It was my last night in the city and I couldn't sleep. I probably would've nodded off eventually, but the "band" practice going on next door left my nerves fried and my idea of a good nights sleep shattered. Just like a first date or a Chinese buffet there's something about returning home that always leaves my stomach tingling. Home is great, but it's also the embodiment of stress. So the thought of having to leave this laid back and beautiful city bummed me out to no end.
As I ambled my way towards downtown I started to feel the energy that I found so unique to Queretaro. The walk towards al Centro is invigorating, being just long enough to build up the anticipation. The light was also fascinating, on the onset of my journey everything is shadows and sleepy townhouses, but as I get nearer and nearer to the vibrant center of town, the light built around me. I felt like a miner, who's finally emerging into the fresh air. The night air felt full of the life that dominated Centro Historico at this late hour. The bustle engulfs and cocoons me in it subtle energy. The one last stop is the cigar shop I passed every morning and evening as I walked too and from my classes and home. It was always closed to the world, old steel bars covering the door and deflecting the keen observers interest. But tonight was a night of finality and maturity, which to my young mind meant a big cigar and a long walk.
Even in a country without a smoking age there is something satisfying about buying tobacco when you're still young. Youth nourishes rebellion, and even something relatively silly like a comically large cigar holds it's own rebellious appeal. As I walked out of the store puffing my cigar I stopped by the fountain and soaked up the night. Mexican cities are nothing like white bread Petoskey, the night is lively with people crowding every street and the sounds of eating, drinking, and merrymaking floating on the warm breeze like so many leaves falling from a great tree of merriment. I walked to el Jardin Zenia (a large garden/park/plaza area) and sat down, enjoying the rich nutty flavor of the cigar and absorbing the second hand energy a vibrant city creates. Children were throwing toys in the air and screams and laughter mingled in the air like nervous dancers.
It's about now that I realize how long it's been since I heard English. Spanish is an elusive lover, I'm seduced by it all day long, yet it consistently escapes my full comprehension. I've been wrapped in the language for the last three weeks, and now it's time to "disrobe" as it were and re-embrace my native English tongue. So I listened to the general hum of quiet voices like a devoted nun to their priest, with reverence and awe, trying to capture the music in the words before they fade in my memory. Queretaro has been a gracious host, one that asks for naught and supports continual mistakes on my part. Even when I was lost or depressed, the city provided. The people with an infinite patience and my teachers with infinite wit have come together to help me fall in love with this spoiled colonial throwback of a town. I have lost myself to that night in Queretaro, and I only hope I can return to continue the search.
