In the previous post, I gave you a rundown on how corruption looks different to visitors and expats. One further complicating factor here is the drug business.
Most people think that drug money is the root of corruption: it certainly does buy lenient judges, accommodating border guards, and friendly politicians. But the real root of corruption is drug violence. Recall this famous opening scene from the Godfather?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XPTAjNVvrYg
This scene captures a piece of the implicit threat posed by organized crime, but Bonasera is the supplicant: he has come to the Godfather seeking “justice.” In real life, cartels come to everyday people with the implied threat of violence.
They’ll send the new police inductee a note with a bullet and a coin: “¿Plato o plomo?” (“silver or lead?”) meaning accept a bribe or be killed. They’ll see a woman who works cleaning homes and they’ll say to her “You have a fine teenage son. You wouldn’t want him mixed up with a gang, would you? You tell us which houses have safes, and we’ll make sure he never joins up.” Or they tell a gate guard, “Let us know which houses are unoccupied next weekend. You’ll be alone at the gate at night, so don’t make any trouble.” We all like to think we’d be brave when faced with such threats, but the truth is these threats are not idle: people who don’t cooperate just end up dead. And there will be no trial for the perpetrators.
The overwhelming majority of corruption goes on quietly, on side streets and in back rooms. Threat are made, deals cut, money exchanged. Corruption is a fungus which thrives on the dark, fetid side of life. Yet there are still rules. Retribution against women and children is to be avoided. Never rat out anyone to the authorities, or worse yet, the federales NOB. And don’t kill gringos, unless they are involved in the drug business.
Except, as you recall from Part One, now is the season of institutional flux.
On February 1st, a local 78 year-old Canadian expat was shot to death, execution style, while walking on a path to the dentist’s office in the middle of the day. The authorities have provided little detail of the investigation, but the deceased’s friends are steadfast in ruling out any involvement in drugs. Someone tried to carjack a Gringa from a busy street, midday. There were three shootings last week of Mexicans apparently associated with the drug business, resulting in three dead and six wounded.
The last time similar levels of violence happened here was 2012 (notice, six years ago) during a flare up between the Sinaloa cartel and Los Zetas (again, around the federal election that year). This time it appears to be rival factions of the Cártel de Jalisco Nueva Generación (CJNG). For the newbie expats who have come here since, the violence is something new and alarming. Mexicans and expats lakeside are quite right to speak out and demand better security, because a lack of response to such crime appears to condone it, and could lead to a changing set of norms about what is acceptable. Yet the crimes are not new: they are the inevitable result of long-standing corruption, which will on occasion erupt in very visible, very tragic violence.
So we should be active, vocal, and alert, but not fearful. The proper response to an inexplicable death is to mourn, for we are all lessened by it (cue John Donne):
This a super creepy but amazing video which animates an event that never happened: Orson Welles reading the text of John Donne’s famous poem.
Violent crime is always shocking. Sometimes it can be explained, sometimes it truly is random. It is understandable when several shocking crimes occur that people think there is a correlation, that something is different, something has changed. Think of all those days when no serious crime happens: do those days represent a correlation, too?
Where corruption thrives, there is always the possibility of violence, and it will break out in dramatic and unsettling ways. It’s not unusual or even a change. Every person must decide what level of violence they can tolerate. No one should be criticized for saying “¡bastante!” (“enough!”), but everyone should understand what is happening, and why, before acting.
Mexico remains a vacation location of choice for many people worldwide. Despite nearly non-stop negative publicity, more Americans and Canadians visit Mexico for vacation (and as expats) than any other country. Mexico is unique in being near the top of two different international indices: best place to visit/live, and worst degree of corruption. When you see the other nations on the corruption index, you notice right away they are places you might not even consider visiting: Pakistan, Iraq, Nigeria, and Myanmar for example.
You don’t have to take my word, or some organization’s statistics, to believe Mexico has a corruption problem. Mexican Presidente López Obrador has cited rooting out corruption as a top priority, and his recent effort to eliminate petroleum theft by closing gas pipelines–despite the ensuing gas shortages and a tragic explosion–demonstrates his seriousness.
All of which means Mexico is a place where a visitor is likely to see corruption. And what does that corruption look like? To the visitor, the quintessential picture of Mexican corruption is the overweight transito, or traffic cop, pulling you over for no reason and demanding some mordida (“bites” literally, but a bribe in español). For the most part, it appears harmless, and the way some visitors talk about it, it almost seems to be a required part of an adventurous trip to Mexico.
Expats, too, have their share of transito and mordida stories. One interesting difference is they usually begin with the expat admitting they were either driving without a seat belt, making an illegal left turn, or missing a license plate or emissions sticker (all civil violations in Mexico), thus giving the transito an excuse. The story ends the same way, however: a mordida request.
