My love affair with Mexico began as most love affairs do: giddiness, infatuation, idealization. I don’t really know when it all began. I vaguely remember traveling to Mexico with my parents when I was little. I remember hating Spanish class in high school. Then, all of a sudden, I was a Spanish major in college. Poof- I’d fallen head over heels.

I loved everything about Mexico. I loved everything about Spanish, and I mean everything. I loved the music, the movies, the literature, the handicrafts, the art, the history…. I think a few people I dated were even jealous of my love affair with Mexico. Mexico could do no wrong. There were no imperfections, only slight eccentricities that were easily overlooked.

I traveled to Mexico or Central America whenever I got the chance. I immersed myself in local culture and did my best to live like a local. I brushed my teeth with the water. I ate at taco stands. I protested for local causes. Despite all of this, Mexico’s bright colors did not fade in my eyes.

But, sadly, there comes a time in every long-term relationship when the blinders are cast aside and we begin to see the other for who he or she really is. This is the real test. If, after rubbing your eyes, blinking a few times and finally seeing clearly, you find that you are still in love, you have a love that goes beyond infatuation.

This didn’t happen for me until I had been living in Mexico for about two years. I slowly began to detect little details that I had somehow overlooked before. Slowly, these little details began growing and growing until they were quite bothersome and impossible to overlook. I had cast away the blinders. I had woken up, rubbed my eyes, blinked a few times, and I didn’t really like what I saw.