Although I've only been back on the Notre Dame campus for a single week, it feels like I never left. Simultaneously, it's possible that I was gone for years and years. I've either been here forever or was gone forever, I can't quite decide. It is terribly comforting to be back in the land of FlexPoints, brown metal-framed bunkbeds from the 1980's, and, of course, my beloved roommate. I have finally readjusted to the idea of modern sewage treatment, potable tap water, sweaters, and streets without a bus or taxi in sight, but Mexico is still lingering in the back of my mind (not to mention in my digestive tract- Montezuma is one stubborn dude). I am looking forward to applying myself academically again and turning my vague ideas about applying to medical school into a reality.
This return to the old daily drudgery (ok drudgery is maybe a bit melodramatic, work with me.) is lightened by my summer prospects. I applied on a whim for a grant through the Kellogg Institute to participate in a service-based medical internship in Latin America and was selected for the Mexico program. If all goes well, I will be spending 8 weeks of my summer break in Oaxaca, Mexico, working in a medical clinic and living with a local host family. I am indescribably excited to return to the country that taught me so much this past semester and that will always have a special place in my heart.
So that's where I am. Settling into a newly rediscovered, familiar routine and taking things one day at a time.
And in case you haven't yet had the opportunity to ask an un-subtle question about run-ins with gun-slinging narcos, the answer is "No, güey."
I arrived at the Mexico City Benito Juarez International Airport at least 5 hours before my flight, well-prepared with a supply of pirated DVDs, a fully-charged iPod, and firm napping intentions. After the nice Delta employee checked my UNDERWEIGHT bags, he smiled, wished me a good trip and asked, "¿No tienes frío?" Typical Mexican. If I had a pesito for every time I heard that question this semester, I would have a chingo of pesos. Contrary to Mr. Delta's beliefs, it was a beautiful, sunny morning with the promise of at least 25°C (75°F for you silly non-metric thinkers) and I was appropriately dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. This poor man looked at my bare arms with legitimate concern and shivered. His muffler and 3 layers of sweaters were barely warding off hypothermia. I smiled, shook my head and set out in search of Security and a power outlet. Security was less than tight and I was soon settled in with my movies and cacahuates japonesas. After several hours and a last-minute unannounced gate change, I settled into seat 16A as reality simultaneously settled in. I was leaving Mexico.
My trip was about as uneventful as a 10 hour cross-continental journey could be expected to be. It mainly featured restless naps, the first of which started before we ever left the Mexico City tarmac. So much for my plans to wish DF farewell from the air.
Now, after 149 days of si por favor's, corn tortillas, pyramids and street markets, I am back in Idaho. I could probably make a good argument for the re-immersion at home being a bigger culture shock than my arrival in Mexico. Time and faded memories may have some impact on the accuracy of this statement however. There are a few main aspects to which it's been the strangest to readjust: plumbing, language, and noise.
- Plumbing: Despite spending the first 20 years of my life in this country and being home for 3 days, I still have an internal struggle each time I go to dispose of toilet paper. My reflex is to throw it in the trash and I keep catching myself looking around for the trash can that isn't there. Toilet paper just doesn't look right in the toilet. Additionally, I am still readjusting to the idea of clean tap water. As my friend filled the coffee pot with tap water this morning, I wanted to yell DON'T USE THAT WATER. I've been purposely filling my glass in the sink instead of from the fridge filter just to override that mental reflex. MMMM aquifer.
- Language: Although I haven't actually said anything in Spanish, I have this weird double translation thing going on. In the airport, for example, I wanted to say "thank you" to the flight attendant, translated that to "gracias", then caught myself at the last minute and said "thank you" as originally planned. I never really noticed my habit of using Spanglish until spending the last 2 weeks with my monolingual family. ¡Ay ay ay!
- Noise: Compared to the bustling, 24/7 dance party & traffic jam of Mexico, Idaho is completely deserted. The roads are nearly empty, life is no longer soundtracked by Enrique and Papa Americano, and I haven't heard a car alarm in days. The silence is nice but also a little eerie. Where are all the people?!?!
And now that I think about it, the temperature is also getting to me. Maybe that Delta employee was just psychic because it has been arctically (yes, I made up this word) frigid here in good ol'North Idaho, to the tune of single digit degrees (Fahrenheit, not Celsius). My semester's worth of "no" answers to the previously posed question have caught up with me and my current answer is a resounding "CLARO QUE SÍ." Sparkling Winter Wonderlands come with their price I guess.
Besides these general readjustments, I've been going through Mexico Withdrawals, which I've been remedying with countless stories starting with "In Mexico…" I'm sure everyone is sick of my blabbering, references to obscure towns, and non sequitur stories. Deal with it.
I have all intentions of returning to El País del Maíz. It was too great to leave as simply a memory of That One Time I Spent Five Months in Mexico. I will hopefully be going back as soon as this summer; more news on that in about a week.
¡Nos vemos!
