Re-Connections

Today I was reacquainted with two very old and dear friends, who I haven't seen in a very long time. Too long. Their names are Mexico and Theatre.

There's a feeling you get in certain situations; sometimes it's an event, sometimes it's a place, sometimes it's a group of people. You breathe deeper, you hear more clearly, you take in more of the world around you, your heart makes its presence known with a sort of buzzing warmth that can't be ignored. It's the feeling of home. Today's trip to Tijuana was that. It was my first Latin American / Non-U.S. experience since Ecuador, and my first time to "TJ" since spring break last year. I love Mexico. My adventures around South America were incredible, and I was comfortable, and I would go back in a heartbeat (or maybe two...enough time to put my shoes on...), but it didn't feel the same. Mexico has a smell. And a feel. I wish I could explain it better, but some things you just know.

But I digress...

One more note on Mexico, actually. People keep asking me if there's a part of Ecuadorian culture that I miss. I have a confession:

I miss the language.

I miss it more than anything else.

Weirdo.

After crossing back over the border (where vendors were selling "Steelers" and "Packers" blankets in preparation for tomorrow. Feel free to pause and philosophize about cultural crossover here. ) I went to the closing performance of Doubt on campus. I can't remember the last time I went to a play. It hasn't been that long, but the fact that I can't remember still says something. Regardless, it's now official. I am a goner for the magic of the theatre. Don't anybody tell Mr. Turner. It wasn't until a few scenes in, after catching myself getting excited about the lighting technique, that I realized how bad of a goner I am. We're talking hook, line, and sinker. The blocking, the set, the dialog, the costumes. All of it, I drank it in like a fish.

Again, weirdo.

I won't get in to the finer-details of the plot, so as not to ruin it for anyone else, but there was one part of the storyline that particularly got me. Google informs me that it's actually an old parable, but I like it anyway. It goes something like this:

One day a woman was gossiping with a friend. Feeling guilty, she went to her priest to confess. He heard her confession, and then as a penitence he told her to go home, take a pillow, go up to the roof, cut the pillow open, and return. So the woman did as she was told. The priest then instructed her to go back home and gather every feather that had scattered from the pillow. "But father," she protested, " that would be impossible. They've flown to the four winds!" "Ah," said he, "So it is with gossip."

Hmmmmm...