One Year In Mexico

April 17th marked one year of us living here in Mexico.
That special day came and went almost a month ago, and I've had a blog post brewing in my mind, but have had difficulty making myself sit down and write any reflections. The reality is, here at the one year mark, life in Mexico looks and feels pretty "normal" for us.

Things that once seemed insurmountable, now are pretty routine:

-Running errands around town is relatively easy. Some days include trips to our gluten free bakery, the grocery store, a fruit stand and the meat store. I can navigate all these places without frustration and can drive the routes without near panic attacks. 

-We can talk with cashiers, order food at a restaurant, and read food labels all in Spanish.

-Driving has become more manageable. We have learned to expect, and embrace unexpected behavior from cars around us at all times.  

There are still things about this culture that totally drive us crazy:

-Why is it that everyone drives around like madmen, but then check-out lines at tiendas can move at the snails pace? I can't understand why such a laid-back culture turns crazy at the wheel.

-The fluctuation of products: it seems as soon as I get used to one product at a store, it's gone. I've learned to stock up. Case in point: I just bought two 20 pound bags of Jasmine rice from Costco...probably at least a six months supply for our family. That may seem extreme, but chances are, that kind of rice will disappear from the store soon and never return. 

-The lack of communication between school and family. In fact, the lack of interaction between school and family is one of the hardest things for me to accept. No parents helping in the classroom, rare sightings of any classroom work they participate in, never invited to assemblies or events...this is all very hard for me to swallow!
-The discrepancy between the upper and lower classes.
-Ben coined the phrase, "The law of 80 percent," to describe any work done here in Mexico (especially construction work). Our apartment is the perfect example of that: we have rooms that still don't have outlet covers on the electrical. They probably never will. Our guest bathroom was not constructed correctly, so the shower smells due to a lack of drain trap (we think?). Outside our apartment roads are sometimes so bumpy that it feels like you're in a war-zone, electrical lines are wrapped haphazardly around poles or even trees sometimes, and sidewalks (if they exist) are so inconsistent that you can't push a stroller or ride a bike on them. 

There are so many things we truly love and will later miss about living in Mexico:

-The focus on relationships. Slowly but surely, we are learning to savor long, friend-filled days with no agenda, no time limit, no idea when it will end. 

-The access to fantastic food like cochinita pibil, chilaquiles, tacos al pastor...we love the food here!

-Cheap labor for so many things: men that work in parking garages that will wash your car for 80 pesos, an entire shop dedicated to watch repair that changed the battery on Ben's watch and fixed the clasp on Sam's watch for a whopping 120 pesos, a maid that helps me twice a week for 350 pesos, a mechanic that will pick-up, fix, and bring your car back for under one hundred American dollars, and a babysitter for 100 pesos an hour. 

-The mountains that are always looming all around us. We live in a beautiful city. 

If you ask me whether I'm glad that we moved here to Mexico, I'll tell you, "One-hundred percent yes!" Living in a foreign country has really began to shape me and change my perspective on life and the world.  

I think a lot more about the world beyond American borders. 

    I'm not just talking about Mexico (although we have learned a lot about it, of course). I also now have lots of curiosity about the countries that our many foreign friends live in. I wonder what it's like to live in a South American country like Chile. Is Chile a democracy? Did you know that Santiago, Chile has a similar climate and ecosystem as Portland, Oregon? That they also have cherry blossoms and grow a lot of the world's wine?

    I have a new friend from Colombia; her home is decorated in the most beautiful, bright-colored Colombian art. When I first talked with her about her country, I thought: isn't Colombia unsafe? Could we travel there? Could you raise a family there? What's it like to live so close to the equator?

    Realizing how woefully ignorant I am about these countries, I want to learn more. I feel this way about places all over the world now. I want to hear from my friends Mariya (from the Ukraine) and Sonia (from Slovakia) how it was to grow up in a Communist country. I want my friend Cassie, from Northern Ireland, to tell me more about the state-ran health care system there. I feel like my eyes have been opened to the world outside of America...and I love it!

I think a lot more about what it means to be a foreigner. 

It's hard to look different from everyone. I often wonder if I'm being treated a certain way (whether good or bad) because of the way I look. When our family enters a restaurant or store, I know that people notice us for how we look. Sometimes it means that cashiers are fawning over the boys' blue eyes and blonde hair, or sometimes it means that the boys are being bullied at school. A lot of times it means that I don't know what to do in situation and don't know how to ask for help. When we return to America, I have a feeling that I may end up working with foreigners or immigrants; this experience has changed my heart towards those who are outsiders in a country and I want to help them!

I have a much higher tolerance for crazy. 

I found a pharmacy here that can order in my thyroid medicine (sometimes it's difficult to get American brand medicine here). The downside of this pharmacy, however, is that it is located in an old plaza with literally the craziest parking lot imaginable. Thankfully the parking lot has an attendant working there to help the cars get in and out of spaces...which is much needed because there are so many cars crammed into a small lot that it is literally like a jigsaw puzzle when someone leaves. One truck has to move forward, another car backs out and waits for the next car to also back out. Something like this would have stressed me out to no end a year ago, but now it just makes me laugh. I played my piece of the puzzle: backing up when needed, waiting for another car, pulling forward a little, holding my breath hoping a truck wouldn't hit me...and eventually left the parking lot unharmed. 

Much of the "crazy" comes in the form of driving, but other things feel a bit like psychological warfare: the gas station where I always use my American credit card at no longer accepts it, the method which I pay the boys' school tuition suddenly doesn't work, the store that I always go to on a certain day randomly isn't open, and always (always!) things don't work correctly with our Mexican bank account. Sometimes you just have to laugh so that you don't cry!

I have done things I never thought it could do. 

Most these things have to do with driving: I fit in small parking spaces, I back-out long distances, I cross four lanes of busy traffic and aggressively make my way across town. I navigate through multiple-lane roundabouts that still scare me. I also consistently conquer social awkwardness and fears, all in a second language that I still really struggle to communicate in. Living here has taught me that I'm more competent than I ever thought, more courageous than I ever needed to be, and definitely more adventurous than meets the eye.

I care less about the details because I know that I can't control them.

Perhaps I should have known this before (that I can't control everything), but living in a foreign country sure has demonstrated to me the quote, "Don't sweat the small stuff." In fact, I think that when you're in a different culture, you just don't have the capacity to micromanage. Much (or all) of your energy is simply spent on survival: physical, mental and emotional. I've really noticed this as we pack to go on vacations; I used to plan out every detail, making meticulous lists in hopes of forgetting nothing. Now, I feel like if we get our passports, a change of clothes, and a few pairs of underwear each, packing has been successful. I'm much more comfortable with hazy plans and winging it when needed. 

Finally, I have wrestled with the concept of "home" and came to this conclusion:

Home is where ever God has placed our family. 

I struggled a lot with the concept of home when we initially moved. Would I feel like a traitor if I called Mexico "home?" Could I have two homes: Portland and Mexico? Even now, I say that we're traveling home when we go to Portland, but then when it's time to return to Mexico, I say that we're going back home. Confusing, right? 

I now think that home is wherever all our family is together, where we are comfortable and at ease, and right where God has us.