First off, why am I in Mexico? It's a perfectly appropriate question, one that I keep asking myself actually, and not in a bad way. I just cannot believe it sometimes; I think to myself "how the hell did I end up here?" Well...I met a Mexican girl, Norma, in Rajasthan, India (in Jaisalmer to be exact), we hung out for a few days, and nearly a year later I find myself reconnecting with her in Mexico! So basically, I knew nothing about this girl, yet decided to take her up on her offer to stay with her for two months in order to learn Spanish. I tell you, I chanced it and got lucky...
I happened to have arrived in Mexico just in time for Día de los Santos (All Saints' Day) on November 1st and Día de Muertos (Day of the Dead) on November 2nd. The biggest celebration is for Día de Muertos, and while Norma had to work that day (not common), her family did not. So I was left to celebrate all day with a huge family I had never met; not only had I never met them before, but I came to LEARN Spanish, meaning I couldn't understand them (and seeing as how Norma is the only one in her family who speaks English, they most definitely couldn't understand me). My attempt to introduce myself to her father, all five of her brothers and sisters, their respective husbands and wives and all their kids was dismal to say the least. An introvert by nature, I wanted to run and hide, lock myself in a room and bask in my solitude. But I did not. That would have been rude:) Ridiculously uncomfortable, I sat there, quiet, as they laughed and cooked and talked amongst themselves. They certainly tried to communicate with me, but blank stares, a smile and polite nod were common- I felt like an idiot.
Nevertheless, as the day went on, I could see how hard they were trying with me. I went with them to the cemetery to the grave of Norma's mother and watched as they cleaned the grave, laid out flowers, and celebrated to the music of a local norteño mariachi band. Some graves were covered with flowers or balloons, others had been turned into outrageous displays of skeletons and the like. It was interesting: in the states we celebrate life through BIRTHdays but neglect to celebrate life through any type of “death” day. I found it refreshing to see folks singing and dancing, drinking and relaxing, congregating and all-day-eating in memory of lives that once were...and what's more, is that they are truly happy doing it; it's not a sad day.
Later, everyone sat down to eat dinner. Norma had not returned yet, so again, it was me and the family. Except this time, I was beginning to relax; their joyous mood made it difficult to remain “ridiculously uncomfortable” as we began to laugh over the fact that communication was tough. Towards the end of dinner, Norma’s father let me know that I was now part of the family (yes, I understood that!), and before I knew it, he had become emotional while telling me that he wanted me to be happy while with them. I was shocked as he shed a tear…shocked and humbled. Such a sweet 70- year- old man! I just wish I could understand him better, if for anything, to show some respect. But he speaks so fast and almost seems to mumble his words…so, intimidated, I smile and nod- I hate that!
"Sometimes I miss a step,
I stumble here and there,
well I'm findin' my way home.
If I'm lost then I'll admit,
sometimes I plain forget
but I'm findin' my way home.
And you can try and stand in my way,
say what you gonna say,
but I'm findin' my way home."
-Citizen Cope
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