Last Saturday evening, 5:30 pm. Mathias’ weekend begins, finally. All the hard work and the pressure of the past week falls through the holes of our Mexican hammock. A moment of peacefulness.
Yes, I know, we live in Colombia but we have a Mexican hammock. How is that even possible? I will explain..
We went to Mexico last year on vacation and walked into an artesanal Mexican market. After walking around for a few minutes I was drawn by the hammocks. And as the vendor started talking, a feeling inside of me grew that knew we would be going home with a hammock, even though, at that time, we lived in a small apartment without garden or balcony or terrace. So totally useless. Mathias really looked at me like I was crazy. But you have to take the chances when they occur! Who knows when we would ever go to Mexico again.. So I just HAD to buy it. And it had to be that one, in Mexico, with the great vendor who passionately talked about the quality and function of this hammock, that made me reminisce about my childhood vacations with my mother, brother and sister.
We always went camping and we had this huge Mexican (or Mexican-look-a-like) hammock in which we could lie with the four of us (up until a certain age, of course). But I loved it. And sometimes my mom would let me sleep in it, under the tree, under the night sky. Heaven!
We ended up buying the hammock for half of the price because that was all we had in cash, and the vendor really wanted to sell it to us. And now, every time I lay myself in our cheap, beautiful, high-quality, Mexican hamaca, I am remembered of these amazing trips at our thousand-star-campings (as our mother used to call them).