Banking in Mexico

This isn't a "how-to" article, but just some brief notes about my experience.  Here are some points I've noticed.

1. I've never opened and closed as many bank accounts as I have living in Mexico.
2. This is because more and more Mexican employers are paying by direct deposit (which is super!!!)  But, every time they change their pay system or bank, you as an employee must also get a new account in their new system.
3. The "employee accounts" offer a good range of services for free!  (Very good thing.)
4. When you are no longer employed by the company, or the company through which you got the account changes banks, suddenly outrageously high minimum balance fees apply.
5. The minimum balance is usually low, and it's based on an overall average, but they are bad at communicating this with their clients, so if you don't close your account after the changes, one day you have a $20 dollar service fee (plus taxes) and you're not sure why.  The fee is irreversible.  (I'm sure if you complained enough to the right people, you could get it back, but is $20 worth the hours, days and weeks of headaches?)
6. Debit cards, etc. are becoming much more common.  Most accounts come with these features now - at no or little cost as long as you keep your "employee" status.  While small stores still need cash, just about any chain or large business will accept cards.
7. The 15th and the 30th/31st are payday for just about everyone.  They are consequently the absolute worst day to go the bank; it could take hours to get through the line.  The day before and 2 days after are also best avoided.
8. I've learned how to avoid these days.  Today, because of the combination of a few different events, I had to go to 3 different banks on the day before payday.  Not fun.
9. The best bank for waiting in the line is Banamex.  They give you a number, and you sit on a relatively comfortable cushioned chair.  When your turn comes, there is a little ring and and electronic screen displays your number, and the teller which you should go to.  This makes it really easy to read a book, plan your work, check notes, look at pictures, or anything else you can carry with you in your bag.  Unfortunately, this is the bank account that just went out of use for me, and I had to close.

I guess I should have #10 to round it off, but I can't think of anything at the moment.

For my experience with another system in Mexico - health care - read:

Childbirth in IMSS - Mexico's Social Insurance Health Care System
Mexican Health Care – The Really Cheap Side of Things

This is how I got myself a Mexican wife

The One Semester Spanish Love Song

My wife always tells me I should write a book called, "How to move to Mexico and get yourself a Mexican girl."

This video says it all: 

One Semester of Spanish - Love Song


If that doesn't work, try this: 

2nd Semester of Spanish, Spanish Love Song

Enjoy!

For another take on my story, read: WARNING: Mexico is DANGEROUS! Do not come here - unless ...

Interesting Expats part 3 - A traveller who never travelled ...

While some who travel, really aren't travellers, other ...

This one is not really about an expat, but someone who probably should have been an expat - i.e. live in a different country.

The second house I lived in Cuernavaca was a 10 minute walk from downtown. Right across the road was one of the many little convenience stores that people here open in the front part of their homes.

The owner had never travelled far beyond the area directly surrounding Mexico City.  His family - a son, daughter-in-law and 2 grandsons - were just like any Mexican family.

But this shop owner knew English, French and German.  He had practiced some English with Americans he knew in Mexico City.  German and French he had learned from those do-it-your-self language kits that everyone buys and no one really uses.  The amazing part was that he actually knew German and French quite well, well enough to get by in either of those countries.

I was amazed by this.  So many expats hardly learn the language of the country they're living in, especially if their spouse speaks their language.  When people don't have a compelling need to learn a new language (work, pay raise, a potential girlfriend, etc.) they usually give up their efforts pretty quickly, and are satisfied with a handful of poorly spoken phrases mixed with English - just enough to get what you want.

This guy learned 3 foreign languages, on his own, without any daily motivation to do so!

Also amazing is that he never travelled, or at least worked in tourism to put these languages into use.  Next time I go back to Cuernavaca I'll go back to that shop to see if he's still there.

I'm really hoping to get news that he's packed up and left for Paris, or something like that ...


For posts about expats, read:

Interesting Expats Part 1 - The Priest

Interesting Expats Part 2 - The Drunk "Dentist"
What is an "Expat"?

Interesting Expats Part 2 - The Drunk "Dentist"

Steve Martin in "The Little Shop of Horrors"

What kind of person do you imagine as dentist?

Imagine this.

A 20 year-old American, living near the beach, who's supposed to be living 3 hours away studying dentistry.  His mother, back in Denver, sends him money every Thursday to pay his rent and buy food so he can focus on his studies.  By Saturday, he has no money, for anything.  On Saturday night he's trying to convince neighbours to buy him beer.   Throughout the week he shows up at the neighbourhood shops (mostly run out of people's living rooms) and asks for photocopies, snacks, etc. on credit.  Usually he's very hung over, or still drunk.  When they charge him the 50 cents (5 pesos) he owes, he stops going the store.

I know a lot of people in their early 20s who are still working out the direction of their life, so most of this wouldn't surprise me - if he weren't supposed to be a dentist.

One day, back when my wife  was still running her own mini-business out of our living room, he showed up, reeking of alcohol, and started asking if he could see our teeth.  I passed on the offer.  We already knew that he had studied half a semester or something like that in dentistry before running off the beach.  He then started talking to the other clients and asking to see their mouths, taking their phone numbers, apparently to make appointments for dental work. (I'd like to think the people who gave their phone numbers were giving fake ones.)

Another neighbor who had seen his house said that he had a ratty old dentist chair in his living room.  I didn't ask about the equipment.

Would you let this guy stick a sharp object in your mouth?  I know I sure wouldn't.

For the story of a more socially responsible expat, read Interesting Expats Part 1 - The Priest
For a discussion of what makes us expats, read What is an "Expat"?

Interesting Expats Part 1 - The Priest

The Inside of the Our Lady of Guadalupe, Playa del Carmen

Yesterday I talked a little about the variety of "expats" who, blending in more with their Mexican community, go less noticed but seem to be much more numerous.  Although I ended the blog saying I'd like to get to know some of these, I actually do  know quite a few.  I'm going to post a series on a few of the most interesting of these expats.

The first is the priest in the Catholic Church in the working-class neighborhood of Colosio, here in Playa del Carmen.  His name is Father Bernard; he's Irish, and has been working in the Colosio parish (Nuestra Señora del Guadalupe) for over 10 year if I remember correctly.  He knows the community well, and worked in the parish in its early days when the community, which had recently been founded through a politically motivated, and illegal, "land invasion" was just beginning to take roots.  There were no city services or paved roads; water had to be brought in and electricity was run from a generator.  He told me the story once when I complained that there were no street signs; I thought it was because no one would use them anyway.  He pointed out that the people were just happy to have water, electricity and pavement.

He is also the principal (and the founder I believe) of a charity school which is run in some buildings on the church grounds.  I worked at that school for a year, teaching English to grades 4,5 and 6.  The experience with those classes belongs to a whole other series of posts; what belongs here, though, is that I am very impressed by his work (and that of the rest of the administration) to run a school with a solid level of education (the second best in Playa del Carmen, some people say) at prices the people in that community can afford.  The classes are offered to all regardless of their church.  From what I understand, many of the children come from the many evangelical denominations strewn throughout the community, often held in peoples patios, or makeshift buildings; the members of those churches are often among the poorest of the people who live here.

