A few years back, our family spent six months living in a fishing village in Baja California Sur. So many experiences from that time still define us, but there’s one that I can’t stop thinking about.
The locals—mostly Mexican fishing people, farmers, or hospitality workers—lived a very different life to Britt, myself, and our two girls, who were three and one years old when we went.
And this letter is one of the reasons I haven’t spoken a lot about this experience: their lives were very different, and I didn’t want to be just another gringo talking about how people from other places were different to me.
But: The main way they differed was in their approach to busyness. They refused to hurry. On the pyramid where good, fast, and cheap sit on the three corners, but you can only pick two, "fast" was scribbled out.