Culture – Page 19 – Pat the Expat

The border gate swings both ways

I saw an article in the WaPo (“The little-noticed surge across the U.S.-Mexico border: It’s Americans heading south“) last weekend which provided some detail on the growing trend of Americans moving to Mexico.

Of course, the WaPo writer couldn’t help put a political comment in the article, quoting the mayor (that would be Presidente) of San Miguel de Allende saying, “Despite the fact that Donald Trump insults my country every day, here we receive the entire international community, beginning with Americans, with open arms and hearts.” Looks like no topic can be discussed without covering the Trump angle. And just as inevitably, the comments section (I know, I know, NEVER read the comments section!) was full of MAGA fanatics with useful comments like “if Mexico is so great, why are 100 million Mexicans trying to come here?” Sigh.

The bulk of the article had useful data on the trend. It seems to be driven by three sources. First, there are those 10,000 baby boomers retiring every day, and they have to go somewhere, and they don’t have much in retirement savings, and Mexico is cheap. Next are the numerous (600,000+) children of Mexican immigrants who were born in the States and have dual citizenship; some are returning to Mexico. Last, there are younger people who have internet-enabled work, and they (sometimes with family in tow) can live anywhere, and they choose Mexico.

How many total, and of each group? Nobody knows. Mexico has only a rudimentary capability to track arrivals and departures. Like the US, they do a good job at airports, not so much anywhere else. Mexico is implementing a more thorough system which would also work at the land/sea borders, but perhaps mañana. Mexico estimates 800,00; the US embassy in Mexico City says 1.5 million. The embassy estimate is probably based on STEP enrollments (NOTE: if you are an American expat living in Mexico, go online at the link and enroll in STEP; it helps the State Department keep track of you in case of emergency/natural disaster), so even that figure is probably an undercount.

Where are they? They are all over, but the largest concentrations are in Puerto Vallarta (35,000) Lake Chapala (20,000) and San Miguel (10,000). These totals are primarily the retirees and young internet workers; the dual national are spread all over, often based on from where in Mexico their families originally came. PV is a beach city of almost 400,000, and San Miguel has 100,000, so the expat totals there are noticeable but not dramatic. The 20,000 expats around Lake Chapala, a number which swells due to snowbirds, represent almost a third of the Mexican population in the municipality.

The WaPo article focuses on San Miguel de Allende, which has been the “hot” expat destination recently. The article does a good–if brief–job of describing expat activities and challenges. It also points out that the Mexican federal government is starting to take note of the advantages, and implications, of the growing American presence south of the border.

Despite all the negative press and unfortunate political commentary in Washington, Mexico remains both the top tourist destination for Americans (almost 37 million in 2018, and increasing) and the top expat destination. Just think what the numbers would be if the American media didn’t give non-stop coverage to violence and corruption!

Vampiritos!

Little vampires, but not to worry, they are the delicious kind, one might even say…succulent. Sorry, couldn’t resist.

We ended our series of local day trips by driving home along Lake Chapala’s south shore, through the village of San Luis Soyatlán. It is a tiny strip along the main highway with a few parallel streets both lakeside and mountainside, not unlike Ajijic. However, it is a pueblo real, not a mestizo gringo comunidad like Ajijic. In my experience, San Luis Soyatlán is mostly known for being a place with a carretera that is barely two cars wide, so when trucks navigate it, or when anybody stops to shop on the main street, a “one-way-at-a-time” backup ensues.

But why would anybody stop on the narrow main street, knowing what happens? And what are they stopping for, anyway? Well we found out.

Vampiritos. Little vampires, as it were. It seems San Luis Soyatlán is the birthplace of a refreshing Mexican cocktail that is now famous across the country: the Vampirito. The Vampirito begins with sangrita (itself a mix of OJ, tomato juice, chile, salt, and lime) poured on ice. Then they add a custom mix of grapefruit soda (called Squirt), more fresh-squeezed OJ, and of course, your personal selection of tequila. The result is a fruity, slightly sweet, slightly salty, carbonated drink with a little zing (remember the chile?) and a little (or a lot of) kick. The special signature of this drink is that it is often served in a large plastic bag with a straw, because regular customers complained that plastic cups spilled in their cars when driving over Mexico’s many topes!

