 This photograph was captured in the summer of 2015 while in Tequila, Mexico with my family. This was taken while on the way to the Sauza Tequila distillery tour. This photo is significant for various reasons, whether it be the subject matter, the representation and symbolism, or something more personal. What makes this photograph significant to me is the reminder I receive when I take a look. The man in the photograph is not young. In fact, he looks old enough to be my grandfather. Hell, this even seems like something my grandfather would do. I could suggest that this man represents my grandfather. My grandfather is young at heart. He was one of the men who raised me and showed me that his age wasn’t an excuse to not do something. Typically people of this age range would be considered fragile, slow, and weak. This man, like my grandfather, breaks all the stereotypes of an elderly person. He does not let his age stop him from working and earning an honest income, neither did my grandfather. Although I draw much similarity from this photo towards my grandfather, there are memories attached to this photo. The summer of 2015 was the first time I had spent longer than two weeks in Mexico with my family. I had gotten the chance to really get to know this side of my family as well as the chance to see parts of Mexico I had not seen before. I mainly stayed in the city of Guadalajara in the state of Jalisco. This is the city where my grandparents, aunt, and cousins live. I stayed in my grandparent’s home in a small room at the top, next to the roof. I remember the first morning I woke up to find ten mosquito bites on each one of my legs. There was a joke in my family that the parasites liked and preferred my blood because I’m American and because I looked white. As it turns out, I have a blood type that mosquitos generally prefer, which is most unfortunate for me in humid areas with high mosquito populations. As you can imagine, the itch that came from the bites left me with less patience towards others than usual. I think the combination of the bites and the hot, humid weather, led to a very agitated version of myself. I remember my brothers and uncles annoying me very easily. One uncle in particular, loved to use my hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead. However, I wasn’t the only one who faced this disgusting misfortune. He also targeted my brothers and especially my younger cousins. I remember the many times he would perform these tricks for us claiming he had some magical power. It was very funny to see the puzzled looks on the faces of my younger cousins. They would always ask “where did it go” or “how did you do that?” The summer I was in Mexico, was the summer I discovered a lot of things about my family. I went to family parties and met many people I am somehow related to. If there was one major thing I had learned, it would be that the Mexican side of my family is giant! I always knew my family was big, but the family parties is where I obtained visual evidence. I remember a room full of over 200 people and only recognizing five percent of the relatives. The craziest part is that this wasn’t everyone who was part of the family. There were relatives in other parts of Mexico and various other parts of the world that couldn’t make it to the event. My grandfather is one of sixteen children. His brothers and sisters all have families of their own, consisting of children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren. My grandfather’s line of siblings are what make this side of my family so large. Despite the immense amount of family members, there was always plenty of food and drinks to go around for everyone at the parties. I remember the first family party we went to. At every table, consisting of about eight people, there were two bottles of soda, one bottle of water, chips and salsa, nuts, and an entire bottle of tequila. I remember there were tables that had gone through two and a half bottles of tequila. I found this observation so funny. At family parties in California, there would maybe be a bottle of wine or a few cans of beer that would be drunken by a few family members. This was completely different from how we throw parties with my family in California, but I loved it. I think something that also stuck with me was how hospitable my family members were. I stayed at my grandfather’s brother’s home in Mexico City with my two uncles, aunt, cousin, and brother. It was a two bedroom apartment. My brother and two uncles stayed in the living room while my aunt, cousin, and I stayed in my great uncle’s room, trying to fit the three of us on a king sized bed. My great uncle and his wife stayed in a smaller room that was reserved for their grandson. Since we were guests, they let us stay in their room. My great uncle’s wife cooked for us breakfast, lunch, dinner, and much more. I remember feeling overly full after inhaling her deliciously prepared food. After eating she would even offer us more food to eat. I remember one morning, my great uncle offered me an alcoholic beverage in the morning. It was very good, reminded me of egg nog. The summer I spent in Mexico with my family was quite the experience. I spent much-needed time with family members I both knew and met for the first time. I over-indulged on the delicious foods that my family would prepare and offer. I went and saw places I had never been to before. It has been almost two years since I was last been in Mexico. I hope to return again soon. Here’s a list of some of the places I visited:
Please note: I only provide this little list of places because it is difficult to describe all my experiences of these different places into 1000 words or less. However, if you are curious of a particular city or location, let me know and I would be happy to share with you all what happened, what I did, as well as my advice when it comes to visiting that area. Thank you for your patience if you have been following along. Stay tuned because I will be making an announcement later this week! Thank you again for your support and for taking the time to read this!
