¡Viva Mexico!

How fitting that Mexican Independence Day is also the two-month mark of the end of our monumental Fulbright experience.

It took me a while to adjust to being home. Waking up the first few days, I kept looking for Ricardo and the bus, and I could still hear the voices of my friends. I immediately bought new clothes because after living out of a suitcase, I was tired of repeatedly wearing the same outfits! I slept a lot, and tried not to forget the taste of the things I ate in Mexico as my body adjusted to American over-processed, chemically adjusted food.

Upon returning home, my friends in "real life" have constantly remarked on my difference--apparently I look different, act differently, move differently and even sound different. I think that the México experience was one of those Moses-on-the-mountain experiences--an experience that changes you so much that it cannot help but be manifested physically as well. Of course, these "changes" are a result of many things ocurring in my life, the Fulbright trip being the latest in a series of dramatic events. Still, it has changed me fundamentally and it's exciting to see how it is being played out in my life. I have an even more pro-diversity outlook on life (which is slightly political in nature and deserves its own, separate post), I've been cooking, trying valiantly to recreate the dishes I loved in México (with varying degrees of success) and, of course, my Spanish has improved dramatically--although I find that it's not really as if I know a whole lot more words; I'm just less afraid to try and use them.

In fact, being less afraid is probably the most important thing I've taken with me from this trip. I remember an instance of this, when I was standing on the beach in Mazatlán and found myself suddenly terrified of the ocean.

I'd been dreaming of the beach since the beginning of the trip, and there I was, facing the ocean and a magnificent puesta del sol, and I wouldn't move. The waves were so loud and all I could think about was that there was water as far as I could see, and I was afraid. Agustín remarked on the absurdity: already in the water, almost too far away for me to hear him, he called to me to join him ("It's not scary!"), but I couldn't.

How vast is the ocean! What an incredible opportunity, what wonderful possibilities there are! It could take me someplace amazing! Or, I could drown. Isn't this how life is, though? Aren't we often at some juncture in our lives, when we have a choice to stand and watch everything or to jump in, even if we don't know what "jumping in" will mean for us?

Yet some would argue that even the experience of drowning is better than no experience at all. After a few minutes, I joined Agustín in the water. I had a great time even though I got washed away a few times.

For much of my life, I lived with that "fear of drowning--" the idea that it's better to play it safe than to risk failure or embarrassment. Somehow, in México, most of the time that fear eluded me. My desire to experience everything was stronger than my fear, and even when things seemed scary I tried them anyway. It was probably because each day I woke up hyper-vigilant, reveling in every moment, aware that every second was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

I wonder how much better my life would be if I lived every day like that--if I remembered that each day is its own and that it's to be lived as fully as possible? Of course, the mundanity of my daily American life pales in comparison to the vibrance that was Mexico, but maybe my life would be more vibrant if I had less fear!

I was heartbroken at the end of our trip. I'm still embarrassed about being the person who cried the most at the airport. I remember getting out of the cab, and walking through the door of my little apartment and bursting into tears (again). Suddenly being alone was so shocking to me. I was sad at having to leave my new best friends and my newly adopted pais.

Of course, I didn't have to be sad for long--two months on, my memories are still vivid, and I am thrilled that all of us continue to communicate & cultivate friendships. I've even been blessed enough to be reunited with a few of my new Fulbright friends which has made me feel so much better! Clearly, we all share something unique and incredible, and our experience has not ended. In fact, the spirit of Fulbright didn't die when we left México--it lives on, through our pictures and our words; through our lives and our new friendships. Fulbright lives--¡Viva México!