My month in Mexico has almost come to an end. It was different than expected. Usually I try to find a way to have built-in community whenever I travel solo, and for this trip, I thought there would be other artists and writers working on their projects alongside me but it looks like I should have done a bit more research regarding my accommodations (I was swayed by the B&B's pretty pictures and semi-reasonable price I guess). It turns out more artists come in the summer and so what I came down to find was along the lines of the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, i.e. a bunch of American retirees who had traveled south for the winter.

The group was a wonderful, eccentric bunch, all dressed in huipiles (which I have weird feelings about but generally think I'm okay with). They spent their days laughing and shopping and inviting me over for a margarita from time to time. But since they weren't really the type of group to go out at night, I missed out on exploring Oaxaca's nightlife and meeting some locals my age. No matter, what I ended up getting in return was a month with very few distractions, a rough draft of my novel done, a lush garden and sunshine out my door, and a small yellow room to call my own.

All in all, it was a success, although at times a solitary one. I'm ready to go back home and give my novel some space to breath while I figure out what's next. Still, my heart aches a little as I leave this charming, noisy, earthquake-prone town. I'll miss Oaxaca, inevitably, like I do with all things when I leave them.

I have been in Oaxaca for about two weeks now and must admit, I've become a bad tourist. There is much to see and do and eat here but I've found myself forgetting to explore, mainly writing, reading and wandering off when I need food. To be fair, I came here to write so there should be no guilt there but of course, in my mind guilt and anxiety always find their way in. 

Which leads me, I guess, to a fun story: a few days before I left, I had a scare that my arm was at risk for paralysis. It was my last week of work and I was frantically tying up loose ends, finishing up every project I could while also ignoring the fact that I was about to solo travel down to Mexico in a few days, and all of sudden my arm went numb. Fully numb.

My initial diagnosis was that it was due to the fact that I had cut my wrist while doing dishes a few days earlier. A ceramic plate broke in my hand while I was washing it, and I was worried that the plate had dug in, hitting a vital nerve. But after a trip to the doctor's, I realized that no, it was just too much computer use and most likely, anxiety. In all of my years, I've seen my fair share of ways in which anxiety can manifest itself but that was definitely a new one for me.

Now that I'm here, I'm trying to be anxiety-less. Honestly, it's almost absurd to have any anxiety, being that I'm able to spend a month writing in 80 degree weather. But talking to other writers here, I see it everywhere. The anxiety that you're not writing enough. The anxiety that you're not enjoying yourself enough. 

An interview with Chicago author, poet and sociologist Dr. Eve Ewing stumbled into my inbox this week and summed it up so well. Her motto? "I always forgive myself for what I'm not doing."

"This is really dramatic," Ewing later says, "but when I finished my dissertation at two in the morning in my house in Boston, the very first thing I thought about was Harriet Tubman and slavery. I burst into tears. And I was like, 'I just finished my dissertation, and my ancestors were enslaved and if they tried to read people would punish or murder them! And they were ripped apart!' That was straight to where my mind went. I also was extremely sleep deprived. But you know, when you get that perspective, it's like, 'Uh, yeah, I got it pretty good.'"

So as of right now, I'm channeling Ewing, forgiving myself for whatever I'm not doing, being as easy as I can on myself, acknowledging that I've got it good. I've picked an achievable daily writing goal and every day, I do it. I am here, I am fine, I am writing! It is sometimes torture but it is also sometimes pure bliss.

Perhaps its an obsession with borders or the natural curiosity of wanting to know your neighbor or most likely the many nights in college spent watching Y Tu Mamá También (that last scene where the Spanish woman shouts to Diego Luna and Gael Garcia Bernal, “You’re so lucky to live here. This place oozes life!”) but either way, I have always had a fascination with Mexico. Places like Guanajauto, Merída, Chiapas, Oaxaca sound ideal, relaxed, disorderly, colorful to me but since I only had a week to explore and dislike packing in too much, I figured Mexico City would be a good place to start. Finally this July, for a round trip ticket that was less than my plane ticket to NYC last weekend, I made my way to Mexico.

“Travel is only glamorous in retrospect,” Paul Theroux wrote in The Patagonian Express, and accordingly, my trip to Mexico City involved a lost phone (left it in the cab), a little bout of sickness, and many unforeseen delayed flights but still I can’t stop thinking about mezcal served with a side of orange and Frida Kahlo’s garden and our apartment in La Roma near a roundabout full of little cafes. 

