It's been a while since I've updated, and for the most part, it's been because I haven't been travelling, for one thing. But for another, I had to take time and adjust back to life in Boston, on campus, seeing all my friends and family again. The first month back in the US was rough; while it was nice to have some uniquely American conveniences back (Target, 24 grocery stores) I miss other things a great deal.
I was appalled that I couldn't really drink at noon, pair a giant beer or wine with my lunch. Everytime I went to a cafe, I craved a cigarette and wished it were Bailey's instead of milk in my coffee. I still swear in Spanish sometimes, and spell words in Spanish. The first day back, when speaking to family, I would start a sentence in Polish only to forget words or finish the statement in castellano. It got really bad when I was drinking with friends; you could tell that I'd had too much when I got to the point that I would refuse to speak English. Not many of my friends were Spanish speakers, so they would get concerned, not knowing whether or not I was coherent at times.
But I digress. The point is that I've had about 9 months to adjust. And not a day has gone by yet that I have not had some thought about Burgos, my friends, or some other random memory. A song comes on shuffle, a dish at a restaurant, anything will set me off. And after settling down for a semester, grateful to not be living out of a suitcase, I needed to travel again.
I always thought that "the travelling bug" was kind of pretentious, mostly because people I knew got really pretentious when talking about their travels. I hope I'm not that way, because I've definitely caught the bug myself. Which brings me to the giant Mexican flag at the top of this entry. About three weeks ago, I was talking to my friend Andrea and I said we should go somewhere together for spring break. Around Boston, there are a lot of cheap weekend getaways to Montreal, New York, Philly...
I wanted something warmer. Boston isn't exactly known for mild winters, and I needed sun. So I said, "Well, I know tickets to Mexico are cheap". And things came together after that. A third friend of ours, Ko, lived in Mexico City with her family. A fourth friend, Marie, spontaneously tagged along. And Frida Kahlo, the woman of my soul, is probably Mexico City's most famous resident. Her house still stands here and it became Tourist Attraction No. 1.
Three weeks later, I'm here in my friend's bed. The four of our are cuddling after an exhausting two days of sight-seeing and two nights of drinking and goofing around. Periodically, we'll look at eachother and say "We are so lucky to be here". But, really, we so are.