It's a Party in Monterrey

Though I arrived at the Monterrey Municipal Airport with high hopes, doubts lingered in my mind, like, "Will I fit in socially? Will I be able to make friends?" I took a cab from the airport and saw the city for the first time. The driver pointed to our right, and there I saw Cerro de la Silla, the icon of Monterrey. I couldn't believe I was moving here without knowing a soul! To make matters worse, the burritos I had just eaten were causing problems in my digestive system, and I longed for a home-cooked meal. Just when I felt overwhelmed, however, the driver changed the radio station, and the Eagles song was on! Allow me to restate this fact to emphasize it's importance: the Eagles song was on.

Without thinking twice, I found myself dancing in the taxi, with my hands above my head, and all my nervousness was gone. My head was nodding, as if to say, "Yes!", my hips swaying, as if to express confidence and enjoyment. With my hands up in the air, and the music filling the air, I realized that everything would be alright--it's a party in Monterrey.

A few days later, I arrived at a party with hundreds of local students. I had previously been unaware of the cultural norms in Mexico, and arrived in casual clothing unfit for a party of this nature. As I entered the room and saw everyone in their fine outfits, I could feel everyone noting my interesting style, and concluding that I was indeed foreign to the area. I attempted to meet some other students, but this proved to be more difficult without the support my "homies" have provided for me in social settings previously. This was no Provo party--all I could see were strange drinks and styles. Feeling out of place, I was about to return to my residence when I heard a familiar sound--the Bon Jovi song was on! The familiarity of the music unified me with those around me. The Bon Jovi song was on!

Again, I found myself lost in the moment; my hands high above my head, shouting and singing with my classmates, my troubles fleeing into the night. My head was nodding, as if to say, "Yes!", my hips swaying, as if to express confidence and enjoyment. With my hands up in the air, and the music filling the air, I realized that everything would be alright--it's a party in Monterrey.

Monterrey

Though I'm having one heck of a time down here, the sight of Utah's canyons just calls to my soul. I've got wanderin' bones, but there's no doubt that the West is my home. I just feel right where I belong in that gritty red rock and feelin' that dry Utah breeze. And while I adorn my Ipod with all breeds of music, the refrains of the old west sing to me like nothing else. When I hear Gordon Lightfoot or the Sons of the San Juaquin, I feel like I just came in from playing in the snow and can smell mama's vegetable stew.

Well, Utah aside, what a time it's been down here! In Monterrey, I:

• am teaching free english and guitar lessons
• have become a regular member of the hiking club
• play basketball in the park by my apartment
• only study the day before tests

And the best is yet to come, that's for sure. Learning a language is challenging, but there's no feeling like hearing yourself rattle off your thoughts in a strange tounge. I love it. At this point (March '10) I can converse very well one on one, but I don't usually catch a lot of what locals say to eachother. But that's normal. Oh man I love it.

Starting a social life from scratch in a new culture sure has its ups and downs (as life anywhere does). To get yourself into the culture you have to be persistantly extroverted, or you end up living in the country without being noticed. It can make you feel so awkward and out of place, and want nothing more than to go back to where you are understood and known and loved. But more than that, it brings blossoming friendships, engaging converstations, and the discovery of a new world. You have those moments when all the hard work pays off, like when you're in deep in conversation with Mariana Fernandez over candlelight at a salsa club, in pure beautiful Spanish. Wahoo!!

Last night I was teaching my good friend Erika some guitar in a park by a river. It had just rained, the moon was rising, and we were all alone on a bench on the pier. The songs of Alanis Morisette filled the air, and we were having a grand old time, when all of a sudden, the music was interuppted by a thundering chant from the river: "BE-SO! BE-SO! BE-SO! BE-SO!" I turned to see about 30 middle-aged men putting by in a boat, pounding their fists on the aluminum and chanting at us. You see, "beso" means "kiss her!" The crowd erupted as I laid a fat one on her rosy Mexican cheek. Oh, Mexico! I fit right in here.

On blogging

In the name of personal expression, entertainment, and just keeping in touch, I, James Alexander de los Santos Rodriguez Marshall, am proud to present my first-ever blog, Musings of a Mexican Bluebird. I pledge my best efforts to make it worth your time.