Finals for Level 2 is next week and I can’t believe I’m already halfway through the program. I’m not getting as many bug bites as when I first arrived, but I’m notorious for getting bit in the most random spots, especially if I stay out after sunset. A couple of weeks ago I had one on my eye lid and another on my ear. At this rate, I’m just accepting my fate that I’ll always have bug bites while I’m here.
My bici, Honey, is no longer making weird noises thanks to WD-40, but the basket is falling apart. Muy triste. It has a fairly large hole at the bottom and it’s only a matter of time before it’ll need to be replaced, but I’ll worry about that when the time comes. I knew what I was getting myself into when I learned there was a rainy season here, but again, we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. The tropical storms have wrecked the wifi connection and there’s power outages every week. The base has been flooded for over a month, but I knew things were looking up when I saw a man mowing the lawn yesterday. Rain, rain, please go away.
Chicks Building Bricks, Inc.
Several students wanted to take a hike through the neighboring mountains, but had no idea where to start or who to ask. I was able to convince one of our teachers who frequently takes the trails to be our guide and he agreed, under the condition that my housemate and I would help him build bricks for the new house he’s building. You could tell he was hesitant for two unexperienced women to help him, and later admitted that he thought he would have to teach us the basics of manual labor. We showed up after our six mile hike ready to work and did just that. After two hours of sifting through sand, mixing the cement multiple times, and forming bricks with only one mold available, we proudly produced 38 bricks. Yes that’s right, three more than the typical amount he makes by himself!!
It really puts things in perspective. It took over two hours to finish one batch of bricks, and he needs over 2,000 made just to start the exterior of his house. He told us he started making his own because it was cheaper to do it himself and the quality was better. Back home, all he would need is a pick up truck and a Home Depot. Here, resources are limited and the best quality is done by your own hands. We were definitely sore the next day, but we loved it so much and it was an honor to help our friends achieve their dream of being home owners.
Las Vacaciones
During my three week break in August, it felt like I was actually able to have and enjoy a Summer break for the first time since high school. I was able to visit Mexico City, Oaxaca City, and San Jose Pacifico. I first fell in love with this country five years ago while being in Mexico City, but Oaxaca City stole my heart the moment I saw how much color filled the streets. This trip was an adjustment to say the least.
I learned that even when planning with the best intentions, Mexico sometimes has other plans in store. For example, when planning to take a tour bus around the city, you can’t just verbally communicate that you need an English translator. You must also write it down on the registration form, otherwise, the information is void. By flying out of Mexico City, you’re accepting the risk that you may not make your flight due to the lack of communication and invalid information being provided to passengers. My personal favorite was traveling less than five miles via Uber and taking over 30 minutes to get to the next destination because the traffic is very slow.
Awkward Moments
Many people have asked if I’m fluent in the Spanish language and I appreciate the confidence. Though I’ve been fully immersed these last four months in my language learning journey, I am far from fluency. I no longer speak like a toddler, more so a small child who doesn’t understand sentence structure. I understand a lot more than before, but my ears are still in training and it takes a while for the information to process in my brain. For example, in one of my classes, we’re given discussion prompts and are only allowed to respond in Spanish. I don’t remember the question, but my classmate was discussing how the smell of iguanas was horrid. I was intrigued because Iguana is a delicacy here and only prepared for special occasions, so it made sense that they didn’t cook it often because of the smell. My teacher agreed and recalled when we were on vacation recently and how she couldn’t stop smelling it in the streets while we were walking downtown. I interrupted her and said “when were they cooking Iguana is San Jose?!” Everyone in the room looked at me with confusion as my teacher said, “Not iguana… MA-RE-HWA-NA.” Ahh, yes. Weed. Not the reptile. Everything made more sense now.
I’ve mentioned a church in the city that reminds me of home and I’ve officially started to call it my own. Every week they sell food after service to fund various church projects and I love to support. Last week, I was eating around friends and strangers as I confidently said, “Yo necesito una cerveza (ser-vay-sa).” I immediately freaked out when I realized I just announced that I needed a beer, not a napkin. I immediately corrected myself and said “servilleta (ser-vi-ye-ta)”. So, that happened.