Needless to say, the children attend mass and have Catechism classes.  But even the most cynical observer couldn't criticize this fact; even if you have nothing good to say about Catholicism, you can't deny that it's a small price to pay for a good education that otherwise they just wouldn't get.   On the other hand, if you are Catholic or find their teachings acceptable, it's a double bonus.

I find Father Bernard a very pleasant person to talk to. He is hard working, dedicated, knowledgeable and clearly has a love for the community.

He makes it onto my list of "Catholics who I really admire."

What is an "Expat"?

A Real Expat

As a part of the group of not-rich expats in Playa del Carmen (i.e. the ones who don't own condos near the beach worth half a million dollars, or even a condo a few blocks back worth $150,000), I've realized two things about us.  One is, we blend in better.  We live in the lower-middle class neighborhoods, speak Spanish (somewhat successfully), hang out with our Mexican neighbors and are often married to Mexicans.  The other is, we really don't think of ourselves as "expats."

Officially an expat (shortened from "expatriate") is anyone who resides in a country other than their own on a long-term basis.  For internet marketing, businesses whose target market are anglophone North Americans, "expat" means people who have some money (not necessarily rich, just enough to own a vacation property worth $150,000 or more), don't speak Spanish, hang out with Canadians at beachfront restaurants, live in gated communities, or high security condo complexes, and only have neighbors from Texas and Italy (even though they live in Mexico.)  Interaction with Mexicans is charity and buying local handicrafts.

Of course, this is a huge generalization. I've met Americans with no money who speak horrible Spanish (and almost worse English); I've met people with vacation property is worth more than the sum of my entire life's financial worth (including the years I still have remaining to live) and are very in-touch with Mexico, Spanish and their local neighbors.  It's also worth noting that this has nothing to do with like-ability; I've met many of the other expats who are very pleasant people, and great to talk to.  They're just not into the whole "diving into Mexico head first" thing.  In any case, the generalization does have some truth to it.

Much more important than the money / no-money distinction is the adventurous / non-adventurous distinction (see Where's your adventurous spirit?).  Many Americans come down here for warm weather and beaches, and are kind of unsure about Mexican culture; living in a bubble of Gringos is just a more comfortable way of enjoying the sun.  Other Americans  come here to live in Mexico, and really enjoy a Mexican lifestyle, learn Spanish and become a part of the real Mexico; apparently these more "adventurous" Americans far outnumber the other ones.

While statistics are hard to get exact since there's no way to accurately count all expats, government sources estimate that 1 million Americans live in Mexico. Extremely generous numbers (probably exaggerated for the sake of promotion) place less than 10% of these among the nice resort communities like Cancun/Playa del Carmen and Puerto Vallarta.  Another 5% or so could be found in the towns of Lake Chapala.

These same stats estimate that between 400,000 and 600,000 Americans live in Mexico City and nearby areas; that's 40-60%!  (That would also be the largest American population in any city outside of the U.S.) But when you go to Mexico City, you don't see many Americans around.  My guess is that it's because of 2 reasons; one is that the city is just so huge.  You can easily half a million people in a city of 25 million.  The other is, they're probably the "other" expats; the ones who live in Mexican communities, learn Spanish, get swept away by a Mexican woman (or man), and lured into living their entire life here (see WARNING: Mexico is DANGEROUS! Do not come here - unless ...).

I would write about Canadians, but I don't have any stats about us, except that the the total is around 300,000, if I remember correctly.  I assume the breakdown of locations is similar.

The numbers are contrary to what people would expect; you walk down the main street of Playa del Carmen, and you're not sure if you're in Mexico; Americans, Canadians and Europeans everywhere.  There are "expat" bars that make you feel like you're back home.  On the other hand, you can walk for hours in Mexico City and not find a single American or Canadian - even in the "hip" neighborhoods.  That's because those expats are at home with their families, or at work, or in a Mexican bar, or at the taco shop.  They might be making enchiladas or mole for their kids.  They drink coffee from Chiapas.  Sometimes they're helping to start a new church, and may be working with mostly Mexicans in this task.  When they go on vacation, the go on roadies to nearby villages and places where tourists just don't go.  I'm sure, once in a blue moon, they go to beach. I also go the beach once in a blue moon.  Last time I went it was about 10 minutes away.  I hope that's still true next time I go.

It really wouldn't surprise me that no body notices the majority of expats; we're just here living our lives, quietly and happily (well, maybe not so quietly - that's hard to do in Mexico - but definitely happily), enjoying Mexico the real way.  Spring breakers and drunk middle-aged people working out their midlife crisis by acting like spring-breakers give Americans a bad reputation.  The others who just want their comfortable expat community, give the impression of distance and, sometimes superiority (this is a question of perception, not necessarily the intentions of those expats.)  Canadians have largely escaped those reputations, but it is still assumed that we can't handle the real Mexico.

But the truth is, the majority of us - Canadians and Americans - CAN handle Mexico, and LOVE being a part of Mexico - really a part of it.  We are the real expats.  But no one pays attention to us.

That's OK though.  If the others are anything like me, they don't to be paid attention to.  They just want to live their lives - in Mexico.  I'd like to meet some of them sometime and find out if my guess is true.

Gordon Lightfoot for Mexico; A Musical Exchange

Gordon Lightfoot -"Sundown"

This post was inspired by an off-handed facebook post I made.  This afternoon while I was working upstairs I heard Gordon Lightfoot's "Sundown" coming from downstairs; previously I had heard her humming the tune or putting on good old Gord when I was with her, but it had never occurred to me that she was actually hooked on Gordon Lightfoot!  Imagine that - a Mexican hooked on Gordon Lightfoot!  I would have never imagined it.

As I pointed out in that same Facebook we've had a nice little exchange of music tastes.  While I can't say I'm typically Canadian in my tastes, I do listen to Gordon Lightfoot (Youtube example - Sundown), Neil Young (Harvest Moon or Hey Hey My My for something more "raw" with Crazy Horse) and Leonard Cohen (Suzanne) (Canadians) as well as Bob Dylan - (his band a the height of his career was Canadian -  but I'm not sure if that really counts.) In any case I don't think these guys enjoy much of a following in Mexico.  When she first heard any of them, she didn't come away with much of an impression, with the exception of a slight interest in Leonard Cohen.  Now, she's completely hooked on Gord and Leonard, somewhat interested in Neil, but not much going on for Bobby, yet.  (Johnny Cash isn't Canadian, of course, but part of my musical "upbringing" if you can say that; she just makes fun of him.  It's not fair! - Ring of Fire) Gordon Lightfoot was the biggest surprise for me, since his style and thematic content is just so unlike what she listens to.

Armando Manzanero

She listens to Mercedes Sosa, Armando Manzanero and Julio Iglesias.  Although I could've known any of these before we met, I had know idea they existed, and only a budding of interest in very Latin American music.  I fell in love with Mercedes Sosa's powerful voice immediately.  Here's a YouTube video of one of her favorite tunes - "Gracias a la Vida" which has definitely grown on me as well. We were going to hear Armando Manzanero live at the last Riviera Maya Jazz Festival, but it was the day our baby was due, so we decided not to take any chances (he was actually born 2 and half days later.)  Julio Iglesias - well, if you ask me I think he's sexier than Enrique, but I'm not much of a fan of his music.  We also had a chance to hear Julio Iglesias live for the same event a year earlier but I forgot to tell her about it.  Of the three, only Armando Manzanero is Mexican, originally from a city pretty close to here (Merida.)  Mercedes Sosa is Argentinian.  Julio is from Spain. 

