Life in Mexico

The Internet Nerve Center

I wish I'd done this twenty years ago. I arrived in Mexico on September 9th, 1996 and I haven't been homesick since. I miss my sisters and brother, and I miss skiing but I sure don't miss the weather or the work. Living in Mexico isn't for everyone. You have to adapt to the Mexican way of doing things because it certainly won't adapt to you. Don't expect things to make sense unless you can find the Mexican perspective.

Here are two text book examples: butting in line at the bank and honking your horn in traffic. At first blush you might think these examples are unrelated, however, both stem from a lack of a personal relationship between the offender and the offended. Mexican society is, relative to the US and Canada, aware of social class. The distinctions are dissolving slowly but subtle signs are found in almost every social interaction, especially between strangers.

In the bank, I might step in front of you, not out of rudeness but because you are not paying attention and I don't know you, so, I don't have to acknowledge your existence. Once I've stolen your place in line, you rarely take exception because you do not know me!

This happens to me frequently. I'm at the super, in the bank or some government office, glancing at some pretty señorita and next thing I know I've lost my place in line. To play on the theory I usually try to get to know the offender. I comment on the weather, ask the time or, once, I just stepped on a foot then apologized profusely. Almost invariably the small talk continues until we reach the front of the line and they insist I go before them! The one exception was a young indigenous girl who pretended not to understand a word I said. Then again, maybe she wasn't pretending.

The second example proceeds apace. I don't know you so I have the right to drive as though you aren't there. I can pull into traffic without looking, change lanes without signaling or even block traffic while I talk to a fellow on the sidewalk. This is where the horn comes in to play as a tool of social discourse.

I see you about to pull into traffic just in front of me, I toot my horn, you glance over, we make eye contact and NOW you have to acknowledge my existence!

I use this theory everyday while zipping around on my scooter; beeping the horn, making eye contact, waving, smiling, nodding my head. It's worked so far, no accidents yet.

So next time someone butts in line ahead of you, step on their foot and ask them what time it is. You never know, you might make a new friend.

Doug Hurd, Cuernavaca, August 2001

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