Just about every day on our creative writing retreats is special – after all, retreats are not only a chance to learn, they are also full of new experiences and great memories. Writing retreats are holidays, too!
But there are some days so magnificent that they take your breath away and feed your soul. Yesterday on our Mexico Creative Writing Retreat was one of those days.
Writing Workshop
We began in the morning with a workshop on five act structure. I hadn’t expected this to be quite so meaningful to so many of our writers, but we have several people here with ideas for novels and memoirs, or with books-in-progress that have stalled on the way. We ended with two terrific writers sharing their work for feedback, one a short story and another an excerpt from a novella in progress.
Flamingos, Mangroves and More
In the afternoon we drove to Celestun, an hour North of Merida, famous the world over for its flamingos. A festival was in process when we arrived at the dock, people dancing to a live band, eating street food and having fun. Our guide – who looked like Indiana Jones – showed us to our boat, and we were off.
The sun came out as we drove through the estuary which was alive wiith bird life – whole flocks of pelicans, frigatebirds and cormorants rising up from the mangroves in all directions, hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands. I’ve travelled the world over, but rarely have I seen such a concentration of birds.
We were already in a state of wonder when we saw the flamingos – a pink line on the horizon. When we grew closer, the boat cut its engine and we glided towards them. There were three, perhaps four hundred flamingos feeding on shrimp in the shallows, and we were maybe twenty feet away. It was an astonishing sight, magical, something to take your breath away. We leaned over the edge of the boat, taking videos, firing questions at our guide. The meaning of the moment was so much more than any of us had expected, and we were filled with wonder.
There is something gorgeous about a flamingo. The colour, the beauty of their feathers seen close up, the chaotic, duck-call calls, the impossibly thin neck and legs. When they fly low over the flock, the underside of the wings are black, their bodies thin between wide-spreading wings.
There is something you feel inside, at a moment like this. It’s a reminder of the wonders of nature. A jolt passes through your body as you think how good it is to be alive, and how such moments connect you to the world.
But this wasn’t the only moment like that today – it was just the first.
The boat driver turned around, but as he sped down the estuary, he turned suddenly into the mangroves, down a dark and meandering channel that seemed too narrow for the boat. There were gasps from each of our writers at the speed, the dim light, the mangroves crowding in all around us – and the deep red streaks in the water, something surreal. It felt ghoulish as well as beautiful, but it was totally natural. Our guide said the red water was caused by the pigment of the leaves and roots. I’ve read it’s a concentration of shrimp. Whichever is true, it was totally natural, if bizarre, and for moments we were transfixed by the sight. The boat slowed, and it felt as if we were in a cavern, the mangroves like stalagmites around us. Cocodiles watched us from the shallows.
Then we were out again into sunshine.
The bird life in this part of the mangroves was astonishing. White egrets like huge blossoms in the trees. Great blue herons, statuesque before us. And so many flocks of pelicans, frigatebirds, gulls! We even saw bright pink spoonbills – not one or two but a small flock, like tree-bound flamingos.
This is a protected area, and it shows. Flamingo numbers have risen to 40,000 from their 8,000 total a few decades ago. The estuary is a haven for all bird life, a paradise – and how wonderful to see it and celebrate it in a world where just about everything natural seems in decline.
Our driver slowed the boat at a place the guide called ‘bird island’. Here, pelicans and herons literally weighed down the trees.
Then we were off for our last stop – a natural spring. We walked throuh the mangroves to see it, and though the spring wasn’t much to see, it was an added experience to walk a short boardwalk through the mangroves, where silence engulfed us as if there was no life here at all.
Seafood, Swimming and a Sunset
Next we headed into the quaint little town of Celestun, to eat seafood at a beachfront restaurant. I’m vegetarian, but one of our writers declared this the best fish they had ever tasted. We leapt around in the waves, swimming in water that was unbelievably warm, and drank local beer as the sun began to set, pouring light onto the sea. The sky turned crimson, purple, pink, and we stood together at the water’s edge, taking photographs.
One of our writers put it best when she said, “I’ve asked a lot of my body and my mind this year. But today, I fed my soul.”
Julie
Centauri Arts Writing Retreats