So you see people walking around with gold-fish bags filled with blood red fluid and a straw, happily sipping away; no one would ever think of driving while drinking one, apparently.

You can get an 80 or 100 peso bag…more if you choose a better tequila.

Since it was 12:01, we caused the required traffic back up and pulled over on the wrong side of the street in front of one of the many stands which sell Vampiritos in San Luis Soyatlán.

Judy caused the line to back up because this was our first vampirito…
But she returned with two-fisted success!

Judy opted for cups, because the bags seemed too precarious while driving (for her, not me…no vampirito until I got home). The drinks are as advertised: refreshing and delicious, but dangerous, as there is no tequila taste despite watching the shots poured into the drink. One of the more enjoyable aspects of being an expat is trying flavor combinations that would have made me retch back home, only to learn those people aren’t crazy, this really does taste good!

San Joselito

José Sánchez del Río was a young boy growing up in the small town of Sahuayo, Michoacán, during the early 20th century. This made him an unremarkable character, but for the Cristero rebellion which broke out in 1926, and that’s where his story gets interesting.

The rebellion known in Mexico as La Christiada began when Presidente Plutarco Elías Calles sought to enforce the strong anti-religious (and specifically in 20th century Mexico, anti-Catholic Church) provisions of the 1917 constitution. The Church had been a vocal opponent of the revolution, and the victorious socialist government wrote provisions into that constitution basically separating Church and State. In 1926 however, Presidente Calles took this a step further, instituting fines for wearing a Roman collar in public, sentencing priests who criticized the government to prison for five years, seizing all Church property, closing all religious institutions, and dramatically limiting the number of priests allowed in the country in an attempt to eliminate the Church as a competing power center.

Religiously conservative states like Jalisco and Michoacán went into open revolt against the government, and a guerrilla war went on for three years. Total battle deaths topped 100,000 during the war, a proportional rate about half that of the US civil war. As is often the case in insurgencies both sides engaged in atrocities, and one of the victims was young Josélito.

He repeatedly sought to join his older brothers in the Cristero cause, but he was refused due to only being twelve years old. Eventually he was permitted to join as a flag bearer, then eventually a fighter. During a losing battle near his hometown of Sahuayo, he gave his horse to General Guizar Morfin, who escaped the battlefield while Josélito fought on and was captured.

Side chapel shrine in the Church where he was baptized and held prisoner

Josélito was held in his own village Church, which the government had turned into its military headquarters/prison. For two weeks, he was beaten, forced to watch an execution, and encouraged to renounce his faith. When this failed, his captors tortured him with a machete, then skinned the soles of his feet and forced him to walk to his own execution site, all the while encouraging his apostasy. Next to a shallow grave, he was repeatedly stabbed as he shouted “¡Viva Cristo Rey!” until he was shot in the head.

The way from the Church to where he was executed is memorialized with small silver footprints

The Cristero rebellion ended after a settlement negotiated under the auspices of the US Ambassador to Mexico, Dwight Whitney. Presidente Calles’ stringent laws remained on the books, but were largely unenforced. The Catholic Church and the Mexican federal government came to a modus vivendi which went through periods of resistance and repression that lasted all the way to 1992. In 2016, Pope Francis canonized Josélito.

The memorial where he was exeucted. The plaque has the words he told his mother why he wanted to join the Christeros: “Never before now has it been so easy to win Heaven for yourself!”

Since we were on the south side of the lake near the Jalisco-Michoacán border, it was a short drive to Sahuayo, where we were blest to see San Josélito’s Church/prison, and the site of his execution.

