Color my life with the chaos of trouble.

It has been more than a month since I was last around here.

Even though my fingers where itching for me to get writing again, my life has been nothing short of chaotic (in a good way). So, even though I have had to rewrite this blog post three times and I am afraid I might be losing my powers (Ha!), I apologize for being gone and promise that from now on, the Diaries of a Traveler will be back to their original schedule: I expect to be publishing new content once or twice a week.

But first:

I'm in Canada!

As most of you already know, I moved to Montreal in the beginning of April in order to improve my French. The plan: to live in a student-shared apartment for three months, during which I would be attending school and exploring. Ever since I got here (a month and a half ago) and up until today, my trip has been an adventure. Life never disappoints.

I had been here for a week when I noticed that I had really lucked out with my roomies back in India (shout out to Ritwika and Dips!). Unfortunately, that was not going to happen here, so my second weekend in Montreal was spent walking from place to place, looking for an apartment, until I found the (super amazing) place in which I live today. In the blink of an eye I went from being a simple exchange student to a young adult who lives on her own, cooks on her own and does not know the meaning of a schedule, a map or an itinerary.

During the last month and a half that I have been living alone, I have gotten lost in the middle of a snowstorm (yes, it was still snowing big time in the beginning of April), I had to undergo minor toe surgery, I got the flu just when I started to feel normal again; the first time that it was sunny enough for me to go explore Montreal, I got hit on by a man about 40 years my senior, who invited me "out for drinks" and almost made me cry with rage (He was being persistent and his comments were completely out of place).

It has taken me a long, long time to adapt and it is until now that I'm starting to get used to the way things work over here, even though the weather is something I'll never come to terms with. Since I've been here, we have had three weeks of winter, a week of spring (the trees turned green and beautiful!) and four days of  rain mixed with sunny mornings and really windy evenings.  

Actually, during the first of our rainy days, I was wearing a knee-length dress (yup, I got caught off-guard) and as I was walking to the bus stop, this random person drove exactly over a puddle and left me half soaked. I could still hear laughter as I stood by the bus stop, squeezing water out of one of my socks. (Okay. Now that I read it...it does sound funnier than it was at the time). 

Honestly, this trip has been a travesty. In the best and worst ways possible.

I have been through things that I did not expect, did not want and didn't even imagine could happen to me at this point in my life. Even though I still know very little of Montreal, I am pretty sure it isn't a place in which I'd like to live, but even then, I can't help being happy that I'm here right now.

Even though I panic every time someone speaks to me in French out of the blue (big apologies to the guy who asked if he could help me with anything last week in Provigo; that "No" was supposed to be followed by a thank you...and I assure you my voice is actually not that high-pitched), I feel like I'm getting better. Although it is pretty much a ritual to see me running to the bus stop every morning and I am sure that the bus drivers can recognise me by now (Kudos, drivers of the 103 Monkland!), I feel slightly more responsible, slightly more independent and slightly older too.

Living alone is crazy, but I really appreciate having the freedom to choose every second of my day. I love coming up with new routines, cooking whatever it is my heart desires...I treasure the afternoons spent sprawled on the floor reading a book and drinking endless amounts of coffee, running to the Baskin Robbins to get a sundae before closing time, the improvised karaoke sessions, the "I just need a new pair of pants" shopping-trip that turns into bankruptcy; the random trips to Chinatown just to get Pho, coming up with my new version of the Crusades in which I kill the spiders and the ants that come trooping into the house out of nowhere; the infinite pleasure of my morning rituals, the tranquility of my trip to school (once I've caught the bus, that is), the times in which I remember some conversation that went undoubtedly wrong and all I can do is laugh alone in the metro even if people think I'm a little nuts...the moments to myself, those I wouldn't change for anything.

That is how my life works now. 

As always, thank you so much for reading. Special thanks to those who constantly reminded me that I had to get writing again (Adolfo!) and the ones who have been sending me messages asking about my wellbeing. I promise not to disappear again (not soon, anyway).

Legend has it...

If you ask anyone in my country for the thing that defines the state in which I live, almost everyone will answer the same thing: The Arches.

Connecting the Historic City Centre with some of Querétaro's main avenues, these Arches are but a visible part of what once was the main source of clean water in my city. Comprised of 74 arches and measuring 4'265 ft in length (1'300 m) with a maximum height of 93.24 ft (28.42 m), The Aqueduct is one of the biggest in Mexico as well as a popular tourist attraction. 

However, the most interesting fact about The Aqueduct has much more to do with a simple question:

Why was it built? 

Back in 1726, Querétaro was one of the most prosperous and beautiful villages of New Spain, except it had a tiny problem: the supply of clean, drinking water to the city was scarce and inefficient. 

