7-8-04   My trip to Mexico City

Hey all!

I just returned from one of the greatest experiences of my life - Project Mexico. The Project is a mostly student-run service trip in which a group of Canisius students travel to Mexico City to volunteer for 12 days.

I was always excited about the trip, from the time I applied until the day before we left - but nothing could have prepared me for the experience itself.

	Here I am with Brenda, one of the many children we worked with at the camp.

We left from Buffalo/Niagara International Airport in the early hours of Wed., May 26. From there we flew to Atlanta and then to Mexico City. Flying into Mexico is interesting - it's the largest city in the world, boasting approx. 30 million people. While the population is immense, so are the poverty and the smog. As we descended, we first went through the clouds then through the thick smog and finally landed. I don't know the exact elevation, but Mexico City is very high above sea level. So high, in fact, that breathing is difficult for those not used to it (that would be me). Apparently the elevation can make people sick (once again, me), as well.

After we landed, we took a 45-minute bus ride to Rafael Donde, the convent/school where we would be staying. Following an entire day of travel, we all collapsed in exhaustion.

(Side note: I'm attempting to squash 12 days jam-packed full of experiences into this one entry. I could easily write about ten entries on this trip, but who wants to read all of that? I'm only going to share the basics of what we did and how I felt about all of it.)

We began our first day of service two days after we arrived (Friday, May 28). In the morning, we all took the frightening 20-minute trip to Mother Teresa's on Mexico City's public transportation. They pack their busses so tightly that people hang out the doors and the entire bus leans to one side. Traffic is complete insanity there as well - but the drivers are all incredible.

Mother Teresa's is a home for male/female babies and female adolescents/elderly

Enjoying quality time with some of the girls from the camp.

who have been abandoned or unable to be cared for by their families because of their disabilities. My first day there was probably my most difficult day of the trip. Although I have worked with severely disabled individuals prior to this trip, something about the language barrier and stories I had heard made me extremely nervous and almost sick to my stomach. As a small group of us waited to be let into the adolescents' room, we started hearing screaming and yelling from inside - that was the moment that made me the most nervous (although I didn't, and still don't, completely understand why).

However, when we walked in the room, the tears started flowing as I located the source of the screaming and yelling. It was one resident walking around in circles in the common room - but she wasn't crying or in pain - she was hysterically laughing!

At that moment I realized why so few care to help with these special people - as "normal" humans, we assume too much. Why can't screaming be a mandatory aspect of laughter? It makes it all the more joyful and heartfelt. Why can't drooling be a sign of smiling so widely you can't keep the spit in your mouth? At "Mama T's," as some affectionately called it, I met the most blithesome and radiant people in the world - even though society would have me believe they are the downtrodden, the different, the disabled, and the poor. They are none of those things, but I am. When was it that I lost the ecstasy of flying down a slide or sailing on a swing? Why can I not be so lucky as to be able to drag someone over to a tree or flower and then stand silently still, grinning, enraptured by its simple existence?

I'm sorry if this is getting too deep, but this trip left me with nothing but questions, all about my personal life, which I am incredibly grateful for. But more on that later.

	Here I am with Ani, one of the girls at the camp.

That Friday we also began our daily after-school camp. Back at Rafael Donde, we would line up every day, facing the close to 200 children, make the daily announcements (to be more precise, only one of us did that - Monica, a native Spanish-speaker and the group's personal savior) and shout our names. Following the usually organized announcements, all heck broke loose. I mainly stayed in the arts and crafts room, but my patience and knowledge of the language was stretched to its limit.

I took Spanish in school for seven years. I haven't taken a class since my freshman year. This fact unfortunately reared its ugly head as soon as I got into a room with 50 motor-mouthed Mexican children. The first day I wanted to burst out in tears as child after child would sigh and shake their heads and use the most basic Spanish words they could think of. Some even tried English, which I loved, because I had the sort-of upper hand. However, as soon as they realized all they knew was "hello," "goodbye," "do you have a boyfriend," and I love you," they resorted back to their native tongue, much to my chagrin. There were one or two who knew English pretty well, and of course I recruited them as my translators for the day. They never came to the camp again, or at least not to arts and crafts, but who would blame them? Translating for a crazy girl who is close to tears isn't the most entertaining way to spend your afternoon.

