Here's a short list of things I was warned not do in Mexico before leaving for the Spanish Language Study Abroad program:
1.Don't take taxis off the street -- to avoid being ripped off/being kidnapped.
2.Don't drink the water.
3.Don't eat food from street vendors, an extension of number two because of the water issue.
List of those things that I've done since arriving: well, obviously, all of them.
Before arriving in Mexico, my family and professor provided me with a phone number for a "safe" private taxi. It works pretty well when they pick up the phone, or show up when you call them or little things like that. But after you've been waiting for a half-hour outside a movie theater in a deserted parking lot at 1 a.m. for the special taxi company, and there are several other taxis just waiting right in front of you, you find it difficult to keep waiting.
I feel like I can't really complain about this to people living in New Hampshire, but it does get surprisingly cold here in Puebla at night. The hoodie I was carrying around during the day just doesn't cut it when the sun goes down. And by cold I mean less than 50 degrees, but I guess I won't dwell on the weather here. If you're already upset about the winter in Hanover, go skiing or put on another sweater or something, jeez. Or go on the Spanish LSA to Mexico next winter, trust me.
Anyway, that night after the movie was one of those beautiful moments when making the "wrong" decision doesn't backfire, but rewards you instead.
We took the taxi waiting right in front of us, and, on the trip home, the taxi driver rhapsodized about the beauty of Mexico, recommended places to travel, described his favorite cities and the differences between the people in the various Mexican states. I had never heard such a clear description of love for one's country.
He mentioned that some of his relatives live in the U.S.: Chicago, New York, Miami, Houston, etc. But most of all, he described his frustration with the government in Mexico and the economic situation of the nation. Why should the people of a nation that has everything -- beaches, jungles, ancient ruins, beautiful soil for farming, oil and lovely weather -- have to emigrate to find work? He refuses to leave Mexico and turn his back on his homeland.
Who can blame him? My house here has a pomegranate tree in the backyard. The skies are a vibrant blue every day set against buildings in reds and yellows almost as rich. The local university has peacocks and swans wandering the grounds among the flowers and trees that are still opulent, even in January.
The other rules are simply impossible to not break as well. Who can remember to not use water from the sink to brush their teeth after a shower the first night? Who can resist a two-dollar taco just waiting for you outside of the discoteca?
All I can say is, I'm crossing my fingers that I'll still be here in two and a half months to return to Hanover for Spring term. And if I'm living, I'll say that my tan will already have a long headstart on sophomore summer.
