Probaditas de Morelia

I was thinking about how we measure success and specifically about what I’ve accomplished here in my first five months. If I went home tomorrow, what would I take with me? What would I say in my next job interview? Embarrassing, petty thoughts, but mine nonetheless. I’d love to blame them on my native culture, thoughts typical of Yanks who work too hard and enjoy life too little, but in the end their origin makes no difference. So what have I added to the world since I moved to Mexico? What accomplishments can I put on my resume? Well, nothing really. But I have learned something during my time here that makes me not care.

This “nothing” scared me at first. At one time I was on a path that may be familiar to you: AP classes, SAT tutors, extracurricular activities, an Ivy League education, and then an investment banking job in San Francisco. But I didn’t like that path. I saw myself rich and miserable in ten years. So I quit. Took another job with a better work/life balance but it didn’t sit right either. A number of events transpired to convince me the next step was a move to Mexico but that wasn’t a decision made with the mind. It was a leap of faith dealing with dreams and matters of the heart. I didn’t have to think about it and I’ve never regretted it.

I did come here with a list of things I wanted to achieve but so far, what I planned hasn’t come to pass. I started to feel bad about this but that was short sighted. It’s easy to obsess about the type of success you can measure and turn into bullet points but there is so much more to life than that. I’ve lived in a foreign country for five months. I’ve learned I enjoy writing. I’ve almost become fluent in Spanish. Most importantly, however, I listened to my heart and followed a dream, something I’ve never done before. I believe we die a little bit each time we shy away from a dream, avoiding the risk, sticking to the safe, well-trodden path, and I would forever be slightly less than whole had I not taken this step.

Despite our country’s, and perhaps the world’s, obsession with the intellect, I don’t believe you can think and reason your way to a happy life. Sadly, it just doesn’t work that way. Accomplishments and intellectual pursuits are a part of life, not the whole ensemble. If I’ve accomplished anything here, it’s that I’ve started learning how to live. It sounds trivial, but in reality we spend most of our lives working and worrying about the future, but never just living. But that is exactly what I’m doing here, living, at the most basic level: learning to communicate, cooking, eating, dancing, laughing, feeling, and loving. I’m sure there will be more bullet points for me to add to my resume in the months and years to come but for now, I’m living between the lines and I think it is the best thing I’ve ever accomplished.

My apartment doesn't have a mailbox. Luckily I don't get any mail. But what about the bills? You are dying to know. I sense this question burning deeply in your minds. I will not let you down. There are, it turns out, a few proven solutions to this problem.

1. Mail it anyway and see what happens. The post office here is more like the Pony Express of the 1800's without the ponies or any sense of urgency.
2. Pay your own people to walk around and shove the naked bill, sans envelope, into any available crack or crevice in the front of the house and hope it is found.
   
3. Don't send a bill.

Number 3 is my favorite. I've not paid a penny for cable internet for two months nor heard a peep from anyone. A call to the company confirmed that all systems are normal, they simply don't send bills. So now we wait to see who blinks first in this bloodless war of nerves.

On the flip side, I also can't pay my bills through the mail. A much less amusing problem. On bill day I walk all over the city to the various approved banks and convenience stores who accept payments for each bill. 7-11 for the water bill, a bank for the electricity bill, and if I ever pay it, the tiny cable office that lacks a street number or, according to the recepcionist, a cross street.

I write this not to complain about the reality but to share what could be with those of you frustrated that your local grocery store doesn't offer online billpay.

Just as we passed the top of the tiny hill the taxi driver turned off the engine. We coasted for a minute or so and slowly rolled to a stop at the next traffic light. That's odd, I thought.

He did it again as we were turning the corner close to my final destination. No hill this time. He just decided we had enough velocity to roll for a while. Turns out it we didn't. The engine belched a note of disapproval as he performed an ungraceful, rolling restart.

I'm still not sure if he was trying to save gas or just spice up his day but I it amused me nonetheless.

Blogs are crazy. Yes, I know, a bold statement. Just calm down for a second and I'll explain myself.

I live here in Morelia. You all know this. You are my friends and I emailed you this page when I left. And yet not everyone who reads this got that email. How these things happen is beyond me. Google, schmoogle I say. Nobody is out there searching for me or "Probaditas de Morelia". And yet somehow I've met several people as a result of this page. The best example being our new friends Emily and Sergio.

Emily is from Michigan and Sergio is from Morelia. They met there and now live here. Emily has a blog just like me. Or I have a blog just like Emily (her's came first so I'm the unknowing Morelia blogger copycat). Somehow she stumbled onto my blog, emailed me, and we all had drinks and then tacos together. And the weirdest thing is that when you meet people this way you already feel like friends because you've read each other's stories.

I had no idea that I would enjoy writing this blog and I certainly had no idea that it would lead to new friends, but I do, and it did, and that is crazy.

I know nobody cares but the US lost their first game of the 2006 World Cup. We have one of the hardest groups of the tournament and were soundly spanked by the Czech Republic (ranked #2 in the world) today in our opening match.

The World Cup is a huge deal here. When a game is in progress, if you happen to be walking around in the street, you can here the TV comentary seeping through the walls of every business and residence. People were generally nice about our loss but nobody feels particularly sorry for me given that four years ago the US knocked Mexico out of the tournament. People tell me it was one of the worst days they can remember. The whole country was in shock and it remains a touchy subject best avoided in pleasant conversation.

Anyway, I don't feel too bad because no one expected us to win and the Czech team scored three beautiful goals, but still, there is always that glimmer of hope.

Next stop, Italy. Ughh.

The final set of photos from my parent's trip to Morelia.

More pictures from my parents visit...






Part 3 coming soon...