Christmas in Mexico – Tequila, Tears, and Lots of Love

Musical Chairs (I'm in the purple sweater)

For this one I'll have to admit, it purely my personal experience, and I don't know if this is how Mexican Christmases usually are.

While living near Mexico City, I joined my wife's aunts, uncles and cousins for Christmas celebrations twice.

The celebrations started late Christmas Eve, and, if I remember correctly, we had attended mass before hand with my mother-in-law. The community where the aunts and uncles lived was about a 10 minute walk away. The community had been built up from cheap lots, in one of those places where residents built up, one storey at a time, little by little. It had been around long enough so the narrow roads were now lined with 2 and three storey homes, many flush to the side walk, and others with wrought-iron gates, almost all reasonably painted. While the community still has the distinct flavour of its working-class residents, and is by no means "nice" or "upscale," at Christmas time, with many homes decorated with lights, nativity scenes in the garages, to be seen between the bars of the gate, and Christmas trees to be seen through the windows, it holds a certain charm.


Upon arriving to the house where the great aunt and uncle lived, who are parents of the family  - an aging couple who partially raised my father-in-law - we were warmly greeted by all the family; my father-in-law's second cousins (who my wife calls aunts and uncles), their wives and children, some of whom were already married with infant children.

Some of the aunts, uncles and cousins chatting before dinner

After greeting everyone, and being made the center of attention for some reason or another (both difficult for me as an introvert - click here to read more) I was offered a variety of liquors.  By the second Christmas I spent with these uncles, I realized that I needed to make and express my choice quickly, otherwise various uncles would simply serve me the liquor of their choice (tequila, rum an whiskey are the ones I remember), meaning that I would have at least 3 shots waiting for me to drink them.  By the second Christmas, I also had baby, and it didn't seem like a good idea to be carrying a baby home for a 5 km walk (in case no taxi could be found) tipsy or drunk.  So, I learned I had to choose one, and sip it slowly, since the minute it was finished, another would be served, almost automatically.  At some point, one of the uncles would inevitably realize that I was going slow on the drinks, and urge me to finish, so I could start another, usually serving that other to push me a little more; this was, however, the only I way could discover to moderate the alcohol I was served.  (Of course, I did want to drink, just not too much.)

The large, long and delicious dinner included turkey, rice, various kinds of salad and gelatin, and something distinct to Mexico City's Christmas called "romeritos" (a thin, leafy vegetable cooked with mole and shrimp).

While dinner was being finished, one of the uncles stood up and gave a little speech.  The speech was mostly recalling good memories and thanking other family members.  The speech started with the usual happy but not very emotional tones that most such speeches start.  After a few minutes though, a memory of something very emotional arose (I didn't understand enough to get exactly what it was about) and the uncle began crying.  Soon other aunts, uncles and cousins were getting up to hug the first uncle, and making their own tearful speeches.

The first Christmas when this happened, I leaned over to my wife, asking if there had been some tragedy in the family.

"Nothing specific," she explained quietly. "This happens every year.  It's normal."

The second time I experienced the tearful speeches, I saw the same pattern, and felt assured in my wife's explanation.  I guess the combination of tequila, good food, having the whole family together again and sharing warm memories is a good recipe for letting your emotions flow.

The Piñata

The crying was over before dinner was cleaned up, and If I remember correctly, soon after dinner, a doll representing baby Jesus was brought out.  The doll placed in a sheet, and rocked while everyone sang songs to baby Jesus.  After the songs, each person in turn kissed the doll and made a wish. The tradition was fine for me, but in all honesty, I never liked the look of the dolls (click here to read more about that.)

At some point there was also a piñata, outside in the street, and a few rounds of musical chairs (see pictures).  I can't remember the exact order, though.

Afterwards, more tequila was served, some people mixing with grapefruit soda (Fresca or Squirt).  Some people began to dance in the small living room.

I can't remember exactly what time we left, but I remember that it was really late (not for the aunts and uncles - they were still ready to go longer), I was really tired and, despite my best intentions, I felt just a little tipsy from the liquor. There were a lot of hugs, thank yous, and invitations extending over the entire next year.  Fortunately, we found a taxi when we arrived at the main road.

While I'm not one for all night parties, I have to say that my Christmases in Mexico City were very memorable, warm and I felt a true welcome from my wife's family.

"Dad, I want to go pee ..."

Making orange juice with my son

For about the last month, every time I sit down for dinner, and I'm about to take my first fork full of food, or the first fork full of my second helping, this is what my 3-year-old son tells me.  Almost without exception.

There are two things I can't figure out.  One is this: why does he always need to go to washroom, exactly when I am about to start eating?