There are a few other examples of Latin musicians she's got me into.   There are very few examples of music we both knew and liked, such as Manu Chao (Clandestino) and Lila Downs (Paloma Negra); Manu Chao is someone I'm surprised hasn't enjoyed more success up north.   Just before I met her a friend had introduced me to Los Caifanes, but she has been a life-long fan - the belong to her generation from Mexico City, and beyond I'd guess (Hasta Morir).  A great Mexican band.  The lead singer currently has a restaurant here in Playa del Carmen - I guess it's really his wife.  (Slightly off topic, I've also heard a rumour that one of the Grateful Dead owns a condo in one of the nice gated communities.  Who knows if it's true.)  In a couple completely out-of-the-ordinary cases, I actually got my wife into a some music from mostly Latin traditions, like Bebel Gilberto and the Gotan Project, which I had become acquainted with only slightly before.

The funny thing is, our 3-year-old son has been able to identify who any given band "belongs to" fairly clearly for about a year now.  I first discovered this one day when I put on Pink Floyd while he was outside playing.  When he came in, he heard the music and complained; "Ai Papa!  No dad music.  Mom music."  He turned off Pink Floyd (something he had already figured out how to do) and asked my wife to put on something he could dance to - I think he was content with Black-Eyed Peas (that's definitely hers, not mine.)  The ones I mentioned in the last paragraph were the only ones somewhat confusing for him, but he clearly identifies "Amon Tobin" as mine; I
think he could understand musical distinction as early as linguistic distinction between his two parents

Our musical "upbringing" is on the whole fairly distinct.  I was raised sitting around a record player with my brothers listening to old country.   She grew up with her dad playing the guitar in a typical "trio" type band, who like to meet and play on Sunday mornings in Chapultapec - Mexico City's largest urban park.  (I randomly found him there once, wearing a nice suit, playing and singing.)  I think the style is called "bolero."  The only possible overlap in our early music exposure could have been the norteño music my dad loves - he grew up in Zacatecas in a Mennonite community.  But these records were, which my dad had gone to great efforts to find in Detroit's Mexican Village were rare exceptions to the usual Johnny Cash, Charley Pride and Marty Robbins (who, incidentally was heavily influenced by Gordon Lightfoot).  He could also play his favorite tunes on the harmonica.  The biggest coincidence is that one or two of these favorites of my dad's were also old favorites of my mother-in-law.  (The second very small overlap of about 2 songs in mine and my wife's musical backgrounds.)

Although neither of us is the kind of person who owns a thousand discs, and our musical discovery has been a little stalled as of late, musical exchange has definitely been a fairly rich part of the cultural exchange we've shared.  I think all couples share something like this, but we had the unique benefit of coming from two very distinct musical-cultural backgrounds.

P.S.  I didn't have time to put in a YouTube link for all of the musicians I mention, or even check if all of the links were the best one available, but maybe I'll check later.  I hope they're helpful.

The Speeding Ticket

The speed limit was 70 KM/H - about 45 MPH

Yesterday, I was driving to Cancun to get Mexican passports for my family.  Just entering the city, we passed a police check, slowing down to go over the massive speed bump like everyone else.  About five minutes later, a police car approached, and told me to pull over (they use a speaker or megaphone; their lights are always flashing.)

Once pulled over and out of the car, with my Canadian driver's license in the hands of the police, the officer informed me that I was driving 90 km/h in a 70 zone.  He was right. But I was actually the slowest car on the road.  I politely told him so.  He answered that he had been pursuing me since the police check, but I had been going so fast, that he couldn't catch me; I flew through the police check so fast that they weren't able to stop me there either.  (Really - a cop car that can't go 90? That's about 55 miles per hour.) He told me he would have to fine me 1020 pesos (about $90), which I could pay at the police station.

Knowing that arguing isn't a good idea, and tat I really was speeding, I said OK.  (The whole time I pretended I didn't speak Spanish and my wife was translating for me.)

I asked for the ticket.  The officer started writing the ticket, slowly, hesitating, and reminding, with special emphasis several times that it would be over 1000 pesos.  I said, "That's fine.  I'll pay it at the station."  Politely and patiently.

He put down the pen (before finishing the first line) and asked to see the registration. Suddenly a whole new set of "problems" appeared.  First of all, the registration was "invalid" since it was from Mexico City, and not this state (a typical, but entirely false, complaint for out-of-state registrations.)  Also, since the car wasn't registered in my name, they would have to seize the car and charge me with theft.  We told them, again politely, they could contact the owners to confirm that they had lent us the car (which they had, especially for this little trip.)

So, at this point, he went back to the speeding issue.  Driving that fast was really reckless driving, not just speeding.  It would have to be a much heftier fine, and combined with vehicle theft, that was good cause to take me into custody.  And I was an American, which meant the fine would be bigger yet. (He hadn't looked at my license closely enough, I guess.)  He would also have to keep my license as collateral.

We patiently reminded him that he could contact the owners, and for any other infraction, he was free to write up the tickets, which we would pay that day at the police station.  My wife showed him my Mexican electoral card to prove I was a Mexican citizen.

I added that I would have to see their police I.D. to copy their names, I.D. numbers for reference at the station, and ask about the specifics about these problems.  I got out a pen and paper to copy.

He put away his pad, and went to chat with his partner and came back.

"We're going to take it easy on you guys since you have the two kids with you.  No ticket this time.  But if we catch you on the way back, we'll take the car.  We're giving your info to the other police."  He got in his car in a hurry and sped away.

Of course, they were looking for a bribe.  Every point they made was entirely ridiculous, except for the speeding part - but even that was ridiculously exaggerated, especially since other cars were flying by me.

I can't say I'm an expert on dealing with corrupt police in Mexico, since most of the police I've dealt with have been very reasonable, and never asked me for a bribe (this is the second exception.)  In one case, when we were visiting Valladolid with my parents, and we were in a little accident that was clearly our fault, the police were actually helpful, polite and very fair.  People have told me that in Cancun, the police were never corrupt, until a large number of officers from other parts of the country started arriving (people always specifically accuse Mexico City, but the problem is just as bad in many other places.)  I don't know if this is true, or just one of those local pride things.

If what I understand is correct though, the best approach to take is:

• stay calm, NEVER GET ANGRY
• don't argue; you can give a contrary opinion, but politely, and carefully so that it's not taken as aggression; on the other hand, sometimes it may best to stay neutral
• don't offer a bribe

For me the last point is a very important matter.  Members of the police force continue to practice corruption because the majority of Mexicans will offer the bribe almost immediately to save the time and the money.  I know a handful of middle-class Mexicans who will spend half their day sitting at the road side instead of paying the bribe. At the end they are almost always let go without a ticket as I was.  (If you really do get a ticket, just go and pay it!)  But these guys aren't trying to save the cash; they feel strongly about corruption, and are willing to loose time and money to fight it.  I admire them.  The last thing these people need is foreigners showing up in Mexico who feed the corruption.  Being able to cash in on a Gringo is like a double bonus for that kind of officer.  So many foreigners think, "Well this is how they do it here, so ..."