Speaking in Tongue

After two years of Spanish classes (average size: four students and one teacher), two times a week, two hours per class, we seem to have reached a point of intelligibility. That is, after two years of college-level credit, we are able to understand and be understood (mas o menos) when conversing with locals en español. Which is something, and proves very useful around these parts. We now feel comfortable veering off the well-beaten expat path and travelling a little around Mexico, even to those places where a gringo is an unusual thing. More importantly, we can engage in the small conversations which grease the skids of day-to-day life.

Which is not to say we don’t have those momentary freezes when, for example, our gate guard suddenly asks “¿saben la contraseña por la puerta?” which sounds like “¿sabenlacontraseñaporlapuerta?” But we pause, and digest, and then the light goes on, and we respond “¡Si, por supuesto!” Nothing like being fluent, and I would be exaggerating to call us truly conversant, but we are making discernible progress.

Idiomatic expressions just have to be memorized, as is the case with any language. In English we “take a turn,” in Spanish they “give a turn.” In Spanish it “makes hot” and in English it “is hot.” Pronunciation is easier in Spanish, as all the letters have one-and-only-one sound and there are only a few consonants with exceptions. Spanish is very verb-based: verbs in their various tenses and conjugations tell you almost everything you need to know in the sentence. In English we would say “Give it to her.” It is a simple, complete thought, with an implied subject, action verb, and predicate (direct and indirect object…don’t worry, I won’t ask you to diagram the sentence!). While a bit vague, in context it makes complete sense. In Spanish, it would just be “Dáselo.” The form of verb “Dar” tells you it is an imperative command in the present tense, and the “to whom” (se or her) and “what” (lo or it) are just suffixes to the verb. Simple, right?

It gets complicated in the past tense. In English, we mostly use the simple past: I walked. Yes, we could use the more esoteric tenses such as “I was walking…” or “I had walked…” or even “I have been walking…” but really, how often do we use them? In Spanish they have two distinct tenses for the simple past: pasado/preterito and imperfecto. Each has its own rules for use, and different conjugations. The former is for actions already completed (among other causes), while the latter is for actions in process (again, among other things!). So in English I could say “When I walked there, I always walked slowly.” Both are simple past tenses in English and use “walked.” But en espanol, it would be “Cuando caminé allí, siempre caminaba lento. The first use of the verb “to walk” (caminar) is an action from the past already completed, so it is conjugated as preterito. The same verb is used again as a habitual action (the clue is siempre, or always) so it is conjugated as imperfecto. Got it? Yeah, me neither.

Native Spanish-speakers move flawlessly between the two tenses. If you were telling a story about things you did and how you felt at the time, the former would be preterito and latter imperfecto. It is as natural to them as the difference between right/write/rite is to an English-speaker. Depending on the context, you just know which one is…right.

One of the nice things about butchering Spanish among the Mexican people is they seem genuinely pleased you’re trying (apologies to my French friends, but this does not apply en francais!). If you use preterito when you should use imperfecto (or vice versa), they may correct you, but they will understand and nod and keep the conversation going…oftentimes with them speaking flawless English and you hacking away at español!

Climate changes

Take it easy, there, this is NOT a political post. I do smile every time I hear the phrase “climate change.” It’s such a self-evident truism: climate is a dynamic process, so it always is changing. Yet climate change as a slogan is so much better than global warming, which captured very little of what environmentalists were worried about. Anyway…

We are in the final month or so of our annual climate change. The dry season, which began around October, should end by June. The coming of the rains is attested to by the sounds of the rain-birds, which we hear clearly now throughout the day. The rain-birds are actually annual cicadas, and the buzz the males emit sounds distinctly like static on an analogue AM radio (only those of a certain age will even understand this reference). It is loudest in the early morning and early evening, or maybe that is just when other noises are absent so I notice it. Local legend is that the sound of the rain-birds indicates the rain will come in six weeks. We’ll see…probably about as accurate as forecasting winter on a rodent’s shadow.

We live in a high desert plateau, so one should not be surprised to find it dry. But because water is plentiful from the lake, we have abundant flora befitting our latitude (Hawaii) , if not our altitude (Denver). During the dry season, the mountains (which are of course not irrigated) turn brown.

