“The tribe has spoken,” was music to my ears. I happily walked off the “Survivor” set thinking, “Ooof, it’s over.”
Little did I know that my “Survivor” experience would follow me forever.
Growing up in Miami, I spent my summers snorkeling in the mangroves, hunting lobsters, and collecting fiddler crabs.
When I was 36, I was asked to be on “Survivor.” I didn’t apply. In the early aughts, I posted a video of me singing a song I’d written in the spirit of electroclash, which caught the eye of CBS’s head of casting. That’s how I ended up on “Survivor” Season 14 in 2007.
When you play “Survivor,” you’re not just competing with other humans; you’re competing with nature.
You learn to understand how tides work, the best time to look for food, and the best time to go for a swim. You learn to listen to your mind and body and how it reacts to the wildness around you.
I loved that aspect of being on “Survivor” — simply existing in the wild. So, many years later, when I decided to move to Mexico, I chose the most “Survivor”-like environment I could find: Isla Holbox.
It’s not a place for everyone, but my eight-pound dog, Peggy Lee, and I love the island.
The ‘black hole’ of Mexico
Courtesy of Lisi Linares
Holbox means “black hole” in Yucatec Maya, a language that many of the locals still speak.
Isla Holbox is roughly two hours from the Cancún International Airport. After driving through el mangle (the mangrove forest), stopping for a beer and snack at the town of Kantunilkín, I reached the tip of the Yucatán Peninsula. From there, Holbox was just a ferry ride away.
When it rains, the water level in the lagoons rises, and it’s not rare to see a crocodile, or a’ayin in Mayan, walking around.
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There are no cars on the island, and the drainage system is almost nonexistent, so locals piece together hoses and PVC pipes that lead to the beach and hope for the best.
Sometimes, puddles linger for so long that the mosquito situation gets really bad. The most populated areas are later sprayed with insecticide.
Peggy has her street dog friends, and most people know her as La Peggy.
During our walks, people stop me to ask about La Peggy — rarely about how I’m doing — and I’m OK with that. On Saturdays, we go to a butcher. Refrigeration isn’t needed because the chicken or pig, for example, was slaughtered just hours ago.
It’s a completely different lifestyle from the US, but my time on “Survivor” has taught me to live in harmony with nature, not to try to conquer it.
Most importantly, nothing is permanent. Today, there is a hurricane; tomorrow, there will be sunny skies.
‘Survivor’ even played a role in what I do for a living
Courtesy of Lisi Linares
When I did post-game press for CBS back in 2007, I became interested in the publicity machine: how your story is told, how you exit the game, how you are presented to the press, and press junkets.
Currently, I’m a media strategist for VR projects and have started a virtual reality scene on the island where we introduce children to the technology and blow their minds.
When I’m not working with a client, my small team and I go around the island shooting with a 360-degree camera. We’ve created amazing videos featuring the enormously spectacular whale shark and captivating 3D mini movies of the bioluminescence found on the far west side of the island, Punta Cocos.
Although it’s been nearly 20 years since I did “Survivor,” the experience has never left me, and every day it provides me with the knowledge and skill needed to enjoy living in a place like Isla Holbox.