Yet if you live in Mexico long enough, you get to see what corruption really looks like. The true face of corruption is crime and violence. Here is how that works.
Corruption is… the result of a decadent political regime. We are absolutely convinced that this evil is the main cause of social and economic inequality, and also that corruption is to blame for the violence in our country.
Presidente Andrés Manuel López Obrador
In a society based on law and order, police impartially enforce laws, courts determine guilt and innocence, and the people trust these institutions to act justly. The classic depiction of Lady Justice is blindfolded, as she favors neither rich nor poor, but strictly decides on the merit of the case. In a corrupt society, all these relationships and rules are, well, corrupted. Something besides the truth and merits determines justice: it may be money, power, the whim of the strongman, or the party’s doctrine. Because merit and truth no longer matter, relationships with the new source of justice become all-important.
In Mexico, the federal and state governments all changed as a result of the election last year. The party controlling many legislatures and local governments also changed, and the new Presidente presides over a party he just created. Needless to say as a result, all the patronage relationships were re-arranged. Meanwhile, new municipal administrations came to power to find no money in the accounts (the last administration took it), equipment missing, ridiculous contracts already signed, and secret development agreements uncovered.
This changeover is especially evident every six years, when the federal government changes leadership, as Mexican Presidentes are limited to a single six-year term. During the extended government transition (the election was in July, the federal administration begins on December 1st) there is usually an increase in crime. Police don’t know who to arrest and who to protect, because who is in charge now won’t be in charge soon. Criminals are more active, especially as the holiday month of December begins and there are more people with more money out and about. And this election cycle, the various drug cartels are involved in a re-shuffling of the plazas, as the local drug franchises are known.
As you see, corruption manifests itself in the underpaid cop asking for graft roadside, but it also leads to ineffective or seemingly random law enforcement, a lack of necessary resources (no cars/no gas=no cops), or an opportunity for some quick gains via crime and violence. And we haven’t even gotten to the whole “drug money buys influence” side of the ledger.
In the second part of this post, I’ll take the topic of corruption down to a more personal level.
“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose” –French proverb (“The more things change, the more they stay the same”)
As I looked at the February calendar, I kept having that nagging feeling I forgot something. Birthday? No. Wedding anniversary? No. Valentine’s day? Covered. Then I realized we passed our second anniversary as expats on February 1st. Last year I did a fairly long post about the aspects of expat life in Mexico which might dissuade someone from trying it. This year I’ll look at things in general that might encourage you to try the expat life.
Tops on my list of reasons to be an expat: excitement. As an expat, you have no reason to be bored…ever. There is an entire new culture with which to become familiar, a new language to learn, new cuisines to eat, different lifestyles to consider, new friends to make, and exotic places to visit (as a local). Depending on where you choose to live, this excitement level can vary from mild (in a community with many expats and a familiar culture) to extreme (truly on your own in a place not known for accommodating foreigners).
Closely related is reason number two: freedom. Folks from NOB consider themselves quite free, thank you very much, but expat life moves one from being free to living free. As an expat, you literally choose outside the lines (we call them borders) and consciously decide to live…wherever. It’s not where you or your parents were born, or where your job is. As with all true freedom, great responsibility abides. Once you become an expat, you can hardly blame anyone else if your new home disappoints: either you weren’t prepared, or you chose poorly, or, well, it’s all on you.
Like great responsibility, “the Dude abides”
Reason number three is education. Everyone who travels internationally quickly learns at least something about different cultures, but expat life is an advanced degree in comparative cultures. I traveled all over the world for work, and I lived overseas (in Germany) for three years. Yet I never understood how overwhelming the consumer culture of the States was until I lived for (now) two years in a developing nation. Sure, I had heard about “keeping up with the Joneses”, but that was for superficial people. When you are bombarded with advertising, chided to work harder and longer to earn more for your comfort, your safety, your family’s well-being, you become inured to another point of view. Now when I visit the States, I marvel at how well consumerism has manipulated people to believe in it at all costs.
Speaking of costs, expat life might be a way to stretch your resources. If you check out YouTube, Instagram, Patreon, et cetera, you’ll see an a modern take on a old phenomenon: the young vagabond. Those of a certain age recall the “Europe on $5 a day” books which enticed young travelers to see the world on a shoestring budget. Nowadays, some young people cut all ties to a “normal life” and travel around just sharing their experiences, supported by those on social media who “click on” their sites. Likewise for expat retirees, there are places where most of the main costs of living (food, housing, transport) are much cheaper, and living well on something like a Social Security check is possible.
