It didn’t really feel real, leaving Mexico—it finally hit me when I stood in the George Bush International Airport customs line in Houston, and I realized that I could actually understand what everyone was saying around me (“I don’t feel dumb anymore!” I said to my grandma), and that I realized I wasn’t going to be back for a while.
I felt embarrassed, but I was on the verge of tears leaving for the airport. My host family hugged me goodbye in their pajamas (it was still pretty early in the morning), and I managed to look back only once. Luckily, I was sharing a car with my good friend, whom I had met just six weeks before, and whom I’m now planning future visits with; and the sheer incredulity of the situation just hit me as I wrote this out. How lucky am I that I can say this?
I’ve always been pretty sentimental, which I found within myself again: I ended up stealing my “Bienvenida Adri” poster from my room. I have no idea where I’ll put it, but I felt better having a piece of my time in Mexico with me. I miss everything about Mexico. Strangely, I didn’t feel homesick the entire time I was there—part of this can be attributed to my amazing host parents, who became like a third set of grandparents to me, and to the new friends I made on this trip. Leaving hurt more than I thought it would, although I was pretty excited to eat something new.
When I arrived, I was worried I wouldn’t connect to my host family or that my language abilities wouldn’t improve, which was kind of the whole point of the program. I remember landing in Querétaro, completely terrified, exhausted, and determined not to take my trip for granted. Not only did I succeed in my goals, I believe I succeeded. I got good grades in all my classes, had a great relationship with my host family, and left feeling like I only wished for more time there. Luckily for me, half of my family speaks Spanish as a primary language, so my transition back to the States was gradual and showed me just how much I’ve improved. Multiple times, my family would look at me and say (in Spanish, obviously), “Isn’t it amazing that we can all speak this language right now?” which was the whole point.
I guess a study abroad in Mexico wasn’t all that adventurous for me, since half my family’s from Mexico, and I’ve been there once before. I think, like a lot of mixed kids, I chose this country to sort of dedicate a pilgrimage to this part of my identity. I felt like if the chile stained my fingers red enough, maybe I’d feel like I fit this slightly-too-big shoe. This trip helped affirm some of that, and it also showed me what’s really important: my own curiosity to learn, to grow, to realize that this trip never would have “made” me Mexican enough—what mattered was going back home, saying hello to my grandparents in Spanish, having entire conversations with them without missing a beat, and realizing that trip through my own self-identity wasn’t found out in Querétaro, but in myself. Although the language classes really did help.
Adri Jolie, Diverse Ducks Ambassador
Mexican Studies and Spanish Immersion in Querétaro