It is hard to describe just how dry it gets here during the seven or eight months of the dry season. We had a few rain drops fall in December and January, probably because of El Niño (more on him later), but other than that, nada. Large dust piles build up alongside the roads, and work crews come out and shovel them up, otherwise they create mini dust storms as you drive by. Oh, and they would be a mud hazard once the rains do come.

It is so dry that the crop stubble from the last harvest does not decompose in the fields, so the farmers take to burning it. Of course, open field fires and a dry season beget uncontrolled burns in the mountains. One just crawled up the far side (nearer to Guadalajara) of the Sierra above Ajijic and is over-topping the peak as I write.

View from the Walmart parking lot shows the spread.

Not to worry, as there is a lot of terrain between the fire and most lakeside developments. Part of the tragedy of the extreme destruction during California’s wildfires is that the cost of land has pushed development ever further into the woods and canyons (also, buyers like to be among nature). Those same places used to burn with very little consequence; now they burn homes, livelihoods, lives. Something similar happens in Florida with sinkholes. The more development spreads atop a limestone peninsula, the greater likelihood a sinkhole will swallow a home. Here we have a few villas or small developments climbing the mountainside, but most development is concentrated nearer the lake, with adequate room to make fire-breaks, if necessary. Yet development continues apace, and views from up the mountainside are spectacular, so…

Meanwhile, the temperature has climbed to the low 90’s under an intense tropical sun. The snowbirds have migrated home NOB, and many full-time residents have taken trips, as this is the ideal time to avoid the “worst” weather we have. Planning a getaway so as to return for the cooler, more lush rainy season is an art form. Some don’t realize it may be even more difficult this year, because of El Niño.

This weather pattern (officially the El Niño/Southern Oscillation or ENSO) is caused by surface water temperature changes in the Pacific Ocean, and when it (or its obverse, La Niña) happens, it results in major weather pattern changes. Climatologists confirmed El Niño for 2019, which resulted in a cooler, wetter winter here: remember those odd rainy days in December, and the run on firewood in January?

You can see that the most severe El Niño weather changes do not affect central Mexico, but we are close to the colder/wetter conditions for winter, and warmer/drier conditions for summer. Luckily, 2019’s El Niño is a mild or “weak” one, so the effects should be lessened for all. But locally we might expect a delayed or reduced rainy season.

Why are these weather patterns named El Niño and La Niña, literally the boy and the girl in Spanish? The warmer surface water temperature in the Pacific was first noticed by South American fishermen, who also noted it always began in December. While el niño means the boy, the capitalized version refers only to one specific boy, appearing also in December: the Christ Child. La Niña became the title for the opposite condition.

More than you probably wanted to know, but if it rains on your Polynesian vacation trip this summer, remember, I warned you the climate was changing!

Trips to the vet

An entry on the continuing sage of everyday life as an expat in Mexico.

Last week, as I walked our dog Tucker around the entry to our development, he stopped, as is his custom, to smell this and that, eat some grass, and do other quintessentially dog things. And then at one point, he leaned over and snarfed something. I called him over, and whatever he had, it was firmly in his snout as he desperately tried to swallow it before I could extract it. I stuck my fingers in between his jaws and pulled them apart, but my hand slipped, he bit down on my fingers (ouch!), I let go, and he swallowed it, whatever it was.

Dog poisonings are a thing here, but I wasn’t too concerned because we were inside our development property. Still, there are all kinds of things in our tropical paradise that a dog shouldn’t eat.

A day or so later, he vomited a little. Then the next day, he did it again. He stopped drinking water. On Friday he vomited one more time, and on Saturday, he refused to eat breakfast for the first time in nine years. And we were off to the vet on Saturday. The day before Easter. The week when everything in Mexico is closed for the Semana Santa holiday.

