The Border
Both of my parents were born in and grew up in Mexico. They had a different life experiences- a whole different country with different laws and a language. My mom was born in a ranch, called El Pie de la Cuesta. In English it’s called The Foot of the Hill. She grew up in small ranch in Topia, Durango. My dad was born in Tepic, the capital of Nayarit, a city as big as Sacramento. He grew up there until he moved to Los Angeles, California when he was a teenager. And for the first time I was going to go to Mexico- my family, the culture, the people,
I was seven years old when my family decided to take our first family vacation-to a new country, Mexico. All my extended family, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, second cousins, lived there. At the mere age of seven it felt like a whole new adventure. We started off by waking up early in the morning and driving toward Los Angeles, and I remember how my mom would be talking fast out of excitement and how she went on explaining the names of unknown aunts and uncles and third
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I remember the cool breeze and the cloudy skies. We ate a delicious breakfast there-chelaquilas, menudo, and conchas (Mexican bread). From there we took a taxi and drove for seven hours toward Topia. It was crazy. In Mexico, the faster the driver gets to the destination the more he gets paid, and driving at least 60 mph at least 5,600ft, is not fun. We were driving pretty fast through a road with no pavement only big enough for one car and not to mention that the fact that in Mexico, most of the taxis have NO seatbelt! I had a horrible headache and I butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and to my dismay… I felt something slowly coming up my throat and I remember
My brother kept coughing and wouldn't stop. I have heard a lot bad things of California that the people there treat them bad. That for Mexican it was hard for them to get a job. Hours later the truck all the sudden stopped we all looked at each other and got really worried. The coyote came and opened the door.
My mom and her family came to the United States from Greece with nothing other than some ambition. Their family of five learned quickly they would have to work in order to provide for themselves. Once my mom and dad met, they decided to move to California. They settled in a small town, located in the Bay Area, named Pleasanton. My brother and I were born and raised here.
It was about a 5 mile walk just to get to the border between Mexico and America, we would have took a cab to the border but the last time we took a cab it was a disaster. We waited in line to get out of Mexico for hours and hours there were probably a lot of people in line because there was no where to stay in Mexico and right when I got to the front of the line to give the person my passport to get out of Mexico I heard something behind me I assumed it was just another person waiting in line it sounded like they were dragging something heavy and metal. So I turned around to see a tall ugly man with a steel club. The he took duct tape and wrapped it around my mouth I was screaming
Once the grey stormy clouds started rolling on the horizon, something was coming. The smell of smoke was in the air and the grounds started shaking. That’s when everyone started running. It was another bomb attack where all the buildings were falling and people were fleeing. With all the chaos of people trying to run with their families, leaving everything behind to get to a safe place I had to stop.
“What was it like?” I asked, scrambling to keep up with my aunt. She paused, her tall thin frame standing in the doorway. Dishes lay scattered around us. Dinner had ended hours ago, and everybody was upstairs..
I had no recollection of my country and all I had at the time were stories that my parents would tell me about their lives in Ecuador in order to help my brother and I understand where we came from. When the moment arrived that I was finally going to visit my country my perspective had changed as I became fascinated and in love with Ecuador. During
I used to have this grudges in my heart when everything go hard that would made me wanted to blame my parent. But I can’t because I was not raise to think that way. When I come to America, I was eleven years old and no one asked me if I wanted to come it just happen in a second. I was in a cold place with extended family that I never met before and that one person who raise me and made me feel secure was still back in the country. I had to lived months without her and next thing you know I adapted and convince myself they are doing this because the wanted the best for me.
Day 2 Immigrant. That word gives me a label here. I am crossing the border to the U.S because my parents think it will give us a new beginning and a better life. I think they’re wrong. Our life in El Salvador was fine: We had a nice house and we were healthy.
I can’t really remember much from Mexico mainly because I was too young. Later I moved to Bell Gardens, California, a town right next to LA, I attended kindergarten there but then my mom decided to move back to Fresno. Already knowing English, I made friends quick and I really liked the placed I lived.
Today… Today was horrible. Why? Because an RPG Apocalypse have started. How i now well.. let me tell u Where iam. Iam with my friends Reymond in his room.
Moving to a completely place to another with so much unfamiliarity completely shapes who you are as a person and teaches you unique values. I decided to interview my mom, it was interesting to see how much I did not not know about her and the stories she told me about her life experiences. I learned about her struggles growing up and how being an immigrant affected her personally. We have a really close relationship and I feel that this brought us a little closer because I was able to ask her questions that I have never thought of asking her.
I was 11, we had a direct flight to Acapulco, Mexico. As the airplane descended on to the landing strip at the International Airport General Juan N. Alvarez, I remember seeing the ocean from the window of the airplane. I had been to Mexico a couple of times before, so seeing cluttered streets and compacted buildings was nothing out of the extraordinary for me. However, seeing child labor in the beaches was a real eye-opener. Children my age were selling candy, quesadillas, and many more goods to provide money for their families.
When we were done eating our breakfast and we went to go walk on the sandy beach. When my family and I were down on the beach we started to collect sea shells. My grandpa and grandma were helping my little cousin while my mom and I were trying to dig out a big shell. Have you ever been to a beach in Mexico?I have and the one that I went to was big and beautiful. It was a bright sunny morning
Every time we would walk the streets, people would smile and tell us “good morning,” even if we were complete strangers. And the food was amazing. I loved that they would make everything homemade and we would all eat together, not going out and buying fast food. It was vastly different from home, people were so friendly and there was always something to celebrate. In December, they have a traditional dance, Los Chinelos, where everyone dances on the streets.
I remember riding in a truck and traveling down the very bumpy road. The roads in Guatemala are dirt and you can feel every hole, every up and down. I thought I was in a dream as we were passing through the town. I looked around and recognized buildings and roads that I walked past many times. Flash backs of past memories flooded my mind.