My Grandpa and I left LAX approximately around 6:30am and we made one pit stop in Phoenix, AZ. In no time we found ourselves back on a plane but this time we were heading to our final destination, Puerto Vallarta, MX. We arrived in the early afternoon of July 2nd. The trip was smooth in general minus the fact that my guitar didn't show up in the luggage shoot. Una disculpa (an apology) from the staff workers and we were moving right along. I wonder what I'm going say to my family? This is exciting but admittedly, slightly awkward. I se
e all the people with anxious gazes. Which ones are my family members? Smiles...We were met with wide smiles and eager eyes and an indifferent little one occupied with her chupon (pacifier). There they were, my Tio Cristobal, Tia Petra and my little primas Karla and Daniela. After some abrazotes (hugs) and besitos (kisses), and a few mucho gusto (Good to meet you) greetings for good measure. I'm always so self-conscious about my Spanish when I'm around new people. We make it out to the the truck and cram in and we take off one piece of luggage lighter for Zancudo (Zancudos are pesky little mosquitoes that embark on recon missions in the night time and ambush you agressive attacks and by sun rise, there is not trace of them except for the aftermath which looks like bumps on your arms =) haha), a ranchito where my family resides about 30 minutes east of the coast and away from the tourist areas of Puerto Vallarta.
The view was amazing, although I can't say as much about the ride, which was rather stiff, perhaps to some extent painful. Despite this harsh (literally) truth, the tropical vivid green landscapes that filled the scenery sufficed to take my mind off how my rear-end was feeling or rather what it wasn't as I had began to lose sense of feeling there and other limbs. The pouring of rain that began along the way surprisingly gave the picturesque sights a more serene feel as the roads cleared and while animals has already sought refuge which left the views to stand alone.
The following days I spent hanging out with family, and once we passed all of the formal greetings, I got to know my little cousins better. We played soccer, went out to the mango orchard, saw their church, visited hot springs, went to the beach and I had the opportunity to sing worship songs with them and I got to learn a little more about their lives and what they do. Days were filled with work. Everyday, there was work to do but my family still made time to go to mass. The church was...well, it wasn't really anything physically speaking. It was a concrete slab with half-built brick walls around it and no roof. The altar
was placed in the back and there were some chairs. It wasn't exactly some type of pristine chapel or some "glorified" colonial structure. It was very raw and simple. Slightly disorganized and there wasn't exactly a set entrance or exit but still some order to it all I suppose. You could kind of enter from the wall of choice. However, there was something special about simplicity of it all. One doesn't stand in awe of structural design as much as they do in awe of God. No atmosphere created within the structure to help you imagine God in a set, "stereotypical" way. Just you and...well...God. This was easily one the most special moments for me.
Some of my female cousins worked in the tourist areas doing maintenance work at the hotels, while some of the younger ones bagged at a grocery store which is not uncommon in Mexico to see youth do such work. One of my little cousins told me that money she earns is off the tips. My male cousins mainly worked construction. One of them left his family in the state of Hidalgo for a few months to work and save money and then take it back to his family. He would do this every year for 2-3 months. Their lives were drastically different from the lives that my family members live in the U.S. and in many ways it was hard to see these realities. It was difficult to understand the sacrifices and struggles that they go through and even harder to accept. I did not, nor could I pretend that I could identify with their everyday challenges. I just stood frozen at everything before me, or at least it felt that way. Sadly, perhaps even pretentiously, I felt like I had to love out of obligation at first. My own family, yet like strangers I saw them.
Regardless of whether it was my first time meeting them. How pathetic that I could not see them and love them like my family, but yet I felt so loved by them from the moment that I met them. I replay the irony of this last statement, or perhaps it is not ironic at all. P
erhaps, it is the fact that I am so far removed from what it means to love and what it means to be in community and family. Perhaps, it is the fact that in the "world" I come from, the capitalistic, individualistic society of the U.S. has weakened the fiber of the family structure to the point that no matter how "close" I think my family is, it is still almost a process of resistance and struggle to maintain close relational ties. Or perhaps it's the fact that we're all so far removed from God's love. I myself, have constantly forgot God's love in my life. I had to question many times whether I really believed in God's "love" or is it something I just say because I'm "Christian". Another thought that crossed my my mind which I have always wrestled with is how come I can't just love like Jesus. To love freely. No barriers, to his love. Most people, including myself have all these inhibitions about love. As if love had prerequisites. As if there were formalities to approaching it all. Why can't I just see any one person, stranger, family, friend and feel at liberty about expressing love without questioning? On the contrary, how come it feels awkward to receive love from someone I don't necessarily know? It's almost a foreign concept. It is actually all a little frustrating but I feel this will be a question I will wrestle with more here in Mexico and more importantly, the implications of such a question will reveal much, I think, maybe I hope, about this odd thing called life. However, this is not the space to flesh out such things. Until next time. Peace!
