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.