From the Editor’s Desk: 12 Hours ⭐

It’s been a whirlwind month of travel. We got back to Mexico City Saturday morning at 4:00 am, exhausted and nursing colds. So we did the only thing we could do that day, nothing. And then we headed out into the world that night, bleary-eyed and discombobulated in that way that only travel can cause.

All I wanted to do was relax. Say hi to some friends, grab a drink and some food. And call it a night. And that is not exactly what I got.

We were sitting at the car at Cafe Tacobar, probably our favorite local place, and there were three people to my left who I took to be Mexican, but later discovered were one Peruvian, one American, and one Mexican. After excusing ourselves for being exhausted from travel, we were immediately thrown into a discussion of favorite local restaurants and bars, which is pretty common. Though in this case it was mostly them recommending places to us because they probably assumed we had just gotten there for the first time. That’s fine. I’m always happy to add new “Want to go” pins to Google Maps for later exploration. But then the conversation turned, as it must, to where we’re from. And that’s complicated.

I always find myself in these conversations.

We live in Pennsylvania. Are we from Pennsylvania? No, not to my mind. We’re from Boston, or at least I am. My wife is from the south coast of Massachusetts, and in the frame of reference of someone like me, who grew up in that area, that might as well be another country. But this isn’t worth communicating to almost anyone, especially someone you just met.

Further complicating matters, we’re in Mexico. And what I’ve found is that almost no one here has ever heard of Pennsylvania, or Allentown, which is the closest city to us there. Some have heard of Philadelphia. (“Rocky!” one person here called out when I mentioned that city, but usually I just get a blank stare.) But the thing is, everyone has heard of Boston. And so that’s what I usually say here. Boston. It’s just easier.

But these people are a mix, and the man sitting right next to me, the Peruvian, did live in the United States for a bit, and he speaks English clearly and without an accent. And so this simple question, where we’re from, is suddenly this complex mess to navigate. And so I paused to consider this. To such a degree that he must have assumed I was suffering from some travel-related fog. Which was a good assumption.

We’re from Boston, I finally said. But we currently live in Pennsylvania. Near Allentown and about an hour from Philadelphia. So I guess I decided to tell him my whole life story. I was exhausted.

But then it progressed, as it must. How long were we in Mexico City? Had we been here before?

Another pause. This is a weird area. And it’s something that comes up pretty frequently. People visit places. And then they go home. We are not doing that exactly, however. We are here. And we are in Pennsylvania. The schedule is not set, probably never will be, but we are...