My trip to Mexico could be described as my attempt to hold on to the warm weather for a bit longer . . . or a desire to understand a place that the media chooses to keep putting down . . . or a cheaper consolation prize for not being able to afford to go back to Europe.
It's all these things. But it's certainly not a vacation. So far my trip has had many moments where you just have to say 'okay' and go with it -- Your host has one key and needs to leave for work at 6am? okay. The waiter again brings you meat? okay. You get on an express train to the stadium by accident? okay. You loose your atm card? okay.
That is not to say that I'm not glad that I'm here or that it's a completely mindbending experience to take the Mexico City metro at rush hour or see thoroughly intricate Day of the Dead alters or be forced to accelerate your 5 weeks of Spanish classes to the equivelant of 2 years in order to get through the day.
It's awesome, but I woner if the pain in my stomach is the food or the stress.