What is it about Mexico that
so entrances (fill
someone with wonder and delight) me? After
a five-year hiatus, due to complications of Gregory’s Alzheimer’s, I am back in
Mexico and it continues to entrance me and invoke my corzón Latino (my Latino
heart!)
In the past, over a period
of ten years, we spent up to one month in Puerto Vallarta at Susan and David’s
Casa de los Arcos, up the mountain from the old town. Puerta Vallarta is a
large, bustling city of 500,000 not counting tourists and boasts all the activity
and businesses any large city would have as well as a multitude of bars, dance
clubs, souvenir stands, guest houses, small and large hotels, condos,
restaurants, the beach, and more.
This time, I am staying in San
Pancho with Jill and Lincoln, friends from Evanston, who live in Mexico for
half the year. San Pancho is a small fishing town of 2,000 permanent residents
and others who come for short or long periods of time. For the most part it
consists of one main street, running from the main highway to the beach with
shops, restaurants, businesses, local houses, condos, small hotels, and
guesthouses.
The two cities are quite
different yet both entrance and I wonder why I feel so at home here. I am not
ready to give up my U.S. citizenship and move to Mexico full time but the
people, the culture, the history, the food, the Catholic religion, the sense of
family … all beckon me.
One thought I had today is
that maybe it gives me the sense of living in a different reality, one with
which I am not familiar, and I find this challenging. Being in Mexico presents
a reality I cannot take for granted, cannot understand fully, one I must study
and process, and one which continues to surprise me with each observation,
experience, and interaction. Perhaps it makes life bigger, or renews, and at
least refreshes my reality.
Mexico seems to live “closer
to the earth,” a more basic, simple life in which each day matters for what
it is and where little is taken for granted. People are friendly and seem rely
on and truly care for each other. It is easy to stop on the corner when
encountering a friend or neighbor and spend time catching up or sharing the
latest news. People are easy with their smiles and their waves, even to seeming
strangers and visiting “gringos.” Passing strangers on the street make eye
contact and share an easy a “Buenos Días: or Buenos Tardes.”
The air carries Mexico like
radio waves broadcast from the studio of life. Smells, sounds, music, birds and
animals conversing, flies buzzing, trucks driving slowly down the street
advertising an upcoming event or the sale of shrimp or water or natural gas off
the back of a truck. They all compete for your attention if you allow yourself
to slow down enough to listen. Right now, I hear waves, several conversations,
a rooster mis-crowing dawn, chickens clucking, birds chirping, and “Gringo the
Cat” softy mewing for something to eat (she is a beggar!)
During my massage today, as
the therapist put more cream on my back the odor of the neighbor’s frying bacon
filtered in through the open brick fretwork, along with the families
conversation at lunch, confusing my senses a bit before I was able to separate
the lavender cream from the neighbor’s bacon. Open wood and coal fires add the
fragrant flavor of food cooking as well as the pungent smell of smoke. Even if
you have just finished your meal, the odors tempt you to eat a little more and
cause your stomach to yearn for whatever delicious it is that you are smelling.
Sometimes the scent of sewage mingles with the cooking smells. YUCK you may say
(or think) but one eventually is able to accept this unexpected combination as
part of MEXICO!
Often people ask, “Are you
worried the dangers of being in Mexico.” My observations lead me to believe that
the “hype” of a dangerous Mexico are overplayed in the U.S. I feel no more in
danger in Mexico than I might in Chicago or New York. If I was a member of the
drug cartel, a pusher or user, I might get myself into hot water, but I am neither.
I have only once felt threatened when a
cab ride in Puerto Vallarta seemed to be taking me into a “dark” part of town
one night when I was seeking a particular restaurant. Turns out I gave the cab
driver the wrong address and when he realized I was looking for the restaurant “Tapas
Barcelona,” he was able to get me to my destination without my help!
Leaving all my belongings at
home and “distilling my life” into one suitcase and one “carry on” is a
challenge but once in Mexico, nothing at home is missed or craved, except maybe
a good hamburger! And if you forgot to pack enough clothing, you can always buy
a close substitute. If you run out of a medication or personal care item, there
is always a facsimile available at the pharmacia where the person behind the counter, who is
professionally qualified to prepare and dispense medicinal drugs, can look up your
need on his computer and see the Mexican look-alikes he is able to provide.
The food in Mexico
is not like food from Mexican restaurants in the states. Chicago’s restaurants
are more authentic, Tex-Mex isn’t (which you would think should be more
authentic if only because of the close geographic relationship of Texan and
Mexico – but in my opinion isn’t.) The food in Mexico is Mexican, is all I can
say. At times it can cause Mr. Montezuma to visit, at times the food seems to
take a toll on my system; but even with that, the food is delicious and tastes “like
more.”
In all honesty, many
of the same comments can be applied to my travels in Italy, Spain, Paris,
Hawaii, and Canada. My style of travel is to be in a location for at least two
weeks and more, desirably for a month. I like to do the tourist things but more
I like to submerge myself in the culture of the location I am visiting. I like eating at the local joints, I like
shopping at the local food stores, I like sitting at a table on the street and
with my coffee, watching the world go by as translated and informed by a culture
not of my own.
But in all fairness
to Mexico, it continues to be my favorite place to spend long periods of time. I
love using the language. I remember the first time in a college Spanish class
when I realized that I was thinking in Spanish and no longer translating.
Eventually, to my amazement, I found myself dreaming in Spanish. The final arrival
at being literate in Spanish was being able to tell a joke in Spanish to a
native speaker and having them laugh at the punch line!
Bienvenidos a
Mexico.
!!!!!
ReplyDeleteJan
It's so awesome to see Mexico so vibrantly and colorfully through your eyes!
ReplyDeleteJan