The other is: why haven't I started planning ahead and take him to the washroom before we sit down for dinner?  For some reason, the thought never occurs to me before, and just as I'm lifting my first forkful, I hear him say, "Dad ..." and in the pause that follows I suddenly remember that, once again, I forgot to take him.

For the last 6 months or so he has wanted that I do everything for him and with him; my wife and I believe that this is somehow related to the pregnancy and presence of the new baby.  So it's not even a possibility that someone else could take him, without going through a process of convincing that is longer and requires more effort than just taking him.  During the past month, 3 of his grandparents were here who were eager to do anything and everything for him.

Reading the Hobbit for Bedtime

"Jorge, let me take you," one of them would inevitably offer.

"No," he always replied with a clear confidence.  "My dad.  Only my dad," pointing to me, just to make sure they knew who he meant.

There have been a few times where he needs to go twice during one meal - once as I lift my first forkful, once when I just begin my second serving.  And he always goes.  It's not fake or consciously planned.

I'm going have to do something to remind myself.

Making pancakes with my son.

On the other hand, I should probably just enjoy the time that he wants to do everything with me and everything I do is right.  The only thing that I do wrong right now (in his eyes) is that whenever food runs out, he thinks that I ate it all.  For example if there was a package of cookies, and later there are none left, he complains - "Ai Papa!" starting with this Mexican form of scolding, "Don't eat all the cookies!"  When I'm taking food that he likes, he watches carefully that I don't finish the package, or take too much. Other than that, he sees almost everything I do as correct, and wants to do everything with me - for the moment.

I'm sure that a few years down the road he'll reach a point that he wants to do nothing with me and everything I do will be wrong.  Considering that, I'll enjoy this current stage while it lasts.

(Enjoy the pictures of some of our favourite activities together; not entirely related to this post, but nice reflections of the time we spend together.)

Come as you are ...

Sorry, this post isn't about Kurt Cobain, but it made a good title!

Today I had an interesting conversation with my mother-in-law, who is visiting for the Christmas holidays and to help take care of our newborn baby.  Seeing a religious pamphlet on the table, I asked if someone had dropped it off at the door, thinking that Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons or another group that participates in door-to-door proselytism had visited (as common here in Mexico as in Canada.)  It turned out that it was the weekly Catholic bulletin which she someone had brought home from mass.

My mother-in-law is a dedicated Catholic, but very non-judgmental of others' beliefs.  The simple question was enough for her to share some of her understandings of religion with me.

"No," she answered when I asked about the pamphlet.  "This is Catholic.  The people who come around to leave pamphlets are from other groups, trying to pick up a new member here and there,"  she explained very calmly and neutrally, as though I might not have known that much.  She went on to tell me that she had heard about some of the groups and even sat down to talk to some of them, but really didn't know anything about them.  She had figured out only two differences.  One was that for most of them, baptism was their only commitment, and after baptism they really didn't do much except go to some meetings. I guess she was probably referring to the contrast between the ongoing nature of Catholic Sacraments and the common Protestant belief that once you are saved by faith no further action is necessary, even if it is beneficial; of course this is an oversimplification, but you get the idea.

(Note: You may have realized that I just jumped from references to Jehovah's Witnesses and Mormons to Protestants; I've found it's common that Mexicans, especially Catholics or those who take little interest in the church to confuse and equate main-stream Protestantism with these other groups, although I'm sure that main-stream Protestants usually don't accept this connection, and perhaps not the other groups.  The connection is probably made since in their eyes, all of them are small, new churches breaking away from traditional Catholicism. To them, Presbyterians and Lutherans are as much upstarts or fringe denominations as any other group.)

The other difference my mother-in-law felt she had observed was interesting.  "In the Catholic Church," she explained, "we welcome everyone.  Whether people show up drunk, dirty, or in some other way unfit, they are welcomed to come to Mass.  Or if they're members of another church, they can still come in.  I don't think other churches do.  I think they send them away."

While I'm sure many Protestants would beg to differ, and I've actually seen cases to the contrary (a Presbyterian church in Toronto, for example, where people showed up smoking cigarettes or with their dogs), the idea itself was interesting.  For her, this seemed to be a good point, something which distinguished the Catholic Church in a positive sense.

The idea coincides with my suspicion that much of the criticism of Catholicism from those who convert away in Mexico stems from the fact that almost all Mexicans are "Catholic by default," including drunkards, thieves, and all sorts of unpleasant people.  These same people are openly allowed to attend Mass.  This gives the (false) impression that the Catholic Church condones this behavior.  (Click here for another post on this issue.) I even know Mexican gay couples who seem very dedicated to the Catholic Church, and I know for a fact that the Catholic Church doesn't condone homosexuality. (My mother-in-law made no mention of gay people, this my own observation.)