The official story is that the Capuchin Nuns complained to their benefactor, who in turn promised to find a solution to the problem and not so long after,  built The Arches.

But. As any good citizen of Querétaro will tell you, the official story is rumoured to be quite false. 

Legend has it...that the Nuns' benefactor, Juan Antonio de Urrutia y Arana, Marquis of la Villa del Villar del Águila, was in love with a nun (even though records indicate he was married to a wealthy lady in the City). He repeatedly confessed his feelings to the nun in question, only for her to refuse his advances. 

One lucky day however, she offered him a deal. She would accept to marry him if he found a way to bring clean water to the City. 

The Marquis not only complied with her request; he personally planned, designed and sponsored the building of The Aqueduct, donating the majority of the funds from (you guessed it), his wife's fortune. 

Finally, during October of 1738, The Aqueduct was finished and ready to start supplying Querétaro with clean water. The City organized a huge celebration which included parades, plays, balls & fireworks and lasted for about 15 days! 

Very proudly, the Marquis went to ask for the nun's hand in marriage, and guess what?! 

She refused him. Again.

Broken hearted, the Marquis never asked to marry the nun again, and contented with being the Capuchin's benefactor and one of Querétaro's most celebrated patrons. To this day, he is remembered as a local celebrity and philanthropist, and his memory is honoured in the Cemetery of Great Men & Women, along with Mrs. Josefa Ortíz de Domínguez and her husband (among others) who were crucial in starting the fight for Mexican Independence, and proud citizens of  Querétaro.

A weekend inside a traditional Mexican home.

There is a little town somewhere that's filled with cobblestone streets, a main square that's bustling with the sounds of people, and street after street of traditional Mexican houses decorated with bright colours and iron-wrought balconies. 

This little town is called Tequisquiapan, and it is located in the southwestern part of the state in which I live. Since it is a quiet, peaceful town and it also houses the National Cheese & Wine Festival, it is a very popular tourist attraction filled to the brim with weekend homes.

This past weekend, my family and I decided to head for Tequisquiapan in honor of my Grandmother's birthday celebration. It is only safe for me to say that while the world was going crazy celebrating Valentine's Day, I was having the perfect getaway at a traditional Mexican house, which I then decided to share with you guys on the blog. 

So, welcome to our little piece of paradise! 

Frankly, I was really excited to get to spend the weekend with every member of my extended family. I think it's mostly because my aunts tell the most hilarious stories from their childhood & we all have a good laugh while the smell of BBQ fills in every space. 

Immediately after we arrived, my little cousins squealed at the sight of the pool. It was only so bad that the day was cloudy and cold (not that it stopped them for long, anyway). 

It was a thrill to see everyone having so much fun. There were Foosball Tournaments going on constantly and the swings/slide weren't unoccupied for long. 

Eventually, light rain started falling. The kids were exhausted and our hopes of having a bonfire had pretty much vanished. 

Thankfully, I could still hear the sounds of laughter in the kitchen and I was very surprised to come in and find my Mom and aunts gathered around the dining room table, having coffee and warm bread, and sharing stories with my oldest cousins (read, making everyone crack up with their jokes). 

The next morning I woke up surprisingly early and decided to take a stroll around the grounds, in order to snap most of the photos you see in this post. 

As usual, I was very pleased to find some quirky spots, like the well standing in a far off corner in the garden, and a hidden (very well locked) shed (?) at the very, very back of the property. 

However, my absolute favourite moment was walking through the gardens and finding out these beauties were in full bloom. 

A couple of hours later, we had all packed our bags and were all walking around Tequisquiapan's Main Square. 

Just like the City Centre at home, Tequisquiapan is full of stores and restaurants that gather tourists and locals alike. 

For the first time in a million years, I saw only one globero (balloon seller) sitting around. Presumably, since Valentine's had been the day before, he was having a pretty slow day. 

We hadn't been around too long before it was time to leave. On our way back  we passed some pretty off-beat streets with the most awesome-looking buildings. Even though we don't do it often, it's always a treat to come to this tiny, magic town. 

See you soon, Tequisquiapan. 

(And Happy [belated] Valentine's Day, everyone!)

P.S. I forgot to mention this in my last post, but I was astounded by all the positive comments I received when I wrote about not going back to India. I hadn't expected that post to have so many readers (at all!). Special thanks to those who reached out and said something particularly nice (Shout out to Dang & Saket: Your words made my day!). 

The warm feeling of home.

One of my favourite things to do at home (and the one I miss the most when I'm gone), is being able to roam the streets of the Historic City Centre. 

It is here where some of the most special moments for my country have taken place, like the Independence Conspiracies at the ancient Mayor's Home or the signing of the Mexican Constitution of 1917 (which is still in force!). 

