4-Year Mexican Degree

I like to keep my posts short and simple. So if I were to summarize my entire 4+ years in Mexico I would say I got my “how to be a Mexican” degree. Like a college degree, it goes by fast and regardless of what that stupid diploma says, it’s hard to explain what you learned in your studies. You accumulate experiences that remind you of how insignificant you are in relation to the rest of the world and so you either follow others’ paths, let the world take you where it needs to, or create your own path of adventure and babosadas. I like the mix of all three.

Did I really learn how to be a true Mexican? Damn straight! Do I behave like one? It depends on who you ask. You see, being Mexican in the US is completely different than being Mexican in Mexico. So right now, according to all my compatriotas in the US, I poop verde, blanco y rojo. In Mexico, my loyalties tended to be questioned by my peers because of my inability to fully strip away anything about me that reminded them of gringolandia. Impossible to do. But that was just my peer group. There were many older open-minded Mexicans of different walks of life that engaged in interesting dialogue with me, appreciated my decision to re-immerse back into Mexico, and ultimately would straight up tell me that I didn’t belong there. Ni modo, no hubo de otra. “El hombre de la mascara” as they would call me, was there to stay 🙂

I originally wanted to just be there 2 years, but ended up being there an extra 2+. Like any college degree, by the end you just wanna get the hell out. I do miss Mexico, but I don’t miss the telenovela lifestyle that goes on day in and day out. It’s good to be back and will never forget where I came from, what I’ve become, and what I want to be.

[insert fart sound here… what? did you expect a corny ass ending to this post? Vete a la chinga…]

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