Ramblings from a travel lover

I saw a reel on Instagram the other day showing a crying guy–probably a scene from a movie–with a caption that said something along the lines of: me when I haven’t been to an airport in over a month. I chuckled and sent it to my sister who not only refrains from judging my obsession with travelling but also welcomes it. The only kind of bug I approve of is the travel bug, which I have successfully passed down to her and my parents. They’re great–my parents–but we were never the kind of family who would go abroad. Camping and road trips, yes. But actually flying somewhere, especially to another country… Well, that was never our thing. 

However, even though we never went as a family, individually I always had a craving to see other places. Essentially, I wanted to be anywhere else except in my hometown. I still despise it there, save for the trips to my grandma’s house. 

My mom and I sometimes laugh about how I was a little four year old who loved the movie Kangaroo Jack. She said it was my aunty who had it playing, and I took a strong liking to it, so much so that I started to watch it repeatedly. I obviously didn’t understand most of the movie, but what I did understand is that it mainly takes place in another country, Australia. Kangaroos? Planes? Rolling red hills that looked nothing like the prairies I was used to? Yes to all the above! I LOVED how different Australia seemed, prompting my obsession not just with this movie but also with the idea of travelling. 

I should rewatch the movie and see if I still like it. I’m not sure the storyline is that good or even made for kids; however, I am grateful for the snowball effect it created in my life. 

Little me yapped about travelling so much that when I got the opportunity to go abroad with my grandparents, I knew I wanted to go. Keep in mind, I was literally only four years and never spent much time with them, but I remember being sooooo excited. My parents were hesitant to let their kid leave the country without them, but they reluctantly agreed. So, off I went to Mexico, leaving the country for the very first time.

I remember so much of that trip despite it being 20 years ago. Sure, the pictures from my photo album help enhance some of the details, but I genuinely do remember walking on the beach, playing Jaws in the pool with my cousin, and being in the hotel room. I also have a vague memory of getting off the plane, hand-in-hand with my grandma, and getting on a shuttle bus that would take us closer to the airport. I also remember burying a little plastic doll in the sand, thinking I would find it later. Sorry for polluting. 

I went to Mexico again at 12 years old, this time with just my grandpa and a different cousin. That experience was fun, too. We went on a boat tour, ate good food, and saw lush, green landscapes. The coolest part? Going back to the same places I had been to many years prior. I no longer believed I could bury toys as though they were in a toybox. The pool wasn’t as big or deep as it had seemed at four years old (I also wasn’t being chased by my older cousin who wore shark goggles and would pretend to bite me if he caught me). I looked at everything with fresh and exciting eyes, falling in love more and more with travelling. 

I’ve been to Mexico over 20 times since then (that number shocks me TBH) and I still love it here. Call me cheesy, but I feel like I could have been from here in a past life. I don’t speak Spanish like a native (I’m trying, believe me) and there are still things that surprise and confuse me (why does everyone here think you’ll get sick if it rains outside?!?). However, I feel more like myself here, as though I found a missing piece from my puzzle of happiness. Don’t roll your eyes too much, please. I am just being candid, but I do think it’s true–feeling more complete in another country.

That’s not to say everything is perfect, either. I understand that there is a huge disparity between the wealthy and poor, for example. I understand that crime and violence do exist, particularly against women. 

I also know that, as a foreigner, my presence in Mexico has an impact, both positive and negative. The rise in remote workers and expats has contributed to housing struggles and gentrification, making it harder for many Mexicans to afford living in their own neighborhoods. I see a lot of discussion around this issue, and I think it’s important to acknowledge.

I create content about Mexico because I genuinely love this country and want to share what makes it so special. But I also try to be mindful; I make an effort to learn the history and customs, improve my Spanish, and understand the realities locals face. I also don’t live here full-time; I usually stay for a few weeks to a month at a time, visiting my boyfriend who is Mexican. My goal isn’t to encourage unchecked tourism or influxes of immigrants but to share my appreciation for Mexico in a respectful and thoughtful way.

It’s really conflicting to see comments on big influencers’ posts from Mexicans saying things like “go home, gringo.” I am not well-known, so I have not received comments like that and I do understand the frustration from Mexicans behind it, but it’s disheartening to see how this issue has created such a divide.

I also think the real issue lies with corporations and wealthy investors who buy up properties, turn them into overpriced Airbnbs, and push out local businesses. That’s where the real harm comes from. I recommend watching this video here. 

I am far from rich, but I know I come from a place of privilege that many will never even witness solely because I can travel, so I want to make sure I am mindful of these issues. Sure, I have a s**t ton of debt from credit cards to student loans and I cannot even fathom buying my own house at this stage of my life, but my biggest issue is not where I will get my next meal or what roof I will have over my head. I live with my parents right now and am in university, trying to set myself up for a good life where I can decide to live abroad if that is what I want. 

Anyway, I am currently in Mexico right now, sitting at a table where I just ate enchiladas de mole (yum!). I had this random urge to pull out my laptop and start writing, letting my words guide me. I LOVE making content on Wander and Words, but I sometimes feel like most of what I make sucks. It sounds cringy to call myself a perfectionist, especially since I am the biggest type B person ever, but when it comes to sharing stuff with others, I guess I am. Plus, I feel nervous to get judged by others, especially people I know in real life. Buuut, I am trying to overcome those nerves and just share what I want to share. Millions of other people do!  

Maybe I will turn my ramblings into a little monthly series on this blog. Wander and Words’ online journal, perhaps?!?

P.S. I fulfilled little me’s wish of going to Australia thanks to my amazing mother. At 15 years old, she paid for me to go to New Zealand, Australia, and Hawaii with a local travel club for teens, making me the happiest teen ever. I am so happy she is not a traveller, too! Love you, mom.