Girl meets Mexico: A love story

I was sitting at the end of the bar of my favorite hangout in Seattle one crazy-busy night, alternately chatting with the bartender and reading a novel (yes, I am the kind of person who brings a book to a bar). A server I didn’t recognize stopped to pick up his drinks. He caught my eye and asked what I was reading. It was the first of countless times my (now) husband took my breath away.

When I met David, I didn’t realize I was also meeting a neighbor whose name I had long known, but who I didn’t really know: his home country of Mexico.

It was obvious from our first meeting that the country he grew up in–its arts, culture, history, politics, food, sports, religion, celebrations–were at the very core of his being.

And the more I got to know him, the more I wanted to know about what made David who he was. So I got a book (yes, still that person) and started reading about:

• The ancient Olmecs and Aztecs
• Mariachi, murals, and monarchs
• The Virgin of Guadalupe
• The country’s modern cities, sparkling shores, arid deserts, and erupting mountaintops

And the more I read, the closer I felt to David, and the more I fell in love with this extraordinary country I would marry into.

As we parted ways that first night at the bar, David leaned over and kissed my cheek. I know now, of course, that’s standard practice in Mexican culture. But I didn’t know so then, and it was a seriously swoonworthy moment. It was a kiss that held great promise of my deep love for David and for the country of his heart.