However, I love visiting the City Centre because it is there where the smell of Mexican snacks blends with the laughter of kids playing in the parks, the voices of the balloon vendors and the thousand colors of the tiny stalls aligned one after the other. 

This week I went out to get to lost in the streets in order to be able to share some photos of my town (yes, it's mine!) over here on the blog.

(In case you were wondering: the gun is fake and the baby is too!)

One of the best things about walking around town is finding artists like the ones above, who dress up as statues of Revolutionary times and stay very still, suddenly surprising you  when you walk by or give them a few coins. Seeing them around is usually pretty fun (and the reactions of the public...priceless!).

Anyhow, my absolute favourite activity is to roam all the lonely streets because they tell stories. There is a certain kind of warmth involved in seeing the busy women walk the streets in a hurry, grocery bag in hand; the old ladies peeking through their windows. It all makes my heart melt.

On the other hand, even the busiest streets have magic of their own. There are stores everywhere and you can hear the vendors advertise their products: everything from food & art to jewellery and local gems. These streets are filled with colour and noises. These streets make me smile.

My favourite place in the whole world is a tiny street called Andador Libertad, or the Walk of the Artists. It is in this little nook where most of the painters & sculptors gather to exhibit and sell their work. There is always something new to admire.

(Besides, at the very end of the corridor you can find one of my favourite getaways, Galería Libertad, an art gallery that never ceases to amaze me with its exhibitions. This week they've chosen photographs by Mary Ellen Mark  -some of which were taken in India and have made me smile real wide). 

It is precisely this part of town where you can find all sorts of knick-knacks, including the prettiest colonial buildings. 

It is also here where you can visit a lot of restaurants with every style imaginable -almost all of which offer Mexican food (because it is the best in the world!).

We've also got some pretty rad sculptures in the most random of places. And a church in every corner. Literally. 

If you happen to visit the City Centre early in the morning, you can see the vendors setting up their stalls, opening their stores, or preparing the stoves & heating the comal (where we make tortillas) in order to receive all of the tourists who drop by. 

If you are feeling lucky, you can close your eyes and stay very still. You will feel how the city awakens and the sun shines a little brighter. That's when you will understand this is the warm feeling of home.

No, I'm not going back to India.

I'm not going back to India.

It is a bit hard for me to write about this topic because it can easily lead to misinterpretations. 

However, one of the advantages (and disadvantages) of having a personal blog is that it gives me a space to talk about the things that happen to me. I have always tried to know the limits between the things I want to share and those which I wish to keep private. That is why today, I have decided to talk about the reasons that led me to come back and I would like (although I certainly don't expect) for you to take this post for what it is: the result of my experience.

Back in November I decided to come back from India.

My original plan was to spend two years there in which I would be attending MUWCI and traveling around the country.

To be honest, the first days that I spent in my new school were pure bliss. Never have I been more amazed than when I went up Internet Hill for the very first time. Never have I felt more included in a group than with my latinos. Never have I made a quicker connection to someone, than with my roomies. 

Every time I went out of my house with muddy feet, rain falling all around me, the trees shining bright and green...I felt like the luckiest girl on Earth. Every time I went on hikes alone and ended up a bit lost, and each time I looked out my window and the sun was hiding behind the hills, I felt truly grateful for having the opportunity to be there. 

Time went by and my unlimited happiness turned into something ordinary. The lights of my excitement were now dim.

I don't want to give too many details, but I do want something to be crystal clear: I did not return because I had a problem with India.

India is a magical place and honestly, there are a million stereotypes that have got to die. India is a country in progress, full of people that are nice and brilliant. Not all of the country is as spiritual as we seem to think on this side of the world, and even though Gandhi's head is printed on the rupees, I have heard many say that there are many other men who deserve as much recognition.

I came back because my school is not what I expected.

Notoriously, some of my classes were exceptional and have opened my eyes to many new perspectives. Living in MUWCI has left me with a lot to think and reflect and learn. However, I was there for a different experience and I couldn't find it. In many ways, I felt like there were things missing. My school was not what I had expected or what I had wanted.

When I think of my High School days here in Mexico, I usually remember the times in which I insisted I was going to pursue whatever made me happy. While I was in India and I felt an obligation to stay because I had made a commitment to myself, my parents and the association, I couldn't help but think about those words, every time. I would be one big hypocrite if I suddenly decided to stay for fear of what may happen next. Hence, after having thought it through, I decided to keep on pursuing the things that I truly want to do. Even if those things are not in India.

I plan to go back soon and visit the places I didn't go to this time. I have many new friends to visit now, too. India won't get rid of me that easily.

