Adios Torreon

Posted: July 30, 2012 in Mexico
Tags: , , , ,

I flew back to Tijuana from Torreon after a tearful good-bye. Leaving my familia was scary. With them, I was safe. Their were no predators in Mexico, as far as I was concerned.

I absorbed all things Mexico and was honored by the experience. My understanding of the Mexican culture made me critical of the American culture.

I learned that Americans ate way too much. My food intake was controlled. Breakfast and dinner were light meals and lunch was the main event. And the quality was surpassed by nothing in the states. Nevermind the fat farms, my Mexican family was all I needed to lose 20 lbs.

I was transformed into a poised young lady. I felt good about my body, heart and mind.  It’s amazing how years can go by without you looking at yourself. This time, I liked what I saw. I was beautiful and I was seeing it for the first time.

I learned how to speak Spanish without sounding like a Chola. This, I believed, made me better than most. I went to Torreon an American and returned a Mexican.

Mexico possessed a natural flow in all things urban and rural.  The city buses, noisy markets, parks, villages, colonies and the country side all seemed explosively quaint, edgy and colorfully real.

Mexicans, I also learned, came in all shapes, sizes, colors and ideologies. Black, Chinese, Muslim, Jewish and homosexual Mexicans lived side by side with their devout and morally flawed Catholics.

There were also the indigenous tribes who had their own language and religion.  Mexicans had blonde hair, blue or green eyes!  Who knew?  This cornucopia of humanity was overwhelming and wonderful.

Stories of the Mexican Revolution, were passed on to me. Daughters being hidden from soldiers to avoid being raped, was common.  Acts of revenge were frequent and expected.  Disease, hunger and corruption was found everywhere.  When people have nothing, they resort to anything.

The lack of literacy crippled the masses that didn’t reside in cities.  I saw illiteracy as a self-imposed prison. My mother and her siblings never got past the 8th grade, but they never stopped learning. Books were always available and utilized.

Education came in many forms for my family. You had street smarts, business savvy, social rules and book smarts. All these disciplines had to be mastered.

When I stepped off the plane in Tijuana, I was different. I could feel Mexico seeping out of me and it felt like death. I was mourning the death of the Mexicana Monica.

I embraced my mother half-heartedly and found myself locked into idle chatter with her. The drive to Pasadena was 3 hours and I mostly slept. My heart was breaking, but I didn’t shed a tear.

I was back home based on tears and promises, issued by my mother. It was a mistake that I would repeatedly pay for.

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Comments
  1. chicapoet says:

    I loved you post. I am happy that you enjoyed your trip to Mexico, maybe you can revisit your family and learn some more things. They have such beautiful traditions, like the posadas, and excellent food. I especially enjoy los cocteles de camaron, and the milk shakes they sell at the plaza; and all the scary stories they tell about la LLorona and el cucuy.

    Like

    • coconutspeak says:

      I have been back several times since I was left. The first 19 posts of coconutspeak is more about how my life experiences affected my self-image and identity. It isn’t all rosey, but it is painfully honest.
      Adios, Amiga

      Like

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