CoJack's Take
(I asked Cory to share his impression of the trip so far)
Other than the exhaustion, ultra violet exposure, dripping sweat, hiking, confusing currency and language barrier, Mexico has been a royal waste of time.
There’s nothing quite like pouring yourself out all day, collapsing in a heap of sweat and sunburned appendages and waking up the next day to do it all over again. It’s interesting how I’ve never felt closer to my brothers and sisters than when most people wouldn’t want to be within a light-year of them. Most people remember the time change but forget to compensate for the deodorant discrepancy. It’s similar to converting dollars to pesos (how ever much you use at home, multiply that by ten). However, all kidding aside, there’s something about being able to use that mutual exhaustion to relate to everyone. It’s no secret why we’re here: we’re desperately seeking God’s favor. We want to be His hands and feet and we’ve got the pit stains and bunions to prove it.
Most people think the Sun is about three hundred million miles away. They’re wrong; he lives just below the border. Think of Mexico as a disco and the Sun as the disco ball, only with a lot less (insert disco band here) and a lot more tan lines and dehydration. On the bright side (no pun intended), I’m making up for those other 16 years I’ve gone without a tan. I’m blistering (no, seriously).
As for the sweat, I’ve bottled and started my own soft drink company. My recipe is two parts sweat…and then some more sweat. Most people only get tan lines; however, I’m one of the lucky ones. Whereas tan lines are seen as an eyesore, nothing’s more provocative than my brassiere-shaped sweat stains. Although, I’ve probably lost a good five pounds in sweat alone; that or a kidney failed.
If you know me at all, you know one thing: this guy is made for hiking (sandals and all). When I’m not playing guitar, writing, with Whitney, reading, listening to music, going to church, hanging out at Munner’s, watching TV or taking part in any other activity known to man, you can find me a hillside. That being said, it’s almost worth it when you’re climbing a mountain to give people literature that may plant the seed of God in their life. Almost.
Nothing makes me feel quite as aristocratic as spending 11 of something on a Diet Coke (or Coca Cola Light). Not only that, but when was the last time you looked at a 20 dollar bill and were intimidated by Andrew Jackson? The guys on the Pesos look like they would disembowel someone for speaking out of turn. Think about how much more leeway we’d have when haggling if Mike Tyson or Michael Jackson scared the living crap out of the person we’re trying to buy something from.
As for the language, I’m a poser. I know my spiel and a few phrases, but after I get through with my invitation and the person has a question, I am forced to come clean.
“Lociento, no hobla espanol.”
Most people don’t know this, but Mexico has two official languages; Spanish and soccer (futbol). Luke and I were invited to join in a game this evening. Our Spanish isn’t what it should be so when we tried to explain to them how bad we are, they didn’t quite get it. Luckily, we’re both fluent in Soccer. Soon after the game began, they got the picture: we are terrible.
Honestly, that’s all I’ve done and all of it has been as experience and truthfully, ones that I’ll never forget. Nothing’s been a waste of time, except maybe the Gold Bond application. It’s amazing how the most menial tasks and duties gain significance when done in the name of God.
- Cojack (Mark Twain)
Other than the exhaustion, ultra violet exposure, dripping sweat, hiking, confusing currency and language barrier, Mexico has been a royal waste of time.
There’s nothing quite like pouring yourself out all day, collapsing in a heap of sweat and sunburned appendages and waking up the next day to do it all over again. It’s interesting how I’ve never felt closer to my brothers and sisters than when most people wouldn’t want to be within a light-year of them. Most people remember the time change but forget to compensate for the deodorant discrepancy. It’s similar to converting dollars to pesos (how ever much you use at home, multiply that by ten). However, all kidding aside, there’s something about being able to use that mutual exhaustion to relate to everyone. It’s no secret why we’re here: we’re desperately seeking God’s favor. We want to be His hands and feet and we’ve got the pit stains and bunions to prove it.
Most people think the Sun is about three hundred million miles away. They’re wrong; he lives just below the border. Think of Mexico as a disco and the Sun as the disco ball, only with a lot less (insert disco band here) and a lot more tan lines and dehydration. On the bright side (no pun intended), I’m making up for those other 16 years I’ve gone without a tan. I’m blistering (no, seriously).
As for the sweat, I’ve bottled and started my own soft drink company. My recipe is two parts sweat…and then some more sweat. Most people only get tan lines; however, I’m one of the lucky ones. Whereas tan lines are seen as an eyesore, nothing’s more provocative than my brassiere-shaped sweat stains. Although, I’ve probably lost a good five pounds in sweat alone; that or a kidney failed.
If you know me at all, you know one thing: this guy is made for hiking (sandals and all). When I’m not playing guitar, writing, with Whitney, reading, listening to music, going to church, hanging out at Munner’s, watching TV or taking part in any other activity known to man, you can find me a hillside. That being said, it’s almost worth it when you’re climbing a mountain to give people literature that may plant the seed of God in their life. Almost.
Nothing makes me feel quite as aristocratic as spending 11 of something on a Diet Coke (or Coca Cola Light). Not only that, but when was the last time you looked at a 20 dollar bill and were intimidated by Andrew Jackson? The guys on the Pesos look like they would disembowel someone for speaking out of turn. Think about how much more leeway we’d have when haggling if Mike Tyson or Michael Jackson scared the living crap out of the person we’re trying to buy something from.
As for the language, I’m a poser. I know my spiel and a few phrases, but after I get through with my invitation and the person has a question, I am forced to come clean.
“Lociento, no hobla espanol.”
Most people don’t know this, but Mexico has two official languages; Spanish and soccer (futbol). Luke and I were invited to join in a game this evening. Our Spanish isn’t what it should be so when we tried to explain to them how bad we are, they didn’t quite get it. Luckily, we’re both fluent in Soccer. Soon after the game began, they got the picture: we are terrible.
Honestly, that’s all I’ve done and all of it has been as experience and truthfully, ones that I’ll never forget. Nothing’s been a waste of time, except maybe the Gold Bond application. It’s amazing how the most menial tasks and duties gain significance when done in the name of God.
- Cojack (Mark Twain)
posted by George Welty at 3:33 PM
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