My mother-in-law gave the other side of the coin.  They do accept the drunks and others openly, and, she explained, they are often Catholic; they were baptized and confirmed.  Perhaps some of them even go to confession.  To her understanding his means they are really Catholics.  Yet they continue to live in unsuitable ways.  But to her it is good thing that they are still permitted to attend mass and count as members of the church.

I cannot comment on how non-Catholic denominations in Mexico would really react to people who show up that are very obviously out-of-line with their doctrine, but one thing I have noticed is that it seems to be a stronger Mexican sentiment that excepting people in whatever state they happen to be is a virtue, and this is possibly aside from the Catholic-Protestant distinction.  Especially when it comes to families, I've seen what might be very awkward gatherings because of people who've fallen out of favour with each other for some reason or another, including ex-couples and their new spouses together during holiday seasons.  The force of having a family together often seems to override conflict.  While it's needless to say that this doesn't mean the people talk to each other, they are together in spaces where they can can't avoid each other 100%. (The Mexican concept of personal space, or lack thereof, is another great topic.)  Even in terms of religion, I've mentioned before that my mother-in-law's family, which has converted entirely to Evangelicalism, accepts her warmly despite the fact that she is the only remaining Catholic.  Of course, not all Mexicans share this feeling of togetherness, but I believe that it's stronger here than in Canada.

Perhaps if this really is seen as a virtue culturally, for this reason it would give my mother-in-law pride that her Church demonstrates this virtue. Maybe Protestants would boast of the same quality of their congregation.  Or, on the other hand, perhaps it really is a distinguishing feature of Catholic practice.  I don't know enough to make any conclusions.

The idea of openly accepting all people as they are, even when you disapprove of their actions, is one which has had some degree of impact on my own life as well; it's an idea that I'll keep watching, and perhaps comment on again in the future.

I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas ...

Winter Day near St. Jacobs, Ontario

I'm someone who loves snow, and, up until recently, hated the beach. You might be wondering then, how did I end up living in Mexico, or even worse, Playa del Carmen.  I used to ask myself the same thing.  (The real reason was based in an adventurous-spirit driven decision, which, ironically, started the least adventurous, but probably most rewarding, part of my life.  Click here to read about adventurous spirits.)

I love just about everything about cold, snowy winters.  Tobogganing, skating, the white winter scenery, and, yes, even the cold.  I feel heat very easily, but I'm not too badly affected by the cold.  Last time I was in Canada for the winter (Christmas & New Year's 2008/2009) outside I usually wore only a sweater, a tuque and some thin gloves in addition to my usual clothes (running shoes replacing the usual sandals I've got used to since living down here.)  My wife, on the other hand,  was wearing long-johns, two pairs of pants, snow pants, 2 sweaters, a jacket, a scarf, a hat, two pairs of socks and winter boots, and still felt cold, even when indoors.  But she had never experienced temperatures below 5 degrees, so it was understandable.

I miss making snowmen and snow angles, going on snowy winter walks, and seeing hoar frost on the trees.   I miss seeing the unreal bluish world of a snowy night lit by the moon (with no city lights - it's absolutely beautiful!)  I miss coming in from the cold to drink a cup of hot chocolate.  I've never had trouble getting warm when it's too cold, but when it's really hot in the summer here, I can't find any way to keep cool; air conditioning just makes everything worse when you do have to go outside.

Winter Morning in Playa del Carmen

On the other hand, there are some things I've really grown to love about spending winter in Mexico.  Winter here is nothing like winter at all.  It is actually like early fall.  Since early fall in Canada is my favourite season (the only one I like more than winter), this is ideal.  Cold nights might get as low as 15 degrees, just cold enough to put on warm pajamas and a thick blanket.  Warm days rarely go over 25 degrees.  I've always felt 18 degrees is the most comfortable temperature to walk around without a jacket and use sandals. Slightly lower is nice to put on a sweater and socks.  This is in fact what the temperatures are here, well over half the day.

Another thing that I've realized is that a moonlit beach is as beautiful as a moonlit winter scene; even beach lovers usually don't know about this, since most of them enjoy the intense midday sun on the hot sand, covered with crowds of noisy people, neither of which are in any way appealing to me.  I've come to love the beach, but when it is empty, quiet and abandoned in the light of the moon, or in the early morning, just after sunrise when the air is still cool and the shadows are still long, providing plenty of shade to enjoy a relaxing breakfast.  There also used to be a somewhat hidden bar here in Playa del Carmen, which was very empty (probably the reason it eventually closed) and had tables out on the sand, and you could enjoy a drink with the cool breeze from the ocean.

