Looking at my overflowing suitcase, I reasoned that there was no more room to fit my bikinis. I had to sacrifice something; a girl cannot go to Mexico without her bikinis! Grudgingly, I took out my hairdryer and two pairs of jeans. I tried to convince myself that the humid climate would not allow for their usage anyways. Sleep that night came sparingly accompanied by visions of blue skies, piña coladas, and glistening swimming pools. The six hour flight was well worth the wait. The week was spent soaking up the late-spring Mexico sun, eating at the various resort restaurants, and participating in the nightly activities organized by the resort employees. At sixteen, it was my first trip away from my family and yet homesickness seemed to be left at home with my hairdryer and jeans. That is, until I visited the actual city of Cancun.
The precarious taxi ride to the small city was foreboding in its own right; however, coupled with the runway of decrepit buildings and colorful graffiti was enough to expedite my anxiety levels. My friends and I fortunately had the refuge of my friend’s mother to keep us safe in the crowded streets. This city was unlike any I had seen before. The road was made of uneven stones and stores were compacted together in cell like dwellings. Merchandise was displayed in front of each store: scarves, traditional Mexican garb, jewelry, and other trinkets. We weaved through the throng of tourists and locals, avoiding the catcalls that were directed towards us. Men whistled, stared, and pointed at us three young blondes. Initially, the attention was humorous, but as the harassment continued we instinctively drew together to avoid separation from the group. We had left our sanctuary of our resort and had landed in the middle of a totally foreign experience.
As we continued to apprehensively wander around the streets of the city, we did check out what the stores had to offer. Perhaps the most interesting part of the experience was bargaining with a store owner to achieve reasonable prices at a jewelry shop. I have never had to bargain before as I have been accustomed to paying the full, assigned price for American goods. The deal we reached was much lower than the original price. Was this a ploy to rip off oblivious tourists? These Mexican customs were perplexing to me. I could not understand why goods could not be priced reasonably or why these older men were acting so inappropriate towards us. I could not help but feel a malevolent presence in this city, an underlying feeling of taking advantage of easy targets like us tourists. I did not feel safe and longed to return to my sheltered life in Massachusetts. It was a relief to get back in the tiny taxi and speed back to the hotel.
Reflecting back on this experience three years later, I am still wrought with anxiety over those few hours spent in Cancun. Perhaps I simply did not and still do not understand the culture of this city. Has my American upbringing made me ignorant to other cultures? Regardless of the answer to that question, I do not think that I will be returning to the city of Cancun Mexico any time soon. The clustered streets and questionable practices of Cancun may not be enticing to me, but the exposure to this culture was a growing experience and a major reason that I am curious to explore urban culture around the world.
0 comments:
Post a Comment