Inverness Park, CA. Night time, clear and mild.

The windows of the living room are finally dark, after having for so long today framed the trees across the ravine so perfectly; the plaintive sound of the radio has replaced that of the ospreys teaching their babies to fly; the wilting flowers in the vase on the kitchen table are all that remain of the vibrance of the blossoming garden which I so painstakingly watered for the best part of this morning. And finally, the mess strewn across the living room floor has found itself into my backpacking backpack, a rolling duffel bag, a carry-on, and one "small personal item such as a purse or small backpack" (in this case my backpack), ready for the trip to the airport tomorrow.

The only reason that I can't sleep is because I feel that one should not be able to sleep under these circumstances. Already I have said my goodbyes to most of my family and friends, and I now sit alone with my passport and ticket, waiting for the time to expire until I am on United flight 977 tomorrow morning to Mexico City where I can wait another four hours for AVIACSA flight 241 into Oaxaca to meet Anna Barto and Sra. Ceci, whom I have never met but who will be my only friends in the new city for the time being, at least until Laura Gillman joins me on Saturday as another newcomer.

I have been running miscellaneous Spanish phrases over and over in my head for months now, wondering how I will deal with specific situations and questions that might arise that I wouldn't know the words to deal with. Oddly enough, the last thing on my mind-- which coincidentally seems to be the first question on everyone else's lips-- is where I will work, where I will live, and how I will get by. These things, like so much else, I simply assume I will figure out. Instead, I have gone over the inane and practical details which will actually govern my experience getting to and subsequently living in the city: going through customs with a one-way ticket, getting my visa, unpacking my things, buying food and negotiating meals. And yet I have no image whatsoever of what this whole adventure will be like. Most people don't realize that I have never, in fact, actually been to Mexico before, and yet here I sit on the eve of my departure, committed to a year of living in a city I hadn't even heard of until about six months ago.

And yet the one thing that I am certain about is that this is the eve of a great adventure and a new kind of learning. I am enormously intrigued by the idea of the zócalo and yet I am sure that my favorite places will be the hole-in-the wall cafés and restaurants with local flavor and personality. I wonder about the people I will meet and the things they will have to say, what will make them laugh, and just precisely what they do for a good time in the city of Oaxaca, Mexico.

But I guess those are questions for tomorrow.