I Love Mexico, but...
JESSICA ROSENBERG (journalism graduate student) writes:
I'm afraid to go back. I spent a semester in Oaxaca when I was junior in college. Although that was six years ago, the memories are still with me. They are present in a scar on my leg. That scar marks a moment in time - evidence of a spill I took while hiking with friends I had just made.
They are present in the rush of adrenaline I feel when I go swimming – a reminder of the panic-stricken afternoon dip that could have killed me.
The memories come to me every time I slam a shot of mescal. The taste takes me back to late nights in streets and clubs and cemeteries that will never happen again.
During those four months I was overwhelmed – in every sense of the word - and I can’t explain why. Maybe it was because I missed my boyfriend. Maybe it was because I was there during September 11 and the world was so uncertain. Maybe it was because I got caught up in the culture that only thinks of today and doesn’t need a reason to celebrate.
It’s easy to get swept off your feet in a place where everything is intense – the sun, the colors, the flavors, your feelings. And it’s easy to forget about work and chores and unpleasant relationships when everything around you begs your attention.
I love Mexico, but I’m afraid to go back. I fear my susceptibility in place where I gave in to temptation so many times I’m embarrassed to admit. As a 20 year old, I thought everyone was great and everything seemed like a good idea. I’d like to believe that today I am wiser, stronger, and able to resist with ease, but there is a part of me that is nervous I’m not. What if it all happens again? I barely handled it last time, will I this time around?
Despite this feeling, I’m excited to return. I’m excited to write about a people and place I feel passionately about. I’m excited to see the parts of the culture I previously overlooked. Excited to discover if my memories of Mexico are really the true Mexico.