Connections

We didn't have power at home for more than 24 hours... the most frustrating thing to come home to when you are sick and leave work early with the hope of getting some rest! But some fun came out of it too... like a midnight drive to India Gate for ice cream since it was too hot and sticky for either Mom or me to fall asleep. Still, it's a relief to have the power back-- how dependent we've become!

So, I'm working on an essay about random moments of connection for an earth charter thingy. As I brainstormed and wrote drafts, I realized something rather weird: all the most beautiful moments of connection with strangers that I could think of happened in Mexico. The old gentleman in the metro who chatted with me about his country and mine, then bought me VCDs about Aztec and Mayan cultures so that I could get a better sense of Mexican history. The wonderful little children and women in Zoatecpan. The lady in Ciudad de Puebla who I was buying a pair of earrings from... we began chatting, and she was so happy to meet someone from so far away working with her people that she presented me a little white pendant "para que nos recuerdes" ("so you remember us"). And then, Alfredo, the young man who sold beautiful little carved leather pulseras (bracelets?)... he asked me a question about India, I replied, and we ended up sitting down for a 2 hour long chat, during which he told me all kinds of things about his life, his profession, his frustrations, his friends, and god-knows-what-else in the middle of the Sunday bazaar! I never saw, heard from, or met any of these people again, but they are forever a part of my memories and of me. Why is it, though, that every single one of these happened in Mexico? I want to connect that beautifully, that deeply, with random strangers everywhere, but somehow it doesn't happen, not even in my own country. What is it about Mexico that embraced me so fully, that tugs me back so strongly? I wonder if I'll ever know.