Dark

Amongst all the cosmic bliss, there are dark days. Days where I have stood, clothing drenched with sweat, at the bottom of 10 flights of stairs up to my apartment and thought, when's the next plane out? Days where loneliness aches. Days worry rears its head. Days an evil voice hisses what do you think you're doing here?

Or nights where you wake up, your chest clenched and heart racing. I'd had a round of tropical respiratory voodoo and self-treated with antibiotics recommended by the pharmacist. Turns out they were the wrong ones, at the wrong dose. Sometimes traditional medicine - something I don't put much stock in - does help.

That night, I felt so dizzy and out of it, I thought I might be severely dehydrated. I called the only person I knew to call - Jose, the building manager - and asked him where I should go. He said he would come and take me to the doctor. As this was happening, my gringo neighbors came back from a late night of partying. They asked me what was wrong and when I told them, replied, "Well, there's a hospital right up the street. Try drinking water." Their door clanged shut.

Note to self: when you encounter a neighbor who is sick and disoriented, help the person!

The dark moment showed me what I've already seen here: that Mexicans embrace you as family, if you're willing to hold out your arms to them.