If you are a foreigner driving in Mexico, and you get pulled over, just remember the three points above.  If they are just looking for a bribe, it's very unlikely that anything would happen to you, as long as you stay calm.  It's not worth their time; they can just pull over the next car.

Of course it's really important to remember that it's a different country, the police work in a different way, and laws are applied very differently, but participating in corruption is aggravating a problem that causes many problems for this country.  It's possible to respect the differences without participating in the problem.

Vacation for $100 - part 2, A Meal in the Market

Me and My Wife in Veracruz

(for Part 1, see Vacation for $100)

Over our stay in Veracruz, we found many enjoyable things to do, for very little money.   I remember one meal we had in the city's central market.  It was a pretty good fried-fish dinner, which included a drink, rice, beans and tortillas, for only $2.  I remember it being delicious.  That may be because I was really hungry, and I knew we had well under $50 now.  In any case, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

While we were eating, there were two local women sitting right next to my wife.  They were perhaps in their early 20's or late teens?  I was to involved in my meal to take much notice.  They were chatting during the meal, but my Spanish was still in early stages at the time, and with a local accent, (plus, again, my main focus on the meal) I didn't listen or understand any of what they said.

Later, walking away from the food stand, my wife asked me if I had understood what they were talking about.  I said no.

"One of them liked you," she explained, "and was telling her friend about it."

She went on to explain that the lady cooking the food had scolded her, saying that she should be ashamed to be talking that way about a guy when his wife/girlfriend is right beside him.  The first woman replied that she didn't care; my wife wasn't her friend, and she didn't even know her.

Far from upset, it gave my wife a good laugh.  It was surprising; this woman was sitting right beside her when she was saying these things. Bazaar. (Also bazaar was that at the time I had crazy, curly hair that stuck out every direction and a somewhat untrimmed beard, and wearing old, worn out clothes; not the "cool" kind, but just clothes that really were old from too much use - far from the image of clean shaven Latin stallion, well dressed, with his black hair slicked back.  What was the attraction?  I guess "foreign" holds a lure everywhere, tasteful or not.)

But the fish definitely was good, as far as I can remember.

Part 3 to come ...

Vacation for $100

Some people are impressed by finding a $300/person all inclusive package for a 1 week vacation - and I do have to admit, this is impressive.

However, my cheapest vacation ever was a 4 day trip for 2 people for $100.  While it wasn't at a fancy all-inclusive resort, it most certainly included everything (except a T.V.) and was 100 times more to my taste.

One fall my wife and I had only $100 (1300 pesos) and we were itching to go on a vacation before settling down into a more regular routine.  So, we left Mexico City, headed to Veracruz with these $100, a small suitcase, and nothing more (no back-up money!)

I can't remember how much the tickets cost, but I think we got a special holiday/student discount of 50%.  Needless to say, took the first good chunk of our cash.  I can't remember 100%, but I think we took an all-night bus to save the first hotel.

Arriving to Veracruz we took some time just to walk around the picturesque old colonial city center (our luggage was light.)  This city is old, charming, picturesque, and very non-touristy; if Veracruz had nicer beaches, I'm sure it would be a favorite for anyone. But since I never really cared for beaches anyway, it was perfect for me.  In addition to beautiful colonial architecture, the little wooden homes of some of the local neighbourhoods had their own charm - not "nice," but a flavour of a distinct working class culture.

Then we undertook the task of finding an inexpensive hotel.  First we had a few disappointments of places that advertised 60 pesos, realizing that it was 60 pesos/hour, and that they weren't the kind of hotel we would want to to stay in  (my wife naively asked me why anyone would want to rent a hotel for only an hour, and realized the answer for herself before finishing the question.)

We finally discovered a nice simple, little hotel in a historic building advertising for 180 pesos a night.  After a bit of convincing, they finally gave us a a room for 120 pesos ($10), asking us several times, if we would be happy without a T.V.

"It'll be hard," we told them as sincerely as we could, "but we'll manage some how."  Of course, we had no intentions of wasting any of vacation in Veracruz watching T.V.  But finding this room was key to making our $100 dollar vacation work. We paid the 3 nights upfront to make sure that side of things was taken care of.

To be continued, tomorrow ...

The Morning Edition - Why did I Move to Mexico?

The reason I decided to stay in Mexico, turning what was a 3-week vacation into a new life in a new country is an interesting one.  Perhaps in the future I'll write the story completely (it'll probably be a couple of posts.)  In the mean time, these are a few posts which refer in part or in whole to those events.  Enjoy!

• Tepoztlan, "Where UFOs and Witches Live Happily Together"

• Mexican Coffee in Toronto

• My Mexico City Experience - Pulque

• Would you move to Mexico?

The posts about the  Day of the Dead and Food also discuss some of the cultural features which I drew me to this country.

Tepoztlan, "Where UFOs and Witches Live Happily Together"

Typical home with the church's steeple (photo by Cecilia Marquez)

One of my favorite villages that I've been to is Tepoztlan, the village where I got married, near Cuernavaca, just south of Mexico City.  Part of the reason why we chose it for our wedding is that its very traditional, with little adobe homes, delicious restaurants, a very typical central market, and a beautiful view of steep, green hillside behind it.

It was also one of my first images of Mexico; when we had just met through a friend on the internet, my wife sent me a postcard and some pictures of the market.

The town is officially recognized as the Mexican government as a "Magic Town."  But there's something more "magical" about this town.  Up on the hilltop there is a small pyramid, overlooking the village.  It can be accessed by walking up a path that winds back and forth through a narrow cleft in the hillside.

People who live up near the hillside will report strange events near their homes at night - sounds, lights, ghostly figures and voices.

Many residents claim that they have seen UFOs up above the pyramid at night.

During the numerous visits I made during the year I lived in Cuernavaca, I never noticed anything strange.  But I was never near the hill at night. I stayed in a little room in the garden where we had our wedding, near the edge of town the nights before and after, but I didn't pay much attention to the hill.

A friend of my wife's (actually her boss, whom I mentioned in my first post about coffee, Coffee, Wonderful Coffee!) lived near the foot of the hill for a while and told us of a few such occurrences.

Me at Tepozteco - the pyramid on the hill

Because of this very reputation, my wife, who knew the town well before she met me, wrote on the back of he first post card she sent me, "This is Tepoztlan, where UFO's and witches live happily together."  Not a bad introduction to the town's reputation.

My experience has a lot more to do with delicious quesadillas, relaxing walks through the town streets, sitting in the town square listening to traditional music, and, last, but certainly not least, my wedding in the wonderful old church.  More to come on Tepoztlan.

To read more about places travel, try these:

The Day of the Dead - Different Traditions throughout Mexico
WARNING: Mexico is DANGEROUS! Do not come here - unless ..
A Different Kind of Beachfront Town - My Visit to Progreso
 Grandpa's Farm in The Isolated Hills of Mexico State - Part 1, The First Visit
New Hostel for Mexico City - Restored Colonial Building Downtown
Where's your adventurous spirit?

Mexican Coffee in Toronto

Ideal Cafe - Outside

Another post on the theme of coffee.

