My first Mexican Thanksgiving

I am so thankful. My first Thanksgiving away from home was absolutely incredible, thanks to the love and good company of people both far and near. Here is what I am thankful for:

 Hiking through the butterfly sanctuary (photo courtesy of Alicia)

Language: It never ceases to amaze me that here in Mexico City I have met and worked with so many people from different countries who I would have never crossed paths with nor even been able to talk to if we both had not learned a second language. Every day at work I collaborate with a French co-worker who speaks almost no English and with whom I would never have been able to communicate if we had both not learned a second language. Sometimes it feels as if the world is converging here in Mexico City, where I have met so many international visitors. When I went on a hike a few weekends ago to see the monarch butterfly migration in Michoacán, our guide abandoned us in the middle of the mountain, telling us to wait while he checked to make sure we were going the right way. We were four people, each from a different country, and we were essentially alone in a forest on the side of a hill, completely out of breath. Yet, since we all spoke Spanish, we joked around and laughed uncontrollably until the guide came back for us. Laughter is the ultimate unifier.

Butterfly sanctuary and Valle de Bravo

Nature: I have come to appreciate even the slightest remnants of nature while living in this bustling, polluted, concrete-laden city. Every crack in the pavement is full of green shoots. There is an entire flock of ducks and other water birds living in the lake in Parque México. And even though it’s November, sunlight still dances on the fronds of palms and the branches of birch trees in Parque España just a block from my house. But even noticing the little pieces of nature scattered amidst daily city life had not prepared me for the overwhelming joy and awe I felt when I went to Valle de Bravo. Trees and moss made a mirage of green across entire mountainsides. Billowing clouds, illuminated from behind by heavenly rays of sun, rested like footprints on a canvass of clear blue sky. Even when we were driving back to the city, my last glimpse of the lake in the distance, just a split second snapshot through the van window, left me feeling whole and at peace. I have been reminded recently how powerful nature can be and I am incredibly thankful for its endless gifts of healing and peace despite how we poorly we continue to treat it.

My family took me out to Thanksgiving dinner and my friends came to celebrate Friends-giving (photo courtesy of Alicia)

People: People are just amazing. My co-workers are patient and kind, giving advice about living in Mexico, while patiently helping me improve my Spanish. The entrepreneurs I work with are inspiring, hopeful, determined, and dedicated.  My Mexican family has shown me unconditional love and support that has helped me greatly in my adjustment to Mexico. One of my aunts, my uncle, and cousins took me out to Thanksgiving dinner last Thursday night and it was amazing! My family at home Skyped me in to Thanksgiving dinner and as I “sat” with them at the table, my computer screen showing me the familiar table surrounded by family, I could feel the love radiating out of the screen, dissolving the geographical distance between us and embracing me with open arms. I miss my friends from home on a daily basis. Yet their capacity for compassion and love even from miles away never ceases to amaze me. I can feel their support like a gentle breeze behind me, always encouraging me forward. The new friends I have met here have brought so much joy into my life. I have shared deep discussions as well as fits of hysterical laughter with these incredible people, locals and foreigners alike. It is mind-blowing to remember that I had no idea these people even existed just a few months earlier. My apartment was filled with over 20 people for Thanksgiving dinner, and it was one of the happiest moments I have had here.

The Thanksgiving dinner table

Good food: My first Thanksgiving away from home included more people and more types of food than I think I have ever had at a Thanksgiving dinner. We had people from 6 different countries and so. much. food. I have so many leftovers that I don’t think I’ll have to go food shopping for weeks!

Music: At some point during the dinner, a group of us were crowded around my roommate and her acoustic guitar, belting out the lyrics of pop, rock, and alternative songs alike. The music brought us all together and it was one of the moments where I have felt most at home here.

 

Health: While I have been dealing with stomach and back issues for what at times has felt like an eternity, I am grateful for my body and mind that have carried me up mountains, walked countless city blocks, done hours of yoga, swam laps in the pool, ate delicious Mexican food, held captivating conversations in two languages, translated documents, and continues to think critically about the big picture of my life and how it affects those around me.

Change: This Thanksgiving there were ominous clouds hovering over the festivities: protests continued for 43 students missing in Ayotzinapa, Mexico and the ruling of Michael Brown’s court case in Ferguson, Missouri sparked protests across the US. These events have jolted the world awake to the social problems we face today across the globe. At first this news depressed me; I thought we had made more progress than this. Yet as young people all over the world continue to demand change, I am hopeful that we will make a positive difference in this world in our future. And I am thankful to be a part of this generation of changemakers.