The camp also taught me much about the Mexican culture, especially the poverty aspect. I have never encountered a poverty like the one present in Mexico City. I've seen my share of homeless in NYC, but that is nothing compared to the widespread need in Mexico. Houses consisted of what looked like burned-out buildings, just concrete walls with openings for windows and doors. Most homes had no front door and of those, almost all had a tattered bed sheet to do the job. The window shades, if there were any at all, consisted of sheets or tee shirts. The roofs were rusted tin, or any material that could keep the rain out.

However, as impoverished as these people were, they still seemed so happy. They had all that they could afford and were content with that. That attitude cannot be found anywhere in the US - we're all about working our way up the ladder and stepping on the guy below just to get ahead. Don't get me wrong - I love living in the US and at times have that typical American mentality, but I think we've got a lot to learn from other cultures. Appreciation is a major lesson, one that I especially felt after this trip.

The next week was filled with lots of activities. Because I got really sick the first weekend and remained sick for the entire trip (let's not go there... definitely not a pretty story), I taught English to the schoolchildren in the school at Rafael Donde in the mornings. They placed each of us with a group of four or five students and they asked us tons of questions in English. I can't even count how many times I was asked if I have a boyfriend - definitely the most popular question in every single class. I regret not being able to attend Mama T's more often, but we'll see about next year.

On the final day of camp, Friday, June 4, we had a fiesta for all the kids. We bought a huge bunny piñata and 60 lbs. of candy! The giant thing was so heavy that it couldn't be broken or even stay attached to the rope holding it up - so our strapping boys beat the crap out of it and threw the candy off the roof to the chaotic children below. That was definitely a sight to see. It was hard to say goodbye to some of the kids, especially the ones to whom we'd grown attached. They made us take lots of pictures and promised to write and email (although they never do, apparently).

Each of the two weekends, our group of 32 would take cultural excursions to

Here I am with the other girls on the trip on one of our excusrions to the pyramids.

the Aztec pyramids, surrounding cities, Mexico City's center, Guadalupe, etc. They were all amazing and, at times, mind-blowing. Mexico's culture is incredibly rich and fascinating and I feel so lucky I was able to take advantage of and learn about it.

I, along with 11 others in the group, stayed in Mexico another week just for vacation. Even though we came back to the US from paradise, the experiences in
Mexico City didn't fade in the least. I still returned home with a sense of awareness, both about myself and how I live my life. Every time I eat a big meal, I find myself pausing and remembering the skinny children at camp who will never afford to eat such a meal, much less attend school. Every time I run and laugh while playing with my nieces and nephews, I think of the residents of Mama T's, who can't run or play in the same way, but can laugh just as hard or even harder. I think they got the best out of the three.

Mexico taught me an innumerable amount of lessons, all of which could never be contained in one entry. The greatest lesson I will share is Appreciation. I can walk, I can speak, I have a solid roof over my head, I attend a good college, I can eat pretty much whenever I feel like it, etc. But I've also come to appreciate my shortcomings. I know I'll never feel the same joy that young woman felt at Mama T's, and I guess it's my gift as well as curse. My gift because I can recognize that a tree's just a tree, a flower's just a flower and so on. It's also my curse for those same reasons. Mexico left me yearning to return to childhood, and who knows, maybe someday I'll feel that limitless wonder once again.

I absolutely want to attend the trip next year so I'll be applying again in the fall. I made some awesome friends, saw some incredible sights, got extremely sick, learned a lot about myself, but most importantly had an experience that rocked my consciousness. What more could I have asked for?

Regina Linge
President
Canisius College Little Theatre

Regina's December 2003 Journal
Regina's January 2004 Journal
Regina's April 2004 Journal