It’s been over five years since I’ve posted here. There have been many, many trips in between now and then but I hadn’t felt particularly inspired to set anything down about any of them. But this trip is a little different. We’ve decided to spend a month abroad but in just one place—Mexico City.

We were here before, almost exactly four years ago, visiting a friend who worked for the UN High Commission on Refugees and who’s posting put her here for several years. By the time we arrived, she’d been here a bit and knew the city quite well, so we definitely benefited from her knowledge. Not having to parse a guide book to figure out where to go, where to eat, what to do? Skipping the tourist traps? No doubt her tips contributed to the fact that we kind of fell in love with the place. I’m pretty sure we made immediate plans to come back within a year. And then—COVID.

It took us four years but we’re back. Our friend has been posted to Brussels, so while we have lists of places to eat and things to do, we’re also solo this time. And technically, we’re trying to do things a bit differently. Instead of straight up tourists, we’re going to live here for a bit. Which is nothing revolutionary—walk down any of the streets in the neighborhood where we’re staying and you’ll find expat gringos at every coffee shop, bar, and taco stand. And this isn’t new, either—Americans have been coming to Mexico to live for centuries. Who can blame them? Cheaper, nicer weather, good food, diversity, rich history and culture—sign me up.

But despite all this, it’s interesting to inhabit one place for an extended period of time. I think every time I’ve spent more than a week abroad, it’s either been for school or on some sort of whirlwind trip through multiple places. I haven’t picked one city, one apartment, and just lived there, as an adult, with no syllabus or itinerary dictating what I do. It involves the mundane tasks of going to the grocery store to buy breakfast staples and trying to find cleaning supplies. And while there will be some sight-seeing, I’ll be spending the mornings doing work. It feels easier in some ways—not so pressed for time—but also harder, because I don’t have a sense of routine.

It’s been a bit eye-opening to realize how much I’ve gotten used to my life at home. The grocery store is straightforward. I know where to get anything I might need. I know what to eat to make my stomach feel ok. I can do a regular exercise routine. My bed is my bed. And here, I’m having to learn to adapt, (um, there’s no bowls) which is a skill that I think many of us forget as we get more settled into our ways. As we get old, I guess I should say.

I also don’t have very good Spanish language skills—I’ve been taking online lessons for weeks now but being confronted with actual, living, spoken Spanish made me realize how woefully inadequate my abilities are. I speak at a patchwork, preschool level. I struggle to ask for things (especially politely). It’s sometimes humiliating and always humbling. I hope to get better but there’s just enough English around that it makes it hard. But there’s also just enough Spanish that everything is somewhat of a challenge.

So that’s part of what this particular adventure is all about. It’s not, perhaps, as adventurous as a rail trip across Russia, or visiting a wildlife reserve in Mozambique. But it’s an experience that I hope will stretch me in different ways and get me back into the habit of adapting (that might be an oxymoron).