This is only a brief auto-biography, for those who do not know me, and a brief explanation of why this blog is what it is and will be. I know little of migration, I know what I have read on the topic, I know the migrants who have shared their experience with me, and I know my own experience. All of my writings contain these three elements, and none of them claim to give any sort of absolute account of what migration is about. Some experiences we share, as migrants, as travelers, some others, we share as human beings, some questions regarding our lives arise for many, regardless of their migrating experience. I hope that my writings contain elements where others, any others, can find themselves. That through these written words some bridge occurs where you, reader, might feel somewhat identified, with these experiences, these questions. However, these experiences remain mine. I have been so lucky to travel and to be part of different societies, and in this sense, I am grateful. I do not mean to represent anybody else but me, and yet that does not impede recognition and identification. So here we go, very briefly, this is my migrating experience and this is why I write what I write:
I am from Mexico City, I was born there and there I lived for 18 years. I moved to St Catharines, Ontario in Canada to study my BA, and I lived there for five years. The week I arrived, I cried every day and every night. I had dreamed for years to move there and yet it was one most disheartening experiences of my life. I was surprised to find out soon enough that such emotional storm was not unusual in young (and old) migrants. When I moved to Barcelona, the transition was significantly easier, not only because of the language, but because I had taken those steps already, the steps of "I don't know where I am and what this is all about." I was in Barcelona for a year. Then, I moved to Cork, in Ireland. Despite its tragic weather, no country has given me so much happiness and joy. I spent four years there while I finished my doctoral degree. I had made homes, somewhat, but I had never felt so at home before. Ireland is the home I chose. Its like when you choose your friends but not your family. I chose Ireland... and I left. Before leaving, however, I lived in Germany for a summer. I lived in Munich. I don't have that much to say about that and I will blame it on the short period of time I stayed there. I spent a total of ten years abroad, visiting Mexico at least once a year. Now, I am back home, my home, Mexico City. I have been researching different aspects of migration for five years (one in my Master's degree in Social Psychology), and I do not get tired or bored. Maybe its not the topic alone that isn't boring, but the fact that it speaks of human experience, of situations that shake us to the core, of how we make things and people meaningful and how they become so. I thrive and drown in the process of reflecting upon how anything comes to mean something, in a personal level, for anyone. So the focus on migration comes from my research, from my experience, but migration is a region that, although not everyone has lived in it, opens up issues that we face constantly. And well, that is the place, non-existent because it is really located nowhere, not in Mexico, not in Ireland, not in el Raval, not in any given geographical coordinates, where these words come from.
Here is Zitarrosa's song: For the one that leaves
I am from Mexico City, I was born there and there I lived for 18 years. I moved to St Catharines, Ontario in Canada to study my BA, and I lived there for five years. The week I arrived, I cried every day and every night. I had dreamed for years to move there and yet it was one most disheartening experiences of my life. I was surprised to find out soon enough that such emotional storm was not unusual in young (and old) migrants. When I moved to Barcelona, the transition was significantly easier, not only because of the language, but because I had taken those steps already, the steps of "I don't know where I am and what this is all about." I was in Barcelona for a year. Then, I moved to Cork, in Ireland. Despite its tragic weather, no country has given me so much happiness and joy. I spent four years there while I finished my doctoral degree. I had made homes, somewhat, but I had never felt so at home before. Ireland is the home I chose. Its like when you choose your friends but not your family. I chose Ireland... and I left. Before leaving, however, I lived in Germany for a summer. I lived in Munich. I don't have that much to say about that and I will blame it on the short period of time I stayed there. I spent a total of ten years abroad, visiting Mexico at least once a year. Now, I am back home, my home, Mexico City. I have been researching different aspects of migration for five years (one in my Master's degree in Social Psychology), and I do not get tired or bored. Maybe its not the topic alone that isn't boring, but the fact that it speaks of human experience, of situations that shake us to the core, of how we make things and people meaningful and how they become so. I thrive and drown in the process of reflecting upon how anything comes to mean something, in a personal level, for anyone. So the focus on migration comes from my research, from my experience, but migration is a region that, although not everyone has lived in it, opens up issues that we face constantly. And well, that is the place, non-existent because it is really located nowhere, not in Mexico, not in Ireland, not in el Raval, not in any given geographical coordinates, where these words come from.
And if you feel sadness when you look at the path left behind,
Don't forget that the path is for the one that leaves as well as for the one that comes back.
Alfredo Zitarrosa
Alfredo Zitarrosa
