Though I knew it would be best for me, my social anxiety, and most importantly my spanish, the idea of living with a host family abroad terrified me. What if they didn’t like me? What if I couldn’t communicate with them? What if I accidentally broke something and they thought I was a horrible person? What if I didn’t like them?? Despite being able to recognize that my anxiety was responsible for the exaggerated stress associated with most of these questions, these worries flooded and overflowed my brain in the days leading up to my departure. I had been living independently for three years and the thought of returning to a familial household (and a completely unknown one at that) was less than thrilling. 

But here I am. Loving it. While I have certainly had challenging experiences (the mayonnaise pasta sandwich was a bit hard to get down) and difficult conversations (figuring out how to politely explain to my host mom that I I don’t really like mayonnaise, especially when it is the main filling of a sandwich) Doña Maria* and family have given me nothing but love and respect, treating me as one of their own for the past four months. 

(clockwise): Benjamin, his uncle, his aunt, his mom, me, Doña Maria.

My host mom is named Doña (a spanish title of respect for a woman) Maria (her first name) and has been hosting students for almost half her lifetime – nearly 30 years. I live with her, her grown daughter and 2-year-old grandson, Benjamin. They graciously cook me three vegetarian meals a day and I have my own bedroom and bathroom. 

Generally in Yucatan, lunch is the biggest meal of the day eaten in the early afternoon. When I return home from my morning classes, I usually eat with Doña Maria, Benjamin and Isabel (the housekeeper/nanny). Doña Maria’s daughter usually eats when she returns from work around 3:30pm. Dinner is very small and usually eaten solo. I often have leftovers from lunch or a bowl of cereal. I love to use this alone time to catch up on reading or call a friend from home. 

While I certainly miss cooking with friends and just having a space to watch tv and chill with people my own age, there is no doubt in my mind that I would sacrifice that again if it meant living with Doña Maria. Not only has my Spanish drastically improved thanks to our daily conversations (I never realized how hard laundry was to explain until I tried to do it in my non-native language), but I have had the privilege of expanding my family and being accepted into a new one. This newfound, love-filled support system is not something that I take lightly. 

*names have been changed to protect privacy

Doña Maria and Benjamin in his cocodrillo costume.

“Guanajuato quite literally changed my life. I am not afraid of over hyping it because it is literally impossible to do so. I can’t wait for it to change your life too.”

“Ok,” I responded, rolling my eyes and chuckling to myself as my friend recounted his high school high school trip to Guanajuato for the millionth time.

While I was beyond excited to spend a week of spring break in Guanajuato, Guanajuato, I could not imagine it would be life changing – at least not any more so than any other colonial town I visited in Mexico. Oh how wrong I was. 24 hours in and I resignedly sent a text to my friend who had already visited the town: “You were right – this place is ridiculously incredible. Wow.”

An old mining town west of Mexico City known for its colorful buildings, gorgeous views and winding cobblestone streets packed with cute cafes and an abundance of silver vendors, Guanajuato amazed me, just as it had my friend. My two best friends and I spent hours wondering through the markets full of silver jewelry mined in the region, admiring Semana Santa celebrations and drinking our weight in Beso Negros (a heavenly hot chocolate drink that is akin to drinking melted dark chocolate ganache). 

Isabel (left) and Madi (right) at a cafe right next to our AirBnB.

We visited during Semana Santa, the week preceding Easter that is filled with catholic festivals and celebrations remembering Jesus’ last days on earth. We arrived on Friday, Viernes de Dolores (translated to Friday of Sorrows) the first day of Semana Santa. El centro de Guanajuato (an easy 2 minute walk from our AirBnB) was overflowing with people young and old covered in rainbow confetti and flower crowns. Nearly everyone carried incredibly elaborate Easter baskets and stunning bouquets of crepe paper flowers. Madi, Isabel and I pushed our way through the crowds, mouths agape, in awe of the sheer amount of colors, sounds and smells overwhelming our senses. It was an incredible welcome to Guanajuato and a telling preface to what the week ahead would hold.

Easter egg baskets and their vendors were piled around el Centro.

That Sunday, we traveled to the neighboring town of San Miguel de Allende for Domingo de los Ramos (Palm Sunday) celebrations. San Miguel de Allende is home to an abundance of beautifully colorful churches including la Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel, a breathtaking Neo-Gothic church whose soaring pink spires are visible from nearly anywhere in the city. By the time we had trudged up the never-ending hill atop which the cathedral and main plaza are located, we were greeted by a marching band and following procession reenacting the arrival of Jesus to Jerusalem. Behind the ornately decorated band were six men carrying a large statue of Jesus rising in on a donkey followed by hundreds of people waving palm fronds and welcoming the messiah to their town. The colossal church bells were ringing high up on the spires and as the procession approached, fireworks shot up from behind the colonial building. I have never seen anything like it. 