On the lake in Valle de Bravo

Opportunity: Every day I marvel at the fact that I was blessed with the opportunity to take this adventure. I learn something new every day, seeing beautiful sights and meeting extraordinary people along the way. I am even more excited for the rest of my fellowship here at Endeavor Mexico than I was when I started, eager to find out what more I have yet to learn and where it will lead me.

Day of the Dead: A Celebration of Life

Our tour group outside the cemetery of Tzintzuntzan

I have been living in Mexico for about 4 months now and I am still amazed by how much I have learned and have yet to learn. Mexico has continually challenged and surprised me. Día de los Muertos was no exception.

Ever since I first arrived here I have noticed that Mexicans have a unique relationship with death compared to people in the United States. I have many relatives here and have attended a few family funerals since my arrival. While there was still much sadness at these funerals, I noticed that there was also much less of something that I was used to feeling at funerals in the US: fear. While we try to find comfort in religion and others when someone dies, there is still this hesitance to speak of death and an attempt to try and ignore it in US cultures. Mexican culture does the exact opposite and as a result, Mexicans are much more connected with and open to communicating with the spiritual world. On multiple occasions, conversations have led to talk of spiritual legends and many, many personal encounters with the spirits of deceased relatives. The culmination of this embracing of the spiritual world is the Day of the Dead. I had the opportunity to travel to several cities in the state of Michoacán, well-known for their traditional celebrations of the Day of the Dead: Patxcuaro, Janitzio, Morelia, Santa Clare de Cobre, and the pre-hispanic ruins of Tzintzuntzan. I was completely awestruck by what I saw. It was not a day of solemn remembrance, but rather a full-blown celebration of life. I walked through cemeteries glittering in bright orange with thousands of marigolds covering the ground, the headstones, and the entrances. I saw families sitting around the gravesites of relatives, laughing, chatting, singing, dancing, as comfortable as if they were in their own backyards. I saw people selling papas and pan de muerto (a traditional pastry with orange and anise flavor) among the gravestones, as if it were a stadium at a sporting event. I saw the devotion and dedication that went into making the intricately decorated ofrendas (offerings) at each headstone, with flowers, candles, fruits, breads, pastries, and cherished worldly possessions of the deceased. I was stuck by the fact that if I had traveled to a graveyard on a holiday in the United States, it would be a much more somber, and even slightly unsettling, experience. I am incredibly impressed by Mexico´s approach to remembering the dead and I hope to channel that same sense of joy, peace, and celebration into my own relationship with death.

Copper museum in Santa Clara de Cobre

 The view of Lake Patzcuaro from the ruins of Tzintzuntzan

Me in the pre-hispanic ruins of Tzintzuntzan

Ponche: apples + guanabana + peaches + cane sugar = best hot drink ever

 

Graveyard decorated for Day of the Dead

 View on the boat ride to the island of Janitzio at sunset

"A joyous hurricane of nonsense"

I have been searching for a common unifying theme in my life right now and was having an impossible time…until my friend who has been like a sister to me since elementary school and who is always my go-to wordsmith unintentionally handed me the perfect phrase in a Facebook chat:

“Life is a joyous hurricane of nonsense.”

Thanks Em, that´s it exactly.

So I will do my best to describe this joyous nonsensical hurricane that I am living right now, but if these snapshots don´t do it justice, then at least you already have the perfect sentence to summarize my life right now.

"Hola, me llamo Busito!"

Guadalajara

Leaving Mexico City was something I was looking forward to for a while, but I didn´t quite realize just how necessary it was until I was on the bus. My bus left at 5am on Saturday so naturally I slept for the first few hours of the bus ride. Suddenly I was awaked by the glow of the sun on my face, the gentle rocking of the bus, and a view of endless forested hills all around me. I cannot properly describe how rejuvenating and perfect that moment felt. Without realizing it, I had been slowly suffocating, surrounded by concrete and other man-made structures for so long. I felt like I could breathe deeply for the first time in months. I must have looked like a child: my nose pressed again the window, smiling like a maniac. This was probably the only time in my life where I felt the urge to jump out of a moving vehicle and just frolic in the tall grass or sit under a tree on a hill. But what was more amazing to me was not how profoundly I had missed natural habitats, but how just a glimpse of them through a bus window was enough to leave me feeling refreshed and inspired. That´s just the power of nature.

