Fresa

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So yesterday was one of the strangest days at Casa Ayuda.
It started off very fun and normal. We went to the ranch that Alicia’s family owns. It’s absolutely gorgeous. It’s set right on a river, which is absolutely beautiful. I waded in the river, some of the kids swam, we skipped rocks, we sun bathed. It was really a good time.
Then we go home. There was a Guatemalan lady at Casa Ayuda, she was nice. She had lived in the US in Minneapolis (actually, it turns out right down the road from where my grandma used to live). She spoke broken English and wouldn’t speak to me in Spanish. I really had no idea what she was saying most of the time. Anyways, she is married to an abusive husband who is from the area around San Miguel. She wants to divorce him and live for a while with her 3 kids in San Miguel. During lunch she was asking me where I lived, how much I paid for rent and if there were any other apartments where I lived. I said I lived in Guadiana, couldn’t remember how much I paid for rent and that I didn’t think the land lady had any other apartments. Well, this started both Alicia and Victor into a huge long discussion about how “fresa” (it means strawberry, but in Mexico it has a double meaning when applied to a person. It means a person who is stuck up, someone who is spoiled) the neighborhood of Guadiana is and that is why I live there, since I’m extremely fresa. Now it’s not unusual for Victor to kid me about being stuck up. We go back and forth joking about how I’m stuck up (usually with things like my tennis shoes and how much I paid for the sleeping bag for Mongolia). But this time it was different. There was no joking; there was nothing funny about this. Victor was being serious. It’s hard to explain, but it really offended me. They wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain my point of view about Guadiana and where I live. I do live in a relatively Americanized neighborhood. However, my apartment is small, randomly decorated, is above a corner store and my land lady is Mexican. I hardly interact or see the Americans in this neighborhood. In fact, I hardly interact with any Americans. I’m actually surprised that the land lady was able to rent this apartment to Americans, since it’s not what most Americans who come here are looking for. I know that I’m probably paying more than I should for the apartment, but to find an apartment in Mexico for Mexican prices, you have to be in Mexico. This was the best option I had at the time. I’m still paying a lot less then if I was in the United States.
But this is all beyond the point.
I was so offended during lunch (the conversation about my being horribly stuck up lasted about 20 mins). I just couldn’t understand why it matters where I live or why it has to be explained to strangers, in detail, how stuck up I am. I was really mad. The first thought that crossed my mind was:
“Well then, if I’m so stuck up, since that’s such a horrible thing, I’ll just take my stuck up money and go back to Denver”. (I wasn’t serious, I was just annoyed).
Well, I calmed down, talked to my mom and I think this has very little to do with Victor’s actual beliefs or ideas about my fresaness. I didn’t know this happened, but I think I really offended Victor and Alicia when I decided not to live with them. Well, maybe not offended them, but I don’t think they understand why I’m living on my own. The only reason they can think of is that Casa Ayuda wasn’t good enough. That, of course, isn’t true, it’s because I had not an ounce of privacy and I want to live alone. I want to have some sort of life outside of Casa Ayuda. But how do I explain this to them? I tried telling Victor that this is what the custom is in the United States, that people of my age, after college, move out on their own, sometimes with friends, but alone, away from their family. This usually doesn’t happen in Mexico until the woman is married (but I don’t want to get into the lectures about my dating habits and their ideas about that). I just really have no idea how to remedy this. I don’t want them to continue feeling as if I don’t want to be around them, but I am not moving into Casa Ayuda. I also don’t want to have to endure another lecture about my faults, especially in front of strangers and especially when they’re not really faults.
I just have no idea.

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