Mexico

There is so much I could say about Mexico, but I don't know where to start. I could talk about how the mountains were beautiful and the garbage was not. I could talk about the old 1960's bugs that are everywhere and how every city has its own color of them (Pachuca..white, Queretaro...red, Mexico City...green and yellow taxi's). I could talk about the beautiful house we stayed in in Queretaro and the...not so nice...house we stayed at for the day in the mountains. I could talk about the famous soccer player (no I mean futbol player) we stayed with and also the family who lives a quiet, simple life. I could talk about the old pyramids and the new(er) Hard Rock Cafe. I could talk about how nice the people were and how ashamed I am of my arrogant nation. I could tell you how excited I was to get on the Delta Airlines flight 481 to Mexico and how sad I was to get on flight 484 to New York (Nueva York actually). I could tell you how beautiful the rich, colorful, warm sunsets were, and how the pure, cool sunrises were. I could tell you how great I felt with no allergies in the high altitudes and how out-of-shape I felt in the high altitudes. I could tell you that the Pachuca Pastes were delicious and that the Inn Sur's (in Mexico City) restaurant's questionable eggs were not so much. I could tell you of all the inside jokes that were created on this trip and also the times that I wished I could get away. I could tell you that I love it down there and thinking of the colleges, and also how much I am glad to be home and that I fell in love with New York again. There is so much to write about Mexico, but I don't know where to start.