My cousins and me in Tlaquepaque, Guadalajara

Tlaquepaque

Pronounced “tlack-eh-pack-ay” Don´t worry, I had to take a picture of a sign with the name on it and memorize the spelling in order to pronounce it correctly. This neighborhood of Guadalajara is known for its unique art, delicious restaurants, and one-of-a-kind artisanal products. My aunt, uncle and cousins took me there on Saturday afternoon and it was incredible. The glassware and hand-painted crafts were so unique and beautiful it was all I could do to not spend all of the money I had brought with me. We also got to see the Danza de los Voladores (Dance of the Flyers) performed in the town center by a group of indigenous performers that was quite the spectacle. It was wonderful to be welcomed into the home of my aunt and uncle in Guadalajara and I had a blast spending time with my younger cousins, playing card games and sharing delicious food. That night when I went to bed, I cherished the complete and peaceful silence that embraced me as I closed my eyes. No car horns. No tamale vendor or “used mattress-buying” cart announcements. No neighbors´ television programs or opera singing drifting through my window (yes, my neighbor is a legitimate opera singer, or at least thinks he is and practices every other afternoon, even giving concerts in the middle of the night to a round a soft applause on some nights). No stray cat mewing from the staircase. Just silence. Blissful, beautiful silence.

Endeavor National Selection Panel

While visiting family and taking a break from big city life were amazing, the main reason I was in Guadalajara was for work. In a whirlwind of preparation and hours of interviews and deliberations, the national selection panel came and went. While neither of the entrepreneurs with whom I had worked were selected in the end, it was still an inspiring and eye-opening experience. The three other companies that did pass the panel truly showcased their innovation and preparedness to move onto the international panel and we are all routing for them. After the national panel came to an end, the Endeavor staff and panelists shared a casual lunch at a local burger joint. Friendly conversation flowed between business people and entrepreneurs from all walks of life. These panelists voluntarily gave up their weekend to travel to Guadalajara and evaluate the newest Endeavor candidates, and it is their commitment and dedication that truly makes the Endeavor network unique and valuable.

Rainbow before the rain

Sunset before the rain

The Hurricane

Well, it wasn´t a hurricane exactly, but it was certainly one hell of a thunderstorm. The return trip from Guadalajara was spent with my co-workers in a small van that was not designed to carry passengers based on its poor suspension and lack of functional seatbelts. But once again I felt completely relaxed and at home for two reasons: 1. I was once again surrounded by beautiful natural scenery and 2. I have traveled in a cramped sketchy van many, many times on various Villanova events and service break trips that being sandwiched between people and bounced up and down in a van for 7 hours was perhaps the most familiar thing I have done since arriving in Mexico. As we approached Mexico City, we could see the storm ahead. Just before the pounding rain hit the windshield and the van started hydroplaning on turns, we got a glimpse of this beautiful rainbow. A fragment of beauty before the chaos.

Social life

So guess what? After three months of living in Mexico – I have friends! Finally, I have broken my curse of only meeting guys older than me who are about to leave the city! It started very subtly and slowly, like all friendships do. A common interest. Seeing them a few times in a row at different meetup.com group events. And then… it´s been two hours already and we´re still laughing and sharing life stories over dinner or coffee. I´ve finally had those moments where I just clicked with another person and shared my real self. Not the international traveler who has a prestigious fellowship and speaks Spanish and is doing just fine living on her own, thanks. But the idealistic, endlessly curious, nerdy, honest, self-critical, elaborate story-telling, loud-laughing, sometimes awkward, recent college graduate who is still just trying to figure it all out. When you know that the other person is willing to listen to that side of you and share their real selves with you as well, you know that this is someone worth getting to know more. So even though my co-workers still joke around affectionately calling me “abuela” because I don´t like partying much, I enjoy baking, I get excited about doing laundry, and I am a member of a monthly book club, I am finally finding my own group of friends from all different backgrounds and countries to share this amazing city with.