I first got into the habit of carefully selecting my coffee when I lived in Toronto.  Anyone who knows Toronto will know that Kensington Market, a little neighbourhood that was home to just about every group of immigrants to Toronto, also has the biggest concentration of coffee roasters.  Some of them are nice little cafes with a rustic atmosphere that, in addition to roasting their own coffee, also serve bakery items and some food.  My favourite of these was the Moonbean Cafe, because of it's atmosphere and it's variety of coffees.  I think I've visited everytime I've been back to Canada.

Others were more purely roasters, and had some makeshift seating around the entrance.  My favourite of these was Ideal Coffee.  The makeshift seating wasn't so great (although it's definitely a part of the alternative atmosphere their regulars like,) and one of my friends actually accused them of being snobby; it wouldn't surprise me, but to be perfectly honest, I was always to enthralled by the smell of the roasting coffee to take any notice of the people who worked there. The only things I remember about the place are the stacks of coffee back behind the bar, the espresso maker, which was operated by a hand pump instead of electronic pressure, and that, as good as the lattes were, it was too inconvenient to enjoy them there, since the few seats were usually taken, and they were too uncomfortable anyway.  The people - even the ones filling the seats - don't figure into my memory.

Moonbean Cafe

BUT the coffee was (and still is, I hope) amazing.  At that time, at least it was from Veracruz, Mexico.  I had discovered this coffee before I met the Mexican friends who would eventually prompt my sudden and unplanned move to Mexico (the prompting wasn't very active - mostly my doing on the great things they told and later showed me.)  This coffee, however, was one of my first Mexican experiences which little by little grew on me and fall in love with this wonderful country and all the great things it offers.

Having now lived in Mexico, I realize there was absolutely nothing Mexican about Ideal Cafe except the coffee.

When I first lived in Cuernavaca and began buying my coffee from the roaster in the local market, I realized some important things.  First of all, the coffee in Cuernavaca was just as good, if not superior.  Another is that the coffee in Kensington was sold for about 3 times as much; this makes since it's imported, and it was bought fair-trade organic, although it couldn't be sold as organic, since the shops hadn't been certified.  Also, the people in Kensington - especially Ideal - were hippies, punks or some kind of people who wore shabby clothes, but could afford to pay $10 for a pound of coffee or $3 for a cup. (I endured the price and forced myself to drink less coffee, simply since it was so good, and well worth sacrificing quantity for quality. I almost never bought the coffee to drink there for budget reasons.)  The people in Cuernavaca's market wore just about anything, mostly just plain jeans and a t-shirt, but paid $6 for a kilo of coffee (less than $3 a pound), and less than $1 for a cup.

I was thrilled to find this little coffee roaster.  It was purely practical for practical buyers, and for that reason offered low prices.  They had 5 different roasts and ground the coffee to your specifications.  It was delivered in typical two little transparent plastic bags - to ensure freshness, I was told - as opposed to the elegantly rustic brown paper of the shops in Toronto. (Mexico also has its trendy coffee shops, but not so much in Cuernavaca; places in Mexico City - I believe Condesa and, especially, Coyoacan - have some very nice little shops with amazing coffee, and I believe a number of them roast their own. Obviously a little pricier than Cuernavaca's market, but a nicer atmosphere than Ideal and still better prices. Mexico City also has enough shops that are purely roasters of its own - one of them is where my mother-in-law buys her annual gifts of coffee for us.)

Ideal Cafe Inside

I never begrudged Kensington Market for charging me 3x as much; as I mentioned above, I still go back there when in Canada.  They were my first experience with Mexican coffee, and that alone is something to be grateful for.

Thank you Mexico for wonderful coffee - and thank you Kensington Market for roasting it and selling it to Canadians!

By the way, if you live in Toronto, my recommendations are:  If you want to sit down for a coffee and a snack, go to Moonbean - I'm not sure if Moonbean's coffee is Mexican, but it's good.  If you want to buy grounds to brew at home, go to Ideal.

(As I've said before, Playa del Carmen is still missing a coffee roaster, but the Chiapas coffee I buy in a little shop in the old working-class neighbourhood seems fairly fresh - it also comes in plastic bags.  Then again, everything in Mexico comes in plastic bags, even orange juice.)

If you want to read more about coffee, try these:

Cafe de Olla - One of my Favorites!
Coffee, Wonderful Coffee!

A Gift of Coffee
"How Many Germans Does it Take To ...

Enough writing about coffee I'm going to go make myself one!

A Gift of Coffee

My Coffee from Veracruz
(I still need to buy an opaque jar or can.)

On more than one occasion, I have received gifts of coffee from various parts of the world.  On every occasion, I have been delighted!

Today was another such occasion.  A neighbor who had been visiting his family in Veracruz in December, suddenly remembered that he had brought a little packet of fresh coffee back for me.  I have wonderful friends and neighbours; he knows that  I love coffee. I often show up outside on the front lawn while the kids and the dogs are playing with a coffee in my hand, and I talk about it often enough.  But I was very pleasantly surprised that he was thoughtful enough to pick up a

package of coffee for me!

Tonight, while browsing posts on Facebook and other blogs, and waiting for my baby to wake up to give him the bottle, I tried out a cup.

First I smelt it.  Wonderful, rich and strong aroma!

Then I looked at it.  A moderately dark roast, and a just-below-medium grind, and very clean - very little of that powder that sifts through all but the best paper filters.  Perfect for my moka pot coffee maker! (See this post for a picture: Coffee, Wonderful Coffee!)

(I took my time for all of this; you will see why the process of selecting coffee in a store could take so long - see "How Many Germans Does it Take To ....)

Then I prepared my little moka pot, and enjoyed a very rich, strong coffee that in no way left me disappointed.  For the past week or so, I've found myself preferring my coffee black.  It was wonderful.

I love coffee, and I'm always excited to receive a gift of coffee!  Notable mentions include a package of Canadian maple coffee my brother once gave me, a very large bag of very dark and delicious coffee brought from Merida, but originally from an unknown destination, the coffee my mother-in-law brings from Mexico City every time she visits - again, I don't know the origin, but the roasters in Mexico City and the surrounding area know what they're doing - and a bag of green coffee beans my wife's grandpa was going to send with us once, but we choose not to take because of transportation difficulties.

Again, thanks to my neighbour for this gift of coffee!  One of the few things better than good coffee is having good friends!

(For a recipe on how to make a delicious traditional kind of Mexican coffee, read Cafe de Olla - One of my Favorites!)

"How Many Germans Does it Take To ...

... to buy a bottle of wine?"
Answer: 2 hours - or so my sister-in-law says. (Entered tonight on Facebook as her status)

How long would you take to choose a package of coffee, for instance, or a bottle of wine?

An important point to start; we're not really Germans, at least not like the ones who live in Germany.  I like to think we're kind of breed of our own. You're probably wondering who "we" are.  That's my family.  We don't like to rush things.  We like rushing much less than any other Canadians, or even Germans, I've ever met.  Germans are relentlessly punctual.  We are not; that would require hurrying.

My wife, who has learned to do everything quickly, has been quite frustrated by this point.  While my sisters-in-law have been similarly frustrated with my brothers, my wife is in a different category, since she comes from a place where almost everyone does almost everything fast.  Mexicans in general aren't rushed people, but in Mexico City in particular, people learn to do everything really quickly.  Most of the population eats no breakfast, or if the do, it's eaten on the run.  From the moment people wake up till get out the door can be a matter of minutes; heavy traffic and a fast-paced life requires you to make the most of your precious sleep hours, not wasting them to get up early and sit down for a meal.

