The ocean’s heart beats to Banda. {Mexicolandia}

When we go to Mexico, we stay with my aunt and uncle and for two weeks we live in their house on the hill with its palapa roof and red tile floor, the color of brick. The kitchen is open and from the sink, you can see: pink bouganvilla, palm trees, the streets of the town below and the ocean, spread out like a sheet on the hazy horizon. In the evenings, two geckos play chase along the walls, chattering to each other as they skitter into hiding. At night, I lay in bed and listen to the steady whirring of the ceiling fan and the crash of the waves in the distance–the ocean’s heartbeat. On weekend nights, there are dance parties in the town square, and I fall asleep to the echo of shoulder-rolling, feet-stomping Banda and the rhythmic tuba infused sounds of Durangense. And then all night, I have shining (lights, camera, action!) dreams that I am the tight-white-jeans clad star of this video.