I was recently told by a relatively new friend that it seems I have my life all together: My dream job, my dream guy and my dream lifestyle. Isn’t it funny how we view others’ lives and make those assumptions?
Full disclosure, I am not really a social media participant. Oh sure, I have a couple accounts that I occasionally update with a picture —much like my sporadic posts here— but it is not like I am posting every meal and every “cool thing I do” in order to give the perception of this idealistic lifestyle my friend perceives.
Yes, I’ve been living in Mexico, in various locations. Yes I recently visited Italy and had an amazing experience on a retreat in Damanhur (more on that another time). Yes I am in a mutually beneficial relationship with a guy that truly loves me. Yes I am my own boss, doing what I love and getting paid for it. Ok —that all does sound pretty sweet. But, I am not here to tell you about all that. I want to share with you the other side of the story.
My Rosie Glasses
Those of you that know me, know I generally view life and the world through rose colored glasses. Or, as some may say, it’s all “unicorns and butterflies” with Veronica. This may be true, but even I have my bad days —or weeks— as the case may be. The thing with being Nomadic is that you never know exactly where you will land, and what energy will be there to receive you. This was the case with our recent adventure.
We are currently living in Mexico City and spent a little over two months in an apartment that was practically perfect. The location and accommodations were great, and so were the owners. We were close to the historical center of the city and surrounded by several museums. My cousin visited for a week and we took advantage of all the area had to offer, and then some! My partner and I like it here so much, we decided to extend our stay through the winter. Unfortunately, the apartment was already rented to someone else.
So, I searched for a new location. With the holiday coming (The Day of the Dead) there were limited choices. I found what I thought was the perfect place. It had the location on the map right near Centro so we wouldn’t miss any of the celebrations, and it even boasted great markets near by and a car service. Great! What could go wrong? (Did I mention rose colored glasses?)
On the Move…
By now, we have the packing-up-to-relocate part of the deal pretty much down. However, there is always uncertainty that follows. Do we trust the map provided by the Airbnb? Do we use a taxi or an uber? Where exactly is the place and how exactly do we get in? Even though we both are learning Spanish, will there be a language barrier issue?
While I have a tendency to approach uncertainty much like a child —with curiosity and an adventurous spirit— all the uncertainty causes my partner a lot of anxiety. I have learned to give him as much information as possible and to hand him the map, so he feels a little more in control.
I had —what I thought was— good information. We lugged our luggage (is that where the name comes from?) downstairs and flagged down a cab. My partner showed the cabby the address, he seemed to know where it was, and we were on our way. I brought up the location on Airbnb and handed the phone to my partner so he could follow along and feel secure.
I then began my wide-eyed observation of the world out the taxi window. We seemed to be going a lot further than I thought we would. But, I was enjoying the ride, and the never-ending entertainment of the Mexico City streets.
The traffic was really slow, and we crawled our way down the highway. My partner (in his broken gringo Spanish) began to tell the cabby he missed the turn. The driver disagreed and kept repeating “Los Banos” (which means toilet). Back and forth they argued. The driver insisting the address was in Los Banos and my partner insisting we missed the turn.
So, we got out. In the middle of a major highway, we grabbed all our luggage, paid the man his fare and I called our new host. My partner was not happy, to say the least.
With my own broken gringo Spanish I was able to determine the correct address. Turns out the map on the Airbnb app was incorrect, and the driver was right. So we ordered an uber and we were off once more. I again, handed my partner the map.
Not what we bargained for…
This was not the location I expected. We were heading for the airport, and the neighborhood Los Banos —aptly named, I must say. We got into the building without too much trouble, but I was deeply disappointed, knowing we will be nowhere near Centro for the holiday. There also were no elevators, and our apartment was on the 5th floor. I hoped the place was as nice as it appeared in the pictures.
Needless to say, that was not the case. I wouldn’t call the place dirty, but it was not clean. The water didn’t always work and there was no market around other than little bodegas with mostly junk food. Definitely depressed and impoverished, this was not an area to go for an afternoon walk. The energy of the neighborhood weighed heavily on us for that week. It felt like a jail cell, and the inmates began to turn on one another.
Looking back on it now, it amazes me how sensitive we are to our environments. I wonder if most of us are even aware of it? We were totally surrounded by concrete —I can’t even recall a plant around except for a couple small potted ones in the apartment. The constant smell of jet fuel and the sounds of take offs and landings, traffic and yelling, as well as the random fireworks, and occasional gun shots, made us feel completely on edge. We had no one to vent to but each other.
Thankfully we relocated once more and are now in one of the nicest areas of the city. Even though I lost them for a few days… I found my rose colored glasses once more.