Welcome to Mexico City

Moving to Mexico City has been…well, remarkably like moving anywhere.

Last week I packed the functional aspects of my life into two suitcases and two carry-on items, stashed the rest of what I couldn’t quite part with at my parents’ house, and hopped on a plane to Mexico City.

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Semi-obligatory airplane selfie.

First orders of business upon arrival included the usual moving activities: acquiring furniture and household necessities, getting directionally oriented to the neighborhood, letting friends and acquaintances know that I’m in town, etc. Not so usual? Hastily getting a miniature-sized ID photo and a clean bill of health from a local doctor to be able to start training at CMLL.

It definitely helps to already know the language. It also helps that I’ve stayed in the same neighborhood I’m now living in three times over the past four years. Plus I knew to expect the day and a half or so of adjusting to the time difference and altitude (I’ve lived the vast majority of my life at sea level. Mexico City is at 7,382 ft). And since my main reason to come here was training at CMLL with Profesor Virus, it DEFINITELY helps to have 6 years of solid lucha libre training under my belt (you need a recommendation from one or more well-known coaches to even get into that class, so I’m stoked as all hell to have that opportunity).

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Side note: Met Dalys on my first day of training. NBD. (…Lies: VERY big deal).

So, in reality I can credit good planning, experience, networking, and years of preparation for making this a smooth transition so far.  

Aside from getting settled, I’ve been using this as a decompression week. As anyone who has moved knows, the process is stressful. It was basically a month-long dead sprint to wrap up loose ends at work, liquidate my house in Tacoma, make sure everything fit in my luggage, and get my ass down to CDMX. I’m happy that part is over. I’ve been spending this week normalizing my lifting and training schedule and being a wee bit touristy before I buckle down and get to work.

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The weird part is letting it sink in that this is my real life now, not just a vacation. I’m sure that will hit eventually, but for now it’s pretty surreal that I just get to lift, train, and (once a new workshop gets set up) help make lucha libre gear… i.e. live my dream existence.

 

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