Tag: world travel

Moving Past Pablo

I try to imagine how it would feel. If every vacationer I encountered in United States asked me about September 11, police brutality and heroine – I’m sure I’d lose it.

Unfortunately, the fairytale landscape, surplus of beautiful cafes, and rainforest relaxation vibe aren’t the first things people think of when they think of Medellin, Colombia and it’s truly a shame.

The list of present-day accomplishments for this vibrant city are endless. You’d have to list the inexpensive, high-quality produce, intriguing architecture and incredibly kind inhabitants. You’d mention the accessibility to the countryside, impeccable parks and an incredibly efficient and clean metro system. Tree-lined streets usher you to picturesque eateries, none of which lack a bounty of fresh juices made from the dozen of Colombian-exclusive fruits. Pablo Escobar’s name is not spoken, as appropriate for any drug lord that terrorized a state for more than a decade. He is not celebrated, he is not cool, and every war-themed tour or idealization of the greatest drug war in history is a blow to every Colombian and every world citizen that believes in validating the human experience.

Every friend and every family member has made comments about me traveling to Colombia, as if I’d be inducted into some secret world of police murder and cocaine trafficking. The stereotypes are strong but nothing screams love and peace like this group of arepa-loving, God-fearing sweethearts who love their families immensely and never get frustrated when I speak to them in Spanglish.

A poverty-raveged district have given themselves a new name by marketing their community as the city’s street art capital while another historically oppressed area has made a home from the remains of a enormous and contaminated landfill, their safest option during the height of the war. There is no way to tell all the stories of resilience and inventiveness, but certainly we all can at least behave like they exist. We can empathize with the pain of the Colombian people and not engage in the fantasization of a national tragedy, one thats effects still ring loudly.

Every murder of Colombian police officers is just as disgusting as the execution of the officers during the Dallas protests. Every guerrilla recruitment of young boys – elementary age – is just as heinous as the daily recruitment of children in the U.S. into the drug and sex trafficking trades. Use your own at-home experiences to better connect you with people around the world. That could be through great tribulation or an enormous success –whatever it is, do what you need to do to not be a complete dick. Compassion is the start.

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Mexico, the great

Before the sun is high the beat begins to build. Dogs bark with aggression, the garbage man rings his bell. Over and over. The moan of a woman’s voice repeats on a loud speaker. She asks for old washing machines and computers. Another man, pushing a cart, temps me with tamales and other treats. The street sweepers sweep, the chamen make their daily calls. Mexico City. Ciudad de Mexico. CDMX. Distrito Federal. It was home.

In a few days my group will say goodbye to Mexico City and the life we built here. I’ve felt it such an honor to spend more time with the Mexican people, learn about the things that are important to them and the hopes they have for the future. They are a culture of hospitality, offering their resources to help you and most importantly, their time. They are a hard-working people. I genuinely believe that each person I see is working hard to provide for their families. Their intentions are pure. They are a resilient people. No matter what is said about them, they are kind to all and go above and beyond to help those visiting their country.

There is an obvious appreciation and patience for people who have come into their country and are attempting to speak their language. They repeat words, they slow down, they smile. I wish people in the U.S. were that patient as people make a huge life change, move to a new country and attempt to live, work and operate like everyone else. And just like every immigrant to ever come into the U.S., I, at any given time in Mexico, am trying. I’m trying to speak Spanish and my efforts are acknowledged daily.

Their historical and incredible love and focus on family makes Mexico a place that strives on community. The love for other humans is incredible and that love prompts an acceptance for the gay and trans communities. Marriage is a right that is open to everybody here.

During my time in CDMX, men have been gentlemen in every sense of the word and the city’s dogs are the most well-behaved animals I’ve ever seen. Healthy foods are affordable here and drive-thrus are non-existent. It’s a good place and I’ve learned more every day.

There is something sobering about being in Mexico during the inauguration of a bigot extremist. As many of my hopes and dreams turned to dust, I know some of theirs did too. The U.S. is such a beacon of possibility for so many and now what will it be? I think the Mexican people’s hearts break with ours. Many in the states have talked about them like dogs, criticized their values and ways of life, and mistreated them to no end and their hearts still break with ours. That’s God. That’s compassion and perhaps the biggest lesson I learned here. No matter what the political climate, compassion for all of humanity is essential and the Mexican people have figured that out in the face of so much adversity. Screw the wall. I want to live the Mexican way.

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