My first week at my art residency in Mérida has already begun shaping me in ways I did not expect. The historic mansion where I am staying feels alive with its own quiet memory. Sun-washed walls hold the warmth of the day long after sunset. Tropical plants unfurl beside ancient stone. Dried coral, gathered from the land over generations, rests throughout the house like small offerings from the earth.
In this environment I have begun my first watercolor painting. The cenote on the property inspired its cool, deep tones. The coral offered textures that feel both fragile and eternal. From these two elements an older Mexican woman emerged on the paper. Her face carries the weight and wisdom of a life deeply felt. She seems to hold the same quiet knowledge that the land around me carries, a reminder that strength often arrives without words.
Navigating a New Country After So Long
It has been more than eight years since I traveled in a meaningful way, and stepping into a new country alone has stirred something bright within me. There is a childlike joy in finding my way again. I am learning how to read unfamiliar streets, how to listen for cues in a language I am still discovering, and how to trust the gentle pull of curiosity.
The people here have met me with genuine warmth. Chuy, the property manager at the mansion where I am staying, does not speak any English. His patience with my broken Spanish and my frequent charades has meant more than he probably knows. He goes out of his way to accommodate my needs, and his kindness has been one of the softest parts of my transition into this new place.
A City Full of Heart
On Sunday I saw a side of Mérida that felt especially tender. The city closed Paseo de Montejo, one of the oldest and most beloved boulevards here, and opened it for families and individuals to enjoy at their own pace. People rode bikes, skated, or traveled together in four-person bike carts. Laughter and movement filled the avenue in a way that felt both lively and peaceful.
Later in the city center, the energy continued. Free concerts, dancers, and local artisans surrounded the park. Handmade goods filled the walkways. The entire downtown felt like a daytime celebration of community, a place where people gathered to enjoy one another’s presence and the simple joy of being outside together.
Finding My Energetic Footing
There have been moments of challenge as well. New places can stir old uncertainties, and I have felt myself wobble as I adjust to the different rhythms of life here. At times the energy around me feels faster or heavier than my own, and I momentarily lose my balance.
I am learning that I do not need to change myself to belong here. I do not need to reach outward or force anything. Instead I am practicing the art of holding my own energy with intention. When I do that, everything around me begins to settle. I find my footing more naturally. The light within me becomes enough, drawing forward what I need and allowing the rest to fall away.
This first week has been a quiet unfolding. A blend of tenderness, growth, and a return to parts of myself I did not realize had been waiting. I feel grateful to be here, learning how to see in new ways, and allowing the city to reveal itself to me one gentle moment at a time.
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