Although the vet had been closed Thursday and Friday, we were in luck: they were open Saturday until 1:00 pm. We took him in and waited about twenty minutes. They examined Tucker and took an x-ray: I am sure I got a few roentgens myself, as I helped secure him on the table. I wasn’t even aware they had started the machine as I leaned over and pinned the dog on his side in a “stretch” position. Oh, well, just radiation, right?

Sure enough, something had severely irritated his stomach and it was swollen. He was also dehydrated. They put an intravenous port in his right front paw and gave him a bag of fluid. He also got the first of three daily shots of a combination of anti-inflammatory, antibiotic, and vitamins.

The doctor told us to come back Easter morning for the second shot. We asked “aren’t you closed?” and he said “yes, but we’ll meet you here.” We arranged to meet at 8:00 am. The nurse checked the dog and said he didn’t need another bag of fluids, so she gave him a shot and we were on our way in ten minutes.

On Monday morning we returned for the final shot. They examined Tucker again and we reported he was not vomiting, he was eating and drinking normally and had recovered his energy. They removed his IV port and told us to return on Wednesday for an ultrasound just to make sure, so we made the appointment.

After the ultrasound, the vet told us Tucker’s gallbladder was still a little inflamed, and he had aspirated some vomit into his bronchial tubes. We got some meds to address both issues and agreed to a final follow up visit in a month.

So we had four vet visits (one an emergency visit on a holiday), an x-ray, an ultrasound, three shots, one bag of IV fluid, and two prescription meds: one month-long oral fluid and one ten-day set of pills. Care to guess the total cost?

Tucker, on one of his beds, with a special blanket, objecting to someone lighting fireworks

Before I reveal the damage, I must point out that while most things are much less expensive in Mexico, there are some mitigating factors. Veterinary services are not in high demand here. Many people leave dogs exposed on roofs or behind fences (alone) all the time just as noisy guards. Dogs are mostly working animals; if they don’t work, they are abandoned. We have many vets, dog parks, and shelters lakeside due to the expats’ importation of the concept of “pets.”

So I wasn’t expecting a truly, ridiculously-low price. The total was $5,700 pesos, or about $300 US dollars. I rarely left a vet’s office in the States for one routine visit for less. So a happy ending, except I doubt Tucker learned anything from all this except he likes to go for rides in the car.

Passion

As I have noted before, we have a full-scale Passion Play here in Ajijic, as in many small Mexican pueblos. There is always a Palm Sunday procession with Jesus and the disciples welcomed, then non-stop action Maundy Thursday (Last Supper, Arrest at Gethsemane) Good Friday (Trial before Pilate, Herod’s palace, Via Dolorosa, Crucifixion, and laying Jesus in the Tomb. Saturday builds up to the midnight vigil of Easter, with Jesus rising and the fiesta beginning.

Given temperatures in the 90’s and a hot tropical sun, we decided to attend parts of the play each year, and this year, we made it to the crucifixion. Actually, we planned to attend the crucifixion last year, but somehow we missed it. We arrived around 3:00 pm, the time associated with Jesus’ death and everybody was gone! Seems that the crucifixion ends at 2:15 pm in Mexico…who knew?

This year, we headed up the hill to “Golgotha” around 1:15. There was a small crowd milling under the intense sun. Sure enough, around 1:40 I could see a larger group coming up the hill.

Notice the green shirts with a rope…crowd control

The many re-enactors played their roles as the three crosses were put in place.

Roman soldiers in full uniform along with Temple guards

A narrator set the scene in both Spanish and English, then the crosses went up and the thieves, soldiers, members of the Sanhedrin, and of course Jesus did their parts.

The crowd was silent throughout. The actors, all locals, take great pride in their roles, and you can see they spend a lot of time and effort on the pageantry.

We’ve seen the arrest, the trial before Pilate, Herod’s Palace, and now the crucifixion. Maybe next year we’ll stay up late for the resurrection (and the after-party)!

