Ugly American Tourists and Hostels Galore

First of all, I need to apologize for going so long without posting. My only real excuse is that I’ve been extremely busy. I spent the past few weeks preparing to leave Tucson, which of course meant that I only had time to write papers and do all of my reading. I barely had any time to spend with my absolutely wonderful Tucson host family. And after Tucson, I spent the past week in Mexico City, and I was in no position to post anything there. I did have access to the internet, but I had to pay for it. And more importantly, I was definitely still trying to process everything that I had seen and experienced.

Of course, to be entirely fair, I still haven’t processed everything that I saw while I was in Mexico City. To some extent, I’m not even sure what I should think about the trip. On the one hand, it was a program-based excursion, complete with fascinating talks about the student rebellions in Mexico in 1968(and the massacre on October 2) and 1999, internal migration in Mexico and the legal and economic ramifications of NAFTA. (Ok, so the economic discussion wasn’t as fascinating: I find numbers boring in my first language, but in my second, they’re impossible.) This part I loved, and, what’s more, I don’t feel bad about loving it. While we did do some touristy things, like going to the Torre Latino and the Frida Kahlo museum, we weren’t there solely to be tourists. That changed the dynamics of the trip, at least for me, because in a sense, it allowed me to feel a small sense of superiority, especially when I compared myself to the other people staying in my hostel. For the most part, they did not speak any Spanish, and were only in Mexico City to shop and go clubbing. (Granted, I did both of the last two things as well: the former quite a bit, the latter only once.) During the programmed part of the week, I felt different from those tourists, because I was there to learn more about complicated problems that some of them had probably never even heard of. I’ll admit it was a really nice feeling.

If you think I sound extremely arrogant, you’re right. However, that sense of superiority quickly disappeared once the programmed part of the week ended and my fall break began. I didn’t have a better reason to be in Mexico City anymore. I quickly began to feel like the epitome of the ugly American tourist, hated the world over. Now, I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t enjoyed all of the time that I spent in Mexico City, because I really did have a lot of fun and I managed to learn a lot, even during my break. I loved going to Bellas Artes, the Palacio Nacional, and the Mueso de Antropología. I will even admit to loving the tour that my hostel gave that took us to the Basilica de la Virgen de Guadalupe and Teotihuacán. That was an incredible experience, and not just because we went to two absolutely awe-inspiring places. The group that went on the tour was a mix of different nationalities, and while English was a second language for quite a few people, Spanish was spoken by very few. That was ok, however, because our tour guide spoke English. The places we went to were beautiful and absolutely sublime. As a lapsed Catholic, I was especially affected by the Basilica. Seeing the tilma with the Virgin’s image on it, affected me in ways that I wouldn’t have expected. A few days after going to the Basilica, I found myself praying in my head, which is something I hadn’t done in years. I don’t really know what I should make of that development, other than that I was less lapsed than I’d thought. But Teotihuacán was something else entirely. Walking through the reconstructed ruins is something left me speechless for the entire day. I still am unable to describe it in a way that is even remotely comprehensible. I also am struggling to write about the place without romanticizing it. I am a horrible romantic, but I know that if I describe Teotihuacán the way I want to, as the ruins of an extinct civilization, then I am not describing it as it is today. If I write about the glory of the Teotihuacános, and the Aztecs who only later inhabited the city, then I’m ignoring all of the people who still make a living there. While Teotihuacán is frequently seen as a reconstructed, it is still alive. Granted, it is not as alive as it once was, and it isn’t the same, but it is still very much alive. The streets are no longer filled with Aztecs, but rather tourists, tour guides, and the thousands of vendors who sell at the feet of pyramids that used to be the site of human sacrifices.

I’m sorry; I’m not being very articulate. I suppose I still don’t know exactly what I should say about this past week. I still feel overwhelmed by the entire experience, and I’m having difficulty sticking with only one topic, when there are hundreds of things that I could be saying. However, I do have some good news for the very few readers of this blog: I have several ideas for more posts, so keep an eye out. Hasta luego, Kat.