The Neighborhood I Call Home

Our Newest Park

I live in a new suburban subdivision in Playa del Carmen, which is currently one of Latin America's fastest growing communities. Before I owned this house, I had never lived in this kind of neighbourhood before; I had lived in small towns and villages, old residential neighborhoods in big and medium sized cities, and even a student residential village, but never an new suburban-style development.

Playa del Carmen isn't big enough to really have suburbs, but currently it has a growing number of new, lower-middle class developments in the outlying areas of the city.  I suppose most of them are like mine. This one was still under construction when I moved in, and is now nearing completion.  It has some things I love, and things I hate.  Here they are, randomly switching between "love" and "hate."

I love: the good neighbors I've got to know here.  We've had surprisingly good luck with almost everyone who lives near to us, and some of our closest friends live a couple of blocks a way.

I love: the gossip ring.  While sometimes "gossip" and "nosy" (which are the same word in Spanish) is a bad term or criticism, in my case it's by far the best way to know what's going on, and to get information like where visitors can park their car without bothering anyone, who's sick, who's having a baby, who's going on vacation, etc.  Some of my friends who live a few blocks away have an old lady as a neighbor who can provide any of this information and much more about any given person on the street, and my wife is an admitted addict. No harm has come of it yet, and it allows people to show support when needed.

I hate: very, very, very loud music.  This is a Mexican thing, and not something I'll ever be able to change in any way.  But I really felt that Guns 'n' Roses at 4 am Sunday morning was a little over the top. My neighbor (a teenaged girl who was getting up to do the laundry), was very understanding when I knocked on their door, and kindly turned it low enough so at least the bed stopped vibrating.  I guess it could have been worse ...

I love: our many parks.  Everyone who lives here has 4 small parks within a 5 minute walk.  My son has already distributed these parks to family and friends.  The newest and nicest is his, and the first one, which has been heavily vandalized, is mine.  I guess he figures I can deal with it.

The street I live on

I hate: the vandalism which destroyed  the playground in our first park, which is a 2 minute walk away.  They not only spray-painted, but they removed and broke the stairs, the slide and the swings. There are no gangs or anything around. These are just bored teens. I admit, this neighbourhood would be boring for teens, but really, it would cost 50 cents to go downtown, at lot less than their can of spray paint.  Besides that, I wonder what on earth the parents are doing.  Everyone on that street (which is not mine) seems to know who did it, so the parents must know as well.  I guess they just don't care.


I love:  the fact that no other park in the community has been vandalized.  I think there are 10 in total.  All the others have been left in tact, thank goodness!

I love: the jungle surrounding the community.

I hate: the fact that in a year or two, all that jungle will be gone.  This one's my fault as much as anyone's; I bought a new house that was built in clear-cut virgin jungle (to be fair, though there is no other choice around Playa del Carmen.)  In the capitalist world, the successful sales means that other companies now have stronger motivation to follow suit in the same construction style.

My son at our first park, partially-repaired

I love: the fact that many lower-middle income Mexicans (i.e. earning $10,000 or less) can afford to buy and own their own home, built decently, in a nice community.  These factors were our motivation to buy here.  It's a paradox I can't really work out.  I believe in decent housing for the masses, but I don't believe in destruction of nature.  I haven't seen a reasonable way to balance two, though.  But if they didn't do this, then the people here would just come and cut down the jungle on their own, and live in huts made of thin tree trunks and corrugated fiberglass panels.  So, I guess this is somewhat better.  I hope they can come up with better solutions soon.

I hate: the fact that there is no recycling service.  This is also a rarity in Mexico.  At least near downtown there is a park with a recycling drop-off area.

I love: that there is very little garbage in the streets.  Lower-income Mexican communities, even though almost picturesque in other ways sometimes, are horrendous for lots of litter and even whole bags of garbage strewn all over the place.  So far, people have kept this neighborhood nice and clean.

The jungle across the street - now the "new park" - see picture at the top

I hate: having to take transportation everywhere.  There are 24 hour convenience stores within walking distance, but that's it.  A lot of people have taco shops run out of their living room, so at least there's tasty food available.  Bikes and motorcycles come by selling bread and tamales as well. The next community back (the only one going farther back into the jungle) has a drug store, a butcher and a food store that sells only dry and canned items (for very good prices, mind you.)  There are also a few video stores.  So we aren't entirely lost, but for any major stores, or specific items you may need, there's no choice. Since it's a worker's suburban neighbourhood, there's no need for more, unfortunately.  Everyone drives out in the morning, and picks up what they need on the way home in the afternoon.

I love riding my bike.  The streets are very calm here, and it's relatively safe.  My wife prohibited me from owning a bike in Mexico City.   In Playa del Carmen, I can ride my bike to any part of the city within 30 minutes (I've had practice, though.)  The hot summer days aren't particularly good for this, though.

Well, I could go on for a while. But overall I'm very happy with my neighborhood. #1 for me is the people I know here.  The problems - well no place is perfect.

My New Year's Resolution

For the past few years I've made the same resolution every year, and I've kept it 100% (or completely failed it, depending on how you look at it.)

The resolution is "This year, I will not make any New Year's resolution."

It's easy enough to keep, unlike those ones about loosing weight or learning a new language, where you do it for the first week of January, while the emotion of a new resolution still keeps you motivated, and then dies suddenly and completely.

Why don't I make any New Year's resolution?  Well, as everyone knows, no one really keeps them anyway.  So what's the point of making such a big commitment that in reality you're not going to carry out?

Besides that, 2010 was an amazing year for me, and I'm sure 2011 will be a continuation of many of the great things which happened last year. I got a job which is ideal for my family life.  My second son was born.  Exactly 16 years after deciding to adhere to my religion in a conscientious choice, I've finally started getting a glimpse of what it really means.  I have a wonderful marriage, and a very supportive and lovely wife (this didn't start in 2010, but it kept going well in 2010,) and I bought a house.  I'm sure there are a few important things I'm missing, but these are some of the most outstanding good things that happened for me.  Of course, as you will know, I'm enjoying life in Mexico.

If I am granted the fortune, these will continue into next year; why make a resolution for some big change in my life when so many beautiful things are happening?  These are far more important than any resolution I choose could be.

While resolving not to make a resolution was at first just a kind of joke for me to tell people, this year I'm really resolved that resolutions are pointless; and this year, the great things happening for me give my resolve some reason.

So, Happy New Years!  Have a wonderful 2011!  (And if you made a resolution, I hope you achieve it and, more importantly, that it does all the good for you that you imagined.)

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.)