Winter is the best time to be in Playa del Carmen, and it is also probably one of the best places to be in the winter, considering the general appeal of these temperatures.  I've managed to find my own little pleasures here.

To avoid drastic cold and drastic heat, my wife and I have begun throwing around the idea of living in Canada for the summer and in Playa del Carmen for the winter.  I can understand why retirees do it.  We'd have to work out some details about work and school, but it could very well be possible.

(Christmas, of course, is an entirely different topic, and doesn't really have much to do with winter.  I'm sure there weren't many snow flakes or toboggans in Palestine when Christ was born, but Christmas will get a few posts all to itself.)

Where NOT to Buy a Cheap Nativity Scene

Our Nativity Scene

This Christmas, because of tight time and a tight budget both resulting from the recent birth of my son, my wife and I decided to keep the Christmas decoration and festivity and decoration simple.  Tomorrow we are having a turkey dinner with our parents who are visiting, and some of our closest friends.  The decoration is a sparkly, green piñata, which is currently hanging quite decoratively in our living room, and a nativity scene; yes, we've abandoned the Christmas tree and garlands for this year, deciding to focus on the principal meaning of Christmas. We had been planning on advent candles and wreath, but missed this part since our baby was born just at the beginning of December.

Inspired by the limited budget and my love for the Mexican market places, I did what I always do when I want something good and cheap; I went to Colosio.

Colosio is Playa del Carmen's original working-class neighborhood which was build up from a politically motivated land invasion almost 20 years ago, and deserves several posts all to itself.  I arrived to the community's central market (the only one in Playa) by bus and soon found several nearby stores which sold all the necessities for a nativity scene; a simple wooden "stable" structure with thatched roof (I choose one that's about 50 cm x 30 cm, or about 24" by 15" - these are both very rough guesses), the green leafy stuff they put at the bottom and the figures of Baby Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the 3 wise men, a shepherd, a sheep and a cow.

My son and I setting up the Nativity Scene

After selecting the stable and leafy matting, I was about to take the smaller versions of the figures, when I noticed that Joseph was wearing black eye liner, with a very pale and sad face.  I looked at Mary, and realized that she was similarly grim.  The model of baby Jesus was not particularly joyful either.

Immediately I remembered the Christmases I spent in Mexico City and the tradition of rocking a baby Jesus doll on Christmas Eve, singing songs, then kissing the doll and asking for wishes.  While I have no objections to the tradition itself, I always found the way the doll looked rather disturbing, with a very pale and serious adult face, with semi-long wavy hair and dark around the eyes, on a infant's body.  Not exactly how I imagine Christ as a child.  While I assume not all the dolls are quite like this, I have seen plenty of these grim-faced Baby Jesus dolls around stores and market places - particularly in working class areas.  These were the same dolls that were being sold for the nativity scene, except smaller.  On top of the grimness, the colours were rather gaudy.  Purely out of curiosity I asked for prices, only to realize that they were actually on the pricey side (relative to what I expected in Colosio.)

Disappointed by the look of the miniatures (not the prices) I took my manger and hay and moved to the next store to find a different set of dolls, but just as grim, if not more so.

A Close-up of the Figures of the Holy Family

I had already been to the supermarkets (Walmart, etc.) since they were on the way, only to find out that they had pretty much sold out, and only had rather cartoonish looking characters that were over-priced (perhaps less-so than in Colosio, however.)  So I remembered a store that sells supplies for handicrafts and seasonal ornamentation.  I went across town to find out that they didn't have anything, but that the supermarket around the corner did (a Mexican store called Chedraui.)

Luckily, I found a nice porcelain set of suitably sized figures in that store.  I bought them, along with a string of LED lights, and that evening my 3-year-old son and I set up the scene.  He was thrilled.  He probably wouldn't have noticed the difference in the figures, but I know I would.

As for the figures I didn't buy, I assume the gaudiness is just the particular taste of the kind of clients who live and buy there.  But I really wonder if their is some real significance of the grimness and paleness of the figures.  Any answers would be appreciated.

(Sorry, I don't have pictures of the ones I don't like.)

WARNING: Mexico is DANGEROUS! Do not come here - unless ...

Are you safe in Mexico?

If you are a young traveller, coming to Mexico alone, this could happen to you:

It has happened to many unsuspecting and unaware Americans, Canadians, English people and even a few Germans who arrive in Mexico, taking their vacations – innocent tourists caught in a trap they never knew about, who never return home.

It happened to me.  I came to Mexico on a three week vacation, thinking I was coming for warm weather, a lot of fun and colorful culture.  I had heard some stories, but I never thought I would be the next victim.

