Western Zihuatanejo
The Fisherman’s Corner
Once my cousins left, I felt the stillness return —
the quiet rhythm that always follows good company.
It was time to explore the part of Zihuatanejo I hadn’t yet seen —
the western tip, where the fishermen live by the tide.
Every dawn, they push their boats into the water,
chasing the horizon before most of the town wakes.
By midmorning, they return — sun on their backs,
nets heavy with the day’s catch.
They sell what they can, share what’s left,
and in doing so, keep the heartbeat of this place alive.
Watching them, I felt something shift.
This simple rhythm — give, take, rest, repeat —
is the pulse of life itself.
For me, it was time to say goodbye.
The last hotel stay before heading out.
Where next? I asked myself.
I don’t know yet.
But I hear Tulum calling.
Why Tulum?
I guess I’ll find out.
For me, this was the closing chapter.
The last hotel stay before heading out.
And this time, I wanted to remember it all —
because these places I stay are more than stops along the way.
They are mirrors. They do what I do.
They hold the energy of those who pass through,
and when I leave, I leave my mark behind too.
I also take a piece of them with me.
To some, it’s just another hotel.
To me, it’s a lifetime of memories —
moments that slow my gaze and open my heart.
I notice the people who make my day better,
the ones who greet me with kindness,
who cook, clean, serve, smile.
I see them — and I hope they see me too.
I try to leave something invisible behind —
gratitude. Respect. A mark they can feel even after I’m gone.
Because I remember the little boy who could never have imagined this life,
and I honor him every time I live it fully.
In honor of that boy — and the man I’ve become —
I leave my mark to carry on.
Thank you, Zihuatanejo. 🌊