The blog will go on, of course...and I promise not to stop writing for such long periods like I did this month. But, just in case you want to read more about India, I happen to know this smart Colombian dude (who just happens to be one of my dearest friends) who writes about his adventures in India here. He has traveled a lot, so trust me when I say he knows what he's talking about. 

Do I have any more plans? Yes. Lots, as usual! There are a couple of trips in my near future which I am really excited about. I will be talking about them in a few weeks.

At the beginning of the year, I asked 2015 to grant me the knack of knowing when to stop. Twenty days later I can safely say that moment is not now. So, just like I wrote on the very first post of this blog:

I'm lost. 

But, you know what?  

It feels great to be lost in the right direction.

Thoughts on the year that goes.

It's early morning on the last day of 2014. 

(At least here, in my corner of the world it is still early morning). 

The air is buzzing with anticipation, excitement and so many plans for the year to come, but it is also filled with memories, wonder & grateful thoughts for the year that is ending. 

To me, this year has been particularly fantastic. 

I traveled 15'612 km, officially making 2014 my year with Most Distance Traveled. I won a scholarship, packed my bags and moved to rural Maharashtra in what seemed like a heartbeat. I saw countless new (incredible) places. I met new (amazing) people who come from all corners of the world and whom I now proudly call my friends. I met my source of strength, my roomies. I met my loves, my latinos. I ate great food. I went away and did new things, learned new lessons, changed (a lot), made hard decisions. To top it off, I had the chance to come back home and say goodbye to 2014 in the exact same place where I received it 365 days ago. 

Who knew so many things could happen in such short time. 

Who knew one could be this blissfully happy. 

And even though this year was filled with so many wonderful things, it had its fair share of scares, tears & deceiving. I went through things that didn't make me specially happy. I cried out of frustration and helplessness. I got particularly mad & particularly sad. I have had to say goodbye to many things.

It's early morning on the last day of 2014. 

(At least here, in my corner of the world it is still early morning). 

All I am is grateful for the year that is ending because I can safely state (without fear of being wrong), that this year tops off any other in terms of the things I've done and planned for myself. 

This has actually been my best year ever. 

If this had been any other time, I would probably be asking the New Year to give me love, fortune, travel & whatnot. But with so many things that have happened, all the adventures I've lived and the wanderlust my heart is filled to the brim with...

All I ask of 2015 is to grant me the knack of knowing when to stop. 

The Magic of a Mexican town.

Yesterday you may have spied a photo of some giant rock on my Instagram feed. If you did, then you already know that I've arrived in Mexico and I'm currently relaxing on the place I call home. 

In fact, I have been in Mexico for about three weeks now, and I have been taking a vacation from the blog in order to recover from jet lag and reunite with my Mexicans, as well as sleep all day and eat all the food I can possibly fit into myself. 

Yesterday, I went to one of my favourite places in my state: a small town called Bernal, in which rests this enormous rock, the Peak of Bernal. Also known as Bernal's Boulder, this monolith was formed about 8 million years ago (when it was presumably three times bigger than today), and is currently one of the tallest in the world. 

The town of Bernal is one of the most sought-after places by tourists, since apart from hiking/climbing the Peña de Bernal (as it is known in Spanish), one can enjoy some great food and buy loads and loads of Mexican crafts. However, the main reason why tourists and locals alike visit Bernal is because it is considered one of Mexico's Magical Villages.

One of the best things to do in Bernal is eat. Almost every restaurant has a view of the Peak, and the food ranges from simple snacks to five-course meals -all of which do a terrific job of representing Mexico's food. 

If you don't believe me, just look at these gorgeous tiny gorditas made out of corn flour, chicken, beans, lettuce, cheese and lots of salsa.

We also ate enmoladas, a sort of chicken or cheese taco soaked in mole rojo. Definitely, one of the best dishes to try while in Mexico. Of course, we couldn't miss the guacamole, could we?

Later on, we did some sightseeing and certainly a lot of shopping. There are just many beautiful things to buy around here, and seeing all the vendors displaying their art was certainly one of the things I missed most from home.

Just look at these two cuties made out of Mexican ceramic. Her, the image of a china poblana, and him the authentic charro. 

Or this lovely hand-painted Mexican landscape on a clay tile. 

Finally, I couldn't miss our beloved Catrinas, who even though it's past their time (they usually come out in Día de Muertos -Day of the Dead), look as stunning as ever.

Not to conform to the Mexican stereotypes or anything, but it seems like we're getting into the Christmas festivities already. Not that we are always festive, right?

Bernal feels specially lovely under all the Christmas lights and holly jolly vibes. 

The truth is, even when I may travel around and fall in love with new places, I would never trade this small town of mine for anything else. No wonder people say it's magical.

It feels great to be home.