Guanajuato and the Art of Unlearning
"The water gleamed, the sky burned with gold, but all was rich and dim, and his eyes fed upon it undazzled and unaching. The very names of green and gold, which he used perforce in describing the scene, are too harsh for the tenderness, the muted iridescence, of that warm, maternal, delicately gorgeous world. It was mild to look upon as evening, warm like summer noon, gentle and winning like early dawn. It was altogether pleasurable." — C. S. Lewis Perelandra
This past weekend, the three other Atlacomulco TA's and I headed on our first, long weekend trip. Our destination: León and Guanajuato.
Now, I have had the incredible privilege to have traveled quite a lot. There's nothing particularly out of the ordinary about hopping on a car, plane, or (in this case) bus for 4.5 hours to explore a totally new place. There's nothing particularly out of the ordinary, either, about admiring marvelous churches, or eating new foods, or wandering through museums.
This trip, though, was a bit different. Usually, taking photos and photos and photos is also a perfectly ordinary part of my travels. I think that's just fine. I even think that I, more than most people, really do go back to and enjoy looking at my photos, especially because I have moved so much. But as I stood in front of the Expiatorio in León on Friday, I didn't really feel like reaching for my phone. I did snap some pics eventually (mostly out of guilt), but the pictures I captured don't begin to do justice to what it was like to be there, at that amazing church. You can't see the minute details that are carved into the facade. You can't experience how very, very small you feel when you are right near the building. You can't appreciate how weird it is that the church looks light pinkish at night and dark pinkish in daytime by just scrolling through my photos.
In fact, the whole weekend was absolutely full of gorgeous, breathtaking moments that my iPhone just can't handle. I don't know how I never thought about how different the street sounds when you step inside of a huge, empty church and listen to cars passing by. From the bridge in León, I snapped some pics of the road/ river/ love locks that threaten the bridge's structural stability, but they're not nearly as worth-looking-at as the actual view was. When we took the funicular up to one of the lookouts of the multi-level city that is Guanajuato, I did take pictures (and a cool video, see below). The view is incredible, but like one of the passages from Perelandra— which is also one of my favorite passages in literature—my words don't really describe how pleasant it was. Neither do my pictures.
And my favorite moment of the weekend is much lamer as the lock screen of my smartphone than it is as a memory. Just after Sunday Mass, I stopped at a restaurant on the plaza for a quick breakfast. The street that was overflowing with people the day before was almost empty. A busker came by and serenaded me with his acoustic guitar. My huevos rancheros were absolutely perfect, as was the warm roll that was included with breakfast. I found myself humming "La Vie en Rose" (because that's what you do when you're at a Parisian-style restaurant) only to be interrupted by the song actually playing from the restaurant next door. All the while, I had a perfect view of the Basilica.
I did take one picture. Here it is. It's really unimpressive (and it doesn't include the great view).
I make a conscious effort to not overuse my phone. I like to think of myself as an observant person. I hardly ever take pictures of my coffee (although I do, sometimes). But my time in the state of Guanajuato this weekend has taught me that I have more to unlearn.
I want to unlearn the belief that pictures can really capture your travels or experiences, whether you are in a city that is as lovely and inviting as Guanajuato or not. I want to unlearn the instinct to reach for my camera immediately upon seeing something beautiful, because I won't be able to just look at the picture later and appreciate that moment's full beauty. I will take more pictures, of course, and I will appreciate having them, but I want to do a better job of enjoying the moments that lead up to those photos.
I really think that living in a much slower environment has helped me. My fellow non-Mexican friends and I have noticed the difference in expectations about timeframes and punctuality in Mexico v. the USA (for example). My whole experience with adjusting to "Mexican time" might be for a different post. Already, though, I am appreciating what this change of pace has taught me. I am looking forward to many more learning and unlearning moments for the remainder of my time here.
Before I go, I can't post from the State of Mexico without mentioning the earthquake from this past week. The fact that I can write about my week at all shows how lucky I am to have been unaffected by the horrific devastation that so many people suffered on Tuesday. It's easier to help when you're nearby, so I'm not sure of the best way to send help when you are in another country. This site has some recommendations that may be useful if you're interested in sending help. Either way, please do keep the people of my area in your thoughts and prayers.
