# 43 Searching for Stories in Paradise
On Holbox Island, Mexico, and the influence of social media on our lives
The long, broad beach of white coral sand invites us to walk in silence. The low sun heats our backs as the palm leaves wave. We swim in the shallow turquoise water that’s perhaps a bit too warm: We shiver briefly when we crawl out because the tropical breeze feels cool by comparison.
There are no jellyfish, no jet skis, and almost no horse flies. The beach clubs play music at a non-nuisance level. We’re not the only tourists here, but with so much space to share one must be really determined to be in someone else’s way.
I think about this newsletter and what I will write.
“It’s beautiful here” is a statement, not a story.
My plan was to write something in the style of Anne Morrow Lindbergh whose Gift from the Sea (1955) is still a gift to millions of women in the world. I would investigate how islands disconnect us from habits and inspire reflection, how they can make us live more purely in the present. But my mind is mostly elsewhere this week.
I’m finishing a novel set in Indonesia (almost done!), editing a friend’s novel, getting interviewed for my upcoming release, making last minute travel arrangements for Peru, signing a book deal, and figuring out why our airport hotel in Lima wants us to take a shuttle bus when on the map the distance is clearly walkable (For fellow travelers: There are 2 Wyndham Costa del Sol hotels in Lima: 1 at the new terminal—walkable—and 1 at the old terminal—shuttleable).
In short: I’m not doing island life well. I’m not in synch with the disconnection narrative I preconceived and going there in my writing now would be a lie.
“The most exhausting thing in life, I have discovered, is being insincere,” writes Anne Morrow Lindbergh in Gift from the Sea.
So what else can I write? I’m searching for something that captures my attention and can bring you along.
For example: Why are there so many annoying ATVs on this so-called car-free island? How do the locals feel about this? But writing this story would require significant research for which I don’t have time. The sargassum blooms intrigue me, too, and I’d love to learn more about how scientists are trying to turn this problem of climate-change overgrowth into a future solution by turning seaweed into biofuel. But this, too, needs more time than I have available this week.
In the following days, my search for a story becomes a mean refrain that plays in the back of my head.
What will be your angle? Look again! Do you have nothing to say?
Frustrated, I go out one morning before breakfast, something I enjoy doing in tropical climates, getting a walk in before the heat of the day. But this time I’m not going out for myself: I go out for this newsletter. For you. And I’m not enjoying myself.
I’m looking and looking, taking photographs, and become painfully aware that I’m not following my curiosity. It’s one thing to chase an interesting lead and become a self-assigned reporter. Another to feel anxiety because I’m failing to turn my current experiences into something of value to others.
You’re an author, I remind myself. Not a content creator or influencer. But where lies the difference? I cannot deny that I write content that influences people. And that my being on social media influences my life. I feel responsible for delivering a quality story each week and some of my decisions reflect that. But where should I draw the line? Has my writing become a performance? Is my life?
Here I am, in near paradise, and I’m spoiling my time with worries about not seeing the narrative arc. As though my stay on Holbox will be meaningless if I cannot find some wisdom to share.
Is that my story?
“We tell ourselves stories in order to live,” writes Joan Didion in The White Album.
One day, Daniel and I walk as far east as we can go on the beach and notice some people in the distance who seem to be walking on water. What’s going on?
Different shades of the ocean reveal a sandbank running parallel to the shore. The majority of it lies submerged under knee-deep water, yet farther the sandbank turns into an island.
We set off to explore, wading to the sandbank and then walking its length. Fish and crabs dart away from our feet. What are the people on the island looking at?
Pink smudges on the horizon change into a flamboyance of flamingos. My heart sings. The flamingos I searched for in vain on the Galápagos are here in the shade of the mangroves, their stick-legs stepping in murky pools.
We stand in awe with the other people. Nobody gets too close or does anything to scare them away—an unwritten rule. Other seabirds dot the shoreline, cranes and ones whose names I don’t possess. Squadrons of pelicans fly low over the water, rising only enough to not touch our heads as they pass.
My turbulent mind calms. I feel tiny in this vast universe yet intimately connected.
By the time we leave, the tide has come up, and we must swim back to shore. The beach gifts me several shells and a small flamingo feather.
Tired and fulfilled, we watch the sun merge with the ocean in a spectacle of orange, then turn to see the full moon rise over the palms.
Can I write about this, our plotless adventure?