Before my 3 week vacation was ended, all my great plans had been thrown out the window, and I met a Mexican woman; I decided to stay in Mexico, mostly because of her.  I cancelled plans for school, for work and what I thought was going to be a stable life back home, and have been living in Mexico ever since.  I've been with that same woman during this time, and except for a few staggered travel plans, we haven't spent a day without each other.  With her, I've gone through the thrilling roller coaster of life in Mexico.


At first I thought I was alone.  But as the four years have gone by, I've met more and more fellow expats with the same story; "I just came on vacations, but the day before I was supposed to leave ..."

They're here to this day, and married, or very close to it.  Some haven't even made the annual trips north that I have.

Don't think that coming with your parents, relatives or friends will help you.  I know one American who got to know his wife-to-be because she was a worker at their hotel and came to join the family in a game of cards.

Don't think that being a woman makes it any different.  I know almost as many young foreign women who were swept off their feet by a charming Latin stallion (well, OK, maybe not all are stallions, but that didn't make much of a difference; love is blind!).


Personally, I've never been happier.

But be careful;  If you are a single young, traveller this could happen to you, too.

(By the way, the weather wasn't warm - Mexico City was colder than Toronto that August; the culture was great, though.)

How many friends do you have?

Most people can't put an exact number on this (unless you count the facebook number), but generally, if you have only a handful of friends, you'll probably consider yourself an introvert.

There are probably as many introverts in Mexico as there are anywhere else, but Mexican culture is definitely extrovert-focused and dominated; mixed with a good dose of chaos and seemingly irreconcilable contrasts, these are some of the aspects which drew me to Mexico in the first place.  For this reason, however, especially extrovert Mexicans can be alarmed and concerned by introvert behaviour, and their concern is re-enforced by cultural values.

In September, when my son who was just under 3 at the time started pre-school, he returned from school during the first few weeks to tell me and his mother that he played and worked alone; he didn't have friends, or even other kids that he just played together with.

The first day or two, my wife understood, but after a week and even more so after a month she was concerned, wondering if we needed a special meeting with the teachers or maybe if he was still too young.

I didn't see any problem.  Asked him if he was happy at school.  Yes.  I asked him if he was happy playing alone.  Yes.  Both his teachers had also told us that he was doing fine.

When I was a kid in elementary school, I think I can count all the friends I had and played with for the entire 5 years on one hand, with fingers to spare.  I only ever played with 1 or, at the most, 2 friends, and avoided large groups of kids.  When there were visitors at home, I went to do stuff alone in my bedroom or sleep.  Of course, in junior high I made more friends, and opened up a little more in high school and beyond.

I told my wife this.  She wasn't shocked, having known me for a number of years now, but as a child she had been the complete opposite. Her dad would send her to buy something at the market on the corner, which should have been a 5 minute task, and an hour later he would have to go find her; she had stopped to talk to the neighbors, later she was chatting with the lady at the house ware booth, etc.  At family gatherings, she would get up and sing in front of her aunts and uncles.  I remember how much I hated when even a few of my aunts and uncles were focusing their attention on me to confirm that I still looked like my cousin (I wouldn't have minded looking like my cousin too much if she hadn't been a girl, but the unbearable part was being the center of attention.)

When we go to a party or to visit people, she enters the middle of the room, and begins to talk to just about everybody; I accuse her of picking the place where the majority of people can see and hear her, but she denies making any such decision - it's simply where she ends up.  My personal preference is to blend into some group near an edge of the room and little by little making rounds to talk to people, again, avoiding being the centre of attention.  This is difficult in Mexican culture since it's customary to greet everyone when you enter a social setting.  I got over this difficulty quickly, since Mexico leaves no room for hiding in the corner. As I mentioned in my last post, there's always the uncle who pulls you out for a shot of tequila and draws a lot of unwanted attention to the fact that you're not a part of the party; it's much easier just to go and greet everyone and dive right in from the onset.  My wife and I have been aware of this difference from the first months we knew each other.

After considering where our son's introvert tendencies came from, she became less concerned, and agreed that if he was happy, all was good.

Our son is less introvert that I am, and by month 3, to my wife's delight, he was telling us that he was playing and working with other children.

"How many?" we asked.
"A lot!" was his answer, spreading out his arms to emphasize the point - "a lot" is an expression which he liberally applies to any number greater than 2.  Recently he has even produced the names of the 3 children he plays with.

There are definitely introverts in Mexico, but I feel fairly certain that they are seen (and see themselves) as the "other people," the ones that are different from the norm.  Mexicans are, in general, fairly accepting of differences, but like to draw those differences out into the spotlight - a fact that can be uncomfortable for introverts.  Canada seems to let introverts keep to them selves a little more.

