raindrops keep falling on my head.

the city
a place of a million hidden magical corners
of cracks and flowers growing in them
of dirty looks
of lusty stares
of sparkling eyes
it will all soon be a memory of something i once tried to understand.

it is the moments that i have spent alone downtown or on buses around this city, liberated by ordinary adventure, that i cherish most of my time here. the hours I have spent, consciously and not, searching for music in the hustling and bustling, in the trudging, barefoot and slow.
the way i can sit on a bench and within moments of sitting down, watch poems write themselves in the dust beneath the feet of men in business suits
of children in rags
and of their eyes when they meet

the city
to say, "it takes some getting used to" might be close to describing how I feel.
this description, however, implies a possibility of being able to get used to this crazy place, which I am not sure is true. there seems to me an impossibility in being accustomed to the sensational architecture, those who constantly sweep the sidewalks, the venders selling everything from chickens to fake ipods...

and the men
just when I think I am used to the everyday cat-calls, or the deviousness of guadalajaran taxi-drivers, or eyes watching my every move (because i am most certainly not mexican looking)- something happens and I am left unsettled. walking down the street the other day a group of men tried to get the attention of myself and two of my friends by hurting a dog. I could hear them laughing, and the screams of a suffering dog- and inside I felt my blood start to curdle. i felt so small- like a weak woman against the sneers of lewd men.

i was on a bus going home from the airport where I dropped off my friend Emily and this man in the seat beside me would not stop looking over at me, just staring for the whole 40 minute drive.. getting beneath my skin in the worst way...

this morning a man grabbed my hand flirtingly demanding that I tell him my name- and I did so he would let me go. The other day a taxi driver was absolutely ridiculous trying to charge the equivalent of 30 dollars for a ride... AHHHH!

ive never understood what it means to be blinded by anger but my anger my certainly takes hold of my heart, mind, and tongue in these situations. always I want to politely break these strange inhumane connections by assuming the best of that person and starting a friendly conversation, but sometimes i feel that if I open my mouth I will say something in anger, or I will get myself in a situation I don't want to be in.

yet, at other times, when i do happen to stike up conversation (or indulge in the conversation these men are so desperately trying to begin), i feel myself becoming less of a goddess, and more of a human being- and that feels wonderfully relieving.

one of these such times was the morning of my 20th birthday when i was sitting alone in a park near downtown writing in my journal and a man came up and awkwardly began speaking to me. i decided that, since it was my birthday, i would be try to be exceptionally patient and open, so i invited him to sit with me. his name is esau. he is from monterrey. he and his girlfriend just broke up.

we chatted for quite some time and i discovered that he was just a lonely and bored guy, perhaps he secretly hoped to relieve his loneliness by picking up the "oh-so-exotic (not)" white girl, but in the moments we spent together none of that mattered. he seems a good man.

the city
oftentimes it is in silence that this city abuses me, amazes me, and confuses me. i let stares drive me crazy, i let the beauty of the shoe-shiner filled plazas stun me, and in places where there are crowds of people, i train my heart to be still. i sometimes ask myself if i am wasting my time and life as hours pass among crowds in the city, but then i think that there are worse things to spend one's time doing and that life is not meant to be rushed. im on mexican time.

for some, I feel that downtown is just another place of indifference- a place where those from their respective levels of society become even more accustomed to their situations, affluent or wealthy, that they become another one of hundreds of dull faced stranger on the road. i too am guilty of this thing.

the city
as I walk home I notice a naked baby sucking happily on a bottle while lying in a wooden crate at the side of the road.
I watch as his caretaker runs around, knocking on car windows, attempting to sell water to tired drivers waiting in traffic.

as i walk i notice an indigenous women and two little girls begging for money. i give her some sweet bread i have bought specifically for an encounter such as this, and instead of staring back indifferent like so many others sometimes do, she smiles gently, bringing tears to my eyes. the poverty here is gentle, is is harsh- it is so many things.

the city
is a bit funny right now with this swine flu.
everything is a bit frustrating
i tried to choose something fun to do for my birthday- hike in the bosque de la primavera- and it was closed (after taking a bus and cab farrrr out of the city we found out...).
second thing i tried to do was bike on the big road they close every sunday- also cancelled (after getting up at 630 am to try to get there early enough to rent bikes).
oh dearie
but still people rub shoulders (and exchange air?) in the streets and markets and restaurants and malls and...
weird
a bit more choas than normal

the city
is alive
it rained for the first time yesterday. the streets smelled fresh and earthy after.
it rained again today- i danced in the rain with my host sister Ivannia (10) and her niece Alexia (3?)
then sat and watched the thunder
the played escondieras- hide and seek

i've wanted to leave this place, for in some ways it has exhausted me,
but now the time is really coming and a part of me can't bear the thought

i leave thursday.