The most peaceful yoga room ever

Rain

While the rainy season should be ending soon, it is not (insert angry climate change comment here). But while the rain is unyielding, at least it is predictable. It comes nearly every night around 6pm or 7pm. And this is great if you are prepared. Which I thought I was. I had gone to yoga all decked out in my raincoat. No purse, just waterproof pockets and workout clothes that would dry easily. So I went to yoga and had an incredible class (as always). I left feeling refreshed and alive and strong. And then I stepped out onto the street and, as if on cue, lightning cracked and thunder shook the sidewalk. Then the raindrops started careening earthward, falling as if meeting the ground was of the utmost necessity. I still had a 20 minute walk ahead of me. No big deal, I thought. I have a raincoat, I thought. Hah. The raindrops also had an insatiable desire to find every single opening in my raincoat. Before I had walked two blocks I was soaked from head to toe. And then, I just stopped caring. I was completely alone on a wide pedestrian sidewalk in the island of the street (common walkways in La Roma and La Condesa neighborhoods) and the rain was so thick I could barely see in front of me. So I jumped in puddles. I skipped. I sang. I spun. And as the storm grew in strength, so did I, careening from puddle to puddle, foot to foot, note to note. By the time I reached my apartment I had a river of water running down my forehead and pouring off my nose like a faucet into my smiling mouth. The puddles in my shoes alone could have quenched my thirst for a week. But as I opened my door, giggling like a child, debating whether it was worthwhile to take another shower, I noticed that the inside of what was supposed to be a waterproof pocket was soaked. And, smile fading, I took out my phone (the inanimate object in my life that I depend on for a scary amount of things that I don´t like to think about often) to find that it too had taken a nice long bath. In a panic, I turned it off, disassembled all of the parts that I could, and rushed to find some dry rice to put them in. (Readers note: when people say to put your phone in rice if it gets wet to absorb the moisture, they mean normal white rice, not organic brown rice. Organic brown rice breaks apart and sticks to all of the little important delicate electronic inner parts of your phone and gives you a heart attack.) But my phone is a champ and despite all sorts of rice and rain related mistreatment, somehow it still works.

Tía Cecilia's birthday meal at Tía Charín's house

Gathering Round the Table

One of my aunts called me a few weekends ago inviting me to celebrate another aunt´s birthday. She had prepared a meal so that the birthday girl (who has always done so much to take care of other family members) wouldn´t have to lift a finger, and had invited a few family members to share it with. We all met at Tía Charín´s house, since it is difficult to leave home when you are 101 years old. Tía Charín welcomed us, birthday girl and all, into her small home, and was very accepting of various furniture re-arranging to accommodate everyone at one table. Sharing this meal with relatives from four different generations, everyone crowded around that one table, I realized that I was a part of something incredibly special. I treasured every last note of conversation and laughter. I cannot even begin to express in words how lucky I am to be able to call all of these incredible people family.

 My cousin Lau and I at Corona Capital

 Belle and Sebastian playing in a field of mud

Mud and Music

Last Sunday my cousin and I went to the Corona Capital music festival, or as some call it the “hipster capital.” The lineup was a dream come true: all of my favorite alternative electronic/rock bands in one day. And then before the first band I knew even came on, the sky opened up. And it poured. It poured that kind of rain that leaves you feeling soaked to the bone. The kind that pelts you sideways, mocking ponchos and raincoats. But then as quickly as it came, it stopped. It was one of those events that could have been a disaster in the perspective of some, but when shared with such an easy-going and upbeat person like Lau, it ended up being an incredible concert with some high-quality mud-dancing and cousin-bonding. Everyone I have told about the concert so far has asked me incredulously, “You stayed til the end?” Of course we did. We were young and mud-soaked and carefree. There is nothing more simultaneously invigorating and exhausting as spending all day on your feet at a concert, soaking in the music of your generation. And just so you don´t worry, our shoes did survive in the end (after a thorough washing).

Sunlight

So in this joyous, nonsensical, tempestuous new life of mine it is easy to miss the little things. Which I am trying hard not to do. And this Monday one of those things found me. I was walking to buy my weekly unavoidably necessary gigantic jug of bottled water (which always makes me cringe because plastic and the environment and ugh), which meant that needless to say I wasn’t in the greatest mood. And then suddenly I turn around and just look at my building and stop. The late afternoon light cast a warm glow on the whole building, and I felt a rush of affection. This was home. This crazy, bustling, welcoming, stressful, eye-opening, heartwarming, beautiful place.

Freedom

 “I’m free, I think. I shut my eyes and think hard and deep about how free I am, but I can’t really understand what it means. All I know is I’m totally alone. All alone in an unfamiliar place, like some solitary explorer who’s lost his compass and his map. Is this what it means to be free? I don’t know, and I give up thinking about it.”

-          Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

My current working definition of freedom: living on your own in a foreign place. There is so much to explore and even after two months there are moments when I still can’t believe that I am here. The possibilities are limitless with the entirety of Mexico City at my fingertips.