But, as the saying goes, if you can't beat'em you might as well join'em.  As a Canadian introvert living in Mexico, I've had to get used to letting myself be the center of attention, laughing at it, and even enjoying it. It's been good for me, just like it was good for my wife to realize that it was OK for our son to have only one or two friends, and even play alone if he wants.

Mexican Birthday Parties and Introverts

As far as I can can tell, a typical Mexican birthday party for children includes 4 standard items:

The Song and Cake for a Triple Birthday

• The Piñata - most people know how a piñata works.  Piñatas in the shapes of favorite movie/TV characters are popular.
• The Birthday Song & Candles - "Las Mañanitas" is more elaborate than "Happy Birthday" in both tune and words, with poetic complements like "the day you were born was the same day all flowers were born." Like "Happy Birthday" it is sung with the candles lit on the cake.
• The Birthday Cake.  After blowing out the candles, the child (or adult) takes a bite of the cake.  Usually someone shoves their face into the cake while they are taking the bite - a stark contrast to the lovely complements of the song. (Contrasts like this are typical of Mexican culture).
• A bag of Candies for the kids adds to what they already collected in the piñata.

Of course, other games and activities are often added.

Ever since moving to Playa del Carmen the already very festive season from November to February has been made even more festive with many birthday parties (one of which is my own on the same day as my wife's saint day.)  Today I was at one birthday party in which by the time the piñata was broken, the boy who was turning 6 was upset and sitting on his aunts knee, sulking.  I don't know about what.  During the song, he just sat there staring blankly into the candles.  He refused to blow them out, which his 3-year-old sister did for him in the end.  His dad took it upon himself to shove his face into cake.  He never did take a bite, and after his mother wiped the icing off, he went upstairs crying, and the party went on, everyone very happy and festive.

Although the parents told me this boy was just upset because of some meaningless temper tantrum, it made imagine how I would have been as a boy.  I was very introvert, and I hated being the centre of attention during the song and candles.  Getting my face shoved in the cake would have probably been enough to make me go up stairs to sulk alone for the rest of the evening.  For two of the four birthdays I've had in Mexico I did get my face shoved in the cake, but now, as an adult, it's fun for me. (Of course, playing the game of pretending to avoid it is part of the show, and makes it that much more fun for everyone when that unexpected quiet person beside you is the one to give you the shove; last time it was my mother-in-law.)  But as a kid things would have been different.

Even as an introvert adult sometimes Mexico can be overbearing; shortly after getting married, I visited my wife's uncle's home.  All the uncles and aunts wanted to see us dance together, which I'm not good at, and I don't like doing, especially if people are specifically watching me.  The more I protested, the more aunts and uncles joined in the urging.  Finally I gave in.

"You're right.  He really can't dance," said one aunt.
"No, no, definitely not," said another. "When are you going to teach him?"

I sat down, red with embarrassment.  The aunts went back to their conversations, and the uncles went back to offering every type of liquor they had available; "offering" means pouring a glass of liquor and putting in front of you, then asking if you wouldn't prefer to have another in addition (replacement or refusal weren't options.)  No body, except me, seemed to give the bad dance performance any further thought.

Today my parents, who are visiting, saw the preparations for the party across the road and the large number of guests and thought it must be a special age.  As far as I can tell, 6 years isn't one of the special parties. In general, however, I think birthdays here get much more attention.  By our standards, they might be overdone; but by any standards Mexican parties are a lot of fun.

On the whole, I believe being an introvert kid in Mexico would be harder than being an introvert kid in a country like Canada.  I'll be writing more on this in days to come.

What language does your dog speak?

My Son and Our Dog

My dog speaks English; at least he responds to English commands better than Spanish ones.

One day my wife was at the vet with a friend of ours, and she repeated over and over, with absolutely no result "sienta te."  Finally she said, "Simba, sit." The dog sat immediately.

The reason for this is clear; I've always been the dog-lover in the couple, and I was the one who did the little training which our dog had.  He responds to "come" much better than to "ven" and upon the command "go home" runs directly to our door.

My three-year-old, however, disagrees. He has started stringing more words together and distinguishing his English sentences from his Spanish sentences, he has started talking in Spanish to the dog.  One day when I noticed this, and asked him, "Does Simba speak English or Spanish?"

"Spanish," was his immediate and very confident answer.

So I demonstrated to him that the dog responds much better to English.

"No," he replied with unwavering confidence, "Simba speak Spanish.  English, NO."

During this last week, since our second son was born, I noticed the three-year-old also speaks Spanish to the baby.  So, I also asked about the baby's language.  Again, Spanish was the final answer.  I demonstrated that I could speak English to the baby.  That was fine, but the older brother insisted that the baby spoke Spanish, not English.

So, worried about the status of English in my child's world, I asked him if he spoke English or Spanish.