Finally, I would add that expat life is a challenge. We all need challenges: it’s why Edmund Hillary climbed Everest, why Willie Sutton robbed banks, why Tom Brady keeps playing football. Of course there are many ways to find a new challenge without leaving your home country, but living somewhere else presents a unique one.
Expat life is not for everyone, and not for all times. As I have noted before, it has its ups and downs. On balance, it’s an option more could consider, if they better understood all their options.
We had a busy week, preparing for the annual fundraiser lunch for the Villa Infantil, a local orphanage run by a small number of Mexican nuns. The fundraiser is a big event, held at a large evento, and easily accommodated over 400 paying guests this year.
The front third of the event hall (note the gilets jaunes at our table)
When the snow birds come back for the winter, the charity season starts in earnest. Hardly a week goes by without a dinner, auction, cook-off, musical performance, or sale of some sort to raise money for the plethora of local charities. Moreover, these events come heavily staffed by volunteers who give of their time, treasure, goods or services for the cause.
As last year, we specialized in what we do best: Judy was a concierge, and I was the parking czar. So she got to dress up and be (naturally) charming, while I got a safety vest, a cowboy hat, and a whistle! Woo-hoo! Oh, and I got to tell drivers in cars where to go, which (if you know me) was quite satisfying.
Every car in a space…
Every space used!
A special thanks goes out to John King and Tom Kessinger, who completed our “tres amigos de estacionar.” As one of the guests mentioned, we looked as ready to cause trouble as ‘gilets jaunes’ (the yellow vest protesters in France).
Six or so hours of standing in the hot sun (even with a good palm sombrero) took a lot out of me, but seeing everyone have a good time, and some of the children enjoying themselves singing and dancing, was a fine tonic.
Sister with some of the older children, belting out a tune.
As anyone who does so knows, it is truly a blessing to participate in such events. We really do receive so much more than we give.
As we used to say in the Army, “There I was, knee deep in a pile of … (whatever).” This past Friday I was in the middle of a vast pool of waste. How else does one spend time in retirement? Worse yet, I was there entirely of my own accord! (Brief diversion: this reminds me of the old English joke. Bloke #1: “Took me wife on a vacation to the Caribbean.” Bloke #2: “Jamaica?” Bloke #1: “No, she went of her own accord!”
Sound it out…it will all make sense!
Anyway, on Friday several of my fellow Rotarians, Judy and I went to visit the local sewage treatment plant in Chapala. As part of our ongoing efforts to work with the pueblo called Ojo de Agua (more on that here), we were invited by our engineer associates from Guadalajara. The pueblo has no sewage treatment, so we went to see what it involves, and specifically the possibility of installing a wetlands (humedales) to address their needs.
So there we were, surrounded by sewage in a variety of stages of treatment. While the treatment plant for Chapala, a city for 50,000, is a large network of tanks, pumps, and industrial devices, the concepts are fairly simple. The raw sewage must have any solid trash separated out. It must be treated with bacteria and air to consume and transform the biologic components. It must be filtered with sand and gravel to eliminate particulate matter. And if it is going to be consumed by humans, it must be chlorinated and and sterilized with ultraviolet light.
Be thankful there is no Smell-i-vision
Bubbling with aerobic activity
Equipment!
If you need to do all this on an industrial scale, you end up with a plant like the one in the pictures. We are considering how to use a simple wetlands, which uses a series of small, hidden tanks to accomplish some of the processing, and finishes by using the wastewater to irrigate a series of ponds/fields (aka wetlands) where non-edibles can be grown.
Almost done…
ready to grow orchids
The plant in Chapala has a demonstration wetlands available. What is most interesting is the wetlands require little equipment, power or maintenance. The one shown here has been unsupervised for nine years, and still water suitable for irrigation comes out of the spigots!
Does much of the same work, only without power and maintenance! There is something about a life preserver next to a cesspool that screams “don’t bother!”
We learned quite a lot about the process of waste treatment, and got a decent tan to boot! In case you’re wondering about the title, it’s a quote from the film Full Metal Jacket. The first half of that movie is an amazing re-creation of 1960’s Marine Corps boot camp, complete with real (former) Marine drill instructor R. Lee Ermey working without a script! While it is incredibly raw and vulgar (consistent with our topic today, no?), the first half merits watching. The second half is a dystopian fantasy set in Vietnam, just as vulgar but probably not worth your time.
The never-ending immigration debate continues to shed more heat than light. I see more vague, heartless, and ill-informed opinions on this topic than just about anything else. As a pro-immigration conservative, I often feel like my views aren’t reflected in all the noise. Here they are; I hope they are specific, compassionate, and informed.