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 This photograph was taken in Santa Cruz within the last two weeks I was in California before leaving. Visually you can see the significance of this particular photograph. The bright blue wall draw the eyes to this side of the photograph, forcing them to focus on the guitar player. I could suggest that the guitar player represents me following my passions and those with their backs to both the camera and the performer represent those who didn’t believe in me pursuing these passions. However, this photograph is not about what it represents, this photo has a story. The three men with their backs shown are my father and two brothers. Surprisingly, the middle man is my younger brother. To the left of him is half of my father’s body. On the far right is my older half-brother. For the longest time I knew about my half-brother, but I had never actually got the chance to meet him until 2016. I learned about him at a young age and felt that I was missing out on his life. It’s the same feeling you get when you don’t see your friends for a long period of time and realize how much you have missed since you last saw one another. It’s the same feeling I had, except for a person I hadn’t even met. I also had mixed feelings for my mother. I couldn’t even imagine what it may be like for her. This was her son and yet she didn’t have him actively in her life. Even more so for him. I came to understand that both people had come to terms with the situation and found ways to not let it get to them. They both had different lives and different people to take up the roles that would be considered missing. My family would not be considered a “typical” or “average” family for many reasons, this being one of them. Regardless of it being the first time we had all got the opportunity to meet each other, we had found ways to connect and share stories with each other. There may have been a few differences in opinions, but it made for a stimulating conversation. I remember the day I took this photo. We decided to show Santa Cruz to my half-brother. It’s a place that was well-visited by my family growing up. So, spending the day there was like we were reliving our childhood with a new member in the family. I remember we went on the scariest ride available at the boardwalk. My brothers sat behind me during the ride. They made loud shrieks when appropriate, which in turn led my co-pilot, a 7-year old girl, to be so frightened she held on to me until the ride came to an end. I remember after this ride, we all played one of the boardwalk games involving a water gun and balloon. I honestly don’t remember who won, but the winner achieved a stuffed rainbow piñata. This was immediately given to my half-brother. There is proof of this in a photograph of us standing in front of the boardwalk and he is holding the prize. I laugh every time I look at that photo because he is a straight grown man holding a very colorful plush toy; something you don’t usually see. he day prior, before this photo was taken, I had driven to San Francisco with my other brother and half-brother. I needed to obtain my work visa for Italy and decided to make it a miniature trip with the two of them. I showed them my favorite places to visit, whether they were touristic or not. This for me, was when I really got the chance to get to know him. We had opened up by sharing the many different experiences from our life. Some things were personal and others were outer layer information. We exchanged music interests, making it the soundtrack of the drive around the city. The strange thing is I felt like I learned more about him than I actually know about the brothers I grew up with. Perhaps if we had all grown up together, it would be different. One thing was for certain, I was thankful to have met him at this point in my life as well as his. I was at a point where I had a general understanding of who I was as a person. I was mature in the young adult kind of way. Also the age different wasn’t too significant. I was at the beginning to middle of my twenties and he was in the middle to late twenties. I think this small age difference also made it easier for us to connect. The idea of meeting someone you are related to but never grew up with seems odd and strange. However, it makes for a unique visitation with a person. It’s hard to put into words of my feelings and the experience as a whole. I think the best way to put it is: it’s like you’re meeting a famous person. You’ve learned about them maybe when you were young. You have seen pictures of them. You may have heard their voice a few times. And when you finally do meet face to face, it is like “wow this person really exists?!” I hope you enjoyed what I have decided to share. Thank you for reading. Stay tuned for the next photo and story I decide to share!
