Chapter 7: It Can't Be True

I landed in Mazatlan, Mexico. I was to spend the next six weeks in total submersion with thoughts of Amy—I mean Hispanic culture and language studies. Clearly I made these plans well in advance from knowing about Amy's end to her engagement, or I may have never gone. Especially when I heard about the place I'd be living in for the next two months!

I can remember it vividly, like one of those dreams you wake-up from and pray it wasn't real. But for me, my reality was not a dream but a crushing blow to everything I thought was safe and secure.

Students from different colleges and universities from the States were gathered around and then divided into groups so the Mexican University could transport us from the airport to our living quarters. Our guide for the day began describing the different places the students in my group would be staying.

"Oh, you are going to love your new home!" He said with excitement to two girls from Texas A & M. "It is one of the most prestigious resorts in Mazatlan! You will have a difficult time studying this summer." He laughed and then showed pictures of the women's resort accommodations.

Student by student he showed pictures and described luxury accommodations. I watched the smiles, excitement, and anticipation build with each announcement. Then, he came to me, and suddenly the mood dramatically changed.

"Michael Smalley?" He asked, as if not to make a mistake. It was almost like a doctor coming out of surgery with bad news, and he wanted to ensure he was talking to the right family!

"Don't get too nervous, but you're staying downtown."

"That's it!" I thought to myself. "You just spent the better part of 30 minutes describing the incredible sights, sounds, and accommodations of the other students housing!" All I got was, "don't get nervous." My anxiety level was already high enough travelling to a foreign country alone with no friends from my own university. Now I'm being told not to be nervous!

"What do you mean … Don't be nervous?" I said back.

"Well … There was a mix up with your application—so this was the only place we could find for you to stay.

Not quite the description he'd given to the other students, but I guess it was all I was going to get. The following 30 minute drive from the airport felt like an eternity. I would be the first student dropped off because the others were staying in "The Gold District" while I was staying in the "don't be nervous district".

We headed for downtown Mazatlan where I saw poverty like never before. Animals, children, and food all sharing the same space on the street corners. I'd clearly lived a sheltered life until this moment, because I had never seen living conditions as bad as these. This would be my home for six weeks.

We finally pulled along side my motel. The old sign that used to have it's name was shot multiple times, and there was definitely not a "bellhop" there to help me get situated.

My first impression didn't quite scare me so much, until I noticed some of the students ducking down in their seats, fearful for what might happen to them as they waited for me to exit the van. I can't remember if I tripped out of the van or if I was shoved, but never the less, I was standing on the street with my luggage and a tremendous weight of fear on my shoulders.

Then Gustavo entered the scene. He would be my Mexican Mentor (as he liked to be called) for the next six weeks. It was Gustavo who would teach me the "real" Spanish I'd learn in Mazatlan.

When I asked Gustavo where my room was, I did so in English. Gustavo quickly informed me that he did not speak english, and that in fact, it would be a pretty bad idea to speak it in this area of town anyway. "The locals don't like you too much." He said with a smile.

"Don't like me?" I thought—internally weeping about my current situation. I want you to understand that my Spanish at this point in life was about as fluent as a my Russian, Hebrew, Arabic, Chinese, or any other foreign language you can think of—I didn't know any!

So it took Gustavo and I way too much time to get off that street corner and into my room where I would find my bed. Which is a kind description! It was more a nasty smelling blanket on top a literal slab of concrete. When I checked out the shower, which in hind-sight—was a mistake. The only thing—and I say thing literally—that came out of the spout was a slow moving blob of green goo! I didn't shower or brush my teeth for two days simply for fear of death!

I got so depressed the first three or four days of my stay that I felt the only thing that could save me would be a conversation with Amy. Yes, Amy could lift my spirits and take me far, far away from my dreadful situation. Amy, being so perfect, understanding, and thoughtful could help ease my pain and anxiety. So I called her.

Simple enough I thought. We hadn't talked for a while and it would be nice to hear from her. To remind her I was still alive and available if she could ever figure out just how perfect I was for her. Then I called!

"Hey, what's up?" I said. The voice on the other line took a while to answer.

"Michael, is that you?" she replied. "Aren't you in Mexico?"

She remembered where I was, which meant she listened to me, maybe even cared for me, maybe even wanted to marry me!

"Yes, I am." Was all I could muster.

"Isn't this going to be expensive?" she followed. I should have noticed this, because it would be a sign of life to come.

"Ahhhh. It's no big deal. I have a calling card and it won't be too bad." I said with little or no knowledge of what I was actually being charged. But I can promise you that my parents let me know the moment I got off the plane in the States, and I'm still paying it off today!

"So, how are things going in Conroe?"

"Oh they're fine. I'm keeping really busy."

"Busy—with what?" Which I will regret saying for the rest of my miserable existence in Mazatlan, Mexico.

"It seems the word has gotten out about my break-up with Eric. I think I've had four dates this week!" She laughed, as if it were actually funny!!!

"Really? Wow." Was all I could think to say. Then I got to listen for the next half-an-hour about all the dates and guys who are taking her out. One of which oddly mentioned marriage!

That single conversation almost made me break. I was already depressed by my surroundings and now I had to deal with the thought of Amy getting "hit on" by every male specimen within a thousand miles of Conroe, Texas! It was like she was a giant male pheromone!

Needless to say I wanted to go home. But God had other plans. Throughout my experience in Mexico, God was drawing me closer. For the first time in my life I truly had to rely on God for my safety and stability. I grew closer to God in those six weeks.

Near the end of my stay, while laying on my bruising bed, God prompted me to write Amy a letter. We'd had several conversations via the phone in Gustavo's office, and I'd become increasingly aware that Amy's self-esteem had taken a tremendous blow from her fall-out with Eric. I could tell in her voice that she still hoped to reconcile with him, and in fact, had yet to give back his ring.

So I wrote Amy a love-bombardment letter. Which is a game I used to play with my campers at Kanakuk Kamp in Branson, Missouri. It's a game where you sit in a circle and a person, usually me, starts off by saying something nice about the kid on my left. That kid then gets to say something nice to the kid on his left and so on. It's a great way to make people feel honored.

The letter was simply my way of making sure Amy knew how valuable she was, and that no matter what was happening with her fiancé, she could feel uplifted.

Understand, I mailed this letter from within the Mexican borders. So I thought the chances of this letter ever ending up in the hands of Amy was highly unlikely. However, God had other plans for the letter and you won't believe what they were!

© Copyright 2003 Smalley Relationship Center

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