The Enlightenened Motoconcho

Recently I was in the Caribbean, exploring the way I often do: on foot, and sometimes by “bola” — the local term for getting scooped up on the back of someone’s motorbike. It’s common there, generous, playful. And I like little thrills, as you’ll come to learn.

One evening, I’d gone far to pick up desserts from a specialty bakery for a friend’s gathering. I needed to get back, so I flagged down the closest motoconcho — a moto taxi driver in a vest. “How much is it from here to [where I was going]?” I asked, brushing a little dust off my legs.

“Whatever you want,” he said. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to pay.”

I smirked, but pressed him. “No, really — how much?”
Still smiling, still calm: “The price is what you pay.”

Now I got a little fiery. “So if I were ugly, you’d charge me?”
“There are no ugly people,” he said, with the kind of innocence that didn’t feel like a line. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-three.

I got on the bike. We talked the whole way. I kept testing him:
“Hypothetically, what does this kind of ride usually cost?”
But he never wavered.

“Whatever the client pays is what it costs. Sometimes it’s more, sometimes it’s less. Most people are generous. They make up for the ones who can give less.”

That cracked something open in me.

So here I am — applying what I learned, in my own way.

If the project I’m building — this dance, this space between us — only received a donation for one hour of our time, even if we spend two or three, I’d be satisfied. Because my life is already full. Because I believe in generosity. Because I’m more inspired to create something memorable when there’s trust involved, not just transaction.

I know this may feel less fun for you. Less predictable.
But you could also look at it this way:

If someone didn’t want to be disappointed (in this case, me), they shouldn’t play with fire — or make bold proposals such as this. Don’t you think?

What is life without a little uncertainty?
A little play? A little game of seduction?

I wouldn’t ask you to dance if I didn’t think you’d enjoy the dance.

A word of caution for those tempted to take advantage of a structure like this — to take without offering, or treat generosity as a loophole — just know: that’s not the kind of dance we do. This isn’t about gaining the upper hand, but about co-creating something meaningful. And the moment it stops feeling good, you’ll find the music stops.
Quickly.

But if at any point, beloved stranger, this becomes too much — too heavy, too ambiguous, too anything — say the word. We can go a more traditional route.

Until then, I trust you.
Let’s see what happens.

Yours,
Maria W.