In: Travel, Well-Being
It’s Okay To Be Depressed While Traveling
It’s not all exciting, and that’s just fine
Sundown in Mexico
I arrived in Mexico City just a few days ago. I have been on the road for two months now, and Mexico City is a sort of midpoint for me on my journey through Mexico and Central America.
It is my last stop on the southern plateau before descending toward the ocean, and I have spent my time here engaging with history; yesterday I made my way to El Paseo de la Reforma and spent the better part of an hour gazing up at the golden wings of El Angel de la Independencia, a winged statue of the goddess Nike built to commemorate the Mexican revolution. The mausoleum at her base serves as the resting place of many of the country’s greatest heroes.
I’ve followed this pattern in all of the cities I have visited. I have a scholar’s temperament; my way of engaging with the world around me is primarily cerebral, so I have spent my time learning about the cities I have visited. Perhaps because most of my time is spent paying close attention to the places I visit, and the effects they have on me, I noticed a few short weeks ago that a new shadow has attached itself to me.