(In contrast to everything that doctors here say about beans, coffee and chili, I believe this is one of the major causes of gastritis, since people don't eat properly until well into the afternoon, and then they eat greasy Mexican fast food - very tasty mind you; read Vitamin T - The Mexican Special for more info.)

She was in disbelief the first time she saw me get up in the morning, and, after my shower, take an hour and a half to prepare a full breakfast and sit down to eat it.  She thought it must have been because I was on holidays.  Little did she know that this wasn't slow at all.

The first time we went to Canada to visit my family, she was in similar disbelief when she saw my younger brother take 10 minutes to measure the coffee into the filter.  She later told me she felt an almost overwhelming urge to take the coffee away from him and do it herself.  She also said that she finally understood a little more about me, realizing that this was much more than a bad habit.

Members of my family, myself included, do take their time to do just about everything we can take our time to do.  Having to rush through something can be as frustrating for us as it is for our wives to have to watch us do it slowly.

On the other hand, my wife really does enjoy the results when I take my time to do things right.  When we make our own sandwiches, she has her sandwich ready in about 2 minutes.  Mine will take a bit longer (she claims 15 minutes - I thinks it's a little closer to 5-10, but at least 3 times as long as she does, in any case.)  However, when she sees my sandwich, she looks at hers, if anything is left of it, with disappointment on her face, feeling that mine just looks that much tastier.  I used to always end up giving her my sandwich (or whatever it was I had prepared) and making myself another one.  Now I've learned to ignore whatever she says, and just make two in the first place.

She also likes the the coffee & cinnamon hot chocolate I make from scratch; it's much slower than her instant chocolate milk, but 100 times better.  She doesn't have the patients to do stuff like that, as much as she likes it.

Some things she can't appreciate.  Like taking 15 minutes to choose the right kind of coffee.  Or, in the case of my brothers, an hour to choose the right wine or beer. Clearly my sister-in-law can't appreciate the delicacy of this kind of choice either!

I don't know if my sisters-in-law are fast people (faster than average) or if just being average is enough to be really frustrated with my family.  But I know that my wife is really from a pace of life that is much faster than normal.  For her, my pace of doing things was just unreal.  The same vice-versa.

We balance each other.  Sometimes she sits down to watch me do stuff, as though it's a show.  Other times she hurries me up.  Just as often, I slow her down.  In this way, we're perfect for each other.

For other contrasts between my wife and me, read:

• Have you ever flushed your phone down the toilet?

The Curse of the Eye

"Mal de Ojo" -  "The Curse of the Eye" or "The Evil Eye"

I guess to start, I should explain that the title of this post is a translation - an exaggerated translation - of a phrase in Spanish is very difficult into English, primarily because the idea is so foreign to English-speaking cultures.

Let me start with a story.  One day, a month or two after my first son was born, we went to visit her cousin. My wife went upstairs immediately to use the washroom, and her cousin noticed that the baby was fussing.

"I think he got hot in the street.  Do you clean him?" she asked as I tried to calm the baby down.

"Well, yes," I explained, thinking that I understood the question. "At least once a day, and sometimes more often when it's really hot."

"Do you clean him?"

"Usually my wife does," I continued.  "Sometimes I just take him into the shower."

"No - that's not what I mean.  Do you clean him - I mean, with an egg?"

I obviously looked confused, so she explained.  "Do you clean him from 'mal del ojo,' using an egg?  Sometimes when a baby is in the street, they get 'mal de ojo,' and it heats their blood up.  You have to clean them with an egg to take it away and calm them down."

Now I remembered: "I don't because I don't know how.  I have to get someone else to do it."  I had vaguely heard of the idea before

So, she proceeded to take an egg out of her cupboard, rub the baby's body and head with it.  She then cracked it into cup of water, examined the water, and discarded it.  He had calmed down by that point, so, the antidote had worked.

Later, my wife explained in more detail.  From what I understand, "mal del ojo," occurs when somebody sees another person - especially a child - has the desire to touch that child, and refrains from doing so, thus leaving themselves with a sort of anxiety. (In Mexico it is common enough just to touch a child which they think is cute, adorable, etc.  It is also common to touch the belly of a pregnant woman; in both cases, it doesn't matter if you know the other person or not.)  This "anxiety" causes the child that they saw to get "mal de ojo." ("Anxiety" is not the best translation, but the concept as a whole kind of lacks words that work well in English, since we don't have anything like this idea.)


"Mal de ojo" manifests itself - again, from my limited understanding - as kind of a feverish sickness that leaves the child hot, uncomfortable and whiny.  So, when children enter a home off the street, and are hot and cranky, it is almost 100% certain that someone had a desire to touch them, and didn't.  (Personally, I suspect the heat of the Mexican sun, combined with the mountain of blankets that people put on their infants at any time of year has much more to do with it, but what do I know.)  You can usually identify who/when it was, because you remember someone looking at the child.  If the person who "cleanses" the child with an egg is the same person who had the desire to touch them, it works better.  The child can also be cleaned by other methods, including sweaty clothes - I've never actually seen anyone do this, but I've heard and read about it.

When you crack the egg into water, the white leaves a "tail" streaming upwards; this tail contains the "mal" or "evil" from the mishap, indicating that it has been drawn out of the child.  This is what my wife's cousin was looking for.

A bracelet with a "deer's eye" to ward off "mal de ojo"

Apparently, "mal del ojo" can occur with people of other ages as well, but children are far more susceptible, (since it's more common to see a child you think is adorable, I guess.)  This is part of the reason why, in public many people will come and touch your child after they see them and make some comment about how cute they are; sometimes (but not always) they are trying to prevent "mal de ojo."  The other reason is that Mexican people are just a lot more touchy-feely.

You can also protect a child against "mal de ojo" by means of a red bracelet with a seed called a "deer's eye" on it.

I'm not a superstitious person, so I don't believe this really happens.  My wife, who is also not superstitious, generally, was actually convinced by her relatives to buy a bracelet and keep it on our child for a few months.

Many Mexicans, however, don't even see this as a superstition; it's simply a fact of what happens, and how you have to deal with it.  I once brought it up in an English class I was teaching, in which the theme was "superstitions," and several students were surprised that I lumped this together with four-leafed clovers and broken mirrors in credibility; everybody knew about it, much better than me, but no one had named it when we were listing superstitions.  Needless to say, by no means do all Mexicans believe in it.  There are plenty of non-superstitious and skeptical Mexicans.  There is a definite link to social class, but I have come across some surprising exceptions.

On the other hand, who am I say that it's not true?  Maybe in some sense beyond my understanding it actually does happen. Who knows.

Translation notes: The exaggerated translation for the title (together with the Eye of Sauron image from The Lord of the Rings) was meant to catch your attention, but the only other translation I've seen "Evil Eye," normally means something else in English, so I can't really think of a better way to translate it anyway.  The more correct translation for "limpiar" in this case would be "cleanse" and not "clean;" but since it is the same word in Spanish, which caused part of my confusion, I translated it with "clean."

