Viva La Vida: Why you should move to Mexico

by Rachel Bakich (Taiwan)

A leap into the unknown Mexico

As I side stepped my ways through the dark alleys of Mexico City, I wondered, was I going to be okay? I’d just graduated college but the idea of sitting in an office all day made my insides turn. So, in an act of rebellion, I packed my bags and moved to Mexico for a teaching job in Michoacan. Until then I would be here, in vibrant Mexico City with nothing but a backpack slung over my shoulder. I wiped the tears mixed with rain from my cheeks, straightened up, and made my way towards my destination. After escaping a maze of colorful buildings with chipping paint and half eroded silver gates, I found myself knocking on my hostel door. Thunder boomed in the background as the door eerily creaked open, making me feel like I was in a cliche horror movie. The receptionist and I exchanged pleasantries and she led me down corridors full of naked cherub statues and pictures of fruit. I thanked her as I plopped down my backpack, thinking about the small size of my room but also admiring its beauty. The walls went from a white to a faded blue almost like ocean foam. To my left a wardrobe much too big for such a tiny room and to my right, a bed covered with a traditional quilt. The next morning, I woke up to the roosters crowing at an ungodly hour, but I didn’t care, I was in Mexico ready to start my new life! I jumped up and put on a bright yellow skirt with a tank and headed out the door for my morning coffee. I pushed open the doors and the sounds of motorcycles and Mariachi music filled the air. Starving, I sat down at a small cafe and ate an overstacked plate of Churros and washed down bits of cinnamon with coffee. First on my list was the “La Casa Azul,” better known as Frida Kahlo’s house. I rolled up my sleeve to show a tattoo of Frida Kahlo’s famous unibrow on my forearm, showing my immense love and admiration for la artista. Frida’s house was everything I had imagined it would be, but so much more. The walls are soaked in a deep blue with orange and red flowers scattered in the front. The colors were so vivid, so unreal, I ended up spending two hours carousing the hallways alone. The walls were decorated with her portraits and glass encased her outrageous outfits full of butterflies and feathers. Walking in my idol’s steps left me feeling traces of her passion and reassuring my decision to move here. I left the museum and headed to my next destination, lunch. Let me just say, the food was my favorite part of Mexico. Everywhere I went came with a handsome man in the back playing his guitar as I shoved loads of cheesy tortillas into my mouth. “Mi Amor,” he would purr, as cheese would drip out down my mouth and onto my plate. After lunch, I stepped outside to find a parade of people in line, dancing to offbeat drums. Locals and tourists alike were waiting to be blessed by an indegnious group here in Mexico and of course, I jumped in on the excitement. When my turn finally came, I tossed in a few pesos as the man spun me around two times. He stopped me and I got a good look at the red stripes that painted his face, he flicked some water on me, hollered and blessed me with burning sage. I left the line, not exactly feeling holy but still a very cool experience, to stay the least. As the sun set and I headed back to my hostel, I felt really proud of myself. I took this leap and pursued the dream of an adventurous life. Although I had many doubts about moving to Mexico alone, I pushed through anyways. In the end, I left Mexico City with a new confidence in who I was and what I wanted. A dangerous leap into the unknown helped me shape who I am today, a girl still clutching onto her backpack.