Month one.

I walked back (up) from the mercado, all 332 stairs, in the penetrating afternoon sun, and gave new meaning to the word “trudging.” I put away the 12lbs of fruit, peeled off my bra, put up my hair, and sat down to my computer with a fresh strawberry daiquiri.

All of a sudden, it’s pouring outside, and thundering. Despite being in a desert, this is jungle-level rain, like the type of rain you see in movies when something shady is going down, or when two people in love find each other. This rain is enveloping, and inescapable as it pushes its way under doors and in-between the seals of windows. The thunder is not the ordinary, mumbling thunder of which we’ve grown accustomed to, either. Every minute or so, the downpour pauses to accommodate a shred of lightning, the dogs lick their lips nervously, and we all brace ourselves as the sky tears itself into a thousand pieces, its shots echoing magnificently off the surrounding hills. It’s the sound of cannon fire, fireworks bursting, glass breaking, metal crunching, boulders rolling, animals screaming  – all competing for the loudest decibel, all at once. It’s violent. It’s fantastic.

This is the rainy season in Guanajuato, Mexico.

It has been nearly one month since we moved in, and I’ve found that my level of content & comfort changes as quickly as the weather. As cliche as that seems, sunshine is not always the harbinger of happiness; often, the jarring crack of lightning and peal of the first raindrops rattle me back into a positive perspective. A friend asked me, not only if I am happy here, but if my “soul feels at home.” Without any offence meant towards this beautiful city and fascinating country-  gods no, my soul doesn’t feel at home. But, it has been a very long time since it did, longer than I can accurately remember, and there’s still plenty of time to find a piece of home (whatever that means) here in Mexico. It’s a pendulous country: a land of rain and sun, of dichotomies and conflict;  leaving much to be wanted, yet having a great many things to offer.

It’s best to be flexible.

I finish my daiquiri as I type, and by the time this post is complete, the dogs are lying out in the sunshine again.



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