America is just different. I am not implying necessarily better, but no sane person can deny the core attractiveness of the concept of America. We are a creedal nation: one defined not by blood or religion or geography, but by an individual’s commitment to espousing a common set of beliefs. If you wonder what they are, re-read the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. More people want to come to the United States and live there than anywhere else in the world, and the numbers are not even close. Some immigrants already espouse the American creed; others just want to get away from whatever ills plague them in their own country. All we ask of those who arrive in America is they (eventually) share our creed.
Alas, more people want to come and live in the United States than the United States can reasonable digest. It is not a matter of space or jobs: it is a matter of culture. Just as America changes everyone who comes to live in it, every immigrant (legal or not) changes America. The vast majority of immigrants make America better. A tiny minority make it worse, or even intend to do it harm. Regardless of good intent, cultural changes take time.
If you look throughout American history, the greatest anti-immigrant movements happen not during large swells in immigration, but just after, as the new immigrants settle down and spread throughout the country. Thus has it always been; thus it is today. Foreign-born residents made up 13.7% of the US population as of last year, the highest level since 1910 (14.7%). When the first foreign immigrant lands in your small town, he is a curiosity; when several hundred follow, you begin to wonder why you can’t find white bread at the corner “supermercado.”
Asking such a question is not inherently racist or anti-immigrant. Racism requires intent (I know some academics posit a whole different theory of implicit racism: I disagree, but let’s leave that for another post, another day). As an expat in Mexico, I often hear expats complaining that we as expats should not change the local culture. These same voices call people racists when Americans say immigrants should not change America’s culture. Consistency, anyone?
Since the wave of immigration has passed, a wall is not the solution, as I have previously noted. That said, a wall is neither moral or immoral, it is just an object of policy. A wall can trap innocent people in utter subjugation: see “Curtain, Iron.” A wall can keep sadistic murderers from harming innocents: see “Prison, SuperMax.” Some immigration proponents state that the existing US-Mexico border wall is immoral because it forces immigrants to the desert where they are more likely to perish. These same people claim the wall is ineffective. Logic, anyone?
America has less physical border control than almost anywhere. I say almost anywhere, because contrary to FaceBook memes, the tiny Vatican state has none. Due to the amiability of our neighbors (and despite our occasional extra-territorial forays), America has few walls or fences, and only recently (post 2001) became interested in tracking people coming and going. America didn’t even have immigration laws until the late 19th century; our view was “if you can get here, good on you!”
See that gaping opening around the colonnade? Come and go as you please!
Today, America’s immigration system is designed to be difficult to pass. There is simply too much demand, from too many places, and Americans see no reason to to make it easier. We have to screen against drug smugglers, foreign terrorists, child-traffickers, routine criminals, and folks who just want to come to America despite not qualifying. We have to screen people from everywhere, with every language, dialect, religion, race, and culture. We have to move hundreds of thousands of people and millions of dollars of products across our borders instantly everyday to fuel our trade-based economy. And we have to do all this while remembering–in our creedal nation–you can’t spot a “real American” by how they talk, dress, pray, or behave. Some humility for the challenge facing our immigration and customs officials, por favor?
Some people think immigrants (legal or not) get a free ride of generous benefits at the cost of American taxpayers. Most immigrants would admit their material life is better in America, at least eventually. But immigrants qualify for only the most basic public services, such as the right to children’s education, emergency medical care, some anti-poverty programs, and various legal protections. Mostly they work multiple (lousy) jobs, have taxes and Social Security taken from their pay (which if not legal immigrants, they will never be able to file for and recover), and send as much of their paycheck home as possible to support a family.
I hope I never hear the phrase “We are a nation of immigrants” again. It is true and utterly specious. The phrase is trotted out as some kind of justification, but for what? The Native American peoples came to the hemisphere from elsewhere, and they were not uniformly welcoming of the newly arrived European settlers. Subsequent groups of migrants arrived in accordance with the few laws and limits on immigration, but were more often threatened than welcomed. Hardly a history anyone should cite to support any position in the current debate.
Just a plaque, folks
Likewise, spare me your tired, huddled masses of Statue of Liberty quotes. The statue, a gift from France in 1886, is a monument to the American ideal of Liberty (remember, our creed?). It’s official title is “Liberty Enlightening the World” and its design is based on the Roman goddess Libertas, calling to mind the connection between the Roman and American Republics. By coincidence only, it sits on Liberty island, not far from Ellis island, where millions of immigrants later processed to enter the United States. What about the famous “give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free?” It is inscribed on a plaque at the base, in the museum. Emma Lazarus wrote the poem to promote the acceptance of refugees as part of a fundraiser to pay for the base of the monument. The Statue is about why people would want to come, not whether they should be allowed to.