Palm Sunday Procession

(from left to right): Madi, me and Isabel in front of the grand Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángel.

Not only did we enjoy Semana Santa celebrations, but we admired the abundance of murals and art pieces in San Miguel de Allende and Guanajuato, emptied our wallets at the mercados de arte and enjoyed a fabulous array of pastries, coffee and sandwiches. Guanajuato is a big university town, so we were surrounded by peers who inspired us to up our street-wear style and created an environment that catered perfectly to 20-year-olds. After seven glorious days, I was (still am?) just about ready to move there. 

Madi and me in front of one of the many street murals San Miguel de Allende is known for.

I am not only grateful to have experienced Guanajuato in all of its breathtaking glory, but to have had the opportunity to plan and execute this trip independently. My best friends and I worked together to coordinate the perfect vacation to a place we had never been and hardly knew anything about. It couldn’t have gone smoother. The city stole my heart and maybe it could yours as well. Who knows, maybe some of you all will be visiting me in Guanajuato in a few years.

Ode to los camiones 

Constantly changing routes 

Impossible to be late 

When there is no schedule

…to begin with

I know I’ve written better pieces, but I’ve also (probably – possibly) written worse. In all seriousness though, I am very grateful for the camiones (public transport buses) for getting me to school every morning and taking me around the city. Actually, let me revise. For eventually getting me to school most mornings and usually delivering me to el Centro, often with some fun and unexpected stops along the way. 

I am currently writing to you all from the back seat of the R2 bus, marinating in a pile of my own sweat. It’s currently 99F outside (my weather app says it feels like 102F) and I am the only person in sight who has not stifled themselves in a pair of thick denim jeans. Despite my airy romper, I can feel the river of sweat running down my back and collecting in a lovely puddle on the hard plastic seat I’ve been sitting on for too long. While the R2 usually takes me from the bus stop next to my house to the university in about 15 minutes, it seems as if today el camione was in a silly goofy mood that inspired a 45 minute addition to the route – because why not? I left the house at 2:10pm for my 3pm class, giving myself plenty of extra time to get to class, but it is now 3:04, now I’ve gotten a tour of half the city of Merida, class has started and I’m still in my same sweat puddle. 

Luckily, my professor was also running on “Mexican time,” so I was not the least bit late despite technically arriving 9 minutes after class had begun. My class was a success and I was fortunate to quickly catch a bus that happened to take a direct route home, making it to my next class on time. 

My view from the R2

Though it can be frustrating and exhausting trying to navigate the ever-changing bus “schedule,” I love it all the same. It has taught me to both improve my time management ability and learn to be more relaxed about timing and tardiness. I no longer freak out about being a few minutes late and am learning to enjoy myself when I arrive somewhere early. I am trying to reframe the way I think about time, choosing to be grateful for what I have instead of fixating on “wasting” or “losing” it. Though I know my professors in the US will be significantly less chill about me arriving 9 minutes late, I hope to be able to transfer pieces of my relaxed attitude surrounding productivity and time to the US.

Until next time! Hasta luego!

TW: non-graphic mention of sexual and gender-based violence

“Nothing is scarier to a sexist man than a woman without fear.”

When you google “Women’s Day Mexico,” one of the first headlines is: “Tens of thousands of women protest ‘femicide,’ gender based violence” (The Washington Post) whereas “Women’s Day USA,” brings up “Celebrating Women’s Day,” (US State Department). The difference between femicide and celebration is quite telling.

As International Women’s month comes to an end, I want to take a second to write about the powerful ways in which this holiday is acknowledged in Mérida, Mexico. I grew up in the United States knowing March 8th as the day in which we celebrate women’s achievements and tell the women in our lives how much they mean to us. While that certainly also happens here, Women’s Day in Mexico is not a celebratory event. It is a day of commemoration of all those oppressed by the patriarchy. It is a demand for revolutionary change. 

In Mexico, Women’s Day is a day of protests demanding an end to the endemic feminicide*, domestic and sexual abuse and violence against women and gender-oppressed people. During the peaceful protest the evening of March 8th, el Centro de Mérida was packed with predominantly young women and people dressed in green and purple** carrying spray paint, insisting immediate change be made for the rights of women in their country. 

