Final Reflections

Well I’m writing this on the airplane out of Mexico, which makes me feel like one of those fancy businessmen a couple rows ahead of me. I’m killing time and listening to my creatively-titled “Mexico” playlist, which reminded me I have a blog! I’d just like to sum up my last week in Mexico and share some reflections on what it’s meant for me. I’m very sleep-deprived, so bear with me.

While some of these things might not make sense to everyone, here is a list of things I’ll really miss about Mexico:
Music everywhere, amazing hot sauces to put on everything (pizza, chips, mangoes, vegetables, whatever), the sound of Mexican slang words, fruit in the street, musicians on the city buses, calls like “ay güerita!”, aguas frescas, the smell of flowers, the sun beating down, musicians in city buses, beans with everything, Mexican coca cola, speaking Spanish, food stands everywhere, the sounds of Banda, Wall Street, rides in Chavarin’s cars, wiggling my pointer finger to say “yes,” chilaquiles, not having bus schedules, drinking beers in cars, dogs in the street instead of taken to the pound, everyone, whether you know them or not, standing up to greet you with a cheek kiss, a relaxed attitude towards time.

Right now I’m in the Houston Airport and I’m currently feeling the effects of sadness of leaving Mexico. I think it’s more acute than when I left Germany because leaving Germany, my time there and experience with their culture was something private that I had in my memories and became an object across the Atlantic that I could visit. However, arriving here in Dallas, I’m affronted with a bunch of terrible looking “Mexican” restaurants and everyone in the food court is speaking Spanish. I would love to just speak Spanish to them and ignore the bro dudes in their khaki shorts and flip flops. I can’t leave Mexico behind so easily and think of it as a separate part of my life, which is good and bad. Its heavy integration with the U.S. and its culture means I have easier access to Mexican sauces, music and people. However, I’m frustrated by how so many of my fellow Americans think they know all about Mexico, when really most don’t at all!! I want to protect my memory of Mexico but I can’t do that here. For now, I’m contenting myself to lurk next to the Italian stand in the food court and listen to everyone using Mexican slang, imagining myself at my favorite taco stand instead, with blasting music as the only rprotest against the dry sun beating against the pavement.