Mexico Adventures.

Two nights ago, I returned from my service trip to lovely Iowa. I was in a village called Xicotepec (hee-koh-tuh-peck) in Mexico.

I could write one really long post about my entire experience, but I think that would be extremely long. So I'll just start with something I did the first night in Xicotepec.

To refresh, this is my second time on the same trip. I was attatched to the Dental Team, and we brought toothbrushes and toothpaste to children in schools around the village.

The first evening of our stay in Xicotepec, we traveled to an orphanage, about 30 minutes away. I do not speak Spanish, but I really wanted to connect with the people there anyways. We arrived, and the kids came out and greeted us. They were smiling, but visibly nervous. "Hola," one girl said and she shook my hand and kissed my cheek. This is the standard greeting for females in Mexico. I can confidently say that I don't think I've been kissed so many times in one week before, and possibly never again.

I tried to disperse among the children with my friend Chucho(choo-choh)- he lives in Xicotepec, and his father is very involved in helping with the trip. I tried to say hello to several kids. I failed moderately, but eventually started pushing a little girl on her swing. I kept trying to make her laugh, but failed miserably, and embarrassed myself in the process. After that incident, Chucho would make a joke that I try to make them laugh, and they cry instead.

Later that evening though, we started drawing pictures with a group of kids. It was still really awkward, but it was better than nothing. I drew a picture for the little girl who didn't laugh at my jokes, and gave it to her. She said thanks, but I'm starting to think maybe she really was just scared of me.

One of the better parts of that evening was me joining a game of soccer(they of course called it football). For the first five minutes, I had no idea which team I was on, still lacking in knowledge of the language. However, there were some college students who traveled with us on the trip, and they seemed to be studying Spanish, and I picked up on quite a bit.

Oh yes, and I did fall. But it was a graceful fall. Which was unfortunately caught on video.

As it got dark, we went inside the orphanage, and had a little casual ceremony. While we were there, the deworming team (students at the University of Iowa) gave a deworming pill to each child. They were finished, and now we were delivering each orphan a pair of shoes that was donated by someone who adopted a child from that same orphanage several years ago.

The really cool part of that, though, was that each of us there got to give the shoes to the child in person. My box was labeled Ricardo Ramos. We each walked into the center of the room, called out the name, and the boy or girl walked up to receive it, sometimes hugging or shaking hands.

As I walked out, I called out the name (attempting not to butcher it with my American accent), and a boy close to my age walked up. He was smiling, and very thankful, but it was also slightly awkward, because we both hesitated and ended up not shaking hands. That made it a less warm exchange, that I wish I could have changed. It was still a very cool moment though.

As we left the orphanage, I dreaded the thought that it would be a year until I saw any of them again, if at all. Sometimes the broken and difficult connections you make with people who are different from you are the ones that are closest to your heart. That sounds way more cheesey than I meant it to sound.

How about this: a half-connection to people of a different culture is more rare and sometimes more enjoyable than any 'average' connections to people around where you're from. Yeah that sounds better.

Peace out.

Nothing special!

Recently, something has been bothering me. Yes, I suppose this is another pet peeve post. Alliteration not intended.

My particular generation was born in the mid-nineties. Meaning that between now and then, there have been some special dates. The turn of the century, 9/11/01, 6/6/06, 8/8/08, 11/11/11, and now the upcoming 12/21/12.

My first exposure to what I'm about to explain, I came across on Facebook. There's always these little groups you can join or like with fun (or stupid) categories, groups of people, quotes, etc. A few months ago, I had scene one that said, "I was alive on 11/11/11." The generic trend was to like if that also applied to you.

Well as I see it, people join because it's cool. I'm not going to lie, 11/11/11 is a pretty cool date. But does that make anything about that day special? NOPE. Many people liked this cliche Facebook fad, and it really started to bother me. At the time, 11/11/11 had only taken place on the previous week.

"So you were alive yesterday? Congratualations, I'm so proud of you! You are truly a hero."

No, I'm sorry, but the special day doesn't make you particularly special. I could definitely see generations from now, when you're old and have grandkids, then yes, you could say, "In the year 2011, I went to school on November 11th. That's pretty cool, isn't it?"

But really? You're celebrating life when some cool numbers line up. Celebrate life everyday, but don't get too big-headed about it.

"Oh, you were alive on 11/11/11? That's cool, so were seven billion other people. Still feel special?"

Now that's only part one to this post. Part two intiates now.

This part all started maybe a couple weeks ago. I was surfing Memebase (one of my new favorite sites, thanks to one of my friends) when I happened upon a lovely little meme.

Oh really? You survived all those daaangerous days when nothing catastrophic happened? You did? I'm so proud of you.

But seriously. There was a fear or superstition about all of these dates (Except for 11/11/11...as far as I know that is just supposed to be lucky?). The world could've ended in 2000. Y2k could've killed us all. 6/6/06 was the devil's day. 11/11/11 is a lot of ones (I still don't know how they perceived that to be dangerous...?), and now 2012 is when the Mayan calendar ends.

You are truly a warrior.

I couldn't resist that last bit of sarcasm. On a more straightforward note: NO, you didn't survive these days through any special reason. Because...*drumroll*....NOTHING HAPPENED! Yes, there is the chance that you could have died. You could choke on your lunch, get in a car accident, be a sideline victim of a horrible crime, and lose your life. But that could happen EVERYDAY. It's not special.

So MAYBE 2012 is special. In my personal opinion, I don't believe the world will end. And being alive this far into your life doesn't make you any more agile to potentially conquer the end of the world. You're stuck with the rest of us, oh humble human.

That was my rant. I hope you enjoyed it.