If overall immigration is at modern lows, why are we having a debate? For one reason, the time to solve any political issue is when there is no crisis. You fireproof the building when you can, not once the fire rages. There is a surge in the number of families and children from Central America arriving at the US-Mexico border. Some suggest it is the fruit of America’s long involvement in Latin American affairs. If that were the case, we would expect to see the greatest number of immigrants from the countries where America was most recently involved. Most of the immigrants come from Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador. America supported several coups in Guatemala in the early 1980s. Yet America invaded Panama in 1989; where are those refugees? America supported a coup against Honduran President Zelaya when he suspended the constitution and tried to remain in office in 2009; so why did Honduran emigration increase ten years later?
The reality is all these countries are experiencing increasing violence and decreasing economic opportunity. The migrants who arrive at the American border frequently tell media sources they ‘just want a better future for their families’. Given the demand to immigrate to America, ‘wanting a better future’ is not going to get you into the country legally. Legal immigration is handled in the immigrant’s home country and strictly regulated by national quotas. These migrants are showing up at the border and claiming asylum as refugees from a “well-founded fear of persecution.” I’ll spare you the legal details surrounding this phrase and just note that high crime and no good jobs won’t qualify, meaning most of these asylum-seekers will be denied. But if that is so obvious, why did they risk so much? How do poor people from underdeveloped, violent nations suddenly decide to risk everything to walk with their children to the United States?
There are two groups responsible for spreading the word: human-traffickers and pro-immigration activists. Agustin Gomez, the Guatemalan father of the young boy who died in ICE custody after crossing the border, said, “We heard rumors that they could pass (into the United States).They said they could pass with the children”. The coyotes who organize and move people across the border are actively recruiting and offering discounts for migrants who bring their children with them. One coyote told the foreign press, “Everyone took advantage and sent them (the children) over. Some coyotes charge less because they know if you turn yourself into immigration, there is no problem. You will always go through.”
Meanwhile, groups like Pueblo Sin Fronteras (People Without Borders) have been visiting communities in Central America for fifteen years, helping organize groups to reach the United States in protest of American immigration laws. Desperate people are told they will be welcomed; they are used: by the coyotes for profit, by others as political tools. The numbers of such immigrants are not yet a crisis, but they are taxing America’s ability to detain, care for, and process them. They are increasing, and there is no logical reason for them to stop coming.
If you care, I have covered my views on immigration previously here. I would only add that the problem of families with children showing up to request asylum will only grow worse. It got bad once before under the Obama administration, and it was only brought under control by a combination of carrots (foreign aid, direct support to Mexico, catch-n-release) and sticks (family detention, some child separations, threats to without foreign aid). Sound familiar? That administration was (I believe) embarrassed by what they did, but they still did it; the current administration seems proud of it. In any event, some of those policies have been ruled unconstitutional, so there are fewer tools to address the situation.
The plight of these refugees is horrific. Imagine how bad things must be to decide to walk hundreds of miles with your children to an uncertain future. It is immoral to separate children from families just to deter immigration; it is just as immoral to encourage families to take their children on such a trek without any reasonable hope of success. Those who simply say “welcome them” must answer the questions: what solution do you propose? how many will qualify? why favor those that can walk to the border (Latin America) over those who can’t (Africa and Asia)? how will we pay for it? and, where will they go? There is nothing compassionate about the moral hazard of encouraging poor people to undertake great risk neither they, nor their chosen host nation is prepared for.
Part of the reason the immigration debate is so nasty, is it isn’t just about the immigrants, but about who we as Americans are. The nature of the American creed is up for debate: what are we asking the immigrants to profess to believe in? Compassion or the rule of law? The right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? Individual autonomy, diversity, and acceptance? Different views of who we are color how we approach the problem. Either way, the people who suffer most are those most vulnerable: the would-be immigrants themselves.
Change is haunting our little corner of paradise. As long as there have been gringos moving to lakeside to get away from it all, each new wave has had two things in common: first, the old-timers predict the end of all that is good and wholesome here, and second, the newbies want to shut the door behind them and let no one else in.
As The Eagles once sang, “you call some place Paradise, kiss it goodbye.”
When you have a great, inexpensive place to live, with a wonderful climate and friendly people, near a major metropolitan area and an international airport, people will find you (Cue Hans Gruber). With the improving economies NOB, all those baby-boomers (10,000 a day) looking to retire, and Guadalajara continuing to grow in all directions, another growth wave is washing over lakeside.
I don’t get overly excited about it. Yes, there is a shadowy group of international investors looking to build some high rises up against the mountains. And a major consortium of Mexican companies wants to build a US-style retirement community on the underdeveloped east side of Chapala. New properties are up for sale and in development all over the area, and even my own condominio has started clearing lots in the second, larger portion of our development.