 This is a photo I captured within the first week I arrived in Italy. I was exploring around the countryside with my cousin, her current boyfriend, and their friend. This photo is significant for many reasons. This was the first time I was truly away from home. I wasn’t planning to return to the U.S. for another year or maybe even longer. In fact, during this period I had considered spending a year in Spain followed by China after my Au Pair experience in Italy. I initially had these plans because I was at a point in my education and my life where I felt like I wasn’t contributing very much to society. What kind of person do I want to be? What do I want to do with my life? How am I going to get there? These questions ignited the fire of motivation I needed to get what I wanted and research how get there. I think what kick started it all was the night I stood outside the post office with my cousin. We were out there hours before they opened because apparently the system of obtaining a passport is more troublesome than one would think. We were first in line and I think we were out there for over an hour before the next person followed. He was an older man who was young at heart. The combination of his words of persuasion and my cousin’s invitation to join her on her Italian trip, is what sparked the idea of furthering my travel. I did not hesitate to answer yes when my cousin asked me to take part in their trip. However, I knew that spending the miniscule amount of about fourteen days was not sufficient. If I was going to save up for a plane ticket to Italy, I was going to stay longer than the average person would normally do so. So, I did my research and came to the final decision of taking part of an au pair experience for the family I am currently living with. If it wasn’t for that night I spent with my cousin, standing outside the post office for hours, waiting for us to be let in, I would not be where I am today. Literally! So when I look at this photo, I look back at my life before embarking on the journey. I recall why I even came to Italy in the first place. Saying yes to a trip to Italy was by far, the best decision I have ever made and will never regret it for even a moment. There is more to this photo than a hand in the distance with a focus on a bundle of white flowers. I look at this photo and I remember the many hours we spent in the car. One person to drive most of the time. My cousin and I in the back seats taking selfies while we sit in traffic. I remember the confusing navigation system that was provided with the car. On one occasion, I remember we tried to reroute the car towards a different path in order to avoid the traffic, only to be led to a dead end road. I remember us stopping somewhere in the hills and we came across a playground that seemed as though it was built in the middle of nowhere. I remember the tremendous amount of rain. It was no wonder why the hills were so green. For this particular photograph, we had stopped on our way to Pisa and we were driving through Tuscany. There was a surprising amount of diverse insects that were found on various plants and flowers. I remember we had stopped for a moment. I step out of the car and feel something burning around my ankles. I look down and discovered the culprit: ants. This situation was funny, but made me very paranoid for any strange sensation on my skin. In fact, my first week in Italy was full of surprises when it came to the “creepy crawlies.” On our third day of exploring, we had returned back home. I am in the shower and look down at my chest. There was, what looked like a small orange and black striped spider, crawling inside my skin. It was quite the situation. I had no idea what to do. I was butt-naked in the shower and my tweezers weren’t in the bathroom. I step out of the shower, soaking up the floor, and run to my room to obtain my tweezers. I run back to the bathroom and close the door behind me. I try to pull the unknown specimen out of my skin. The legs were moving. It was probably the most freaked out I have ever been when it came to an insect touching me. I usually have no problem with small living things, in fact I think they are interesting. However, the fact that this one was trying to use me as its host freaked me out a bit. I tried to pull the little guy out of my skin but he felt like he was stuck. The two guys heard the strange sounds coming from the bathroom and came up to investigate. I explain to them what happened and they immediately begin to laugh. Yes, it was funny, but in the moment it was very disgusting. Once I covered myself and let them in, they identified the insect as a tick and made it very clear that I handled the situation poorly. Needless to say, I now know what a tick looks like and how to remove it. For those of you who don’t know, you are supposed to light a fire under its butt so it can crawl out on its own.
