I’m almost 25 years old and I realized before my dad got to Mexico City, I don’t remember the last time I hung out with just my dad. And for five days straight. Are we even going to have anything to talk about?
I grew up most of my life living a state away from my dad. My parents got divorced when I was 8. My dad and I were two peas in a pod when I was young. I went through a time when I loved sports (Go Packers!), always wanted to be with my dad. I idolized him. Then puberty hit. I dropped sports, joined the dance team, etc etc.
Before my dad got here, I questioned what we even have in common anymore. I see my dad as Catholic, Republican (what?!), saving for retirement (what’s the point?), married, business man, golf-loving 55 year old. We could not be more opposite, or so I thought.
Dad sends me a Mexico City itinerary days before he arrives. He books a nice hotel for us to stay at. Can’t lie that I was stoked about the nice hotel.. a break from couch surfing/cold showers. He did research on the area and wrote down places he thought we would like to see. Typical Jim Vondran behavior, always prepared.
When I saw my dad come out of the airport doors, I couldn’t help but tear up. My dad, he is here… in Mexico City!!! It was all too surreal. My dad was completely out of his comfort zone. In Mexico City, a “dangerous” capital city. He didn’t even know how to say “hello” in Spanish prior to his arrival. He was nervous, to say the least. My “take control, always have a plan” dad was in unknown territory with his crazy backpacking daughter.
The first day we check into the hotel then explore a little bit of the city. We verbally make a rough plan of what we are going to do that night and during the days we have together. We check out a city map and get an idea of where things are located. We both are comforted by plans and enjoy navigating a new city. We sprint walk the streets of Mexico City, strategically moving in front of people. People walk too slow for us. We both have this accidental “resting bitch face,” an unintentional serious/mean look when we are thinking, concentrating, or just scrolling Facebook on our phone. I realize after only one day, I am so much like my father.
The next day, we go to Chapultepac, a huge park with museums, a zoo, restaurants, and a thousand locals screaming for you to buy things. We go to the Modern Art Museum, after one art museum we both had enough of art. We then headed to National Museum of Anthropology. So cool. Go there if you have the chance!
We both have this restless energy, “k, what’s next?” Neither could bare a guided tour. We like to go at our own pace. I sometimes catch myself not enjoying the moment, always on a race to the next event or thing. My travels have taught me to just sit. Enjoy. Relax. I don’t always have to be accomplishing something. I see this in my dad, something that is both in our nature (fire signs, Aries and Sagittarius). Sometimes sitting and being present is just as much of an accomplishment.
The third day, we go to Coyocan where the Frida Kahlo Museum is. I fell in love with Frida Kahlo. Soul sisters. Her bluntness, her attitude, her ability to share her struggles through her art. God, she’s frickin’ amazing. If you haven’t watched her movie on Netflix, we cannot be friends.
The first three days, my dad and I were on a “no chill” streak. We probably walked a total of 2 full marathons or at least my legs felt like it. So-many-activities. The fourth day we decided to chill out a bit. We took the subway system. It’s 5 pesos (about 25 cents) to go just about anywhere within the city. We mastered the metro system with only one incident of Dad almost getting his arm cut off by the aggressive subway door. We squeezed into the subway, Mexican style, and took it downtown. He walked around for a bit with no real plan. I ventured off to Forever 21 (5 floors of addiction). Two hours and 3 shirts later, I finally escaped.
The fifth day was my favorite. We went to Teotihuacan, the pyramids about an hour away.
I realize my dad will never quit his job and travel the world (yes I did ask). And no he will not vote for Sanders or learn to salsa dance. He will continue to save for his retirement and golf on Sundays. And all that is okay. I think our five days together gave us an opportunity to understand each other a bit more and appreciate our similarities and differences. At our last dinner together I asked if he understands me more or if he still thinks I’m crazy. He laughed and said he does not think I’m crazy. He feels more at ease about my solo travels. He felt safe in Mexico City. I think he finally gets why I travel, why I couch surf and hitch hike.
Thank you Dad for being open. For trying healthy juices with chia seeds. For eating tamales and enchiladas con mole. Thanks for taking local transportation and for exploring a local market with me. Thanks for attempting to learn a bit of Spanish [you definitely mastered “gracias”]. Thanks for going to the hotel gym with me in the mornings. Thanks for listening while I rant about how ridiculous the United States is. Thanks for treating me to good meals and a fancy hotel. You are one cool dad.
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Have you ever traveled with a parent before? Have you been to Mexico City? What’s your favorite part? *comment below*
xoxo,
Court
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