…there would be no geography

The volcano called el Popo (short for Popocatépetl) is on the verge of erupting, and the government is issuing warnings to keep folks from wandering too close. No doubt it will erupt soon, a not uncommon event here in Mexico, which has about 3,000 inactive and 14 active volcanoes. (FYI, we are 654 road kilometers from el Popo.)

I especially like the camera shaking at the beginning

Whenever a natural disaster–or a tragic crime–strikes Mexico, it is completely natural for friends and family to wonder if we’re alright. Many Americans have only a cursory understanding of the size and diversity of their southern neighbor; worse still, most only have experience visiting a few, very similar tourist destinations. I was certainly in that boat before becoming an expat and living here year-round.

Since most Americans visit the tourist resorts on the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, they know Mexico to be a tropical climate with sandy beaches and warm (Carib Sea or Sea of Cortes) or cool (Pacific) water. Go a few meters inland and you hit tropical jungle or steep mountains. Which is all true. Yet Mexico is also the thirteenth largest (by size) state in the world (2,000,000 sq kms) and the eleventh by population (over 130 million). It’s the largest Spanish-speaking state in the world (gotcha! Brazil, though larger, speaks Portuguese, and Spain has only 46 million people).

Mexico has vast deserts, temperate midlands and plains (where did you think all those vegetables come from?), large canyons (Barranca del Cobre compares favorably with the Grand Canyon), major mountain ranges, high sierra, and of course those aforementioned tropical jungles and beaches. It is roughly shaped like a parallelogram that is hottest and driest in the uppermost, left-hand corner, traversing to hot and wet in the lowermost right-hand corner. Except for the Sierra Madre mountain ranges which run like a spine down the middle, accounting for micro-climates throughout the country.

Culturally, Mexico is literally a mixed bag. It is a blend of Spanish Catholic culture, indigenous ways, and a heavy dose of imported Americana. Today we tried to order papas ralladas with breakfast. Our waitress informed us they call them “papas hash browns.” Whatever. Mexico has gone through enormous changes in the past twenty-five years, much of it related to the NAFTA agreement. Like China, Mexico industrialized in a single generation. It is now the fifteenth largest state in Gross Domestic Product, ranked eleventh considering Purchasing Power Parity, and economists label it a “upper middle income” country. It was once a classic Third World nation; now it has a large manufacturing base and a middle class, alongside pre-existing elite wealth and poverty.

Many of the aspects which immediately come to mind when an American thinks of Mexican culture are in reality the cultural heritage of just one of Mexico’s thirty-two states: Jalisco. Mariachi bands: check. Tequila: check. Caballos Bailadores (dancing horses): check. Sombreros (some debate on this one). Vaqueros or cowboys (a lot of debate on this one). All claimed by Jalisco. In fact, the state government seizes on these associations with a tourist slogan that says “Jalisco ES Mexico,” literally Jalisco IS Mexico. Which is OK, since the rest of Mexico has adopted these customs, and you are not safe from a Mariachi band ANYWHERE in Mexico.

The best word to describe Mexico is diverse. The people include fair-skinned descendants of Spain and dark-skinned indigenous. Spanish is everywhere, except where one of the three hundred and sixty-four indigenous languages reign. There is no single Mexican cuisine: Oaxaca’s differs from Jalisco’s, which is different from Sonora, and none of them are Tex-Mex. The land has all the varied looks one recalls NOB, but with the addition of real tropical jungles. While it occasionally exceeds its fellow North American neighbor, it routinely rivals it in many ways. Not that one would notice that sipping margaritas on the way to the all-inclusive resort. Not that there is anything wrong with that!

Working Together

This past Monday was the official birthday (and a federal holiday) for former Presidente Benito Juárez. Much like President’s Day in the States, Mexico moves some holidays to Monday to create long weekends. We had a unique opportunity to put the free day to good use.

Of course, the colors chosen were bright orange,
bright green,
bright tourquoise!