Main statue in Parque Santa Ana coated in slogans and posters left by the march the previous day.

As the sea of green and purple began to dissipate, their presence certainly did not. Parks, squares and statues across el Centro were dripping with paint and posters demanding change. The slogans and posters sported a diverse array of material, some detailing womens’ personal experiences, many with inspirational phrases, and some calling out specific organizations and individuals for their sexism. Perpetrators’ names were scrawled across sidewalks, walls and benches. There was a line strung across the entirety of Parque Santa Ana holding posters of the faces and names of men who have committed gender-based violence, exposing them and their crimes to the world. 

I had never seen anything like it. Though I have attended many a political protest, never had I seen one so directly spotlighting the oppressors. It was powerful to see their names rewritten by women – scrawled across the city in vibrant purple and green spray paint, tainting the beautiful buildings and pristine imagen Mérida wants to be perceived as. The now green-and-purple-streaked Mérida is a reminder for us all to look within ourselves and examine the harmful roles we play in perpetuating oppressive systems and begin to take action to challenge our privilege and use it to dismantle all unjust systems. 

The famous “silla confidentes,” found around Mérida Centro smeared with purple handprints representing violence against women.

*femicide: femicide is a term combining the words “feminine” and “genocide,” used to describe the intentional murder of women and gender-oppressed people because of their gender. Feminists in Mexico were some of the first to adopt the term “feminicide,” in reference to the unconscionable murders of women in and girls in Ciudad Juarez, along the US/Mexico border.  

**The colors green and purple are now recognized as women’s empowerment colors internationally. They were originally given meaning by the British Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU), a militant wing of the British suffrage movement. The green represents hope and the purple signifies dignity and justice.

“Cass! Cass! I just bought my plane tickets. I’m coming to visit you next week!!”

“Next week, as in 5 days from now?!”

“Yeah! I’ll see you soon:))))”

This is the text chain between my best friend from high school and I days before she landed in the Meridian airport. Though surprised, I could not have been happier to receive Rachel’s text. Besides it being wonderful to reconnect, Rachel’s impromptu visit allowed me to play tour guide, forcing me to reflect on my favorite experiences in Mérida and figure out how many of those I could squeeze into our two days together.

Rachel at her hostel

Without a question, priority number one was that Rachel meet my friends here. The other IFSA students have made my time in Merida the amazing experience it has been. They have quite literally provided shoulders to cry on, hands to hold and smiles to laugh with. My friends have been by my side to initiate, witness and encourage all the incredible adventures and shenanigans that I have been lucky enough to experience so far. 

So, like the good gringos we are, I recruited a bunch of IFSA friends for a fabulous beach day just 30 minutes outside of Merida. We spent the day chicken fighting in the water, reapplying sunscreen too infrequently, building sand castles like the children we are, and eating our weight in Mexican Cheetos – significantly better than the US version.

Rachel and I spent the following day walking around el Centro, checking out art galleries, cafes and enjoying the vibrant contrasting colors that make up the houses and buildings of Mérida. We walked around Paseo de Montejo, (a breathtaking avenue modeled after Paris’ Champs Elysees), admired the remaining posters and banners from the International Women’s day protest the day before and soaked in the (slightly too hot) Mérida sun.

A beautiful antique shop Rachel and I stumbled upon in el Centro. (Photo credits Rachel Nguyen)

While the brilliant buildings and incredible food have become quotidian to me, Rachel’s awe with the city reminded me how lucky I am to be in this tropical paradise, surrounding by wonderful people, for the semester.

As I scrolled through Instagram pictures of my friends shivering through their multi-layered down puffer jackets in front of European monarchical buildings I beamed at the brilliant blue cenote shimmering in front of me. While my friends studying abroad in Europe were spending thirty US dollars for an (admittedly top-notch) plate of fettuccine alfredo and a glass of wine (legal drinking age of 18 whoop whoop!) I spent the same amount to get escorted to no less than three cenotes, enjoyed a wonderful taco lunch and the best cream ice cream I had ever tasted. Suffice to say, I was very content with my choice of study abroad locations. 

Cenotes (say-NOTE-teh) – derived from the Mayan word ts’onot – are natural holes/craters in the earth’s surface that have filled with groundwater. For many Mayan nations, cenotes served as the main source of water for thousands of years. Cenotes vary in depth and size, many reaching as far as 350 feet deep. They are one of the main tourist attractions of the area – and for a good reason – it is estimated that nearly 90% of the world’s cenotes are located in the state of Yucatán, Mexico. Though I do not understand the specific geology of cenote formation, the conditions for formation were made possible by the meteor that wiped out the dinosaurs and is hypothesized to have landed right around Mérida. As I understand it, the meteor was so powerful that when it collided with the earth’s surface it created a ripple effect much like that of a rock thrown into a pond. This created conditions in which cenotes would form in nearly a perfect circle around the Yucatanian peninsula – where I was lucky enough to be able to spend my semester. 

