I was only a Peace Corps Volunteer for three months. I gave all my efforts to the role, but shortly after I arrived in Mexico I started having intense gastrointestinal issues that would not give up, no matter how strongly I fought.
For those who are unaware of how the Peace Corps timeline works, each Volunteer spends ten weeks in Pre-Service Training, and once the Volunteer completes training they are sworn in and spend the next two years in their permanent communities. I spent about a month of my ten week training period fighting an awful parasite. I pushed through this, telling myself the food would be different when I got to my permanent housing site. I owed it to myself and my community to attempt to stay healthy in site. However, only one week into my official service I began to feel ill again. This time was much more intense than what I felt during training. I became fearful of all the foods I ate, afraid the next meal would make me even more sick. I had to make the incredibly difficult decision to terminate my service early.
After only two weeks at site, I was back in beautiful Querétaro, filling out the paperwork to end my service. I assumed that after such a short service I would not feel that affected by the experience I had just had.
I was wrong.
Coming home, I can quickly tell that this has been the most altering experience of my life. I do not say that lightly. After three months in Mexico, I’ve felt more culture shock in one day than I felt in the many months after I returned from a full year living in Spain.
I often think of the many instances where I was met with incredible kindness from the locals in my host country. My busy host parents in Querétaro sat at the kitchen table with me every night, discussing everything from the latest drama on Casa de Los Famosos to the intricate and subtle difference between Mexican and American culture. My host family in my community bought the bread from every neighboring village when I came to visit before making my permanent move just for me to try, and then altered their entire diet in an attempt to make me feel better once I started to feel ill again. I hugged almost every member of the Peace Corps Staff on my way out, because every single one of them was so kind to me even in my lowest moments, showing me the best of their culture every single day. The students that lived in the historic house with me welcomed me with open arms, asking me about life in the USA, seeking me out on campus, offering to order me taxis back from the university after school events, and personally walking me to the pharmacy when my host parents were away for the evening.
Mexican culture quickly captured my heart. I woke up each Sunday to the cobblestone streets filled with vendors from the surrounding communities, selling everything from meat to makeup to tupperware. Each morning, I sat on the picnic table outside my house and sipped on delicious coffee as every passerby stopped to talk with my host father and I. One evening on a walk through the stunning mountainscape, I stopped at a bridge over a waterfall. A local woman walked up to me, and when I told her I was a new English teacher at the local university, she opened her bag and gave me a handful of platanos from her farm. I was incredibly moved creating altars for Día de Los Muertos, and ran through the streets of the city to watch the Independence Day parade that went on for hours and hours. A piece of my heart was left in this stunning country, and I know I will return to collect the bits of it many times in the future, staying in the guest rooms of the many wonderful people I had the privilege to know.
I came in indifferent to the idea of forming relationships with my fellow Volunteers. If I made some friends that would be nice, but I was much more interested in the relationships I could form with locals. My thought process was that if I wanted American friends, I could’ve just stayed in the states. My cohort absolutely blew me away. I’ve never met such a diverse group of people. Many times, the only things we had in common were our nationalities and our commitment to service. Despite that, I’ve never felt such a kinship with a group of people. Through long federally mandated presentations, afternoons playing poker with rocks as chips, and daily debriefs about our experiences in our new homes, we quickly became each other’s support system. When I told them all I made the decision to go home, I was flooded with dozens of kind messages that moved me to tears. I feel overwhelmingly proud to call them my friends, and hope we remain so for many years to come. They may be the best thing I got out of this experience.
My perspective of the USA has changed entirely. I’m overwhelmingly grateful for everything we are afforded as Americans. I feel incredibly blessed to drink the water straight from the tap. I’m blown away that there aren’t any seeds in the fruit, and I don’t need a special solution to wash the bacteria from my leafy greens. I’m shocked by the quantity and variety of produce in the local grocery store. The water pressure in my shower feels like I’m being pressure washed with a power tool. I get to pet my childhood dog, who has her own special food, a treat everyday, and her own spot on the couch. The United States faces very real, important issues, but I am incredibly lucky to live in a country with such a high standard of living. A country that can be competitive and overly-individualistic, but is also full of opportunity and littered with abundance.
We asked our Training Manager during the last week of Pre-Service Training if it was hard to come home after his own service. He responded “Yes, but not because of anything physical. It was because you come back and everything is different, but nothing has changed except for you.” I feel that exact feeling now. After spending only one day with me, my mom told me “You’re different now. You’re so appreciative of everything. You’re like the spirit of Thanksgiving!”
My mom is right. I feel appreciative of every little thing. From the people and the culture of Mexico, to the people and culture right here at home. I feel grateful for my health. I feel relieved to be home, and sad to be away. I feel proud of myself for taking advantage of the little time I got to spend in Mexico. I knew that even though my contract said 27 months, none of us ever know when life will throw us a huge curveball. A huge curveball is what I ended up with this time around us. Nevertheless, I still fulfilled a dream a decade in the making to the best of my ability, and that is something to be proud of.
Most of all, I feel that I have left a project unfinished. Though I can not return to México in the immediate future, there are many ways to dedicate oneself to a life of service outside of the Peace Corps. I know that even within my own country, many people are not afforded the same luxuries I am. This country is full of its own challenges and opportunities for positive change. For the first time in a long time, I feel a calling deep within me to continue serving. No, I won’t be eating Tacos al Pastor while teaching English to Mexican 18 year olds (though in NYC, it’s very much a possibility), but I will find a way to continue my service here from my own country. Despite our borders and languages and cultures, we all share one planet and one humanity. I feel a responsibility to protect that humanity, as much as one singular person can.
During my exit interview, my Country Director’s last question to me was if I would recommend Peace Corps México. With a still rumbling stomach, I hesitantly said yes. I would like to revise my answer.
Would I recommend Peace Corps México? Yes. A million times yes. This experience has fundamentally altered who I am. I leave the Peace Corps a better version of myself. I am more aware of the world around me, more open and accepting of those who are different than me, and more grateful for the beautiful life I’ve been given. I feel a sense of purpose in my desire to continue serving the people in the communities around me, and am completely unwavered by the fact that I have no idea how I’ll do that yet. I came home with the same suitcase, filled with the same clothes, but everything has changed.
Or maybe it’s just me.