I hope this made you laugh and think. Thank you for taking the time to read this. Check my Instagram for regular updates of things that get posted to my site!  This, here, is a photo I snapped of my mother. We were making our way down from the dome at the Vatican in Rome. She was visiting me for a few days and I actually had to do a little convincing before she agreed to visit Rome. Just a little background information: I don’t live in Rome. I live in a small city about 40 minutes south from Rome. Originally my mother wanted to just stay with me in the city I live in. I told her that it’s mandatory she visits the most well-known and visited city in Italy. After some time she finally agreed to be a little tourist. What makes this photo so significant is what happened before and after. Before taking this photo, we had hiked our way up the thousands of steps. It was very narrow and tiring. In fact, it was so narrow, there were a few people who needed to stop along the way because of their claustrophobia. I do not suffer from this fear, however the small space made me feel slightly claustrophobic. Although strenuous, we made it over the hump and gained our reward of a beautiful view. We could see all of Rome. I was able to see things I hadn’t seen before. You will notice a smile on her face. She and I were both pretty happy to have completed the hard part of this trek. It was a relief to make our way down. However when this photo was taken, we still had a bit of a way to go until we reach the bottom. Out of breathe, we continued our way through Rome. We went to the most touristic places: the Trevi Fountain, the St. Peter’s Basilica, the Roman Forum, and Colosseum. We made our way back to my city by train and ended the evening with a stereotyped American meal. The following day we went on a mini road trip to a small village located in a national park. It was cold and foggy but absolutely beautiful. We stayed at a farm that had horses, goats, dogs, pigs, chickens, etc. Although our time on this farm was short, it was very cute to stay at. Honestly this entire trip for the two of us was really nice. It had been a little over six months since I had last seen her so it was a great way for us to bond. I never really had a good relationship with my mother because we tend to disagree on many things and share a difference in opinions. We did not argue very much but we found time to share traditional arguments over stupid things I always forget about. However, as a whole this trip made me appreciate my time with her. She is my mom and we don’t always get along, but when we travelled together in the car around this part of Italy, we had the chance to talk about things we haven’t talked about before. Since we didn’t have the eavesdropping ears of my brothers, we had freedom to just talk. Saying good bye to my mother at the airport was a bittersweet parting of ways. She entered the security check and I made my way up the escalator towards the train station. Although it was a little hard to say good bye and let go of her, I wasn’t too broken up about it because I knew I was going to see her again soon and we were probably going to talk on the phone the following day. I felt like an adult. There are scenes in films and series of parents and their adult children visiting for a holiday or birthday. When they say their goodbyes there usually isn’t crying involved. I felt like one of those adults that were portrayed on screen. I felt like I was one of those people that visit their parents only certain times of the year. It was at that moment I had realized how grown up I had become. When I look at this photo I am not only reminded of the time I spent with my mother during her stay, but I am reminded of how much I have grown since I have been apart from her and my family. I love my family and my friends and my hometown. However, I have come to the realization that living close to family is a wonderful thing, but spending time apart from them is when I really grew as a person. I had no other choice but to be independent. I moved myself to a completely different continent with a 9-hour time difference. I was nowhere near any friends or family. I entered a foreign land alone, but not completely alone. Lucky for me, I had the warm welcome of a wonderful Italian family who introduced me to people who have now become very good friends of mine. Although I was a little nervous, I have proven to my family that I can survive being apart from my family. I have made stupid decisions here and there but I am young and still learning from poor choices. I connect this photo of my mom with my experience of being away from home. Just as we struggled through the narrow halls of endless stairs, I faced the almost impossible journey of being away from my family, friends, and home. I conquered the challenge and became a stronger and more woman because of it. As we made our way down the stairs with smiles on our faces, I am coming to the end of my experience in Italy with a grin. Although it is not over; I still have about three months left, I am thankful and happy to have made it past the hump. Once I got over the hardest part of being away from them, everything became easier and it seems like it is going by even faster. Thanks again for taking the time in reading a little background story behind this photo. I hope it inspired you or made you think. Check back tomorrow to look at the photo I decide to write about and share with you all!