I had high expectations for the cenotes. I absolutely love to swim – especially in lakes and ponds and other natural bodies of water – and the pictures that I had spent slightly-too-long googling of cenotes were truly breathtaking. All that being said, nothing could prepare me for the lived experience of diving into the transparent, infinitely deep water surrounded by shimmering stalactites. 

The first cenote I visited is located near Chichen Itza, a world-renowned Mayan archeological site. Yokdzonot is an open air cenote estimated to be at least 100 feet deep. It’s too deep to see the bottom, but the water is so clean and clear that you can follow a sinking object with your eyes for minutes. Due to scientific reasons which I do not understand, the water is bioluminescent, so as you paddle throughout the little hollowed caverns around the edge of the cenote, a blue glow illuminates your skin and the faces of all those around you. It truly felt magical.

Open-air Yokdzonot cenote located near Chichen Itza

A weekend later a few friends and I traveled to the neighboring town of Valladolid, a touristy colonial city about two hours outside of Mérida known for its proximity to many world-renowned cenotes. In Valladolid I explored my first ever underground cenote and the experience was astonishing. All the cenotes we visited are closely monitored and set up for visitors from around the world. Each cenote was entered by descending a steep and narrow stone staircase that eventually opened up to a massive cavern covered in stalactites and the gleaming cenote in the middle. Many also had a small hole in the top through which sunlight streamed through creating a semi-celestial image. 

Suyten cenote in Valladolid

I could spend hours describing the otherworldly beauty of cenotes I have explored and those I hope to visit, but for your sake and mine I am going to wrap it up here. I will be sure to keep you all updated on my other adventures water-related and not during my remaining four months. Thanks for reading, I’m sending you all some sunny warmth from Mérida. ¡Nos vemos más tarde!

Hi folks! It’s January 17th, 2022 and I’m writing to you all from the tiled back porch of my host family’s house, looking out on their expired Christmas decorations that seem quite out-of-place next to the all palm trees. I’ve barely been in Mérida, México for two weeks now, but it feels like a lifetime. The past 14 days have been filled with multiple trips to the beach (about 30 minutes away), my host brother’s 2-year-old birthday party and a live music performance in El Centro for MéridaFest. I dive into bed every night lulled to sleep by pure exhaustion and the ceiling fan whirring above my head in a feeble attempt to fight the oppressive heat.

La Playa

Like most gringos in the Yucatán (the name of the state where Mérida is located), my friends’ and my first destination was la Playa Progreso (Progreso Beach). The beach is located about thirty minutes outside of the city of Mérida via Uber or about an hour on the public bus. In order to maximize our beach-time and minimize COVID exposures, we threw on our masks, squeezed into a few Ubers (in which the windows were kept down despite going 70mph speed limit) and headed to Progreso. Below is a picture of some of my classmates and myself in front of the touristy “Yucatán” sign.*

La Biciruta

The following weekend, IFSA arranged a bike ride for us through the central part of Mérida. Every Sunday from 8am-12pm the city of Mérida closes down the main road – Paseo de Montejo – and opens it to pedestrians, bikers, roller skaters, skateboards and just about any other non-motorized being or object. La biciruta was an amazing way to see the city and chat with friends without any concern for traffic.*

La Escuela

All schools in Mérida (preschool – university) are currently online for the first few weeks of January and will (hopefully) transition to in-person at the end of January. I am taking classes at the IFSA center (only for study abroad students), UADY (the public university in Mérida) and Modelo (the private university Mérida). Although it has been a bit chaotic figuring out my classes at 3 different universities, the IFSA staff has been incredibly supportive throughout the process and complaining with friends over ice cream has helped to ease the stress significantly. I am excited to meet my professors and classmates in-person and continue to figure out the school system. I know that as the weeks go on, my schedule will settle out, my friends and I will find something new to lament about over ice cream and I will start to get used to the heat. Well, maybe not that last one. I hope all you Walla Wallians are enjoying the freezing fog, I’m sending some sunny from Mérida. ¡Hasta luego!

*Although both the pictures included in the post happen to feature a cloudy sky, I think that these have been the only two instances in my entire time here in which the sun has not engulfed the entire city