It's difficult to describe the past few weeks. I've lived abroad before, but this time it's different. There is so much stress! Some interesting events have transpired. Here's a brief list.
1-- At 1:00am on Monday, June 7th, my birthday, I was mugged....sort of. Roommates Cynthia and Sahiry and I were walking toward our house, sober mind you, we hadn't been out drinking. I saw a shadow to my right on the road of someone on a bicycle approaching quickly, so I turned to face it. A guy about my age grabbed my butt and my bag. I tried to swat him away, but to no avail. He snapped my bag right off my shoulder and turned the corner on bike. So I chased him down. I ran after him, and when he saw this skinny white girl running after him, he did a double take and slowed down. Then he turned back around and tried to pedal away, but I had already caught up to him. I put my feet on each side of his bike, grabbed his shoulders, and pulled us and the bike to the ground. Then I grabbed my bag back and started screaming at him. Then he started to cry, more to get away with what he did, but I wasn't buying it. He eventually rode off, but not with my bag.
2--- At 3:30am on Monday, June 14th, my third roommate Natalie decided it was about time she go to the hospital because she had slept for two days, except when she was in the bathroom sick, which happened with increasing frequency. She was moaning in pain when we took her in. She was admitted, and was there until Tuesday at 7:00pm. Cynthia, Sahiry, and I took turns sleeping on the uncomfortable couch in the room which, I might add, was not quite clean. Neither was the sheet with blood all over it hanging out of the garbage can in the hall. Anyway, it was a LONG couple of days.
3-- At one point during our extended stay at the hospital (and, oh, it felt like an extended stay), I decided to get my own tests done. I found out I have residual salmonella typhus, a very strong bacterial infection, and some other infection not worth naming because it's gross. So I'm on medication now and cannot have dairy, broth, sugar or alcohol for a week.
4-- At another point during the hospital stay, I asked the nurse to take my weight. When I converted kilos to pounds on my phone, I thought I had made a mistake. But no, I was right, I have lost twelve pounds in the past month. I weigh the same now as I did in high school.
5-- I found a place called Kitch 'n' Bagels that sells- you guessed it- kitchy knick knacks and fresh bagels. It's a place where you can go to rent movies and watch them in a room that looks like an opium den. You can play pool, or you can listen to a story teller. There are also tarot card readings. They offer a wide selection of small glass boxes containing skeleton figurines in dresses or farmwear, waiting on benches or sipping sodas with companions, usually with a cheesy saying painted somewhere on the box, usually something like "te amo siempre." It's the weirdest place ever, but the bagels are good.
6-- I went to a house party where the cover was either 20 pesos or a "kilo of help." I later learned this means that the party is a fundraising event for a good cause, but it will be full of many hippies and backpackers who seem to have taken an oath against showering or even swimming. There they will be, with flea-infested dogs in tow (no exaggeration). It's not that I don't like meeting each of these people individually; it's more that I don't like being close to people who reek and could potentially give me fleas or one of the infectious skin diseases that are prevalent here (according to a friend who lives here). Especially when accompanying the odor and parasitic potential is a weed-induced, half-hour lecture about how much you don't understand the life of the people here because you could never know because you are from the States. So I bring the kilo of help (bag of rice or other non-perishable), I get a beer and I sit by the fire (there is usually a fire), which I figure wards off smell and bugs. Viva la lucha, Viva la ducha.
So, lots going on. I'm helping with a case at the Center for Women's Rights. It's pretty intense and it's really a challenge. I'm really, really, really getting sick of tacos. I am vascillating between feelings of guilt for having so many luxuries at home and a ferocious desire to get back to them.
That's not to say that I'm not enjoying my time here. I have wonderful roommates, and I am really honored by the work the Center is allowing me to help with. I like what I'm doing. I've made a lot of sacrifices for what I'm doing. This is by no means a vacation. I will write more about the Center another day. Suffice it to say that this experience is stretching me and will forever impact my life and my career. My homesickness is not enough to send me home, and it's not enough to blind me to what's going on in Chiapas, the serious human rights violations that are all around me at all times. I know why I'm here, and I know I made the right decision to come here. I guess I'm going on like this because tomorrow is Dani's wedding, and I'm not there, and she's not happy about it. It's devastating. Literally, I'm very upset. But there is nothing I can do to change the situation. But my helplessness and my grief is nothing compared to what is around me. I can go home in a month in a half.
Well, if you've made it through this, you get a gold star! Kind of weighty, this one. I'll bring levity to the next.