The Rotary clubs of Lincoln and Novato, California, had a 15 person delegation visiting our Chapala Sunrise Rotary club this week. We arranged for the group to head to Ojo de Agua, the small town we have been working with the past several years. Since the men of the town had the day off, they agreed to join us fixing up the town plaza, and several of the women made a feast. The Presidente (mayor) of the municipal seat, Poncitlán, even showed up with his spouse!

My job: give a brief tour and describe our work providing water. The tank made a great stage.

The Rotary clubs provided paint, brushes, and ladders, while the townsfolk quickly dove in. We also bought terracotta tiles to repair the gazebo, installed some benches, and sent a mixed team of Rotarians and locals to take a census of the houses to identify which areas have fresh- and waste-water pipes inside their homes.

The Presidente flanked by Rotarians (and note the large, purple wall in the background)

The plaza was a pretty dull affair originally: mostly gray or dirty white walls, with some old advertisements painted on them and a gazebo with a broken down roof (see this “before” pic). The local children had a blast running wild with the brushes and left over paint: they painted themselves, individual bricks on the “town building,” and the lower reaches of several walls outside the plaza. The event was a classic case of doing good while doing well. Everybody had a great time. And we got a delicious bowl of homemade pozolé to boot!

Pozolé fresh from the stock pot (again, note the fine paint job in the background!)

Es México

Sometimes my wife and I run into a situation that can only happen in Mexico. When that happens, we simply turn to each other and repeat “¡Es México!”, and smile and continue on. Like:

The local government just passed some new traffic laws. One of them was a prohibition on reserving parking spaces. This was a common aspect of daily life in Mexico: much like folks NOB reserve a parking space when they shoveled the snow out of it, people here put traffic cones, or buckets, or folding chairs to reserve a space. No more: the law states the traffic police may remove the offending object wherever they find it. They could fine the responsible party, but no one would ever be stupid enough to label their objects.

There are good reasons to reserve a space in Mexico: for handicapped residents, for business’s loading/unloading, or just for access to a garage on a narrow street! But this requires an application, and a fee, and some curb work. Easier to place a bucket. But now you could lose your bucket, and no one wants to lose a bucket. One simply can’t go through the administrative hassle, and there is no guarantee of success, so what’s an innovative Mexican to do?

Dirt. Piles of it.

Where did I put my dirt?
How would you EVER get into that garage?

Works especially well if you just don’t want ANYBODY parking there. It’s anonymous. It’s not easy for the police to remove. And if they take it, well, you can just get more. ¡Es México!

Some economists estimate 25% of the Mexican gross domestic product is in the informal sector, meaning small businesses without licenses that do not collect the VAT (i.e., they are off the government’s books). These things pop-up everywhere, and offer convenience. If you have ever driven across the US-Mexico border, you have no doubt been approached by people selling trinkets, newspapers, CDs/DVDs, food, drinks, car washes, vacation rentals, insurance, anything! Some of this is pirated junk, but much is legitimate, if not legal, merchandise. Mexicans learn to spot the good and bad tiendas and readily shop at the former.

Need some fresh fruit?
Or floaties?
or a smoothie?

Shops appear in regular spots roadside, and often disappear each night. Some are only there on weekends. Some last for years, or until they grow too profitable and someone steps in to take a cut or ask for their paperwork. I saw a New York Times piece on the phenomenon of pop-up stores in the States…Mexico has always done this. “¡Es México!”

One final example is: the “viene-viene.” These are waiters who double as human advertisements for their establishments. There’s a restaurant row just down the road: it includes a series of all-you-can-eat seafood places alongside the lake. Some have a theme-park quality to them; most have bands on weekends, and are especially favored by tapatíos who want to get away from the city with the family for the weekend. But which to choose? Every place has several employees out front waving flags, rags, and menus, whistling and gesturing wildly at the cars as they slow to cross the inevitable topés. They seem intimidating at first, but are harmless, if a little aggressive. When you enter or leave the restaurant, they will halt all traffic and assist you on your way. Once you become accustomed to them, a simple smile and a wave as you pass is all that is required. After all “¡Es México!”