"Both."  At least that was a relief.

I'm going to persist with the dog, however.  Our dog speaks English.  Even the neighbors know that, and have learned a handful of English commands just for him.  Hopefully, I can get my son to acknowledge this at some point.

Childbirth in IMSS - Mexico's Social Insurance Health Care System

The new IMSS hospital where my son was born

Over the past week and an a half, I haven't been posting much, because exactly a week ago my second son was born!  (I'm finally getting back into the rhythm of day to day life again, so I think my posts should be a little more on track again.)  This is, precisely, the event that I'm going to write about today.

In my last post, 2 days ago, I  wrote about the variety in Mexico's health care, and the difference between private health care, and the cheaper options whether public, charity or just inexpensive private services.  I mentioned the Mexican Institute for Social Security (IMSS) which is a government-run system funded primarily by deductions from workers' checks; the same workers who get the deductions have access to the service.  A small number of people also pay an annual insurance fee, which works just like any private insurance, but is cheaper.

It was in a hospital from IMSS where my son was born.  The hospital is brand new, offering long-awaited specialized services to the IMSS system for Playa del Carmen, which so far had only been a family health care clinic (see picture.)  The new hospital is very well organized, looks nice, has plenty of seating in the waiting areas (this contrasts to the old clinic, where people waiting usually have to stand up.)  The seats are also shiny stainless steel and relatively comfortable; I sat on one for 12 hours, and felt fine.

A lot of Mexicans, especially from Mexico City it seems, have a very negative impression of IMSS, and there are some of horror stories kicking around; I even found a few on the internet for Cancun. 

The service we had in the new hospital, however, was amazing, with no complaints.

We didn't just trust luck, however, or pick IMSS just because it was cheaper for us; we investigated just like we would private health care service.  When we found out my wife was pregnant, we began doing our research and investigated several private hospitals.  The least expensive option was about $1500 dollars for a natural birth, or $1800 for a c-section.  Since from what I understand about 60% percent of births in Mexico end up being c-sections, we decided to count on this expense.

Partway through the pregnancy we got work coverage through IMSS, and we investigated to find out that they do cover childbirth for those covered through work even if they were covered only after the pregnancy started.  So we began to consider this as option.  With all the negative opinions out there about IMSS, we decided to get some first hand stories.

The IMSS Family Health Clinic

My first boss in Cuernavaca had already told us that both his children were born in IMSS, and the service was excellent for childbirth.  But this was 15-20 years ago in a city a couple thousand kilometers away.  At the time, our brand-new IMSS hospital here in Playa had not yet opened, and the clinic didn't handle childbirth; this was only done in Cancun.

So, we set to work looking for neighbors who had recently had babies and asking them if they had been born in IMSS.  We found about 3 or 4, and all of them had the same story; excellent service, no problems.

We continued our investigation and found only two downsides.  One is that you get the doctor who happens to be there at the moment; no matter who your doctor is, or even if you have a specific time programmed, you wouldn't know who the doctor will be, and even if you did, there would simply be no choice in the matter.  Since all feedback had been positive, we weren't too concerned about this fact.

The other was that the father cannot be in the delivery room.  I believe that this is important; but when it came right down to it, my wife and I sat down one evening and realized that this was our only real hesitation; so we asked ourselves, "Is this worth $2000 dollars?"

Our answer was "No."  As important as this, we know that many mothers have had their children without their husband at their side, including her with our first son.  We decided to have our baby in IMSS.

The only third difficulty was the fact that it had to be in Cancun, about 45 minutes away; IMSS offers an ambulance service from Playa, but we did some calculation and realized that even 2 taxis and a hotel room would total about $150 dollars at the most.  Several neighbors had offered us rides or to lend us their cars as well.

This issue, however, sorted itself out; we knew the new hospital would be opening around the same time the baby was born.  When it finally opened, we went for a few check ups and tried out the emergency room services (that's where people go in for child birth); everything was great, and the service was good.  (This contrasts to the family clinic, where the receptionists always talk to you like you've done something wrong and you're wasting their time; the doctors, even there, however, are usually helpful.) 3 days before the baby was born, our neighbor, who works there, informed us that the first 2 deliveries had taken place the night before; everything was set to have our baby in the new IMSS hospital a 10 minute taxi ride away from our house.

The night before the baby was born, my wife had been feeling intense contractions for almost 20 hours, and she was admitted to the hospital at 8 pm.

