Random Thoughts and Observations on Mexico

We've learned that, in Mexico, we can expect daily surprises and frustrations. Luckily, most of these are not serious and are usually pretty funny. Most of these incidents would be less confusing and upsetting if we spoke some Spanish but, we don't (not yet, anyway) and so must take our share of responsibility for what ensues.

We've learned some interesting lessons around the cultural norms and practices including:

1. The word "manana" does not necessarily mean "tomorrow" in the literal sense when being promised a service or delivery. It really means "definitely not now, but perhaps sometime in the future - come and check back multiple times and then we'll see."

2. In a fender bender, even where you are 100% not-at-fault, you will still incur a fine, basically just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The municipal transit police attend the scene, along with insurance adjustors, and no involved cars/drivers are allowed to leave until the matter is settled between all the parties. This can mean standing around a hot, busy intersection for h-o-u-r-s while much wrangling occurs in Spanish, which is very unsettling - especially when you get the distinct impression they are starting to try and pin the blame on you (the gringos). At one point in our case, they actually tried to claim we caused the accident by making an illegal left turn against a red light, at rush hour, across 6 lanes of traffic! If we had attempted such an insane driving manoeuvre we would have been squashed like cockroaches long before reaching the point on the side street where the latina teen princess actually drove into us. Sanity prevailed when the two separate insurance adjustors did some CSI (crash scene investigation) work and forensically proved to her domineering father that she hit us, and not the other way around. Happily, we negotiated our 800 pesos fine down to 100 pesos.

3. Great marks in high school give you the opportunity to work for tips at the local supermarket...bagging groceries. Certainly it beats pushing a heavy wheelbarrow of food or trinkets to hawk up and down the beach all day, but still...wouldn't you want to give your "A" students something more inspiring in the way of opportunities?

4. Many gringos want to make friends with the locals and go to great and generous lengths to make, and then deepen, connections (bringing copious gifts and socializing/celebrating special occasions together etc). I think this is great for all the obvious reasons, of course. But, where I see problems crop up is with making "friends" with the people who are supposed to work for you.

Blurring the borders between employer and friend would be tricky in any culture. If you own any kind of vacation home in Mexico (we have a small 1 bedroom condo in a six-plex), you have to have a building manager, pool guy, gardener and maid(s) to maintain the place - year round. Even though you may only be here a few weeks or months of the year, you are expected to pay a decent price for staff all year round at the same rate, if you want to "retain" them, so say. So, you pay for regular weekly or bi-weekly maid service, even though your place is clean and closed up tight for months. You pay for pool and garden maintenance even though these will not be attended to regularly during your absence (after all, they are not even attended to regularly when you ARE on site!).

We not only pay a decent ongoing rate for these sporadic services (i.e., well above a Canadian hourly minimum wage), all of us owners also tip generously when in residence - under what I think is a mistaken gringo impression that decent base pay, combined with tipping and also friendship, will somehow help ensure that prompt and appropriate services are continuously provided.

But you know this formula (i.e., good pay + tips + friendship = good service) is not working when the already erratic pool guy/gardener shows up and expects you to serve him coffee before he gets to work! (And his "work" simply consists of over-chlorinating the pool and precious little else).

Our "pool guy/gardener" actually subcontracts the "gardening" to some other fellow who occasionally comes to cut our minute patch of grass. And neither of them ever wants to deal with the neighbourhood dog poop that gets deposited in our off-street parking area, no matter how often you ask to have it swept out. Guess there must be a sub-subcontractor that needs to be hired for doggie-doo disposal.

The bottom line for me on the issue is this: I already have enough friends. What I actually want and need more of is work from the people I am employing in Mexico.

5. Lastly, yesterday I learned that iguanas can't swim. I was relaxing alone in our pool, listening to folk rock on iTunes, floating face down on my lurid green Walmart air mattress and enjoying the heat of the 2:00 pm sun. Suddenly, I heard a commotion poolside and raised my head to see the neighbourhood cat, nicknamed "Mamacita" (white with some tortoise shell markings and one blue and one green eye) in hot killer-pursuit of a huge, lime green iguana - she was driving him right towards me! I was taking all of this "wild kingdom" moment in right at eye-level. I thought the iguana was going to land on me, but he sailed right over and plopped into the pool, while I rocketed off my air mattress and thrashed my way to the pool ladder - screaming my head off! In my nightmares I can never work up a good scream when scared, but not so in real life!

I didn't know where the iguana was in the pool and I didn't want to encounter him as I've heard they bite and have sharp claws. John, my husband, raced downstairs in response to my bloodcurdling howels and was able to scoop "Iggie" off the bottom of the pool with the pool skimmer pole, but only after the little green dinosaur had scooted around on the bottom long enough to start drowning. Then he was exhausted enough to be rescued. John then resuscitated me with an icy cold vodka martini so, all in all, a happy ending.

Todo bien.