Adventures at the Nail Salon
I truly saved the best for last. During the whole wifi fiasco and not being able to contact anyone for several days, I decided to treat myself and get my nails done. Someone suggested going on a day when I had several hours to kill, so I decided to seize the moment. I woke up later than usual and had a crazy morning, so I didn’t really have the chance to eat anything or drink water (I know, I know). I quickly grabbed a yogurt drink on my way out the door and headed towards the salon. The nail tech was kind, but I still don’t know enough to have deep conversations, so the conversation was very light. As she finished up my nails and started prepping for my pedicure, my hands started mildly shaking. Because this isn’t my first time flirting with dehydration, I quickly grabbed the emergency granola bar from my bag and frantically started to eat it and drink my water. It was too late. Sweat started forming on my arms and forehead and I knew I was in trouble. Without wifi, my phone is basically a paper weight during emergency situations. I looked at my new friend and said “I’m not feeling good.” She proceeded to ask me several questions that I couldn’t translate but I just kept saying “my stomach… my stomach”. She yelled outside and two other women appeared. Surely, they’d know English, right? Wrong. They all looked at me with visible concern and asked more questions that I couldn’t understand. One noticed the sweat and proceeded to dry me off with her bare hands. They conversed for a few seconds and then went to work. One woman left and the other two started gathering supplies. The owner handed me a cotton ball that had been dipped in alcohol, but something funny started happening in my stomach and I realized I needed to be honest; it was now or never. “Tienes basura?!” I asked. She rushed me outside to the trash can and I was so embarrassed. I was about to throw up at the nail salon in front of these strangers. But as the seconds passed and I breathed in the fresh air, things started looking up. I sheepishly admitted I didn’t eat and the women simultaneously said “oh my goodness… you need to eat something!” They asked if I liked sopa de camarones and I agreed before I could translate in my head what that was.
They took me out back and sat me down in front of this makeshift kitchen. One woman poured soup into a pan over a fire and the other gave me a room temp. hibiscus tea drink. Flies everywhere, the soup was ready and they presented it in front of me with a stack of tortillas. I looked down to shrimp heads unpeeled and fully veined staring back. I wanted to cry. The kindness of these women was unmatched. I thought of the words my mother has said for as long as I could remember, “you’ll eat anything if you’re hungry enough,” and dug in. I’ve never had shrimp soup before, but this was some of the best soup I’ve ever had in my life.
I later found out that the three women were all sisters. The third sister returned towards the end of my meal and the other women reported my poor eating habits. I received the most disapproving face I’ve seen in months as she checked my blood pressure and announced that I didn’t have the best results. After my meal, we went back inside the salon and I got a pedicure. That day I was reminded of why I chose Mexico. This beautiful country is filled with a people whose culture is to love first, ask questions later. The mosquito bites, tarantula sightings, earthquakes, and tropical storms are no match for the kindness that the people of Mexico bring.
All Types of Sick
My throat has been scratchy for the last couple of days and I’m starting to get a bit concerned. Being under the weather is never fun, especially when you are supposed to be studying. I still miss couches. Lawn chairs and benches are no comparison to lounge furniture. I miss my daddy. Our neighbor is spray painting his fence and the potent fumes remind me of my dad’s workshop. I miss my culture and seeing people that look like me. I always miss my family. The quick turn around of new friends coming and going has allowed me to practice being content with myself on a different level and allowing the Lord to work through my ability to form relationships both short and long term, but it’s definitely an adjustment. I feel comfortable here, but deeply miss my community. I didn’t realize how strong my roots had developed into the lives of others until I left, but I am grateful for modern technology.
I’ve been more intentional about approaching new people during meal breaks and making friends. Throughout my adult years, I have intentionally tried to push myself to do uncomfortable things that will benefit me in the future. Somewhere in the last few years I stopped trusting myself to take huge leaps of faith, but that changed when I moved here. Jumping off a diving board for the first time, attending birthday parties of strangers, and so much more. As the saying goes, “When in Cacalote…” (or something like that). All that to say, I joined the worship team at my church. It’s always been a hidden dream I never planned on achieving-or sharing for that matter- for various reasons that include a busy work schedule and not wanting to commit. Now look at me! No job and all the time. God definitely has a sense of humor because I had no intention of “getting too involved,” and now I have drum/piano lessons before worship practice on Saturdays and I take a 40 min van ride for practice on Sundays at 8am, even though church doesn’t actually start until 11am. I don’t know what’s in store, but I don’t want to miss any opportunity the Lord presents to me.
Lastly lastly, some minor changes. My second day here in Mexico, I was having dinner with the director of the Spanish school and I overheard him mention how Level 4 was so critical to the program and how everything clicked together like a puzzle. I immediately knew I was going to have to extend my stay an extra two months. Despite knowing how important it was to complete the program, I didn’t fully admit it to myself until last week. The idea of doing all this over again and raising support felt a bit overwhelming with the stakes even higher this time, but if God got me here once, I know He can/will do it again. I still don’t know what I’m doing after my time here, but hearing His voice and knowing the next step for my life has been refreshingly freeing on a whole new level.
Tu hermana y amiga en Oaxaca,
OMG
PS, just as the song says, “I’ll be home for Christmas”.
Instant connection with my new housemate for the last five weeks! 
Those are bushes sticking out at the bottom! 
Hannah was my personal photographer, lol! 
…again, she always had her camera. These were not planned, she’s just that talented! 
Nothing a Torta con pollo can’t fix 
The beginning process of brick making 
the best nieve in Puerto!
PS again… The rest of the photos I wanted to show are not loading, but you can always check my Instagram page @lifewithomg for photos, videos, and the occasional TikTok.
lifewithomg 
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