Diary of a Juera: La Regresa.

Mexico, you are the boyfriend I never had, the perfect meal, the ideal outfit. We will meet again.

Mexico, where do I begin...
I was amazed and impressed on this trip and by this country. Mexico is so close, yet so many people from the USofA seem to know nothing about it, and I must admit that prior to this trip, I was ignorant of Mexico's mystique as well. I came to find out that it is a land filled with diverse people, cuisine, and geography. From jungle to desert and cosmopolitan to indigenous, Mexico has a lil somethin' for everyone.

I arrived in Mexico with no expectations, no reservations (thx tony!), and no connections. This was the first time that I planned absolutely nothing - no hostels, no bus tickets, no nada. At first, I wasn't impressed or surprised ny MX. Having the the Mission district in SF and a previous trip to de Jefe under my belt, the city streets were nothing unseen. I left Oaxaca after a couple days and embarked on a bus ride to San Cristobal, a small colonial city in the state of Chiapas. I noticed that this city had more... white people than Oaxaca. It was a balance of white, indigenous, and Mexican. I quickly noticed that many of these gringos were not tourists, but residents. I also learned that if Spanish wasn't the language of choice, it was French. (The movie shown on the bus ride from Palenque to San Cristobal was in French with Spanish subtitles, doubly un-comprehendable.)

In the heart of both San Cristobal and Oaxaca, and I imagine most other Mexican cities, there was always a Zocalo, a square in the middle of the city, and near it there was always a church. The only thing that resembles that in SF would be Union Square, but even that is an injustice, because the Zocalo acted as a cultural hub or meeting place for the community. In Oaxaca there was always organized dances and musical performances, and in San Cristobal there was even a talent show in the Zocalo. It was refreshing to see a central area in a city dedicated to community building instead of commercial activity.

If there was one motif of Mexico that was unique to Latin America, it was all the love. The streets of Oaxaca and San Cristobal were filled with couples snuggling where ever there was space. Paired with that, there was an abundance of children and adolescent mothers to be. Kids having kids! This was a town that emphasized the image of family.

Even with San Cristobal's beauty, I was not yet fulfilled. I returned to Oaxaca on the 29th, and the countdown for Dia de los Muertos tick'd away.

-- Day of the Dead was the main catalyst for this trip. Over the past few years I have developed an intimate relationship with the holiday. I really appreciate that it is a celebration of life of those who have past on, instead of the emphasis being on death. The name allows for misinterpretation, a lot of which I encountered on this trip. --

I arrived back in this city, and it seemed different from the two days I had spent in it a week earlier. Maybe it was because I was now comfortable in Mexico, maybe I was changing, maybe not. It had been flooded with tourists and the Zocalo had been transformed into a DotD alter. I began to meet people, tons of people, people from all over the world, people who had been traveling for month's, or had just embarked on a 6-12 month trip. My three week stint became instantly dwarfed.

The rest of my trip was, well, mind blowing. I went on adventures, I met loads of internationals and locals, I developed friendships and memories. I even made a cameo at the beach. The details of the days in Oaxaca and Zipolite are too special to share. I am actually still trying to soak them in.

What I can tell you is that I learned more about myself in those eight days than I have in the past two years. I was inspired by my time in Mexico, by both the people and the land. I left feeling rejuvenated and reborn, yet humbled. At this very moment, I want to return to Mexico like a child needs its mother.

I cannot express how much Mexico meant to me, all I can say is that in the last few days there and the first days back home, I repeatedly threw my face in my hands and shook my head side to side, simply in disbelief and grateful for the experience I had. Hopefully some pictures can act as the words that I cannot articulate.