I finally let gravity prevail as I dropped my backpack to the floor of the airport terminal and relieved my body to a chair. I was in the airport again, alone. I hadn't stopped one time nor seen much of anything familiar for the last 5 months, and I was getting ready to do it again, for another three. But i loved it, I loved everything about it. The ironic thing was that I hadn't really been home in a very long time, and at this particular moment, I felt more at home while traveling, than I ever had before. I arrived at the small Morelian airport just after sunset, we walked down the stairs of the plane and entered the building. That night I met my new family. Vicki, greeted me at the door and following close behind was Rana (a nickname meaning ''frog'')a family friend. Rana was my first introduction to the group of friends that I would be spending many of my nights with. Rana truly resembled a frog, espeically since the alcohol he had been consuming permitted his eyes to wander aimlessly throughout his head. I sat my bags in my room, and was drawn towards the noise. The backyard was an energetic gathering of my host father, a few of his friends, as well as my host brother and his closest compadres. Johnny Walker seemed to be present at almost every social event with this particular group as well. Little did I know my presence sparked a movement they had been waiting all night for, and we made our way out the door as I changed my shirt on the way out. We went up to a club that was situated on one of the city's highest hills, with a spectacular view of my new home. I arrived on Saturday, so the next day was a great day to get over my ''crudo'' and get to know my family a little better. I started meeting other students during our orientation the first day of school, as well as my teachers. English had become nonexistent and I was having some minor difficulty with the language as my Spanish and Portuguese were blending together, since I had been in Brasil the three weeks prior. I was a few weeks in and school was really starting to pick up. My Spanish class was difficult, as I had been placed in the 499 level, with some of the native speakers, and it was a struggle everyday. The others weren't as bad, but still required attention almost every night. The basis of study in my Cultura Mexicana class focused primarily on current or recent social issues within the country. Everything from Nueva Jeruselem to the Zapatista struggle in the heart of southern Mexico in the state of Chiapas. As a tourist, or taking even an extended vacation to another country, one learns some cultural customs, traditions, daily schedules, and even some of the language. However, there are things that exist that are invisible to the foreigner's eye, things that are visible only once you have truly lived in another country. At one point, you jump from the shores of comfort and reservation and begin swimming with the fish. During this time, you see the bottom, the top and everything inbetween, not just the surface. There exists an immense amount of poverty in Mexico, with little support or help from those with the ability to do so, but there also exists a number a wealthy Mexicans. Most commonly refered to as 'fresas' by the majority, the rich exists in large numbers in many of the major cities. In the capitol of the state of Michoacan, Morelia's nearly one million inhabitants are not familiar with a city's skyline, as the church remains the tallest edifice in the city, and there is actually a law protecting this. Point being that this city has very little industry, yet a plump handful of wealthy people driving around the latest luxury cars. Hmm where does the money come from then? Well, Michoacan is also the largest exporter of drugs to the United States, perhaps there is a correlation? Since I was attending a private university, many of the student with whom I studied were the sons and daughters of this elite class. In fact their exists in Mexico more millionaires per capita than anywhere in the world, aside from the U.S. I really enjoyed our excursions to some of the smaller towns around Morelia; Patzcuaro, Tzintzuntzan, Guanajuato, etc. We often visited lake Patzcuaro, a very large lake and center of sustainability for the dozens of indigenous communities thathave existed on the shores of the lake for centuries. From a moutaintop, one can view the lake in its entirety, and can actually witness the influences of modernization creeping into many of the villages of the Purepatchan people. Villages that have roads that connect to the larger towns have felt this more than the villages who still survive untouched, utterly inaccessable to motor vehicles. Many of the inhabitants only speak a little Spanish, as they continue to practice Purepatcha. Over the course of three months I developed relationships with people stronger than I ever imagined could be developed in such a short span of time. I spent much time with a couple, Sarah and Jersa. Sarah was an American who had moved to Morelia years ago, and married Jersa, who became one of my best friends. The relationship that existed between these two was truly inspiring, it was like watching ''Fools Rush In'' in real life. They battle things every marriage is confronted with, but also deal with their differences in culture, background, expectations, etc. However, within this home, a love exists that continues to squash even the most intense repugnances. Through this, they have created two beautiful children and a warm home. My friends that I met while there will always be near to my heart, and my experience will never be forgotten. I feel as if I learned more in that short span of 9 months while travelling, then I have since the beginning of secondary education. I have to say, I was not looking forward to returning home, and now that I have had a taste, I can't stop eating. I'm going to South America next month.
