When I woke up that morning in Mazunte, I had no plan. By sunset, I was standing behind my own cake stall on the town’s main street while strangers asked whether I supplied bakeries, accepted wedding orders, or sold magic cake.
One of my biggest dreams is to own a van, travel through New Zealand or Australia, and sell coffee, tea, and homemade cake along the way. I'm slightly obsessed with all three. That day in Mexico, all it took to turn a small part of that dream into reality was a little boredom.
By then, I had already been traveling solo through Mexico for several months. I was far away from work, my usual routines, and all the things I would normally do when I got bored at home.
I had settled in Mazunte, which remains one of my favourite places I have ever visited. It is a small hippie town on Mexico's Pacific coast, known for yoga retreats, spiritual practices, and the people who arrive for a few days and somehow stay much longer.
I had never really been into yoga, but I loved being surrounded by people who were. Life there moved slowly. There weren't endless activities or attractions, so I began paying more attention to what was around me and finding creative ways to spend my time.
One day, I watched fellow travellers making things with their own hands and selling them on the street. I wanted to create something too.
The hostel where I was staying had an oven, and I immediately thought about my dream of having a van. I had always loved baking and had made countless cakes for friends, neighbours, and family. So why not bake cakes and sell them on the street?
I spent the entire day turning the idea into something real. I went shopping for ingredients, took over the hostel kitchen, and baked three different cakes.
That morning, I had no idea that by the evening I would have my own little cake stall in the centre of Mazunte.
During my time there, I had already become friendly with the people working in the shops around me. We greeted each other whenever I walked along the town's only main street, and slowly, those small daily encounters had started to make the place feel familiar.
That evening, I chose a spot, proudly set up my stall, and arranged my cakes on top. Beside me, a friend displayed the perfumes she had created herself.
Then I sold one slice. And another. And another.
Soon, people began asking questions I had never expected. Could I bake cakes for someone's bakery? Did I accept orders for weddings? Did I also sell magic cake?
The entire evening became one long conversation. I sold cake, met even more people, listened to their stories, and slowly stopped feeling like a traveller who was simply passing through.
At one point, someone came over to check whether I had permission to sell there. I didn't. I hadn't even known that I needed it.
Before I could properly react, the people from the surrounding shops stood up for me. They told the person that I belonged with them.
And that was exactly how I felt. At home. In this tiny village in Mexico, thousands of kilometres away from the place I usually called home.
After subtracting everything I had spent on ingredients, I made around €80 that night. But the money was only a small part of what I took away from the experience.
I had turned boredom into creativity and a distant dream into something I could touch, even if only for one evening. I earned money from cakes I had baked myself, but I gained something much bigger: confidence, connection, love, and the feeling of belonging somewhere completely unexpected.
For one night, I wasn't simply dreaming about the life I wanted to live. I was already living a small piece of it.
This wall is built from tarveler's stories - including yours.
