Personal Travel Narrative

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Every year we go to Mexico. Same place, same time of year. One afternoon after school, my mother surprised me though. I was at work, where I usually was on Friday after school. School was almost ending for the year; it was the 31st of May and school was out on the 4th of June. I hated school but I hated work even more. My vacations were always filled with work and problems arisen from work. Worse yet, I knew that after the summer I would get to school and hear the joy of the other kid’s vacations. Mine were always the same. Work, work, work, and the last week of August we would go to Mexico. I hated work. But this Friday was full of surprises. My mother asked me to her office. This was a surprise. My mother hates me; last thing she would do is call me to her office because she knows I would try linger around and chat. I figured I was getting canned again or winning a million dollars, and I had my doubts on the latter. “You’re going to visit your grandma,” she said, the minute I walked into her office. Before I could fully negate the idea she interrupted “You’ll go to Mexico- alone.”

I didn’t know how to react. I was unsure if this was a gift or some kind of sick punishment. Thoughts ran through my mind. After the initial panic, I realized that I would be having the best time of my life. My grandma lives in Aguascalientes, a beautiful metropolis: big city, lots of people, lots of bars, anything anyone wants at their disposal, best of all no age limits. Cops are so corrupt there that a 7 year old can walk the streets drunk and as long as they get a little “mordida” they were happy. The next words out her mouth threw my dream out the window, “You’re going to Villa Morelos.” The panic set in again.

I knew nothing about Villa Morelos. I tried my hardest to talk my way out of it but with no luck. I promised to do better in school. I said I would work harder. I spoke on how much I love them as my parents and wanted to spend my vacation with them. I begged not to go. I wanted to throw myself down on the ground and throw a tantrum. I switched my tactics around and spoke eloquently on how I could grow as a person in all regions, from language, to culture, to faith, if I just went to Aguascalientes. In the end, I would be in Villa Morelos for 1 ½ months and the other 1 ½ months of my break would be spent in Aguascalientes. The thing I love about my mother is that she does things without asking and then lets it known at the last minute. She told me that she already had my tickets, since March, and that I would be leaving on the 5th of June, one day after I get out of school. The reason for my trip is still unknown to me.

O’Hare airport was my departure point. My uncle dropped me off. No “goodbye’s”, no “have funs”, no nothing. He simply pulled away from the curb not be seen for another 3 months. On the plane my mother had chosen the worst seats possible. The minute the flight attendant asked for two passengers to give up their seats my arm fly. I thought it my escape route, all that happened was that I got bumped to first class. At least some good came of it. I looked down on the continental U.S. from up above, wishing the plane would crash.

I was the only person in first class. I spoke a lot to the attendant. We had made a single-serving friendship. When I told her where I was going and that this was my first trip there, she laughed, said to the likes of “good luck”. All I could do was think of what “good luck” meant. I fell asleep only to be awakened by my single-serving friend, the flight attendant. We had landed. I was the last person on the plane. She wished me well and I departed. The minute I stepped outside the air had a pungent odor to it, like horse shit. I said a little prayer. After checking all my things and getting my bags I went outside again, into the shit air, where I saw a familiar face, my uncle Tavo. He was there with a man named Javier, a taxi driver who was going to take us home. Once inside the taxi I asked how long the ride was. Expecting a 20 minute trip tops, I got “Four hours.” I decided to take another nap.

Four hours later when I woke up, I was outside of a house that was unknown to me. The air actually smelled worse too. I stepped outside and realized the streets were something similar to cobblestone. I said another prayer under my breath.

My grandmother greeted me and asked if I wanted to rest, I had slept enough so I declined. She asked if I wanted to do the morning shopping with her, that I said yes to, I need to stretch out my limbs. We were accompanied by grandmother’s housekeeper. For me, this was going to be a trip of discovery. In an unknown town, you can get a sense of what life will be like by their markets- something I learned from my father. We walked to the town square, which was only a block away. I was astonished by what I saw. No stores, none. Most of the town’s people had set up little tables with all kinds of goods: vegetables, clothes, meats, cigarettes, cigars, movies, batteries- everything one could possible need. It was a loud plaza, everyone haggled over goods, money was rarely exchanged, mostly one good for another. The biggest shock was that no one, no one accepted American bills. We went home from there.

In the evening, my uncle and I decided to walk around town after dinner to let the food settle. I felt like a total alien. That evening I had showered, shaved, and changed my clothing to something fresher. Since the sun was still up and it was going to be warm all evening I had decided to wear a seersucker suit. It became obvious that no one had ever seen a seersucker suit before and I was sticking out like a sore thumb. I felt very uncomfortable. I did not notice the architecture, the statues, the monuments; everything looked old but not peculiarly interesting. Having been in a few Mexican cities, I had grown familiar with the architecture, it’s all very familiar, and those Spaniards really knew how to build a city.

The next day at breakfast I asked about the smell. The whole town smelled: the people, the buildings, the food, everything, it was sickening. My grandma’s answer was simple, “son los animales y las granjas.” I hadn’t seen any barns and animals so I asked more about this. We decided that after breakfast I was to go walking about the town and actually pay attention to everything. No one wanted to take the walk of exploration with me so I went alone. My grandma assured me that I would be safe and she sent me on my way. After walking for about an hour I became very tired, I wasn’t sure in what direction I was heading, all I knew is that the side walk had ended about a mile from my grandmothers and I was walking on very old, very broken down cobblestone. The smell grew stronger as I walked. Literally from one side of the street to the other, the houses had a very dramatic change in look. The façade was no longer elegant or somewhat “modern”. They looked broken down and I couldn’t make out what they were made of. As I continued down the road I finally found out. Some men were putting up a house. As I stood there I thought “god this smell is disgusting”. I figured out after asking that the houses were made of adobe- a nice mixture of clay, straw, and manure. I was astonished, my feelings were in disarray. I felt disgusted in the materials, pity on the people, and strangely I understood.

The houses weren’t the only thing I found “odd”. Everything in the town seemed somewhat backwards, as if they were stuck in a little time bubble dated pre-1900s. No refrigeration, no radios, no television- as a matter of fact, no electricity for the most part. The only time I saw a car was when I was dropped off and picked up. Due to the fact that many had no electricity, foods that needed to be cooled weren’t. Meats weren’t bought at a butcher shop and kept through out the week. There was one family who one could consider the “monopoly” of meats. They slaughtered there animals and every morning drove through town with slabs of meat on a horse drawn cart, shouting at the top of his lungs. People would buy or they wouldn’t. Water was a sight to behold too. Everything just seemed odd and life seemed unbearable.

As time passed I became more and more accustomed to the pueblito. Sights like the meat cart or the water “purification” system didn’t seem as weird anymore. This is not me saying that I had a 100% acceptance and involvement in the sights, it just means that they no longer seemed different. These people have been living like this for years, whether or not they ever knew the joys of ever living in an electricity filled metropolis is beyond me, they knew this. There lives were simple. They did not judge me for the “silly” clothes I wore nor did they persecute me for shunning some aspects of their lifestyle. They went on with their days, happy to be alive and happy to be with each other. We were all Mexicans in that town; we all came from different walks of life. We may have our differences but in the end we are not friends but family. Though our customs may have been different, it did not muster them into anger and disapproval, why must it me?