Hey everyone, it’s been a long time since I’ve written about my Guadalajara trip, but I indeed had still left its narrative incomplete! As such, I want to give you all one final post detailing the things I didn’t get to from the trip and looking back on the beautiful memories that have stuck with me most vividly from that time. Bienvenidos a nuevo (Welcome back) to Mi Viaje Maravilloso en Guadalajara (my marvelous trip to Guadalajara).
The Cultural Excursions and the Community Ties I’ll Carry with Me
I sometimes remember, when writing Oberlin blogs, that one of the main purposes of our content is to show people the details of what really goes on in this institution. I’ve picked to detail my Guadalajara trip because it was profoundly meaningful to me, not for any motive of promoting Oberlin programs or Oberlin hispanic studies in particular. But ¡dios mio! (my god, except that’s considered an even more weak and non-offensive phrase in Spanish than in English) I don’t know if I could have picked a better example of how enriching, vibrant, and polished a college activity could be! The Hispanic Studies program’s trip to Guadalajara was a constant rush of valuable learning and exuberant exploration, a perfect balance that always kept us engaged. I think of this now because perhaps nowhere was the exquisite organization of the trip more evident than in our cultural excursions.
Every weekend morning we students loaded into busses or vans (or once we did take the subway) to head to a different, incredible spot (and in Spanish they literally would used the word “spot,” pronounced “eh-spot,” and I’m not really sure in the case of this pronunciation why they added that initial “eh” but remember it clear as those bright, sunny, Guadalajara days).
We explored a grand variety of things through our cultural excursions, and every time we built stronger ties between the students on the trip, our professors, and the institute staff who accompanied us. By the end of the time it felt we had more or less literally become a tight-knit, band of merry misfits. We would load into our transport in a seeming heap in that heat and babble or heavily sleep (and most of the group would be united in a given one of these trends each time) until our new destination.
On the first two excursions of the trip, after school on the initial Wednesday and on the first Saturday, we toured the town of Guadalajara itself and the nearby area of Tlaquepaque, filled with rich culture from street-vending artisans, to the (non-alcoholic, we checked) local corn drink we all got to enjoy a sample of. Our guide, who dutifully paced backwards in blazing heat atop the plaza stones, spoke to us in both English and Spanish of the cities’ institutions and culture in detail in the past and now.
The second excursion, on the first Sunday, brought us to Tequila, the famed site of the revered eponymous alcohol’s creation, where other students (myself abstaining, as I don’t drink) got to taste a fresh batch as we learned about the history of making the drink in the region by hand on a factory tour. I remember that on that same day, once we’d stopped for lunch at a restaurant, we were treated to a performance by a mariachi street band, the type for which the region is famous.
During the trip’s second weekend, we saw more towns nearby Guadalajara, each showcasing another unique bit of culture and teaching us more Spanish as the guides imparted their wisdom in the local language to us (often with some English translations thrown in to aid our comprehension). In Chapala and Ajijiic on Saturday, we saw a beautiful church in active song and a museum which showcased the particular indigenous history of the region (and happened to be nearby some delectable nieve, which literally means snow but was taken to refer to the ice cream I frequently thoroughly enjoyed from street shops during our journey). In Tapalpa, we climbed the famed Piedrotas (more or less literally “big rocks”) and got (for those of us who were interested) delightful churros and street corn.
The third weekend was a designated free time, but it came with a suggestion that we go as a group of students to the beach. And we did, finding an Airbnb for staying in the lovely seaside town of Los Ayala. Though we students picked where we’d stay and whether we’d go on this final excursion, the institute and our professors helped guide us directly through the endeavor, to the extent that I still think we might not have made it on our nighttime bus transport to where we were staying if it weren’t for the institute staff calling ahead in our stead. This final time, going on hikes, swimming in the pleasantly tepid ocean, and lounging on the golden sands, was what brought our group of students together the most strongly. After that whole weekend spent laughing at every turn, we came back to Guadalajara and our schoolwork with a new fervor and community unmatched by any of the moments before.
Our Guadalajara trip ended soon after that. It was a peculiar occasion when it did. Peculiar because, while I was sad of course, I remember I was also filled with exuberance in that ending time. We had a merry gathering of all the program staff and participants, we bid sweet farewells to each of our host families, and we even flew mostly in a group to return to our Oberlin studies. I remember I was heartbroken that my month of pure bliss in a foreign place was over, but also, I was thoroughly satisfied with the memories and skills I would take with me.
Once back in the US, I remember that it felt like the sun was shining just a bit the wrong color each time I’d hear English instead of Spanish on the university paths. I remember I missed the warm sea (even if I did get stung once by a moon jellyfish). I remember too, though, that I would smile and wave with a special kind of reminiscence in my eyes when I’d see a fellow student from the trip. Certainly I would feel and have felt since then that I can speak Spanish with a newfound smooth grace, even if not perfectly fluently. I hope to return to a Spanish-speaking country someday, but for the purpose of a concentrated Winter Term program, found the time I spent in Guadalajara to be immaculate. It was beautifully planned and executed, and I could not be more fervently glad that I was immersed in each part. I said adiós (goodbye) to Guadalajara when I left but, just like my later study abroad experience in France, I never dismissed it from my heart. Guadalajara, once again similarly to Bordeaux, will always be a treasure that remains with me, like a beautiful golden coin tucked quietly near a far corner of my desk which, in the moment when I’m looking for a burst of sweet memory and love, I can look upon to help my skills and my joyous soul to shine anew.
