In January, I partnered with a group of chiropractors to bring a unique experience to the Cabo San Lucas community. In February, I found myself working alongside this group again, except this time we were in Puerto Vallarta. Just a month ago I was speaking with the organizers about working with a new organization in Puerto Vallarta. I knew I wanted to bring a program there and create a similar collaboration. 

We had a week of programs planned, starting with a program at a church on Sunday, moving to park fiestas in the barrios on Monday, a community center program with a sponsored soccer team on Tuesday, and finally a rehabilitation center on Wednesday. To say our itinerary was jam-packed is an understatement.

It may have been overwhelming for some, but exciting for me, especially after a month-long break from programs. We were scheduled to work with the chiropractors again. I still felt my back and neck popping from my last adjustment! 

I headed out and called an Uber heading to Calle Madre Selva. 10 minutes past, then 20, then 30 and no Uber showed. I was stranded on the side of the road in rural Mexico. No wifi, no SIM card. I finally found a spot with free wifi and was able to connect with the team. “¡Estamos en Madre Selva en Calle Violeta!” they said. I saw the street was right around the corner, and headed over. When I arrived, I still didn’t see anyone. 

Well, they weren’t there either. I learned there are two Calle Madre Selvas and two Calle Violetas. Indeed I was lost. Somehow two team members in our large 14-seat van found me on the side of the road. Soccer balls in tow, sweating and sitting on the curb like a movie character, I was thrilled to see the big van barrel down the road.

With that out of the way, we headed back to the site where the kids were already waiting. The soccer balls came out and smiles soon followed. This program was small, less than 10 excited faces waiting as their parents received adjustments and realignments from the chiropractors. While intimate, it was fun. We jumped into our usual drills and the kids caught on quickly. Once we got to our favorite, mano o cabeza, the kids were in the groove. They laughed and smiled as their friends were eliminated from contention, while parents were looking on from the alignment area. 

We poked fun at an older boy, Bryan, who when commanded either mano o cabeza would let the ball fall and hit his“pecho” or chest everytime. Every time. Without fail.

“Mi amigo, esto no es el juego”… “My friend, this is not the game,” I joked to him. “It’s either head or hands, did I say chest?” I said with a wink. As I wrote their names on their new soccer balls, I signed his Bryan “el pecho” just for good measure. A young boy, maybe four years old, came up to me with a ball I had given him to bounce around while the older, bigger kids played. Here, he gestured, returning the ball that was the size of almost half his body. ¡No amigo, this is for you! A smile appeared, followed by words of thanks and gratitude from his parents. As always, every participant received a new ball and we set out to rest before another busy day on Monday.

¡Calle Violeta y Calle Madre Selva… te amo a pesar de que me engañaste! Violeta Street and Madre Selva Street… I love you even though you tricked me!