With just under a week of Mexico living under my belt I’ve been working on perfecting my morning routine. It takes a bit to move with the flow of a new space, but I’m getting there. Enjoying all Mexico has to offer.

Writing, working,  and food choices they’re all closely tied to how I spend the first few hours of my day. I have it all mapped out, if you’re interested in the details let me know, I’ll write a bit more about it.

Ideally, I like to spend an hour or two in the morning with myself. During that time I usually meditate, write, and spend quiet time. Even if I have to get up at 5 am to make this happen, I find it’s well worth the effort, leaving me calm + productive throughout the day.

This of course is ideal, but doesn’t always happen.

The other component of my morning is working up a sweat. I am a morning worker-outer. Period. There is no way in hell that I am going to work out in the afternoon. And while we’re at it, just forget about the evening. I will become Captain invent-an-excuse in the flash of an eye with all the reasons in the world about why I simply cannot workout.

Plus, when I start my day with a workout, I feel ridiculously accomplished.

I was super happy to discover for the low-low price of 20 pesos or $1.14, I can walk down the street before the sun rises and get my morning workout in. The building used to be the location of a tropical fruit canning factory and now appears bombed out and abandoned from the outside.

But looks, they are deceiving. As I approached through the pre-dawn darkness I saw lights and heard “It’s Britney Bitch!” screaming at me through the open windows, beckoning me in. The building is huge, resembles an old school boxing gym and is filled with rusted out, but surprisingly useable machines. But I wasn’t there for the DIY sweat fest. I was there for Carlos.

Rumor has it that Carlos sometimes goes on a couple day bender with late nights and doesn’t show up to kick asses. But he’s been on point this whole week; kicking this ass. There’s a lot of old school cardio moves, circuits with weights, and Carlos in the middle bossing us into sticky messes. Friends, there’s nothing like a sweaty, cardio workout all in Spanish before the sun comes up to get your ass motivated. Win.

Plus I’m getting a language lesson, reigniting all the high school years of Spanish grammar with Senora. Double win.

I don’t spend time missing what I don’t have or wishing I were somewhere else. A total waste of energy. Instead, I embrace and appreciate the differences between them.

I love morning workouts with Carlos in Mexico. I love my open air kitchen, sunsets on the beach, and tacos with a fresh salsa bar right across the street. It’s the best.

When I arrive in Italy I will be pleased to enjoy their best as well. Overjoyed to be right across the street from the best damn cappuccino and croissant I ever laid my lips upon. Thrilled to spend lazy Sunday lunches with friends on the Adriatic, people watching like it’s a sport.

I work everywhere I go, but I also enjoy the shit out of my surroundings. This isn’t vacation. This is life.