Aqui in Santa Fe

Note: Please excuse spelling mistakes. I am on borrowed time at an Internet cafe and the English spell-checker doesn´t work!

Upon arriving in Mexico City last Monday, the three of us (Jessica, Jacki and I) lug two huge suitcases apiece along with multiple carry-on bags through customs. Eventually ,we are greeted by Sister Angela, tiny woman with a practical haircut who wears a long gray skirt and practical shoes. If she is overwhelmed by anything about us (our sizes, our stuff, our hair made big by the Texas heat we left) she doesn´t show it, but we have much luggage to take a taxi as she planned. Instead, she calls her nephew Mario to give us a ride to Sant Fe.

We spend about an hour making awkward chitchat (particularly for me because I´m nowhere near fluent in Spanish) and then Mario pulls up in a giant SUV. I finally get my first glance of the city. The buildings are bright but dilapidated, people are everywhere and it´s terrifying to see it from inside a care because traffic laws are more like traffic recommendations in Mexico. Cars weave in and out of right and left lanes, don´t slow for people or other automobiles, and gun it through traffic lights.

About an hour into the trip, it gets dark due to time and a rainstorm, so I can´t see enough to be nervous about the traffic. Instead, the thunder and wet roads scare me, as does the fact that our journey is taking much longer than I anticipated. My eyesight is already blurry due to problems with my contacts (and good-bye tears) which further inhibits my ability to see. I can´t understand the Spanish being spoken around me, so I enter a dreamy state whereby I occasionally chant to the American 70´s pop music being played on the radio.

I came out of it once we make it to Santa Fe, the neighborhood that we are staying in. The reason for the delay was due to the fact that a road was washed out by the rain. After dropping off our things at our house, we go to the Sisters´ home for dinner. Like a good sobrino, Mario spends a lot of time angling the car right beside doors, so that none of us will get wet. We have tortillas with the nuns and then attempt to go home--but the road where the sisters live is so steep and wet that Mario´s SUV can´t make it up the hill. After two attempts, we take an alternate route that adds 20 minutes to what should have been a three-minute ride.

Once we return to our house, I see a man in the window and immediately think ¨Wow, I know there´s crime here but who would have though someone would break in on the first day.¨ I embarrassed but touched to open the door and find that the man is one of several parishioners who have come to tidy up our house, clean up water from the leaky roof, bring food and decorate it with flowers. Exhausted, we all fall asleep quickly after they leave.
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Our house is simple, so the big, elaborate bouquets of roses and carnations seem out of place. Jessica and I decide that the are probably offers to the church or leftover from funerals and weddings. Though much work has been done on the house, it´s missing some stuff, that when I think about it, might make it easier for people to cohabit ate together. For example, my old roommates would always get mad at me for someone getting the bathroom floor soaked after my showers. In this house, there is no shower door or curtain, so the bathroom floor is always wet. I used to be irritated when my brother would leave the toilet seat up--there is no toilet seat here. People sharing laundry facilities are bothered when someone moves their stuff out of the washer to use it their selves--we have no washing machine or dryer.

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So far, our days have been spent paying visits. Sister Angela is a doctor so shes takes us to see patients and she also introduces us to neighbors. Parishioners have stopped by to see us, we get waved to church members when we are out walking and parish staff comes by to fix up our house. The sense of community here is very strong as is the presence of the Church. Yesterday we stopped at the the day care center where Jackie will be working as well as the center that the Missionaries of Charity run, where I will primarily work. Though the day care center is crowded with babies, toddlers and pre-school children, they are well-behaved and it´s very well-organized. There is a lot of joy there.

By contrast, I found the home run by Missionaries of Charity to be beautiful but somewhat depressing. It is a home for severely disabled woman, abandoned handicapped girls, and elderly women. Rooms are full of beds of people who have no one to take care of them. During my visit, Jessica translated for me, but when she had to leave she asked when of the mentally handicapped girls to show me the ropes. It was humbling but touching to have here take my hand and show me around. It was also heart-warming to see other disabled women tend to those who were bed-ridden. I admire the nuns who work there, and hope that there strength will rub off on me.

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I haven´t yet been here for a week and though I miss everyone, I don´t feel homesick yet. It still hasn´t quite sunk in that I will be gone for two years. Instead it feels like I did when I went to Germany and visited my friend Martina for a few weeks--I enjoyed experiencing her lifestyle and tagging along and meeting her friends, felt a little left out because I didn´t speak the language, but knew it would be over soon enough. That´s not the case here and I am hoping the first three months will be the hardest. I am looking forward to milestones to get through them--my birthday, Mexican Independence Day, the Day of the Dead, and Christmas. After that, I am hoping to feel more at home.