“These are legendary days,” Daniel says, unaware of my search for meaning. “Who gets days like these?”
I look at him with my full attention and see all I need at this time.
I’m Claire Polders, a writer of fiction and nonfiction. Read about my books and more on my website www.clairepolders.com.
If you buy a book through a link in this newsletter, you support me and indie bookstores at no extra cost to you. You can browse all the books I recommend here.
Practical Information on Holbox Island
The island’s infrastructure and sewage system is suffering from Holbox’s rising popularity in the high season (Dec-Apr). So consider coming in the low season (May-Jul or Nov) like we did.
Advantages: Contributing to a more sustainable tourist industry for the locals, cheaper prices, less crowded beaches, no lines at restaurants or reservations needed.
Downsides: There is some sargassum floating in the water (yet nothing like it is near Cancun or Tulum) and you may experience a few days with an hour of afternoon rain. From August to October it’s hurricane season, so you may not want to come during that time.Need a private driver in the Yucatán? Daniel and I usually rely on public transportation, but taking the route we wanted to take by bus would have been highly unpleasant. So we relatively splurged on hiring Óscar Zermaño, a kind, communicative, professional, and flexible driver. He drove us from Mérida via a beautiful cenote to the port in Chiquilá where we took the ferry to Holbox. His prices are market rate and he speaks English very well. Other people recommend him, too. Find him on WhatsApp at +52 999 575 3307 or Facebook.
The ferries to and from Holbox are run by 2 different companies and leave every 30 minutes. No need to make reservations in advance. Just show up at the port and purchase a ticket from the company whose boat is next to leave.
For other tours (groups and private, including swimming with whale sharks) I recommend My Holbox Tours.
Don’t forget eating tacos at Taqueria Mateo (not for vegetarians) and Temoc Tacos & Mezcal.
There are many mini markets for groceries, yet we liked Super Monkeys the best because they sold unprocessed nuts by the kilo.
Get your fruit and veggies from Frutería Culiacán. She has the freshest produce.
Some random yet perhaps useful observations: Frequent albeit short power cuts are common; there’s a nice mix of Mexican, European, and North American tourists of all ages; construction noise can be an issue—the island is still in development; weekends are far livelier than weekdays.
Author News
I signed by first audiobook deal!
I’ll let you know when the audiobook of Woman of the Hour will be available. At the moment you can preorder the print and ebook version.
Related Essays
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Time to Say Goodbye
When this letter goes out into the world, Daniel and I will be in Peru getting used to the high altitude of Huaraz which lies at 3,052 meters (10,013 ft) above sea level. I have no idea what I will publish next week, but I promise it will be something true.
All my best,
Claire
P.S. Have you noticed how your presence on social media (including Substack) has changed how you live? Does it bother you? Do you actively fight it? If so, how?
I go through this struggle as well. In the beginning of our nomadic life, I wanted to report about every day, every new and exciting revelation. But as time wore on, I started to lose interest. It was as if I was simply writing about my everyday life, which to others was still exciting, but to me became mundane. I still go in and out of inspiration but try not to put too much pressure on myself and write what interests me. I've been very unmotivated as of late, since we are back in Canada for a bit, but still trying to keep people updated. It's a constant struggle.
You two are indeed living the legen-(wait for it)-dary days!
For a while, I had a love-hate relationship with social media--I didn’t want to feel too attached or present on it, especially since I had to use it so much for work. It’s wonderful to feel connected with the community, but sometimes it feels like we’re playing a game where the rules can change anytime, and we’re just trying to keep up. I’m more relaxed about it now, not too attached, but I’ve come to learn that at the end of the day, what we’re all looking for is true connection. Sincerity.
And congrats on the book deal, Claire--that’s wonderful, woohoo! By the way, I just downloaded Gift from the Sea on my Kindle and looked up Anne Morrow Lindbergh via the link you shared. Such an interesting detail: she was the wife of Charles Lindbergh, who many people say inspired the name of my all-time favorite dance--the Lindy Hop. Long story short, after Lindbergh’s historic flight across the Atlantic, the phrase “Lindy Hops the Atlantic” was used in headlines, and some believe that’s how the dance got its name. The truth is still debated, but that’s how I first recognized his name! Anyway, I'm gonna read the book this weekend while sipping my matcha. Thanks for the recommendation, and I’m already looking forward to your next legendary write in Peru. I know it's gonna be true and authentic. Like always.