Coaching Businesses and Life

Hum, Acapulco, mio.

I have to be honest, we were kind of disappointed with the city itself.  Blame on decades, if not over a century of tourism but the city just didn't live up to the idea we had of it.  Maybe it's watching too many old 60s movies partying in sunny Acapulco, but the city left us no lasting impression.

However, we were roomed at the Grand Mayan, and let's just say that it was an experience.  A five star hotel is not always a five star one anywhere but the Grand Mayan mostly was.  It was amazing walking in and seeing the inner pond giving the illusion of stretching to the sea.  The style was obviously "Mayan" and you really felt there.  It wasn't a cultural Mexican experience but was mostly a tourist place.

                                                            Well, somebody had to do it!

There isn't much to say besides we just hung out and chilled.  Oh, yes, we went to see the famous cliff divers.  In itself it was impressive but it felt like a tourist rat trap.  What was supposed to be a certain amount all the sudden doubled and became a special show.  Nonetheless, it was impressive seeing these young kids diving like that.

One thing that struck me as being a potential problem for some touristy parts of Mexico is the sticking it up to the tourist.  It felt that since we were tourist, we automatically got the higher rate.  I am particularly sensitive to this because I saw my own cities, Nice, Cannes, Antibes, etc in the south of France make the same mistakes.  Now, tourist mostly agree they are beautiful but too expensive.  And if you live there, you'd say the same thing. 

It seems places like Acapulco, Puerto Vallarta and Cancun, the last one I have no desire to go, will probably have to re-invent themselves one of these days when tourists finally turn away from them.  In the meantime, I still keep wonderful memories of Guanajuato. It felt more "real".

The Grand Mayan accommodation were good, but I couldn't vouch for it.  We slept on couch pillows on the floor with covers meant for single beds that rolled into a bunch during the night.  It wasn't comfortable and our backs took a hit.  The other rooms looked cozy.  Go figure.

I had an amazing and life changing experience on the beach.  I woke up early one day and did a cleansing in the sea, prompted by my good friend in Mexico City.  It was amazing.  And this is the impression I will always keep of Mexico.  If you know what to look for, it has very powerful healing energies.

Sometimes, I wonder why we don't live there…  who knows.

As my much needed break back home in Nice, France draws to an end, I realize how happy I am to have be born in this city, be able to come back to it and that family is so very important.

People love or hate Nice but unless you were born here, or lived here a very long time, Nice is much more than a pretty city.  Nice, for me is warmth, it's a womb and the city that cuddles me.  It's old world, fetches its roots back to the early Greeks marine merchants.  Nice is blue, warm and is where I feel my roots deep within this planet.  It's my most stabilizing part of my life with Virginia.

It was great driving an hour and a half and go skiing in warm weather with great snow.  On top of the highest slopes, I could see the lower Alps stretching all the way to Italy.  Back down to the beach in the afternoon, there aren't many places where you can do this.

Finally, we had a mini-family reunion on Saturday night.  I forgot how much fun it was being in the middle of my turbulent Mediterranean family.  Everyone spoke at the same time, loudly, jokingly surrounded by good food.  I truly miss them.

As I contemplate my last day, I see this beautiful view over the Mediterranean sea, as blue and deep as it can be.  I miss this place.  Just wish airplanes trip could be faster and cheaper.

Sometimes I forget I was born here in Nice.  That's where I am at this moment, enjoying renewing my roots.

Nice has only been French for the past
190 years or so and was the unfortunate platform of countless wars from what
were then the Italian kingdoms and France, as well as invading Maures and other barbarians. Needless to say, people from Nice don't particularly
feel French and even less Italians. We are from Nice. The local dialect says it well; "M'en bati, siu Nissart!" which translates to; I don't care, I am from Nice.  While the king of France
fought his battles here against the Italian kingdoms, it meant decades of
occupation, famine and repression.  The people from Nice are tough, small, black
hair and have a wonderful leathery face.  Well, at least the older generation,
now a rarity.  The only kingdom that was halfway decent was the
Savoy one.  They loved Nice and were good for it.

Nice is a
particular place.  The environment is sun drenched most of the time, the soil isn't very rich, and
potatoes and tomatoes are some of the rare things that thrive.  As with most places that
are tough, the local folklore is rich and colors abound in traditional art.  The
catholic faith had a huge impact and churches are beautiful adorned, while the
people had close to nothing.  What captures my fascination is the deep azure blue
of the sea. It's saltier than the oceans and you can easily see 30 feet below
you when you swim. It's a blue that cuddles me, that warms me, that cups me in
The All's hand.

The light is harsh
and has drawn countless of artists, Picasso, Chagall, Matisse, and more. 
Watching the arid hills, you can see the contrast trees shed on the dried soil.

All in all, it's
recharging my batteries.

It's interesting learning about people and seeing how some live with much less money than we do here in the US.  Some of them look happy and judging by the warmth and family feel the exude, they look very happy. 

They celebrate, they dance, they play music, they enjoy life, even if it is hard and they work hard, very hard.  We saw people hauling incredible weights on their backs up the steep hills of the city.  These folks still have what it takes.  They have the hunger. 

