret not!

I intended to write a blog update while in the airport before flying south, as I was wont to do during my travels in Europe. Because I wanted to write more fully / wax indignant about my experiences at the Canadian Centre for Gender & Sexual Diversity, to get it out of my system and close that chapter, move on to bigger + better + brighter things. However, I don’t want to get in trouble for doing so, or bad-mouth my previous employer, or really go back and worry about all that stuff again… SO, suffice it to say, I am not 100% pleased with how things turned out with the CCGSD.

I moved to Ottawa for that job, when I have no family or network or support structure there, at all – and I saw myself being with the organization for maybe 2-4 years. Which I soon enough revised to a year and a half, to finish out the first grant for the Sports Inclusion Program. I wanted to stick with it, commit, do a great job, educate 7000 people about LGBTQ+ topics, and build an unshakable foundation for the Program and its (hopefully) illustrious future.

Things started a-changin’, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I was wracked with indecision and second-guessing myself, not knowing what to do or what call to make. I spoke lots with my parents and friends (mostly Enbal, love you En-doll) about it, wrote in my journal, and did some deep thinking. And I decided: I am not in a desperate position, not backed into a corner. There are other options for me, and I do not absolutely need this job. I am super fortunate to have two post-secondary degrees from reputable institutions, a good amount and broad variety of work/life experience, youthful vigour, driving passion, and money in the bank. I live fairly simply and am not profligate with my spending, so I have managed to accrue sufficient dinero to pay for rent + food for a while.

And the whole situation was stressing me out and weighing me down, and it was just so unnecessary. So I resigned. However – because I care about the Program (still do) and believe in the positive effect I/we/it has on people, particularly LGBTQ+ youth – I offered to work an extra week or two, to ease the transition to a new Sports inclusion Coordinator. This was still before my three month-iversary with the Centre, mind you, so by the Employment Standards Act, I was not required to give any notice at all to quit. But if I talked the talk, I had to walk the walk – be a man of my word. I wanted to be a decent person, end on a positive note, and take the moral high road. So that is what I was willing to give them.

Then they asked if I could work four weeks instead, because the transition would take longer that I offered, so I (tentatively) said yes. And then the next day, it became five weeks (two weeks for the job posting to be live and to collect/review applications, one for first interviews, one for second interviews and hiring, and the final one where I would be training my successor). And still I agreed, and signed a new contract holding myself to that. And that is what it was gonna be.

But you know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and (wo)men. I ended up having my last day on Tuesday the 21^st – so I didn’t actually train my replacement, after all was said and done. I was finished, dunzo, without further obligations… But still I wanted to do more, because I do want what’s best for the Program. So in lieu of educating my successor tête-à-tête, I volunteered to write up a transition document, to (try to) impart all I’ve learned about the position and all I believe they should know when they start as the new Sports Inclusion Coordinator. I didn’t have to do this, and maybe I shouldn’t’ve bothered after all – but I considered it valuable to do (since I didn’t have any real guidance when I began as the SIC), and I wanted the new me to start off on the best foot possible. So I don’t regret it, and I do hope they benefit from it. Absolutely they’ll learn something, so I’m glad I took the time to create that document. It would’ve been better to train them in person, since I am an educator, after all – but something’s better than nothing.

—

And now I’m done with the CCGSD! A free agent! Untethered & unfettered!

Also, on my last official day with the organization, I just happened to have an amazing meeting with a VIP in government scheduled for the afternoon. So I went home, dropped my stuff off, brushed up on the notes I had taken during my research for this meeting/potential job interview, mouthwashed, and got myself in the mindset to charm, sparkle, effervesce, impress. Then I strolled in the beautiful spring weather to a towering office building, was signed in by one of my contact’s employees, slapped on a visitor’s pass, and sat down with the Senior Director of Diversity & Inclusion and Employment Equity for one of the governmental branches. And let me tell you, it went phenomenally.

She was also bubbly and happy and excited. I fed off her positive energy (and maybe vice-versa), and we had a great time together. I couldn’t stop smiling. Her upbeat, sunny mood was infectious, and she was saying the nicest things about me, my experience, and my résumé. The field of Diversity & Inclusion in government is going to blow up / massively increase in effect and importance in the new future, she believes, and this is especially the case for the LGBTQ+ angle. She (and indeed, the government) needs passionate and knowledgeable people to come in, educate others about the importance of D&I, help guide the development of the policies, and assist in the creation of a better, more representative, and more supportive future for government and the nation. She was impressed with my CV and expertise and wants me to be involved – and I want the same, definitely. She was so sweet, of course – but she was also determined and dedicated and really believes in this cause. I respect that, completely.

The issue is… There is no current position opening for this. Or funding, either. And creating such a job will take time, and filling it presents its own obstacles. In order to hire somebody external (i.e. me), she’ll need to demonstrate how she went through the entire public service and didn’t find anybody suitable for the role. Which, to me, seems like an arduous task. How big is the public service, right? In Ottawa, certainly – but also nationwide.

I wholeheartedly believe I am a qualified individual and strong candidate and great person for many positions in various fields, don’t get me wrong. I know that – but the difficulty is helping others see that, to take a chance on / put their trust in me, to allow me to rise to the occasion and impress them, do them proud. I know I can do it, and that when you give me responsibility, I will teach myself and work hard and strive to do the best job possible. I have a strong work ethic, and I want to do well. That drives me.

So we’ll see what happens. From what I understand, she is trying to see if she can create a position for me in her department, and to figure out how she can fast-track the application and external hiring process so it won’t take months. (Because of that governmental bureaucracy, natch.) And I believe she is also circulating my CV around to her contacts, such as those in the Canadian Human Rights Commission. And I have my two friends Michael and Denis pulling for me in their respective areas, too, of which I am hugely appreciative. I have a coffee klatch set up for three weeks from now thanks to this, so I’m looking forward to that. I have other feelers out as well, and several applications I have submitted or will complete in the near future. Essentially, I’m on the job hunt again – but not super intensely (just yet). Instead, I’m enjoying Mexico to the fullest.

And on that note, I should get going. We’re almost to el centro de Merida, and I gotta pack my computer away. Also, remember that time I said I wouldn’t write about what happened with the CCGSD? El oh el, me too. But it feels good, it feels right. So I’m pleased about that.

Ciao for now – and I’ll try and write all about this fabulous trip when I’m at the airport on Monday morning. Hopefully the Cancun departure area will have a legit café, because Ottawa’s certainly didn’t.

 

Hasta pronto,

– Jefecito