Why not leaving is not an option

Am I ready to say goodbye to latinoamerica? No! Am I ready to take a risk and give it all up for love, even if it doesn't work out? Yes!!

As i was in the madrid aiport coming home i felt like a teenage girl looking in the mirror

Childish corporate warrior. Pinterest  collection after some middle eastern desert abuse? Drunk girl at an airport. ...Middle school slumber party? Frumpy girl nearing 30 who still buys everything teal colored. 60s American Girl doll travel gear. Will I look like a backpacker when I travel for work, when I'm old? Is growing up something that doesn't happen anymore?

Getting introspective during a long layover in Barajas...

Leaving mexico

Almost 3 years ago, I said "name that city", absolutely at awe of the monstrosity I had been invited to conquer (or that I was about to invite to conquer me... Or at least my gut flora).

If I can flourish in mexico city, I can do anything. I thought of it as thE most challenging enactment of an extreme dream I had always had-- go to the emerging world, go work in tech, in impact work, in an underrated, underground art-house megamonster of smog and charm out its humanity and delicate cultural vibrancy like a snake charmer charms a beautiful, multicolored, sensual fanged viper. I thought, this place must be the most impenetrable wonder I can imagine, of wild importance to civilization itself and a microcosm of all the past and all the future of people. Yes, the intensity of India, in just a couple hours' flight to the US.

And then as the NYTimes began to unfold love affair pieces on the chic romantic gourmet side of DF, and as my own Instagram became more baroque, oversaturated and gluttonous, mexico city began to feel small and approachable - even driveable. The contemporary design, art, and gastronomical scene felt more contemporary than possible anywhere else on the continent of America and I became convinced I lived in the most distinguished city in the hemisphere. Don't mind the sulphuric smell, of course, or the volcanic ash which covers the marble balconies every so often, which coats the soles of your feet as you walk around the house with too many open windows.

And then amidst the galactic waves of yuppism and gentrification of the previously ghetto neighborhoods, I left for Tel Aviv, the dilapidated "Caribbean" utopia where all are equal, poorly dressed, overly fit and educated, and when I came back I saw that mexico city was mostly the same as it was a thousand years ago, a tranquil, disorderly, cheaply made megatropolis with huffing sooty buses, hideous people everywhere, eternal cycles of inequality and a still-unapproachable vast multiverse of rich local cultural diversity. This place is still screwed, but it is amazing, outstanding and the whole world should be learning lessons from it every day.

What kind of lessons? Well, how corruption comes to be; the origin of creativity; the philosophy of revolt; gastronomic sensory systems and food science; microbiology, ecology, anthropology, architecture & archeology, urban planning, sociology, psychology - all fields, when approaching mexico city, become of phD-advanced proportions and defy logic entirely. The contrasts, the Machiavellian counter-intuitive twists, the ability of the people to be resilient, employed, fat and quite happy all seem like paradoxes. I think all truly ancient places have this quality. This place is amazing and everyone should come here to learn from it.

So? Will I stay? "Maybe", I would always tell myself, since amidst chaos, grime, soot, smog, & violence, the quality of life here can be extraordinary - don't mind four-hour lunches, truly relaxing weekends, a thriving folk culture and year-round 75° weather. And the rollercoaster of fulfillment, excitement, betrayal, privilege, gluttony and emptiness churned forth. Am I constantly on vacation? Yes, yes I am. Am I safe? Well, I don't know. Am I happy? Very happy! Am I so frustrated I want to do something drastic? Yes all the time! Am I a better person to expect that nothing works, to dishonor the concept of time entirely, to fall into avoidance of ownership, accountability, and neuroticism? I think yes, for a while, but I may have been damaged by it, too. This much acceptance may lead to a disappointing life in a bubble. It's been easy in some ways and hard in others. Everything seems accidental and entitled simultaneously, somehow. Nothing, good or bad, feels deserved because the world is much wilder and unpredictable and uncontrollable and sneakier than any individual can take credit for. Rewards and setbacks feel stumbled upon. Mexico is the real wonderland.

I will leave Mexico not truly because there are no opportunities here, nor because it is too dangerous (though it is), nor because nothing works (though it doesn't), because the people are good and the profits are good and the live-to-live attitude is inspiring (though it is). I will leave Mexico because I need seasons; something to track progress by. I need to go on a quest for role models who think much bigger than me and work on their own. I have so much openness right now, it may be the perfect time to exploit it.

Where will I end up? Uf, in a city by the sea, I'm sure. Worldly but humble at last, traveled, eccentric, full of raw passion, raw art materials, raw foods and cobblestone streets. Somewhere where I can talk to people often and much; somewhere where I can eat slowly and open a book and not get up for a while.