Brush cleared, lot leveled….hmmmmmm
The infrastructure, especially the road network, is insufficient for even the existing population. And the local government–regardless of who is in charge–seems more interested in making some money from approving new development than in improving the infrastructure necessary to support it.
I still feel most of the opposition to development is a little reflexive. Most of these proposed projects don’t get built. Developers in Mexico have a tendency to promote first, in the hopes of generating enough interest to rezone/build/sell. So one often hears about a project, sees advertising and maybe even a ground-breaking, yet nothing comes of it.
This scar is going on five years old…two buildings completed
Cardiac care replacing car wash
On the flip side, we have two new hospitals and a cardiac clinic underway, which is a vest improvement on the simple clinic and Cruz Roja ambulance upon which we previously relied. I agree that no one wants to turn our sleepy little town into another Puerto Vallarta, yet that is unlikely. While our weather is near perfect, the lake does not provide the same tourist draw as the ocean. There is a sizable mountain between us and Guadalajara, so we won’t be overrun by commuters until (1) the main road is greatly improved and (2) there is nowhere else closer to the city to develop. That gives us about 20 years of peace on that front.
Where did THAT come from?
Which is not to say there is no threat from development. We have a high-rise sneaking up on the lake shore in an otherwise quiet residential neighborhood, despite the zoning laws and the opposition of the residents. Scars appear on the mountainside from time-to-time. but the good comes with the bad.
New continuing care community…
think they’re marketing to gringos?
As more people arrive, especially more Mexicans and even more specifically Tapatios from Guadalajara, demand for infrastructure will grow, too. Its one thing to ignore a pueblo of 10,000 locals, or even a few thousand gringo retirees and snowbirds. But when folks with political connections start to retire to lakeside, things will change. As they always do.
Change is the only constant, as they say. Fifty years ago, Ajijic was a little Mexican pueblo connected by a dirt road to the wider world. Thirty years ago, expats lined up at the only phone in the public square to make long-distance calls home. Today, it’s still a quaint village, albeit with a WalMart and more traffic and good restaurants than it would have otherwise. It probably won’t be that forever, but nowhere is.
Go to a restaurant in Mexico and ask for a glass of water (agua) and you’ll be asked “sin gas?” or “without bubbles?” as in natural or carbonated water. The phrase sin gas also describes what happens when your local gasolinera has no gasolina.
We’re experiencing a blast from the past, a real live gas shortage here in Mexico. Wait a minute, you think, isn’t Mexico an oil exporter? Yes, and therein lies a long and torturous tale of incompetence, politics, corruption, markets, corruption, and more incompetence and corruption…but mostly the latter two.
¡Hoy no hay gas!
While Mexico controls several oil-rich areas, they were mostly offshore. Oil production was a small enterprise generally engaged in by large foreign companies on an exploratory basis through the early twentieth century. After the Mexican revolution, the socialist government seized on a dispute between workers and foreign oil companies to expropriate the oil industry, lock, stock, and barrel (pun intended). The government set up a giant oil monopoly (easily the largest employer in Mexico for over a hundred years, and perennially one of the largest private companies in the world) called Pemex, for Petroléos Mexicanos. If you drilled for oil, sold gas, or bought either, you did it through Pemex.
Like all monopolies, but especially government ones (and most egregiously socialist government ones), Pemex became wealthy, fat, and lazy. It didn’t maintain equipment, it didn’t invest in new technology, it didn’t develop new fields. It did create a vast and unresponsive bureaucracy, it did create jobs-for-life-and-beyond, it did control the flow of fuel and use it for political purposes. But the very fact of Pemex, the fact oil and gas belonged to the Mexican people and not some foreign enterprise, was of considerable pride to Mexico. Much like conservative Americans consider the right to bear arms as intrinsic to the country (whether they plan an insurrection or not), the average Mexican put up with Pemex inefficiency because of what it stood for: national sovereignty.
During the last Presidential administration, the Pemex situation got so dire that President Peña Nieto forced through Congress a law gradually eliminating Pemex’s monopoly. New exploratory tracts were auctioned off (slowly) to foreign oil companies. New gas stations opened (slowly), and while they were forced to buy gas from Pemex initially, they will eventually use their own gas. Pemex signed joint development agreements to improve their refining and production technology. Many Mexicans opposed these moves, but were willing to try them to see if they worked.
Mexico’s new President, Andrés Manuel López Obrador (or AMLO) was one of those who opposed the new policies. He campaigned to repeal them, but after being elected and seeing his statements roiling the markets, he relented and simply suspended further progress as he re-evaluates them.
