I left the U.S. feeling all types of mush I didn’t expect. I had the most amazing life waiting for me on the other side of a TSA line but for the 72 hours before all I could think about was my crappy but existent health care coverage in the states, my mother’s hugs and my family dog. All are really great but not enough to stay. So why was I so sad?
I knew 1000% that when I came back I would not be the same. There was no possible way that the same Joi would reappear in the Dallas airport, making her way through crowds and garland and country-themed Christmas tracks to greet her family. It was impossible. So for the days before leaving I had to morn myself: impulsive, distracted, pushover me. I had to sit with her insecurities and hurt and disappointments, thank them for their lessons and throw them away with my water bottle at security.
It felt big, it felt scary…it felt like a relief!
I was paralyzed the first leg of the trip, sleepy and weary from a night of last-minute packing. I walked off the first plane to find my friend, and travel companion, seated in the gate ahead and I realized I wasn’t the only one leaving everything. I wasn’t the only one risking it all. Some weird ‘anxiety loves company’ calm came over me. It would be okay and then some.
The first couple of weeks have been exhausting. As a self-proclaimed extrovert I didn’t think I’d have trouble meeting 80-something people and getting to know them but it’s been the biggest challenge. The barrage of activities and meet-ups hit me hard, along with southern Mexico’s high altitude unique cuisine. A box of Hooter’s wings while watching Modern Family reruns felt like a spa day. In this unsettling lifestyle I was going to have to find moments that felt like home. Home was now everywhere my body was and I had to embrace that.
I live in a spacious two bedroom with my bff. Outside of two sets of couples, we’re the only ones who knew each other before this trip and everyone seems to think that’s really cool. We have a stained glass window in our bathroom and a TV that lets us watch E! in Spanish. My room gets tons of light through these two giant windows that open up into a balcony. My neighborhood is filled with cafes and restaurants and particularly this churro shop that sells Nutella-filled churros for like the equivalent of two U.S. dollars. I was sold apple-scented toilet paper the other day and got asked to be photographed by a sweet man at the local taco shop who made me the best chorizo. Our co-working space is amazing, with a beautiful yellow-tiled terrance and a rooftop that swirls Mexico City right around you. My Remote Year cohorts are kind and generous and they think all the stuff I got made fun of at home are the most amazing things. There are well-behaved dogs everywhere. And I mean everywhere. My Spanish is improving and it hasn’t rained once. I am so blessed.
I’ve never felt more like myself. I’ve never felt more interesting and revolutionary and brave. So for all of you that I haven’t talked to, know I’m okay. I’m always gonna be okay.
Gone Girl Travels 