I’m lucky to have a friend who wants to vacation in Mexico City with me, and beyond that, I’m lucky to have, between us, three friends who have lived in el Distrito Federal previously, who sent us detailed lists of places to visit. From what they recommended and what I gathered, here’s my list of favorite sights:

Roma and Condesa – Our guidebook laid out a walk through Roma and Condesa, the two bourgie, upper-class neighborhoods of Mexico City. The walk led us pass outdoor cafes, city plazas, a few bookstores, and 18th century style buildings. On any given day, I love walking and people-watching but even more so when I’m traveling and gathering my bearings so this happened to be one of the highlights of my trip. My friend and I went on a walk at dinnertime so the city was especially alive after everyone had come home from work. Be sure to stop by Mercado Roma when dining, Parque España when relaxing, and El Péndulo Bookstore if you’re in the mood to browse.

Dance salsa – I may be biased because I dance salsa but I think  the worst thing you can do when travelling to Latin America is to seek out trendy bars that only play English music because it is de moda these days. If you don’t dance salsa, just go and humble yourself, take a seat, enjoy the music and watch. Or dance – I swear, you’ll end up enjoying yourself. In Mexico City, Mama Rumba is the place go but there’s also La Hija de los Apaches if you’re feeling adventurous.

The Frida Kahlo Museum – The museum is worth it for the trip to Coyoacán alone. Coyoacán feels like a quaint town inside the massive city and offers some respite from the hustle and bustle. The museum is an ode to one of my favorite artists but also in general, a pleasant house and garden tour. Coyoacán’s center plaza and markets are great for wandering through, especially when all of the university kids and families have filled the square at night.

Bosque de Chapultepec – Most come here for the Anthropology Museum, which if I hadn’t been fighting off a stomach sickness, would have been fascinating. I thought the bigger attraction though was the park itself with its 1,695 acres. I only saw a peek inside Chapultepec (the largest park in Latin America and also the lungs of Mexico City) but I’d say it’s definitely worth exploring.

Tepoztlán – I recommend taking a day trip outside of the city. While the capital is a creative force and full of energy, most of Mexico’s magic lies in its countryside. I ended up heading to Miacatlan to visit Nuestros Pequeños Hermanos, the organization I worked for in Honduras, but I hear great things about the mountain town of Tepoztlán and am quite said I missed it.

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Calle Regina – Calle Regina reminded me of a spot in Granada, Spain I used to go where the street was closed for pedestrian use and outdoor cafes sprawled out onto the brick lane but true to Mexico, it was a bit too chaotic to be considered charming. Students and artists flock here at night, which will make you feel in the know but then again, will also mean you have to ward off the piropos that men send your way as one of the few gueras on the street. Per the advice of a friend, I went out to La Burra Blanca, an anarchist dive bar with cheap beers and live cumbia.

Mezcalería – There are too many mezcal bars in the city to direct you to just one but you can’t leave the city without sitting down and sipping on mezcal, served with orange slices and sal de gusano (salt ground with dried caterpillers). On my last night in the city, my friend and I wandered in the rain to find a spot to end the trip and after walking into two slightly unimpressive bars, we finally stumbled upon a mezcalería that had full tables and played salsa quietly in the background. Hearing Spanish all around me, sipping on my mezcal, I looked at my friend and realized I needed to come back every year I can.

Also worth mentioning: the Zócalo, the Palacio Nacional for Diego Rivera’s murals, Xocimilco, the ruins of Teotihuacan, Arena México for a Lucha Libre fight, Fuente de Cibeles, La Lagunilla market for antiques, this wonderful Airbnb, and the list goes on…

In many ways, Thanksgiving this year was the same as years past. The same aunts and uncles, the same plate of turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes, the same suburban reunions. But two of my siblings couldn't make the dinner this year so it was bit quieter than most and with the quietness came extended to time to think (and read) about Ferguson and Ayotzinapa, two tragedies in places that hit close to home.

The loss of life is haunting. And what's even worse is that the loss of Michael Brown and forty three young students represent systematic violence that oppresses a race and a country everyday. So it seems this year, I'm thankful for those that have taken to the streets. Those that have started a conversation that's long overdue.

Pictured above: a snowy mountain peak in Vermont (because Chicago looks too grey and dismal right now for a photo)