((Pat, are you ever going to explain why you have no gas?)) I told you it was long and torturous!
One other thing AMLO campaigned on was fighting corruption, and this was such a selling point it was the main reason he and his newly-created MORENA party had an overwhelming election victory. One of the biggest forms of corruption at Pemex was the theft of gas from the many pipelines which were (key verb tense, there) the main distribution system in Mexico. I’m not talking about pumping a little extra gas into a plastic jug and making a run for it from the pump. I’m talking pulling big-rig tankers up to pipeline junctions and stealing thousands of gallons. Estimates were that almost 20% of the gas distributed across the country was stolen. It was so lucrative everybody got involved: small-scale family businesses, government employees, and eventually the cartels, who are always on the lookout for new and illegal sources of income.
Candidate AMLO made bold promises of stopping corruption without explaining exactly how he was going to accomplish them. When confronted with the gas thefts, he came up with an innovative approach: he shut off the gas pipelines. No gas, no theft. And he decided to distribute gas using tanker trucks, as is done in those areas of Mexico that aren’t supplied via pipeline.
But deciding to do something like switching from one long-established distribution system to another is easier said-than-done. Whose trucks? What schedule? Where to go first? Who will provide security on the road? Perhaps all of these points were discussed, and maybe they were worked through. No one really knows, because the government didn’t announce the changes; suddenly, gas stations started closing, and then the government went public. In those rural regions where tanker trucks were the norm, gas is still flowing. But those areas are also less developed and have less demand; whether this new approach can ever work remains in question.
Some see politics at play, and suggest that areas that didn’t support the President have seen more severe shortages. As Hanlon’s razor holds, never ascribe to malice what can reasonably be explained by stupidity. The government insists there is no shortage, just some distribution difficulties, and they will be alleviated soon (read with authoritative government spokesman voice).
We’re entering the second week of our gas shutdown. Traffic is noticeably down here at lakeside, even though the high season of snowbird visitors is peaking. FaceBook is full of videos from Guadalajara with long lines outside gasolineras. It is something of a 70’s flashback for me. So you know whats coming…the greatest ht from the last (1979) gas crisis, a favorite of George W. Bush and yours truly:
Few things are as satisfying as a roaring fire on a cold night, perhaps with a fine snifter of brandy and some great company, to boot. Why is that?
Check out the sweet fire grate!
After all, fire is pretty elementary and ordinary. Man’s conquest of fire is so ancient that we have no idea how or when it happened, although every society has a fire-mastery myth. And all fire does is provide light (not really that much) and heat (not very efficiently).
When we lived in northern climes, we had a wooded lot, full of pine, oak, and beech. Courtesy of Hurricane Isabel in 2003, we had a huge wall of logs which lapped the perimeter of our lot, and probably is still not entirely dissipated. The trees provided plenty of kindling, and we had a real, old-fashioned fireplace in the family room. Starting early in the fall, I would begin to gather and stack the wood closer to the house, and identify a great pile of kindling. Given the nearly unending supply of firewood, we had a fire most evenings. Later on, we had gas fireplaces, which look just fine and produce some heat, but just missed that “something.”
Fast forward to our life on Mexico, and I figured our nights of roaring fires were all behind us. We have a real fireplace (chimney but no flue), but it is gas-fed. Certainly it never gets cold enough to justify a fire. The last few weeks we have had overnight temperatures in the 40’s, but seriously, folks, that’s not fireplace weather.
Our fireplace looked odd with just a gas pipe sticking out. We looked at gas fireplace logs, but they were ugly, and crazy expensive (perhaps an import thing?) So after almost two years of staring at it, we finally decided to get a real firewood grate. We had a local ferretero (iron smith) come by and take down the measurements and design, and he delivered a custom one.
Since Mexicans like a good holiday fire as much as anyone–and they consider 50 degrees to be essentially freezing–this is the season for road-side stands selling all kinds of firewood. Now we are back in the business of roaring fires, if only for a few weeks.
Despite the past experience, I have no special skill when it comes to starting a fire. And I’m not opposed to twisting the gas handle if the fire is slow to take. After all, I’m not in fear of freezing to death, like the protagonist of Jack London’s great short story (go ahead, go read it now), from whom I borrowed the title of this post. I just know what I like: the crackle and the hiss, the warm glow, the wisp of aromatic wood.
Obviously, we enjoyed our week-long visit to Mexico City. There is so much to do there, we look forward to heading back for at least another week. Here are some summary impressions:
Symbol of Mexico, city, state, and nation
Christmas is a great time to visit, as the exodus of Chilangos to visit family elsewhere combined with the extended holiday to reduce traffic and crowds. We noticed regular people were uniformly friendly; more experienced visitors tell us that varies with the time of year and the size of the crowds. On the downside, smog is more likely in the winter, and no doubt you noticed the haze in any of my panoramic pictures!
