This one goes out to the homies...

Year’s windin’ down. People have started heading home. Our little study abroad family’s breaking apart.

When I look back at Mexico, I’m not going to think about the museums or the parks. I doubt I’ll remember much about the beaches or churches. But I could never forget Sunday mornings, sitting on the makeshift floor-bed, watching Jamie Oliver with Alisa. Ordering late-night cheesey popper pizza with Kevin and Anthony. Joe’s debates and Beau showing up weekly with Indio and a few more centimeters of mustache.

The people that come to Mexico aren’t your average “study abroad” kids. We’re a different breed. We’re weird. We didn’t do the usual, “I want to go abroad. Maybe I’ll go to Paris because it’s pretty, and I like the food.” When we told people we wanted to study here, we were greeted with a lot of blank stares and, “…But, why?”s. We didn’t go to Mexico to escape our American reality, have a vacation, or realize some fantasy of mystic exoticism in a foreign land.

We came here to better comprehend our reality. To learn, to understand a shared history. Some came to get in touch with their own Mexican culture, and others went to gain a better awareness of the neighbors who define our future as much as we do theirs. From the first day, we’ve grown together. A rag, tag group of open minds soaking up every experience that came our way. We’ve lived every second to the fullest. Even our downtimes have been filled with discussion, debate, fascination, and fun. So, here’s to the good times and the better times. Let’s relive a few, shall we?


-Toma todo, Footie pajamas, Nutty Professor, Lord Rara, Police run-ins, laced mezcal at La Bipo, Hey Mickey at Living, the Burger King in Zona Rosa, the Burger King on Copilco, club on top of the Burger King in Cuernavaca, douchey model guy, daggering, Skybar incest, waterpark cave drinking and lip busting, sale-vale, Jessica-Handsy-Hom, Pinche Steve/Shifty-eyed Steve, Buttshow Joe/(and the well-earned) Ballshow Joe, Double Down, Double Dicks, Tigger, Wild Turkey, island rooftop wave, bottles breaking on Beau, Joe’s tabletop dancing, free jager for Marina and me, ordering “botas”, discounts for Kate’s jetski death, Eva’s stanky leg, many fatty nights, Anthony’s moonwalk, backpack guy, Kevin’s stories, taking moments, Ron’s rave dancing, Alisa’s cigarette burns, violent drelanie, Suleika’s salsa, Harry Pottery, Puebla Martin, el Duende, the laundry room, and…. of course: the Acapulco Underwear Incident.-


So, in conclusion, we are an awesome group of hilarious people. The highs and the lows, every second was worth it and I couldn’t imagine a better group with which to share these memories. As we depart with smog in our lungs, fat in our hips, and tears in our eyes, the planes will be weighed down with the heaviness of our hearts.

Thanks for the laughs. All 6 months of them.

Nos vemos pronto.

Not interested.

At first it was odd, but kind of funny. Then, it was like an uncomfortable ego-boost. It quickly became irritating and evolved into insulting. Now, it just fills me with seething anger. I can feel this sense of repulsion bubbling in my stomach every time I accidentally make eye contact, and await mental disrobing by some 40-something man who lacks that good, old, puritanical, American sense of shame that I've really grown to miss.

I can deal with the stares, though. I'm used to it. Plus, I'm white. I'd stare, too. In fact, I generally do, while thinking, "Hey! Another cracker! Where could this honkie be from?" I guess now, it's the noises that get to me. No, you know what? I can deal with that, too. The worst of all, is the thing that a lot of Americans would probably find the most respectable. Not the gawking, not the catcalls... the conversation.

It's actually when people talk to me. Men using the little English they learned in high school language classes, assuming that my genitals will undoubtedly erupt in fiery, erotic lust at their broken interpretation of my native tongue. How could I POSSIBLY resist such confidence? They're so right. Nothing makes me want to jump on a complete stranger's tiny cock like the gross sense of entitlement that convinces this presumptuous fuckface that he merits, no, deserves to have his macho Mexican way with me.

Yes, I'm young and foreign. Yes, I'm vulnerable, frightened, and uncomfortable in this new environment.

But hear me, you pathetic excuse for the generic, pseudo-masculine, excrement of our sexist society: I am NOT letting you take advantage of my naivety by lowering my guard long enough to let in your sad, perpetually-rejected penis.

So, please. Stop staring. Stop yelling and making noises and honking. Stop bothering me while I eat breakfast. Don't follow me on my way home. If you can't get girls from your own country, why would you have more of a chance with an attractive, American chick half your age?

Just so we're all on the same page here:

Nunca te voy a dar mi numero. Nunca voy a salir contigo. Y, por el valor que me da la inteligencia, por el respeto que tengo por mi cuerpo, y por mi dignidad como mujer: NUNCA te voy a coger. Ahora, dejame en paz...cabron.


I'm. Not. Interested.


P.S. In case you're thinking I might be overreacting, just imagine some cocky white guy sitting next to a Mexican chick at your college dining hall. Imagine him saying, "Hey, gorgeous. Look, I'm gonna teach you all about American culture. Why don't you go ahead and give me your number, and I'll show you around the city, sound good? I'll even let you come back to my place and practice your English with me over dinner." Now what would be the girl's proper reaction to such a condescending form of objectification? Swift kick in the balls? Agreed, but you know what I do? I uncomfortably smile and say "Thank you, but I'm meeting someone" or "I have a boyfriend, but thanks anyway." Then I eventually have to leave, or walk the other way, or pretend to answer my phone because they don't take no for an answer. It makes you feel powerless, and stupid, and weak. It also makes you question your self-worth, like, "Why is he so certain that I have low enough standards to go off with some stranger? What's wrong with ME, that would make him think I don't have enough value to reject his advances?"

NOW try to tell me this rant is harsh.

There are some things I'm excited to leave in Mexico.