(By the way, the first time I heard about "mal de ojo" I couldn't help but to imagine the Eye of Sauron.  No real connection, just my imagination.)

I don't really have any other posts about superstitions, but I have a few about religion, which is not really related, but something else to read.

(Update Feb 24, 2011: I just put up a post about Saint Death, a similarly wide-spread superstition with an almost cult-like following.  See Saint Death - A Uniquely Mexican (and Strange) Phenomenon)

Would You Do This on an Airplane?

Upon arriving to the Toronto International Airport for the first time together on a direct flight from Cancun, my wife noticed something unusual at landing time; all had gone well, and the landing was smooth. Upon completion of the successful touch down and the plane came to a complete halt, the passengers applauded.


"What happened?" she asked me, talking in hushed tones in Spanish.


"What happened? What do you mean, 'what happened?' " not exactly sure what she was asking about.


"Why did they clap?"-


"Hmm." I thought for second. "I guess it's because the flight and landing went well. Isn't that normal?" I was actually asking myself as much as I was her. I believe I've been on an equal number of Canadian flights as other flights; I could remember that on some they applauded at completion of the flight, and on others they didn't, but it had never occurred to me to think of why.


"Mexicans don't clap after a flight," observed my wife. "I guess we just figure it's their job, they SHOULD do it right." After a brief discussion we came to the uncertain conclusion that this was a Canadian thing. We didn't remember it happening on flights from Mexico to Atlanta or Philedelphia. We couldn't remember if it happened on our flights from the U.S. to Toronto. But the direct flight from Toronto to Cancun (made financially possible thanks to Westjet!) was the first to be virtually entirely Canadians.


So, now the question comes back to you; do you, or would you applaud at the end of a flight? Have you ever been on a flight where they did? Were the passengers Canadians? Is this something only Canadians do or are we just imagining stuff?

The Morning Edition - Citizenship

This is my second "Morning Edition" which is a short post reviewing a theme I've already talked about.  Today's theme is "Citizenship."  I'm a dual citizen (Canada and Mexico) and I get some distinct benefits from both.  Some people consider getting citizenship in another country to be disloyalty to your nationality, but I don't feel there is any real compromise in it.  If you ever get the chance, I think it's a good idea.

Last night I wrote about being a Mexican citizen, and how this contrasted to really being Mexican culturally, etc:

What really makes you Mexican?

My two other posts on Citizenship include:
Illegal Immigration - An Alternative Approach - About Mexicans heading into the U.S. illegally, and how little politicians seem to know about these people.
2nd Generation Canadians born abroad are no longer officially Canadians - About a recent change to Canadian law, intending to make Canadian citizenship more privileged, but also causing some real complications for a small number of Canadians who've lived in Canada virtually their entire life.

There's more to come on this topic as well, about the benefits involved, the process of gaining citizenship in Mexico, etc.

Enjoy!

What really makes you Mexican?

Mexican Passport

Officially, according to Mexican Law, a Mexican is anyone born in this country, naturalized in this country, or born outside of Mexico to a parent who was born in Mexico.  Because of this last one, I am a Mexican citizen.  I have a passport, and the official voters ID, national identification number, etc.  But neither mother (who was born in Mexico, thus giving both of us right to ), nor I are culturally Mexican.

While Mexican law doesn't have any real requirements regarding language, culture or ethnicity, to most of the world, including Mexicans and non-Mexicans, these three points define being Mexican, entirely.  So, how Mexican am I, really?  Let's consider the three points.

Language.  I speak Spanish half decently.  I have an unmistakable foreign accent, but I've got passed the point where everyone automatically assumes I'm a gringo.  I've had people ask if I'm French, German, and, even once - bless this person! - Spanish (they could tell I sounded funny, but couldn't put their finger on exactly what it was.)  Of course, needless to say, most people still assume Gringo, and I've got a ways to go before this one counts in my favour.

Culture. Mexican culture includes music, food, clothes, hairstyles, ways of interacting, concepts of personal space, and many other distinct features.  Let's see - I listen to some Mexican music, but I'd like to become more familiar with it.  I have Mexican food down; my wife is Mexican, and she complains that I make her eat to much mole.  I also eat spicier food than she does, and I know how to make a number of Mexican dishes, more or less authentically.

I loose a lot of ground in clothes, hairstyle, ways of interacting and personal space.  Although people aren't consciously aware of it, I believe these factors are actually as important as language and accent.  My wife sees people in the street, and says, "That girl is from Mexico City," without hearing them speak.  Their clothes, movements, and, I believe, even facial expressions are strong indicators.  While Americans and northern Europeans look the same, as far as "racial" features are concerned, they don't look the same in terms of clothes, movements or even expressions.  I think many people from countries with a well defined culture can sometimes identify their compatriots before hearing them speak.  The only fool-proof method I've found for Canada is the MEC bags (Mountain Equipment Co-op), but this only works for younger, back-packer-type travellers.  I've also found that more Canadians travel alone or in couples; but this is a huge generalization.  I don't think I can recognize facial expressions.

Ethnicity.  Specifically, the "Common ancestry" part of ethnicity, which more generally also includes the points above.  Mexico has no official ethnicity policy, as far as I am aware of (as opposed to what I've heard about some European countries, that apparently make citizenship easier for people who can prove ancestry from that nationality.)  But the most common ethnicity is Mestizo, or mixed between the Spanish colonists and various native peoples, and this is the ethnicity most people identify as "Mexican."  A very small portion of the populations (less than personal claims) is purely one or the other.  Strangely enough, I've known people who are very obviously of mostly native ancestry, but claim, very adamantly, that they are "Spanish."  Some of them are about as Spanish as I am Chinese, ethnically speaking.  By these terms, I'm just entirely left out of the picture.

Unknown to most people, Mexicans included, is that Mexico is actually is more of ethnic blend than this simple combination.  There have been waves of immigrants from places like Bohemia and Lebanon, leaving some distinct footprints in Mexican culture.  Some people have told me that out in the villages of Sinaloa there are tall, blond people who descended from the central European immigrants.  ("Tall" and "blond" are relative, however.)  One of the favourite kinds of tacos, "Al Pastor" (click here to see see a post with a picture) was influenced by Lebonese kebabs.

What should work in my favor, though, is the fact that my ethnic background actually has a strong presence in Mexico these days; the Old Colony Mennonites, or "Mexican Mennonites" which they're often called just because of this fact.  People in Mexico know who they are, and the cheese they make has gained considerable fame.  They've been around here since the 20's now, so many of them would only have "Mexican" to claim as their nationality; ethnically, however, they and Mexicans don't make any connection to one another.  Their situation is somewhat similar to that of many Jewish communities, with the exception that they have remained linguistically and economically distinct; while they speak a dialect of German (my "first" language, actually) and live in the country in fairly economically independent communities, all Jewish people I know here speak Spanish as their family language, have Spanish names, and live in the cities (in somewhat closed-off enclaves, mind you.)

Well, the bottom line is, if you have to sit around trying to prove to people that you really are somewhat Mexican, it's a pretty good sign that you aren't; true Mexicans don't have to prove it.  It reminds me of something Jewish again; I once asked a Canadian Jew if he was "practicing." His reply was that he didn't need practice.   Real Mexicans don't need practice and don't need evidence.

