The sun sets on the plane's wing as we approach Oaxaca. I had two weeks before I needed to begin my journey West in order to get to Los Angeles to start my internship on time. I thought about heading North, to see Montana, Idaho, the Dakotas. I thought of heading straight to California to spend extra time wandering down the coast. But there was another longing I wanted to attend to, one last gem. I always wanted to have that junior year abroad. I wanted to learn a language other than my own.
It made sense to study Spanish. My internship was at a county hospital in LA and I would need it. I knew of a good school in Oaxaca, one I discovered two years earlier when I went there on a class trip to study curanderismo, traditional Mexican healing.
But there was another reason I chose Oaxaca, something I couldn't get out of my mind. It was the dream I had last Spring. The one that carried me, that I turned to and trusted in the moments on this trip where I felt lost, when things did not make sense. The dream where I saw the Virgin of Juquila from the window of the city bus.
No comments:
Post a Comment