People Are Strange, When You're A Stranger: A Native Tourist--Taylor Erwin

The waves forced the starboard side into the air, pummeling the port windows into the Caribbean waters before crests on that side reciprocated the unwarranted aggression; a pair of aquatic bully of a tempest violently see-sawing our ferry back to the mainland. Due in large part to my fatigue and newly discovered seasickness I found myself nearly dropping to my knees and Bugs Bunny-kissing the ground as I finally stepped foot on shore. It was Sunday afternoon, and we were just returning from a Cozumel fall break. As the events of that weekend are well documented - not without their plot holes, appropriate as they may be - I shall not relay another version of the same four days seen through another pair of sunglass wearing eyes. I will say, however, that our pool volleyball game was absolutely epic. México has certainly grown on me. Not that I ever had any animosity towards the basement in what is the house of North America, but I was new. Like a cellar the beginning of my occupation is somewhat lacking as my eyes adjust to the (cultural) darkness and my olfactory organ assimilates the redolent recollections I so rarely remember. Now, however, I've set up my shag rug, my thrift store sofa, black and white TV and I'm comfortably cohabiting with my collegiate comrades. Alright, I'll stop the alliterations. In all honesty, though, I have become so accustomed to life in México that I'm surprised when I don't recognize a street, or I sit on a bus I haven't yet plopped my over-indulgent American toosh onto. I don't quite feel like I'm an expatriate, but maybe America and I are having a trial separation. We all feel somewhat similar; that is, in a land where we're clearly not natives we still don't feel like tourists. It's an abroad purgatory. But it certainly adds an interesting dynamic to the whole situation. I'll be honest - and it sounds exceptionally supercilious and ethnocentric - but I feel there is some discrimination towards gringos down here. Nothing too much - most of it consists of assuming that we're more likely to buy a hammock on the street, regardless of the fact that each of us pass the vendors at least twice daily - but I've had a couple of instances where I've felt that the bus driver refused to pick me or a group of us up because we reflected the sun so brightly. Nevertheless, I believe that most of the people here are fully accepting of us; they're certainly friendly, and many will even try and bear with those of us who speak limited Español. I am in a feverish anticipation over our forthcoming excursions to the states of Oaxaca, Chiapas and Tabasco and I can say - with full transparency - that this has long been the part of the trip I have been looking forward to the most. Our group has proved fantastic, our educators superb and our meals inconceivably toothsome. And as much as I will rejoice upon my return to the States, I will feel more than slightly strange when I'm not invited into every shop I pass at 10:30 in the morning, offered a shot of tequila.