It's funny how I still recall the first restroom I used on foreign soil in the Mexico City airport. It's even funnier to realize one of the hardest things to get re-accustomed to after returning to the United States is the convenience of actually being able to flush my used paper in the toilet instead of putting it in a trash can.
And did you ever realize just how much of a convenience using the sink to brush your teeth really is? It might take weeks for the fear of water to completely dissipate from my daily routine.
Furthermore, I recall a comment one of the guys in the study abroad group made as we stepped off the airplane and, for the first time in three months, entered a building on American soil - "Where's the color?"
In my first 24 hours back in the United States, I expected to come across difficulties in re-adaptation to my usual mannerisms. However, the monotony of beiges, browns and burgundies in the U.S. airport disappointed me after having lived in a vibrantly painted world for a quarter of a year. Here, anyone would - quite frankly - be ridiculed for having a bright blue or yellow house; in Mexico, a lot of times, a screaming coat of color is the norm.
But the color doesn't stop at things that are painted - the Mexican culture is full of color both concretely and figuratively, in its food, language, people and overall way of life.
A general consensus among the members of our study abroad group was that the idea can be summed up in a simple phrase: Mexicans work to play, but Americans work to work.
Even in one of the poorest pueblos I visited in Santa Fe de la Laguna, Mexico, which has a largely concentrated purepecha (indigenous) population, the women prepare kilos of fish for a fiesta every Friday.
And there is the phenomenon that caused its share of annoyance at the same time it put a smile on my face: Many stores actually close for their employees to eat la comida (the main meal of the day) around 2 p.m. It is a common occurrence for people to leave work and come home to eat instead of hitting up the nearest McDonald's or leaving crumbs on the computer keyboard they haven't taken their hands away from since their 8 a.m. cups of coffee.
I re-faced the reality of the American drive for work as I ate in a Kentucky Fried Chicken in Cincinnati. Here, a group of co-workers sat eating a meal when a man in a collared shirt - I assume he was a boss of some kind - came to their table. With an urgent voice, he ushered the team out of the restaurant while steam rolled off the plate of food one of the men had only minutes ago received.
Being back in the United States, I have also found a greater appreciation for the gift of breathing clean air and having a hot shower. From the pollution in the air and water to the pollution in the government, Mexico is seen by some as sharing characteristics with a Third World country.
I lived in a wealthy part of Morelia, and therefore I lived comfortably. However, I also traveled to the smaller and dirtier pueblos, so I learned the high costs of utilities and became aware of the number of people who can hardly afford food every day.
In my travels among the poorest and richest of the beautiful mountainous regions of our country's southern neighbor, not all of the observations I made were necessarily true for all of Mexico or for all Mexicans.
Still, in the eyes of an innocent traveler, many of these observations can seem more true than even the Mexican population might realize.
Write to Michelle at mllong2@bsu.edu
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