So, for now, I'll have to be happy with a passport, birth certificate and a voter's ID card.

Illegal Immigration - An Alternative Approach

This Caguama (1liter beer) may present a solution (See bottom)

Of course, everyone has they're own opinion about the issue of illegal Mexican immigrants to the U.S., and it's a really a very complex topic, with all sides making economic, cultural, political and social arguments that make complete sense - to the people who fall into each given ideological area in the first place.  Since I'm not American, nor is it likely that I'll ever be denied legal entry into the U.S., I don't really have much say in the issue, I guess.

So, instead of throwing my own 2 cents' worth into a bucket that already has a few billion cents in it, I'll just talk about my experience with Mexicans who've done it.  The following are a few points I've noticed.

Determination.  After being caught and sent back three times, I would give up.  Especially since if I had to pay what amounted to a few months' pay for the service of being taken across and picked up on the other side.  I've heard $1000 USD, and that it's usually borrowed money.  I've known a few people who were going back for round 3 or 4.  That money could feed their family in Mexico for half a year. I don't know how they manage to make the whole thing profitable.  In one case, judging by the under-nourished look of the man's children, I don't think he did.  He was pumped and ready to go again, though.  Of course, there are thousands who succeed, bring their family and even buy a home.  Those stories are enough to motivate the others who don't get any use out of it.  It's kind like slot machines for addicted gamblers.


The lure of the American Dream, or an prospect of making it "rich" is stronger than just about any obstacle or risk.  One writer stated that the only thing the construction of a 20-foot wall along the border would accomplish is an increase in production of 25-foot ladders in Mexico. (R. Longworth, Caught in the Middle.)  Politics aside, I believe this is an accurate reflection of the determination involved.


Worse Prospects Back Home.  If I remember correctly, I believe the new laws in Arizona were proposing 40 days in jail for people discovered in the U.S. without a valid visa (I'm not sure if I have the details right or what the final outcome was.)  While I agree that it's harsh, I don't think it compares to the possibilities of imprisonment in Mexico.  A friend of my wife was in jail, innocently, for almost 10 years; most significantly WITHOUT TRIAL.  We only recently discovered his release when he contacted her on facebook.  If I understand correctly, Mexico doesn't have the "innocent until proven guilty" legal concept, and, it seemed in his case that the opposite was assumed.  (I believe President Calderon has taken steps to change this, as well as implementing a public, witness-questioning type process for trials.  If so, I hope it makes a difference.) In Mexican jails you also have to pay for your food and tip guards.  Family members have to visit to leave money.  Many inmates, are for this reason, compelled to make handy-crafts to sell and pay for their keep; the guards sell the crafts outside and keep a share of the cash. (One of the most famous hammock producers on the Yucatan Peninsula is actually a prison; foreign tourists innocently seem to think it's a nice way to fill idle time; I know I did at the beginning.)  So, how does the prospect of 40 days in an American jail stack up to this?

On top of that, many of these people come from a life of utter poverty.  They don't see much to loose.  Back on the farm, they always had corn, beans, squash and meat, not to mention as much fruit as they could eat. But they didn't have Kentucky Fried Chicken, Blackberry cell phones or satellite T.V.  I guess even a modest income in the U.S can get them these luxuries of the rich.  For others, the prospect of one day being able to take the kids to Disney Land would give their family special status.  They once knew a rich family from he city that had gone ...

Bragging Rights. Now, I can't say for sure, but I don't think 40 days in an American jail would daunt most of the people who head across the border.  I actually suspect it might serve as another source of bragging rights; I can here it now: "The gringos caught me and gave a free bed and food for 40 days!"  I've heard this kind of bragging.  The guy who I mentioned above, who had been caught and sent back 3 times was telling his story (of course, no jail involved) to a group of men and boys, sitting around with beer.  As he spoke with the pride and authority of true drunk, a 14-year-old boy looked on in awe, with sparkle of hope in his eyes.  That was 4 years ago.  I'm sure that 14-year-old is in the U.S. by now.

Not all the braggers are drunks. I've met some very fine, upstanding, lower-middle class family men speaking with true pride of their cross border risks, all for the sake of their dear family (these are more the Disney Land types).

National Identity Confusion.  For some reason, Mexicans who successfully establish themselves in the U.S. (legally or illegally) often do not want to be considered Mexican, or even Mexican-American, or Mexican-background.  I remember on a trip to Detroit once, to the Mexican neighborhood, one hispanic American was offended when my dad mentioned the word Mexican (he was definitely Mexican, as opposed to Colombian, for example.)  I've heard of many similar cases.  These people teach their kids that they are American, not Mexican.

Here in Playa del Carmen I met a Mexican family whose daughters had been born in the U.S.

"Some day," explained one of the little girls, "I want to go back to my Homeland, and get to know my people." She hadn't been there since infancy.  She placed a special emphasis on "mi patria" referring the United States.  All of this was in Spanish, and she couldn't speak any English.  Also, everything about the family, from their clothes and way of addressing people, to gestures and expressions was purely Mexican (which, for me, is a good thing.)  But these girls had been taught to believe that they were not Mexican.

I would think that for Americans this desire to assimilate should be seen as a good thing.  But, again, I'm not American. Personally, I think it's ridiculous; if I could say I had Mexican heritage, I would do so with pride.  (I do show off my Mexican citizenship card to disbelieving Mexicans; but it's not quite the same is really being Mexican culturally.)  Once people are born and raised in the U.S., and that is really their culture, then of course it makes sense to identify themselves with that nationality.  But, ironically, some Mexican-background Americans I know who have fully assimilated American culture are among the few who look back with pride to their Hispanic roots. Others are scathingly aggressive to their former people.

Now that I'm pretty much done, I'll throw in my one-cent's worth.  (It's not even really worth two.)

In the case of American policy makers, on either side of the political spectrum, I feel like one of two things is true; either they've had no contact with these people, and they know virtually nothing about them, or, they know, but pretend that they don't because it's more important to please their respective voters base.  I suppose both are possible.  If they knew something about how these people thought, I would guess that they could come up with some sort of policy that would work at least little better.

My one-cent opinion: they should gather a few of the illegal immigrants, sit down with them with a few caguamas (pronounced "ca-WAma" - see the picture at the top) and really get to know them.  It might not solve the problem, but I'm sure it would take them farther than they are now.

The Morning Edition - Raising Kids

Here's something new I'm going to add; the "Morning Edition."  This will be just a brief overview/commentary on of my themes, and links to the posts I've already written.

Today will be the first theme I actually wrote about in my blog - my experience raising my son (now sons, plural) in Mexico.  So far, I've written about:

Raising Kids to be Bilingual (click on the title to read)
HA banana-shaped lunch container,  which I thought was useless, but some readers really disagreed.
My son learning to pedal a trike!
My son's opinion on the language our dog speaks - and our new baby
Mexican Birthday Parties and Introverts
Kids preferences on how many friends to have (a typical Mexican opinion vs. my own.)
Some of my son's little habits

Not all of them are directly related to living in Mexico as a Canadian, but a few of them comment on differences.  I still have a lot more to write both about my kids specifically, and about some ideas that seem pretty common in Mexico, but I don't think would occur to anyone in Canada or many other places.  Some of these will come soon.

I hope you enjoy reading a post that you haven't yet