• At 9 pm the doctor informed me that they would be giving her an injection to help ease the pain since her tolerance for the pain was lower than normal.
• At 11:30 pm, the doctor gave me another update, telling me everything was going well - slowly but well.
• Until about 4 am I had been  fairly calm, knowing that during the night shift, news was only given if there was some complication.  No news was good news.  I had read about 100 pages of The Lord of the Rings in the waiting room, waiting for any announcement. I started getting nervous, excited etc., certain that my child had been born.  I went out for a few short walks, getting some coffee at the nearby all-night convenience store.
• At 6 am, I started getting phone calls from my parents and in-laws wondering why there wasn't any news yet.  I had to explain the system to them.  Needless to say, the phone calls made me more anxious to get the news.
• At 8 am, the day shift finally arrived, and the nurse finally had news!  The baby had been born at 6:40 am.  Both the mother and baby were fine, and were in recovery.  Since everything had gone well, my wife and the baby would be released at around 1 pm.  I went home to rest.  I slept for only about half an hour, and took a shower, shaved, made a lot of phone calls.
• At 12:30 pm went back to the hospital with my 3 year old son and my mother-in-law.  I entered to help my wife change, hold my baby for the first time and take care of the documentation.  The couple I work for were kind enough to come and pick us up at the hospital, and were waiting for us in the waiting room.

The Baby's First Picture - In the Waiting Room

On the way home, my wife said it had been a hard, long labour, but the service had, again, been excellent.  The whole night either the doctor or the nurse was with her.  At one point the nurse put on music, and was very supportive during the most difficult parts.  She said that they treated her even better than where our first son was born, which is a reputable hospital in Mexico City specialized in childbirth.  She said she couldn't have been happier with the service!

Perhaps the most difficult part was the bureaucracy we had to go through in the family clinic in the earlier stages of the pregnancy; but that belongs to another post, where I'll complain about all my encounters with Mexican bureaucracy at the same time.

I don't doubt that other patients in other places, with other services have had their bad experiences.  But for us, the service was excellent.  We made the right decision in choosing the IMSS hospital for our childbirth.

Mexican Health Care – The Really Cheap Side of Things

The Playa del Carmen Family Health Care Clinic

One of growing forms of generating economic growth in many countries is what's called "medical tourism" which means that people travel to another country to take advantage of better availability, shorter waiting and, most importantly, lower prices, of healthcare. This industry, which is usually treated very closely to tourism rather than healthcare on a government level, has also been gaining a good deal of attention in Mexico. "High quality private hospitals for much cheaper prices than in the U.S., more personalized attention, and virtually no waiting lines," is the presentation, which is not completely off the mark.

What medical tourists may or may not know (or may or may not care about) is that the part of Mexican healthcare they see is just small glimpse of a very broad, and like just about everything else in Mexico, extremely contrasting system, or, more correctly, series of almost unrelated systems that form Mexico's health care options. In fact, the options which are presented to them, are the pricier, prettier, and frillier options in Mexico, which for the majority of residents here in most cases would be considered just too expensive.

Many of the Americans who are up in arms these days about the government controlling their private lives and enterprises would probably like what they see here; if officially there is government control, in reality it amounts to very little, as far as I can see at least. The only one constant control I've seen is that all practising doctors have to have a "cedula profesional" which is a professional I.D. number and certificate which certifies that they have completed the studies and received the degree required to be a medical doctor.

Putting my biases and political views on the issue aside, there are definitely ups and downs; I could write a lot about these (and I will in the future) but to begin, one of the real ups is that really, really cheap healthcare is available. As most socialist-leaning observers would expect, there is definitely a divergence between what's available for the rich, who have the best available on the spot all the time since they can pay for it on the moment, and what's available for the poor, who have to settle for whatever's available, often waiting long, and sometimes not even having access to some services which are readily available nearby, but not to them since they don't have the cash or the credit to admitted to those hospitals. There are a number of hospitals where, if you don't have a credit card on-hand with enough credit to cover the process and considerably more when you come in the emergency door (or the really big insurance plan), you'll be left unattended, regardless of your medical state. Ironically, these are usually considered the best.

On the other hand, there are some amazing surprises where charity or low-priced hospitals are among the best available. Some use income levels as criteria to admitting patients, excluding the rich; others use the medical condition as criteria and charge on a sliding-scale based on income level; others are just a free-for-all, and are used by the poor as well as the better-off who want to save some cash. Unfortunately, these are usually available only in cities. Places like Mexico City will, however, have a very large variety of very specialized, reputable hospitals in these categories.

Recently, I have been making growing use of two services that are very accessible in price; one is the Mexican Institute for Social Security (IMSS), and the other is a chain of discount pharmacies which often have a small doctor's office on premise (if you're Mexican or live in Mexico, you'll know exactly which ones I'm talking about). Tomorrow, I'm going to write about my recent experience with IMSS when my second son was born, and another day I'll write about why I choose to use those little doctors' offices in the pharmacies – the main reason is not always the price.