But being free can also be lonely.

For anyone living on their own in a new city, I highly recommend Meetup.com. I dove in headfirst, joining any group within a 5 mile radius, eager to meet new people.  I’ve joined a language exchange group, an outdoor adventures club, an Aztec explorers tour group, a vegetarians/vegans meetup, a board game gathering, and a yoga group. There is also a book club and we just got our reading assignment (sounds like I’m in school again haha) for our next book discussion, hence the Kafka on the Shore. It is a bizarre novel, but Murakami certainly nails the paradox of freedom.

It is strange how there are moments when I feel completely at home and others where I feel like I have the word “gringa” written on my forehead. When I’m playing board games with the Meetup group (great way to learn random Spanish words btw, like “comodín” = wild card) I feel at home, like I’ve instantly just made 30 new friends. And then there are those moments where I mess up counting pesos in a restaurant and I feel like an idiot.

Mexico’s independence day, September 16^th, was no stranger to this paradox of freedom and feeling at home. We had a long weekend (“puente”) for the holiday and I was invited to celebrate with the family of a good friend of my cousin Monday night for El Grito (when the president reads a speech remembering the leaders of the Mexican Revolution ending with a proud shout of “¡Viva México!”). This was one of those times where I felt completely at home: I tried pozole, a delicious soup very traditional for independence day and set off firecrackers for the first time in the streets. I felt like a kid again and was glad to have been welcomed with such open arms by my friend’s family.

 Then on the Tuesday the 16^th there was the military parade. This was one of those foreigner moments. As a New Yorker I was expecting some sort of Thanksgiving Day parade equivalent. Military parades are very different. There were no dancers or festive balloons or anything…just an endless trail of guns and artillery and men (and some women) in uniform marching in synchronized steps. It was both impressive and terrifying. I’d never seen so many guns in one place before. It was unsettling to see firsthand the paradox that freedom and violence are often intertwined. The parade was made to make Mexican citizens feel safe and be reminded of the power of their military – both in ammunition and in civil service projects (building bridges, anti-hunger programs etc.). But for me it was a jarring to see children cheering as tanks and anti-aircraft artillery and endless rows of face-painted soldiers marched by.

  So. Many. Guns. 

These are just a few pictures...I took over 100 of pretty much this same thing, in different colors and sizes.

But freedom is not just for countries : individuals also have the freedom to create. Endeavor recently had a staff training session at RedBox (not the DVD rental company from the US, but the innovative Mexican consulting company). Just walking into their office is inspiring with its modern architecture and glowing inspirational quotes on the walls. I felt at home because it was as if I was back in school: desks, a speaker, a conversation about abstract ideas (innovation, inspiration, creativity). In classroom autopilot mode, I furiously took notes before I remembered that there would be no exam at the end of this lesson. It was strange to break down an intangible concept like “innovation” into a concrete process with step by step instructions. Everyone innately has the freedom to be creative, but we construct limits and walls in our minds that make us think we are “just not the creative type” or that we have writer’s block. 

 

It’s incredible that after so many years of civilization we are still able to create new things. Ancient civilizations began this endless process and we continue it, constantly building on what came before. Sometimes literally. Last weekend I visited the Aztec ruins at La Plaza de las Tres Culturas and Templo Mayor. The intricate detail in these constructions from ancient civilizations is incredible, and yet it was so quickly destroyed and covered with new buildings by the Spanish colonists, blind to the beauty of the civilization they sought to conquer. At both of these sites, churches are built directly on top of Aztec temples and pyramids, crushing the Aztec culture and imposing a new ideology on the native civilization. Walking through el Zocalo after visiting both ruins, I found myself wondering what buried ancient treasures lie beneath the concrete under my feet. Freedom and destruction are divided by a fine line. Mexico City used to be a huge lake, until the colonists, free to use as much water as they wanted, used it all up and turned it into a dry urban basin that today we fill with smog.

 La Plaza de las Tres Culturas

 Templo Mayor with the cathedral in the background

Inside the church Nuestra Señora de los Angeles in a neighborhood near La Plaza de las Tres Culturas

So I am free. Free to live on my own in a new country. Free to do so thanks to the efforts of countless people who came before me, creating and destroying. Initially, my new freedom was overwhelming, but these past few weeks have made me more aware of what I can do to use it well. There is so much culture and history to explore here, and I have only just begun.