So far, my story can be easily compared to an elastic band. The days before I was due to leave for Mexico City were spent frantically trying to cram every member of my family and every friend into a tight and uncomfortable schedule. The nights before my departure were spent staring at the ceiling and trying to slow down my heart-rate. Was it all going to be worth it?
Fever woke me up at around 4am. I was cold, sweaty and hallucinating. It was the third time that week that I had slept in my mum’s bed; it reminded me of when I used to sleep in her bed when I was ill in primary school. But this time would be the last: my next slumber stop was thousands of miles away across the Atlantic Ocean. I had been stretched and pulled back into my childhood, I desperately wanted to be mothered and told what to do, knowing that responsibility and off the scale independence was looming. The elastic band was almost ready for snapping.
And suddenly, at 7am on July 8th, I was catapulted by the metaphorical elastic band towards Mexico City and I couldn’t stop it, it happened quickly and, as I made my way towards my hostel in the taxi, I stared out of the window with actual disbelief. I was here. I was actually here. In Mexico. Actual, real, proper Mexico.
It took about a week for me to stop acting like a paranoid psychopath. Everyone was a murderer, mugger, con artist, rapist, ex-convict….obviously. Once I had learned the skill of calming down everything was much easier. Now that my eyes weren’t accusing the general public of various crimes I could look around and let my eyes soak up the visual treats the city had in store. The feeling can only be likened to wearing a tight woolly jumper on a hot day, and then sighing as you take off the jumper and let the breeze caress your armpits and your back. You know the feeling- it’s bliss.
From then on it was full throttle. I travelled around Mexico for two weeks climbing Zapotec, Aztec, Teotihuacan and Mayan ruins, snorkelling, visiting churches and textile markets, watching wrestling matches, getting sunburnt, trying Mezcal (tequilas little sister) and doing all the things that I’d been waiting to do for the past three or four years. And this was only the beginning…