As I side stepped my ways through the dark alleys of Mexico City, I wondered, was I going to be okay? I’d just graduated college but the idea of sitting in an office all day made my insides turn. So, in an act of rebellion, I packed my bags and moved to Mexico for a teaching job in Michoacan. Until then I would be here, in vibrant Mexico City with nothing but a backpack slung over my shoulder. I wiped the tears mixed with rain from my cheeks, straightened up, and made my way towards my destination.
After escaping a maze of colorful buildings with chipping paint and half eroded silver gates, I found myself knocking on my hostel door. Thunder boomed in the background as the door eerily creaked open, making me feel like I was in a cliche horror movie. The receptionist and I exchanged pleasantries and she led me down corridors full of naked cherub statues and pictures of fruit. I thanked her as I plopped down my backpack, thinking about the small size of my room but also admiring its beauty. The walls went from a white to a faded blue almost like ocean foam. To my left a wardrobe much too big for such a tiny room and to my right, a bed covered with a traditional quilt.