The imminent end

So I leave Mexico on Saturday.

I want to go home and see my friends and family, but I don't want to leave. This place, even with all it's flaws, is so wonderful and fucking awesome and I feel at home here. It feels like so long ago that I arrived, that the five of us went on our trip to Monte Alban and took the most awkward photo on the face of the planet (above), not touching each other or anything, and then the next group photo (a whole forty-five minutes later) with our arms round each other, looking as friendly as can be. There are five copies on that super-awkward photo, one on each of our cameras.

Going on trips to foreign countries with a large group, I've done before. And you feel really close, but they only last 10 days, or 20 days, and then you send messages on Facebook occasionally but essentially forget about them. But you realize how superficial that is when you have a three-month long experience to compare it to. I think it's impossible to share a trip like this one with four other girls and not actually remain friends.

It's strange to think about the life I'll be going back to; how quickly it will seem normal again. How even if I wanted to recapture this trip, I never could, not even by coming back here.

What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico.