On the Fence

Oh, contentment . . . why are you so elusive?

In some ways I feel like I'm sitting on a fence. And I have a feeling that I'll always be sitting on some spot on that fence. Isn't that frustrating?

For specifics, I still do really love living in the city of Saltillo. It boasts so many civilities that just are absent in much of the rest of the country. I raved about these on my first post about Saltillo, so I'll let most of them stand there, but were we ever to leave Saltillo, I will be bereft of the two communities I've managed to become a part of in the two years we've lived here: first, in my neighborhood through our parish church at San Jose (it's my impression that the churches within the Diocese of Saltillo strive to create community in ways that are painfully absent in the rest of the country) and within the community I've found through my "gringo church", the International Church of Saltillo. Two very different communities, but a means of laying down roots--for possibly the first time in my adult life.

But as I've mentioned, we've lived here for just over two years now. I haven't lived anywhere for more than two years since I graduated college ten years ago. I'm getting restless. I'm feeling the itch to move on.

The fact that Saltillo is so stinkin' isolated is starting to grate on me, too. Now that Monterrey has been axed off the list of safe places nearby to visit, we're left with visiting Parras (two hours away) or Real de Catorce (three hours away) for a weekend getaway.

Not that there have been too many weekend getaways lately--hubs has had to work 12-14 hours a day, 6 days a week for the last . . . I can't count anymore. I know, I know--welcome to Mexico. However, he began his career at Volkswagen, where they believe in an 8-5 workday and 5-day workweek. They spoiled him for work anywhere else in this country, and in some ways we're really hoping to go back.

And heck, part of me just wants to go back to ANYWHERE on the periphery of Mexico City--close to Mario's family, friends, a variety of places to escape to, fresh and varied food . . . man, oh man, there are things I miss from there. Crazy drivers are clearly not one.

But Saltillo's parks and playgrounds--they just don't exist anywhere else in Mexico (in my experience). I can't leave them!

And then part of me gets nostalgic for living in the US--libraries, part-time preschools, just the easiness of life there--it's a thought, isn't it? And for us it is, although I don't think Mario's quite ready for that yet. Someday, he says. And that really is good enough for me. Although some days I know that I'm ready NOW!

But in the meantime, I'm stuck on the fence. Part of me really wants to stay here. Part of me wants to head south. Part of me wants to go north. And wherever we are, I'm always going to want to be elsewhere, despite how much I may enjoy wherever I'm living.

Sarah Turnbull mentiones in her book, Almost French, (her experiences as an Australian living in Paris) that it is bittersweet to love two different countries. Or, in my case, two different countries and two different regions of that second country.

So, at this point, it may be best that we're nearly halfway between my part of my country and Mario's part of his country. That way, here we get a bit of both from both sides. Which is alternatively satisfying and frustrating.

But it is what it is and so it is.