“Purple haze, all in my brain”
Need more left turn lanes?
The most glaring fact about Mexico City is its sheer size. You drive from the city center for a half hour in any direction and you pass one cluster of skyscrapers after another; you change direction and it’s more of the same. The only thing masking its size is the number of hills, but as you pass them, you notice how urban sprawl is gradually colonizing even the steepest slopes. Traffic can still confound. Despite the sprawl, there are good bus and subway systems, Uber is incredibly cheap, and even the taxis are reasonable. I finally broke the code on the taxi service: private taxis are unmarked cars which may be cheaper, but could be perilous. The city taxis, labelled with “CDMX taxi” are very solid and economical.
Plenty of space
Guess the cliffs were too steep
Architecture is all over the map. The occasional original Meso-american site, Spanish colonial, French (from Maximillian I’s brief reign), post-modern, you name it. The main Cathedral took 300 years to complete, so its a mixture of neo-Gothic, Romanesque and Baroque, for example. And oftentimes things sit at weird angles, due to a combination of lake-bed footings and earthquakes.
So much history and public art that it takes a longer, more leisurely visit to digest. Likewise for museums and galleries. There are statues and monuments and plaques everywhere, and whenever they dig, they uncover more.
UNAM library: no Touchdown Jesus, but still
Site of ballet folklorico
Olympic stadium
Monument to the revolution, in reflection
Mexico City has become a culinary destination with several of the world’s top restaurants. Our schedule (and the need for reservations far in advance) didn’t allow us to visit them, but there are thousands of good restaurants. I would suggest that any visit include a stop at two (gasp!) local chains: La Casa de Toño and El Moro Churrería. The first is a Chilango tradition, and when we went the lines of locals were long, but seating was fast. It serves Mexican comfort food, cheap and very quick. The second serves churros, fried dough in a long strand, much like a doughnut shaped as a stick. With dipping sauces. And ice cream and hot chocolate and milk shakes. Again, long lines, quick service, incredibly delicious.
Ground beef as the plate
(L-R) flautas, pozole, quesadilla
Pozole & Sopa Azteca
Tacos & flautas
You know what I mean!
Which brings me to the subject of quesadillas, and superiority. Now even if you know only a little Spanish, you know a quesadilla is a grilled, cheese-filled bite of tortilla heaven. Everywhere, except Mexico City. There, they ask whether you want queso (cheese) in your quesadilla. They explain there are many things you could put in a quesadilla, so they don’t assume you want queso. Except this is true everywhere else, but when you order a quesadilla anywhere else, they know you want queso! When we pointed this little discrepancy out to our chilanga guide, she brushed it off as a provincial lack of understanding of the city’s cosmopolitan style. Every once in a while, she would provide an off-hand comment about how Guadalajara (or wherever) didn’t really understand the politics, or the cuisine, or the art of México (the city). It was good-natured, but very reminiscent of the way New Yorkers think and talk.
Street vendors left their goods out overnight
We never felt unsafe or at any risk. Our hotel was adjacent to the US embassy, so there was a constant security presence in the neighborhood. Yet we were also across the street from the Zone Rosa, or pink zone, an area full of free-wheeling bars, clubs, and night life with an anything goes attitude. As gray-haired gringos, we wandered through it to go to a restaurant and didn’t garner any attention.
While mom was marketing stuff, these little guys were alongside a busy, fast-moving highway
Probably the biggest negative aspect of our visit was the poverty. Nearly every block has a beggar or two, but they are in no way aggressive, just persistent. We oftentimes saw whole families on the street, selling trinkets or candy, and they were in the same place all day (and probably all night). It is a sad fact of life here, and many folks carry some small change and drop a coin here and there. We had one episode at El Moro, when the family sitting next to us (obviously not dressed as living on the street), eating churros as we were, then sent their small child around with a cup looking for change! She moved away from most of the others quickly enough, but stayed at our end of the table, saying please and holding out a cup with one hand as she ate a churro with the other. Even after we said “lo siento” (sorry), she continued. One tip: after the third “lo siento” I wagged my finger back and forth, which is a strong signal in Mexico for “enough”, and she moved on.
Costs for Mexico City were on a par with Guadalajara and well above our small town, but most everything was still a bargain compared to US rates, especially big-city US rates. While English is not ubiquitous, many people have at least a few words, and are willing to help you even if they don’t. Probably my strongest impression was one of a friendly city with much to offer, and not much in the way of drawbacks. Highly recommend it even for a short visit!
