México, por fin

¡Buenas tardes de Oaxaca! I just finished my first academic week in this lively, colonial city, after (one week ago) successfully navigating the border from Guatemala without losing my passport or contracting malaria. ¡Hooray!
It it nice to be living in a house again, not having to repack my mochila daily or consult my travel guides. The house is just a few blocks northeast of the Instituto Cultural de Oaxaca, a privately owned and beautifully-maintained language and culture center. It is rather small with high walls, abundant plantlife, and skads of gringos. While most estudiantes attend smaller classes, I meet with just a teacher, Joel, every school day from 9 am until 12 pm, and then join another student-teacher pair for an hour of conversación. I would have liked to have been put with at least one other peer in the mornings, but I am thankful to have Joel as a teacher because he is good at challenging me in interesting ways and helping me articulate my own ideas.
My host family has been wonderful. Its matriarch is Señora Aurora Reyes, a tiny, sweet Mexican abuela who lives with one of her four daugters and two of her sundry granddaughters. These four ladies live in the main body of the house, while Hilary, the other exchange student, and I live in a sort of adjoining apartment with our own baño and living room. Hilary is a sophomore from PLU who will study here for the whole of fall semester. She is bright-eyed, brave, and goofy, and since her arrival we have had fun practicing español and getting to know each other. We hang out with the señora and whoever else is around (amigos and relatives come and go constantly) at meal times, and walk to school together. And last night, with a group of other estudiantes, we both enjoyed our first taste of mescal, that infamous oaxequeñan licor that, when combined with mango juice, is actually palatable.

One final thought on Guatemala: Mosying around on my own was certainly interesting and let me meet some cool, fellow explorers. However, I hope that I never have to travel on my own like that again. Yes, flying solo gives you complete freedom to leave the light on as long as you like and climb all the volcanoes you want, but it also leaves you (or at least me) lonely. It takes some of the punch out of your adventures. You catch a glimpse of the full moon over Lake Atitlán and can´t turn to anyone and say ¨Look! Isn´t that beautiful?¨ Your chicken bus takes a hairpin pin on the edge of a cliff and you can´t scoot closer to anyone and say, ¨I´m sure glad my mum doesn´t know where I am right now.¨ I am not broken-hearted about being static for a while, about having the chance to actually develop some relationships. And yet, this alone time did have one, great benefit: increased awareness of the steadfast presence of God. It is humbling to think that the Creator of everything is always with me and loves me like crazy, just as He is with and loves every other soul out there struggling to figure out life.