Final Day in Mexico

                Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am the kind of person who is always excited to go on to the next thing. Summer vacation is great, but after three months I’m ready to quit my job(s) and get back into school mode. Equally, at finals time, I’m just happy for the classes to be over, regardless of what my final grade ends up being.  Even little things like stop lights- my mom says I like to “hurry up and wait.”

                After five weeks in Merida, I was ready to go onto Kiuic. After Kiuic, I was ready to jump ship and enjoy my Spring Break. After what seemed like a month in La Selva, I was ready to get back to civilization. While I surprisingly miss Ursinus showers and even Wismer, not to mention all of the important people in my life I have had infrequent or no contact with during this trip, I’m not ready to go back yet. What do you mean I only get to spend three weeks in San Cristobol, with an amazing, accommodating host family, and most of if it, if not all of it somedays, is spent reading for Evolution? I’ll be the last to complain about the class- I love evolution. It’s a top two concept for me, right up there with multivariable calculus. However, I really wish I could have taken my host family up on more offers to explore the city, visit some cultural places or just hang out and talk when I wasn’t preoccupied with reading. To go out, regardless of how boring I find dancing, with my Ursinus classmates, might have been nice once in awhile as well. But, time flew and now time is up, not just in San Cristobol, but in Mexico as well.

                I have to say I’m not ready to go home. I am not excited to hurry up and get to Ursinus, go to my formal, hurry up and go hang out with my dad for my birthday, then hurry up and go home so I can get a job and starting sorting out the details of the next four months of my life. It’s not that I dread these things, I just feel like there is more here to see and discover. I never did get to have a solid conversation with a Zapatista- that kid at the market gave me the cold shoulder when it occurred to him that I wasn’t going on a date with him.