They also have an intrinsic feel for family, love children, unite, bond and are filled with an intelligent form of patriotism, that of being together, not necessarily the one representing the might of their nation.  They are humbled, we are not, or haven't been in a while… or yet.  To think we have everything, from big houses to big cars, super sweetened and enriched food, we try to look tough a la Hollywood images of sex and violence but we can't even drink our coffees without 5 sugars packs.  For all the material wealth we have, we should be happy, and some are.  If you are agile enough to not look at the doom and fear mongers in the news that can fill people with attitudes, you are doing well.   We have plenty of ideas on how the rest of the world should work.  These people in Guanajuato were true people, had real smiles, and though they had no way near the accumulated wasted wealth we have here, they know how to have fun.

It was an amazing experience and a real eye opener. I saw what I have gained from my travels and what I almost lost.  I am happy to be alive and aware.

What else can I say about beautiful Guanajuato?

The architecture is very pleasing in a European way.  It's a mixture of old European big homes and smaller ones dressed with remarkable colors.  Massive wooden doors ornate these sumptuous homes in the city, decorated with fresco balconies.  If it wasn't for the color scheme, I would feel as if I was in France somewhere. 

Sometimes I wonder what would it be coaching here in this environment.  I'm sure coaching could bring a lot to these people, especially the ones who are hard working and motivated.  I wonder what their challenges are, besides the obvious things.  What are their limitations?  As I see some of these people crossing themselves 4 times walking in front of churches, I can't help but think what catholic upbringing can do to people.  I was born and raised in a part of France that is very much old fashion catholic… or maybe was.  Even though I have no religion but clearly aim to get the the source of life in as a direct way as possible, I wonder if these people embrace their original religion and philosophy one day?  They can be proud of it and the world could only benefit from these ancient ways… especially in our troubled times.  Sometimes I see local natives, the ones with the dark skinned faces and their eyes speak volumes.  They look as if they have accepted this invading religious visitor but something in their eyes say that the tradition is still there… hidden, but there.  I want to know them better.  I want to learn from them what we have forgotten.  Surely the middle road is always best, embracing modern times while keeping ancient wisdom.  But I digress…

We recently took a surprised trip to Guanajuato, Mexico.  We never thought we would love it that much.  It has surprised us beyond our hopes.

What can I say about our trip to Guanajuato…  Lovely, pretty, exotic, artisanal, unique, UNESCOesque?  All of these adjectives?  It's a little of everything and more.  To people like Virginia and I who have lived abroad, the expat feeling is exquisite.  We miss it.  We miss that feeling being alone in another culture, lost amongst other speaking tongue people, lost in a sea of fellow human beings looking different, being different, yet all looking for that something, whatever it is.  I think we finally realize what we look for is that unending diversity we find abroad amongst expats.  It's that mix and melange of different cultures coming together as a hodgepodge of earthlings, united in diverse backgrounds, motivated with a sense of togetherness that transcends cultural differences.

We stayed at these people's extra home hooked to their primary residence, hung on a hill.  Delightful homes, all painted brightly in a sea of adobe builds on top of each other, next to whatever spot could secure a home.  Simply delightful, with a taste of Spanish Mediterranean.  I felt at home.  Red floor tiles, wooden beams, decorative tiles in the kitchen and bathroom, wooden chairs and table, some brightly decorated, others simple wood finish.  All giving you a feel or rusticity, tranquilness and a warm feeling of being home.  Ah, we could make this our home.

My 25th year high school reunion!

Then there was my 25th year Mamaroneck High School reunion. Ah, the joy of seeing the likes of the Nancys of my childhood and admitting to Lauren I had a big crush on her.  It was fun to see everyone doing well and how my year, 1965 is that no one seems to have a real, normal job. I don't feel alone anymore. Everyone has had an interesting life, lived abroad and no one got caught up in the 9 to 5 rat race.   That was funny to see. 
Another great surprise is how good the girls from my year look.  There is something about them. 

All in all, NY is a ruthless teacher and won't let go until you learn whatever it is you need to learn.  The City will reflect back what you need to learn and achieve and it will spare no energy.   I did do, however everything I needed to, work in the Village on the laptop and caught up with my posts… well, I tried, walked around Norita, SOHO, my favorite part of town, the East Village and ate at Yakitori Taisho.  I went to the Park and took pictures and even met an old friend and his new dog.   I went to the Roosevelt center and the Apple store on Park avenue. I went to the Tibet House US and ate at a Tibetan restaurants with my dear good friends.  How I miss them! 

Mostly, I did what I feel I had to do deep down inside.   I got two of my good friends to meet and hopefully, hit it off.  I connected back with my old High School best friend and we picked up where we left off, plus with a stack of invaluable life lessons.  We followed, more or less the same path and enjoy rich spiritual and philosophical talks.  I went out late with friends,coming home at 5 am, had a blast which reminded me what it was like living and partying in NY.   I went to my High School's 25th year reunion and caught up with some unfinished feelings, and let them go.  I did what I was supposed to do and that feeling is very fulfilling.
 
What was also strange about my trip in New York was the recurring symbols I saw everywhere of my favorite sign, the circle within a triangle.  And to make the trip an even more important event, answering that all illusive question, do I want to live in NY again? My train back to the airport was headed for Long Beach, NY. It showed in big red letters, LONG BEACH! There you go. Sometimes things just need to happen a certain way…