 This is a photo of Jacopo, one of the children I take care of in my host family. I took this on the way to a beach town called Campomarino. This photo has much personal significance. Not only because of what this photograph represents but also because of what happened after I took this photo. After taking this, we eventually arrived in the town of Campomarino. The first few days were very lonely. It was honestly the first time I genuinely felt homesick. This was only because I had no friends. I didn’t have anyone my age to talk to. I was surrounded by grown adults and children. As a woman in her twenties, I felt slightly isolated. Despite these feelings, I decided to grow a pair and go out to the disco by myself. I decided to buy myself a drink. As I was drinking, I observed the young adults dancing. After I finished my beverage, I went to the dancefloor and started dancing. Young men would occasionally try to dance with me, but I would shove them away. In the midst of it all I looked up, and coincidentally saw a shooting star. I had wished to not feel so alone for the rest of my time in this beach town. Half an hour later, my vacation in Campomarino was going to change. It was half-past midnight and that was when I noticed him. Just a fair warning before I continue: this is a romance story, HOWEVER, I typically don’t write about romance. SO, please don’t stop reading JUST because this particular story involves a boy. If writing about a boy bothers you, you can skip reading the next few paragraphs. I was staring at him. He was beautiful. Tanned with light-brown hair. When he finally did notice me, I looked away smiling. He still stared at me. I knew this because when I looked back at him, our eyes locked. It felt as though we were the only ones on the dance floor. We were in a state of trance staring at each other, smiling, and dancing. He began dancing towards me. He moved his body close to mine. J Balvin’s “Ginza” came on and we both danced in sync with one another. Our hips moving to the beat. Our feet bouncing off the floor. Our eyes were locked. This was unlike any other time I had danced with someone. There was something about dancing with this man that made everything okay. I didn’t feel alone. I felt wanted and desired. I felt happy. After hours of dancing together, we walked away from the disco and towards the sea. There was something romantic about it being the two of us alone on the beach under moonlight. He led me by the hand to a long barrier made up of large boulders. We sat down, stared at each other and then up at the night sky. We looked around and saw scattered fire pits that were in use by teenagers. We were sitting down next to each other for some time, trying our best in communicating with each other. There was a slight language barrier and I think the mystery of him attracted me even more. When the time was right, we stared into each other’s eyes and kissed. I had felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I felt like a high schooler who finally got to kiss her crush. It was sweet and romantic and exactly what I needed in that time period. We met almost every evening after at the dance club. We also met occasionally in the mornings. He worked as a lifeguard in the beach chalet next to where my host family had rented beach beds. As each day and night passed, we fell more and more for each other. Which was hard for me because I was letting myself be vulnerable. The realization hit that the likelihood of us actually meeting again after this summer was highly unlikely. I think he knew this too. So when the time did come to part ways, we made sure to make the most of our time together before goodbye. I remember kissing him goodbye and getting on my bike. I remember it being about three or four o’clock in the morning. I remember crying the ride back to the beach house. I remember a feeling of loss. It’s the feeling you get whenever you get a heartbreak. I’ve felt this one too many times in my life. I’ve learned to cope with these feelings through writing about it. I think what made me get over this heartbreak a little easier was finding out he was already in a romantic relationship with someone and they had been together for over three years. When I discovered this, my stomach dropped and my face turned red. I was so embarrassed and ashamed. Although I hate what had happened after I found out, I would still do it over again because he gave me something that I wanted and needed at that time. When I look at this photo, I am reminded of entering then leaving a place the same: alone. However, I have come to the understanding and realization that it’s okay to be alone. Just because I feel alone doesn’t mean I have to let that get to me. I have embraced being alone and it honestly feels great. This picture is also a good representation of the innocence and eventual growth that is found in a child. In the beginning when I captured that photo I was ignorant to the language, culture, and a few other things. However, I have grown since that picture was taken. I have gained a grasp in the Italian language just as a child gains the ability to speak. I hung on to my homeland like a child to its mother. Now I have grown to let my “mother” go and appreciate her from afar.
We all have photographs that remind of us something that may or may not have anything to do with the photo itself. I think each and every photo has a story behind it. That is why I decided to share this story with you. This was very personal for me and I am not ashamed of my past of the choices I have made in my life. I hope this made you think whenever you look at some of my photos or perhaps someone else’s photo. Thank you for reading and check out what photo I decide to share with tomorrow! |
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